Crimson Countess Quotes

I can melt steel, fucker, I'll microwave your guts and punch them our your asshole. ~ Garth Ennis

Pym!" The Countess spotted a new victim, and her voice went a little dangerous. "I seconded you to look after Miles. Would you care to explain this scene?"
There was a thoughtful pause. In a voice of simple honesty, Pym replied, "No, Milady. ~ Lois McMaster Bujold

A man should never boast of his courage, nor a woman of her virtue, lest their doing so should be the cause of calling their possession of them into question. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Haste is always ungraceful. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Lies build dreams the truth... shatters them ~ Crimson

There, conspicuous in the light of the conflagration, lay the dead body of a woman - the white face turned upward, the hands thrown out and clutched full of grass, the clothing deranged, the long dark hair in tangles and full of clotted blood. The greater part of the forehead was torn away, and from the jagged hole the brain protruded, overflowing the temple, a frothy mass of gray, crowned with clusters of crimson bubbles - the work of a shell.
The child moved his little hands, making wild, uncertain gestures. He uttered a series of inarticulate and indescribable cries - something between the chattering of an ape and the gobbling of a turkey - a startling, soulless, unholy sound, the language of a devil. The child was a deaf mute.
Then he stood motionless, with quivering lips, looking down upon the wreck. ~ Ambrose Bierce

Hey - we have a problem. You have some unexpected guests down at the gate. You should go check it out."

Guests? Who would come here to see me?

I hop in the golf cart and drive down to the main gate. Just in time to hear Franny Barrister, the Countess of Ellington, tearing into a poor, clueless Matched security guard.

"Don't you tell me we can't come in, you horse's arse. Where's Henry - what have you done with him?"

Simon, my brother's best friend, sees me approach, his sparkling blue eyes shining. "There he is."

I nod to security and open the gate.

"Simon, Franny, what are you doing here?"

"Nicholas said you didn't sound right the last time he spoke to you. He asked us to peek in on you," Simon explains.

Franny's shrewd gaze rakes me over. "He doesn't look drunk. And he obviously hasn't hung himself from the rafters - that's better than I was expecting."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Simon peers around the grounds, at the smattering of crew members and staging tents. "What the hell is going on, Henry?"

I clear my throat. "So . . . the thing is . . . I'm sort of . . . filming a reality dating television show here at the castle and we started with twenty women and now we're down to four, and when it's over one of them will get the diamond tiara and become my betrothed. At least in theory."

It sounded so much better in my head.

"D ~ Emma Chase

I was debating what I might have in my deep glassy lake to use - Barrons had slurped down my crimson runes like truffles - when Ryodan called down, "Let her up."
I tipped my head back. The urbane owner of the largest den of sex, drugs, and exotic thrills in the city stood behind the chrome balustrade, big hands closed on the chrome railing, thick wrists cuffed by silver, features darkened by a convenient shadow. He looked like a scarred Gucci model. Whatever kind of life these men had lived before they'd become whatever they were, it had been violent and hard. Like them.
"Why?" Lor demanded.
"I said so."
"Not time for the meeting yet."
"She wants to see her parents. She's going to insist."
"So?"
"She thinks she has something to prove. She's feeling pushy."
"Gee, this is nice. I don't even have to talk," I purred. ~ Karen Marie Moning

These hapless livers were probably not always mere myths, and these legends which traced their spilt blood in the purple bloom of the violet, the scarlet stain of the anemone, or the crimson flush or the rose were no idle poetic emblem of youth and beauty fleeting as the Summer flowers. ~ James George Frazer

Madeline (said the Countess in a solemn voice), in my concern for your father, I spoke unguardedly; and I already repent having done so from the situation I see you in: but, as some atonement for doing so, I will take this opportunity of cautioning you against all imprudent curiosity; let no incentive from it ever tempt you to seek an explanation of former occurrences; be assured your happiness depends entirely on your ignorance of them: was the dark volume of your father's fate ever opened to your view, peace would for ever forsake your breast; for its characters are marked by horror, and stained with blood. ~ Regina Maria Roche

Said the straight man to the late man
Where have you been
I've been here and I've been there
And I've been in between
I talk to the wind
My words are all carried away
I talk to the wind
The wind does not hear
The wind cannot hear ~ King Crimson

I was pissed-off walking. Or rather pissed-off sitting, tangled in crimson silk sheets that smelled like somebody'd been having a sexathon.
That would be me.
And that made me even madder. ~ Karen Marie Moning

