Archangel S Blade Quotes

Some women," Dahariel said in that same hard tone devoid of any hint of humanity, "get
under a man's skin until digging them out makes you bleed. ~ Nalini Singh

Fine. But remember, little rabbit, not a word to anyone." He moved close enough that the dark heat of him lapped against her in a quiet threat that made her glad for the blade. "I'm not a nice man when I'm angry."
She held her position, a ragged attempt to erase the humiliation of the panic attack. "I'm fairly certain you're not a nice man at all."
His answer was a slow smile that whispered of silk sheets, erotic whispers, and sweat-damp skin. The unhidden intent of it had her heart slamming hard against her ribs. "No" she said. Voice raw.
"A challenge." He wasn't touching her and yet she felt caressed by a thousand ropes of fur, soft and lush and unmistakably sexual. "I accept ~ Nalini Singh

You're back," Sam said, as if he couldn't quite believe it.
She lifted her chin, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Obviously."
He tilted his head slightly to the side. "How was the desert?"
There wasn't a scratch on him. Of course, her face had healed too but ... "Hot," she said. Sam let out a breathy chuckle. ~ Sarah J. Maas

This time she is the one who leans forward. She is on her knees in front of him, grasping his shirt collar, pulling him close to her. He is clearly as startled by this as she herself is, but he allows himself to be drawn in. Their mouths meet, she moves even closer still until she is sitting on his lap takes his hands from her waist and puts them on her breasts, does everything but devour him, desperate to see if she can have something beyond her bondage with the razor.

Pictures of the accident start writhing beneath her closed lids, competing for attention with the image she holds of his face. A tidal wave of emotion threatens to engulf her. She is suddenly back in the basement with the bookcases. "I can't." Willow pushes him away. "I can't"

Willow claps her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to drown out the dreadful sounds of the accident. She jumps up, wheels away from him, fumbles in her pocket for the razor that she always keeps there. But just as she's preparing to slice, to save herself, to end the nightmare visions, Guy's hand clamps down on hers He pulls her down on the floor again roughly.

"No." He's shaking his head. "Not here. Not now. Not with me around."

"I have to." Willow is gasping. "Just let me do it!"

"All right then, you can cut yourself, but not like this, not like some concerned animal. You have to do it in front of me."

Willow doesn't flinch as she presses the blade into her flesh. S ~ Julia Hoban

He pushed his way between them with his burly frame and forced her to stand in the cold with him. He flipped the long, silver dagger so its worn handle faced her. "Take your claw, pup," he growled.
This was called White Fang, a blade almost as legendary as the hunter who owned it. It has been long told in the village that as a youth, Wolfsbane had destroyed an entire pack on his own, thus earning his name. ~ Jennifer Silverwood

The tension has worn us out. It is a deadly tension that feels as if a jagged knife blade is being scraped along the spine. Our legs won't function, our hands are trembling and our bodies are like thin membranes stretched over barely repressed madness, holding in what would otherwise be an unrestrained outburst of endless scream.s. We have no flesh, no muscle now ~ Erich Maria Remarque

I am the blade that is swung by your hand,
Slicing a rainbow's arc,
I am the clapper, but you are the bell,
Tolling the gathering dark.
If you are the singer, then I am the song,
A threnody, requiem, dirge.
You've mad me the answer for all the world's need,
Humanity's undying urge ~ Neal Shusterman

I can wait," he said thickly, kissing her collarbone. "We have all the time in the world. ~ Sarah J. Maas

The girl who'd taken on a Pirate Lord and his entire island, the girl who'd stolen Asterion horses and raced along the beach in the Red Desert, the girl who'd sat on her own rooftop, watching the sun rise over Avery, the girl who'd felt alive with possibility ... that girl was gone. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Sam," she said.
"I'm trying!"
"Sam," she repeated.
"No," he spat, hearing her tone. "No!"
He began screaming for help then. Celaena pressed her face to one of the holes in the grate. Help wasn't going to come-not fast enough.
"Please," Sam begged as he beat and yanked on the grate, he tried to wedge another dagger under the lid. "Please don't."
She knew he wasn't speaking to her.
The water hit her neck.
"Please," Sam moaned, his fingers now touching hers. She'd have one last breath. Her last words.
"Take my body home to Terrasen, Sam," she whispered. And with a gasping breath, she went under. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Embracing Sam was different, somehow. Like she wanted to curl into his warmth, like for one moment, she didn't have to worry about anything or anybody. ~ Sarah J. Maas

