On The Edge Of Hell Quotes

I clutch to William's hand. "I can do this."
He nods and pulls me tight into his arms. "I know you can. I believe in you."
I hug him tightly. I don't want to lose this ... I don't want this to change anything; I still want to love this man when this is over. "Take care of the others."
He whispers in my ear. "I will." He picks me up and kisses me, deeply and desperately, for a long time. When we finally release our lip lock, we're both in tears. His voice is barely a whisper. "I love you, Alanna."
I stroke his cheek. "I love you." It's the first time we've both said it out loud at the same time. Something about that makes me feel very hopeful, despite the circumstances. ~ Don A. Martinez

He heard a soft voice calling him and turned towards it, trying to focus the vision before him. It wasn't his mother. If he weren't so tired, he would have smiled. He hadn't expected to find an angel in Hell.
The angel, her image blurred, a whiteness surrounding her, would understand. The angel would know.
"Why couldn't she love me?" he asked. The angel's answer was garbled. He strained to understand the words, not all his senses failed him as he slipped back into the abyss on the edge of Hell.
And the angel knelt down beside the bed and wept. ~ Lorraine Heath

Slowly, Cade turned to face her. "Why?" She lifted her hand and saw the blood on her fingertips. "Because you couldn't die for me." He stalked toward her. "I wouldn't have." Well, that seemed harsh. She'd saved his butt. Didn't that count for anything in his mind? His nostrils flared. "Wolves like the scent of blood." So did vampires. He was almost upon her now, and she could see the sharp edge of his canines. "It usually makes us want to attack," he said in that lethal voice of his. Allison barely managed to swallow the lump in her throat as she looked up at him. Don't attack. Down, wolf. Down. ~ Cynthia Eden

It is easy, retrospectively, to endow one's youth with a false precocity or a false innocence; to tamper with the dates marking one's stature on the edge of the door. ~ Evelyn Waugh

Sit Rest Work. Alone with yourself, Never weary. On the edge of the forest Live joyfully, Without desire. ~ Gautama Buddha

Hanging on to the edge
Of this precipice
I feel as though
The beating of my heart
Shall cease
The moment your feet
Hit the ground
And you head toward
The west, head held high…
I burst with joy for you.
But I dread the stillness
Of that lonely heart
At being left behind. ~ Stephanie Rhoads

I'm always interested in trying to stay on the cutting edge of television storytelling. To be slightly in front, pushing for the next new thing. ~ David Nevins

You're a survivor. Voron put you on the edge of that cliff again and again until he conditioned you to claw onto life. You'll do whatever you have to do to survive, and I'm your only chance of getting out. At first you'll balk, but with every passing hour my offer will look better and better. You'll convince yourself that dying will accomplish nothing and you should at least go out with a bang. You'll tell yourself that you're accepting my offer just so you can stick that broken sword into my chest and feel it cut through my heart. Even if you die afterward, the fact that I'll stop breathing makes your death mean something. So you'll call me. And you'll try to kill me. Except you've gone three days without food, and that body . . ." He tilted his head and looked me over slowly. "That body burns through calories like fire goes through gasoline. You're running out of reserves. I can put you down with one hit."
"You're right about the sword. You broke mine. I owe you one."
He tapped his naked chest over his heart. "This is the spot. Give it a shot, Kate. Let's see what happens. ~ Ilona Andrews

The five of us followed her to a shallow pool. A few feet away was the shark tank. It looked a lot smaller than it did from the vantage points I'd had on previous visits to the aquarium. And the sharks looked a lot bigger. In fact, they made Jaws look like a pond koi. "That's a nurse shark." Yet another aquarium employee, this time a buoyant guy,pointed out a smaller (yeah,right) one that was lurking near the edge of the tank. "They're cuddlers. They like snuggling up to each other and even us sometimes."
I edged closer to Alex.He grinned and wrapped an arm around my waist. That got me into the practice pool. ~ Melissa Jensen

Art, not less eloquently than literature, teaches her children to venerate the single eye. Remember Matsys. His representations of miser-life are breathing. A forfeited bond twinkles in the hard smile. But follow him to an altar-piece. His Apostle has caught a stray tint from his usurer. Features of exquisite beauty are seen and loved; but the old nature of avarice frets under the glow of devotion. Pathos staggers on the edge of farce. ~ Robert Aris Willmott