And so he came at last to the high seat of Guslav the fifth, High King of the Union. His head was slumped sideways, squashed down under the sparkling crown. His pasty pale fingers twitched on his crimson silk mantle like white slugs. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling gently, accompanied by gentle splutterings as spittle issued from his slack lips and ran down his chin, joining the sweat on his bulging jowls and helping it to turn his high collar dark with wet. Truly, Jezal was in the presence of greatness. "Your ~ Joe Abercrombie

If you'd just told me you wanted her for yourself, I wouldn't have opened my mouth. Asshole."
"He doesn't want me for himself," Melanie said. "He isn't looking for a relationship."
"It doesn't matter if he's looking," Richart grumbled. "He's found one. The two of you can't take your eyes off each other. And in the rare moments you do, you usually touch."
"What?" Bastien said the same time Melanie did.
Was she as appalled that her feelings were so transparent as he was?
"Don't worry." Richart drew out a handkerchief and wiped his crimson lips. "I doubt anyone else has noticed. Bastien is usually too busy pissing them all off."
"He doesn't piss you off?" Melanie asked.
"Other than just now" - Richart glared at Bastien - "no. I've spent enough time in his company that I've become immune to his bullshit. ~ Dianne Duvall

Black would trust her with his secrets. He would protect hers. But did she trust him with her heart? Could she?
She thought of Wendell, and no longer felt any remorse for her feelings. She did not love him. Her heart had been taken two years ago, by a stranger she thought she had conjured up in the atmosphere of her imagination.
He had asked her to trust him - and there was only one way she knew how. She reached into the wardrobe and pulled out the crimson gown.
No regrets. No seduction. No scandal. Only love. ~ Charlotte Featherstone

Love, that is day and night - love, that is sun and moon and stars, Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume, no other words but words of love, no other thought but love. ~ Walt Whitman

The silky swirl of his tongue in the hollow of her navel sent fire licking through her veins. Hazily aware of the area his mouth was traversing, she stirred beneath him.
Not seeming to realize just where he was kissing her, Matthew persisted, sliding lower until Daisy let out a muffled yelp and pushed hard at his encroaching head.
"What is it?" he asked, rising to his elbows.
Crimson with mortification, Daisy could hardly bring herself to explain. "You were too close to my…well, you accidentally…"
As her voice faded, understanding dawned in Matthew's eyes. Quickly he bent his head to hide his expression, and a tremor ran through his shoulders. He replied with great care, still looking away from her. "It wasn't accidental. I meant to do that."
Daisy was astonished. "But you were going to kiss me right on my - " She broke off as his gaze met hers, laughter dancing in his blue eyes.
He wasn't embarrassed at all - he was amused.
"You're not shocked, are you?" he asked. "I thought you were well read."
"Well, no one would ever write about something like that."
He shrugged, his eyes glowing. "You're the literary authority."
"You're making fun of me," she said.
"Just a little," he whispered, and kissed her stomach again. Her legs jerked against his restraining hands. ~ Lisa Kleypas

After a long moment, the Countess sat back down. "So," she said. "You ... do love her. I must say, you look peculiarly resigned to it."
He shrugged. "It is not fresh news for me."
"And for Emma?"
"Neither welcomed nor openly acknowledged."
"But acknowledged all the same, you believe."
"Perhaps," he said. "I cannot know. Not anymore."
-Delphinia, Lady Chad and Julian ~ Meredith Duran

Listeners beware, for ye are doomed never to hear good of yourselves. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

The woman had gasped beneath his heavy body. He rubbed against her, lubricated by the warm, sticky liquid, but as her body gradually grew cold, he felt as though they'd been glued together. She seemed to be see-sawing between agony and ecstasy, but finally Satake pressed his lips over hers to quiet the groans-of pain or pleasure-that were leaking from her mouth. He found the hole that he had made in her side and worked his finger deep into the opening. Blood was pumping from the wound, staining their sex a gruesome crimson. He wanted to get further inside, to melt into her. As he was about to come, he pulled his lips from her and she whispered in his ear: "I'm finished ... finished."
"I know," he'd said, and he could still hear the exact sound of his own voice. ~ Natsuo Kirino

The dowager rose and slipped from her pew. There was the sound of tearing silk as she threw up her arms to embrace her son. Then:
"Oh, Rupert, darling," she exclaimed in tones of theatrical despair, "don't you see? The game's up! ~ Eva Ibbotson

