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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“I’ve got to go, Esmie. But remind me to tell you when I get back. The story will curl your hair.” Esmeralda gave him a pout, both at his teasing about her hair and because he was going to leave without telling her. “You are not a nice guy, Ian.” “Ah, so you’ve uncovered my secret.” He kissed her cheek in parting. “I have never been a nice guy, Esmeralda.” Intensity burned in his winter blue eyes as he added, “And I have never been tame.” —Ian ben Kole and Esmeralda ben Claude”

“I’ve Got to Trust You to Like You People want to do business with people whom they like and trust. If anything in a business presentation raises concerns or doubt about your trustworthiness, everything shuts down. And then there's little hope of moving forward in a positive way—you’re done.”

“I've got you, Agnes," Taylor said, not fazed in the slightest. "You had me, Taylor," Agnes said. "Now you've got Brenda, you poor, doomed sap. And Joey 'The Gent' and Shane after your ass. You better go now. Your flunky is out in his van, and his feet are turning to ice while you wait. At any minute now, he's going to tear up that report and go somewhere far away until the wedding is over." "Nah, he-" "And Shane's coming home any minute." Taylor looked over his shoulder.”

“I’ve gotten it wrong," he said. He always tried to grasp life by zooming out. That was his generation. They were fast with science and believed in the cosmos, and conceptualized reality in academic comfort which made them superior to it. They argued life had no meaning and said things like, “We’re just smart animals on an uncaring rock.” But at some point, a person trying to organize their life with reason would be stuck in infinity. There was nothing to reason with. And so they had to return— return to the monotony that meant something a second time. “My mom,” he dreamed, “once cried to me when she saw a bird chirping on her fence... real, bucket tears. She used to tell me her dreams which always meant something... A grown woman who used to pick up sticks she found pretty and keep them in her bag...She was always sweating...” There was a dumbness to her he could never understand. Andrei’s mother, so pathetically an earthling, lived in touch with humanity, and was involved in it so deeply that no intelligent, zoomed- out mind could ever comprehend. “I don’t want concepts. There is nowhere else to go in life except toward each other.”

“I’ve gotten really good at reading Kara’s face over the years. and I know what that expression means. It’s disappointment. Here she is trying to find me a perfect boyfriend, yet I can’t keep my neuroses in check long enough to keep them from running away. I can’t bring myself to care. If a guy runs from something as small as this, they are in no way, shape, or form able to handle me anyway.”

“I’ve grown quite weary of the spunky heroines, brave rape victims, soul-searching fashionistas that stock so many books. I particularly mourn the lack of female villains — good, potent female villains. Not ill-tempered women who scheme about landing good men and better shoes (as if we had nothing more interesting to war over), not chilly WASP mothers (emotionally distant isn’t necessarily evil), not soapy vixens (merely bitchy doesn’t qualify either). I’m talking violent, wicked women. Scary women. Don’t tell me you don’t know some. The point is, women have spent so many years girl-powering ourselves — to the point of almost parodic encouragement — we’ve left no room to acknowledge our dark side. Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.”

“I've grown sick of the upstairs parlor." The parlor he'd arranged for her. "I'm bored there." Vane glanced at her as he juggled her to open the door. "Bored?" Patience looked into his eyes and wished she'd used some other word. Bored was, apparently, a red rag to a rake. "It's not long to dinner, perhaps you should just take me to my room." The door swung wide. Vane stepped through, then kicked it shut behind them. And smiled. "There's more than an hour before you need to change. I'll carry you to your room- later." His eyes had narrowed, silvery with intent. His voice had changed to his dangerous purr. Patience wondered if any of the other three would have the courage to follow- she couldn't believe they would. Ever since Vane had so coldly annihilated their senseless accusations of Gerrard, both Edmond and Henry treated him with respect- the sort of respect accorded dangerous carnivores. And Penwick knew Vane disliked him- intensely. Vane advanced on the daybed. Patience eyed it with increasing misgiving. "What do you think you're doing?" "Tying you to the daybed." She tried to humph, tried to ignore the premonition tickling her spine. "Don't be silly- you just said that as a threat." Would it be wise to wind her arms about his neck? He reached the back of the bed, and stopped. "I never issue threats." His words floated down to her as she stared at the cushions. "Only warnings." With that, he swung her over the wrought-iron back and set her down with her spine against it. Patience immediately squirmed, trying to twist around. One large palm, splayed across her midriff, kept her firmly in place. "And then," Vane continued, in the same, dangerous tone, "we'll have to see what we can do to... distract you." "Distract me?" Patience stopped her futile wriggling. "Hmm." His words feathered her ear. "To alleviate your boredom.”

