Beastly Bones Quotes

Right," I said. My ears were still ringing slightly. "Did you just wake me with a policemen's rattle? You can hear those things from two blocks away."
"A what? No, this is a grogger--it's an old Judaic instrument. It's used during Purim to make a deafening racket during special readings. Charming, isn't it? Marvelously raucous custom."
"Knocking gently also works."
"You have no appreciation for culture. ~ William Ritter

I at this writing am an old man, only three years short of my three score and ten. And they tell me that Wycliffe's bones have been dug up and burned and cast into the river that leads to the sea. The Church--she thinks--has had her revenge.
But, as I hear it, Wycliffe's writings had already touched one man in Bohemia, John Huss, whom the Church burned several years ago. And though both Wycliffe and Huss be dead, There are rumors of unrest in that small country, unrest caused by those who seek true religion.
In England, King Henry rules hand in glove with the Pope, but not forever, I think.
We are still here--the Lollards, I mean. Did you guess it? Yes, I have become a "poor priest." And I will tell you this: the writings of Wycliffe have been driven out of Oxford, but they can be found in every other nook in England. Indeed, many a time I have talked with an Oxford scholar on the road and have seen God open his heart to the truth.
This is what Saint Paul meant when he spoke of Christians as being pressed but never pinned. The Church rages, but the truth goes on. Many a stout English yeoman embraces it in these days and leads his family in true godly worship.
John Wycliffe was our morning star. When all was darkest and England lay asleep in the deadly arms of the papacy, God sent him to us. The Scripture has come to England. What will it hold back? Soon--though perhaps not in my lifetime-- the dawn will break, and there will be a new day in Engla ~ Andy Thomson

Our name is Equality 7-2521, as it is written on the iron bracelet which all men wear on their left wrists with their names upon it. We are twenty-one years old. We are six feet tall, and this is a burden, for there are not many men who are six feet tall. Ever have the Teachers and the Leaders pointed to us and frowned and said: "There is evil in your bones, Equality 7-2521, for your body has grown beyond the bodies of your brothers." But we cannot change our bones nor our body. ~ Ayn Rand

The Scholars around us scatter, running every which way, driven by a fear that's been hammered into our bones. Always us! Our dignity shredded, our families annihilated, our children torn from their parents. Our blood soaking the dirt. What sin was so great that Scholars must pay, with every generation, with the only thing we have left: our lives? ~ Sabaa Tahir

Lorcan had been born from and gifted with darkness. Returning to it was not a difficult task.

But letting that glimmering, lovely light before him die out . . . In his ancient, bitter bones, he could not accept it.
She had been forgotten - by everyone and everything. And still she had hoped. And still she had been kind to him.
And still she had offered him a glimpse of peace in the time he'd known her.

She had offered him a home. ~ Sarah J. Maas

I might have said you'll pay for the wild & reckless hour,
pay in the currency of sweat and shiver,
the future squandered, the course
of years reconfigured, relinquishment so
complete it's more utter than any falling in love. Falling

instead in flames, burning tiles spiraling to litter
the courtyards of countless places that will
never be yours, the fingerprints,
tossed gloves & glittering costumes, flared
cornices & parapets, shattering panes, smoked out

or streaked with embers, the tinder of spools, such
a savage conflagration, stupid edge-game,
the way junkies tempt death,
over & over again, toy with it. I might have
told you that. Everything you ever meant to be, pfft,

out the window in sulphured matchlight, slow tinder
& strike, possession purely ardent as worship
& the scream working its way out
of your bones, demolition of wall & strut
within until you're stark animal need. That is

love, isn't it? Everything you meant to be falls
away so you dwell within a perfect
singularity, a kind of saint. ~ Lynda Hull

My mother hold my exhausted body to her bones. This roar is our first sound of freedom. ~ Terry Farish

Drive like hell was following you." - Jace Wayland ~ Cassandra Clare

It was Ebon's turn now, and he stepped forward and gave the pegasus' great clarion neigh
far more like a trumpet than a horse's neigh; hollow bones are wonderful for resonance
and swept his wings forward to touch, or almost touch, his alula-hands to her temples before he gave his own speech, in the half-humming, half-whuffling syllables the pegasi made when they spoke aloud, only she could understand what he was saying in silent speech. The words were just as stiff and silly (she was rather relieved to discover) as the ones she'd had to say.
He stopped whuffling and added,I was going to say, hee ho, ho hee, your wings are too short, you'll never catch me, but my dad said he was going to be listening and I'd better get it right. I guess since you can hear too it's good that I did. ~ Robin McKinley

Poorness never left you, she told him. It was a hunger that embedded itself into your bones. It starved you, even when you were full. "I'm ~ Brit Bennett

