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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

“Her father had taught her about hands. About a dog's paws. Whenever her father was alone with a dog in a house he would lean over and smell the skin at the base of its paw. This, he would say, as if coming away from a brandy snifter, is the greatest smell in the world! A bouquet! Great rumours of travel! She would pretend disgust, but the dog's paw was a wonder: the smell of it never suggested dirt. It's a cathedral! her father had said, so-and-so's garden, that field of grasses, a walk through cyclamen--a concentration of hints of all the paths the animal had taken during the day.”

“Her father had told her repeatedly that fear was the one force that drove all darkness in the world. Love, on the other hand, was the greatest source of power. Love strengthened the weakest, gave them a ferocity that fear never offered. Mothers defended their children. Partners, friends, good people stared down evil, becoming something to be feared. Because of love. Yet love wasn't the path Camilla had chosen. She'd succumbed to that same moral trap. Change was terrifying. The unknown always was. It was the very essence of its being unknown that made it so. The familiar was comforting even when it wasn't necessarily good.”

“Her father must have sifted through hundreds of marriage résumés to narrow the field down to these ten names. Ten men he thought would make her happy and treat her with kindness and respect, unlike Jonas and all the men she'd dated before him. Layla had always considered herself a modern desi woman. She was as comfortable in a sari as she was in jeans and enjoyed hamburgers and potato chips as much as dal and curry. Her life revolved around Western friends and a large and extended family of immigrants from Northern India and Pakistan who had brought their culture and beliefs with them- one of which was the benefit of arranged marriage over the Western concept of love. Despite Dev's wonderful relationship with Rhea and the success of her parents' union, Layla had never been interested in having an arranged marriage. Even after a string of failed relationships and heartbreak, she had always believed in true love. Her soul mate was out there waiting for her. All she had to do was open her eyes.”

“Her father, though proud she was “joining up with the good guys,” was aghast that she was doing it in North Carolina. “They all chew tobacco and eat grits and call every woman darlin’. How’s a nice Italian girl like you going to fit down there?” Only she had fit in, oddly enough. It was much better than she’d expected so far, especially the people, who—get this—were so friendly that they waved to strangers while driving.”

“Her favorite stepping-aside technique was to lay out a dizzying mountain of complex steps and then pronounce the conclusion self-evident. Excuse me? Things that are self-evident don't need you or the presentation anyway. Relying only on logic, on what can be factually established, may inform or intimidate, but it will rarely stir anyone into action or change.”

“Her feet touched upon ground, and a cloud of silvery dust blossomed up to her waist. Her clothes shimmered, and the checkered cotton dress she was wearing became an elegant white gown with a silver cord around the waist. "Your apprentice gown," explained Agata. She gestured ahead. "Welcome to the Wishing Star." Before her was a village not unlike Pariva, only every cottage was a different color: rose, violet, mahogany, marigold. Burgundy, magenta, and pearl. Even the flowers in the gardens matched the colors of the houses, and trees made of gold and copper and silver lined the shimmering streets. In the center was a house made of crystal, its windows stained with hearts of every color in the town. As soon as her gaze fell upon the house, its door opened, and over a dozen fairies filed outside, each wearing a warm smile.”

“Her fierce and angry soul hides amongst the beauty of her light. She's deadly and contagious as she blazes from person to person burning all that she touches. She roams without a shadow and she doesn't want to be seen. She lives in the form on humanity and it's hard to tell. It's hard to tell who is infected with her evil and who is not. Fire, it's a dangerous thing.”

“Her fine high forehead sloped gently up to where her hair, bordering it like an armorial shield, burst into lovelocks and waves and curlicues of ash blonde and gold. Her eyes were bright, big, clear, wet and shining, the colour of her cheeks was real, breaking close to the surface from the strong young pump of her heart. Her body hovered delicately on the last edge of childhood -- she was almost eighteen, nearly complete, but the dew was still on her.”

“Her fingers curled into a fist and she shouldered the door open. Its rusted hinges objected, creaking, and a dusty, half-rotten scent swarmed her nose. Her cheeks heated. For Cassian to be here, to see this- 'Just a brute, remember,' he stepped to her side. 'I've lived in far worse. At least you had walls and a roof.' Nesta hadn't realised how much she needed to hear those words, and her shoulders loosened as she stepped into the cottage proper. In the chill dimness, broken only by rays of sunlight, she frowned at the ceiling. 'This house used to have a roof.”

“Her fingers curled into a fist and she shouldered the door open. Its rusted hinges objected, creaking, and a dusty, half-rotten scent swarmed her nose. Her cheeks heated. For Cassin to be here, to see this- 'Just a brute, remember,' he stepped to her side. 'I've lived in far worse. At least you had walls and a roof.' Nesta hadn't realised how much she needed to hear those words, and her shoulders loosened as she stepped into the cottage proper. In the chill dimness, broken only by rays of sunlight, she frowned at the ceiling. 'This house used to have a roof.”

“Her fingers slid into his thick hair, exploring his scalp. The scar was a long one. The blow that had caused it must have nearly split his skull open. As she touched his head, she heard his breath catch. "Does it hurt?" she asked, instantly removing her hand. He shook his head with a short laugh. "I'm afraid you're causing me another kind of pain." Perplexed, Lara stared into his eyes, and her gaze dropped to his lap. To her mortification, she saw that her innocent touch had aroused him, causing a heavy, unmistakable ridge to strain against his trousers. Lara flushed and jumped back from him. The remnants of his grin lingered. "Pardon, sweet. A year of celibacy has erased whatever self-control I may have once possessed.”