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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“That's one reason why a civil war is worse than any other sort. When two parties in a given country resort to arms to settle political differences, every man is a potential enemy to every other man, and the distinction between legalized killing and murder is not clearly drawn in the minds of average men, who are incapable of sustained thought. Death is held to be a fitting reward for those who dare hold contrary views, and a nation involved in a civil war is a breeding ground for children reared to look with tolerance on next to nothing but violence.”

“That’s our clue. I know where he is now.” Alessandro said, pulling her away from the dead fish. “A dead fish means…what? The docks?” Bree asked. Alessandro gave her a small smile. “You’re as smart as you are exquisite, my darling.” “I’m sorry. A crazy man has my son. Could we get a move on now?” Bree pushed him towards the door. “Forgive me, darling. Old habits.” Bree rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the brief, light moment. It allowed her to regroup and focus, to lift her head from the haze of panic that gripped her thus far.”

“That’s our cue,” Dr. Chadwick noted, managing to approximate a cheerful smile, addressing the room at large. “Everyone please stand behind the yellow line until the doors open. No food, drink, flash photography, or video cameras are permitted. Once aboard the ride, please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times until we come to a full and complete stop. Otherwise, they’re apt to end up in another universe somewhere without ya, and wouldn’t that fry your noggin?”

“That's our right," Dr. Gaul countered. "No, it isn't! I don't care what you say. You've no right to starve people, to punish them for no reason. No right to take away their life and freedom. These are things everyone is born with, and they're not yours for the taking. Winning a war doesn't give you the right., having more weapons' doesn't give you that right. Being from the capital doesn't give you that right. Nothing does.”

“That's pretty freaking heroic." Reyna shrugged. "Says the demigod who fell into Tartarus and found his way back." "He had help," Annabeth said. "Oh, obviously," Reyna said. "Without you, I doubt Percy could find his way out of a paper bag." "True," Annabeth agreed. "Hey!" Percy complained.”

“That’s real love and real happiness. It’s when you go to sleep every night hoping that you are less happy than your lover; it’s hoping that you’ve given everything you could to them so that their day could be just a tiny bit better.”

“That's richt. When we were campaignin' wi' Marlborough oor lads had mony time to sleep wi' the canon dirlin' aboot them. Ye get us'd to't, as Annalpa says aboot bein' a weedow woman. And if ye hae noticed it, Coont, there's nae people mair adapted for fechtin' under difeeculties than oor ane; that's what maks the Scots the finest sogers in the warld. It's the build o them, Lowlan' or Hielan', the breed o' them; the dour hard character o' their country and their mainner o' leevin'. We gied the English a fleg at the 'Forty-five,' didnae we? That was where the tartan cam' in: man, there's naethin' like us!”

“That’s right, bud. My personal apocalypse has been going on for a while now, since my name became the grossest fucking meme ever. And what, you think all the Karens of the world just upped and went to their own fucking island somewhere where we could all get bob cuts and drink caramel appletinis all day while calling the cops on imaginary black people? I mean, hello, we still walk among you.”

