Jilted Bride Quotes

He was just drifting off when he heard her soft whisper. "Cooper?"
"Still here." Maybe she'd changed her mind about the sheet. The thought made his body twitch. Yeah, she was going to toss that damn thing aside and roll toward him. She'd wrap that hot little bod tight to his, and he'd
"Thank you." Breanne said very quietly.
He blinked. "Thank you? He slid his hand down to cup himself. Still hard. Nope, he hadn't missed anything ... ~ Jill Shalvis

Oh, I hate him,' she said, and I noticed a flush of colour come into her cheeks and the manner in which the fingers of her left hand dug into her palm, as if she wanted something to take away the pain. 'I absolutely detest him. Afterwards, I didn't feel very much at all for a week or two. I suppose I was in shock. But then the fury rose and it hasn't subsided since. Sometimes I find it difficult to control. I think it was around the time that everyone stopped asking me whether I was all right, when lives went back to how they had been before. Had he been in Dublin I might well have gone over there, broken down his door and stabbed him as he slept. Fortunately for him, he was in Madagascar with his lepers.' (p. 268) ~ John Boyne

Morfyd pulled out the only other chair and sat across from Annwyl. "I have heard much about your brother. It amazes me you still live."
Annwyl began to eat the hearty stew, desperately trying not to think too hard about what kind of meat it contained.
"It amazes me as well. Daily."
"But you saved many people. Released many from his dungeons."
Annwyl shrugged silently as she wondered whether that was gristle she currently chewed on.
"No one else would challenge him. No man would step forward to face him," Morfyd pushed.
"Well, he's my brother. He used to set fire to my hair and throw knives at my head. Facing him in combat was inevitable."
"But you lived under his roof until two years ago. We've all heard the stories about life on Garbhán Isle."
"My brother had other concerns after my father died. He wanted to make sure everyone feared him. He didn't have time to worry about his bastard sister."
"Why didn't he marry you off? He could have forged an alliance with one of the bigger kingdoms." Annwyl briefly thought of Lord Hamish of Madron Province and how close she came to being his bride. The thought chilled her.
"He tried. But the nobles kept changing their minds."
"And did you help them with that?"
She held up her thumb and forefinger, a little bit apart.
"Just a little. ~ G.A. Aiken

I was a dweller amid shadows grim: Till FREEDOM touched my yearning eyes, and lo! Life in a shining circle, rounding rose, As heaven on heaven goes up the jewell'd night. New floods of passionate life swirl'd at my heart, Like Ocean-surges rolling round the world: And FREEDOM was my glittering Bride. ~ Gerald Massey

Sexual intimacy is a relationship, not just body parts coming together. The more comfortable you are with each other outside the bedroom; the easier it is to relax and the sweeter the intimacy! ~ Ngina Otiende

As he wrapped her in white terrycloth, Kyle eyed his lingering hardness. "Again?"
Cole turned his bride to hug her from behind, nuzzling her neck. "I'll have you in my bed next," he said. "I'm going to make love to you so thoroughly that, tomorrow? You'll walk like John Wayne."
Her laughter sounded so free. ~ Debra Anastasia

I understand that you are under a lot of pressure and that it's hard being a bride. That is all well and good. But it does not, ever, entitle you to be rude, selfish, uncaring, and generally obnoxious to me or Haven or anyone else. We've been very patient with you because we're your family and we love you, but it stops here. I don't care if the wedding is two weeks or two hours away, you were never raised to behave this way. ~ Sarah Dessen

The perfect marriage, like the perfect body, is mythical. I never met a woman who's said she has the perfect marriage or the perfect body...There's always something lacking. -- Virgin Bride ~ Jhoomur Bose

The bride nodded and said, 'Of course, but where is the kitchen, the spices, the oil and the vessels? ~ Sudha Murty

CJ's peace was restored.
Momentarily.
"Oh shit shit shit," a woman said. Her voice rippled with the kind of panic CJ expected from the bride today, but her husky undertones were too low for her to be any of his female relatives.
Perhaps the confessional hadn't been a gift from God after all.
"If that's what you need to do, but not right now, please," CJ said.
Her shriek splintered his last hopes for peace. "Ohmigod!" his intruder gasped.
"Not generally, but hey, if that's what you want to call me, I'm game. ~ Jamie Farrell

And buxom, which means only obedient, is now made, in familiar phrases, to stand for wanton; because in an ancient form of marriage, before the Reformation, the bride promised complaisance and obedience, in these terms: "I will be bonair and buxom in bed and at board. ~ Samuel Johnson

