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H Quotes

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

All H Quotes

“He quirked a brow. “What the hell are you playing at, anyway?” She lifted her chin. “Camouflage.” “Deus, woman.” His gaze raked down her body. They were in a bar full of shifters one inch away from a full-out brawl, but damn if that hot, dark look didn’t send a thrill shooting straight to her womb. “If that’s camouflage, then I’m king of the faeries.”

“He raised an eyebrow at me. 'You plan to use that?' 'Why does everyone think I'm going to stab them when I pick up anything that's not blunt?' 'Well,' Kieran replied blandly, 'you do have a habit of doing exactly that.' I started to argue but quickly realised that, unfortunately, he had a point. 'Only when it's deserved.' I placed the dagger on the small wooden table. 'And it's not my fault that some of you deserve to be stabbed. Repeatedly.”

“He raised an eyebrow. "You claim not to know me? Of course I'm Thoth. Also called Djehuti. Also called--" I [Sadie] stifled a laugh. "Ja-hooty?" Thoth looked offended. "In Ancient Egyptian, it's a perfectly fine name. The Greeks called me Thoth. Then later they confused me with their god Hermes. Even had the nerve to rename my sacred city Hermopolis, though we're nothing alike. Believe me, if you've ever met Hermes--”

“He raised himself onto his elbow, his temple cradled in his hand. “I won’t bite. Well, unless you want me to.” Butterflies thrashed against my insides at the thought of his lips on my body. I suddenly burst into laughter. “Remember what happened the last time you tried to bite me? I accidentally jumped and backhanded you.” That had been an erotic rendezvous, until he nipped my hip. He dropped his face into the pillow and groaned. “Mood killer.” “Heh.” I wiggled deeper into the covers, grinning.”

“He raised his brows as his gaze travelled the length of my bare leg. 'Scandalous,' he murmured. A growl of annoyance burst from me. He laughed. 'And such dainty little slippers. Satin and silk? They're as finely tailored as your leg. The kind of slipper no guard of the Rise would wear. How astute of him. 'Unless they are being outfitted differently than I am,' ...”

“He raised his eyes and glanced at her faintly, with a calm voice: “Whether he deserves to die or not, it is still better for him to die at this moment. If he can live as an excellent king, it would be worthwhile; If he can live as Princess Zhu Yan’s beloved husband, it would be considered valuable. But now he is nothing; he can neither be the King of Huotu, nor your husband. Why should I waste my energy? Why should I bother to save him? If he survives, he would live a miserable life full of troubles.”

“He raised his eyes to look at her and she was suddenly and strangely reminded of being four years old at the beach, crying when the wind came up and blew away the castle she had made. Her mother had told her she could make another one if she liked, but it hadn’t stopped her crying because what she had thought was permanent was not permanent after all, but only made out of sand that vanished at the touch of wind or water.”

“He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm - like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.”

“He raises his hand to my face again and I allow the touch. His fingers slide along my jawline and the warmth of his caresses radiates past my skin and into my bloodstream. Pleasing goose bumps rise on my neck. “Do you think you’ll come back sometime?” he asks. “And let me help you with your car?” My ears ring with the staccato thrum, thrum, thrum of my heart. Holy crap, I can’t believe this is happening to me. “I’ll make it work. I swear.” The words tumble out of my mouth without thought. That’s not true. Actually, they tumble out with a lot of thought of how my parents won’t approve, of how my brothers will kill Isaiah, then possibly kill me. But in this moment, I don’t care what any of them think.”

“He ran a finger over her bicep, and she was about to ask what he was doing when her arm went numb. "Ohhhh, you are going to get the best head of your life for that," she said, her whole body dizzy with relief. Taranis swallowed back a laugh. "You're so delightfully ridiculous, Quinn Fairbrook." "It's part of my appeal. That and my epic tits," she replied, placing her arm under the running tap. Taranis's eyes dropped to her bloody tank top. "They are rather epic." "Thanks. I made them myself.”

“He ran as he'd never run before, with neither hope nor despair. He ran because the world was divided into opposites and his side had already been chosen for him, his only choice being whether or not to play his part with heart and courage. He ran because fate had placed him in a position of responsibility and he had accepted the burden. He ran because his self-respect required it. He ran because he loved his friends and this was the only thing he could do to end the madness that was killing and maiming them.”

“He ran away a lot after that, still trying to find something exciting to make life less dull. His parents always said he was never satisfied, and would never be satisfied even if he found what he was looking for. Duncan hoped that wasn't true, but he wasn't sure. Taylor walked alongside Duncan, stepping on all of the fallen autumn leaves, and Duncan was sure it was a new song creating itself. That's how Taylor was. He heard music in the wind and in the crunch of leaves and new songs were growing out of his ears and Duncan was lost. That was it, he realized. Lost.”

“He ran from her suddenly, swift and quiet like a mountain cat among the high peeks of Eld mountain. She watched him dive in among the trees, and the autumn winds shoke suddenly at his heels. She sad down on a fallen trunk and dropped her head among the knees. A great soft warmth shiled her from the wind, and she looked up and saw into Gules Lyons quiet, golden eyes. What is it, white one? She knelt suddenly and flung his arms around the great mane, and burried her face against him. I wish that I had wings and could fly and fly and never come back. What has troubled you, Orams powerful child? What can trouble you? What can such a small one as Coren of Sirle say to touch you? For a long moment she did not answer. And then she said, her fingers tight around the gold tangeled fur. He has taken my heart and offered it back to me. And I thought he was harmless.”

