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his head QUOTES

his head QUOTES

61 " He told himself a story. Not at first. At first, there wasn’t time for thoughts that came in the shape of words. His head was blessedly empty of stories then. War was coming. It was upon him. Arin had been born in the year of the god of death, and he was finally glad of it. He surrendered himself to his god, who smiled and came close. Stories will get you killed, he murmured in Arin’s ear. Now, you just listen. Listen to me. "

― Marie Rutkoski , The Winner's Kiss (The Winner's Trilogy, #3)

62 " To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he said.I placed my hands flat on the table and leaned across it. " Stay the hell away from him." " Who? Oh, you mean the guy who's gonna bite it soon?" " He's not. He's going to be fine." He reached a hand out and placed it over my own. I snatched my hand back. He shook his head at me and whispered, " You can't stop it." " Watch me. "

63 " Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. " The Boy Who Lived." None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting. Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his--Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear--He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone. "

64 " If you heard your lover scream in the next room
and you ran in and saw his pinkie on the floor, in a small puddle of blood.

You wouldn't rush to the pinkie and say,
'Darling, are you OK? '

No, you'd wrap your arms around his shoulders
and worry about the pinkie later.

The same holds true if you heard the scream,
ran in and saw his hand or -god forbid- his whole arm.

But suppose you hear your lover scream in the next room,
and you run in and his head is on the floor next to his body.

Which do you rush to and comfort first? "

― Jeffrey McDaniel

65 " It was almost a mystical experience. I do not know how else to put it. My mind outran time as he neared, and it was as though I had an eternity to ponder the approach of this man who was my brother. His garments were filthy, his face blackened, the stump of his right arm raised, gesturing anywhere. The great beast that he rode was striped, black and red, with a wild red mane and tail. But it really was a horse, and its eyes rolled and there was foam at its mouth and its breathing was painful to hear. I saw then that he wore his blade slung across his back, for its haft protruded high above his right shoulder. Still slowing, eyes fixed upon me, he departed the road, bearing slightly toward my left, jerked the reins once and released them, keeping control of the horse with his knees. His left hand went up in a salute-like movement that passed above his head and seized the hilt of his weapon. It came free without a sound, describing a beautiful arc above him and coming to rest in a lethal position out from his left shoulder and slanting back, like a single wing of dull steel with a minuscule line of edge that gleamed like a filament of mirror. The picture he presented was burned into my mind with a kind of magnificence, a certain splendor that was strangely moving. The blade was a long, scythe like affair that I had seen him use before. Only then we had stood as allies against a mutual foe I had begun to believe unbeatable. Benedict had proved otherwise that night. Now that I saw it raised against me I was overwhelmed with a sense of my own mortality, which I had never experienced before in this fashion. It was as though a layer had been stripped from the world and I had a sudden, full understanding of death itself. "

― Roger Zelazny , The Guns of Avalon (The Chronicles of Amber #2)

66 " The dead boy in his arms hung with his head back and those partly opened eyes beheld nothing at all out of that passing landscape of street or wall or paling sky or the figures of the children who stood blessing themselves in the gray light. This man and his burden passed on forever out of that nameless crossroads and the women stepped once more into the street and the children followed and all continued on to their appointed places which as some believe were chosen long ago even to the beginning of the world. "

― Cormac McCarthy

67 " Even now, I found it difficult to believe that my father could or might be dying. He had always been a strong man, a good leader. No one had ever seen him with his head bowed in despair or defeat, no one had ever seen him slump in resignation, nor had anyone ever had even so much as a hint from him that he might ever give up. It was hard to picture all that strength drained from my father’s body. "

68 " [Jesus] tilted His head back, pulled up one last time to draw breath and cried, " Tetelestai!" It was a Greek expression most everyone present would have understood. It was an accounting term. Archaeologists have found papyrus tax receipts with " Tetelestai" written across them, meaning " paid in full." With Jesus' last breath on the cross, He declared the debt of sin cancelled, completely satisfied. Nothing else required. Not good deeds. Not generous donations. Not penance or confession or baptism or...or...or...nothing. The penalty for sin is death, and we were all born hopelessly in debt. He paid our debt in full by giving His life so that we might live forever. "

69 " I’ve been lumbered with this great lug of dog through a friend of a friend for a couple of months and he has some ...behavioural problems I need to manage ASAP.”

“Really?” Her gaze switched to Tiny who wagged his tail looking completely angelic. Ryder could have sworn the damn mutt was smiling. “Look at you, you gorgeous boy,” she crooned, unlatching a section of the counter, lifting it up and ducking through it to join him on the other side.

Tiny wagged his tail harder as Juliet approached, one hand held out in friendly greeting. Tiny, whose head came to her breasts, took full advantage, nosing her right in the cleavage as the woman slid her hands on either side of his face and cooed at him. “You are adorable, aren’t you?”

Tiny licked, actually licked, her cleavage then shot a shit eating grin in Ryder’s direction. If the dog had eyebrows, one of them would be arrogantly cocked. Ryder blinked. The damn animal had more game than him.

