H Quotes
Browse famous quotes beginning with H. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.
“He only shot one person," Nick remarked. "But the night is young." . . . Forgive him, he has no manners." I get by on good looks," Nick said.”
“He only who gave life has a power over it.”
Source: A collection of the moral and instructive sentiments, maxims, cautions, and reflexions, contained in the histories of Pamela, Clarissa, and Sir Charles Grandison: Digested under proper heads, with references to the volume, ...
“He only wished that it wasn't winter. He wanted to turn his face to the sun and feel it warm him. The cold frightened him now. It felt like death, like the long silence of not being, without sense of time or place, only the understanding that he must hold on, that someday, there would be an end to the terrible stillness. He'd been a long time in the dark.”
Source: The Language of Thorns: Midnight Tales and Dangerous Magic
“He only wished to fight and cultivate an anger toward me, thus alleviating his guilt, but I would not abet him in this.”
Source: The Sisters Brothers
“He only wishes there were something that would heal the scars in his mind, which he can still feel. He sees his mind now as an archipelago of islands that he labors to build bridges between - and while he's had great success engineering the most spectacular of bridges, he suspects there are some islands that he'll never reach.”
Source: Unwind Unboxed: Unwind; Unstrung: an Unwind Story; Unwholly
“He open his mouth and gasps into the bag, and the vomiting goes on endlessly. It will not stop, and he keeps bringing up liquid, long after his stomach should have been empty. The airsickness bag fills up to the brim with a substance known as the vomito negro, or the black vomit. The black vomit is not really black; it is a speckled liquid of two colors, black and red, a stew of tarry granules mixed with fresh red arterial blood. It is hemorrhage, and it smells like a slaughterhouse. The black vomit is loaded with virus.”
Source: The Hot Zone: the Terrifying True Story of the Origins of the Ebola Virus
“He opened a window in my heart, and the light of the world shined in.”
“He opened an eye and smiled lazily at me. 'That willow's singing always puts me to sleep.'
'The what of what?' I said, propping myself on my elbows to stare at the tree above us.'
Tamlin pointed toward the willow. The branches sighed as they moved in the breeze. 'It sings.'
'I suppose it sings war-camp limericks, too?'
He smiled and half sat up, twisting to look at me. 'You're human,' he said and I rolled my eyes. 'Your senses are still sealed off from everything.'
I made a face. 'Just another of my many shortcomings.' But the word- shortcomings- had somehow stopped finding its mark.
He plucked a strand of grass from my hair. Heat radiated from my face as his fingers grazed my cheek. 'I could make you able to see it,' he said. His fingers lingered at the end of my braid, twirling the curl of hair around. 'See my world- hear it, smell it.' My breathing became shallow as he sat up. 'Taste it.' His eyes flicked to the fading bruise on my neck.
'How?' I asked, heat blooming as he crouched before me.
'Every gift comes with a price.' I frowned, and he grinned. 'A kiss.'
'Absolutely not!' But my blood raced, and I had to clench my hands in the grass to keep from touching him. 'Don't you think it puts me at a disadvantage to not be able to see all this?'
'I'm one of the High Fae- we don't give anything without gaining something from it.'
To my own surprise, I said, 'Fine.'
He blinked, probably expecting me to have fought a little harder. I hid my smile and sat up so that I faced him, our knees touching as we knelt in the grass. I licked my lips, my heart fluttering so quickly it felt as if I had a hummingbird inside my chest.
'Close your eyes,' he said, and I obeyed, my fingers grappling onto the grass. The birds chattered, and the willow branches sighed. The grass crunched as Tamlin rose up on his knees. I braced myself at the brush of his mouth on one of my eyelids, then on the other. He pulled away, and I was left breathless, the kisses still lingering on my skin.”
Source: A Court of Thorns and Roses
“He opened his eyes again and stared into her soul. "Then I'll tell you the truth."
"Which is?" Her hand was shaking.
"I did it because I want you.”
Source: The Untamed Earl
“He opened his eyes again, raking his gaze up and down my body before coming to rest on my crotch. "Quite simply," he said, "I'd like to lick your cunt. I'd like to hear you scream my name."
The world seemed to sway. "Don't... don't you have groupies for that sort of thing?" I asked breathlessly.
"I'd rather have you."
I swallowed. "I don't know what to say."
"You can start by saying yes, please, Kent. Eat my pussy."
My skin tingled with his words. I wondered why he wasn't the one singing, front and center. That voice could carry me away, anywhere he wanted me to go...