“He ran his eyes carefully over her face. ‘Do you trust me, love?’ Well, that was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. He had saved her life, yes, but something about him warned her to stay on her guard. After considering the situation, she shook her head. ‘I’m grateful you saved me and everything, but no, sorry, I don’t trust you.’ Griffin’s eyes flashed, the corner of his mouth turning up with amusement. ‘Smart girl.’ And then all Sachi could feel was cold, icy fire as Griffin’s sword tore through her chest, burying itself in her heart.”

“He ran his fingers over the moist ends of her hair and across her face. Her eyes were wet. Jesus Christ. How many nights had he heard Lily crying. As some parents sleep through fire, thunderstorms, and voices at the back door only to wake at a child’s whisper, so Everett heard Lily crying at night. Her muffled sobs seemed to have broken his dreams for years. He had heard her even at Fort Lewis, even in Georgia, finally at Bliss. That was Lily crying in the wings whenever the priest came to tear up his mother’s grave. Lily cried in the twilight field where he picked wild poppies with Martha; Lily’s was the cry he heard those nights the kiln burned, the levee broke, the ranch went to nothing.”

“He ran his hand from my wrist up to the crook of my elbow and then to my shoulder. “When I was a little kid, my dad would come to my room at night to say a prayer with me. He used to say, ‘Lord, We know there’s a little girl out there who’s meant for Henry. Please protect her and raise her up right.’” His voice changed to something slower and more country when he mimicked his dad. He smiled at the memory, and then he put his mouth near my ear and whispered. “You were that little girl.”

“He ran his hand up her calf, over her knee, and up the sensitive slope of her thigh, until he cupped her mound in his palm. She gasped at the shock of pleasure. His fingers caressed her gently, stroking up and down the seam of her sex, teasing her with light passes until she was breathless. She reached between their bodies, feeling for his trouser buttons and tugging at them with eager, inexpert fingers. At last, his placket fell open, and his erection sprang into her hand. Hot, hard, and heavy. She explored him the same way he touched her- skating her fingertips up and down his length, marveling at the silky softness of his skin and tracing the intriguing, yet entirely unfamiliar contours. "Let me see you," she whispered. He rose up on his knees, and his male organ jutted toward her. The dark hair on his chest arrowed straight toward it, like a signpost indicating a point of natural interest:THIS WAY TO THE MANHOOD. As if it could be missed. Rude, large, framed by dark hair, and impressively male. No surprises, really. It simply looked like a part of him. An intimidatingly large part of him, considering what was about to occur and where she hoped he could put it. But it wasn't foreign or frightening. As was the case with all the other parts of his body, she found it bold, strong, unabashed in its nature, and arousing in the extreme.”

“He ran his hands down my hair. He put his head on top of mine and said, “Someday, I think you would have looked back at this very moment and realized how strong you truly were. I think you would have realized how capable you were of getting past this. It may have not been soon, Brantley Thornton, but I promise you, I promise you, it would have been one day. This is just a chapter of your life, Brantley. Not your entire story. But you have to get through this part to be able to see the rest.” I grabbed his hands and I traced my thumb over the places where ridges and bumps and calluses should have been and then I drew his hands to my chest, to feel my then beating heart. Tears dripped and poured down my face and I didn’t dare to wipe them. And I told him, “I do not have one day.”

“He ran his knuckles over her cheek as their gazes met and held. So much. He had been given so much. The sound of their daughters’ high-pitched laughter drew their gazes away from each other nd toward their children. The girls came running toward them, breathless and excited. Their hair was messed in tousled disarray, their gowns were smeared with dirt, their skin was flushed and rosy. They leaped onto the blanket, tumbling over each other like exuberant puppies as they wrapped their chubby arms about his neck. “Papa, Papa, we want a new game!” Morgan thought for a moment, overcome with a profound sense of gratitude. Of all he had been given, perhaps the most significant gift was a deep reverence for life, with all its pain and all its glory. Every loss had meaning. And every day was a new reason for celebration.”

“He ran the back of his fingers along her cheek. “Being with you this weekend made me realize how much I actually missed you. And not just sexually. I miss your smile. Your laugh. Your presence. Our late night conversations while we lie in bed and I hold you. The way you raise your right eyebrow when you think I’m being an idiot. The way you know exactly what I’m thinking or what I need without me having to even say it. It just hit me hard that I truly miss you.”

“He ranted at me while I put out the next course: a dish of boiled pigeons enveloped in a blancmange, the best I had ever made, with pulverized chicken, rose water, almonds, sugar, capon broth, ginger, verjuice and cinnamon. I had them placed in a deep dish, poured on the blancmange and scattered the snow-white surface with a thick covering of poppy seeds until the silver dish seemed to hold nothing but tiny black grains. Over this I arranged stars cut out of fine silver foil. There was a breast of veal, stuffed with cheese, eggs, saffron, herbs and raisins, upon which I scattered the darkest rose petals I could find at the flower market. There was a soup of black cabbage; boiled calves' feet with a sauce of figs and black pepper; and boiled ducks with more sliced black truffle.”