the liquid QUOTES

1 " Fortune-teller tea. Give it a sip!" The liquid was pink and smelled of strawberries, but when Maddie drank it, the flavor was deep and a little bitter, followed by a sudden burst of sweetness.Her father returned. " Well?" he asked." It started out as black licorice and then melted into butterscotch," she said." Oh, my girl, the tea is telling you that this is the year to keep your ear to the ground and listen for surprises. Change is coming!" Maddie's stomach was full of thoughts and her head full of butterflies. She checked her watch again. She couldn't wait for it all to begin. "

2 " Transcendence is before you should you choose to take a swim.Into your deep blue you dive and all that is within.Referred to as my subconscious so you may understand me clear.But there’s nothing very simple about the message I’m sending here.The colour of your blood, the liquid through your veins, is really just a pathway to the place that feels your pains.The heart is an ocean but within it there’s a sun, submerged beneath the ocean, and all that is but one. "

3 " Billos ran. He tore down the shore, bounded up on the rock, and dove into the air. The warm water engulfed him. A boiling heat knocked the wind from his lungs. The shock alone might kill him. But it was pleasure that surged through his body, not pain. The sensations coursed through his bones in great unrelenting waves. Elyon. How he was certain, he did not know. But he knew. Elyon was in this lake with him. Billos opened his eyes. Gold light drifted by. He lost all sense of direction. The water pressed in on every inch of his body, as intense as any acid, but one that burned with pleasure instead of pain. He sank into the water, opened his mouth and laughed. He wanted more, much more. He wanted to suck the water in and drink it. Without thinking, he did just that. The liquid hit his lungs. Billos pulled up, panicked. He tried to hack the water from his lungs, but inhaled more instead. No pain. He carefully sucked more water and breathed it out slowly. Then again, deep and hard. Out with a soft whoosh. He was breathing the water! Billos shrieked with laughter. He swam into the lake, deeper and deeper. The power contained in this lake was far greater than anything he'd ever imagined. " I made this, Billos." Billos whipped his body around, searching for the words' source. " Elyon?" His voice was muffled, hardly a voice at all. " Do you like it?" " Yes!" Billos said. He might have spoken; he might have shouted--he didn't know. He only knew that his whole body screamed it. Billos looked around. " Elyon?" " Why do you doubt me, Billos?" In that single moment the full weight of Billos's foolishness crashed on him like a sledgehammer. " I see you, Billos." " I made you." " I love you." The words crashed over him, reaching into the deepest folds of his flesh, caressing each hidden synapse, flowing through every vein, as though he had been given a transfusion. " I choose you, Billos." Billos began to weep. The feeling was more intense than any pain he had ever felt. The current pulled at him, tugging him up through the colors. His body trembled with pleasure. He wanted to speak, to yell, to tell the whole world that he was the most fortunate person in the universe. That he was loved by Elyon. Elyon himself. " Never leave me, Billos." " Never! I will never leave you." The current pushed him through the water and then above the surface not ten meters from the shore. He stood on the sandy bottom. For a moment he had such clarity of mind that he was sure he could understand the very fabric of space if he put his mind to it. He was chosen. He was loved. "

4 " It seems a peculiar thing when I go to fill my own cup; it remains empty as if the liquid evaporates as soon as it touches the glass. Yet when I reach to top off the cups of others, my own spills over. This is the crazy magic of charity. "

― Richelle E. Goodrich , Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year

5 " He poured a splash of liquid into a second cup. “Come in and warm yerself by the fire.”
Ariana walked deeper into the room, toward the glow of the hearth. It’s heat enveloped her skin and eased away the chill with such expediency, she almost sighed.
Connor appeared beside her with a metal cup extended. “I canna sleep often myself.”
She closed her fingers around the cool surface and glanced at the dark liquid within. A sharp scent hit her nostrils.
“Whisky,” Connor said.
He was perfection in the firelight. Shadows etched his jaw while the light softened his face, his lips. The powerful lines of his chest were visible at the neck of his leine, as well as a dark peppering of small curling black hairs.
“Whisky,” Ariana said with a forced stare at the cup instead of him. “Of course. I drink this all the time.”
“Aye, I knew that about ye. When I first saw ye, I thought, ‘Now there’s a lass who can handle her whisky.’” Connor winked at her with disarming playfulness. “It’ll do ye some good. Take off the chill and settle yer thoughts.”
“Why do you assume my thoughts are unsettled?” she asked.
He took a swallow from his cup. “Because sleep comes easily to those without weight on their minds.”
Ariana took a careful sip from her own cup, the way she’d seen men at the card tables drink. The liquid burned like sin down her throat and caught in her chest.
She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard several times to keep from sputtering.
Though she’d hoped to keep her reaction discreet, the grin on Connor’s face told her he saw through her guise.
“It’s good.” Her voice came out in a croak and Connor laughed. It was a warm, rich sound and she found it terribly pleasing.
His eyes crinkled. “Now that we’ve discovered yer love of whisky, why dinna ye tell me what’s got yer thoughts heavy? "

