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Quote by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

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El laberinto de los espíritus

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Carlos Ruiz Zafón

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“La mayoría de los mortales nunca llegamos a conocer nuestro verdadero destino; simplemente somos atropellados por él. Para cuando levantamos la cabeza y lo vamos alejarse por la carretera ya es tarde, y el resto del camino lo tenemos que hacer por la cuneta de aquello que los soñadores llaman madurez. La esperanza no es más que la fe de que ese momento no haya llegado todavía, de que acertemos ver nuestro verdadero destino cuando se acerque y podamos saltar a bordo antes de que la oportunidad de ser nosotros mismos se desvanezca para siempre y nos condene a vivir de vacío, añorando lo que debió ser y nunca fue.”

BarcelonaZafon
Book:El laberinto de los espíritus
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“Aster had come to trust the diviner implicitly. The lessons had burned such an indelible mark in her memory that she could recount, with the utmost ease, all twenty-three creatures that had fallen from the grace of God, and the nine ethnic groups that the Almighty had meant to be slaves. She accepted that one shall not kill one's neighbor, unless it is to encourage others to do the same; one shall not steal, unless one can prove oneself lord-designate; and one shall show deference to an elder, unless it is decidedly evident that the elder is from one of the nine fallen ethnic groups.”

WarEthicsSlaveryEthnicityMoral Instruction
Book:The God Who Begat a Jackal: A Novel
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“I glance over to see a strangely familiar figure standing nearby, nodding toward me in the dim light of the evening. They appear to be a giant blue bird with a massive red circle around them, along with a diagonal line slashed across the middle. "Do I know you?" I question as the strange manifestation steps forward. Suddenly, I snap my fingers with recognition. "You're Tromp's Twitter ban!" I blurt. "That's where I've seen you before!" The giant bird shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. This time around I'm your Twitter ban.”

Social MediaTwitterShenanigansChuck Tingle
Book:Not Pounded By The Handsome Physical Manifestation Of My Twitter Suspension Because It Was Reversed
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“She wraps her legs around my waist, and I walk us slowly down the hall. "Mmm, wait," she whines against my mouth. "I haven't showered. I'm so gross, and I don't..." She trails off as I turn into my bathroom, then set her down. She shuffles her bare feet against the gray stone tile, an inquisitive look on her face as she looks around the narrow space bathed in neutral hues. I push open the glass door and turn on the shower. Water cascades from the waterfall showered. "Oh," she says as she grins and bites her bottom lip. By the time we've helped each other out of our clothes, the water's warm. I help her in first, then step in. And then, under the hot stream of water, we resume our dirty kissing and grabbing. "Wait, wait." She presses a hand against my chest, then reaches for the shampoo bottle on the ledge. "I do need to get clean first." I laugh and follow her lead by shampooing my own hair and doing a quick rinse with body wash. She holds her hand out for the loofah, but I shake my head. "Let me?" A devilish smirk tugs at her perfect mouth. When she nods and licks her lips, I have to take a second. God, this woman. The way she's sweet and filthy all at once is enough to make me lose it right here. But I refuse. Not before she gets what I'm dying to give her. I work up a lather and run the loofah all over her body. I take my time, paying attention to every part of her. These beautifully curved hips, the fullness of her thighs, the gentle curve of her waist, her arms, her hands, the swell of her boobs. And then I lather up my hands and slowly work between her legs. She clutches both hands around my biceps, and her toes curl against the earthen-hued river rock that lines the shower floor. Her eyes go wide and pleading as she looks up at me. I lean down to kiss her. "Tell me what you want." "You. Just you. Please." With her breathy request, I'm ready to burst. Not yet, though. She reaches down to palm me, but I gently push her hand away. I want this to be one hundred percent about her. When she presses her mouth against my shoulder and her sounds go louder and more frantic, I work my hand faster. She's panting, pleading, shouting. When I feel the sting of her teeth against my skin, I grin. Fuck yeah, my girl is rough when she loses it and I love it. I love her. She explodes against my palm, the weight of her body shuddering against me. I've got her, though. I've always, always got you. When she starts to ease back down, she lets out a breathy laugh. "Oh my god." I nod down at her, which only makes her laugh harder. Then she glances down at what I'm sporting between my legs and flashes a naughty smirk. "Let's do something about that." Soon it's me at the mercy of her hands. My head spins at the pleasure she delivers so confidently, like she knows every single one of my buttons to push. When I lose it, I'm shuddering and grunting. For a few seconds, my vision's blurry. She's that incredible.”

WashingHeavy PettingShower Sex
Book:The Boy With the Bookstore
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