Five Finger Death Punch Quotes

I'm begging for forgiveness, everything I've done, If God is listening, He knows I'm not the only one ~ Five Finger Death Punch

Piece by piece,
I slowly fade away,
I slowly drift apart. ~ Five Finger Death Punch

I feel like running away
I'm still so far from home
You say that I'll never change
But what the fuck do you know? ~ Five Finger Death Punch

If there was no Tomorrow
if there was just Today
Would you make different Choices
Or would you stay the Same ~ Five Finger Death Punch

I will not be forgotten
This is my time to shine
I've got the scars to prove it
Only the strong survive
I'm not afraid of dying
Everyone has their time
Life never favored weakness
Welcome to the pride ~ Five Finger Death Punch

I can't believe in something that doesn't believe in me!
-Salvation ~ Five Finger Death Punch

Its always do this do that everthing they want i dont want to live that way every chance they get there always pushin me away ~ Five Finger Death Punch

I'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell. ~ IVAN MOODY, JEREMY SPENCER, KEVIN CHURKO, THOMAS JASON GRINSTEAD, ZOLTAN BATHORY

Everybody needs some real rock in their lives ... whether it's bands like ourselves, Aerosmith or Stones ... or new bands like Five Finger Death Punch, Avenged Sevenfold ... it's out there. ~ Nikki Sixx

I tried to look the other way
But I couldn't turn around
It's OK for you to hate me
For all the things I've done
I've made a few mistakes
But I'm not the only one ~ Five Finger Death Punch

Did you hear the one about me giving a shit? 'Cause if I ever did I don't remember it! ~ Five Finger Death Punch

Was there ever any question on how much I could take? You kept feeding me your bullshit hoping I would break. ~ Five Finger Death Punch

Married, married. My ring on your finger. Yours on mine. Till death do us part," he rattles off. "Come on Mabes, it's the next logical step. We've been living together for long enough. It's time to make an honest man out of me."
"We've been living together for five hours," I say, looking at the clock.
He shrugs. "When it's right, it's right. ~ Lily Morton

Do you fancy catching a movie at the Sturbridge Theater tonight? That new Robert Pattinson movie is showing," I ask her, the phone cradled against my chest.
"Definitely sign me up for that!" Ari replies, chuckling as I mock scowl. Her easy laugh warms my soul.
"We're in," I tell Gil, arranging to meet him and his date in the diner later.
"So, who is it this time?" Ari asks, resting her chin in her hands. "Anyone we know?"
Considering I can count the girls on one hand who have enjoyed more than one date with Gil, I doubt it'll be someone familiar. "I didn't ask; guess we'll find out soon enough."
"Five bucks says it's a blonde," Ari quips.
"That's one bet I'm not taking," I admit, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. "Gil's penchant for blondes is world-renowned. ~ Siobhan Davis

Where are you taking me?" Andrew demanded, whirling on the Ferryman. His muscles tensed, hands curling in and out of fists.
"To my master." The voice was ghostly, whispers of black ash and death, words cold and detached.
He had an idea who that was but asked anyway: "And who is your master?"
No answer came.
Andrew's insatiable rage rose up and swallowed his grief like a yawning ocean mouth, the darkest depths surging to the surface to form a mighty tidal wave. He closed the distance and seized the Ferryman's gaunt wrist. There was no substance, no life beneath the cloak. The Ferryman slowly turned his hooded head, and Andrew found himself looking into the black hole of a self-contained night. The olfactory of decay was a punch in the face. Andrew released the Ferryman's wrist and hastily stepped back, rocking the boat as he put distance between him and the unnatural wind spilling from the gaping orifice. Andrew shivered, the tiny hairs on his neck saluting. The cloaked head faced forward again, and the wind died away. ~ Laura Kreitzer

Music can be appreciated from several points of view: the listener, the performer, the composer. In mathematics there is nothing analogous to the listener; and even if there were, it would be the composer, rather than the performer, that would interest him. It is the creation of new mathematics, rather than its mundane practice, that is interesting. Mathematics is not about symbols and calculations. These are just tools of the tradequavers and crotchets and five-finger exercises. Mathematics is about ideas. In particular it is about the way that different ideas relate to each other. If certain information is known, what else must necessarily follow? The aim of mathematics is to understand such questions by stripping away the inessentials and penetrating to the core of the problem. It is not just a question of getting the right answer; more a matter of understanding why an answer is possible at all, and why it takes the form that it does. Good mathematics has an air of economy and an element of surprise. But, above all, it has significance. ~ Ian Stewart

She opens her eyes.