― Madeline Martin , Highland Spy (The Mercenary Maidens, #1)

6 " What better way to lose that hangover headache than get drunk again? Oh, the joys of being Canadian with socialized health care and legal drinking age of nineteen. After a year (officially) honing that skill, I imbibed at an Olympic level. The red wine on the modular coffee table gleamed in a shaft of sunlight like its position had been ordained by the gods. I snatched up the crystal decanter, sloshing the liquid into the glass conveniently placed next to it. Once in a while, a girl could actually catch a break. I fanned myself with one hand. The myriad of lit candles seemed a bit much for Ari’s romantic encounter, but wine drinking trumped curiosity so I chugged the booze back. My entire body cheered as the cloyingly-sweet alcohol hit my system, though I hoped it wasn’t Manischewitz because hangovers on that were a bitch. I’d slugged back half the contents when I saw my mom on the far side of the room clutch her throat, eyes wide with horror. Not her usual, “you need an intervention” horror. No, her expression indicated I’d reached a whole new level of fuck-up. “Nava Liron Katz,” she gasped in full name outrage. "

― Deborah Wilde , The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)

7 " Some people see the liquid and thing half full. Others only see the air and think half empty. Sometimes I get the sense Chatham sees it all, which is kind of terrifying. I don't know if I want him to see me--the real me. "

8 " He was silent a moment; then he said, " I want a drink of water." She almost laughed aloud, because it was such a mundane request that could have been made of anyone, but then she saw the tension in his jaw and lips and realized that, again, he was checking out his condition, and he wanted her with him. She turned to the small Styrofoam pitcher that was kept full of crushed ice, which she used to keep his lips moist. The ice had melted enough that she was able to pour the glass half full of water. She stuck a straw into it and held it to his lips. Gingerly he sucked the liquid into his mouth and held it for a moment, as if letting it soak into his membranes. Then, slowly, he swallowed, and after a minute he relaxed. " Thank God," he muttered hoarsely. " My throat still feel swollen. I wasn't sure I could swallow, and I sure as hell didn't want that damned tube back." Behind Jay, Frank turned a smothered laugh into a cough. " Anything else?" she asked. " Yes. Kiss me. "

9 " The rigidity of a bottle's form does not affect the fluidity of the liquid it contains. "

10 " Her nausea increased, the dialect had become unfamiliar, the way our wet throats bathed the words in the liquid of saliva was intolerable. A sense of repulsion had invested all the bodies in movement, their bone structure, the frenzy that shook them. How poorly made we are, she thought, how insufficient. The broad shoulders, the arms, the legs, the ears, noses, eyes, seemed to her attributes of monstrous beings who had fallen from some corner of the black sky. "

― Elena Ferrante , My Brilliant Friend (The Neapolitan Novels #1)

11 " Horst passed him a bottle he had picked up in his rapid trip from there to here. Remarkably, it's contents had survived the transit. " Drink this," he said, unmoved by Cabal's anger. " You need to save your voice for your next session." Cabal took the bottle testily and swigged from it. there was a moments pause, just long enough for Cabal's expression to change from testy to horrified revulsion. He spat the liquid violently onto the grass like a man who has got absent-minded with the concentrated nitric acid and a mouth pipette. He glared at Horst as he took off his spectacles and wiped his suddenly weeping eyes " Disinfectant? You give me disinfectant to drink?" Horst's surprise was replaced with mild amusement. " It's root beer, Johannes. Have you never had root beer?" Cabal looked suspiciously at him, then at the bottle " People drink this?" " Yes." " For non-medical reasons?" " That's right." Cabal shook his head in open disbelief. " They must be insane. "

12 " CONFLICT is the unhealthy fruit from the tree of MISUNDERSTANDINGwhich was once a seed of INSECURITIES thatsprout from the isolation of MIND,sipping slowly the liquid of PRIDE... "