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All A Quotes

“Alex thrust her hand and half her arm into the labyrinth of light. Her stare blanked, and in the halo of the matrix her eyes and glyphs blazed so radiantly she looked as if she were being consumed by a primordial fire. “She just stuck her hand into Machim Command’s central server matrix!” Caleb smiled, watching on in blatant awe. “She does that.”

“Alex took a silent step closer to the kitchen door and watched unseen as willow spooned instant coffee into a pair of mugs.With another yawn, she scraped her hair off her face and stretched. She looked so entirely human, so drowsy and sleep-rumpled.For a moment, Alex just gazed at her, taking in her long tumble of hair, her wide green eyes and pixieish chin. Fleetingly, he imagined her eyes meeting his, wondering what she'd look like if she smiled”

“Alex touches her arm. "You look nice." "Nice?" she repeats. "Try harder, Alex." He flushes adorably. "Really nice," he says. "Next time, try this," Harry says. He reaches for my hand. "Franny, I didn't know what beauty was until I saw you walking toward us a minute ago. "I like this better," I say, pulling away. "At least he sounded like he meant it." "I meant it," Harry says, almost irritably.”

“Alex was a historian by education, a translator of centuries-old scripts by training, and a savant when it came to inane trivia, which she tended to offer up without encouragement and much to the annoyance of everyone around her. Three months ago, Bran, LT, Mason, and the other three guys from their SEAL Team - now the owners of the Deep Six Salvage Company - had hired her to translate the historical documents housed in the Spanish Archives that pertained to the hurricane of 1624. They'd hoped she could give them a leg up on their hunt for the Santa Cristina.”

“Alex was enlivened by his father's love and felt energized. He knew he would return home; he had felt his strength return a soon as he put on his ring. It was this strength, he thought, that coursed throughout his body that travelled down his spine and then caused his leg muscles to spasm and convulse. The ring imparted more than love, either his father’s, mother's or unknown to him Kera's love. The ring with all its radioactivity could have powered a small city for almost 28 years and now that energy coursed through Alex and his alien physiology. The energy for a city had outlets, junctures and relays along with other electronic devices to distribute that energy and regulate it. Alex's body was new to the experience of this type of phenomenon and it distributed poorly. When his legs convulsed and shook and his spine became alight as fire running down an oil spill, Alex screamed in a ghastly howl that could be heard outside the tomb, as if some rambling soul or spirit had just arisen for vengeance upon those that placed him in the grave.”

“Alex was scared beyond belief how did this guy know about his home planet or that he absorbed gamma radiation to remain healthy and get his abilities? Alex was tired of talking and he was now getting angry, this guy would not like him angry. The rage still came, and Alex's eyes began to glow. He could no longer hear Tasha in his head at that instance, and he just wanted this noob to go away. He raised his right hand and pointed his ring at the older man in front of him and that was when he heard the old man mutter something. Alex could not believe what he was hearing. “To Alexander, my son, you are our brightest star. Always remember the only future you are ever guaranteed is the one you make for yourself. Willpower, Wisdom and intelligence are the keys—Love Dad” These words echoed in his mind and these words were only known to him, Tasha, Wanda and his father even by Tasha's recollections. Alex's eyes turned back to the blue green beauties that Patrick and Jessica Wayne loved so well. They also welled up with tears. Tasha had lied to him.”

“Alex! Your dress!” Landis called after her. “Come down and we’ll find you something else to wear!” Alexis shook her head and laughed. “I told the captain I would need a pair of trousers and he refused me! If the sight of my legs is so distasteful, then don’t look!” Landis joined the laughter of the others in response to her suggestion. There was certainly nothing wrong with her legs. They all tilted their heads back as they watched her climb higher.”

“Alexa's face whitens. The coil of hair loosens itself from her finger. "You did it for me. You never fought back. Because you thought you were keeping me safe." I pull up my gaze to meet hers. "Yeah." "I--" It's a strangled, high-pitched sound, laced with shock and grief. Then she bites her lips shut. Her chin trembles, just once, before she turns away.”