Oh, this was a problem. This was a huge problem, and I wasn't about to make it any better. My mouth was dry, but the words came out clear enough:
“Yes, please, Kent. Eat my pussy.”
“I thought you'd never ask,” he said.”
Source: Hard Rock Arrangement
“He opened his eyes and focused on her with difficulty. “If I need divine grace,” he whispered, “I’m in trouble…unless we can find some corrupt angel to bribe.”
A startled laugh escaped her. “Don’t be blasphemous.”
Source: Devil in Winter
“He opened his eyes to half-cast. With a low rumble he lifted her onto his hips. "Take me to heaven, lassie. For no one but ye can cool the fire thrumming in my blood.”
Source: Rise of a Legend
“He opened his eyes to reveal the storm within him.
“My every instinct is telling me to have my way with you.”
He was dead serious and my cheeks heated. Fire shone in his eyes and I broke eye contact, burying my face into his cotton-covered chest.
“But not nearly as difficult as going all this time without you,” he said.”
Source: Sweet Peril
“He opened his hand, and inside was a tiny lavender-colored flower with a small stem.
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Mr. Exley left us a present. Cichorium intybus. Chicory. The plant of freedom and one of the nine plants. He used it to get out of the basement, and then he left us a cutting as a courtesy. Your Mr. Exley has a good sense of humor."
"He's not my Mr. Exley."
"Unimportant. This little petal tells us how he got out of here."
"He broke a deadbolt with a flower petal?"
"In a sense, yes. Cichorium intybus is a perennial related to the dandelion. It's cultivated in England and Ireland and from Nova Scotia to Florida and west to the plains. It is not cultivated here, in South America. He brought it with him!"
"For what?"
"For its magical properties. The plant has a long, thick taproot filled with a bitter milky-white juice. The ancient Egyptians believed that if the juice is rubbed on the body it promotes invisibility, and removal of obstacles. The Mayans called it the plant of freedom, for the same reason.”
Source: Hothouse Flower and the Nine Plants of Desire
“He opened his laptop and showed me a picture of a “cozy” Greenwich Village apartment he’d found online. My dad, a born New Yorker, had told me stories of the Village, a lively network of cobblestone streets and jazz dives, coffee houses and folk clubs with no cover fee—and I felt a surge of light-headed ambition. “Though it’s kind of strange,” Justin continued, “there is no bathroom inside. Our toilet would be down a public hallway.”
Source: Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir
“He opened his mouth and closed it again. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but Alistair knew that he couldn’t. He could remember her. He could remember this: the two of them standing side by side. Only it wasn’t this moment, but another, centuries before. Two sides of the same coin. It made him want to shout in excitement; it made him want to hide in shame. She doesn’t remember.”
Source: The Dark Divide
“He opened his mouth, but stopped as he beheld her smile. Though she had no regrets about her choice, she felt something strangely like disappointment when he said, "As you wish.”
Source: Throne of Glass
“He opened his mouth. The words were there. He was about to say them when a jolt of terror went through him, the terror of someone who, wandering in a mist, pauses only to realise that they have stopped inches from the edge of a gaping abyss. The way she was looking at him - she could read what was in his eyes, he realised. It must have been written plainly there, like words on the page of a book. There had been no time, no chance, to hide it.
“Will,” she whispered. “Say something, Will.”
But there was nothing to say. There was only emptiness, as there had been before her. As there would always be.
'I have lost everything', Will thought. 'Everything.”
“He opened his mouth to order her to drop the MP5 she had aimed at him, but nothing would come out. It was like she'd robbed him of the ability to speak. Shooting her wasn't an option, though. And the idea of arresting her didn't make him feel any better.”
Source: In the Company of Wolves
“He opened his mouth to say that she looked extremely beautiful and deserved armfuls of roses, but the words were lost in committee somewhere, shuffled aside by the parts of his head that worked full-time at avoiding ridicule.”
Source: Major Pettigrew's Last Stand
“He opened his shirt and lowered his trousers.
'Bring the light over!' he ordered.
I held the lamp close to the thin, tanned body. What with deep scars, bullet and sword marks, his body was like a collander.
'Now look at the other side!'
He turned round and showed me his back.
'Not a scratch on the back, you see. Do you understand? Now take the lamp back.”
