Puck And Ash Quotes

Um, I guess you're still mad about that whole harpy fiasco. I swear, I thought those caves were empty." "How did you overlook a hundred harpies nesting in that cave? Did the giant carpet of bones not tip you off?" "Oh, sure, complain now. But we found the trod to Athens, didn't we? ~ Julie Kagawa

I love it when you talk my language, ice-boy. ~ Julie Kagawa

Welcome back,sleeping beauty. ~ Julie Kagawa

Puck : "I found that oddly therapeutic, how about you?"
Ash: "idiot.. ~ Julie Kagawa

I swear I'm not going to lose it, or drop it in the gutter, or give it to a homeless guy. ~ Julie Kagawa

Looks like nobody's home," Puck said, turning in a slow circle. "Hellooooooooo? Anybody here?"
"Be quiet, Goodfellow," Ash growled, peering into the shadows with narrowed eyes. "We're not alone."
"Yeah? How do you figure that, prince? I don't see anyone."
"The cait sith has disappeared."
" ... Crap. ~ Julie Kagawa

Why won't they leave me alone? don't they realize I have a tinder heart and a paper body and that any spark will turn me straight to ash? ~ David Levithan

Because you mean the world to me. And because I would let it all fucking burn to ash if it only meant sparing you ~ Nenia Campbell

Awkward situation. I think Ash is off to rock back and forth in a corner and seriously wonder how his life got to be this way. He's a sensitive plant."
Jared nodded. "Might be better than stalking out to a balcony to wrap yourself in a cloak of bitterness and self-hatred like metaphorical Batman, though."
"Or trying to make light of a situation with constant awkward jokes." Kami agreed. "Whatever. Emotional health is for losers. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

The others saw him as he stumbled down the stairs, bleeding from nose and ears and eyes an mouth. The sheathed form of the Sword lay across his palms. He met their eyes, and choked out:

"Remember. Remember, all of you."

Mathilda's voice was infinitely gentle. "Remember what?"

"That I was a man, before I was King. Remember for me, when I forget.

His hand closed on the black double-lobed hilt, and the moonfire in the opal glowed. He drew the Sword, thrust it high.

And screamed as pain beyond all bearing ripped through him like white fire, turning his body to a thing of ash smoke.

He screamed, and knew. ~ S.M. Stirling

Rowan doesn´t know me as well as he thinks," he murmured, seemingly unconcerned with the jagged blades closing in on him, "otherwise he never would´ve made such a mistake."
Edgebriar smiled, leering at Ash fron behind the trio of knights, content to let his guards engage the Winter prince.
"And what mistake would that be?"
"There only four of you. ~ Julie Kagawa

I won't eat in a restaurant with filthy bathrooms. This isn't a hard call. They let you see the bathrooms. If the restaurant can't be bothered to replace the puck in the urinal or keep the toilets and floors clean, then just imagine what their refrigeration and work spaces look like. ~ Anthony Bourdain

Hey, sleepyhead," Mom said brightly when I walked into the kitchen.
I grunted. Tara handed me my coffee mug. I filled it quickly, added my milk and sugar, and took my first sip.
"Watching Ash drink coffee is kinda like watching a werewolf movie," Tara said. "You can see the transformation from man into beast."
"Except for me, it's beast into girl, I know," I said sourly and took another sip.
"Want some pancakes?" Mom asked.
"No, thanks." I leaned against the counter.
"They're really good," Josh said. He was watching me like he was hoping to see the transformation that Tara was talking about. ~ Rachel Hawthorne

In a cage of wire-ribs
The size of a man's head, the macaw bristles in a staring
Combustion, suffers the stoking devils of his eyes.
In the old lady's parlour, where an aspidistra succumbs
To the musk of faded velvet, he hangs in clear flames,
Like a torturer's iron instrument preparing
With dense slow shudderings of greens, yellows, blues,
Crimsoning into the barbs:

Or like the smouldering head that hung
In Killdevil's brass kitchen, in irons, who had been
Volcano swearing to vomit the world away in black ash,
And would, one day; or a fugitive aristocrat
From some thunderous mythological hierarchy, caught
By a little boy with a crust and a bent pin,
Or snare of horsehair set for a song-thrush,
And put in a cage to sing.

The old lady who feeds him seeds
Has a grand-daughter. The girl calls him 'Poor Polly', pokes fun.
'Jolly Mop.' But lies under every full moon,
The spun glass of her body bared and so gleam-still
Her brimming eyes do not tremble or spill
The dream where the warrior comes, lightning and iron,
Smashing and burning and rending towards her loin:
Deep into her pillow her silence pleads.