Down vith children! Do them in!
Boil their bones and fry their skin!
Bish them, sqvish them, bash them, mash them!
Brrreak them, shake them, slash them, smash them!
Offer chocs vith magic powder!
Say "Eat up!" then say it louder.
Crrram them full of sticky eats,
Send them home still guzzling sveets.
And in the morning little fools
Go marching off to separate schools.
A girl feels sick and goes all pale.
She yells, "Hey look! I've grrrown a tail!"
A boy who's standing next to her
Screams, "Help! I think I'm grrrowing fur!"
Another shouts, "Vee look like frrreaks!
There's viskers growing on our cheeks!"
A boy who vos extremely tall
Cries out, "Vot's wrong? I'm grrrowing small!"
Four tiny legs begin to sprrrout
From everybody rrround about.
And all at vunce, all in a trrrice,
There are no children! Only MICE! ~ Roald Dahl

The City. Can't you hear it? People. Machines. Even thoughts so thick your bones feel it and your ear almost catches it. ~ Barry Eisler

He wants her in his bedroom. And not in that way - no girl has ever been in his bedroom that way. It is his private space, his sanctuary. But he wants Clary there. He wants her to see him, the reality of him, not the image he shows the world. He wants to lie down on the bed with her and have her curl into him. He wants to hold her as she breathes softly through the night; to see her as no one else sees her: vulnerable and asleep. To see her and to be seen. ~ Cassandra Clare

And I, you, and he; and we, ye, and they, are all bats; and I'm a crow, especially when I stand a'top of this pine tree here. Caw! caw! caw! caw! caw! caw! Ain't I a crow? And where's the scare-crow? There he stands; two bones stuck into a pair of old trowsers, and two more poked into the sleeves of an old jacket. ~ Herman Melville

These were the lovely bones that had grown around my absence: the connections-sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent-that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me hold the world without me in it. The events that my death wrought were merely the bones of a body that would become whole at some unpredictable time in the future. The price of what I came to see as this miraculous body had been my life. ~ Alice Sebold

Knowledge is only rumor until it lives in the bones. ~ Brene Brown

Breeze raised his dueling cane, pointing it at Ham. "I see my period of intellectual respite has come to an end."
Ham smiled. "I thought up a couple of beastly questions while I was gone, and I've been saving them just for you, Breeze."
"I'm dying of anticipation," Breeze said. He turned his cane toward Lestibournes. "Spook, drink."
Spook rushed over and fetched Breeze a cup of wine.
"He's such a fine lad," Breeze noted, accepting the drink. "I barely even have to nudge him Allomantically. If only the rest of you ruffians were so accommodating."
Spook frowned "Niceing the not on the playing without."
"I have no idea what you just said, child," Breeze said. "So I'm simply going to pretend it was coherent, then move on."
Kelsier rolled his eyes. "Losing the stress on the nip," he said. "Notting without the needing of care."
"Riding the rile of the rids to the right," Spook said with a nod.
"What are you two babbling about?" Breeze said testily.
"Wasing the was of brightness," Spook said. "Nip the having of wishing of this."
"Ever wasing the doing of this," Kelsier agreed.
Breeze turned to Dockson with exasperation. "I believe our companions have finally lost their minds, dear friend."
Dockson shrugged. Then, with a perfectly straight face, he said, "Wasing not of wasing is."
Breeze sat, dumbfounded, and the room burst into laughter. Breeze rolled his eyes indignantly, shaking his head and muttering about the ~ Brandon Sanderson

She was tired in her bones, but she rallied her energy one last time and told him of they years in Rifthold, of stealing Asterion horses and racing across the desert, of dancing until dawn with the courtesans and thieves and all the beautiful, wicked creatures in the world. And then she told him about losing Sam, and of that first whipping in Endovier, when she'd spat blood in the Chief Overseer's face, and what she had seen and endured in the following year. She spoke of the day she had snapped and sprinted for her own death. Her heart grew heavy when at last she got to the evening when the Captain of the Royal Guard prowled into her life, and a tyrant's son had offered her a shot at freedom. She told him what she could about the competition and how she'd won it, until her words slurred and her eyelids drooped. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Once assured that we'd lost our tail, I plummeted down into a nearby field, landing with a skidding thud.
Bones dropped to the ground next to me without so much as a bent stem of grass to show for it. One day I'd master landing that gracefully. For now, I did well not to leave a small crater in my wake. ~ Jeaniene Frost

In a strange way we were free. We'd reached the end of the line. We had nothing more to lose. Our privacy, our liberty, our dignity: all of this was gone and we were stripped down to the bare bones of our selves ~ Susanna Kaysen

Won't it be nice when all this beastly killing is over, and we can enjoy ourselves and not hurt anyone? I hate this game. ~ Albert Ball

Try your breath on the bones of everything that has them, remember the best songs and figure out how to write them down so when somebody's blowing on your bones, the songs keep on. ~ Catherynne M Valente

Keep up," said an irritable voice in her ear. It was Jace, who had dropped back to walk beside her. "I don't want to have to keep looking behind me to make sure nothing's happened to you."
"So don't bother."
"Last time I left you alone, a demon attacked you," he pointed out.
"Well, I'd certainly hate to interrupt your pleasant night stroll with my sudden death."
He blinked. "There is a fine line between sarcasm and outright hostility, and you seem to have crossed it. ~ Cassandra Clare

Hate Poem

I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped
in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.