She released her weapon with one hand, twisted around, and kissed him. It was the deepest she had ever kissed him. Blood filled his face, and he went limp at the touch of her lips. Namine took the moment of dropped defense to put Zarrys flat on his back with a long blade at his throat before he even knew what was happening. As he looked up the long shaft to her smiling face, he gave an embarrassed chuckle. Fallon and Kirah were laughing behind her.
"Me," Namine said proudly. Then she withdrew the weapon and helped Zarrys back to his feet.
Cheeks burning, Zarrys returned his sword to its sheath. "That's cheating. ~ S.R. Ford

A memory stabbed him, as sharp as a blade. He'd floated alone in an escape pod over Ryloth once, spinning high over its surface, after crashing a cruiser into a droid control ship. Another name bobbed up and broke the surface of the sea of memory. Ahsoka. He'd called her "Snips" sometimes. He pushed the errant recollection aside and focused on his task. ~ Paul S. Kemp

Like truth, a sword can be used for good or evil, to protect or harm. The only difference between a Jedi's lightsaber and that of a Sith is the blade color. ~ Kevin S. Decker

It is as hard to explain how this sunlit land was different from the old Narnia as it would be to tell you how the fruits of that country taste. Perhaps you will get some idea of it if you think like this. You may have been in a room in which there was a window that looked out on a lovely bay of the sea or a green valley that wound away among mountains. And in the wall of that room opposite to the window there may have been a looking-glass. And as you turned away from the window you suddenly caught sight of that sea or that valley, all over again, in the looking glass. And the sea in the mirror, or the valley in the mirror, were in one sense just the same as the real ones: yet at the same time they were somehow different - deeper, more wonderful, more like places in a story: in a story you have never heard but very much want to know. The difference between the old Narnia and the new Narnia was like that. The new one was a deeper country: every rock and flower and blade of grass looked as if it meant more. ~ C.S. Lewis

I was about to add it was as likely a friendship as Lucifer and the Archangel Michael sharing a jug of ale, but I stopped myself. [Vincent] ~ Karen Maitland

I am the Mother's blade, the Mother's wrath ... You have poisoned her, raped her and her children. Left her to die. Now you will suffer, you will die. ~ R.S. Belcher

I am a product [ ... of] endless books. My father bought all the books he read and never got rid of any of them. There were books in the study, books in the drawing room, books in the cloakroom, books (two deep) in the great bookcase on the landing, books in a bedroom, books piled as high as my shoulder in the cistern attic, books of all kinds reflecting every transient stage of my parents' interest, books readable and unreadable, books suitable for a child and books most emphatically not. Nothing was forbidden me. In the seemingly endless rainy afternoons I took volume after volume from the shelves. I had always the same certainty of finding a book that was new to me as a man who walks into a field has of finding a new blade of grass. ~ C.S. Lewis

You are my heiress now. --Malaxia
I am not a witch! --Liana
St. Michel the Archangel, get down here. --Jettaret
I have wept for the living and the dead.
What good did it do them? --Alberge ~ Wendy Joseph

The Coming of the Lord 13But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, g that you may not grieve as others do h who have no hope. 14For i since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him j those who have fallen asleep. 15For this we declare to you k by a word from the Lord, [4] that l we who are alive, who are left until m the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16For n the Lord himself will descend o from heaven p with a cry of command, with the voice of q an archangel, and r with the sound of the trumpet of God. And s the dead in Christ will rise first. 17Then we who are alive, who are left, will be t caught up together with them u in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so v we will always be with the Lord. 18Therefore encourage one another with these words. ~ Anonymous

For a moment she didn't understand what he wanted, then she drew the dagger he'd made for her and gave it to him
Arin looked it over
surprised, pleased. "You take good care of it."
She took it back. "Of course I do." Her voice was rough and wrong.
He peered at her. Friendly, he said, "Yes, of course. Is there a saying for it? 'A Valorian always polishes her blade.' Something like that."
"I take care of it," she said, suddenly both miserable and angry, "because you made it for me. ~ Marie Rutkoski

Any do-gooder can save one life or a dozen by spending x dollars, but that doesn't demonstrate anything unless you've got x dollars multiplied by the total number of lives that need saving. Stopping poverty one victim at a time is like mowing a lawn one blade at a time. The problem grows faster than the cure can be applied, the only people who profit are the agencies who claim to be cutting grass while they're actually applying fertilizer. ~ Sheri S. Tepper

Then this is for you," Galahad said, and drew a knife from the pouch at his belt. It was an odd little thing, T-hilted and small enough to fit into a woman's hand. Its translucent blade, only an inch and a half long, was bound with scrolling bronze wire to the bone hilt. "Have a care. Obsidian is sharper than anything else in the world, sharp enough to make sunlight bleed. ~ Suzannah Rowntree

My name is Sam Cortland... and I will not be afraid. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Mia stood between the bed and the broken window, holding an active plasma blade at waist-height in front of her. A thick coat of blood stained the plasma nearly from hilt to tip, hissing as it dribbled from blade to floor.