“I’ve grown up defined by this desperate, undeniable, ‘can’t breathe’ kind of space inside of myself and I’m afraid that the diagnosis is fatal.”

“I've grown up with an ethic, call it a part, that insists I hide my pain at all costs. As I talk, I feel this pain leaking out—not just the core symptom of BPD, but all the years of being blamed or ignored for my condition, and all the years I've blamed others for how I am. It's the pain of being told I was too needy even as could never get the help I needed.”

“I've had a heap o' comfort all my life makin' quilts, and now in my old age I wouldn't take a fortune for 'em. Set down here, child, where you can see out o' the winder and smell the lilacs, and we'll look at 'em all. You see, some folks has albums to put folks' pic tures in to remember :em by, and some folks has a book and writes down the things that happen every day so they won't forgit 'em; but, honey, these quilts is my albums and my di'ries, and whenever the weather's bad and I can't git out to see folks, I jest spread out my quilts and look at 'em and study over 'em, and it's jest like goin' back fifty or sixty years and livin' my life over agin. "There ain't nothin' like a piece o' caliker for bringin' back old times, child, unless it's a flower or a bunch o'thyme or a piece o' pennyroy'l — anything that smells sweet. Why, I can go out yonder in the yard and gether a bunch o' that purple lilac and jest shut my eyes and see faces I ain't seen for fifty years, and somethin' goes through me like a flash o' lightnin', and it seems like I'm young agin jest for that minute.”

“I’ve had a long life. You haven’t. You love your family. Go to another world. Find a…a husband—” He broke off and that rattle began deep in his chest. His next words came out thickly, around fangs. “Have children. Rebuild the human race. Live all those dreams you used to have.” “Used to,” I agreed, nipping his full lower lip. “Don’t anymore. Can’t even conceive of them. You’re my dream.”

“I've had a weird couple of weeks, you know?" "I completely know". "But I- I mean, I'm not totally happy, but there's no way I'd go back to my old obvious self! I like it here. I like all the... confusion and heartbreak". "It wasn't that bad... was it?" "Scott... yes, it was. But I feel like I've learned some stuff along the way. I know things now".”

“I’ve had enough of this.’ Romana began to gather her belongings, ‘I’m…’ ‘No, don’t go!’ Hector mocked her. ‘You tell me what it’s like.’ ‘Is that all you think of me? Aren’t you going to even give me an answer?’ ‘I think you should take a good look at yourself, Romana. I don’t think I can help you.’ Romana flew off the sofa in a rage. ‘You’re un-fucking-believable.’ Hector sniggered. ‘You could change. You know that? It’s not too late.”

“I've had lovers,' Mor clarified, 'but... I get bored. And Cassian has had them, too, so don't get that unrequited-love, moony-woo-woo look. He just wants what he can't have, and it's irritated him for centuries that I walked away and never looked back.' 'Oh, it drives him insane,' Rhys said from behind me, and I jumped. But the High Lord was circling me. I crossed my arms as he paused and smirked. 'You look like a woman again.' 'You really know how to compliment females, cousin,' Mor said, and patted him on the shoulder.”