Gentlewomen of the jury! Bear with me! Allow me to take just a tiny bit of your precious time. So this was le grand moment. I had left my Lolita still sitting on the edge of the abysmal bed, drowsily raising her foot, fumbling at the shoelaces and showing as she did so the nether side of her thigh up to the crotch of her panties she had always been singularly absent-minded, or shameless, or both, in matters of legshow. This, then, was the hermetic vision of her which I had locked inafter satisfying myself that the door carried no inside bolt. The key, with its numbered dangler of carved wood, became forthwith the weighty sesame to a rapturous and formidable future. It was mine, it was part of my hot hairy fist. In a few minutes say, twenty, say half-an-hour, sicher its sicher as my uncle Gustave used to say I would let myself into that "342" and find my nymphet, my beauty and bride, imprisoned in her crystal sleep. Jurors! If my happiness could have talked, it would have filled that genteel hotel with a deafening roar. And my only regret today is that I did not quietly deposit key "342" at the office, and leave the town, the country, the continent, the hemisphere,indeed, the globe that very same night. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

But ... you're still getting married?" Grover sounded hurt. "Who's the bride?" Ploypemus looked toward the boiling pot. Clarisse made a strangled sound. "Oh, no! You can't be serious. I'm not- ~ Rick Riordan

The hand of a bride becomes the hand of a mother. Ever so gently she cares for her precious child. Bathing, dressing, feeding, comforting-there is no hand like mother's. Nor does its tender care diminish through the years. ~ Thomas S. Monson

O fortunate bride, who never again will become elated after
childbirth!
O lucky older wife, who has been cured of feeling unwanted! ~ Louise Bogan

Trudy rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. "I declare, Seth Flanigan, the longer I know you, the more your sense of humor increases. You barely had any when we first married. Now look at how you act. Being around Frey has brought out the worse in you."
"No, I don't think it's Frey's fault." He winked at Grace. "It's what happiness does to a man." He gave Trudy a gently shove toward the doorway. "Go on with you, now. The Viking awaits his bride. ~ Debra Holland

I don't want you skinny, Bride. I like you as you are." His breath tickled her neck as he spoke and sent heat all over her. "My people have a saying. Meat is for the man, the bone is for the dog." "Yeah, but you're both." "And when given a choice between ribs and steak, I go for top choice every time. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

[Author's Note:] When my grandmother came to the United States from Puerto Rico in the 1940s, she was a beautiful, glamorous woman from a wealthy family in the capital city, and the young bride of a dashing naval officer. She expected to be received as such. Instead, she found that people here had a very reductionist view of what it meant to be Puerto Rican, of what it meant to be Latinx. Everything about her confused her new neighbors: her skin tone, her hair, her accent, her notions. She wasn't what they expected a boricua to be.

My grandmother spent much of her adult life in the States but didn't always feel welcome here. She resented the perpetual gringo misconceptions about her. She never got past that resentment, and the echoes of her indignation still have some peculiar manifestations in my family today. One of the symptoms is me. Always raging against a perceived slight, always fighting against ignorance in mainstream ideas about ethnicity and culture. I'm acutely aware that the people coming to our southern border are not one faceless brown mass but singular individuals, with stories and backgrounds and reasons for coming that are unique. I feel this awareness in my spine, in my DNA.

So I hoped to present one of those unique personal stories - a work of fiction - as a way to honor the hundreds of thousands of stories we may never get to hear. And in so doing, I hope to create a pause where the reader may begin to individuate. When we see migrant ~ Jeanine Cummins

Your definition of 'well' is troubling at best." He suddenly smiled and affected a slight accent. "'I do not think that word means what you think it means.'"
He was obviously quoting something he and Jason seemed to know that she did not.
Jason grinned. "Ha, she ain't a princess, and you wish you were that good a swordsman. ~ Ilona Andrews

I spent hours yesterday talking of little but medical symptoms and insane asylums. And you listened as though it were poetry and all but swooned at my feet. It is too bad I don't have any medical treatises about. I'm sure I need read a paragraph or two, and you will become ravenous with lust and begin tearing my clothes off. (Dorian from "The Mad Earl's Bride") ~ Loretta Chase

Twentyone is too old to go anywhere alone, you know that. I want to go with someone. I don't mean as a bride, I'm not so gauche as that, but as a mistress or paramour or concubine or companion or friend or pal or anything else. I just don't want to be left alone! I want to get out of here!" She said it again for all the wide-faced flowers to hear: "I want to get out of here! ~ Douglas Woolf

Bride and groom are not just two contracting parties but two loving and beloved companions, joined in establishing a home that will be nothing less than a source of immortality. ~ Meir Soloveichik

Inconceivable!"
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means. ~ William Goldman

What the bride should do is call guests who have young children and say: 'I'd love to have the kids at the wedding, but we won't have room. Would you get a baby sitter, and when we get back from our honeymoon, we'll have you guys over?' ~ Letitia Baldrige

The Desire To Paint"

Unhappy perhaps is the man, but happy the artist, who is torn with this desire.
I burn to paint a certain woman who has appeared to me so rarely, and so swiftly fled away, like some beautiful, regrettable thing the traveller must leave behind him in the night. It is already long since I saw her.

