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W Quotes

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All W Quotes

“What did you do, Jess?” Keaton said. I wanted to give her the same lie that I had used from day one—nothing had happened and everything was fine—but the words wouldn’t form. Speaking would damn me as easily as silence. Keaton approached me, crouching in front of me until I was forced to look into her big blue eyes. I had a moment where I hated her for doing this. Then, it dissolved away. I used to think my hate made me strong. For so long, I had used it as a shield to distance myself, to keep the world at bay, because things were easier that way. Or so it seemed. I hadn’t understood that in reality, my hate made me ugly, it made me weak. Seeing the soul inside of my best friend told me just how much that hate had cost me. She reached forward to hug me, and I broke down into tears.”

“What did you do to make him smile?” “Ah…” Alessandro bit back a grin and cleared his throat. “I might’ve sung a song.” “Really? What song?” “As his mother, I don’t think I should repeat it for you,” Alessandro said, his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink. “Oh come on, Alessandro. The windows didn’t break so you couldn’t have done that bad a job.” “It’s not my ability that I’m referring to,” Alessandro replied. Bree narrowed her eyes. “Just what were you singing to my son? And so help me if you say anything by Sir Mix-a-lot I’ll castrate you,” “Not quite,” Alessandro said. “All right. But, remember you asked for it. Your cousin Max, taught it to me.” Bree crossed her arms over her breasts and waited.”

“What did you do to your hair? I don’t like it as much.” His brow knitted. “How do you like it?” “I prefer the curls.” He looked as if she’d told him she preferred him with three eyes. “You used to make fun of them. You told me that if Bo Peep had a child with one of her sheep it would have hair like mine.” She burst out laughing—and gasped at the pain that shot through her scalp. “You are not making it up, are you? Did I really say that?” “Sometimes you called me Goldilocks.” She had to remind herself not to laugh again. “And you married me? I sound like a very odious sort of girl.” “I was a very odious sort of boy, so you might say we were evenly matched.” She didn’t know enough to comment upon that, but when he was near, she was… happier.”

“What did you do?” I mumble. He is just a few feet away from me now, but not close enough to hear me. As he passes me he stretches out his hand. He wraps it around my palm and squeezes. Squeezes, then lets go. His eyes are bloodshot; he is pale. “What did you do?” This time the question tears from my throat like a growl. I throw myself toward him, struggling against Peter’s grip, though his hands chafe. “What did you do?” I scream. “You die, I die too” Tobias looks over his shoulder at me. “I asked you not to do this. You made your decision. These are the repercussions.”

“What did you dream about?' Nesta's body locked up, but she launched back into motion, refusing to let the memories master her. 'I dreamed of the Cauldron. What it did to me.' Gwyn said, playing with her hair, 'I dream of my past, too.' But Gwyn's admission, Nesta's own, didn't weigh them down. Nesta's head had cleared slightly. And somehow, she found she could push herself harder. Perhaps in voicing those truths, they'd given them wings. And sent them soaring into the open sky above.”

“What did you get done this week? It's time to build. Our era is dripping with vigor and drive as it is. It's had its fill of ideas, all it wants is action. This mania for action comes from having nothing to do. I mean inwardly. It's so easy to summon the drive to action and so difficult to find a meaning in it! Hardly anyone understands this nowadays. That's why men of action look like competitors in a bowling alley who know how to knock over ten wooden things with the gestures of a Napoleon. Truly, instead of demanding deeds of one another, we ought to lay the foundations for them; that is my feeling!”

“What did you put in the fire?" Kaladin said. "To make that special smoke?" "Nothing. It was just and ordinary fire." "But, I saw-" "What you saw belongs to you. A story doesn't live until it is imagined in someone's mind." "What does the story mean, then?" "It means what you want it to mean," Hoid said. "The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think , but to give you questions to think upon. Too often, we forget that.”

“What did you see,' Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. Again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him. 'I saw young hands wither with age. I saw a box of black stone. I saw a feather of fire land on snow and melt it.' My stomach dropped to the floor. One glance at Nesta confirmed that she felt it, too. Saw it. Mad. Elain might very well have gone mad- 'It was angry,' Elain said quietly. 'It was so, so angry that something was taken. So it took something from them as punishment.”

“What did you see in me?” “You just…looked like you needed a friend. And I did, too.” She puts her hands over mine. “No, it’s more than that. I needed to connect to someone. I felt alone, and lonely, and I felt like…well, that you would understand. That you would know how it felt to be surrounded by people and still feel adrift.”

“What did you spend so much time talking about with Ila? If you weren’t dancing with that long-legged fellow, you were talking to her like it was some kind of secret.” “Ila was giving me advice on being a woman,” Egwene replied absently. He began laughing, and she gave him a hooded, dangerous look that he failed to see. “Advice! Nobody tells us how to be men. We just are.” “That,” Egwene said, “is probably why you make such a bad job of it.”

“What did you tell Cornichet?" he asked suddenly. .."Nothing." "I assume they only just started on you." She didn't reply. "What did they want to know?" "What right do you have to take me prisoner?" she countered. "I'm no enemy of the English. I help the partisans, not the French." "As long as there's some profit in it for you, as I understand it," he said, his voice a whip crack in the dim hovel. "Don't pretend to patriotic loyalty..." "And just what business is it of yours?" she demanded furiously..."I've done you no harm. I don't interfere with the English army. You trample all over i> my country, behaving like God-given conquering heroes. All complacence and pomposity-" ..."The blood of Englishmen has watered this damnable peninsula for four interminable years, doing the work of your countrymen, trying to save you and your country from Napoleon's heel. I have lost more friends than I can count in the interests of your miserable land, and you speak against those men at your peril. Do you understand that?" ..."The English have their own reasons for being here," she retorted...England couldn't survive if Napoleon held Spain and Portugal. He'd close their ports to English trading, and you'd all starve to death." They both knew she spoke the unvarnished truth.... 1”

“What did you tell Cornichet?" he asked suddenly. .."Nothing." "I assume they only just started on you." She didn't reply. "What did they want to know?" "What right do you have to take me prisoner?" she countered. "I'm no enemy of the English. I help the partisans, not the French." "As long as there's some profit in it for you, as I understand it," he said, his voice a whip crack in the dim hovel. "Don't pretend to patriotic loyalty..." "And just what business is it of yours?" she demanded furiously..."I've done you no harm. I don't interfere with the English army. You trample all over my country, behaving like God-given conquering heroes. All complacence and pomposity-" ..."The blood of Englishmen has watered this damnable peninsula for four interminable years, doing the work of your countrymen, trying to save you and your country from Napoleon's heel. I have lost more friends than I can count in the interests of your miserable land, and you speak against those men at your peril. Do you understand that?" ..."The English have their own reasons for being here," she retorted...England couldn't survive if Napoleon held Spain and Portugal. He'd close their ports to English trading, and you'd all starve to death." They both knew she spoke the unvarnished truth....”