Look out! Fore! I hate you.

The blue-green jewel of sock lint I'm digging
from under by third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases
hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.

A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious
symbol of how I hate you.

My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant "good morning": hate.
You know how when I'm sleepy I nuzzle my head
under your arm? Hate.
The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit
practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning
to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one
individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity
of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Julie Sheehan

My life
has appeared unclothed in court,
detail by detail,
death-bone witness by death-bone witness,
and I was shamed at the verdict ... ~ Anne Sexton

And that is why a dog can go to the vet and have a really big operation and have metal pins sticking out of its leg but if it sees a cat it forgets that it has pins sticking out of its leg and chases after the cat. But when a person has an operation it has a picture in its head of the hurt carrying on for months and months. And it has a picture of all the stitches in its leg and the broken bone and the pins and even if it sees a bus it has to catch it doesn't run because it has a picture in its head of the bones crunching together and the stitches breaking and even more pain. ~ Mark Haddon

This is going to sound slightly stalkerish, but I can't help but notice you've decapitated Jack Skellington and put him on your ears." "What can I say?" Yvette shrugs. "I like bones." "So do I, actually, because our skeletons support a massive interconnected muscular structure and without them we would be blobs of flesh. Also we wouldn't have middle fingers to flip people off with. Are you in Room 14B?" Yvette's eyes widen. "Yeah, so you're -" "MY ROOMMATE!" I screech. A passing guy winces and flips me off. I loudly inform him he has his skeleton to thank for that. ~ Sara Wolf

Just what did happen to a corpse under water for four, five years, even three? the tarpaulin or canvas would rot, perhaps more than half of it would disappear; the stones would likely have fallen out, therefore, enabling the corpse to drift more easily, even rise a little, provided any flesh was left. But wasn't rising due to bloating? Tom thought of the word maceration, the flaking off in layers of the outer skin. Then what? The nibbling of fish? Or wouldn't the current have removed pieces of flesh until nothing but bones were left? The bloated period must be long past ... ~ Patricia Highsmith

October Fullness"

Little by little, and also in great leaps,
life happened to me,
and how insignificant this business is.
These veins carried
my blood, which I scarcely ever saw,
I breathed the air of so many places
without keeping a sample of any.
In the end, everyone is aware of this:
nobody keeps any of what he has,
and life is only a borrowing of bones.
The best thing was learning not to have too much
either of sorrow or of joy,
to hope for the chance of a last drop,
to ask more from honey and from twilight.

Perhaps it was my punishment.
Perhaps I was condemned to be happy.
Let it be known that nobody
crossed my path without sharing my being.
I plunged up to the neck
into adversities that were not mine,
into all the sufferings of others.
It wasn't a question of applause or profit.
Much less. It was not being able
to live or breathe in this shadow,
the shadow of others like towers,
like bitter trees that bury you,
like cobblestones on the knees.

Our own wounds heal with weeping,
our own wounds heal with singing,
but in our own doorway lie bleeding
widows, Indians, poor men, fishermen.
The miner's child doesn't know his father
amidst all that suffering.

So be it, but my business
was
the fullness of the spirit:
a cry of pleasure choking you,
a sigh from an uprooted ~ Pablo Neruda

When we came back to the sun deck, the party talk had swung around to the bones found at the end of the street. Carey was saying the police had been to ask her if there was anything she remembered that might help to identify the bones as her husband's. "I told them," she was saying, "that that rascal had run off and left me, not been killed. For weeks after he didn't come back, I thought he might walk back through that door with those diapers. You know," she told Aubrey parenthetically, "he left to get diapers for the baby and never came back." Aubrey nodded, perhaps to indicate understanding or perhaps because he'd already heard this bit of Lawrenceton folklore. ~ Charlaine Harris

A grim expression came over Syah's face. "The colt you speak of lost its mother during a storm. If this stallion was that colt, it is not just wild, it is insane. That horse will break your bones."
"And that will be a worthy end, a prince struck down by such a noble steed."
Fasime pushed himself off the support of the fence, but Oman grabbed his arm.
"It's not worth it, Brother."
"I can tame him."
"What will we tell Mother and Father if he kills you?" Oman questioned.
"Tell them I gave my life with pride. Do not punish him if he kills me. Release him back into the wild, and my spirit will ride him into the mist. ~ D.M. Raver

We danced in the handkerchief-big space between the speak-easy tables, in which stood the plates of half-eaten spaghetti or chicken bones and the bottles of Dago red. For about five minutes the dancing had some value in itself, then it became very much like acting out some complicated and portentous business in a dream which seems to have a meaning but whose meaning you can't figure out. Then the music was over, and stopping dancing was like waking up from the dream, being glad to wake up and escape and yet distressed because now you won't ever know what it had been all about. ~ Robert Penn Warren

Lila Bard knew in her bones that she was meant to be a pirate. ~ Victoria Schwab

Breaking from the universe,
like waves spilling, plunging and surging
against a shore,
we crash with life and vigor,
scrape and scour,
spit beaches and eat land,
polish stone, glass and driftwood of splintered dreams,
uncover and bury bleached bones
of ambitions and aspirations,
carve grottoes of intentions and regrets
and then slip back into the deep
from whence we came
and may return again. ~ Jeffrey A. White

[She] was made up of skin and bones and hate and crazy, and hate and crazy don't weigh anything. ~ Barry Lyga

Because I think people must be the same everywhere. Only these people are in my bones. ~ Jodi Lynn Anderson

I'm the one who's always been there for you ... not him! ~ Cassandra Clare

Point is, you gotta be scared. Fear protects you. You gotta be scared right down to your bones" - he touched his fingertips to her collarbone - "for bravery to mean anything. ~ Krystal Sutherland

You come back here, you good-for-nothing! Come help me drag these ailing bones."
The old man flees toward the Lethe as fast as his rickety legs will carry him. Like an army scouring the countryside, she surges in his wake, flattening grasses and bushes as she goes. The gap narrows.
"Don't you recognize me?" she hollers. "It's me, your sweetie pie! ~ Emily Whitman

Good. You're awake."
Annwyl gulped and prayed the gods were just playing a cruel joke on her. She raised herself on her elbows when that deep, dark voice spoke again, "Careful. You don't want to tear open those stitches."
With utter and almost heart-stopping dread, Annwyl looked over her shoulder and then couldn't turn away. There he was. An enormous black dragon, his wings pressed tight against his body. The light emanating from the pit fire causing his shiny black scales to glisten. His huge horned head rested in the center of one of his claws. He looked so casual. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he smirked at her, his black eyes searing her from across the gulf between them. A magnificent creature. But a creature
nonetheless. A monster.
"Dragons can speak, then?" Brilliant, Annwyl. But she really didn't know what else to say.
"Aye." Scales brushed against stone and she bit the inside of her mouth to stop herself from cringing. "My name is Fearghus."
Annwyl frowned. "Fearghus?" She thought for a moment. Then dread settled over her bones, dragging her down to the pits of despair. "Fearghus . . . the Destroyer?"
"That's what they call me."
"But you haven't been seen in years. I thought you were a myth." Right now, she silently prayed he was a myth.
"Do I look like a myth?"
Annwyl stared at the enormous beast, marveling at the length and breadth of him. Black scales covered the entire length of his body, two black horns ~ G.A. Aiken

You can do this (this thing, where your body will cease to produce hormones and your skin, hair, muscles and bones ... basically every part of you will notice, go into withdrawals, and stage a coup). Be prepared for this mentally, and you'll own this thing. ~ Lisa Jey Davis

At my death paint my body with red paint and plunge it into fresh water to be restored back to life, otherwise my bones will be turned into stone and my joints into flint in my grave, but my spirit will rise ~ Crazy Horse

SELF-TALK
Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can cause me no harm. I cannot let myself become unhappy upon facing criticism. ~ Sirshree

The Coming of Light
Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow's dust flares into breath. ~ Mark Strand

I can make going to the dry-cleaners last an entire day, and the dry cleaners might be 150 yards from my front door. You might find it hard to believe, but I am bone-idle lazy. ~ Noel Gallagher

Mencheres dragged her screaming from me only an hour after our binding!" Gregor said. "I don't give a rot if Mencheres yanked her off your throbbing, rigid cock," Bones snarled. "Go dream a little dream, you sod! ~ Jeaniene Frost

Had my father loved my mother? He never spoke of her. I always imagined a traditional marriage between them--one built with the strong bones of respect, but stripped of the soft skin of love. ~ Kay Honeyman

I think this'll definitely tide me over while we're apart,"Bones laughed, dragging me into his arms with far more strength and quickness than was fair, considering I still had trouble making my limbs operate.
"Oh, Kitten," he murmured as his lips dragged down my throat. "You didn't really think we were done, did you? ~ Jeaniene Frost

As things stand the "intellectuals" only come out to lick the bones left over by the tyrant. ~ Nilantha Ilangamuwa

Hawk always smiled when he broke bones, he said he liked the sound they made, but who could hear a bone cracking when the recipient was too busy screaming his fucking head off. ~ V. Theia