"Adelina?" she whispers, blinking. And all I can see before me is the little sister who used to braid my hair, who sang to me and whimpered under the stairs, who bandaged my broken finger and came to me when the thunder rolled outside. She is my sister, always, even in death, even beyond.

My heart twists again as I think of what I am doing, and I choke back a sob. Oh, Magiano. I will miss all the days we will never have, all the moments we will never share. Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.

I open my mouth. I mean to tell my sister I'm sorry, sorry I couldn't save her in the mountains, sorry I didn't listen to her, I didn't tell her more often that I loved her. I am ready to say a thousand words.

But I say none of them. Instead, I say, "The deal is done."

A faint glow encircles Violetta. The pillar vanishes. She sucks in a deep gasp of air, then falls to her knees. She is alive. ~ Marie Lu

It turns out that (he) has a condition known as micropenis. This means his penis is less than three inches long, fully erect. It looks like a large clitoris, sticking out above two balls.
"Suck my big, fat cock, " he tells me. "You like that big dick?"
I am dizzy. I am literally dizzy. I was so shocked to encounter the micropenis and now am even more shocked to encounter the apparent lack of knowledge about the micropenis. I grip it in my hand, and it's lost, so I use my thumb and index finger to jerk it.
"Yeah, " he says. "Yeah, man, stroke that long, hard cock. Work it."
I am now engaged in what I consider volunteer work. I am jerking him off purely out of pity. This is really no different from donating five percent of my paycheck to United Way every month, and it occurs to me that maybe now I don't need to give to the United Way and instead can keep the cash for myself for dating, which I am obviously going to have to do quite a bit more of. ~ Augusten Burroughs

Look around. The hantavirus is waiting for you. Ebola and the tropical rainforest is cooking up all kinds of brews to make sure that the population is kept in control. All these things are necessary. Why is there an increase in sexual deviance right now? Because it goes against procreative sex. Mother Nature does not want more children. This is not a time of birth. It is not a time to give birth, it's a time to die. The Bible says all things under heaven and that includes death as well as life. You out there, you comfortable ones, you point the finger. You say the junkie is the problem, you say the sexual deviant, serial killer, racist, and the man who hates his fellow man is the problem. But they ain't the problem. You're the problem. The sexual deviant, the murderer, the serial killer, the taker of human life is the cure, you're the problem. ~ Joe Coleman

Some Greek idiot believed the ring finger on the left hand had an artery that led straight to the heart. And they bought it. How such an intelligent species could be so uninformed about their own physiology for so much of their existence was beyond me. Humans scoffed at the idea of gods and turned their backs on us, leaving us all to die. Yet some ridiculous notion that wearing a chunk of metal on a certain finger bound two souls until death stuck. Figures. ~ Kaitlin Bevis

