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W Quotes

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All W Quotes

“What Wendy felt was a spray of something that could only be described as golden. Light, effervescent, slightly dry. Fuzzy, like the horrible mineral waters Mother sometimes made Father take to aid his digestion. But not with the terrible metallic taste. For the brief moment she could taste anything at all, it was sweet- or no, maybe sour like lemons. No, not that, either- more like sparks from a fire.”

“What went on between you and my mom? Did you seduce all the Liddell women? Did you tell them the same pretty words you told me?” I curl my legs beneath my dress, feeling small and vulnerable for even asking. Morpheus scoots aside some glass with his boot and kneels. He takes my hand in his. “I’ve known but three generations of Liddell women. Counting the ones in London, there’s been twenty or so. Most were oblivious and unreachable—they didn’t hear the nether-call. The others weren’t strong enough to face their lineage without losing their minds. As for Alison, she and I were business partners. There has never been more than that between us. There’s only one Liddell I desire, only one who earns my undying devotion.” He works a fingertip into the lace at my elbow and drags off the glove. “The one who was my truest friend … who took my place and braved the attack that was meant for me.””

“What went on in that head of his? I would soon come to understand that he gave voice to only a fraction of the thoughts that swam behind his eyes. It was not nearly so clean and smooth in there as it seemed. Other lives were housed in that mind, parallel worlds. Maybe we’re all built a little bit that way. But most of us drop hints. Most of us leave clues. My father was more careful. When I think now of that moment in the kitchen, an almost unbelievable thought comes to my mind: There was a time when those two people - that man hunched at the table and that woman shouting in a bathrobe - were young. The proof was in the pictures that hung on the living room walls, a pretty girl and a bookish guy, a studio apartment in a crumbling Hollywood building overlooking a courtyard and a kidney-shaped pool. This was the mythical period before I was born, when my mother was not a mother and was instead an actress who might make it someday/. How much sweeter life would be if it all happened in reverse, if, after decades of disappointment, you finally arrived at an age when you had conceded nothing, when everything was possible. I like to think about how my parents’ lives once shimmered in front of them, half hidden, like buried gold. Back then the future was whatever they imagined - and they never imagined this.”

“What were once felt to be defects-isolation, institutional simplicity, primitiveness of manners, multiplicity of religions, weaknesses in the authority of the state-could now be seen as virtues, not only by Americans themselves but by enlightened spokesmen of reform, renewal and hope wherever they may be-in London coffeehouses, in Parisian salons, in the courts of German princes.”

“What were once only hopes for the future have now come to pass; it is almost exactly 13 years since the overwhelming majority of people in Ireland and Northern Ireland voted in favour of the agreement signed on Good Friday 1998, paving the way for Northern Ireland to become the exciting and inspirational place that it is today.”

“What were the Mechanic's elders like? She had said they were like his own, strange though that sounded. Did they listen to her? Had she passed on the warning, only to have her elders dismiss her words as Alain's elders had dismissed his? He suddenly felt certain that this Mechanic had no choice but to go onward to danger. Once again, he knew how she must feel. A strange sensation, worrisome. How to make it go away? How to release the hold she had placed upon him? She had saved his life. Alain almost smiled before he caught himself. That was it. Several times she had "helped" him. The Mechanic had used that to influence him. No wonder the elders warned against helping. How to cancel it out? Like cancelled like. Power could defeat power. She had saved him, she had helped him. He would help her, perhaps even save her life. That would cancel whatever the Mechanic had done to him. He would be free of her. The logic had no flaws.”

“What were the odds that she'd turn away at the same instant the ball came flying her way? And that she'd be holding a soda in a crowd at a volleyball game she didn't even want to watch, in a place she didn't want to be? In a million years, the same thing should probably never happen again. With odds like that, she should have bought a lottery ticket.”

“What were the relations between the Jews and the secret societies? That is not easy to elucidate, for we lack reliable evidence. Obviously they did not dominate in these associations, as the writers, whom I have just mentioned, pretended; they were not necessarily the soul, the head, the grand master of masonry as Gougenot des Mousseaux affirms. It is certain however that there were Jews in the very cradle of masonry, kabbalist Jews, as some of the rites which have been preserved prove.”

“What were they now but cerements shaken from the body of death—the fear he had walked in night and day, the incertitude that had ringed him round, the shame that had abased him within and without—cerements, the linens of the grave? His soul had arisen from the grave of boyhood, spurning her graveclothes. Yes! Yes! Yes! He would create proudly out of the freedom and power of his soul, as the great artificer whose name he bore, a living thing, new and soaring and beautiful, impalpable, imperishable.”

