Copiii Spun Quotes

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard someone got slapped. By the sound alone, one could tell that it was a hard one. I figured whoever got slapped had to be close by, so I spun around in search of this person who had just gotten the daylights slapped out of them, only to discover that the person was me. ~ Drexel Deal

Congratulations?" Martin's expression was like boiling milk.

"Congratulations? I will not permit my sister to marry such a rogue."

"Martin, darling." Juliana said, putting a gentle hand on her husband's arm, "I completely understand your misgivings but I do think we should consider the matter calmly."

"Calmly!" Martin spun around. "I am not calm!"

"I think we all realize that, dearest," Juliana said. ~ Nicola Cornick

Afterward, I pretended to be patient as Akos taught me how to predict how strong a poison would be without tasting it. I tried to seal every moment in my memory. I needed to know how to brew these concoctions on my own, because soon he would be gone. If the renegades and I were caught in our attempt tonight, I would probably lose my life. If we succeeded, Akos would be home, and Shotet would be in chaos, without its leader. Either way, it was unlikely that I would see him again.
"No, no," Akos said. "Don't hack at it--slice. Slice!"
"I am slicing," I said. "Maybe if your knives weren't so dull--"
"Dull? I could cut your fingertip off with this knife!"
I spun the knife in my hand and caught it by the handle. "Oh? Could you?"
He laughed, and put his arm across my shoulders. I felt my heartbeat in my throat. "Don't pretend you're not capable of delicacy; I've seen it myself."
I scowled, and tried to focus on "slicing." My hands were trembling a little. "See me dancing in the training room and you think you know everything about me."
"I know enough. Look, slices! Told you so."
He lifted his arm, but kept his hand against my back, right under my shoulder blade. I carried the feeling with me for the rest of the night, as we finished the elixir and got ready for bed and he shut the door between us. ~ Veronica Roth

There is nothing so absurd as knowledge spun too fine. ~ Benjamin Franklin

The public discourse on global warming has little in common with the standards of scientific discourse. Rather, it is part of political discourse where comments are made to secure the political base and frighten the opposition rather than to illuminate issues. In political discourse, information is to be 'spun' to reinforce pre-existing beliefs, and to discourage opposition. ~ Richard Lindzen

Contemporary feminism cut itself off from history and bankrupted itself when it spun its puerile, paranoid fantasy of male oppressors and female sex-object victims. Woman is the dominant sex. ~ Camille Paglia

That which will not be spun, let it not come betweene the spindle and the distaffe. ~ George Herbert

All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born. ~ William Faulkner

His bit of pencil turned up in the seat pocket of his short trousers, but as the search for the pad continued without issue a crease appeared in the boy's domed brow. He patted himself up and down until filaments of honey floss formed between his fingertips and pockets, coating him in a gossamer down. The old man watched helpless as the boy, with mounting agitation, spun threads of loss from his palms and fingertips. ~ Michael Chabon

Other men fought bravely, but they flinched from war's true nature. Only I had the stomach to see what must be done... You promise mercy to spies so they will spill their story, then you kill them after. You beat men who mutiny. You coax heroes from their sulks. You keep spirits high at any cost. When the great hero Philoctetes was crippled with a festering wound, the men lost their courage over it. So I left him behind on an island and claimed he had asked to be left. Ajax and Agamemnon would have battered at Troy's locked gates until they died, but it was I who thought of the trick of the giant horse, and I spun the story that convinced the Trojans to pull it inside. I crouched in the wooden belly with my picked men, and if any shook with terror and strain, I put my knife to his throat. When the Trojans finally slept, we tore through them like foxes among soft-feathered chicks. ~ Madeline Miller

Poetry comes fine spun from a mind at peace. ~ Ovid

Howard, instead of trying to explain the hermit's existence in terms of hearth fires and trappers' shacks, preferred the blank space the old man actually seemed to inhabit; he liked to think of some fold in the woods, some seam that only the hermit could sense and slip into, where the ice and snow, where the frozen forest itself, would accept him and he would no longer need fire or wool blankets, but instead flourish wreathed in snow, spun in frost, with limbs like cold wood and blood like frigid sap. ~ Paul Harding

The white hands of the tenebrous belle deal the hand of destiny. Her fingernails are longer than those of the mandarins of ancient China and each is pared to a fine point. These and teeth as fine and white as spikes of spun sugar are the visible signs of the destiny she wistfully attempts to evade via the arcana; her claws and teeth have been sharpened on centuries of corpses, she is the last bud of the poison tree that sprang from the loins of Vlad the Impaler who picnicked on corpses in the forests of Transylvania.
The walls of her bedroom are hung with black satin, embroidered with tears of pearl. At the rooms four corners are funerary urns and bowls which emit slumbrous, pungent fumes of incense. In the centre is an elaborate catafalque, in ebony, surrounded by long candles in enormous silver candlesticks. In a white lace negligee stained a little with blood, the Countess climbs up on her catafalque at dawn each morning and lies down in an open coffin. ~ Angela Carter