Source: Zorba the Greek
“He opened the box and saw a tiny cake shaped like a bird's nest in three small round layers of tender, browned-butter vanilla cake with an apricot filling. A "nest" border of piped rum and mocha buttercream enclosed a clutch of pale blue marzipan eggs and a sugar-paste feather. The complicated yin and yang of rum and mocha, the "everybody loves" vanilla, Mr. Social white chocolate, tart and witty apricot, and artistic marzipan- all said "Gavin" to me.”
Source: The Cake Therapist
“He opened the car door. She followed him and started to climb into the car but stopped. She saw her image in the car window. A goddess. Her breath caught, heartbeat quickened. She couldn't pull away from her reflection. It was as if the warrior goddess had emerged, and she looked less human, more dangerously beautiful. Stanton seemed to know what had stopped her.
"That's how I've always seen you," he said. "Since the first night."
Her head jerked around and she caught something in his eyes before they turned hard again. It wasn't her imagination this time. She definitely saw something gentle and caring.”
Source: Goddess of the Night
“He opened the coffin next to his, just to reassure that it had been a nightmare, gasping.”
Source: Blood Pudding & Other Horrific Delicacies
“He opened the door for me with an impassive expression. Oh, but he couldn’t fool me. I knew very well that he gloated inside. He had the right to. I’d be gloating aloud if I were him. I slid into the plush black leather seat and ran my hands over every surface I could touch after buckling my seatbelt. Awe, like a slow burning fuse, spread all over my body. My fingertips sizzled. It was one thing to hear Gramps talk and completely another to actually sit inside the fantasy.
“Should I give you two some time alone?”
“What?”
His smile gave me unexpected quivers.
“Stop molesting my car.”
Source: Til Death
“He opened the door to the freezer and picked up the ice-cube tray that Louise had used to make the bloodsicles so many years ago, now melted red and watery. He held up the bloody washcloth that she had saved and put next to the ice tray when I was ten years old and I immediately touched the scar on my forehead where I had cut it open sleepwalking.
"When we left for New Orleans they turned off the electricity in the house. The ice cubes thawed out in the freezer and that's what I smelled when I came into the house. I knew the truth about you then. The truth was in your plasma and your cells, your escinophils, neutrophils, and platelets. It was in your blood. Louise didn't make the scent, she only collected it and then gave it back to you inside the ruby vial."
"She took it from me when I was just a little girl," I said. "A healer on the bayou told me, in her own way.”
Source: Scent of Darkness
“He opened the door wearing an oversized wife-beater and dirty trunks to match. Funny, but he recognized me withouta struggle. Immediately, I assumed he was sober, which was a good thing. Yet, seeing me wasn’t expected or desired. For sure, I was the last person on his list of surprises. Jerry adjusted his head and sharpened his bloodshot eyes. It wasthen his booze-bated breath greeted me well before he did. Ok, he was in a stupor or maybe on the rebound. Next, soiled diapers stole the little oxygen I had left—and I was still OUTDOORS.
Yet somehow, I mustered enough wind to greet my brother. I tried to beat him to the punch and said, “What’s up bruh?” What happened next stomped my soul me for years to come! He never bothered to truly acknowledge me. Yet, heresponded without hesitation, “You know I can’t have
any company!” Then he violently slammed the door shut! Jerry was gone! I couldn’t differentiate
from being stupid or dumbstruck. I just stood silent on his porch all alone for about five minutes. I’d dealt with Jerry’s nastiness many times before. But he would initially warm up before dropping his hammer. Without a doubt, l was lost, confused, and bewildered like a teen-age boy losing a prom date. Foolishly, I used logic to dissect my embarrassment.
First, the guy scolded me as if I should’ve known better! To be fair, Jerry was the breadwinner. His wife left him years ago. That part I understood. Only a fool would have hung around his crazy ass. It was amazing they got together, let alone stayed that way long enough to create those children. Yet, all his kids were pushing the ages of twenty andabove. What the hell did he mean, “I can’t receive any company!” Of course, I heard those crying babies which madehim a granddaddy. That was strangely obvious to his existence. Yes, the cycle continues!
Second, I really didn’t care to go inside. I didn’t want to be in his business. I just wanted his input on Aunt Kathy’s memorial.”
Source: My Bully, My Aunt, & Her Final Gift
“He opened the jar of pickles when no one else could. He was the only one in the house who wasn't afraid to go into the basement by himself. He cut himself shaving, but no one kissed it or got excited about it. It was understood when it rained, he got the car and brought it around to the door. When anyone was sick, he went out to get the prescription filled. He took lots of pictures... but he was never in them.”