"Are you all right?"

Mia gave her a wan, distant smile. "It's okay. I've done it before. ~ G.S. Jennsen

The world was waiting--wide open and hers for the taking. ~ Sarah J. Maas

I'm the best," Elena muttered to herself the next morning s she got out of the taxi in front of the magnificient creation that was Archangel Tower.
"Hey, lady, you gonna pay me or just talk to yourself?"
"What? Oh ... Keep the change."
... " ... you got a big hunt coming on?"
Elena didn't ask how he'd pegged her for a hunter. "No. But I do have a high chance of meeting a horrible death within the next few hours. Might as well do something good as up my shot at getting into heaven. ~ Nalini Singh

Because as the moon followed the sun, when Illium ascended to become an archangel, Aodhan would go with him as his second. ~ Nalini Singh

I was dreaming about this - except it feels even better than I thought it would. Fucking fantastic. Clean sheets. You"

Warrick moved across and kissed him gently, exactly as he'd imagined. Soft cotton and warm skin against him, soothing and luxurious. Hand on his back, touching carefully. He had a moment of fear that this was the dream, that soon he would wake up in the cell. Then a noise distracted him: distant firing in the city. He tensed, and Warrick's hand stroked a circle over his shoulder-blade. More firing, but it was nothing to do with him. Nothing to worry about, even if he could manage it. Safe, here.

He recaptured the tail end of a thought, before it disappeared into sleep. "Just you. 'S enough."

If Warrick said anything in reply, Toreth didn't hear it. ~ Manna Francis

Aaron used the Blade to direct another wave of water at Kyran, who managed to block it. In retaliation, Kyran sent a stream of fireballs at him. Aaron's defence wasn't as good as Kyran's, and he was struck by one, burning his shoulder. He fell back with a cry, the sword almost slipping from his grip. Aaron swung it, sending a wave of water at Kyran, but this time commanded it to spin around him, build tall as a tower and then fall on him, crushing him under its weight.

It did just that and for the second time that day, Kyran was pulled under the water. Rage thrummed inside Aaron, blinding him, taking over him, and he instructed the water to hold on to Kyran, to not let him go – to let him drown. ~ S.F. Mazhar

the world was too big, too full of splintered dreams. ~ Sarah J. Maas

You are mine, Elena. If you choose to sleep in another bed, I will simply pick you up and bring you home. ~ Nalini Singh

It's a little scary, what you do."
As I tried to figure out how to respond, and with words as sharp and cold as the blade of a knife, Criminy said, "If you're scared of her talent, then you don't truly know what fear is. ~ Delilah S. Dawson

He could feel the end of the battle approaching, and so could the blur of the Sith he faced in the Force, the shadow had become a pulsar of fear.

Easily, almost effortlessly, he turned the shadow's fear into a weapon: he angled the battle to bring them both out onto the window ledge.

Out in the wind. Out with the lightning. Out on a rain-slicked ledge above a half kilometer drop.

Out where the shadow's fear's fear made it hesitate.

Out where the shadow's fear turned some of it's Force-powered speed into a Force-powered grip on the slippery permacrete.

Out where Mace could flick his blade in one precise arc and slash the shadow's lightsaber in half.

One piece flipped back in through the cut open window. The other tumbled from opening fingers, bounced on the ledge, and fell through the rain towards the distant alleys below.

Now the shadow was only Palpatine: old and shrunken, thinning hair bleached white by time and care, face lined with exhaustion.