Well, listen then. On the other side, fresh young lives thrown away for want of help and by thousands, on every side! A hundred thousand good deeds could be done and helped, on that old woman's money which will be buried in a monastery! Hundreds, thousands perhaps, might be set on the right path; dozens of families saved from destitution, from ruin, from vice, from the Lock hospitals - and all with her money. Kill her, take her money and with the help of it devote oneself to the service of humanity and the good of all. What do you think, would not one tiny crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds? For one life thousands would be saved from corruption and decay. One death, and a hundred lives in exchange - it's simple arithmetic! Besides, what value has the life of that sickly, stupid, ill-natured old woman in the balance of existence! No more than the life of a louse, of a black-beetle, less in fact because the old woman is doing harm. She is wearing out the lives of others; the other day she bit Lizaveta's finger out of spite; it almost had to be amputated. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Rising, the woman who had carried the jar began to dance to the music of the rebab, fevered music that was like to the flashing of the recurved blade she flourished aloft. Ever the chimings of the red-gold finger cymbals slipped through, around, and over the exigent strains, and in a minute or three (though it had grown dark) the fluting notes of a syrinx joined them, an eerie piping, more distant far in time than space, that railed against death and the desert, and like a child forlorn sobbed of wildflowers. "Flitting ~ Gene Wolfe

An enormous urn of coffee was being put to use by both cops and servers. One of her own uniforms was helping himself to a tray of fancy finger food and another was already hitting the dessert cart.

It only took her presence to have the room falling into stillness, and silence.

"Officers, if you can manage to tear yourselves away from the all-you-can-eat buffet, take posts outside the doors of both kitchen exits. As cause of death has not yet been officially called, I'll remind you that you're stuffing evidence in your faces. If necessary, I'll have you both cut open so that evidence can be removed. ~ J.D. Robb

He promptly pulled out a cigarette stuck it between his lips and lit it. I reached over and snagged it from between his lips and put it out.
I pointed my index finger at him. "You will not suck on this death stick in my presence," I huffed.

Sloane to Siva ~ Micalea Smeltzer

That was the problem with snide comments; they invariably lost all their punch on repetition. Besides, when facing impending death, what did the odd witticism matter? ~ Lauren Willig

For many years I've been ashamed, mortally ashamed, of having been, even with the best intentions, even at many removes, a murderer in my turn. As time went on I merely learned that even those who were better than the rest could not keep themselves nowadays from killing or letting others kill, because such is the logic by which they live; and that we can't stir a finger in this world without the risk of bringing death to somebody. ~ Albert Camus

One finger cannot lift a feather, but five can lift a rock. ~ Matshona Dhliwayo

Van Gogh was a complete nut job! Can you imagine in this day and age, if an artist or writer that you were going to sign or host an exhibit for had just cut off their freaking EAR and mailed it to their unrequited love? Talk about a PR nightmare. No one would be willing to work with that mess – seriously! How would you feel if you were told, "Hey, umm, your next writer just cut her own finger off? No big deal. She's all right."

As artists, we're all kind of odd in our own ways. I think that should be celebrated and more appreciated – I'm not saying that more people should start to cut off their ears or fingers or other appendages – but for god's sake, stop censoring everyone to death. It makes me sick. ~ Kelly Fitzharris Coody

As the nation groped to understand the enormity of their loss, the need to apportion blame was the inevitable handmaiden of their grief. Before it was discovered that the driver was drunk and speeding, it was the notorious paparazzi who were in the dock. Speaking from South Africa, Earl Spencer was the first to point a finger. Visibly angered by the waste of his sister's life he said: 'I always believed the press would kill her in the end. But not even I could imagine that they would take such a direct hand in her death as seems to be the case. It would appear that every proprietor and editor of every publication that has paid for intrusive and exploitative photographs of her, encouraging greedy and ruthless individuals to risk everything in pursuit of Diana's image, has blood on their hands today.'
He went on: 'Finally the one consolation is that Diana is now in a place where no human being can ever touch her again. I pray that she rests in peace. ~ Andrew Morton

Dr. R scratches out a note on his pad.
"Losing you both was only the practice pain, wasn't it? For my mum and dad ... "
He puts his finger on his lips, his elbow at his chest, not racked with cancer. "Yes."
"And when that happens, this will seem like nothing."
He nods.
"When it happens," he asks me, "what will get you through?"
"Friends who love me."
"And if your friends weren't there?"
"Music through headphones."
"And if the music stopped?"
"A sermon by Rabbi Wolpe."
"If there was no religion?"
"The mountains and the sky."
"If you leave California?"
"Numbered streets to keep me walking."
"If New York falls into the ocean?"
Your voice in my head. ~ Emma Forrest

