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H Quotes

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All H Quotes

“He looked at me intently before speaking. “Why do you do that?” I frowned at him. “Do what?” “Push everyone away.” Danny told me simply. I was a little stunned and when I didn’t say anything, Danny continued on. “Darcie, what are you so afraid of? Why do you shut people out?” He looked at me searchingly. “Because it’s easier that way!” I yelled at him suddenly and he looked taken aback. I took a deep breath to calm down and added, “And I don’t like feeling vulnerable.” Danny stared at me. “Being vulnerable is nothing to be ashamed of Darcie …it’s what makes us human.” I shook my head furiously. “No! Being vulnerable makes you weak – just like every other emotion … if you allow yourself to care, you only end up getting hurt.” Danny threw me a consoling look. “But there’s nothing wrong with caring –” “No!” I interrupted angrily. “I don’t want to care! You only end up getting hurt … and it hurts so bad that you can’t breathe. I don’t want to feel like that. I don’t want to feel at all! It’s just easier to shut everyone out … if you don’t care about them – you won’t get hurt!”

“He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.”

“He looked at me, that first day, like he had just found something he’d lost a thousand years ago.”

“He looked at my lips. I suddenly found myself wanting to lick his. 'Yes,' he replied, his eyes going molten. My breath caught in my throat as he reached out and brushed a strand of hair where it had flown across my cheek. 'I believe we do have unfinished business.' 'Good.' I gulped, suddenly one big mass of tingling body parts that wanted an immediate introduction to all of his body parts. I tried to slam down a mental barrier between his mind and mine, but it did no good. The cheerleaders in my groin were setting up fundraising car washes to finance a field trip to his groin.”

“He looked at the houses he had been passing these weeks and though he had never studied them carefully they had become familiar through the process of seeing them so often, and he was now impressed with the change in their appearance as he looked at them through the gray of the air and whiteness of the snow, each house, shrub, tree, bush and mailbox trimmed with snow and blending into the air as if they were just a picture projected upon the still, pearly grayness, just an impression created by the silent snow, a picture on the edge and verge of disappearing and leaving only the air and snow through which he now lightly walked. It did not seem possible, but the air was even softer and quieter. He continued walking alongside his prints feeling he could walk forever, that as long as the silent snow continued falling he could continue walking, and as he did he would leave behind all worries and cares, all horrors of the past and future. There would be nothing to bother him or torture his mind and fill his body with tremors of fear, the dark night of the soul over. There would only be himself and the soft, silent snow; and each flake, in its own life, its own separate and distinct entity, would bring with it its own joy, and he would easily partake of that joy as he continued walking, the gentle, silent snow falling ever so quietly, ever so joyously ... yes, and ever so love-ing-ly ... loveing-ly....”

“He looked at the little maiden, and she looked at him; and he felt that he was melting away, but he still managed to keep himself erect, shouldering his gun bravely. A door was suddenly opened, the draught caught the little dancer and she fluttered like a sylph, straight into the fire, to the soldier, blazed up and was gone! By this time the soldier was reduced to a mere lump, and when the maid took away the ashes next morning she found him, in the shape of a small tin heart. All that was left of the dancer was her spangle, and that was burnt as black as a coal.”

“He looked at the pain and he set himself apart from it. He saw it, examined it, identified it, corralled it. He isolated it. He challenged it. You against me? Dream on, pal. He built borders for it. Then walls. He built walls and forced the pain behind them and then he moved the walls inward, compressing the pain, crushing it, boxing it in, limiting it, beating it.”

“He looked at the tree that was such a good home. Its smooth, spacious branches of silvery tan that stretched wide and far-reaching in knotted, twisted curves and delicate bunches of spreading leaves. How important this had become to him. Here, sitting not too high and not too low, he had seen the world in absolute clarity for the first time, the days emerging as if purified from nights of a clean and brilliant blackness. The sunlight coming in through the leaves at daybreak, shifting and flickering, breathing its fire-breath upon the bark, falling now and then upon Sampath, whom it treated as if he were not the solid being that he was, scattering him like water … He felt weightless here, rocked by this lambent light, lapped by the swell of flower and grass, of leaves as rich as fruit, being warmed to their different scents. All about him the hills rose darkly up into a sky that stretched like a sea, white-stippled and warm, to the very rim of his eye. How strangely it made him feel, Sampath thought, how strangely he thought of beauty. He was greedy for it, insatiably greedy. He could watch it constantly and never could he do it justice …”

“He looked at these prayer candles quite indifferently, and feeling an impulse to shape his lips into an ‘O’ and release some air, Andrei blew the entire table out. Once he’d finished, large clouds of slow smoke spiraled into the dark air, for a moment appearing like fossils, and then rose into oblivion. But oblivion was not beautiful. It met him with dread. Andrei could hear the whispers of desperate folks who lighted their single candle to pray for relief. He heard screams for help, answers begged for, and pleas for private miracles. He’d slaughtered every single prayer. “Where do their lights all go—now that I’ve done that?” asked the panicked boy.”

“He looked back at Eve, holding out his hand. "Come on, then." She looked between him and his hand, pressing her lips together, but not moving. He frowned. "Eve." She inhaled and took his hand, awkwardly inching toward him without a sound. "Brave lass," Asa purred. He caught her other hand, ignoring her flinch, and pulled her into his arms. What a small thing she was! She might be tall, but Eve's body was as light as a bird's. He could feel the delicate bones of her shoulder, the slender span of her waist, and he thanked God that she'd not been crushed by the planks falling on her.”

“He looked back at her, and when she saw the look on his face, she saw his eyes at Renwick’s, when he had watched the Portal that separated him from his home shatter into a thousand irretrievable pieces. He held her gaze for a split second, then looked away from her, the muscles in his throat working.”

“He looked deep into my eyes and then continued, “I’m sorry this is happening to you, but it’s never going to change until you decide that you’re done with this life. As long as you think these things are the ultimate pleasure that life has to offer, you will keep seeking them. As long as you keep seeking them, you’ll feel divided inside; you will also keep breaking the law. I know these consequences suck, but as long as you keep breaking the law, you’ll keep bringing them on yourself. It won’t ever stop until you decide to change. God helped me change my life, maybe He’ll help you too.”