'For all your power, my lord,you are no Jedi. All you are, my lord,' Mace said evenly, staring past his blade, 'is under arrest. ~ Matthew Woodring Stover

Pathology, probably more than any other branch of science, suffers from heroes and hero-worship. Rudolf Virchow has been its archangel and William Welch its John the Baptist, while Paracelsus and Cohnheim have been relegated to the roles of Lucifer and Beelzebub ... Actually, there are no heroes in Pathology-all of the great thoughts permitting advance have been borrowed from other fields, and the renaissance of pathology stems not from pathology itself but from the philosophers Kant and Goethe. ~ Harry S.N. Greene

Elena: I guess a dying woman can be stupid if she wants. I'm crazy about you, Archangel. You scare the shit out of me at times, but I want to dance with you anyway. ~ Nalini Singh

I have so much love inside me, Jason. So much. And I have never been allowed to shower it on anyone
no one wanted it. Let me stretch the wings of my heart with you. ~ Nalini Singh

Cause nobody's the slightest idea who we are, or who we were, not even we ourselves
- except, that is, in the glimmer of a moment of fair business between strangers, or the nod of knowing and agreement between friends.
Other than these, we go out anonymous into the insect air and all we are is the dust of colour, brief engineerings of wings towards a glint of light on a blade of grass or a leaf in a summer dark. ~ Ali Smith

Vincent came within inches of her face. "You are a rare beauty, Sheirah." He drifted his eyes over her face. "But I shall not give you, or anyone my blood willingly or otherwise. I have made far too many mistakes to trust the likes of someone I have just met."
Meadow gazed into Vincent's eyes and smiled wryly. "You tell me the truth, archangel. For if you spoke to me lies, I would have known. ~ Madison Thorne Grey

You need to know where to go,' Sanya said.
'Yes,'
'And you are going to consult four large pizzas for guidance.'
'Yes,' I said.
... 'There is, I think, humour here which does not translate well from English into sanity.'
'That's pretty rich coming from the agnostic Knight of the Cross with a holy Sword who takes his orders from an archangel.' I said.
- Harry Dresden & Sanya, Changes, Jim Butcher ~ Jim Butcher

Aiden smirked. "Wonder what this one is called?"
The hellhound's ears twitched as the massive body lowered preparing for attack. I slid my hand to the middle of the blade, feeling my heart pound and the adrenaline kick my system into overdrive. In the pit of my stomach, the cord started to unravel.
I swallowed. "Let's call this one ... Toto."
Three mouths opened in a growl that sent a cold chill down my spine, and a wave of hot, fetid breath smacked into us. Bile burned the back of my throat.
"I guess it doesn't like the name," I said, moving slowly to the right.
Aiden's powerful body tensed. "Here, Toto ... " One head snapped in his direction. "That's a good Toto."
I slipped around the ancient cross, creeping up on the hellhound from the right. The middle and left head focused on me, snapping and growlying.
Aiden clucked his tongue. "Come on, Toto, I'm pretty tasty. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

The displacement of class politics by identity politics has been very confusing to older Marxists, who for many years clung to the old industrial working class as their preferred category of the underprivileged. They tried to explain this shift in terms of what Ernest Gellner labeled the "Wrong Address Theory": "Just as extreme Shi'ite Muslims hold that Archangel Gabriel made a mistake, delivering the Message to Mohamed when it was intended for Ali, so Marxists basically like to think that the spirit of history or human consciousness made a terrible boob. The awakening message was intended for classes, but by some terrible postal error was delivered to nations. ~ Francis Fukuyama

He threads a hook, re-sews his mouth, cuts off the thread-tails with the razor blade. It's a simple task, no more difficult than shaving. He can do it in the dark. He can do it in a thirty-knot wind and seven-foot seas. He can do it in his sleep, and he probably has.
(Margin note in reference to excerpt above:) "Per Dr. B: it's easy to get used to doing things that are harmful to ourselves- do it often enough + it becomes ordinary/habitual- just how you live. ~ Doug Dorst

It seems Montgomery could not help himself when it came to this vase. I'm afraid he has a weakness for beautiful things and has been known to relocate an item if he feels it is not being accorded the proper appreciation. Once he 'relocated' an ancient sculpture from the home of another archangel. ~ Nalini Singh

I would clean my blades, and wash the blood from my skin.
And I would do it again and again and again. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Are we not all shaped by our experiences? Are we not the sum of our memories? The sages of the dwarves say that just as the thousand blows of a hammer shape a blade, so to do the thousand experiences of a man shape him. ~ Jonathan Moeller

The air is blue and keen and cold,
With snow the roads and fields are white;
But here the forest's clothed with light
And in a shining sheath enrolled.
Each branch, each twig, each blade of grass,
Seems clad miraculously with glass:

Above the ice-bound streamlet bends
Each frozen fern with crystal ends. ~ William Sharp