She reminded me of something, and suddenly I knew. I was a tiny child again at Radford, my uncle's home, and he was walking me through the glass-houses in the gardens. There was one flower, an orchid, that grew alone; it was the colour of pale ivory, with one little vein of crimson running through the petals. The scent filled the house, honeyed, and sickly sweet. It was the loveliest flower I had ever seen. I stretched out my hand to stroke the soft velvet sheen, and swiftly my uncle pulled me by the shoulder. 'Don't touch it, child. The stem is poisonous. ~ Daphne Du Maurier

Roland raised his eyebrows. "Thanks to John Farson, the Crimson King's men won the In-World lands long ago," he said. But then he smiled. It was a sunny expression so unlike his usual look that seeing it always made Susannah feel dizzy. "But I think we won the only battle that matters. What's shown in this picture is no more than someone's wishful fairy-tale. ~ Stephen King

Royce understood then why she had come: she had come to finish the task her relatives had begun; to do to him what he had done to her brother. Unmoving, he watched her, noting that tears were pouring down her beautiful face as she slowly bent down. But instead of reaching for his lance or her dagger, she took his hand between both of hers and pressed her lips to it. Through his daze of pain and confusion, Royce finally understood that she was kneeling to him, and a groan tore from his chest: "Darling," he said brokenly, tightening his hand, trying to make her stand, "don't do this…"
But his wife wouldn't listen. In front of seven thousand onlookers, Jennifer Merrick Westmoreland, countess of Rockbourn, knelt before her husband in a public act of humble obeisance, her face pressed to his hand, her shoulders wrenched with violent sobs. By the time she finally arose, there could not have been many among the spectators who had not seen what she had done. Standing up, she stepped back, lifted her tear-streaked face to his, and squared her shoulders.
Pride exploded in Royce's battered being - because, somehow, she was managing to stand as proudly - as defiantly - as if she had just been knighted by a king. ~ Judith McNaught

I'm certain Blackmoor will protect you from anything over unusual, my dear." Alex looked at her companion and tilted her head, pretending to consider the statement before turning back to the countess. "I suppose he'll have to do. ~ Sarah MacLean

His cloak was Lannister crimson, but his surcoat showed the ten purple mullets of his own House arrayed upon a yellow field. ~ George R R Martin

You know,' said Natasha, 'you have read the Gospels a great deal - there is one place there directly about Sonya.' 'What?' asked Countess Marya, surprised. '"To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be taken away." You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I don't know. Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is taken away, and everything has been taken away. Sometimes I feel so terribly sorry for her. I used to want Nicolas to marry her so terribly before; but I always had a sort of presentiment that it would not happen. She is a sterile flower, you know - like some strawberry blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry for her, and sometimes I think she doesn't feel it as you or I would. ~ Leo Tolstoy

Are you mine?" I asked, low knowing the answer already.
"Completely." His voice thrummed with conviction.
And oh, I liked it.
"So I may do anything I wish with you?"
"Anything."
I didn't need his invitation, of course. He belonged to me, like everything in Sheol, but there was more pleasure in a willing slave. I drew my athame and took his hand. He shuddered at my touch because I put a thread of power in it, pulled it through him in a flicker of the darkest pleasure. Soon enough he'd beg for this, unable to perform with anyone else. I knew how to enthrall my lovers. With a faint smile, I pricked the tip of his finger. Not as much pain as he expected, I think, but I drew blood. His gasp aroused me. His blood welled like a crimson jewel and I took his fingertip between my lips, tasting him. Learning his secrets. ~ Ann Aguirre

There were glamorous young men with dyed hair who rustled like old cellophane. Older men had airs of sophistication and cold grace, giving the impression that if they were not so terribly tired they would go to places (known only to a select few) where the conversation was more scintillating and the congregation more interesting.

There were young women who had the exotic sheen of recently fed forest animals. Although they moved their fine heads languorously this way and that, nothing in the room excited their appetites. Unfashionable red lips cut across their white faces, and the crimson fingernails, as pointed as surgical instruments, heightened the predatory effect. Older, sadder women were more interesting to me. Voluminous skirts and imported shawls did not hide their heavy bodies, nor was their unattractiveness shielded by the clanks of chains and ribbons of beads, or by pale pink lips and heavily drawn doe eyes. Their presence among the pretty people enchanted me. It was like seeing frogs buzzed by iridescent dragonflies. ~ Maya Angelou

Those can most easily dispense with society who are the most calculated to adorn it; they only are dependent on it who possess no mental resources, for though they bring nothing to the general mart, like beggars, they are too poor to stay at home. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

When Elizabeth is old enough to ask questions, I'll tell her that her father...my husband, Lord Baldevar, is a good man, one she should be proud to call Father. ~ Trisha Baker