Death strode away, stopped, and came back. He pointed a skeletal finger at The Duck Man.
WHY, he said, ARE YOU WALKING AROUND WITH THAT DUCK?
"What duck?"
AH. SORRY. ~ Terry Pratchett

My friend has never been to a picture show, nor does she intend to: "I'd rather hear you tell the story, Buddy. That way I can imagine it more. Besides, a person my age shouldn't squander their eyes. When the Lord comes, let me see him clear." In addition to never having seen a movie, she has never: eaten in a restaurant, traveled more than five miles from home, received or sent a telegram, read anything except funny papers and the Bible, worn cosmetics, cursed, wished someone harm, told a lie on purpose, let a hungry dog go hungry. Here are a few things she has done, does do: killed with a hoe the biggest rattlesnake ever seen in this county (sixteen rattles), dip snuff (secretly), tame hummingbirds (just try it) till they balance on her finger, tell ghost stories (we both believe in ghosts) so tingling they chill you in July, talk to herself, take walks in the rain, grow the prettiest japonicas in town, know the recipe for every sort of oldtime Indian cure, including a magical wart remover. ~ Truman Capote

Situation is. The flight engineer points to the empty fuel gauge, and makes a throat-cutting gesture with his finger.* But he says nothing. Nor does anyone else for the next five minutes. There's radio chatter and routine business, and then the flight engineer cries ~ Malcolm Gladwell

Everyone's talking about the death and disappearance of the book as a format and an object. I don't think that will happen. I think whatever happens, we have to figure out a way to protect our imaginations. Stories and poetry do that. You need a language in this world. People want words, they want to hear their situation in language, and find a way to talk about it. It allows you to find a language to talk about your own pain.
If you give kids a language, they can use it. I think that's what these educators fear. If you really educate these kids, they aren't going to punch you in the face, they are going to challenge you with your own language. ~ Jeanette Winterson

The first time I saw adult chimpanzees in these five-by-five foot cages ... tears began to trickle down under my mask, and [JoJo, a chimp,] just reached out this gentle finger and wiped them away ... And then the veterinarian came. He knelt down beside me and put his arm around me. He said, I have to face this every day. ~ Jane Goodall

Try not to breathe," I tell Lira. "It might get stuck halfway out."
Lira flicks up her hood. "You should try not to talk then," she retorts. "Nobody wants your words being preserved for eternity."
"They're pearls of wisdom, actually."
I can barely see Lira's eyes under the mass of dark fur from her coat, but the mirthless curl of her smile is ever-present. It lingers in calculated amusement as she considers what to say next. Readies to ricochet the next blow.
Lira pulls a line of ice from her hair, artfully indifferent. "If that is what pearls are worth these days, I'll make sure to invest in diamonds."
"Or gold," I tell her smugly. "I hear it's worth its weight."
Kye shakes the snow from his sword and scoffs. "Anytime you two want to stop making me feel nauseated, go right ahead."
"Are you jealous because I'm not flirting with you?" Madrid asks him, warming her finger on the trigger mechanism of her gun.
"I don't need you to flirt with me," he says. "I already know you find me irresistible."
Madrid reholsters her gun. "It's actually quite easy to resist you when you're dressed like that."
Kye looks down at the sleek red coat fitted snugly to his lithe frame. The fur collar cuddles against his jaw and obscures the bottoms of his ears, making it seem as though he has no neck at all. He throws Madrid a smile.
"Is it because you think I look sexier wearing nothing?"
Torik lets out a withering sigh and pinche ~ Alexandra Christo