I'm capsized, staring on the edge of safe. ~ Tegan Quin

I went in; I closed the door. I sat down on the bed. Blackest space extended before me. I was not in this blackness, but at the edge of it, and I confess that it is terrifying. It is terrifying because there is something in it which scorns man and which man cannot endure without losing himself. But he must lose himself; and whoever resists will founder, and whoever goes forward will become this very blackness, this cold and dead and scornful thing in the very heart of which lives the infinite. This blackness stayed next to me, probably because of my fear: this fear was not the fear people know about, it did not break me, it did not pay any attention to me, but wandered around the room the way human things do. A great deal of patience is required if thought, when it has been driven down into the depths of the horrible, is to rise little by little and recognize us and look at us. But I still dreaded that look. A look is very different from what one might think, it has neither light nor expression nor force nor movement, it is silent, but from the heart of the strangeness its silence crosses worlds and the person who hears that silence is changed. ~ Maurice Blanchot

Whatever we do, whatever our backgrounds, we've all had some kind of advantage somewhere along the way. Some break that might have gone to someone else. Some edge or inside track we couldn't have counted on. ~ Ivanka Trump

I stopped looking around when I heard a soft "mew" and I looked toward Tate to see he was crouched. He straightened and turned to me.
I froze and stared.
Tatum Jackson, ex-pro football player, ex-cop, now bartender/bounty hunter, tall, beautiful and more man than I'd ever experienced in my life was standing on the edge of his kitchen holding a cat.
And it wasn't just any cat and he wasn't just holding it. He was cradling it. ~ Kristen Ashley

Who can let me be me," I said to Aidric. "Who can accept who and what I am - the good and the bad. The ugly too. Who isn't scared of me, and who isn't afraid to take me on. I don't intimidate Remi any more than I intimidate this table. He trusts me, trusts me with his heart and his body. You have no idea how I treasure that."
Remi took my hand. "Sexy fucker."
"Hot bastard," I shot right back.
Aidric lifted his head and shook it at us. "That edge of violence might work for you two, but not for me."
"Hold up," Remi demanded. "It's not violence, Aidric. Come on, man, stop being so damn stuffy and open your mind some. We happen to both be very toppy. This works for us."
"I… I didn't mean to insult you. I just…."
"Don't like change," Dolf finished for Aidric. "You never have."
Aidric scrubbed his hands over his face. "I always assumed my mate would be another werecat. Someone who was quiet and composed - "
"Restrained, stoic, and prudish," Brier interrupted. "Dull."
"Wow, thanks for making me sound boring. Appreciate it," Aidric snapped. "The thing is I'm not. You don't know anything about me and what I like. It just so happens I like to be… cautious."
Remi rested his chin on his hand. "Okay, you're right. But that's how you come across. As far as me not knowing anything about you? You're right, I don't. Whose fault is that?"
Aidric sighed. "Mine ~ M.A. Church

I lived in the cultural equivalent of Tatooine when I was a little boy. I didn't live in London, I didn't live right in the middle of where everything was happening, I lived on the very edge of it. ~ Simon Pegg

On the edge of dreaming when the brain lets go, when it stops its scheming, our blood runs slow... Then the heart speaks clearly of the things it knows, things it brought so dearly at the evening's glow... And a misty sunset fills the west with yellow, gold and scarlet red. The bowl of space a dawn sheds light upon our silky bed. For you I send refreshing rain to wash the past away. A quiet breeze drifts warmly across your tired face. It brings the scents from flower climbs, and leaves without a trace. With vines and newborn stars in our hair...undressed, bronzed platinum we are as summer in your golden church... Like whispers lost at sea...we soar beyond the sky of fire...in harmony within the clash of elements... Together lost and free to claim our each desire. Like leaves we float to earth, once more...forbidden passion, romantic eyes, and heated lips...two burning amber hearts released and drinking slowly mysterious champagne of heaven sweetest rest... ~ Oksana Rus

One function of the librarian, as he saw it, was to blunt the edge of these differences and to provide a means whereby the rich and poor could live happily side by side. The public library was a great leveler, supplying a literature by which the ordinary man could experience some of the pleasures of the rich, and providing a common ground where employer and employee could meet on equal terms. ~ Lewis Henry Steiner

To love God more is never to love people less. It's to love people best. It's to relieve them of the responsibility of being your false Christ. It's to keep their sins against you from being unforgivable and your sins against them from being ignorable. It's to guard them from our mean-streaks and strong human tendencies to respond to disappointment with punishment. It's to keep the people close by from cutting their wrists on the razor-sharp blades of our insecurities. It's to dull the edge of our cravings to be adored. It's to untie the double knots of codependency. It's to let the affirmations of others be the overflow and not the essential source of our emotional survival. To love God is to guard man. ~ Beth Moore

Digging

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner's bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it. ~ Seamus Heaney

Not all men are the same, you know. With someone such as Gavriel, I would suggest appearing aloof, not chasing too much. He might see that as suffocating rather than charming.
Her words are sharp, but her voice is sweet, like honey on the edge of a blade, and meant to be cutting. I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face and commending his soul to Mortain. ~ R.L. LaFevers

