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Y Quotes

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All Y Quotes

“You did something once — you know it. O Ralph, you've been everything! What have I done for you — what can I do to-day? I would die if you could live. But I don't wish you to live; I would die myself, not to lose you." Her voice was as broken as his own and full of tears and anguish. "You won't lose me — you'll keep me. Keep me in your heart; I shall be nearer to you than I've ever been.”

“You did this on purpose." For the first time, he saw the flash of anger in her blue eyes. "Of course. Did you really think I would meekly wear the clothing you had procured for me, as if I were some light-o'-love you rented for the month?" Lady Gertrude gasped and covered her mouth. Gradually, her shocked expression changed, and her eyes began to twinkle. Then the truth was borne in on him. He had lost. It was a small battle, unimportant among his schemes, but he lost so seldom he could scarcely comprehend it. He had lost. Lost to this quiet, diffident, stubborn duchess. Very well. He would remember, and in the future, he would fine-tune his tactics and never underestimate her again. "I would never make the mistake of thinking you a light-o'-love, Your Grace. I would more likely think you a chess master." She inclined her head, accepting his tribute as a matter of course.”

“You did this to him." Her anger was a blazing inferno, but her voice was cold, unfeeling. I'd never heard that tone from her. "If it makes you feel better, I was aiming for you." His low drawl didn't hide the fear I sensed coming from him. He'd realized the same thing I had-the true threat wasn't him and it certainly wasn't me. There was something far worse in these woods tonight. And I was wholly captivated. I kept my attention on Lore, sensing a chasm splitting inside her, growing wider the longer her anger simmered without an outlet. She was a geyser ready to blow. I released a small hiss as the next wave of ice moved through my veins. Lore didn't miss the barely audible sound, as if she was now attuned to the slightest shift in me. Her gaze darkened, like a shadow passing over the sun. "You shouldn't have missed.”

“You did what you needed to do to survive. I hope you truly believe that.' Casteel didn't answer, and when I looked over at him and saw the vast emptiness in his expression, my heart ached. Because I knew. I knew he didn't. And all I wanted was to bring warmth back to him. 'I still want to stab you.' His head shot in my direction. 'Just not as frequently,' I amended.' One side of his lips curled up, and then he laughed. The sound was rough and a little hoarse, but it was real. 'I would be disappointed if you didn't.' I looked forward, smiling. 'That is such a weird statement.' 'What can I say? I have a thing for women with violent tendencies.' 'That doesn't sound any better,' ...”

“You did what you were told or you didn't get paid, and if things went wrong it wasn't your problem. It was the fault of whatever idiot has accepted this message for sending in the first place. No one cared about you, and everyone at headquarters was an idiot. It wasn't your fault, no one listened to you. Headquarters had even started an Employee of the Month scheme to show how much they cared. That was how much they didn't care.”

“You did your best to be a good student. You chopped and cooked and measured and served according to her wishes. But sometimes you wondered if the stall could stand to be upgraded with modern comfort food. With pandan ensaymada instead of the increasingly popular but also growingly common ube, the fresh bread from the oven and the cheese still melting, sweetly fragrant from the infusion of those steeped leaves and as simple as a summer morning. Or chopped watermelons in bulalo soup to replace tomatoes, for that extra tang. Or even pork adobo, but with chili and sweet pineapples. You had so many ideas.”

“You didn't even know of my existence a month ago." "But I did. I've known your existence for over eight years, ever since my man of business returned to Boston from England and told me that the duke of Magnus had been blessed with a daughter. A most beautiful daughter." He placed the book back on the shelf, and he didn't need the stool. "My man of business did not exaggerate." Disconcerted, Eleanor said, "Well... thank you." Although he was speaking of Madeline, he was looking at her. She knew, without conceit, that she was attractive. One less-than-honorable Englishman, who'd seen the opportunity to seduce a pretty girl, had told her she was more handsome than her cousin. But when Mr. Knight gazed at her, that tiny flame his touch had ignited spread though her veins. That flame, and the attendant warmth, were bad things. Very bad things.”

“You didn’t give us much choice.” Mitchell glared at her. “But once I saw your little Deathstar routine... Let’s just say I understood why.” “Told you I had a plan,” Marley beamed. “That’s the reference you get?” Reyna sighed as she dodged another attack. “Its Star Wars,” Marley shrugged. “Who doesn’t get Star Wars?” “She has a point,” Armie half-grinned as he darted away from a serpent’s mouth on his Skyboard. “Who doesn’t get Harry Potter?” Reyna asked, irritated. “So, does she,” Armie chuckled nervously. “Someone’s whipped.” Marley raised her eyebrow, bemused. “Nice to know some things never change.” “Apparently,” Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Now, if we could take a break from today’s installment of ‘The Teens Of Our Lives’ —”

“You didn't have to go back far to recall a culture that said: Yes, we like a drink at lunchtime. The political culture, he meant—Peter Judd was well aware that the culture in general was chucking booze down its neck like a mental hobo. But the political culture, meaning Westminster, had cleaned up its act since the millennium, a shift in which Judd himself had played no small part. A public disavowal of some of the more famous extravagances of his youth had, near as damn it, established a party line, or at least had drawn a line across which his party didnt dare tread... Once the House's reputation for being more or less sober during daylight hours had been salvaged, and his own status as architect of the "New Responsibility" (copyright, some broadsheet reptile) safely established, Judd was happy to revert to drinking at lunchtime when he felt like it.”