You understand," Silas says quietly - the words are just for me, but I know Scarlett hears - "I'm ... when I'm twenty-eight, Rosie. You know what this means. I'm dangerous, Rosie."
"You plan on loving me when you're twenty-eight?" I interrupt, uncertain if my question is serious or not.
Silas's eyes widen in surprise. He turns to look out the taxi window for a moment, and when his eyes meet mine again, there's a beautiful sincerity glistening in the gray-blue irises. "Rosie ... I love you. Now, when I'm twenty-eight, when I'm thirty-five ... I love you."
I exhale. "Okay, then."
"But I'm - "
I put a finger against his soft, bow-shaped lips. "Okay, then. ~ Jackson Pearce

I have reveled in my littleness and irresponsibility. It has relieved me of the harassing desire to live, I feel content to live dangerously, indifferent to my fate; I have discovered I am a fly, that we are all flies, that nothing matters. It's a great load off my life, for I don't mind being such a micro-organism - to me the honour is sufficient of belonging to the universe - such a great universe, so grand a scheme of things. Not even Death can rob me of that honour. For nothing can alter the fact that I have lived; I have been I, if for ever so short a time. And when I am dead, the matter which composes my body is indestructible - and eternal, so that come what may to my "Soul," my dust will always be going on, each separate atom of me playing its separate part - I shall still have some sort of a finger in the Pie. When I am dead, you can boil me, burn me, drown me, scatter me - but you cannot destroy me: my little atoms would merely deride such heavy vengeance. Death can do no more than kill you. ~ W.N.P. Barbellion

One finger is powerless, but five form a fist. ~ Matshona Dhliwayo

There are five fundamental qualities that make every team great: communication, trust, collective responsibility, caring and pride. I like to think of each as a separate finger on the fist. Any one individually is important. But all of them together are unbeatable ~ Mike Krzyzewski

Sitting on the divan, she touched a finger to the bullet wound in his chest. It seemed so small, so incapable of creating the exodus of blood which had drenched his clothes and skin as he lay in the hospital, waiting for her to claim him. Death has been instantaneous, they said, as if there were a relief in that. She did not want death to have been instantaneous; she wanted to have at least held his hand as he lay dying and said goodbye to him in terms other than the, 'Why are you doing again? You'll find nothing. Stay. Oh all right, go,' that had been her farewell to him that morning.

Stay. Stay. Stay. She should have repeated it like a madwoman, banged her head against the wall in a frenzy, hit him and wept. She should have said it just one more time, just a little more forcefully. She should have taken his dear, sweet head in her hands and kissed his eyes and forehead. Stay. ~ Kamila Shamsie

She could not rise. But there she lay content. The scent of the bog myrtle and the meadow-sweet was in her nostrils. The rooks' hoarse laughter was in her ears. "I have found my mate," she murmured. "It is the moor. I am nature's bride," she whispered, giving herself in rapture to the cold embraces of the grass as she lay folded in her cloak in the hollow by the pool. "Here I will lie. (A feather fell upon her brow.) I have found a greener laurel than the bay. My forehead will be cool always. These are wild birds' feathers - the owls, the nightjars. I shall dream wild dreams. My hands shall wear no wedding ring," she continued, slipping it from her finger. "The roots shall twine about them. Ah!" she sighed, pressing her head luxuriously on its spongy pillow, "I have sought happiness through many ages and not found it; fame and missed it' love and not known it; life - and behold, death is better. I have known many men and many women," she continued; "none have I understood. It is better that I should lie at peace here with only the sky above me - as the gipsy told me years ago. ~ Virginia Woolf

In the center of a garden reared a tree, glinting golden in the darkness, peppered with flowers that smelled of blood. The great yawning hollows of the trunk invited her in, promising a snug sanctuary. "They will suffocate you like a pillow of sand and you will never emerge alive," a chittering voice cried out. The patterns engraved on the tree's bark dizzied her eyes. "If your finger brushes against them, you'll know true madness." She glanced away from the bark, her eyes caught by a movement in the branches. A squirrel scurried down the trunk towards her. It didn't seem to be bothered that its tail was swathed in flames, or that something had eaten away at half of its rot-black face and torso. Death's pet project bared its teeth at her. "Do you really want to be here? ~ Angela Panayotopulos