“What were you chanting when you gave me your blood?” “More of my vampire magic. I cast a healing spell to aid the powers of my blood.” She sniffled, her nose stuffy. “It was better than Vicodin.” “Vicodin?” “A painkiller from my world.” “A killer of pain. Did you love him?” The words were growled.A burst of unexpected humor gave her strength. “No. In fact, he was hard to shake. He, uh, stalked me, that kind of thing. I had to pretend he didn’t exist.” Nicolai kissed her temple and relaxed against her.”

“What were you doing? This lot said you were over there," he growled, pointing to the section of the library he'd just searched. Rosa batted her lashes. "I went to see how Plunger was getting on. He's slowing down our work by trying to use his dick as a paintbrush." Plunger shrugged like that wasn't unusual behaviour. "It is the way of my crea-tiv-it-ai." “It’s creativit- tee ,”

“What were you doing tonight anyway?' 'What makes you ask?' His tone clearly insinuates that I shouldn't. Too bad. 'You made it to my room within minutes, and you're not exactly dressed for sleeping.' He's strapped with a sword for crying out loud. 'Maybe I sleep in my armour, too.' 'Then you should pick more trustworthy bedmates.' He snorts, a flash of a smile appearing for a heartbeat. A real one. Not the fake, forced sneer I'm used to seeing or the cocky little smirk. An honest, heart-stopping smile that I'm anything but immune to.”

“What were you dreaming about?" "You." He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. "I always dream about you." "Oh, yeah? Because I thought you were having a nightmare." He tipped his head back to look at her. "Sometimes I dream you're gone," he said. "I keep wondering when you'll figure out how much better you could do and leave me.”

“What were you going to make for Christmas dinner?” one of my older children asked in a very reasonable tone. I cleared my throat, but couldn’t speak. There was no real explanation for my behavior. I’d been so intent on getting through this first Christmas without David. I’d found new rituals to replace the old, wrapped gifts, and even made cutout sugar cookies. I’d modified Christmas in order to endure it. What I hadn’t done was plan on or prepare a Christmas meal. Everyone was looking at me expectantly by this point, including my sweet, hungry grandchildren. “I forgot all about Christmas dinner,” I finally admitted. No one batted an eye.”

“What were you looking at?" She pointed to a bright star. "Polaris." He shook his head, and pointed to another part of the sky. "That's Polaris. You were looking at Vega." She chuckled. "Ah. No wonder I was finding it unimpressive." He leaned back and stretched his long legs out. "It's the fifth brightest star in the sky." She laughed. "You forget I am one of five sisters. In my world, fifth brightest is last." She looked up. "With apologies to the star in question, of course." "And are you often last?" She shrugged. "Sometimes. It is not a pleasant ranking." "I assure you, Pippa. You are rarely last.”

“What were you saying, Agnes?" Taylor said, his smile widening. "I was saying you're an evil moron whom fate and karma are going to take care of," Agnes said. "Now your line is 'Who's Fate and Karma, and what did I ever do to them?'" "That's not funny," Taylor said. Agnes looked at Mr. Harrison. "I thought it was a little funny, didn't you?" "A little," he said, smiling. Taylor glared at him and he shrugged.”

“What were you singing?" Merritt asked. "A lullaby?" "An old song from the islands, about a selkie." Seeing the word was unfamiliar, he explained, "A changeling, who looks like a seal in the water but takes the form of a man on land. In the song he woos a human maiden, who gives birth to his son. Seven years later, he comes back to take the child." Keir hesitated before adding absently, "But before they leave, the selkie tells the mother he'll give the boy a gold chain to wear on his neck, so she'll recognize him if they meet someday." "Are she and her son ever reunited?" Merritt asked. Keir shook his head. "Someone brings her the gold chain one day, and she realizes he's dead. Shot by-" He broke off as he saw Merritt's face begin to crumple. "Och," he exclaimed softly. "No... dinna do that..." "It's so terribly sad," she said in a watery voice, damning herself for being emotional. A chuckle broke from Keir as he moved closer. "I won't tell you the rest, then." His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb wiping an escaping tear. "'Tis only a song, lass. Ah, you've a tender heart." His blue eyes sparkled as he looked down at her. "I warn you, no more tears or I'll have to put you on my shoulder and pat you asleep as I did the bairnie." It left Merritt temporarily speechless, that he sincerely seemed to believe she would regard that as a threat.”