“Are you sure?” She leaned forward to drop some kisses between Tiny’s eyes, pushing his snout even further into the cushioned heaven between her breasts. “He seems very placid.”

Tiny’s gave an ecstatic little shiver, his tail a blur as it dusted the floor. “Trust me. He’s the antichrist.”

“Oh I don’t believe that,” she said to Tiny, her voice light and teasing, her mouth a cute little moue. “Look how sweet and well behaved he is. Good boy.” She kissed him again. “Good boy.”

Ryder would be sweet and well behaved if Juliet called him a good boy while cradling his head between her breasts.

Hell, he’d roll over and play dead if she wanted. "

― Amy Andrews , Playing With Forever (Sydney Smoke Rugby, #4)

70 " Tiny.” Juliet’s firm voice brought the dog to an abrupt halt much to Ryder’s immense relief. “Sit.”
The damn dog sat and Ryder threw a dark look in Tiny’s direction until he realised the dog’s head was level with Juliet’s chest. No wonder he’d been so eager to obey.
The dog wasn’t a flirt. He was a pervert.
“Good puppy,” she crooned, cradling his head again, squishing his jowls, Tiny’s wet nose smooshed into her breasts.
Fucks sake! The dog was getting more action than he was. "

― Amy Andrews , Playing With Forever (Sydney Smoke Rugby, #4)

71 " He was so pumped, jumping up and down on the spot, showing off the taut lean muscles in his quads and calves so different to the bulkiness of a lot of the other players. He bristled with energy, shaking out his arms, flicking his fingers.
Flicking off invisible globules of testosterone so powerful she could feel their pull all the way up here.
He dropped his head from side to side to work his traps, bending at the waist right in front of the box to execute a perfect hamstring stretch.
Ooh la freaking la. "

― Amy Andrews , Playing With Forever (Sydney Smoke Rugby, #4)

72 " This what you want, huh?” He pulled her hips off the wall with his spare hand to fit snug against his body. “Me using you like this?” His head lowered to her other breast, replacing the pinching with suction, soothing the stinging tip as his fingers tortured the other.
Yes. This. Them using each other. That was what she wanted. What the hell was wrong with that?
The irrational anger she’d felt in the car boiled up in her again. “Fuck you,” she panted, grounding her head and shoulder blades against the wall as her left hand ploughed into his hair and she twisted her fingers hard.
He didn’t even flinch and that just made her madder. "

― Amy Andrews , Playing With Forever (Sydney Smoke Rugby, #4)

73 " The difference between the poet and the mathematician is that the poet tries to get his head into the heavens while the mathematician tries to get the heavens into his head. "

― G.K. Chesterton

74 " The young student sits with his head bent over his books, and his mind straying in youth's dreamland; where prose is prowling on the desk and poetry hiding in the heart. "

― Rabindranath Tagore , Lover's Gift

75 " When a poet settled down to write a poem, could he foresee the lines he would write? Did his head constantly spin with riddles and rhymes and was his only job to put them down? What if he couldn’t get them to make sense, and no one, not even the person he cared for most, could have pleasure in reading it? What would he do? "

― Alysha Speer , Sharden (Body of Blades #1)

76 " [Poetry] was a form of incantation, a means of welding the world inside his head to the one that surrounded him, words the fiery chain that bound it all together. "

― Elizabeth Hand , Radiant Days

77 " Levi," Maria called. " Come back. We're not finished yet." He paused" What, Maria?" " You asked me what I believe in? I believed in you." He nodded his head sadly. " Yes, you did. And before you met me, you believed in nothing. But that's the thing with belief, Maria. It's easy to believe in something when it doesn't require anything from you. It's much harder, though, when the object of your belief requires something of you or asks for something you don't want to give. That's when real belief occurs. "

78 " Lucas couldn’t have imagined that he would have ever felt so alone. No family, no friends. Even his own village had turned against him. He peered into the icy water; it looked like it was about to freeze over. Maybe I should drown myself before I freeze to death? he pondered. Was there no one to help? He instinctively bowed his head and prayed. A warm feeling engulfed his battered body. “I’m not alone, I will never be alone. God is with me,” he blubbered. "

― , The Edelweiss Express (Edelweiss Pirates #2)

79 " She doesn't quite chop his head off.
She makes a Pez dispenser out of him. "

― Frank Miller , Sin City, Vol. 3: The Big Fat Kill (Sin City, #3)

80 " Q: Where and when do you do your writing? A: Any small room with no natural light will do. As for when, I have no particular schedules... afternoons are best, but I'm too lethargic for any real regime. When I'm in the flow of something I can do a regular 9 to 5; when I don't know where I'm going with an idea, I'm lucky if I do two hours of productive work. There is nothing more off-putting to a would-be novelist to hear about how so-and-so wakes up at four in the a.m, walks the dog, drinks three liters of black coffee and then writes 3,000 words a day, or that some other asshole only works half an hour every two weeks, does fifty press-ups and stands on his head before and after the " creative moment." I remember reading that kind of stuff in profiles like this and becoming convinced everything I was doing was wrong. What's the American phrase? If it ain't broke... "