Syrie James Quotes

It is an interesting concept, is it not- the idea of never aging? Would it appeal to you, to be rich, beautiful, and eternally young?"
"I think everyone has a desire for perennial youth," I admitted, "but in the end, this is a Faustian, cautionary tale, about vanity and frivolity, and the dangers of trying to interfere with the basic laws of life and death. When I really think about it, I would not wish to be young for ever."
"No? And why not?"
"Because I would be obliged to watch everyone I loved grow old and die."
"What if that were not the case? What if there was one person whom you loved deeply, with whom you could live on for ever, under the same terms?"
I hesitated, then said: "Perhaps then it would prove agreeable, as long it did not involve selling my soul to the Devil.

Do not be sorry. Death is a part of life. It is nothing to regret and nothing to fear.

Austen's works have endured because she had a superb narrative technique and a gift for creating characters who feel as real as life itself. She didn't just write about romance. She observed subjects and social and emotional struggles that are struggles that are still very relevant today. She could pull at your heartstrings, but she could also make you laugh and cry. At the end of her books, if you're paying attention, you come away feeling a little wiser about yourself and what's important in life.

Who knows where the road may take us

The feel of her body against his was exhilarating, driving all rational thought from his head. "All right, prepare
yourself, Claire Brennan."
She looked up at him curiously. "Prepare myself for
what?"
He gazed at her affectionately. "Repeat your mantra, or
whatever it is you do. Because I'm about to kiss you.

Drink," he said.
I pressed my mouth to the wound, first lapping up the blood as it flowed out, and then sucking deeply from it. I had only tasted blood a few times before, when I had sucked on an injured fingertip. The blood I now imbibed was nothing like the mild, slightly salty liquid that ran in my own veins. Dracula's blood was delicious. It tasted like a deep, rich, full-bodied wine, with a dark, delectable tang. It was ambrosia; I felt as if I could not get enough of it. As I drank, I heard him give an ecstatic little moan. His hand cradled the back of my head and held it there, urging me to continue, while his other hand found and clasped both my hands lovingly in his.

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I was fortunate to attend a school with an excellent library

A line from The Picture of Dorian Gray kept running through my head- a line which, I thought, might have been written by the Devil himself:

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.
Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.

Some of the most thrilling things in life are done on impulse.

No! You have hope! You have motive! Labour must be the cure, not sympathy! Labour is the only radical cure for rooted sorrow!

To love, to be loved, and to be useful: these are the most important elements in a happy, meaningful life, and they can be achieved anywhere.

I believe there is a kind of happiness to be found in every thing in life, in all that is good and pleasing, as well as in that which is sad or poignant.

He never spoke a word; yet my entire body was aflame. With shameful joy in my heart, I trembled as I moved against his hands, seeking more of the delicious rapture he was giving me. He played me like a stringed instrument, awakening within me a harmony that I had never known existed, producing profound and unimagined tunes.
When I felt him enter me I clung to him, pressing him ever closer, our two bodies fused as one. As he moved with me towards the brink of ecstasy, I was overwhelmed by an intense need that until that moment had never been recognized. All at once, just as I heard his own fevered exclamation, I felt the core of my womanhood explode with pleasure, as if my body had splintered into a thousand brilliant fragments of sensation and light.

It was the doubt that knocked me over, Mina: the terrible doubt as to the reality of the whole thing. I felt impotent and in the dark. I did not know who or what to trust, not even the evidence of my own senses. So I tried to put it behind me and throw myself into my work, into what had hitherto been the groove of my life. But the groove no longer availed me, for I now mistrusted myself.

I adore a little summer shower, said I, with a deep, appreciative intake of the damp, salty air. It makes the world smell fresh and new.

One can become proficient at most anything, I find, with a modicum of aptitude and an eternity to indulge it.