All day he stares at his furnace
With eyes red-raw, but when she comes they close.
'Polly. Pretty Poll', she cajoles, and rocks him gently.
She caresses, whispers kisses. The blue lids stay shut.
She strikes the cage in a t ~ Ted Hughes

I brushed the curtain aside, scowling. Hadn't even spoken to the girl and I felt like a stalker staring out the window, waiting once more ... waiting for what? To catch a glimpse of her? Or to better prepare myself for the inevitable meeting?
If Dee saw me now, she'd be on the floor laughing.
And if Ash saw me right now, she'd scratch out my eyes and blast my new neighbor into outer space. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

The crime scene was a small burned out house, blackened support beams sticking up like rotten teeth from the piles of char and ash on the ground. The occasional curl of half-burned insulation lay like thin snakes, poisonous and waiting. ~ Alex Hughes

Toward an Organic Philosophy

SPRING, COAST RANGE
The glow of my campfire is dark red and flameless,
The circle of white ash widens around it.
I get up and walk off in the moonlight and each time
I look back the red is deeper and the light smaller.
Scorpio rises late with Mars caught in his claw;
The moon has come before them, the light
Like a choir of children in the young laurel trees.
It is April; the shad, the hot headed fish,
Climbs the rivers; there is trillium in the damp canyons;
The foetid adder's tongue lolls by the waterfall.
There was a farm at this campsite once, it is almost gone now.
There were sheep here after the farm, and fire
Long ago burned the redwoods out of the gulch,
The Douglas fir off the ridge; today the soil
Is stony and incoherent, the small stones lie flat
And plate the surface like scales.
Twenty years ago the spreading gully
Toppled the big oak over onto the house.
Now there is nothing left but the foundations
Hidden in poison oak, and above on the ridge,
Six lonely, ominous fenceposts;
The redwood beams of the barn make a footbridge
Over the deep waterless creek bed;
The hills are covered with wild oats
Dry and white by midsummer.
I walk in the random survivals of the orchard.
In a patch of moonlight a mole
Shakes his tunnel like an angry vein;
Orion walks waist deep in the ~ Kenneth Rexroth

Food television opened the eyes, and palates, of our guests. They became more adventurous. ~ Wolfgang Puck

She asks him quietly in the dark to tell her about the mother of everything and he did not know of whom she was speaking.
She asked the volcano and the volcano belched great streams of wet ash.
She lay her head down with fatigue and found her head on a pillow of ink.
Upon waking she stretched her arms around the glob and found her fingers weren't even close to touching. ~ Maggie Nelson

I will gather up a lifetime of things unsaid, write them down, and then offer them all to be lit up for security and burned. All at once.
And then I can watch the whole thing turn to ash. The whole damn thing.
Light the match, and watch it burn.
What a loaded bonfire that would be though, if this gets burned when I finish filling up the whole book.
What a cleansing experience that will be!
If flames could speak, what a story they would tell.
They say that the original bonfires were the burning up of bones. Bad bones. Bad people. Enemies. Turning bones to ash. And it was the burning up of curses and all things bad as well. God knows we have had and still have enemies, and even curses. Real ones. ~ Suzy Valtsioti

It was the least she could do. For Nehemia - for. . . a lot of other people. There was nothing left in her, not really. Only ash and an abyss and the unbreakable vow she'd carved into her flesh, to the friend who had seen her for what she truly was. ~ Sarah J. Maas

If he could have been reembodied, at that moment a black wind would have rushed through the Villa Fioretta, wrenching the shutters off and tearing the pictures down, or an earthquake cracked the floors, or the olivey hill above the villa erupted, showering hot choking ash. ~ Elizabeth Bowen

I love strong flavors too. Like I don't mind if it looks clean and clear and you know what you are eating if it has Italian, Chinese or Japanese flavor I love them all. ~ Wolfgang Puck

Russia has lost an empire but not yet found a role. Russia has to decide what it wants to be. And as we know in Britain, that takes some time. It is quite tough to lose an empire and Russia lost its empire very rapidly and very admirably, that is to say peacefully, it didn't fight. ~ Timothy Garton Ash

Of the crow-blue mussel shells, one keeps
adjusting the ash heaps;
opening and shutting itself like
an
injured fan. ~ Marianne Moore

Lady Cosgrove gasped louder but recovered quickly. "Mr. Turner," she said, reaching out for Ash's cuff. "Do listen to me. I know that you may believe that Lady Margaret has your best interests at heart, as she is some kind of a relation, if only a distant one. But if you intend to be a duke, you must not let yourself be guided so easily, not by one such as her. Take my warning to heart: she's using you to punish me, because I kept my distance from her these past months. You know that any woman of good sense and decency would have done the same."