“Alexander: “First we will send the frontovik into the streets with guns. When they are dead, we will send me, with a tank, like the one you’ve been making me. When I’m dead, all the barricades down, all the weapons and tanks gone, they will send you with a rock.” Tania: “And when I’m dead?” Alexander: “You’re the last line of defense. When you’re dead, Hitler will march through Leningrad the way he marched through Paris. Do you remember that?” Tania: “That’s not fair the French didn’t fight” Alexander: “The didn’t fight Tania, but you will fight. For every street and for every building. And when you lose —”

“Alexander Kilgour, in true Scottish style, was educated for the Church. At thirty-five he filled a Chair of Divinity. Two members of his Presbytery, before his appointment, were overheard to say, 'We don't want Kilgour of Inverald - he has far too acute a mind for a Professor.' And indeed Alexander, in a short while, had a wasps' bike about his ears. 'As bad as Smith o' Aiberdeen,' cried the critics. Alexander Kilgour, however, had not only the advantage of teaching ten years later than Robertson Smith, he had also the Kilgour habit of success in all he put his hand to. He retained his Chair, silenced the mutterers by tact and suavity, and gave width of outlook to a succession of young Scottish divines. His urbane persuasiveness of manner, however, covered a true prophetic zeal. He was passionate for enlightenment, drunk on the word: though in this matter too the pre-war whiskies were the best. The ageing man would sit with brooding brows over the later distilations.”

“Alexander may or may not have peeked out of the kitchen office to make sure Eden actually ate the rest of her Asian fusion abomination. Her delicious Asian fusion abomination. As much as it bothers him to admit, Alexander has never tasted anything so amazing before. The sauce was tangy, notes of lime coming to the forefront without being overpowering. The mini pita shells she'd used had been warmed on the skillet, offering a lovely crunchy texture to offset the softness of the Pad Thai.”

“Alexander McQueen was one of the greatest fashion designers of his generation. His genius, sometimes provocative, admired and saluted by all, constantly opened new perspectives. Visionary and avant-garde, his creations took their inspiration from both tradition and timeless hyper-modernity.”

“Alexander moved her off him, laid her down, was over her, was pressed into her, crushing her. Anthony was right there, he didn't care, he was trying to inhale her, trying to absorb her into himself. "All this time you were stepping out in front of me, Tatiana," he said. "Now I finally understand. You hid me on Bethel Island for eight months. For two years you hid me and deceived me - to save me. I am such an idiot," he whispered. "Wretch or not, ravaged or not, in a carapace or not, there you still were, stepping out for me, showing the mute mangled stranger your brave and indifferent face." Her eyes closed, her arms tightened around his neck. "That stranger is my life," she whispered. They crawled away from Anthony, from their only bed, onto a blanket on the floor, barricading themselves behind the table and chairs. "You left our boy to go find me, and this is what you found..." Alexander whispered, on top of her, pushing inside her, searching for peace. Crying out underneath him, Tatiana clutched his shoulders. "This is what you brought back from Sachsenhausen." his movement was tense, deep, needful. Oh God. Now there was comfort. "You thought you were bringing back him, but Tania, you brought back me." "Shura...you'll have to do..." Her fingers were clamped into his scars. "In you," said Alexander, lowering his lips to her parted mouth and cleaving their flesh, "are the answers to all things." All the rivers flowed into the sea and still the sea was not full.”

“Alexander's selected the best potatoes they have in storage, a medium-sized white onion, a hearty block of Reblochon-style cheese, a slab of fatty bacon, and has even retrieved a dry white wine from the downstairs pantry. Eden's mind races. The ingredients are simple, but there are hundreds of different possible outcomes. She can't even begin to fathom what Alexander has in store for her. He handles his knives beautifully. His grip is strong, but just light enough to offer the most flexibility. It isn't very long before he slices up generous bits of bacon and has it sizzling in a hot pan, fat melting away and frying all around the meat to leave it nice and crisp. In goes finely minced onion, and then a good cup or so of white wine to deglaze the bottom of the pan. Then it's the potatoes, which he's skinned and sliced with mind-bending accuracy. Alexander pops everything into an oven-proof dish before covering the top with a hefty layer of cheese. He places it in the oven, but doesn't bother setting a timer. He's a skilled enough chef to know when it's done. "Are you going to tell me what this mystery dish is?" Eden asks. Alexander smiles. "It's a tartiflette," he explains. "My father used to make it all the time. Comfort food, for when I wasn't feeling well.”