That passivity in me has been the core of it all, the real evil. That weakness, that refusal to compromise a fractured and stupid morality, that awful pride! For that, I let myself become the thing I am, when I knew it was wrong. For that, I let Claudia become the vampire she became, when I knew it was wrong. For that, I stood by and let her kill Lestat, when I knew that was wrong, the very thing that was her undoing. I lifted not a finger to prevent it. And Madeleine, Madeleine, I let her come to that, when I should never have made her a creature like ourselves. I knew that was wrong! Well, I tell you I am no longer that passive, weak creature that has spun evil from evil till the web is vast and thick while I remain its stultified victim. It's over! ~ Anne Rice

The last caravan they robbed had been filled with fine clothing, pieces of which were strewn about their camp. Trousers hung from trees, shirts danced in the breeze. The bright colors on bare branches gave everything a festival air.

Petru wrestled with an intricately brocaded vest, struggling to get it across his shoulders. He spun in one direction and then the other. Nicolae watched, lips a single straight line but eyes dancing with mirth.

"That would fit better if it were designed for a man," Matei said as he walked by. Matei's purse was full now, but he still looked hungry.

Petru stopped spinning and ripped off the vest in horror. Nicolae burst into laughter. "You could have told me!" Petru said.

"But it set off the color of your eyes so nicely."

Petru glared murderously. Then he looked over at Lada and held the vest out. She raised a single eyebrow at the delicate colors and needlework. Muttering to himself, Petru threw the vest at Nicolae's head and walked away ~ Kiersten White

Rallick will kill you," Murillio said levelly.

"Nonsense." Kruppe placed the mask over his face. "How will the lad ever recognize Kruppe?"

Murillio studied the man's round body, the faded red waistcoat, gathered cuffs, and the short oily curls atop his head. "Never mind." He sighed.

"Excellent," Kruppe said. "Now, please accept these two masks, gifts from your friend Kruppe. A trip is saved, and Baruk need not wait any longer for a secret message that must not be mentioned." He replaced his mask in its box, then spun round to study the eastern skyline. "Off to yon alchemist's abode, then. Good evening, friend - "

"Wait a minute," Murillio said, grasping Kruppe's arm and turning him round. "Have you seen Coll?"

"Why, of course. The man sleeps a deep, recovering sleep from his ordeals.'Twas healed magically, Sulty said. By some stranger, yet. Coll himself was brought in by yet a second stranger, who found a third stranger, who in turn brought a fifth stranger in the company of the stranger who healed Coll. And so it goes, friend Murillio. Strange doings, indeed. Now, Kruppe must be off. Goodbye, friend - "

"Not yet," Murillio snarled. He glanced around. The street was still empty. He leaned close. "I've worked some things out, Kruppe. Circle Breaker contacting me put everything into order in my mind. I know who you are."

"Aaai!" Kruppe cried, withdrawing. "I'll not deny it, then! It's true, Murillio, K ~ Steven Erikson

On this voyage, I couldn't help but think we need need. We need to be forced to go outside. We need to be forced to depend on one another. we need to be forced to sacrifice, to grow a garden, to fix a rood, to interact with neighbors. Nature has been all around me as a boy. It unleashed terrifying storms, spun circular cycles, inflicted bone-chilling, cold and renewed itself with springy revivifications. Yet I was completely oblivious to it all. I was playing video games. ~ Ken Ilgunas

And you're about to pay for that, baby." Furi spun Syn around and pushed his chest against the door. "Furious," Syn groaned when he felt his sweater being roughly yanked over his head. Furi's hand pressed hard into the center of his back, keeping him pinned against the front door. "Yes, punish me." Syn froze when Furi's assault on his body stopped immediately after he said that. Oh no. Furi's hair was brushing against Syn's face as he leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You ever been handcuffed, Sergeant? Restrained." Syn shivered, his cock leaking in his tight jeans. "Oh fuck." "Don't ~ A.E. Via

It had been the most relaxed that either of them had been for as long as he could remember--certainly since their engagement. Rachel had spun and twittered for the first few days, disoriented without a wedding as the epicenter of her near future. But the pleasure of the postmortem and of being, finally, just the two of them, had aided her recovery. By the end of the first week she was almost convincing when she said brightly, 'I'm so glad it's all over and we get to get on with normal life!' She had repeated this assertion a lot since they'd arrived, but that had been the first time that she hadn't sounded crestfallen. ~ Francesca Segal

