Iris And Raphael Quotes

Her gaze dropped to the right side of his mouth, to the corner of his lip that was permanently pulled into a slight snarl by the edge of the angry scar, and then to the other side of his mouth, to the sensuous curve of his lips. She raised her hand, reaching out to touch that perfect curl. She stilled, her hand hovering, as the sunlight glinted off the ruby ring on her finger. It was a pretty little ring, delicate and made for a woman. In any other circumstances she would've worn it with happiness.
Here, though... Well it was almost a mark of possession, wasn't it?
Iris inhaled and jerked her hand back before she made contact. This man might be her 'husband' now- courtesy of a series of terrible events and his own stubbornness, but he was still a stranger.
A stranger she wasn't even sure she could entirely trust. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

For a moment she studied the sketch. It had been done in pencil and the artist was very skilled. The single sharp line that edged her nose, the delicate shading on her bottom lip, the suggestion of light reflected off her forehead.
In the sketch she lay asleep and peaceful- and beautiful. Iris had never thought of herself as beautiful. That word was for the lauded belles of society. The women who walked into ballrooms and made conversations stop.
But in this sketch she was beautiful.
And in the corner were the initials R.d' C.
This was how he saw her. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

His nostrils flared just a little bit, and the lines bracketing his mouth grew deeper. He snarled with his beautiful, twisted lips and she thought, half on the edge of falling again, she thought he looked like a demon making love to her. A demon fighting for his life or light or possibly redemption. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Do you remember that I said I have something to show you?"
Back when they were entering the house. Before she'd seen Hugh. Before their argument. "Yes?"
He pushed open the door to her bedroom. "Look."
She went inside and saw Valente sitting on the floor in front of her fireplace with a basket. He had a silly grin on his face.
She glanced over her shoulder to Raphael. "What-?"
Her husband tilted his chin toward Valente and the basket. "Go and see."
At the same time she heard an animal whimper.
Her lips parted and she picked up her skirts to hurry to the basket. It was lined with a soft blanket and inside was the sweetest little blond puppy, looking very sorry for itself.
Iris stared, torn. Did Raphael think a 'puppy' would be an adequate substitution for him?
The moment the puppy saw her it began whimpering and yipping, trying to climb from its wicker prison, but its legs were too short to make the attempt and it ended by falling backward, revealing that it was female.
It was hardly the puppy's fault that she was angry with Raphael.
"Oh," Iris breathed, sinking to her knees on the carpet opposite Valente. "She's perfect."
Somehow the words made tears start in her eyes again.
She picked up the puppy, which wriggled in Iris's hands until she held the small animal against her chest. The puppy promptly began licking Iris's chin with a tiny pink tongue.
Iris looked up at Raphael through her tears. "What is her ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

His duchess caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she carefully poured warm water over his hair. Her lips were very pink. Plump, with a prominent Cupid's bow on the upper one. Her mouth gleamed softly with moisture.
His eyelids dropped as he considered what he wanted to do with that mouth.
She was working soap into his hair now with strong, slim fingers that massaged his scalp.
He clenched his jaw to keep from groaning.
She scrubbed backward through his hair, stroking, pressing, and he found his eyes closing like a lazy cat's. He'd not been touched like this by another since...
Well. Not for a very long time. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She moaned, long and low, wanting to arch, to thrash, to scream. Instead she opened her mouth and bit his shoulder, tasting salt.
Tasting want.
Then she gasped. "Please."
"What do you want?" he whispered in her ear, an incubus, dark and alive and in her. "Tell me. What do you need?"
"I..." Her mouth opened, wordless.
"Tell me," his smoky voice curled around her.
"You."
He chuckled, dark and low. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I want to make you weep. I want all your pleasure, Iris, all your pain, everything you are. Come for me."
And she felt herself bow with the stark white bliss of her epiphany, the shattering realization of his words and his hands and his mouth. She was gasping for breath, shaking, lost, unseeing. The center of her being pulsing with pleasure. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

[Iris] squeezed his hand. Don't lose hope, Frank. Rainbows always stand for hope. ~ Rick Riordan

Our people would rather go honorably in a fight against evil than cower under its hand." Raphael took a long, deep breath, his shoulders straightening and his head rising. "No one," he vowed, "will ever subjugate those who are our own. Never will we surrender. ~ Nalini Singh

I never felt pretty. I don't feel pretty now. I'm not a pretty person. I don't like pretty. So I don't feel badly. And I think it worked out well, because I found that all the girls I know who got by on their looks, as time went on and they faded, they were nothing. And they were very disappointed. When you're somebody like myself, in order to get around and be attractive, you have to develop something, you have to learn something, you have to do something. So you become a bit more interesting. ~ Iris Apfel

You've obviously never been in love."

