the neck QUOTES

22 " 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)

24 " When they explore opportunity cost of black blood I hear ancient corridors survived on the neck of ancient souls Satellite empires, the oversight dark forces "

26 " Children, our lives have been gongs striking; clamour and boasting; cries of despair; blows on the nape of the neck in gardens. "

― Virginia Woolf , The Waves

28 " The history of the Bible is one of perpetual revolution. In that light, we might begin to think about the Bible not so much as a fixed thing but as a dynamic, vital tradition. In light of its history, the Bible looks less like a rock than a river, continually flowing and changing, widening and narrowing, as it moves downstream.

For some, thinking about the Bible as a river and not a rock is liberating. That rock has been a millstone around the neck and a tombstone that won’t be rolled away. But for others, seeing it this way can be disorienting. That rock has promised solid foundation in a stormy world. Cling to it or be swept away. "

― Timothy Beal , The Rise and Fall of the Bible: The Unexpected History of an Accidental Book

30 " Or why should one refrain from burning hatred, whatever its basis--race, class, or ideology? Such hatred is in fact corroding many hearts today. Atheist teachers in the West are bringing up a younger generation in a spirit of hatred of their own society. Amid all the vituperation we forget that the defects of capitalism represent the basic flaws of human nature, allowed unlimited freedom together with the various human rights; we forget that under Communism (and Communism is breathing down the neck of all moderate forms of socialism, which are unstable) the identical flaws run riot in any person with the least degree of authority; while everyone else under that system does indeed attain 'equality'--the equality of destitute slaves. This eager fanning of the flames of hatred is becoming the mark of today's free world. Indeed, the broader the personal freedoms are, the higher the level of prosperity or even of abundance--the more vehement, paradoxically, does this blind hatred become. The contemporary developed West thus demonstrates by its own example that human salvation can be found neither in the profusion of material goods nor in merely making money. "

― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn