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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“They stood brow to brow, brown to white, black to black, he supporting her elbows, she playing her limp light fingers over his collarbone, and how he "ladored,"he said, the dark aroma of her hair blending with crushed lily stalks, Turkish cigarettes and the lassitude that comes from "lass." "No, no, don't," she said, I must wash, quick-quick, Ada must wash; but for yet another immortal moment they stood embraced in the hushed avenue, enjoying as they had never enjoyed before, the "happy-forever" feeling at the end of never-ending fairy tales.”

“They stood in the courtyard at Our Lady Queen of Angels Catholic Church and stared at each other in silence, then Stanton pulled her into the shadows near a window and kissed her forehead. He cupped his hands around her face. When she didn't resist his touch, he let his hands smooth gently down her neck over her shoulders to her back. "I had to come see you," he whispered against her ear, breathing in her fragrance. His fingers stroked her back, and savored the silky feel of her blouse. He nestled his lips on her temple, her satiny hair tickling his cheek. He drew back, wanting to kiss her, but hesitated, waiting for permission. She closed her eyes and let her arms slowly slip to his back, pulling him to her. He bent forward and when his lips touched hers, the sensation was electric. As they kissed, he weaved in and out of her mind, enjoying the luxury of sorting through her memories again and seeing what she had been doing. He lingered over her thoughts of him. Finally, he pulled back and looked at her. She smiled, letting him see the truth; she still cared for him.”

“They stood in the courtyard of Swangard Palace, too cold to be comfortable despite the sun, and they looked fully on one another, knowing that they were friends, and would always be. A lot of water under this bridge too, Mark thought, with something like awe. He was growing older. Old enough to feel the current of what had been flowing under him, leading to his future. Old enough to look back over his shoulder, and see his past behind him, and grieve for what was gone, and honour its memory. He felt, suddenly, how much it would hurt him if Val died; felt an echo of that pain, knowing that the Valerian he had known, fluffy and peering and hapless and altogether wonderful: this Valerian was already dying. Not physically, of course, but the man he remembered from that first night in Swangard Palace would be gone the next time they met, though his ghost would linger on in Val forever, and in their memories. Three cheers for ghosts, Mark thought. Three cheers for the dead. Of course Val would be much the same: better, even. As full of wonder and delight, with big pockets full of puzzles and fascinating stories about the lives of ants and ingenious designs for windmills that would do your washing. And they would still be friends, excellent friends. It could even be better next time. But it would never be the same.”

“They stood there for a while, not saying anything. Then Eli said: 'Do you want to come in?' Oskar didn't reply. Eli pulled on her T-shirt, lifted her hands, let them fall. 'I'm never going to hurt you.' 'I know that.' 'What are you thinking about?' 'That T-shirt. Is it from the trash room?' '...yes.' 'Have you washed it?' Eli didn't answer. 'You're a little gross, you know that?' 'I can change, if you like.' 'Good. Do that.”

“They stood together a moment; both her hands were in both of his. 'You've been my best friend,' she said. 'It was for you that I wanted — that I wanted to live. But I'm of no use to you.' Then it came over her more poignantly that she should not see him again. She could not accept that; she could not part with him that way. 'If you should send for me I'd come,' she said at last. 'Your husband won't consent to that.' 'Oh yes, I can arrange it.' 'I shall keep that for my last pleasure!' said Ralph. In answer to which she simply kissed him.”

“They stood up and the world was totally different. The wheat was an onyx sea, ever moving in shadow. Above it the heavens were illuminated with the wink of stars and planets, the Milky Way like a giant streak of glimmer slashing across the sky. She was standing right next to him, awed by the beauty of the night sky and their tiny, tiny place in it. It seemed perfectly natural that he leaned down to gently press his lips to her temple. It wasn’t a kiss really, it was a consolation. “Take my hand,” he said. D.J. could see nothing as he unerringly led her through the darkened grain to the edge of the field.”

“They streaked past a black door. STOREROOM NUMBER 71, it said on it. WHIPS - ALL SHAPES AN SIZES. "Whips!' cried Veruca Salt. "What on earth do you use whips for?" "For whipping cream of course," said Wonka. "How can you whip cream without whips? Whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all unless it's been whipped with whips. Just as a poached egg isn't a poached egg unless it's been stolen from the woods in the dead of night! Row on please!”

“They swept down into a great V, sentinels at watch withdrawing, gray swirls and curves of mountains reaching upwards in carefully-shaded lines of chalk and silhouette that overlooked the enormity of a sun-kissed world dreamt in glass-blown shapes. There was a deep, pervading serenity, quiet and solitary, in this sanctuary of branch and water, drifting across in far-reaching swells, and I breathed it in—breathed it in as if it could purge any poison from my heart.”

“They swore an oath which none shall break, and none should take, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and Manwë they named in witness, and Varda, and the hallowed mountain of Taniquetil, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature, great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possession.”