"I have actually. And awfully. And - always - without hope - I've never had my love reciprocated ever. ~ Iris Murdoch

In America, it has been proven that the bulk of spending money is in the hands of women between 60 and 80, so it's so stupid. The people who do have the time and money to shop are either retired or empty-nesters. ~ Iris Apfel

Caitlyn, s'il vous plait!" Madame said, whacking the blackboard with her stick, its end pointing to the irregular verb devoir, "to have to." She
wanted Caitlyn to conjugate it.
Caitlyn felt the class's attention turn to her, and a clammy sweat broke out in her armpits. Her brain stopped in its tracks, unable to move under
the pressure. A vague sense of having known how to speak French in her dreams tickled at her brain, but the skill was as lost to her in the waking
world as was Raphael.
"Devoir," Caitlyn croaked. "Er. Je dev? Tu dev?"
Madame gaped at her, horrified.
Caitlyn shook her head; she knew those words were wrong. "Er … I mean, uh …" And then out of nowhere came, "Egli deve, lei dovrebbe …"
These words felt right. He must, she must …
Several girls burst into laughter.
"What?" Caitlyn demanded.
"You're speaking Italian!" one girl shrieked, and collapsed into hysterical giggles. ~ Lisa Cach

There was a shadowy light, not exactly twilight, but an uncertain vivid yet hazy illumination, wherein people walked like spirits, bathed in light and not revealed. ~ Iris Murdoch

The self, the place where we live, is a place of illusion. Goodness is connected with the attempt to see the unself, to see and to respond to the real world in the light of a virtuous consciousness. This is the non-metaphysical meaning of the idea of transcendence to which philosophers have so constantly resorted in their explanations of goodness. 'Good is a transcendent reality' means that virtue is the attempt to pierce the veil of selfish consciousness and join the world as it really is. It is an empirical fact about human nature that this attempt cannot be entirely successful. ~ Iris Murdoch

Charlotte: Giordano is terribly afraid Gwyneth will get everything wrong tomorrow that she can get wrong.
Gideon: Pass the olive oil, please.
Charlotte: Politics and history are a closed book to Gwyneth. She can't even remember names - they go in at one ear and straight out of the other. She can't help it, her brain doesn't have the capacity. It's stuffed with the names of boy bands and long, long cast lists of actors in soppy romantic films.
Raphael: Gwyneth is your time-traveling cousin, right? I saw her yesterday in school. Isn't she the one with long dark hair and blue eyes?
Charlotte: Yes, and that birthmark on her temple, the one that looks like a little banana.
Gideon: Like a little crescent moon.
Raphael: What's that friend of hers called? The blonde with freckles? Lily?
Charlotte: Lesley Hay. Rather brighter than Gwyneth, but she's a wonderful example of the way people get to look like their dogs. Hers is a shaggy golden retriever crossbreed called Bertie.
Raphael: That's cute!
Charlotte: You like dogs?
Raphael: Especially golden retriever crossbreeds with freckles.
Charlotte: I see. Well, you can try your luck. You won't find it particularly difficult. Lesley gets through even more boys than Gwyneth.
Gideon: Really? How many . . . er, boyfriends has Gwyneth had?
Charlotte: Oh, my God! This is kind of embarrassing. I don't want to speak ill of her, it's just that she's not very discriminating. Particula ~ Kerstin Gier

A statue isn't built from the ground up - it's chiseled out of a block of marble - and I often wonder if we aren't likewise shaped by the qualities we lack, outlined by the empty space where the marble used to be. ~ Raphael Bob-Waksberg

I want you to be able to see me, and as my love for you is so much of me (all of me, making me more than myself) then you must see that too. ~ Iris Murdoch