“He opened the letter and read its contents. A stiffness grew in his loins as her sexual fantasies were laid bare, written out before him.”
Source: A Decade of Desire: Erotic Memoirs from The Office Diaries
“He opened the little box, popped the chocolate into his mouth, and made a face. "Oh! That's bitter. Must be extra-extra-dark. But there's a very sweet center that tastes of almonds and honey, and..." He smacked his lips. "Something floral."
I was glad I hadn't eaten it myself. I hated bitter chocolate except as a garnish.”
Source: Midsummer's Mayhem
“He opened the side pocket of his bag and took out a photograph , stared it for long. It had been so many years, but he knew this was the right time to come back on her life and execute his plan.”
Source: The Unending Maze: Because Finding Your Way Out Has Never Been More Difficult
“He opened the small brown bag and held it toward her, and she could smell the butter. Notably, though, there was no grease soaking the bottom of the bag, like when Mom brought home donuts. She peered in.
"I think it's a croissant. And a chocolate croissant. And some kind of roll. And some other thing I didn't know what it was."
"Chausson aux pommes," Rosie said, pulling it from the bag. She was pretty sure anyway- it had the distinctive half-moon shape, and the slashes on top let her see a peek of what looked like apple filling.
"What's that?"
Rosie stilled as Henry shifted closer to her. He was just looking at the pastry, and she knew that, but still. He was close, and he smelled warm, and sleepy. And male.
"It's kind of like an apple croissant," she said, ignoring the rapid rise of her heartbeat. "Or an apple strudel. An apple turnover, I guess."
"Try it."
"You should have the first bite. You got it."
"I insist," Henry said, and he wouldn't take it from her. So she bit in, and the pastry flaked instantly, then yielded into sweet, soft cinnamon apples. It was so good that she had to imagine this would be the best thing she'd try today. But then Henry was grinning, chocolate smeared on his face, and he passed her the pain au chocolat, and she thought that had to be the best thing. But then the classic croissant was so perfect, each layer of lamination distinct, and then the brioche was dangerously rich, yet so light at the same time, and the éclair's filling was perfectly smooth, and the baguette made Rosie rethink what, exactly, the stuff she'd been eating for the last sixteen years was, because it couldn't possibly be bread, not like this...”
Source: Love à la Mode
“He opens a lower cabinet to reveal that it is a mini fridge, and brings over two plates that each have a slice of what looks like flan, dark at the top from being baked with caramel.
He hands me a plate and fork, and pours me a glass of wine.
I take a bite. And my eyes snap open.
"Gateau de semoule?" I say in disbelief.
"Mais oui, mademoiselle, bien sur." He smiles. "I thought you might like it."
"I adore it. And I haven't had it in years." The very French dessert is essentially baked creme caramel-type custard, thickened with semolina for an amazing texture and added nuttiness. There are juicy golden raisins, which I believe he has soaked in rum, and the caramel you make for the bottom of the baking dish turns itself into a light sauce when you unmold it. It is the kind of dessert that any French maman would make on a weeknight for dessert. Unfunny, unfussy, and completely comforting and delicious.”
Source: Out to Lunch
“He opens his window and motions for me to open mine. When I do, he tries to say something. His voice barely carries through the sound of the rain coming down hard between us.
I lean out the car window. "What?"
He leans out his window, meeting me halfway. We're both wet and soaked, but neither of us seems to care. "Don't run away from me when I need to tell you somethin' important."
"What?" I say, hoping he doesn't notice the tears running down my face, and praying they're getting mixed up with the rain.
"Tonight was . . . well, it was perfect for me, too. You've turned my world upside down. I've fallen in love with you, chica, and it scares the fuckin' shit outta me. I've been shakin' all night, because I knew it. I've tried to deny it, to make you think I wanted you as a fake girlfriend, but that was a lie."
"I love you, Kiara," he says before his lips move forward and meet mine.”
Source: Rules of Attraction
“He operated in a puerile, slimy world full of sly hints, insinuations.”
Source: Red Sparrow
“He opposed the capitalist imperial order, but he remained at heart a traditionalist, imbued with the patriotic values of his childhood and implacably wedded to a patriarchal view of society.”
Source: Orwell's Ghosts: Wisdom and Warnings for the Twenty-first Century, Library Edition
“He or she must be successful in economic terms, but always within an ethical framework. Whether his or her constituency is a corporation and its shareholders or the customers in a small and privately held business, his or her first responsibility is to serve that constituency.”