No, Margaret had never been like Lady Cosgrove. For one thing, she had never been so stupid. Ash's smile grew darker, and he looked at the woman. "I knew the instant Margaret spoke that she intended to use me as a weapon. What you fail to understand is this: I am her weapon to use."

Margaret's lungs burned. So much for not occasioning gossip. But she couldn't fault him. She couldn't reprimand him. She couldn't even stop her own smile from spilling out, stupidly, over her face, the truth writ large for anyone to see. ~ Courtney Milan

It's like there are seven candles lit in my stomach. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven candles burning and smoking - lit - seven flames of doubt, fear, sorrow, pain, waste, hopelessness, despair. They turn my insides black with soot and ash. There is something at the back of my eyes - a pressure building, building, building - hot like the flames of seven candles, which no amount of breath can extinguish. ~ Nic Sheff

But what about a person's anger? What about her voice? Her laughter? Her arrogance? Her irreverence? Her humor, her ego, her honor, her character? Do these fingerprints of an individual life simply evaporate and disappear with the last exhale? And if that is so, what use all this struggle, misery and strife? What difference whether a woman ever lived or not? Whether she was loved or unloved, educated or illiterate, wanted or unwanted by her parents, whether or not she suffered hurt and betrayal, or whether she still managed to retain her humanity and nobility? In the end, Bhima thinks, it doesn't matter. It is all ash and dust. This is what it means to be human, she thinks: Grains of dust arranged in human form - some dark, some light, some tall, some short, some male, some female. And in the end, the same gust of wind breaks them all down. ~ Thrity Umrigar

Wait a second," said Ash. "How is there a 'moon in springtime before the start of the new year'? I think it's a riddle. It makes no sense."

"Yes, it does," said Jared. "The new year was in March in England until the 1700s, when the pope introduced a new calendar."

Everyone stared at him. Jared flushed slightly, scar thrown into relief, and muttered, "I read a lot of old books."

"Well done," said Jon. "See where learning gets you, lads? So much better than messing around with girls or playing those video games which one hears are full of violence."

Kami, as a witness to many of her father's video game marathons, gave him a long judgmental stare. "You total hypocrite."

"Hypocrisy is what being a parent is all about," Jon said. "Well done for cracking the books, Jared and Holly. You see how it pays off."

Holly smiled and the light of her smile seemed to spill all over the room, reflections of light refracted all over everywhere.

"It's true reading is a wonderful thing," Rusty observed. "I read a Cosmo a year ago, and I still remember how to keep my nails in perfect condition and also ten top tips on how to dress to accentuate my ass."

Now everybody was staring at Rusty. Unlike Jared, he did not blush.

"Those tips are working," he said. "Don't pretend you haven't all noticed. I know the truth."

Kami rolled up a magazine on the table - sadly, for the sake of dramatic irony ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

When I walk down the street in New York, I swear to God, the building constructor, the guy pounding cement and what not, will yell, 'Hey, you hockey puck!' ~ Don Rickles

:She still didn't have to lock you in a box,: said the wolf, emerging from Cricket's thoughts. :If she does that again, I will eat her.:
Cricket laughed. :You wouldn't do that.:
:No, I would not. But as your companion and protector, I must bristle and play the part.: ~ Ash Gray

Working for Mab now, are you, Wolfman?" he smirked. "Like a good little attack dog? Will you also roll over and beg if she asks? ~ Julie Kagawa

He cupped her head with both hands. "You're full of your own kind of magic, and it's much more rare and beautiful than all the other spells around you. They are commonplace. You are unique. ~ Thea Harrison

Into the ash I dripped my pen and came out with fire. ~ Jazz Feylynn

One of the key qualities that you need to be a great hockey player is fantastic anticipation and feel for the game - if you know where the puck is going before it is hit, that is half the battle. ~ Wayne Gretzky

Honesty is the cornerstone of all success, without which confidence and ability to perform shall cease to exist. ~ Mary Kay Ash

