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W Quotes

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All W Quotes

“Wait!' Evangeline called. 'What's your name?' You already know, Little Fox. But once again, his thoughts weren't projected loudly enough for her to hear. Instead, he gave her the name he'd planned on. He knew she wouldn't remember it, and he needed to make sure he didn't forget it. 'You can call me Archer.”

“Wait for a very cold winter night when everyone has run away to their homes and do the opposite of what everyone else is doing, go out! Yes, now you are not an ordinary person anymore! So what's your reward? Your reward is to experience reality to the fullest; the further you move away from your comfort zone, the better you understand the universe!”

“Wait for me.” If his voice was just a bit hoarse, she didn’t seem to take note of it. She looked at him as though he had reached over and slapped her. “You don’t trust me? After all that talk of taking me for my word—” “This isn’t about trust.” “That is precisely what this is about.” Her fingers fisted in her skirts. “Because I’ve trusted you.” It hurt him to hear it. He didn’t know what else to do. He had no contacts left. He was walking around now like a blind man. He didn’t need the added weight of her safety on his conscience. Caine’s eyes fell away again. “Maybe you shouldn’t.” That earned him a flustered: “You told me to!”

“Wait, for now. Distrust everything if you have to. But trust the hours. Haven’t they carried you everywhere, up to now? Personal events will become interesting again. Hair will become interesting. Pain will become interesting. Buds that open out of season will become interesting. Second-hand gloves will become lovely again; their memories are what give them the need for other hands. The desolation of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness carved out of such tiny beings as we are asks to be filled; the need for the new love is faithfulness to the old. Wait. Don’t go too early. You’re tired. But everyone’s tired. But no one is tired enough. Only wait a little and listen: music of hair, music of pain, music of looms weaving our loves again. Be there to hear it, it will be the only time, most of all to hear your whole existence, rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.”

“Wait for the placement. Wait for your placement. I will cause you to pull up that place in you that needs to have this piece fitted. If you will reach down deep and pull up that place that only I can fill, I will fill it. There's a blessing that you have not released, and I am saying, 'Pull that deep blessing up. It is down deep within you. When that blessing forms in your mouth and comes forth, blessings that you've been waiting for will pour upon you.'”

“Wait,” he said, and he had his hand outstretched toward me, fingertips just brushing the sleeve of my sweatshirt, gently rooting me to the spot. I wanted to shrug him off, but at the same time, I wanted to fall against him and bury my face in his shoulder. I wanted to commiserate about what had just happened, and make sure he was okay, and discuss how Stanton really is psychotic. I did none of the above.”

“Wait,” he said. “That’s not a word.” I looked down to where, in a moment of desperation, I’d played zixic on a triple-word-score space. “Uh, sure it is.” “What’s it mean?” “It’s sort of like…quixotic, but with more…” “Bullshit?” I laughed out loud. I’d never heard him swear before. “More zeal. Hence the z.” “Uh-huh. Use it in a sentence.” “Um…’You are a zixic writer.’“ “I don’t believe this.” “That you’re zixic?” “That you’re trying to cheat at Scrabble.” He leaned back against my couch, shaking his head. “I mean, I was ready to accept the whole evil thing, but this is kind of extreme.”

“Wait,' he says, taking a step toward me. 'I want to see you again.' I groan, too exasperated for surprise. I am standing here in a borrowed blanket, boots, and mall-bought underwear. I am smeared in soil, and I have just made a fool of myself. 'Why?' He looks at me as though he sees something else entirely. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes me stand up a little straighter, despite the dirt. 'Because you're like a story that hasn't happened yet. Because I want to see what you will do. I want to be part of the unfolding of the tale.”

“Wait!” he told himself, “give it time. After all, a human being is complex and probably responds slowly.” He was still thinking that when a voice said right into his ears, “Emergency report: power be now used by a not known unit.” Marin jumped involuntarily and turned his head. The shock of that voice was throbbing inside him as he twisted his head and looked around wildly for the speaker. Except for the silent form, on the floor beside him, the laboratory was empty. Before he could think about that, a second voice said, “Directional find —did be find interfere unit—Group 814 area.” There was a pause, and once more Marin gazed around the room. It was still deserted. His mind began to work. He thought, Why, they’re speaking straight into my brain. Mental telepathy. But how—what? That was as far as he got. A third voice said, “No contact be possible. Receiving unit be human person. Further operation command be now necessary and include more data.” Other sensations—not verbal—were coming now. They seemed to be more on the level of automatic processes, partly below consciousness. Marin could feel a tugging at what seemed to be the base of his brain, and then, vaguely, stirrings inside his body: changes taking place, readjustments of functions, tiny manipulations of his glands and cells. The contact was as deep and thorough as that.”

“Wait,” I repeated. The darkness vanished, leaving Rhysand in his solid form as he grinned. “Yes?” I raised my chin as high as I could manage. “Just two weeks?” “Just two weeks,” he purred, and knelt before me. “Two teensy, tiny weeks with me every month is all I ask.” “Why? And what are to … to be the terms?” I said, fighting past the dizziness. “Ah,” he said, adjusting the lapel of his obsidian tunic. “If I told you those things, there’d be no fun in it, would there?” I looked at my ruined arm. Lucien might never come, might decide I wasn’t worth risking his life any further, not now that he’d been punished for it. And if Amarantha’s healers cut off my arm … Nesta would have done the same for me, for Elain. And Tamlin had done so much for me, for my family; even if he had lied about the Treaty, about sparing me from its terms, he’d still saved my life that day against the naga, and saved it again by sending me away from the manor. I couldn’t think entirely of the enormity of what I was about to give—or else I might refuse again. I met Rhysand’s gaze. “Five days.” “You’re going to bargain?” Rhysand laughed under his breath. “Ten days.” I held his stare with all my strength. “A week.” Rhysand was silent for a long moment, his eyes traveling across my body and my face before he murmured: “A week it is.” “Then it’s a deal”

“Wait," I said as Noah slipped a book from a shelf and headed toward the door. "Where are you going?" "To read?" But I don't want you to. "But I need to go home," I said, my eyes meeting his. "My parents are going to kill me." "Taken care of. You're at Sophie's house." I loved Sophie. "So I'm...staying here?" "Daniel's covering for you." I loved Daniel. "Where's Katie?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "Eliza's house." I loved Eliza. "And your parents?" I asked. "Some charity thing." I loved charity. "So why are you going to read when I'm right here?”

“Wait," I said. He tilted his head in exasperation, clearly anticipating some sort of lecture. He went completely still when I strode up to him and kissed him. For one strange moment, I felt like laughing, because it was so clear that I had shocked him. I soon forgot about that, though, as well as everything else. I had not kissed him since Ljosland, and that barely counted; the first time, I had been so nervous that I barely touched him, while the second he had been in his other, oiche sidhe form. Perhaps it was the leaves rustling invisibly or the breeze that plucked at my hair, but I had the sense that I had left the mortal realm somehow, and that when I opened my eyes, I would find myself in some enchanted grove surrounded by faerie lights. This impression was so strong that I pulled away, dizzy.”