I was made to protect you, female. I've claimed you, whether you accept it or not, and it's an honor that I take very seriously. If any male lays an unwanted finger on you, I will break it. If you hunger, I will feed you. If you're cold, then I will warm you with my body. If you're taken from me, then I'll track you. Never doubt my devotion to you." He gripped my head firmly. "I once gave a woman my heart, because that's all I had to give. But you, Silver, you're the pulse that keeps me alive. I was a soft man once, but no more. I don't know if you can accept the man that I've become, because all I have to offer you is my life. I want to shred Tarek apart for the fear he's made you feel when looking at me. He's made you afraid of something that is natural to my kind - an expression of my passion. My fangs are not just weapons." His voice strained and I knew.

I knew.

Denying a part of him was denying him completely. Maybe someday I could look at them without flinching, but it was too soon. They represented power and passion in his world. But in my world, they were death and pain.

I stroked his cheek and he leaned into me and closed his eyes.

"Give me time, Logan."

He slipped his hand behind the nape of my neck and brought his lips close to my ear - words melting into a soft whisper. "I'll wait for you. ~ Dannika Dark

The Angles Of The Frame
1
Many years have passed since the day,
I looked into a mirror, saw a wrinkled face.
I've been disclosed to the bulging sands of my bed.

2
Aeons of breath account for the many veins in my atrium.

3
The bull I breast-fed for many years
And I've submerged into the frame.

4
I knew the justifications were hard,
Hard as against the current of water.
No news from the ambiguous points
something uncommon.
It can't be justified by natural rules,
many years we've been tangled on it.

5
This usurped land is a part of all buried treasure islands
No finger points in any direction.
Lost in the dead-end alleys
Tracing images without a compass.

6
Horse pounding pulse sing endlessly in my blood.
My kinsmen of horses…
Blood-line linked as to rays of a circle
like roots of a tree growing deep on the roof.

7
You can't stop the hands of the clock.
You can't come back to the broken minutes.
The days have been arranged one after another.
The knights have left the game one after another.

8
There was a straw mat where you fell asleep.
I became numb, quite used to the stillness of the house.

9
Was something supposed to get away from the core
to join us?
A century has passed and we still live in this house.


10
Dimensions hav ~ Rosa Jamali

I think it was probably both the coincidence and the beer that made Miralles say at some point that we were going to end up the same, defeated and alone and
punch-drunk in a dead-end city, pissing blood before going into the ring to fight to the death against our own shadows in an empty stadium. ~ Javier Cercas

I dispelled my invisibility for a few seconds in his full view, a finger resting provocatively on my lower lip, giving him a come-hither look under a streetlight. His jaw and the bottle of Żubrówka dropped at the same time. It shattered, drawing his eyes to the sidewalk, and I took the opportunity afforded by his distraction to disappear again.

"That was mean," Oberon said, watching the man look wildly around for me and pawing at his eyes as if to clear them.

Why? I asked. I've done him no harm.

"Yes, you have. You will haunt him for the rest of his life. I know from experience."

You're haunted by someone flashing you on a street corner?

"No. It was a dog park. Atticus and I were just arriving and she was leaving."

Oh, here we go.

"She was so fit and her coat was tightly curled and she had a perfect pouf on the end of her tail like a tennis ball. I saw her for maybe five seconds, until she hopped into a Honda and her human drove her away. And now I can't see a Honda without seeing her."

But that's a good thing, isn't it? Kind of romantic? A vision of perfection you can treasure forever, unspoiled by reality.

"Well, I don't know. In reality I'd like to try spoiling her, if she was in the mood."

