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V Quotes

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All V Quotes

“Violet Sorrengail, for the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you." I lift my chin. "Tairneanach." The woman grins, shaking her head as she writes down his name. "I can't believe he bonded. Violet, he's a legend." "Andarnaurram." The sweet, high voice of the golden fills my mind. "Andarna for short." I feel the blood rush from my face, and the edges of my vision sway as I pivot on my good ankle, staring back across the fields at where the golden dragon -Andarna- now stands between Tairn's front legs. "Excuse me?" "Violet, are you alright?" the redhead asks, and everyone around me, above me, leans in. "Tell her," the golden insists. "Tairn. What am I supposed to-" I think at him. "Tell the roll-keeper her name," Tairn echoes. "Violet?" the roll keeper repeats. "Do you need a mender?" I turn back to the woman and clear my throat. " And Andarnaurram," I whisper. Her eyes fly wide. "Both dragons?" She squeaks. I nod. And all hell breaks loose. Two dragons. I have...two dragons.”

“Violet Sorrengail,' she whispers, moving closer. 'Are you wearing Riorson's flight jacket?' Liam's head snaps in my direction, curse his stupidly good hearing. 'Why would you say that?' I do a shitty job of feigning shock and shove the sheaths into every available pocket in this thing. All three of them, which are considerably deeper than the ones in my own jacket. 'Oh, I don't know. Because it's huge on you and there are three stars right here?' She taps where there's only one star on her uniform. Well, shit. Just goes to show that neither of us was thinking clearly. 'It could be any third-year's.' I shrug. 'With a Fourth Wing shield on the shoulder?' She cocks an eyebrow. 'That does limit it a bit,' I agree. 'And a wingleader emblem beneath those stars?' she teases. 'Fine, it's his.”

“Violet Sorrengail,'" she whispers, moving closer. 'Are you wearing Riorson's flight jacket?" Liam's head snaps in my direction, curse his stupidly good hearing. "Why would you say that?" I do a shitty job of feigning shock and shove the sheaths into every available pocket in this thing. All three of them, which are considerably deeper than the ones in my own jacket. "Oh, I don't know. Because it's huge on you and there are three stars right here?" She taps where there's only one star on her uniform. Well, shit. Just goes to show that neither of us was thinking clearly. "It could be any third-year's." I shrug. "With a Fourth Wing shield on the shoulder?" She cocks an eyebrow. "That does limit it a bit," I agree. "And a wingleader emblem beneath those stars?" she teases. "Fine, it's his." I whisper quickly. "I knew it!" Rhi grins. "Tell me it's good." "I broke his window." I wince and my cheeks heat. "Like...you threw something at it?" Her brow knits. "No. As in, lightning struck... a lot. and I shattered his window.”

“Violet suddenly felt something in her as her anger and adrenaline pulsed through her body like a raving lunatic. She felt the rage from before, trying to rise above her control. Her hands began to elongate and her nails grew to razor sharp knives. She tried to hold back the intense metamorphosis, but the more she let go, the better she felt. Millions of coarse hairs sprouted from her skin and covered her in a dense, white fur. Her eyes dilated and contracted with the effort of balancing light. Her face grew into a furry white snout and her limbs grew to immense sizes, filled with muscle. She looked down at herself. She was a beautiful werewolf. A white werewolf! She tried to laugh, but it came out as small barks. She was expecting black fur instead.”

“Violet, wake up! You are not in some pre-colonial, pre-internet hellhole. WAKE UP! But no matter how many times she rubbed her eyes or pinched herself to the point of almost bleeding, she was still there, on that same dirt floor, on the same animal pelt, still trying not to look at that one boy. Was she a captive to these people? Was she some sort of prisoner?”

“Violet,' Xaden groans against my mouth. The plea in his tone floods my veins with a whole different form of power. Knowing he's just as affected by our attraction as I am is a rush. 'This isn't what you want.' 'It's exactly what I want,' I counter. I want to replace the anger with lust, the death of the day with the pulse-pounding assurance of my own life, and I know he's capable of delivering all that and more. 'You said to do whatever I need.' I arch my back, pressing the tips of my breasts against his chest. His breathing changes, and there's a war in his eyes that I'm determined to win. It's time to stop dancing around this unbearable tension and break it. He leans down, his mouth only inches from mine. 'And I'm telling you that I'm the last thing you need.' The barely leashed growl of his voice rumbles up through his chest, and every nerve ending in my body flares to life. 'Are you suggesting someone else?' My heart races as I chance calling his bluff. 'Fuck no.' The unmistakable flare of jealousy narrows his eyes for a heartbeat before his hips pin mine to the door, and my instant relief at his answer is replaced by a jolt of pure lust. I can see that infamous control of his hovering on the edge, balancing precariously on the point of a knife. All he needs is one. Little. Push. And I'm about to shamelessly shove. 'Good.' I tilt my head up to his and draw his bottom lip between mine, sucking before gently nipping him with my teeth. 'Because I only want you, Xaden.' The words breach something within him, and he gives. Finally. One mouths collide, and the kiss is hot and hard and completely out of our control.”

“Violeta put her head down in her humble way. "I'm certainly able to bray loudly, Bart, dear. But that would attract a lot of attention. I don't like to do that because it is not always a good thing. Besides, braying loudly wastes energy. I don't want to do that unless it's for something very important." Bart thought that made a lot of sense. The silly goats were always making noises over the littlest things. "Oh, we're being let out now? Buh-uh-uh! Oh, there's a butterfly! Buh-uh-uh!" The lambs and the ewes were only slightly better. You're right, Violeta. From now on I'm not going to make noise without a good reason, either," said Bart.”

“Violinists wear the imprint on their necks with pride For they are the players of harmony. Pilgrims, too, wear the imprint on their foreheads with pride For they are the conductors of unity. And Lovers? Why, they are made humble by the imprint on their hearts For they are merely the instruments of rhapsody.”

“Viona’s heart throbbed with intense joy. With beating wings it took off and soared across the sky, going higher than it had ever been before; such weighty, powerful feelings it carried, yet it remained as light as a feather. This had to be what it felt like to be in love, she decided. And if it wasn’t, then love would have a lot to live up to.”

“Vipassana arises as you pay awareness to the inner and outer experience unfolding at the present moment. Vipassana is not associated with any rigid formula or methods. Whenever you are aware of your mental or physical feelings like tension in the muscles, movement of limbs, stiffness, heat or cold, you have begun to develop special understanding of realities.”

“Virgil Thomson, the great classical music critic, who was also a composer, but said that criticism was the only antidote he knew to pay publicity. Critics at their best are independent voices people take seriously their responsibility to see as many things as they can see, put them in the widest possible perspective, educate their readers, I really do think of myself as a teacher. Newspapers that don't carry arts criticism at all while not fulfill this function. And probably their arts journalism will be deprived as a result.”