Etta Geisinsky > Etta's Quotes

“Oh, Remy, get off your high horse; everyone knows you have staked your claim on the new guy.”
― Hope Worthington, Shifting Moon: Shifting Moon Saga, Book 1

“Victor's tortured eyes blazed down at her, and for a moment she was afraid.  Then he leaned down and dissolved into tears in the arms of Celena who was only six.”
― Barbara Sontheimer, Victor's Blessing

“Light flashed in her eyes. In fact, it clung to her—flaring around her skin, her hair, her whole body. It was a trick of the eyes, his mind, when adrenaline hit his system. But she glowed. Vivid. Alive. And for a moment, he’d have given anything to be like her.”
― J. Rose Black, Losing My Breath

“Is it still a fish cart when there’s no fish in it? When its false bottom is filled with children?”
― Andri E. Elia, Borealis: A Worldmaker of Yand Novel

“You can’t set fires, Anna. Never again. Promise.”
[Anna] aimed her defiance at Mary.
“And you? What’s your reason to hate me?”
Caroline spoke quietly. “We nearly died — in the fire in those mountains and at the house when Ravi had a gun pointed at us.” Her eyes were full of tears. “The fire you set at The Old Hospital could have killed me as well as Janet and Agnes.”
Anna muttered into the syrupy dregs of her tea. “Fire, you’re firing me?”
Mary grimaced. There had been too much fire.”
― Susan Rowland, The Alchemy Fire Murder

“He was her fire, had always been from the start, his burning, radiant spirit, a beacon worthy of following.”
― Leslie K. Simmons, Red Clay, Running Waters

“Hestia sighed. ‘Stepping inside a mirror is like stepping into Pandora’s Box. It is a world of illusion and fragility. If the mirror is broken then so, too, will be whoever is inside the mirror at the time it is broken.”
― Frank Lambert, Xyz

“I walked past Malison, up Lower Main to Main and across the road. I didn’t need to look to know he was behind me. I entered Royal Wood, went a short way along a path and waited. It was cool and dim beneath the trees. When Malison entered the Wood, I continued eastward. 
I wanted to place his body in hallowed ground. He was born a Mearan. The least I could do was send him to Loric. The distance between us closed until he was on my heels. He chose to come, I told myself, as if that lessened the crime I planned. He chose what I have to offer.
We were almost to the cemetery before he asked where we were going. I answered with another question. “Do you like living in the High Lord’s kitchens?”
He, of course, replied, “No.”
“Well, we’re going to a better place.”
When we reached the edge of the Wood, I pushed aside a branch to see the Temple of Loric and Calec’s cottage. No smoke was coming from the chimney, and I assumed the old man was yet abed. His pony was grazing in the field of graves. The sun hid behind a bank of clouds.
Malison moved beside me. “It’s a graveyard.”
“Are you afraid of ghosts?” I asked.
“My father’s a ghost,” he whispered.
I asked if he wanted to learn how to throw a knife. He said, “Yes,” as I knew he would.  He untucked his shirt, withdrew the knife he had stolen and gave it to me. It was a thick-bladed, single-edged knife, better suited for dicing celery than slitting a young throat. But it would serve my purpose. That I also knew. I’d spent all night projecting how the morning would unfold and, except for indulging in the tea, it had happened as I had imagined. 
Damut kissed her son farewell. Malison followed me of his own free will. Without fear, he placed the instrument of his death into my hand. We were at the appointed place, at the appointed time. The stolen knife was warm from the heat of his body. I had only to use it. Yet I hesitated, and again prayed for Sythene to show me a different path.
“Aren’t you going to show me?” Malison prompted, as if to echo my prayer.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“They do not expect such misbehavior from me.”
― Rebecca Rosenberg, Madame Pommery, Creator of Brut Champagne

“I’m an atheist and I thank God for it.”
― George Bernard Shaw

“«Marley, piede!» ordinai. Non appena mossi il mio primo passo, decollò come un caccia da una portaerei. Trattenni forte il guinzaglio che gli provocò un orribile colpo di tosse mentre la catena gli serrava le vie respiratorie. Scattò indietro per un istante, ma non appena la catena si allentò, dimenticò il momentaneo senso di soffocamento, storia antica in quel piccolo compartimento del suo cervello dedicato alle lezioni di vita imparate. Si lanciò ancora in avanti.”
― John Grogan, Io & Marley

“I looked up in the sky and trusted in God.”
― Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

“stone. No, not a stone. It was smooth and regular—a circular”
― Richard Adams, Watership Down

“although”
― Tatiana de Rosnay, Sarah's Key

“expecting anything so fine and wonderful to be turning the corner upon me? I came near being found unworthy. Hard by," says he, "is a café, snug and suitable for the entertainment of idiosyncrasies. Let us go there and have drink while we discuss the unavailability of the categorical." So saying, he marched me and Tobin to the back room of a saloon, and ordered the drinks, and laid the money on the table. He looks at me and Tobin like brothers of his, and we have the segars.”
― O. Henry, O. Henry: Collected Works