Look, Oberon, that man is lonely. He's too skinny and sweaty, and I'm willing to bet you five cows that he's socially awkward or he wouldn't be staggering drunk at this hour. Bu ~ Kevin Hearne

You're trying to spoil me," she murmured, keeping her back to him to hide her reaction to the gift.
"I'm still seducing you." He kissed her shoulder, a smile curling his lips as he pressed them to her flesh.
"Hmm, so what are you after other than what you've had already?" She turned to him, her brow arching as he stared down at her, that sexy little half grin tilting his lips, his gray eyes swirling with whatever emotions he kept within himself.
Didn't he know he already had all of her?
"You - " He touched her nose with his index finger " - have no clue. Now, see how fast you can make me drool with one of those dresses. I'm betting I can hold out all of ten seconds."
"Think you can make it ten seconds, do you?" She fingered a bronze "almost there" dress. So soft and buttery she was certain she'd barely feel it against her flesh. It was short, the back low, the straps strappy, the bodice obviously snug, and low as well.
Seth looked at the dress and swallowed tightly. "Five seconds?" he said faintly.
Her lips twitched. "I'll get dressed."
She pulled the dress from the rack and bent to pick up the strappy high heels that went with it.
"You have matching panties," he said hoarsely. "They have a bow at the back too. ~ Lora Leigh

Fran panicked. "We're all doomed!"
I looked at her and couldn't help but smirk she seemed to
lighten my mood, whilst blackening her own. "But I'm not a spy,
Fran. Neither are you, we're innocent!"
"I know that. You know that. But they are suspicious, all of
them." She made a circle with her finger and pointed her eyes
toward a group of children that all seemed under the age of five.
"Yes." I nodded. "Those children are really on to us. ~ Sophie Wilkinson

Come below for a moment. Please."
"Zephyr, I don't have time t - "
"Bradshaw, do me the courtesy of at least looking at me when I'm talking to you, or I shall punch you in the nose."
His lean jaw twitched, but he folded his arms across his chest and faced her. "What is it, then?"
She took a deep breath. This would have been so much easier in a more intimate setting and if he wasn't glaring at her. "Shaw, I just wanted to say - that is, I mean - I . . . I love you."
Something crossed his expression so swiftly that she couldn't decipher it. But then he very obviously scowled. At her. "You're only saying that now because I bullied you into it."
Oh, that was enough of that. "Idiot. You have no idea how much considering I've been doing. And you have never bullied me into anything. I said I love you because I love you."
He hesitated again. "Very well. Thank you. Now you won't have to worry that you drove me to my death if I don't return."
Zephyr narrowed her eyes. "All you did was say you loved me and then run away. I'm standing here saying it back to you, and all you can do is try to make me into a liar. It's your fault, for surprising me. I don't keep a response to that sort of thing in my pocket, ready for use."
"I know that. And I said thank you. ~ Suzanne Enoch

In the Mountains, they cooked, too.
Joe Godwin made liquor in Muscadine. Moe Shealey made it in Mineral Springs. Junior McMahan had a still in ragland. Fred and Alton Dryden made liquor in Tallapoosa, and Eulis Parker made it on Terrapin Creek. Wayne Glass knew their faces because he drove it, and made more money hauling liquor than he ever made at the cotton mill. He loaded the gallon cans into his car in the deep woods and dodged sheriffs and federal men to get it to men like Robert Kilgore, the bootlegger who sold whiskey from a house in Weaver, about ten minutes south of Jacksonville. "I could haul a hundred and fifty gallons in a Flathead Ford, at thirty-five dollars a load," he said. Wayne lost the end of one finger in the mill, but he was bulletproof when he was running liquor, and only did time once, for conspiracy. "They couldn't catch me haulin' liquor," he said, "so they got me for thinkin' about it. ~ Rick Bragg

When it comes down to it, I'm just a girl who wears those five-finger weird toe shoes. ~ Shailene Woodley

And then, into the fantasy, as into a dream, would come the thought: it's not like this anymore; the world has changed. Just the way, even at that time fully two years after my mother's death, I'd catch myself thinking about her as alive; and would suddenly remember, an admonitory finger of grief upon my breast, that she was gone. ~ Claire Messud

