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W Quotes

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All W Quotes

“With my work I attempt to help man to overcome his alienation; I do this by surrounding his daily life with objects, which confront him in a tactile way with the final and deepest problems of our existence. I want the means that I employ to create the necessary stimulus to be as direct as possible. Instead of giving a sermon on humility, I often prefer to depict humility itself.”

“With Naomi's help, Lara bathed leisurely in hot lavender-scented water and smoothed perfumed cream over her shoulders, arms, and throat. A faint dusting of pearl powder gave a translucent gleam to her face, while an application of rose-tinted salve made her lips dewy and pink. Naomi pulled Lara's hair into a braided coil atop her head, giving the effect of a sable crown, and adorned it with individual pearls sewn onto pins. Lara's gown was simple yet beautiful, a delicate sheath of white overlaid with silvery gauze. The neckline swooped dramatically low, while the sleeves were nothing more than transparent bands of silver lace.”

“With Nicasia by his side, Cardan drew others to him until he formed a malicious little foursome who prowled the isles of Elfhame looking for trouble. They unravelled precious tapestries and set fire to part of the Crooked Forest. They made their instructors at the palace school weep and made courtiers terrified to cross them. Valerian, who loved cruelty the way some Folk loved poetry. Locke, who had a whole empty house for them to run amok in, along with an endless appetite for merriment. Nicasia, whose contempt for the land made her eager to have all of Elfhame kiss her slipper. And Cardan, who modelled himself on his eldest brother and learned how to use his status to make Folk scrape and grovel and bow and beg, who delighted in being a villain. Villains were wonderful. They got to be cruel and selfish, to preen in front of mirrors and poison apples, and trap girls on mountains of glass. They indulged all their worst impulses, revenged themselves for the least offense, and took every last thing they wanted. And sure, they wound up in barrels studded with nails, or dancing in iron shoes heated by fire, not just dead, but disgraced and screaming. But before they got what was coming to them, they got to be the fairest in the land.”

“With no chance to take off, I had to play my role, searching for the rendezvous spot, which gave me the excuse to look for an escape opportunity. Maybe a hole in the wall too small for Tori’s mom to follow me through or a precarious stack of boxes I could topple onto her head or an abandoned hammer I could brain her with. I’d never “brained” anyone in my life, but with Tori’s mom, I was willing to try.”

“With no change in the tone of her voice, Lydia began to pray in tongues. And at that instant I felt--actually felt--a wave of warmth pass from her hands into my head and then swiftly down through my chest and arms. The sensation was of heat, but without the effect of heat: I didn't feel flushed or hot. It was like coming close to some immense source of heat, a blast furnace or a sun, that had no burning quality whatever.”

“With no other choice, Tory approached Ash slowly. Warily. Could he even tell if it was her? By the way he was acting, she didn't think so. "Baby?" He looked up at her with blood red eyes that held no semblance of understanding. They were feral and cold. The eyes of a predator. With a speed she couldn't even see with her naked eye, Ash was off the floor. He grabbed her by the throat, threw her down on the ground and sank his fangs deep into her neck. Ash's head buzzed and his shoulder ached as he finally slaked some of the hunger that had been tearing at him for days. The blood was so good. So warm and satisfying. He licked and sucked, drinking it in until he was normal again. But as he returned to himself, his anger mounted that she'd let him go so long without nourishment. Even though he hadn't been able to speak, he remembered her watching him through the door. You'll eat when you please me..." She knew what those words did to him and he was tired of her abuse. "Artemis, you..." His words trailed off as he pulled away from her throat and realized it wasn't Artemis he was holding. It was Tory and she was extremely pale from the blood loss. Horror filled him. Her neck was savagely torn from his teeth, her brown eyes half-hooded as she struggled to breathe. No! His soul screamed out. How could he have hurt her? How could he be so far gone that he hadn't even realized it was Tory he tasted? Because Artemis had kept him without food for too long. And then she'd thrown a human in with him, knowing a human couldn't survive his feeding. "Oh gods," he breathed, choking. "Stay with me, baby. I'll get you help." She coughed as she reached up to touch his lips that were covered in her blood from his feeding. He saw the fear in her eyes and the pain that he'd caused her. The guilt was more than he could bear. "Soteria?" he whispered her name like a prayer. "Akribos?" She expelled one last breath before her eyes glazed over and her hand fell limply to the ground where it landed palm up. Unimaginable grief tore through him as he realized he'd just killed her. Throwing his head back, Ash bellowed from the weight of guilt and pain that assaulted him. He would never have hurt her. Never!”

“With no other privilege than that of sympathy and sincere good wishes, I would address an affectionate exhortation to the youthful literati, grounded on my own experience. It will be but short; for the beginning, middle, and end converge to one charge: NEVER PURSUE LITERATURE AS A TRADE.”