105
" Oh, but my netherling side did, and she casts my human armor aside.
She guides my hands, knots my fingers through his hair, teases his tongue with hers. She won’t let me pull away, because she wants to be there again. In Wonderland, where his tobacco-flavored kisses always take us . . .
Because the things I loathe are the things she adores: His snark, his infuriating condescension. His menacing mastery of half-truths and riddles. The way he shoves me into the face of danger, forces me to look beyond my fears and reach for my full potential.
Most of all, because he encourages me to believe in the madness ...in her . . . the darker side of myself: the queen who was born to reign over the Red kingdom and to give Wonderland a legacy of dreams and imagination.
His gloved palms seek the bend of my waist, the bow of my hips. He moves me on top of him, so close there’s not enough space for a blade of grass between us. His kisses grow insistent, desperate. His flavor winds through me, fruit and smoke and earth, and other things born of shadows and storms . . . things I can’t put a name to. "
― A.G. Howard , Ensnared (Splintered, #3)
107
" Stately and commanding, the house I found on Sacramento Street, in Lower Pacific Heights, was an architectural jewel; tour buses drove down the street several times a day and the guides pointed out our Victorian “painted lady” not just for its curb appeal but also for its lucky survival of the earthquake. Meticulously renovated, the house had a layout that I was sure would work perfectly: a three-room suite on the lower level with a bathroom and laundry room for my mother, living space on the next level, and, on the top floor, bedrooms for Zoë and me. The master bedroom was large enough to double as my office. Moreover, it seemed symbolic that we should find a three-story nineteenth-century Victorian, whose original intention was to house multiple generations. My mother couldn’t have been more pleased. She started calling our experiment “our year in Provence.” In the face of naysayers, I chose to embrace the reaction of a friend who was living in Beijing: “How Chinese of you!” she said upon hearing the news. When I told my mother, she was delighted. “What have the Chinese got on us?” she declared. And I agreed. The Chinese revere their elderly. If they could live happily with multiple generations under one roof, so could we. "
117
" SHE holds the hand to help you in your First Step,
She is your First Teacher,
SHE holds your hand when You Fall Down,
SHE is the one who guides you in Life,
SHE hides you from all Trouble,
SHE is sometime Mentor,
SHE even nurses you when you Fall ill,
SHE gives you the confidence,
SHE never give False Appreciation,
SHE is the one who will scold you the most on your mistake,
She is the one who even Fight for you when you are right,
SHE is the one who believes in you when others do not,
SHE is the one who Loves you even if You don't love her,
SHE is the one who gave you LIFE,
Do You know Who is 'SHE'??
'SHE' is Mother your own MOM... "
― Debolina Bhawal