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S Quotes

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

All S Quotes

“She had matured over the years, growing into a gorgeous blonde with long legs, big blue eyes, and coal-black lashes that stood out against the backdrop of her Irish skin, having a darling face full of freckles. Her cheery disposition made her approachable—for not every girl had mastered the art of emotional disarmament. Lauren had. Miraculously, she was both popular—singled out, destined for success—and down-to-earth, a girl less concerned with her looks and more with the head she carried on her slender shoulders.”

“She had memories of a quiet pool in the woods, where she'd retreat with her books, hiding from chores that needed to be done around the house. She remembered the sound of her parents after sunset, calling her to come home. The fireflies would flicker around her as it became too dark to read, but still she'd stay, to watch the fireflies over the water and listen to the birds and the squirrels settle in for the night and the night hunters, the owls and and the cats, begin to wake. Once, she'd even glimpsed a unicorn sipping from the pond, but it could have been only a white deer and a trick of the twilight. Another afternoon, her father had come with her, avoiding his chores too. They'd read books side by side, and her mother hadn't said a word when they'd returned. A week later, her mother had been the one to join her by the pond, arriving with lunch in a basket and presenting Kiela with a new unread book, a rare treasure on the island.”

“She had more of me then I had of myself. We were both wild birds chasing the stars. We’d lose our way and find new places, close our eyes and fall back towards a constellation of dreams. We wrapped ourselves in a blanket of passion and each night we fell deeper without control, into this strange space called love.”

“She had never before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.”

“She had never done anything bad to me. She had been good for me, always wanting the best for me. She had no defects, flaws or shortcomings. She wanted only good and she did good. The defects, flaws and shortcomings were all mine. I tried as hard as I could to hide them from her, and I was usually successful, but it was always there, inside me, a shadow I cast, and it gave me a bad conscience. I wanted to be out of this, I wanted to be alone, then it would disappear as it wouldn't affect anyone else, I would be left with it. But to be alone I would have to leave her, finish what she had invested so much in and where, in a way, I too had invested so much. She often told me she loved me, and I didn't want to hurt her, not for anything in the world, I didn't want to turn away from her, from someone who loved me so much.”

“She had never eaten food like this before. No: she had never eaten before. It was as if these flavors had always existed, had always been there in her imagination, but now she was tasting them properly for the very first time. Each course was more intense than the last. The spaghetti was coated in a thick sauce of meat, tomatoes, and wine, rich, pungent, and sticky. The lamb, by contrast, was pink and sweet, so tender it seemed to dissolve in her mouth. It was served without vegetables, but afterward Tommaso brought the first of the contorni to the table: a whole artichoke, slathered in warm olive oil and lemon juice and sprinkled with chopped mint. Laura licked every drop of oil off her fingers, amazed by the depth of the flavor.”

“She had never had such delicious food... tender cockerel that had been simmered with tiny onions in red wine... duck confit expertly roasted until it was melting-soft beneath crisp oiled skin... rascasse fish served in thick truffled sauce... then, of course, there were the desserts... thick slices of cake soaked in liqueur and heaped with meringue, and puddings layered with nuts and glaceed fruit. As Simon witnessed Annabelle's agonized choice of what to order for dessert each night, he assured her gravely that generals had gone to war with far less deliberation than she gave to the choice between the pear tart or the vanilla souffle.”

“She had never realized any love save love as passion. Such love, though it expends itself in generosity and thoughtfulness, though it give birth to visions and to great poetry, remains among the sharpest expressions of self-interest. Not until it has passed though a long servitude, though its own self-hatred, though mockery, though great doubts, can it take its place among the loyalties. Many who have spent a lifetime in it can tell us less of love than the child that lost a dog yesterday.”

“She had never seen the Tree House at night. Vast and dark, lit with candles for the occasion, the rooms looked magical, the staircase a citadel, with its own strange inglenooks and deep dusty treads. In the fireplace, instead of wood, a great gong and mallet hung from a stand. The rooms were filled with couches and mismatched armchairs, and floor cushions, some with cats, and some without. Living ivy climbed to the ceiling and outlined every aperture. In the candlelight the ivy-framed bay window became a bower, the doorways passages to secret gardens.”

“She had never spoken that way with her cousin before, or with any other male member of her family or community. This wasn’t the kind of village where girls spoke freely in the presence of men. It wasn’t even the kind of village where girls and women walked in public with men; the small back alleys and streets that lined the houses were how they got about, staying out of the men’s way as much as possible.”