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S Quotes

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All S Quotes

“She's probably planning on taking me out to a field and shooting me. Then she'll completely dismember me and ship my body parts off to my friends and family. When they take her to trial, she'll plead insanity and get away with it. Everyone will feel so bad for her, the poor sick girl who went crazy and killed her boyfriend. She'd end up a martyr somehow, and everyone would forget about it. Shit's messed up, man.”

“She's proud of you. She said so herself. And she knows you deserved a chance to be happy. I know that, too" I added. "I just wish Henry could look at me the way he looks at you." Persephone wrapped her fingers around mine. "You should be glad he doesn't. When he looks at me, he hurts. But when he sees you..." She smiled faintly "He has hope. I'm not surprised you don't notice it. It took me a while to read him, too. I spent thousands of years with him though, and I know that look. I saw it the day we got married. You don't forget the first time someone looks at you like that.”

“she's remembering her soul dna… how it's magic-touched. how she's flower essence. how she's fire soul. how she's allowed to trust that she's protected and carried on her way… even in the unknown, even in the wild. and that her lungs should breathe so freely and her wings should be untethered… and that the voice that should have the most say here is the one inside her heart.”

“She's saying something. My mother's words found me, there in the black. I pinched my eyes closed, her face coming into perfect view One long, dark red braid over her shoulder. Pale gray eyes the color of morning fog and the sea-dragon necklace around her neck as she looked up into the clouds above us. Isolde loved the storms. That night, the bell rang out and my father came for me, pulling me from my hammock bleary-eyed and confused. and when he put me in the rowboat, I screamed for my mother until my throat was raw. The Lark was already half-sunk, disappearing in the water behind us. My mother called it touching the soul of the storm. When she came upon us like that, she was taking us into her hart and letting us see her. She was saying something. And only then would we know what lay within her. Only then would we know who she was.”

“She's so small, it's alarming, like handling fine crystal beneath him. He's constantly worried about crushing her, but she doesn't seem to mind him on top. In fact, she pulls him that much closer, eager for more. Eden sucks on his bottom lip, raking her fingers through his hair like she's searching for a lifeline out in the middle of murky waters. She rolls her hips against him again, unleashing lava through his veins. Her hands are just as greedy as his, dragging down to the front of his chest, wandering further to the front of his pants. Eden palms at his erection through the stiff fabric of his jeans, and he just about loses it. "Eden---" There's something ravenous in her eyes. Something seductive and dangerous. It's pure, unadulterated hunger. They're both chefs. They should know. They move with purpose. Eden undoes his belt, he slips his hands beneath her shirt. She gropes the front of his boxer briefs, he lightly squeezes her small breasts. He mouths at the delicate skin of her throat, she parts her legs that much wider. They breathe as one, panting and groaning and drowning in the pursuit of pleasure.”

“She's still quite fit at ninety, fit enough to chew her food with her own teeth. Apparently she grew up in a house without a bar of soap, let alone tooth powder. Her family didn't have electricity until she started elementary school, and she'd never seen a train until the tracks of the Koumi line were laid in Saku. It's exactly as if she were born in the Edo period. These days, you only have to drive for five minutes to find a sparkling clean convenience store, with bright lights above shelves stocked with everything you could possibly need. Land that used to be fields of mulberry bushes is now crisscrossed by smooth, wide roads lined with video rental stores and fast food restaurants. I would say O-Hatsu has seen more changes in her lifetime than I have. After all, she lived for most of the century when this country was changing faster than it ever had before. Even so, I have a feeling that the inside of her head has remained much the same as when she was a girl. By "the inside of her head" I mean the way she sees the world around her—the language she uses to make sense of it. In my case, the very way I looked at the world and the words I used to understand it had altogether changed.”

“She’s stronger than you are, Sam. It’s like fighting yourself and Caine and Jack and Dekka, all at once.” “Yeah.” “Talk to Astrid about it.” “I already talked to Astrid.” “And she’s okay with a suicide mission? Because I’m not. You go out there, go to win, huh? Don’t go out there thinking you’re doing us a favor by getting killed.” Sam sighed. “It’s the endgame, my friend.” “Sam . . .,” Edilio began, but that was all he had, that one word, that one-word plea for a different solution. “Take care of Astrid for me. Try to keep her safe and don’t let her follow me.”

“She's terrified that all these sensations and images are coming out of her — but I think she's even more terrified to find out why." Carla's description was typical of survivors of chronic childhood abuse. Almost always, they deny or minimize the abusive memories. They have to: it's too painful to believe that their parents would do such a thing.”