We have almost always been linked," Brigitte told Nynaeve without taking her eyes from Cain's. "He is usually born well before me - so I know my time approches again when I cannot find him - and I usually hate him at first sight in the flesh. But we nearly always end lovers or wed. A simple story, but I think we have spun it out in a thousand variations. ~ Robert Jordan

Newton supposed that the case of the planet was similar to that of [a ball spun around on the end of an elastic string]; that it was always pulled in the direction of the sun, and that this attraction or pulling of the sun produced the revolution of the planet, in the same way that the traction or pulling of the elastic string produces the revolution of the ball. What there is between the sun and the planet that makes each of them pull the other, Newton did not know; nobody knows to this day; and all we are now able to assert positively is that the known motion of the planet is precisely what would be produced if it were fastened to the sun by an elastic string, having a certain law of elasticity. Now observe the nature of this discovery, the greatest in its consequences that has ever yet been made in physical science: -

I. It begins with an hypothesis, by supposing that there is an analogy between the motion of a planet and the motion of a ball at the end of a string.

II. Science becomes independent of the hypothesis, for we merely use it to investigate the properties of the motion, and do not trouble ourselves further about the cause of it. ~ William Kingdon Clifford

The compass of Magnus's soul spun freely within him, and he'd long been used to that. ~ Cassandra Clare

Perhaps we were looking strained in our manner, because I noticed we had attracted the attention of a little man who sat on a sofa not far off. I tried to outstare him and that was easy. He had a long moustache and fawn-like eyes and he looked hurriedly away: his elbow caught his glass of beer and spun it on to the floor, so that he was overcome with confusion. I was sorry then because it occurred to me that he might have recognized me from my photographs: he might even be one of my few readers. He had a small boy sitting with him, and what a cruel thing it is to humiliate a father in the presence of his son. The boy blushed scarlet when the waiter hurried forward, and his father began to apologize with unnecessary vehemence. ~ Graham Greene

This land was brought up from the depths of the ocean by a diver," said the fire. "It was spun from its own substance by a spider. It was shat by a raven. It is the body of a fallen father, whose bones are mountains, whose eyes are lakes. ~ Neil Gaiman

He thought back to everything that happened the night before: the hooded men, the chase, his tired heart and weak legs. The very moment in which Mathias realized it was over, when he'd decided to sacrifice his own life in order to save the young man by his side, the monk had found something fundamental inside himself. Deep in his soul, in that hidden place that can only be discovered when a person finds himself poised on the edge of the abyss, gasping what he thought was his last breath, he'd suddenly seen it. Only then did he realize what he held dearest in his heart. Because the last thing to cross his mind, what he'd thought about the moment he'd spun around, prepared to impale himself on the blade, had been a face. No thoughts of God or faith or any other saint. A face. That's when everything became clear. ~ Riccardo Bruni

But when the web is pulled askew, hooked up at the edge, torn in the middle, one remembers that these webs are not spun in mid-air by incorporeal creatures, but are the work of suffering human beings, and are attached to grossly material things, like health and money and the houses we live in. ~ Virginia Woolf

CSPS is a breath of musical fresh air. With a whale sized hooks and neck wrenching riffs you'll have more than you need to fall head first into this band's fanbase. Take a listen and see what all the fuss is about. I'm sure that if the bone tight rhythm section doesn't lock you in, the finely spun lyric and melody will surely ensnare even the pickiest of musical palette. ~ Brett Hestla

The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life that I told of at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being storied. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. I hate you. I really, really, really hate you. ~ Charles Warnke

Damn it, Mariel," Kieran growled and spun her around to face him once more. "Ye belong to me."
Her heart skipped a beat. He wanted her. Mariel wrenched her arm from his hold but did not back down from the heat of his stare. "Then be a man and take what's yours. ~ Madeline Martin

Michael sprang to his feet, then she gasped when he swung her up into his arms and whirled her in a circle. Her feet went flying out behind her and she clung to his neck as the yard spun around her. Michael kept spinning her in a circle as peals of laughter sounded from his strong throat. She was breathless by the time her feet landed on the ground, her head still whirling so badly she dared not let go of him lest she fall. ~ Elizabeth Camden

If we dig precious things from the land, we will invite disaster."

"Near the day of Purification, there will be cobwebs spun back and forth in the sky."