The trouble is that privacy is at once essential to, and in tension with, both freedom and security. A cabinet minister who keeps his mistress in satin sheets at the French taxpayer's expense cannot justly object when the press exposes his misuse of public funds. Our freedom to scrutinise the conduct of public figures trumps that minister's claim to privacy. The question is: where and how do we draw the line between a genuine public interest and that which is merely what interests the public? ~ Timothy Garton Ash

This will be the age of cruel winds, the age of people who become as wolves, who prey upon each other, who are no better than wild beasts. Twilight will come to the world, and the places where the humans live will fall into ruins, flaming briefly, then crashing down and crumbling into ash and devastation. ~ Neil Gaiman

They went through the last of the cars and then walked up the track to the locomotive and climbed up to the catwalk. Rust and scaling paint. They pushed into the cab and he blew away the ash from the engineer's seat and put the boy at the controls. The controls were very simple. Little to do but push the throttle lever forward. He made train noises and diesel horn noises but he wasn't sure what these might mean to the boy. After a while they just looked out through the silted glass to where the track curved away in the waste of weeds. If they saw different worlds what they knew was the same. That the train would sit there slowly decomposing for all eternity and that no train would ever run again ~ Cormac McCarthy

Death Vision

I think it's a multiplication of sight,
Like after a low hovering autumn rain
When the invisible web of funnel weaves
And sheetweb weavers all at once are seen
Where they always were, spread and looping
The grasses, every strand, waft and leaf-
Crest elucidated with water-light and frost,
completing the fullest aspect of field.

Or maybe the grace of death is split-second
Transformation of knowledge, an intricate,
Turning realization, as when a single
Sperm-embracing deep ovum transforms,
In an instant, from stasis to replicating,
Star-shifting shimmer, rolls, reaches,
Alters its plane of intentions, becomes
A hoofing, thumping host of purpose.


I can imagine not merely
The falling away of blank walls
And blinds in that moment, not merely
A shutter flung open for the first time
Above a valley of interlocking forests
And constellations but a sweeping,
Penetrating circumference of vision
Encompassing both knotweed bud
And its seed simultaneously, seeing
Blood bone and its ash as one,
The repeated light and fall and flight
Of hawk-owl and tundra vole
As a union of origin and finality.

A mathematics of flesh and space might
Take hold if we ask for it in that last
Moment, might appear as if it had always
Existed within the eyes, translucent,
Jewel-like in stained gla ~ Pattiann Rogers

Escort service," Puck replied, shifting to the side so that Twiggs could get a clear view
of me. Those beady eyes fixed on me, blinking in confusion. Then, suddenly, they got
huge and round, as Twiggs looked back at Puck.
"Is ... is that ... ?"
"It is."
"Does she ... ?"
"No."
"Oh, my." Twiggs opened the door wide, beckoning with a sticklike arm. ~ Julie Kagawa

Desolate city. Snow on the streets. Fire in the sky.
It could have been one of a hundred wars.
But there-
The place on the street where the snow had melted. The dark crater in the sea of white.Daniel sank to his knees and reached for the ring of black ash stained on the ground.He closed his eyes.And he remembered the precise way she had died in his arms.
Moscow.1941.
So this was what she was doing-tunneling into her past lives. Hoping to understand.
The thing was,there was no rhyme or reason to her deaths.More than anyone, Daniel knew that.
But there were certain lifetimes when he'd tried to shed some light for her,hoping it would change things. Sometimes he'd hoped to keep her alive longer,though that never really worked. Sometimes-like this time during the siege of Moscow-he'd chosen to send her on her way more quickly.To spare her.So that his kiss could be the last thing she felt in that lifetime. ~ Lauren Kate

That first loving kiss, the one that comes out of you from the source of your personal river, and the one that comes from her that is the same, there's never another moment like it; never another flame that burns so hot. It can never be that good again, ever. All manner of goodness can come after, but it's different. And that's a good thing, because if we burned that hot for too long, we'd be nothing but ash. ~ Joe R. Lansdale

Slowly rising from the fire, she went down to the shore, and not wanting to frighten him off again, she squatted on a rock above the water, looking down at him where he sat on the wet sand with his long blue-green tail disappearing into the lapping waves. He shyly offered the bag up to her, which had been woven of seaweed, and she took it with a whispered thanks and opened it, staring in delight and surprise at the sheer amount of oysters that were inside.
The siren made a trilling noise and whispered, "I-I hope it is well enough. I do not know what land women eat. ~ Ash Gray