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Harry urged him. “You died, but I’m talking to you. . . . You can walk around Hogwarts and everything, can’t you?” “Yes,” said Nearly Headless Nick quietly, “I walk and talk, yes.” “So you came back, didn’t you?” said Harry urgently. “People can come back, right? As ghosts. They don’t have to disappear completely. Well?” he added impatiently, when Nick continued to say nothing. Nearly Headless Nick hesitated, then said, “Not everyone can come back as a ghost.” “What d’you mean?” said Harry quickly. “Only . . . only wizards.” “Oh,” said Harry, and he almost laughed with relief. “Well, that’s okay then, the person I’m asking about is a wizard. So he can come back, right?” Nick turned away from the window and looked mournfully at Harry. “He won’t come back.” “Who?” “Sirius Black.” said Nick. “But you did!” said Harry angrily. “You came back — you’re dead and you didn’t disappear —” “Wizards can leave an imprint of themselves upon the earth, to walk palely where their living selves once trod,” said Nick miserably. “But very few wizards choose that path.” “Why not?” said Harry. “Anyway — it doesn’t matter — Sirius won’t care if it’s unusual, he’ll come back, I know he will!” And so strong was his belief that Harry actually turned his head to check the door, sure, for a split second, that he was going to see Sirius, pearly white and transparent but beaming, walking through it toward him. “He will not come back,” repeated Nick quietly. “He will have . . . gone on.” “What d’you mean, ‘gone on’?” said Harry quickly. “Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn’t everyone come back? Why isn’t this place full of ghosts? Why — ?” “I cannot answer,” said Nick. “You’re dead, aren’t you?” said Harry exasperatedly. “Who can answer better than you?” “I was afraid of death,” said Nick. “I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn’t to have . . . Well, that is neither here nor there. . . . In fact, I am neither here nor there. . . .” He gave a small sad chuckle. “I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I choose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries —” “Don’t talk to me about that place!” said Harry fiercely. “I am sorry not to have been more help,” said Nick gently. “Well . . . well, do excuse me . . . the feast, you know . . .” And he left the room, leaving Harry there alone, gazing blankly at the wall through which Nick had disappeared. Harry felt almost as though he had lost his godfather all over again in losing the hope that he might be able to see or speak to him once more. He walked slowly and miserably back up through the empty castle, wondering whether he would ever feel cheerful again.”

“That’s right," It was Jace. Clary saw him, at the blurred edge of her vision, as he moved toward her and put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "It's just a kiss," he said, and though his tone was harsh, his hands were inexplicably gentle. She let him turn her, looked up at him. His eyes were very dark, perhaps because it was so dim down here in the Court, perhaps because of something else. She could see her reflection in each of his dialted pupils, a tiny image of herself inside his eyes. He said, “You can close your eyes and think of England, if you like." "I've never even been to England," she said, but she shut her eyelids. She could feel the dark heaviness of her clothes, cold and itchy against her skin, and the cloying sweet air of the cave, colder yet, and the weight of Jace's hands on her shoulders, the only things that were warm. And then he kissed her. She felt the brush of his lips, light at first, and her own opened automatically beneath the pressure. Almost against her will she felt herself go fluid and pliant, stretching upward to twine her arms around his neck the way that a sunflower twists toward light. His arms slid around her, his hands knotting in her hair, and the kiss stopped being gentle and became fierce, all in a single moment like tinder flaring into a blaze. Clary heard a sound like a sigh rush through the Court, all around them, a wave of noise, but it meant nothing, was lost in the rush of her blood through her veins, the dizzying sense of weightlessness in her body. Jace's hands moved from her hair, slid down her spine; she felt the hard press of his palms against her shoulder blades--and then he pulled away, gently disengaging himself, drawing her hands away from his neck and stepping back. For a moment Clary thought she might fall; she felt as if something essential had been torn away from her, an arm or a leg, and she stared at Jace in blank astonishment--what did he feel, did he feel nothing? She didn't think she could bear it if he felt nothing. He looked back at her, and when she saw the look on his face, she saw his eyes at Renwick's, when he had watched the Portal that separated him from his home shatter into a thousand irretrievable pieces. He held her gaze for a split second, then looked away from her, the muscles in his throat working. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. "Was that good enough?" he called, turning to face the Queen and the courtiers behind her. "Did that entertain you?" The Queen had a hand across her mouth, half-covering a smile. "We are quite entertained," she said. "But not, I think, so much as the both of you." "I can only assume," said Jace, "that mortal emotions amuse you because you have none of your own." The smile slipped from her mouth at that.”

“That's so--- God, I hate it for you." He pauses, giving me a hesitant look. "Was that... I mean, have you dated anyone since him?" I shake my head and Benny sighs. "'Good' doesn't feel like the right thing for me to say exactly, because I hate that he's your only relationship experience. But good that no one else has hurt you like that. Guys are so full of shit." I look at him with watery eyes. "You're not shitty, though." A smile starts at the edges of his lips. "Aw, Reese's Cup. That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." I laugh then, letting a couple of tears spill onto my cheeks. Benny's face gets serious again as he brings his free hand up to wipe the tears away, then leaves it resting against my jaw. "Seriously, Reese. I'm so sorry that happened and that you continue to deal with it. I wish I could take it all away and make the world an easier place for you by the sheer force of how pissed off I am at everyone who hurt you.”