"A container of ashes might one day be thrown from the sky, which could burn the land and boil the oceans. ~ Native American Prophecies

The second Amazon they met wasn't so friendly. She was dressed in full armor, blocking the throne-room entrance. She spun her spear with lightning speed, but this time Percy was ready. He drew Riptide and stepped into battle. As the Amazon jabbed at him, he sidestepped, cut her spear shaft in half, and slammed the hilt of his sword against her helmet. The guard crumpled.
"Mars Almighty," Frank said. "How did you - that wasn't any Roman technique!"
Percy grinned. "The graecus has some moves, my friend. ~ Rick Riordan

I made a discovery. It was cold enough to make my eyes water, and I found out that If I kept them almost closed, the moisture diffused the lights, so that everything - the Moon, the stars, the street lamp - seemed to have halos and points of scattered light around it. The snow-banks seemed to glitter like a sea of spun sugar, and all the stars were woven together by a lace of incandescence, so that I was walking through a Universe so wild, so wonderful that my heart nearly broke with its beauty.

"For years, I carried that time and place in mind. It's still there. But the thing is, the Universe didn't make it. I did. I saw it, but I saw it because I made myself see it. I took the stars, which are distant suns, and the night, which is the Earth's shadow, and the snow, which is water undergoing a state-change, and I took the tears in my eyes, and I made a wonderland. No one else has ever been able to see it. No one else has ever been able to go there. Not even I can ever return to it physically, it lies thirty-eight years in the past, in the eye-level perspective of a child, its stereoscopic accuracy based on the separation between the eyes of a child. In only one place does it actually exist. In my mind Elizabeth - in my life.

"But I will die, and where will it be, then?"

Elizabeth looked up at him. "In mind mind a little? Along with the rest of you?"

Hawks looked at her. He reached out and, bending forward as tenderly as a child rece ~ Algis Budrys

Talking nonsense, I called your name like a chant, over and over. I wont forget you, your voice or your many faces; they're spun into my heart. ~ Plastic Tree

The Bear and the Maiden Fair


A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair!
The bear! The bear!
Oh, come, they said, oh come to the fair!
The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!
All black, and brown, and covered with hair!

And Down the road from here to there.
From here! To There!
Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear!
[He] danced and spun, all the way to the Fair!
The Fair! The Fair!

[...]

Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
Her hair! Her hair!
The maid with honey in her hair!

[The bear,] smelled the scent on the summer air.
The bear! The bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair.
He smelled the scent on the summer air!
He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!
Honey on the summer air!

Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
A bear! A bear!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
He lifted her high into the air!
The bear! The bear!

I called for a knight, but you're a bear!
A bear! A bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair!
She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,
But he licked the honey from her hair,
Her hair! Her hair!

Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!
My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!
And off they went, from here ~ George R.R. Martin

Nothing. I have no way of getting in touch with Machiavelli."
Virginia produced her wooden flute and spun it in her fingers. "I don't know why you're so worried, Doctor. I can easily lull them to sleep with-"
Before she could finish her sentence a green-skinned, green-haired, fish-tailed woman had leapt straight up out of the sea, snatched the flute from Virginia's fingers and splashed back into the water on the opposite side of the boat, leaving her empty-handed.
Virginia Dare's scream was hideous. Flinging off her smoke-stained jacket and pulling off her shoes,she launched herself over the side of the boat and disappeared beneath the waves without a trace. ~ Michael Scott

If you know so much,then tell me of Lily or are you too swayed by her beauty?"
"Aye,she's beautiful, but also complicated and young.She is an....an opportunist,but not necessarily a selfish one."
"Ha.She can be. Lily's world revolves only around her."
Tyr chuckled and the sound sent ripples of awareness down her arms. "I'd rather talk about you, Lady Edythe."
"I'd rather not."
"Lady Edythe," Tyr repeated, drawing out her name. His forehead wrinkled. "No. Don't like it. A girl like you needs a nickname."
She hadn't been a "girl" for several years,and Edythe was irked that he saw her as such. "That's one thing I'll never want."
"That's a shame.Everyone should have a nickname."
"Really,then what's yours?"
Tyr licked his lips and in a low voice, lied, "Bachelor."
"Fitting," Edythe retorted. "I doubt with your type of self-serving charm, too many women vie to change that status."
Tyr clucked his tongue, completely unfazed by her ridiculous barb. "Ed,I think.Little and sweet...just like you."
"Thoin," Edythe hissed and moved to walk away,not dreaming for a second that he would know Gaelic and understand what she meant.
"Bauchle," Tyr chirped back in retaliation. Edythe spun around, her jaw open, but before she could retort, he added, this time with a Scottish brogue, "Ed,even if I didn't know my own language, certain words are known far and wide, and "ass" is certainly one of them."
Straightening, she puffed out ~ Michele Sinclair