Do you understand what I'm saying?"
shouted Moist. "You can't just go around killing people!"
"Why Not? You Do." The golem lowered his arm.
"What?" snapped Moist. "I do not! Who told you that?"
"I Worked It Out. You Have Killed Two Point Three Three Eight People," said the golem calmly.
"I have never laid a finger on anyone in my life, Mr Pump. I may be–– all the things you know I am, but I am not a killer! I have never so much as drawn a sword!"
"No, You Have Not. But You Have Stolen, Embezzled, Defrauded And Swindled Without Discrimination, Mr Lipvig. You Have Ruined Businesses And Destroyed Jobs. When Banks Fail, It Is Seldom Bankers Who Starve. Your Actions Have Taken Money From Those Who Had Little Enough To Begin With. In A Myriad Small Ways You Have Hastened The Deaths Of Many. You Do Not Know Them. You Did Not See Them Bleed. But You Snatched Bread From Their Mouths And Tore Clothes From Their Backs. For Sport, Mr Lipvig. For Sport. For The Joy Of The Game. ~ Terry Pratchett

The Queen inhales deeply. "Nothing I have attempted has improved the situation. What do you suggest, Nicholas?"

"He needs space to . . . acclimate. Time outside the spotlight to process the scope of his new situation and duties. To learn what he needs to, in his way. And make it his own."

"Space." The Queen taps her finger on the table. "Very well. If space is what the boy needs, then space he shall have."

I'm not sure I like the sound of this.




Two weeks later, I know I don't.

Anthorp Castle.

She sent me to fucking Anthorp Castle.

It's not the middle of nowhere - it's the end of nowhere. On the coast, with jagged cliffs and icy ocean on one side, forest on the other - the nearest thing resembling a town an hour's drive away. This isn't "space"; it's banishment.

"Banishment! Be merciful, say 'death.' For exile hath more terror in his look."

Romeo was a pussy, but at this moment, I feel him. ~ Emma Chase

My friends, if even God's law, written directly by His own finger and full of so much glory that it transfigured Moses' face, is a "ministry of death" to those who try to fulfill it, then these to-do lists, steps, and pieces of ludicrous advice will not produce the fruit we're hoping for. They will not build or protect the family or God's people in the world. They will not glorify Him. They will not make Him smile. They will only breed pride, despair, exhaustion, anger, self-pity, hypocrisy, addiction to introspection, and even abandonment of the faith. ~ Elyse M. Fitzpatrick

I look over at Ed. He's staring out the window giving Leo the thumbs-down. I wait till he's looking at me, then I give him two fingers up. He gives me two fingers back. I give him the middle finger. He gives it back to me. I don't know any more signs, so I make up one. Three fingers. Take that, mister. He sticks up four. I call your four and raise you five. He skips straight to ten and does something with his thumb that disturbs me. I bounce my hands on my lap. Ed bounces his lap right back. ~ Cath Crowley

Let's get going. I don't like being alone out here. The sooner we can blend in with the Imperial population the safer we'll be. It's not hard to cross here," Mari added as they waded through the stream.
"We are fortunate," Alain told her. "It is more difficult downstream."
She felt a shadow cross her mind. "Where that bridge was? Where you almost died?"
"Yes."
"I'm really proud of you for that, but don't do it again. I'm being selfish. I need you." Mari waved one finger at Alain. "Don't be a hero?"
He regarded her impassively. "Even if you need a hero? ~ Jack Campbell

It was almost funny. Life seemed downright accidental in its brevity, and death a punch line to a lousy joke. ~ Maureen Johnson

Bhikkhus, the teaching is merely a vehicle to describe the truth. Don't mistake it for the truth itself. A finger pointing at the moon is not
the moon. The finger is needed to know where to look for the moon, but if you mistake the finger for the moon itself, you will never know
the real moon.
The teaching is like a raft that carries you to the other shore. The raft is needed, but the raft is not the other shore. An intelligent person
would not carry the raft around on his head after making it across to the other shore. Bhikkhus, my teaching is the raft which can help you
cross to the other shore beyond birth and death. Use the raft to cross to the other shore, but don't hang onto it as your property. Do not
become caught in the teaching. You must be able to let it go. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh