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H Quotes

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All H Quotes

“He took her by the shoulders and pulled her closer to him, his fingers knotting in the fabric of her dress. Even more than in the attic, she felt caught in the eddy of a powerful wave that threatened to pull her over and under, to crush and break her, to wear her down to softness as the sea might wear down a piece of glass.”

“He took her hand and they started walking toward the baggage claim. They didn't say anything to each other. They swung their held hands like little kids, like they believed anything could happen, like they might take off soaring into the air. All the things you wanted to happen could happen. Why not?”

“He took her hand out of gentlemanly habit, and they walked out of her driveway and started their stroll in a row of garlic, the pungent scent filling the air. Grape vines contrasted with nascent strawberry plants, which would probably be ready to harvest this spring. This farm was massive. Normally, Enrique loved staring out at the ocean from his home in La Jolla, but the view of all these plants as far as his eyes could see almost seemed better. The round artichoke globes reminded him of the undulating waves in the ocean. Wind blew the leaves of the garlic plants, which varied in size. And all this magnificent greenery fed people throughout California.”

“He took her in his arms right away. "I'm so sorry," he murmured in her ear. He rocked her, saying it over and over. But no matter how many times he said it, no matter how much she knew he meant it, the words stirred around in her ear but didn't get into her brain. Sometimes he could comfort her. Sometimes he said what she needed, but today he couldn't reach her. Nothing could.”

“He took himself off to bed. He wasn’t going to sit there and wait for an answer like he had sent e-mail to God. God didn’t exist, but he prayed regardless that all this would be gone in the morning. This had to be a glitch in the computer or in his mind. Maybe he had experienced a small stroke. Or maybe he was drunk, on a single glass. He had made a mistake with the drink—with it in his blood, he couldn’t take the Prozac. That could be the best explanation…some cross between whiskey and yesterday’s Prozac. He lay in the dark, up in the rafters of the sky, waiting for sleep. Somewhere around four, he dropped off and dreamt of panicked birds flying up out of trees.”

“He took his hand and something sparked in the handshake. It coursed up his arm and fluttered in his chest. He gritted his teeth as he tried to keep his face smooth, pleasant, while lightning struck his heart. Reiner looked straight into his eyes, and when Thierry returned his intense gaze, he was bewildered as to where and when he was. The breath he didn’t need to take caught in his dry throat. The lights around him seemed to dim, leaving only the two of them illuminated. His muddled mind tried to understand what was happening, but as he groped for answers he found nothing to hold. Like trying to catch water.”

“He took hold of my hand, his voice husky.  ‘You have been the most irritating intrusion into my life.  And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  You’ve forced me to stop feeling sorry for myself.  You’ve forced me to see things from other people’s point of view.  You’ve forced me to overlook the fact that you say criminy more than any person ever should.  Basically, you’ve forced me to be a less grumpy version of myself.”

“He took it off, and she could see his hair was damp with sweat, as was his shirt on closer inspection. He mustn’t have bothered showering after his training session. Juliet’s belly tightened. There was just something about a sweaty man that had always done it for her. Good sweaty. Not the festering-for-hours-never-worn-deodorant kind. The healthy kind worked up through hard physical labour. The primal survival kind that attracted a woman to the type of man who could keep her in mammoth stew and furs. It clearly didn’t matter how sophisticated humans thought they were or how far they’d come. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution and it still got down to how a man smelled. Mother Nature was one crazy bitch.”

“He took me between his knees and shuffled some photographs before my eyes with his dextorous hands, showing me images of naked women and boys in strange positions. I leant against him and peered at those delicate human bodies with distant, unseeing eyes, as the fluid of a vague agitation that had suddenely clouded the air reached me, running through me in a shiver of anxiety, a wave of sudden understanding. In the meantime, the haze of a smile that had appeared under his soft, beautiful moustache, the germ of desire that had stretched across his temple in a pulsing vein, the tension holding his features together for a momenr, fell back into nothingness, and his face departed into absence, forgot itself, and disintegrated.”

“He took my hand in his. I gasped when our skin touched and looked into his eyes in a kind of shocked wonder, my eyes wide. His hand was smooth and warm, a few degrees warmer than it should be, and that heat sank into me, but it was not his heat that made me gasp. It felt like a storm resided within his skin and the moment our hands met, the storm and heat went raging through my veins, leaving my skin tingling and my heart fluttering while also making my blush deeper. It was like heat lightning, flashes of brilliance without sound that told of an impending storm. It awakened something within me, something I did not know existed, and took my breath away. I had never felt anything like it before.”

“He took out a carrot and thee onion half. I'm not sure I'd ever seen anyone use half an onion. Or rather, I'd never seen anyone save half an onion he hadn't used. The real secret ingredient, however, was the package of lardons fumés- plump little Legos of pork- deep pink and marbled with fat. He dumped them into a pan with the chopped vegetables (he may have washed the pan from the charlotte), and the mixture began sizzling away. A box of tagliatelle, the pasta spooled like birds' nests, completed the meal.”

“He took something out of his jacket and handed it to her. It was a long thin dagger in a leather sheath. The hilt of the dagger was set with a single red stone carved in the shape of a rose. She shook her head. "I wouldn't even know how to use that--" He pressed it into her hand, curling her fingers around it. "You'd learn." He dropped his voice. "It's in your blood." She drew her hand back slowly. "All right." "I could give you a thigh sheath to put that in," Isabelle offered. "I've got tons." "CERTAINLY NOT," said Simon.”

“He took the hand that wasn’t holding the bou­quet of wildflowers and stared at it, holding it so tightly that she thought he might crack her bones. Then his hold gentled. He slipped a gold ring onto her finger and lifted his gaze to hers. “I’m not a brave man; I’ll never be a hero, but I love you more than life itself, and I will until the day I die. With you by my side, I’m a better man than I’ve ever been alone. I’m scared to death that I’ll let you down, but I won’t run this time. I’ll stand firm and face the challenge and work hard to see that you never have any regrets. You told me once that you wanted to share a corner of my dream. Without you, Amelia, I have no dream. With you, I have everything I could ever dream of wanting.” Tears burned her eyes as he glanced back at the preacher. “I’m done.” -Houston to Amelia as his wedding vow.”