Four and I stay behind. I wait until the room is empty and the door is shut before looking at him again. He walks towards me. "Is your-" he begins. "You did that on purpose!" I shout. "Yes, I did," he says quietly. "And you should thank me for helping you." I grit my teeth. "Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?" "You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!" He glares at me, and even when he glares, his eyes looks thoughtful. Their shade of blue is peculiar, so dark it is almost black, with a small patch of lighter blue on the left iris, right next to the corner of his eye. ~ Veronica Roth

The most potent and sacred command which can be laid upon any artist is the command: wait. ~ Iris Murdoch

I sometimes used to ask myself, what on earth did I love her for? Maybe fore the warm hazel iris of her fluffy eyes, or for the natural side-wave of her brown hair, done anyhow, or again for that movement of her plump shoulders. But, probably the truth was that I loved her because she loved me. To her I was the ideal man: brains, pluck. And there was none dressed better. I remember once, when I first put on that new dinner jacket, with the vast trousers, she clapsed her hands, sank down on a chair and murmured: 'Oh, Hermann ... It was ravishment bordering upon something like heavenly woe. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

What we really are seems much more like an obscure system of energy out of which choices and visible acts of will emerge at intervals in ways which are often unclear and often dependent on the condition of the system in between moments of choice. ~ Iris Murdoch

Raphael pulled out a paperback and handed it to me. The cover, done back in the time when computer-aided imagine manipulation had risen to the level of art, featured an impossibly handsome man, leaning forward, one foot in a huge black boot resting on the carcass of some monstrous sea creature. His hair flowed down to his shoulders in a mane of white gold, in stark contrast to his tanned skin and the rakish black patch hiding his left eye. His white, translucent shirt hung open, revealing abs of steel and a massive, perfectly carved chest graced by erect nipples. His muscled thighs strained the fabric of his pants, which were unbuttoned and sat loosely on his narrow hips, a touch of a strategically positioned shadow hinting at the world's biggest boner.
The cover proclaimed in loud golden letters: The Privateer's Virgin Mistress, by Lorna Sterling.
"Novel number four for Andrea's collection?" I guessed.
Raphael nodded and took the book from my hands. "I've got the other one Andrea wanted, too. Can you explain something to me?"
Oh boy. "I can try."
He tapped the book on his leather-covered knee. "The pirate actually holds this chick's brother for ransom, so she'll sleep with him. These men, they aren't real men. They're pseudo-bad guys just waiting for the love of a 'good' woman."
"You actually read the books?"
He gave me a chiding glance. "Of course I read the books. It's all pirates and the women they steal, apparently so they can enjoy lo ~ Ilona Andrews

To guard themselves is the way of people whose instinct is to nurture and protect. ~ Iris Johansen

I became interested in genocide, because it happened so many times. It happened to the Armenians and after the Armenians, Hitler took action. ~ Raphael Lemkin

Hey," said a soft voice.
Emma turned to see a boy with wavy hair and light brown skin looking at them with a mixture of annoyance and - no, it was mostly just annoyance.
"Raphael Santiago?" she said. ~ Cassandra Clare

Or was some act of revenge still pending, some thunderbolt long cherished and prepared? ~ Iris Murdoch

This is an age of demons and amoral angels and all sorts of deep fears, like the first centuries of the Christian era, it's an age of extreme solutions. ~ Iris Murdoch

It is intended to signify a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of annihilating the groups themselves. The objectives of such a plan would be the disintegration of the political and social institutions, of culture, language, national feelings, religion, and the economic existence of national groups, and the destruction of the personal security, liberty, health, dignity, and even the lives of the individuals belonging to such groups. ~ Raphael Lemkin

Some of the plants have obituary names: Iris, Basil, Rue, Rosemary, and Verbena. Some, like meadowsweet and cowslips, sweet flag and spikenard, are like the names of Shakespeare fairies. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

The party of God and the party of Literature have more in common than either will admit their texts may conflict, but their bigotries coincide. Both insist on being the sole custodians of the true word and its only interpreters. ~ Frederic Raphael

We're just living on our emotions and eating each other. ~ Iris Murdoch

His heart ached in such a familiar way, and the very familiarity of it pained him. ~ Iris Murdoch

There is nothing opposed in Biometry and Mendelism. Your husband and I worked that out at Peppards [on the Chilterns] and you will see it referred in the Biometrika memoir. The Mendelian formula leads up to the 'ancestral law'. What we fought against was the slovenliness in applying Mendel's categories and asserting that such formulae apply in cases when they did not. ~ Karl Pearson