I'm a happy camper because by doing this I have an opportunity to be on the cutting edge of research. ~ Geraldine Ferraro

but the stories on the edge of civilization are horrible things. They're as cruel and violent as the nastiest fairy tales, but they don't have any hope or happily-ever-afters. They have victims, not heroes. The best you get is to escape and go home. ~ Richard Roberts

FINISTERRE
The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken,
into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you
as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way
to your future now but the way your shadow could take,
walking before you across water, going where shadows go,
no way to make sense of a world that wouldn't let you pass
except to call an end to the way you had come,
to take out each frayed letter you brought
and light their illumined corners, and to read
them as they drifted through the western light;
to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that;
to promise what you needed to promise all along,
and to abandon the shoes that had brought you here
right at the water's edge, not because you had given up
but because now, you would find a different way to tread,
and because, through it all, part of you could still walk on,
no matter how, over the waves. ~ David Whyte

What," Mick said softly, "is Lad doin' in me bed?"

Hearing his name, Lad opened small, piggish, upside-down eyes, gazing with idiotic adoration as his whip-thin tail thumped the covers.

"Ah." Harry scratched behind one ear. "Well, see, 'e was lookin' so forlorn, like, out in the courtyard by 'imself. Seemed an awful shame to leave 'im there all alone."

"Off!" Mick roared at the dog.

Lad's transformation was instantaneous. His tiny triangle ears folded back, his eyes narrowed worriedly, and he rolled so that he could crawl toward the edge of the bed on his belly.

"Is that mud on his paws?" Mick asked in outrage.

Harry glanced at the dog. "I do believe it is," he said as if making a discovery.

"Christ!" Mick watched disgustedly as Lad made the edge of the bed and slithered off, thumping to the floor. The dog seemed to think that his apology was done - or perhaps he'd already forgotten that Mick was mad at him - for he gamboled over as frisky as a lamb.

"He's not even me dog," Mick muttered.

Lad sat, one back leg sprawled out to the side, tongue hanging from his mouth, and grinned up at him. He completely ignored Harry, his supposed master.

"The dog 'as a wonderful affection for ye," Harry said brightly. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She saw the deepness that was at the edge of France and it made the beach under her feel like a ledge on a cliff. ~ J.M. Ledgard

These hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and discuss the pleasures of the table. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

The roar behind him was louder than anything he had ever heard in his life; a monstrous fist punched him in the back, knocking all the wind out of him even before he landed, sprawled on his belly on the wall top, barely holding on to his staff as it swung over the edge. ~ Robert Jordan

On the following morning the little hut on the Alm opened wide its doors and windows as if to drink up the early sunshine. Days went by. The warmth of the spring sun woke up first the little blue gentians - those with a white star in the center; then, one by one, all the other lovely flowers opened their petals. There were jonquils and red primroses and little golden rockroses with thorns on the edge of their petals. They all bloomed in their brightest colors while Peter watched the miracle taking place, as he had watched it every spring since he could remember. He had never quite seen the beauty of it, however, until Heidi had come to show him. ~ Charles Tritten

He is a free and secure citizen of the world because he is on a chain that is long enough to allow him access to all parts of the earth, and yet not so long that he could be swept over the edge of it. ~ Franz Kafka

My Caroline,
If you're reading this endnote then I can assume you've suffered your way through the story, our story once again. I suppose having you relive our time together is the ultimate proof of my sadism, as if you of all people needed further proof.
At the end I find myself surprised by how easy it was to write this book about us. I found I missed you so much that a terrible vacuum had formed; all the words came and filled it and for a little while you were home with me again. I didn't want it to end but a story must have an end, I suppose.
I have no secrets to reveal on this final page. I loved you. At least I tried to. And I failed you. I failed you with great success. Forgive me if you can. I will not apologize anymore.
I'm done writing now. I may go into the garden and read until evening. It isn't quite the same without your head on my knee and your ill-informed criticisms of my reading material, but I shall carry on alone, page by page, until the end. And when evening comes and the sun is sitting on the edge of the earth, I will look out, searching for a break in the horizon as that father did once so many thousands of years ago…the father waiting for his prodigal child to return.
I hope you are happy. As for me, I…continue. If you ever miss me, miss… But some things are best left unwritten. Just know I have kept your room for you. I'll say no more. I know I sent you away. I know it was the right thing to do. But I also know that perhaps no ~ Tiffany Reisz

From the edge of the forest where the mountains begin, a pack of sleeping wolves, huddled together in the cold, were woken. Travelling on the crystal air was a sound to fear in the night - the sound of parents calling out in anguish and loss.
A sound that would even chill the souls of beasts. ~ Sebastian Gregory

Life is better without the walls, everyone agrees. Still, sometimes I'm afraid of the outside world, and every so often in my private thoughts I wish the walls were still there to protect me. It feels like growing up, as if the safety of the childhood has been stripped away, and I've woken up on the edge of something dangerous. The walls are gone and I can do as I please. It's a freedom I'm not so sure I'm ready for. ~ Patrick Carman

I prepared to explore it as I had done the others; but no sooner had I entered the lodge than my fire failed me, leaving me in total darkness.