She is beautiful, and more than beautiful: she is overpowering. The colour black preponderates in her; all that she inspires is nocturnal and profound.

Her eyes are two caverns where mystery vaguely stirs and gleams; her glance illuminates like a ray of light; it is an explosion in the darkness.

I would compare her to a black sun if one could conceive of a dark star overthrowing light and happiness.

But it is the moon that she makes one dream of most readily; the moon, who has without doubt touched her with her own influence; not the white moon of the idylls, who resembles a cold bride, but the sinister and intoxicating moon suspended in the depths of a stormy night, among the driven clouds; not the discreet peaceful moon who visits the dreams of pure men, but the moon torn from the sky, conquered and revolted, that the witches of Thessaly hardly constrain to dance upon the terrified grass.

Her small brow is the habitation of a tenacious will and the love of prey. And below this inquiet face, whose mobile nostrils breathe in the unknown and the impossible, glitters, with an unspeakable grace, t ~ Charles Baudelaire

When it over, I want to say:all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular,and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
from When the death comes ~ Mary Oliver

I was never the kind of girl who said, "One day, I am going to be a beautiful bride, and I am going to have a family." I wanted to work and support myself and make my parents proud. All I did was work. I did three or four films a year, and felt like I was on a treadmill. Finally I said, "Nothing is exciting to me anymore." So I took six months off, which turned into a year, and said, "God, I don't miss it." That's when all kinds of interesting things crossed my path. ~ Sandra Bullock

Jesus is returning for a bride whose body is in equal proportion to her head. ~ Bill Johnson

We describe a person without compassion as "heartless," and we urge him or her to "have a heart." Our deepest hurts we call "heartaches." Jilted lovers are "brokenhearted." Courageous soldiers are "bravehearted." The truly evil are "black-hearted" and saints have "hearts of gold." If we need to speak at the most intimate level, we ask for a "heart-to-heart" talk. "Lighthearted" is how we feel on vacation. And when we love someone as truly as we may, we love "with all our heart." But when we lose our passion for life, when a deadness sets in which we cannot ... ~ John Eldredge

The exhaustion apparent in his slumped shoulders made her heart twist. He looked so tired she wanted to rub his back and stroke his hair, as a mother would for a child. This was natural compassion, she decided, and walked toward him to give him what comfort she could.
He finally heard her and lifted his head from his arms. Locks of sandy hair fell over his forehead and he looked up at her with deep indigo eyes. Even in the dim light, she could see pain etched across his features. What horrors stalked his dreams? What could she do to help him sleep peacefully?
For a long moment they gazed at one another and then Huiann rested her hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Alan leaned into her body. They came together like two halves of an eggshell carefully broken. He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. His face pressed against her breast. His arms wrapped around her.
She held him, cradling his head, rubbing his back. His body was so warm in her embrace. Her heart beat steadily and her stomach flipped in slow, lazy somersaults. The moment she'd sensed coming for so long was here. What would happen next?
For a long time, they remained locked in perfect union, contented, safe, no longer alone. As she caressed his hair, soft as she'd imagined, he tilted his face to look up at her. His eyes glittered in the lamplight. He wanted more and Huiann realized she did too. ~ Bonnie Dee

Out from the servient shoulders of some smooth-tongued Waiter it stares, into the scared dilating pupils of the White Satin Bride with her pledged hand clutching her Bridegroom's sleeve. Up from the gravelly, pick-and-shovel labor of the new-made grave it lifts its weirdly magnetic eyes to the Widow's tears. Down from some petted Princeling's silver-trimmed saddle horse it smiles its electrifying, wistful smile into the Peasant's sodden weariness. Across the slender white rail of an always out-going steamer it stings back into your gray, land-locked consciousness like the tang of a scarlet spray. And the secret of the face, of course, is "Lure"; but to save your soul you could not decide in any specific case whether the lure is the lure of personality, or the lure of physiognomy - a mere accidental, coincidental, haphazard harmony of forehead and cheek-bone and twittering facial muscles. ~ Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

Men, you'll never be a good groom to your wife unless you're first a good bride to Jesus. ~ Timothy Keller

sweetness on the tongue and a promise of scent on the night air. It was sensual in the best meaning of that word, saturating every sense at once, so that the flesh was known, finally, as a thing of such goodness that man blessed his Creator from morning to night for having made him. Here in this medieval town where once an extraordinary little fellow had burst forth with songs to God, as a passionate lover speaks to his bride, here the restoration of man to his own true home was no longer the dream of saints. It was the wedding feast. It was a word made flesh. ~ Michael D. O'Brien

And now the bride begins to move. Little mechanical doll, clinging to her husband's arm, climbing into the carriage. Her white silk stocking, her elegant shoe. ~ Anne Hebert

I will be no one's bride, neither of man nor of God. ~ Katherine Arden