And so," Andreas murmured, "I could've been the one who won a woman so unique that she charms beings old beyond time."
"Nope. You aren't Raphael. ~ Nalini Singh

We are such inward secret creatures, that inwardness the most amazing thing about us, even more amazing than our reason. but we cannot just walk into the cavern and look around. most of what we think we know about our minds is pseudo-knowledge. we are all such shocking poseurs, so good at inflating the importance of what we think we value. ~ Iris Murdoch

The life of faith is less about gathering information than it is about expanding imagination. The movement Jesus started was a movement of dreamers and visionaries, not a movement of academics and theologians. ~ Erwin Raphael McManus

I felt so ashamed with them because everything in their life was going so well and they were so sort of successful. I couldn't talk about what I wanted with them and they were always in a hurry. ~ Iris Murdoch

He had never dreamed anyone would ever care enough to venture into the darkness to pull him into the light. He felt bewildered and awkward and filled with a strange sense of wonder. And a stranger sense of grace. ~ Iris Johansen

... And when the time comes to choose yet another dream, I shall smile knowing that I had a life with no less challenges than others, but I chose to respond to them with love. ~ Raphael Zernoff

What is your idea of you? Who is it that you have decided to become? If your greatest work of art is the life you live, and ultimately life is a creative act, what life will you choose to leave behind as your masterpiece? ~ Erwin Raphael McManus

He granted its due share to everything equally, drawing from everything only what was beautiful in it, and in the end left himself only the divine Raphael as a teacher. So a great poetic artist, having read many different writings filled with much delight and majestic beauty, in the end might leave himself, as his daily reading, only Homer's Iliad, having discovered that there is nothing that has not already been reflected in its profound and great perfection. ~ Nikolai Gogol

There were moments of despondency when Shakespeare thought himself no poet, and Raphael no painter; when the greatest wits have doubted the excellence of their happiest efforts. ~ Charles Caleb Colton

I've somehow run myself into hell. There must be many entrances. ~ Iris Murdoch

But I've got a kind of misery that makes me blind and deaf. You wouldn't understand. You live in the open with all of you spread out around you. I'm mangled in a machine. Even to say it's my own fault doesn't mean anything. ~ Iris Murdoch

Amo amas amat amamus amatis amant amavi amavisti amavit amavimus amavistis amaverunt amavero amaveris amaverit… Everything was love. Everything will be love. Everything has been love. Everything would be love. Everything would have been love. Ah, that was it, the truth at last. Everything would have been love. The huge eye, which had become an immense sphere, was gently breathing, only it was not an eye nor a sphere but a great wonderful animal covered in little waving legs like hairs, waving oh so gently as if they were under water. All shall be well and all shall be well said the ocean. So the place of reconciliation existed after all, not like a little knot hole in a cupboard but flowing everywhere and being everything. I had only to will it and it would be, for spirit is omnipotent only I never knew it, like being able to walk on the air. I could forgive. I could be forgiven. I could forgive. Perhaps that was the whole of it after all. Perhaps being forgiven was just forgiving only no one had ever told me. There was nothing else needful. Just to forgive. Forgiving equals being forgiven, the secret of the universe, do not whatever you do forget it. The past was folded up and in the twinkling of an eye everything had been changed and made beautiful and good. ~ Iris Murdoch

Coffee, unless it is very good and made by somebody else, is pretty intolerable at any time. ~ Iris Murdoch

Wyatt Christiansen is the client."
Iris tensed at his words. Hearing Wyatt's name from her boss completely threw her off balance. If Wyatt wanted to hire Red Stone that meant he needed extra security. She hated the thought of him in danger.
Without giving her a chance to respond, Harrison barreled on. "I don't like the idea of you guarding him, especially since I found out you two are fucking married. It goes against protocol, but...my father owes him a favor and he's apparently collecting. ~ Katie Reus

..you can't just break through a person's defenses like thatl the defenses are a part of the person, they are the person. It's our nature to have hidden depths. It's like...skinning a frog and saying, 'Now I understand this frog, because I've seen what's inside it.' But when you skin it, it dies. You haven't understood a frog, you've understood a corpse. ~ Raphael Carter

The priesthood is a marriage. People often start by falling in love, and they go on for years without realizing that love must change into some other love which is so unlike it that it can hardly be recognized as love at all. ~ Iris Murdoch