“He or she was only an illusion, a mask the psychopath created in order to mirror and manipulate you. As crushingly hard as it is and as much as it hurts, the only way to find freedom is to stop believing in that illusion.”
Source: Psychopath Free: Recovering from Emotionally Abusive Relationships With Narcissists, Sociopaths, and Other Toxic People
“He ordenado una biblioteca a lo largo de mi vida y los libros han desordenado mi vida.”
Source: Conferencia sobre la lluvia
“He ordered food with a childlike glee and watched me eat, tasting it as I did. In private he'd roll on his back like a cat, hands pressed to his mouth as if trying to drain every taste. It was the only thing he did that was cute. He was gorgeous, sensual, but rarely cute. - Anita Blake about Jean-Claude”
Source: Burnt Offerings: An Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Novel
“He ordered oxtail soup and enjoyed it heartily. Then he glanced at the menu for the fish, ordered a haddock and, seized with a sudden pang of hunger at the sight of so many people relishing their food, he ate some roast beef and drank two pints of ale, stimulated by the flavor of a cow-shed which this fine, pale beer exhaled.
His hunger persisted. He lingered over a piece of blue Stilton cheese, made quick work of a rhubarb tart, and to vary his drinking, quenched his thirst with porter, that dark beer which smells of Spanish licorice but which does not have its sugary taste.
He breathed deeply. Not for years had he eaten and drunk so much. This change of habit, this choice of unexpected and solid food had awakened his stomach from its long sleep. He leaned back in his chair, lit a cigarette and prepared to sip his coffee into which gin had been poured.”
Source: A rebours: Édition enrichie. Exploration de l'esthétisme et de la marginalité dans la France décadente du XIXe siècle
“He ordered Ronan to put on some terrible music--Ronan was always too happy to oblige in this department--and then he abused the Camaro at every stoplight on the way out of town. "Put your back into it!" Gansey shouted breathlessly. He was talking to himself, of course, or to the gearbox. "Don't let it smell fear on you!" Blue wailed each time the engine revved up, but not unhappily. Noah played the drums on the back of Ronan's headrest. Adam, for his part, was not wild, but he did his best not to appear unwild, so as not to ruin it for the others.”
Source: The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle, Book 2)
“he ordering of cultural customs, forms of governance and economic institutions as being better or worse does not fit into the modern ethos of equality. We- rightly- want equal opportunities and rights. A positive vision of the colonial past apparently doesn’t fit into that. I mean, my whole university is busy decolonizing! That is the train I slammed into.”
“He orders an expensive bottle of Rioja and we begin our tapas extravaganza with plates of dates wrapped in bacon, langoustines in garlic and butter, chorizo in a tomatoey sauce, and a miniature Spanish tortilla (potato, egg, and onion). Our medium-rare steaks are set before us along with a basket of thinly sliced, golden crisped fries. I'm happy to see that Frank enjoys food- with no mention of any weird hang-ups or allergies.
"I was hoping they'd have sweetbreads on the menu," Frank says.
"You like sweetbreads?" I ask, my heart expanding at the mention of calf thymus.
"I'm an organ man," Frank says, taking a sip of wine.
"I know a place where they make great sautéed sweetbreads," I say.
"You?" he asks, a look of pleased astonishment spreading across his face.
"Love 'em," I say. This mutual infatuation with organs bodes well.
Cutting into the steaks with sharp knives, we put morsels in our mouths, close our eyes as if we've died and gone to heaven, chew, and groan, the salty, bloody juices trickling down the backs of our throats.”
Source: Girl Cook: A Novel
“He ought to be ashamed of his boldness, but he could not find it in himself to be. He needed her. He wanted her. He had to touch her. Now.”
Source: Kiss Me, My Duke
“He ought to be more clever in his murder attempt. Done properly, he could make a wealthy widow of you, and then you'd both have your happy ending.”
Source: Tempt Me at Twilight
“He ought to buy her a new dress. She would never accept it, of course, but maybe if her current garments were accidentally burned... ...But how could he manage to burn her dress? She'd have to not be wearing it, and that posed a certain challenge in and of itself.”
“He ought to have been taught better than to let his emotions show on his face. Instead, he assumed that others would care about his feelings, so he didn't bother to hide them.”
Source: The Stolen Heir
“He ovat suloisia kuin hahtuvat, ohuita ja keveitä kuin sellainen ensi nuoruus, jota kukaan ei ole koskaan elänyt.”
“He overcomes a stout enemy who overcomes his own anger.”