Handing it out to the doctor to be relighted, I began feeling my way about the interior of the lodge. I had almost made the circuit when my hand came in contact with a human foot; at the same time a voice unmistakably Indian, and which evidently came from the owner of the foot, convinced me that I was not alone.

I would have gladly placed myself on the outside of the lodge and there matured plus for interviewing its occupant; but, unfortunately, to reach the entrance of the lodge, I must either pass over or around the owner of the before-mentioned foot and voice.

Could I have been convinced that among its other possessions there was neither tomahawk nor scalping-knife, pistol nor war club, or any similar article of the noble red man's toilet, I would have risked an attempt to escape through the low narrow opening of the lodge; but who ever saw an Indian without one or all of these interesting trinkets?

Had I made the attempt, I should have expected to encounter either the keen edge of the scalping-knife or the blow of the tomahawk and to have engaged in a questionable struggle for life. This would not do.

I crouched in silence for a few moments, hoping the doctor would return with the lighted fire. I need not say that each succeeding moment spent in the darkness of that lodge se ~ George Armstrong Custer

Yes," I told him. "I think the guy playing the Pirate King was awesome."
He stopped where he was.
"What?" I asked, frowning at the big smile on his face.
"I didn't say I liked the Pirate King," he told me.
"Oh." I closed my eyes - and there he was. A warm, edgy presence right on the edge of my perception. When I opened my eyes, he was standing right in front of me.
"Cool," I told him. "You're back."
He kissed me leisurely. When he was finished, I was more than ready to head home. Fast.
"You make me laugh," he told me seriously. ~ Patricia Briggs

Stephen nodded a farewell to her as he and Philip started off in the donkey cart to transport supplies to those in greatest distress. As reprisals against the followers of the Way grew in intensity, there were more and more who needed such help. Many had lost their jobs because shop owners feared Temple reprisal if a follower was found in their employ. Looks of contempt were cast on them when they were recognized in the streets - or even curses, spitting, or handfuls of dust. It was clear their increasing numbers had the whole city on edge. ~ Janette Oke

He parked his car carefully, made sure he'd set all the locks and the alarm. On the steps he kept looking behind him, snapping glances into shadows like he expected this to be a set-up with my gang waiting to roll him. Nervous. But I got this feeling the possibility of danger was all part of it for him. What he wanted was something with an edge to it, something stamped as unmistakable bad.

Welcome to the club, dude. ~ Matthew Stokoe

Paths of the mirror"

I
And above all else, to look with innocence. As if nothing was happening, which is true.

II
But you, I want to look at you until your face escapes from my fear like a bird from the sharp
edge of the night.

III
Like a girl made of pink chalk on a very old wall that is suddenly washed away by the rain.

IV
Like when a flower blooms and reveals the heart that isn't there.

V
Every gesture of my body and my voice to make myself into the offering,
the bouquet that is abandoned by
the wind on the porch.

VI
Cover the memory of your face with the mask of who you will be and scare the girl you once were.

VII
The night of us both scattered with the fog. It's the season of cold foods.

VIII
And the thirst, my memory is of the thirst, me underneath, at the bottom, in the hole,
I drank, I remember.

IX
To fall like a wounded animal in a place that was meant to be for revelations.

X
As if it meant nothing. No thing. Mouth zipped. Eyelids sewn. I forgot.
Inside, the wind. Everything closed and the wind inside.

XI
Under the black sun of the silence the words burned slowly.

XII
But the silence is true. That's why I write. I'm alone and I write. No, I'm not alone.
There's somebody here shivering.

XIII
Even if I say sun and moon and star I'm t ~ Alejandra Pizarnik

She said this watching my eyes as if she were testing the edge of a blade on me. And so I made sure not to flinch. ~ Alexander Chee

The acrobat practices: He steps on the edge of a chair and leaps to the floor, feeling the rush as the air flares up his face as he falls. Then he sets himself on something higher, like a table then jumps. He scales a ladder to the ceiling, climbs a tree, pole, watchtower. He keeps increasing the height until no one sees him and the fear to jump leaves him completely, layer by layer [. . .] The acrobat imagines there is a highest possible point in the sky where if he were to fall from it the fall would never end. ~ Wataru Tsurumi