Like immense time-binding discussions, genres allow ideas to be developed and traded, and for variations to be spun down through decades. ~ Gregory Benford

All great blades have names. It's just how it's done." "Bollocks." Mercurio took back the dagger, held it up between them. "Naming your blade is the sort of faff reserved for heroes, girl. Men who have songs sung about them, histories spun for them, brats named after them. It's the shadow road for you and me. And you dance it right, no one will ever know your name, let alone the pig-sticker in you belt. You'll be a rumor. A whisper. The thought that wakes the bastards of this world sweating in the nevernight. The last think you will ever be in this world, girl, is someone's hero." Mercurio handed back the blade. "But you will be a girl heroes fear. ~ Jay Kristoff

Alric! Stop it!" Pickering snapped at him. "You mustn't let the men see you crying!"
Fury flared in Alric, and he spun on the count. "No? No? Look at them! They are dying for me. They are dying on my order! I say they do have a right to see their king! They all have a right to see their king!"
Alric wiped the tears from his cheeks and gathered his reins. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of having my face put in the dirt! I won't stand it. I'm tired of being helpless. That's my city, built by my ancestors! If my people chose to fight, then, by Maribor, I want them to know it's me they fight!"
The prince put on his helm, drew his father's large sword and spurred his horse forward, not at the trench but at the castle gate itself. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

Rob glanced back at the glint of the blade as Caleb spun it once more. 'So what - you want information?' he asked,looking back at him'You want to talk'?.
'If talking means I ask questions and you answer them'.
Rob exhaled sharply. 'Is that what the tickingclocks about?some kind of threat. ~ Lindsay J. Pryor

If the poet spun for half an hour daily, his poetry would gain in richness. ~ Mahatma Gandhi

With her back turned, she loosened each plait until her hair hung in waves that curled around her waist. Then she spun to face him and puffed a sigh.
"Fine. You caught me. I guess there's no use pretending anymore."
Doran settled in and waited for the punch line.
"I lured you onto this ship," she said, "because I couldn't get enough of your scintillating personality."
There it was.
"Kiss me, Doran," she cried, flopping onto the mattress with one arm slung over her eyes and the other clutched to her breast. "I burn for you, hotter than a thousand hells."
He cocked his head to the side. "I think there's an ointment for that. ~ Melissa Landers

Caillen's head spun the moment she kissed him. In all the misadventures of his life, he'd never expected to find someone like her. Never expected to feel this alive while he lay one step from death. But as he tasted her, for the first time in his life he looked forward to the future. He now had a goal. To keep her with him to the day Death separated them. No one would ever come between them again. "Marry me, Desideria." She nuzzled her cheek against him before she whispered in his ear. "Absolutely. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

My skin prickled and I looked back at the ocean. None of us ask for the things we inherit; they are thrust upon us, willy-nilly. Like The Marine, I suddenly understood. Mom and I weren't trespassing. This house was ours. This view was ours. And that seemed as absurd and unreal as the stories Sailor Hat had spun for me on the ferry. ~ Aimee Friedman

Because people aren't interested in the truth, Dafar. They're interested in what keeps them safe. They're interested in being looked after. They're interested in a tale being spun. ~ Melina Marchetta

We have to recognize that we're nothing, the Pastor says. In the surface world, when they returned from the mine and showered and entered their homes, they were princes, kings, spoiled sons, well-fed fathers, Romeos. They believed their private worlds of home and family spun thanks to their labor, and that as workingmen and breadwinners they had every right to expect their world to revolve around their needs. Now the heart of the mountain has collapsed on top of them, and they are trapped by a block of stone, an object whose newness and perfection suggest, to some, a divine judgment. ~ Hector Tobar

We never even kissed or looked into each other's eyes. Our lips just trespassed on those inner labyrinths hidden deep within our ears, filled them with the private music of wicked words, hers in many languages, mine in the off color of my only tongue, until as our tones shifted, and our consonants spun and squealed, rattled faster, hesitated, raced harder, syllables soon melting with groans, or moans finding purchase in new words, or old words, or made-up words, until we gathered up our heat and refused to release it, enjoying too much the dark language we had suddenly stumbled upon, craved to, carved to, not a communication really but a channeling of our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to Black Forests and wolves, mine banging back to a familiar form, that great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of, which in spite of our separate lusts and individual cries still continued to drive us deeper into stranger tones, our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn fueled by sound. ~ Mark Z. Danielewski

He was, out of all sight (as I remember him), the nicest boy that ever spun a top or broke a window. ~ Wilkie Collins