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C Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with C. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All C Quotes

“Christopher, family for me was never blood. It was always the family I chose. But it turns out it’s nice to have someone I’m related to in this world. Someone I can tell boring family stories to. Do you know about Will Herondale? Or James Herondale?” “I don’t think so,” said Kit. “Excellent. Hours of your time will be ruined,” said Jace.”

“Christopher felt a smile -his first genuine smile in a long time- pulling at his lips. "Does Miss Hathaway have many suitors?" "Oh, yes. But none of them want to marry her." "Why is that, do you imagine?" "They don't want to get shot," the child said, shrugging. "Pardon?" Christopher's brows lifted. "Before you marry, you have to get shot by an arrow and fall in love," the boy explained.”

“Christopher felt as if he were being followed. He actually glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see death or the devil. It was the kind of morbid thought that had plagued him so mercilessly after the war. But far less often lately. All because of Beatrix. He felt a sudden pull in his chest, a yearning to go wherever she was, find her and draw her tightly against him. Last night it had seemed impossible to talk to her. Today he thought it might be easier. He would do anything to try and be the husband she needed. It would not be done in one fell swoop. But she was patient, and forgiving, and Dear Lord, he loved her for it.”

“Christopher. It seemed the entire world stopped. Beatrix tried to compare the man standing before her with the cavalier rake he had once been. But it seemed impossible that he could be the same person. No longer a god descending from Olympus... now a warrior hardened by bitter experience. His complexion was a deep mixture of gold and copper, as if he had been slowly steeped in sun. The dark wheaten locks of his hair had been cut in efficiently short layers. His face was impassive, but something volatile was contained in the stillness. How bleak he looked. How alone. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to touch him. The effort of standing motionless caused her muscles to tremble in protest. She heard herself speak in a voice that wasn't quite steady. "Welcome home, Captain Phelan." He was silent, staring at her without apparent recognition. Dear Lord, those eyes... frost and fire, his gaze burning through her awareness. "I'm Beatrix Hathaway," she managed to say. "My family-" "I remember you." The rough velvet of his voice was a pleasure-stroke against her ears. Fascinated, bewildered, Beatrix stared at his guarded face. To Christopher Phelan, she was a stranger. But the memories of his letters were between them, even if he wasn't aware of it.”

“Christopher stood facing Beatrix, trying not to gape. And failing utterly. She might as well have been standing there in her undergarments. In fact, that would have been preferable, because at least it wouldn't have seemed so singularly erotic. He could see the feminine outline of her hips and thighs clad in the masculine garments. And she didn't seem at all self-conscious. Confound her, what kind of woman was she? He struggled with his reaction to her, a mixture of annoyance, fascination, and arousal. With her hair threatening to tumble from its pins, and her cheeks flushed from exertion, she was the epitome of glowing female health.”

“Christopher Westcott slowly drank his pint of ale at the Bird and Baby, as locals liked to call the Eagle and Child, and basked in the familiar smells- old wood bathed in lemon oil, braised beef, stale beer that spackled the bar. The pub was a popular mecca for those who admired J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and their entire literary giants they called Inklings. Christopher wasn't even close to being a literary giant nor was he a tourist, but he enjoyed writing and liked to feign himself one of the professors who might have basked in the lively readings and debates of the Inklings instead of just the aromas of this pub. Personally, he admired the writings of George MacDonald, the man C.S. Lewis considered his mentor. MacDonald was a writer and professor. And he was a frequently unemployed Scottish minister due to his views on God's love and grace. The man could speak the language of theologians at the same time he wrote books for children and readers of all ages whom he described as "child-like, whether they be of five, or fifty, or seventy-five." MacDonald was a man of integrity who believed that God did not punish His children except to amend and heal them. A man who believed God's love and grace was available to all people- a direct affront to the Calvinists in his era.”

“Christstollen. I can shake away thoughts of favorite gifts and trips to Oma's house and building snowmen with Santa hats every Christmas Eve, as long as enough snow covered the ground. But my mother's stollen won't fall off as easily. She made it for my father; he ate the first piece with cream cheese at breakfast while I had bacon and chocolate chip pancakes and my mother drank her special amaretto tea. The recipe is there, tucked in her recipe box, the index card translucent in places from butter stains. I hold it in my hand, considering, reading the ingredients and pawing through the cupboards and pantry. We have raisins and a bag of dried cranberries from last year's Christmas baking. There's a wrinkled orange in the fruit bin, a couple plastic packets of lemon juice that came with one of my father's fish and chips take-out orders. No marzipan, almonds, candied fruit, or mace. I'll be up all night. It's too much effort. But the card won't seem to leave my hand. So I start, soaking the fruit and preparing the sponge.”

“Christus den store og rette Lære-Mester blev af GUD skikked ned paa Jorden, for at drive paa de store Naturens Bud, som vare satte til Side, og haver viset, at ved det Ord Næste ikke maa forstaaes en Medborger alleene, men et hvert Menneske. GUD give, at vi Christne havde efterlevet vor Lære-Mesters og Apostlernes Lærdom herudi!”

“Christus is het logische en misschien wel onvermijdelijke gevolg van het feit dat God elk idee over vernietiging van de eigenzinnige schepping heeft opgegeven: na alles wat er in het Oude Testament tussen God en Israel is gebeurd, staat er eindelijk iemand op die volkomen Israel en volkomen God is, die in zijn eigen persoon de vernietiging ervaart waarvan God had beloofd dat Hij die op aarde nooit meer zou aanrichten en die in zijn lichaam het nieuwe verbond aanbiedt dat God met de mensheid sluit. Christus is de boog in de wolken, het gevolg van het feit dat God oorlogswapens afzweert: net als we bij het zien van de regenboog aan Gods belofte denken, zo zien we in het kruis de vervulling, kosteloos voor ons en met de hoogste prijs voor God.”