Sheath Quotes

Memory is the receptacle and sheath of all knowledge ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero

We didn't speak anymore, then, as the melting boundaries of our bodies disappeared. It was slow, dreamy and peaceful, his body and mine as much as mine was his, so that I curled my foot round his leg and felt both smooth sole and hairy shin, felt callused palm and tender flesh, was knife and sheath together, the rhythm of our movement that of one heart beating. The ~ Diana Gabaldon

Penryn: Oh, I wonder if I can find a pink sheath for Pooky Bear. Maybe with little rhinestones? ~ Susan Ee

Wondering how I would make it through a hand-to-hand duel, I glanced around--and just then I saw one of Galdran's equerries fall from his saddle, his banner-spear spinning through the air toward me. Instinctively my free hand reached up and I caught the spear by the shaft. Ignoring the sting in my hand, I jammed my sword into its sheath and started whirling the spear round and round, making the banner snap and stream as my prancing, sidling horse circled round my brother. Horses turned their heads and backed away; no one was able to edge up and get in a good blow at Bran, who swayed in his saddle, his bad arm hanging limp. The warriors fell back, and no one swung at me.
Dimly I became aware of an ugly, harsh voice shouting over the crash and thuds of battle. Keeping the banner whirling, I guided my horse with my knees and risked a glance back over my shoulder--and looked straight into Galdran's rage-darkened face. He said something, spittle flying from his mouth, as he pointed straight at me.
A moment later a flicker of movement on my immediate left caused me to glance round. Shevraeth was there, next to me. "Fall back," he ordered, his voice sharp.
"No. Got to protect Bran--"
There was no time for more. The Marquis was beset by furious attackers as the King shouted orders from a short distance away. Then more riders appeared from somewhere, and for a moment everything was too chaotic to follow. I found myself suddenly on the edge of the battle; there were ~ Sherwood Smith

He had murdered any illlusion of Alex Remington. The golden pendant had been replaced by a spiked dog collar, and he was wearing a black T-shirt that hugged his form and showed off the many designs on his arms: Fenris on the right wrist, and Echidna, the greek mother of monsters, high on his left arm. The norse world serpent was wrapped around his left wrist, and a new design had recently been added: Cerberus, the three-headed dog who guarded the gates of Hades. The world serpent was partially obscurred by a black leather knife sheath, which held a silver knife Aubrey had taken from a vampire hunter a few thousand years earlier.
His hair was slightly touseled, as if he'd been running, and a few strands fell across his face.
Looking at him now, Jessica couldn't imagine how she had ever mistaken him for a human. But illusion was Aubrey's art. And it was simple to fool people who expected nothing else.
For the moment, Aubrey appeared to be exactly what he was: stunning, michievous, and completely deadly all at once ~ Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

It's our turf," the younger woman barked.
"Actually it's my turf."
The thugs spun to me.
"Let's see . . . You're hassling people in my territory, so you owe me a fee. A couple of fingers ought to do it. Do we have a volunteer?"
The small thug pulled a bowie knife from a sheath on his waist.
I kept coming. "That's a mistake."
The thug crouched down. He clenched his knife, like he was drowning and it was a straw that would pull him out. A little crazy light danced in his eyes. "Come on, whore. Come on."
The oldest bluff in the book: get a crazy glimmer in your eyes, look like you're ready to fight, and the other guy might back off. Heh.
"That might work better for you if you held the knife properly. You were doing okay until you pulled the blade. Now I know that you have no clue how to use it and I'll have to chop your hand off and shove that knife up your ass just to teach you a lesson. Nothing personal. I have a reputation to uphold."
I pulled Slayer out. I had years of practice to back me up and I made the draw fast.
The two bravos behind the knife-wielding thug backed away.
I looked at Slayer's blade. "Well, check this out. Mine is bigger. Let's go, knife-master. I don't have all day. ~ Ilona Andrews

The new growth in the plant swelling against the sheath, which at the same time imprisons and protects it, must still be the truest type of progress. ~ Jane Addams

The more south we were, the more deep a sky it seemed, till, in the Valley of Mexico, I thought it held back an element too strong for life, and that the flamy brilliance of blue stood off this menace and sometimes, like a sheath or silk membrane, shoed the weight it held in sags. So when later he would fly high over the old craters on the plain, coaly bubbles of the underworld, dangerous red everywhere from the sun, and then coats of snow on the peak of the cones - gliding like a Satan - well, it was here the old priests, before the Spaniards, waited for Aldebaran to come into the middle of heaven to tell them whether or not life would go on for another cycle, and when they received their astronomical sign built their new fire inside the split and emptied chest of a human sacrifice. And also, hereabouts, worshipers disguised as gods and as gods in the disguise of birds, jumped from platforms fixed on long poles, and glided as they spun by the ropes - feathered serpents, and eagles too, the voladores, or fliers. There still are such plummeters, in market places, as there seem to be remnants or conversions or equivalents of all the old things. Instead of racks or pyramids of skulls still in their hair and raining down scraps of flesh there are corpses of dogs, rats, horses, asses, by the roads; the bones dug out of the rented graves are thrown on a pile when the lease is up; and there are the coffins looking like such a rough joke on the female form, sold in the open shops, bl ~ Saul Bellow

The leprous corpse, touch'd by this spirit tender,
Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath;
Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour
Is chang'd to fragrance, they illumine death
And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath;
Nought we know, dies. Shall that alone which knows
Be as a sword consum'd before the sheath
By sightless lightning? - the intense atom glows
A moment, then is quench'd in a most cold repose. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

I have always loved the many moods of the sky at Rocky Flats. Turquoise and teal in summer, fiery red at sunset, iron gray when snow is on the way. The land rolls in waves of tall prairie grass bowed to the wind, or sprawling mantles of white frosted with a thin sheath of ice in winter. ~ Kristen Iversen

To those nations and people who wish us ill, I issue a simple warning. The United States has been wounded this morning. That is a fact. This is also a fact: although wounded, we are not weakened. You may delight in the news that we've suffered a terrible loss, but do not let our misfortune provide you the sudden courage to decide that now is the time to move against us. We are a peaceful people, a peaceful nation, but our sword is out of the sheath this day, and can be swung in many directions with an unforgiving, fearful vengeance. Stand fast." No president had ever been so ~ Chuck Grossart

There's a scabbard for every dagger,' the madam says in Turkish as the whores laugh. ~ Jeffrey Eugenides

I knew this was still here somewhere." He pulls a knife from the back of the drawer, takes it out of its sheath and shines the torch on it. I move closer until our shoulders touch.
"That's beautiful," I whisper.
"You gave this to me."
I take the knife. It's heavier than I expect. "Please, tell me it was a gift and not something I stabbed you with. ~ Paula Weston

At first it seemed to be no more than a chance ray of light beamed into the vestibule by the shifting of a tree-bough between house and street lamp, but as we kept our eyes glued to it we saw that it was a form - a tall, attenuated, skeletally-thin form moving stealthily in the shadow.

Slowly the thing emerged from the gloom of the doorway, and despite the warning I had had, I felt a prickling sensation at the back of my neck just above my collar, and a feeling as of sudden chill ran through my forearms. It was tall, as we had been told, fully six feet from its bare-boned feet to hairless, parchment-covered skull; and the articulation of its skeleton could be seen plainly through the leathery skin that clung to the gaunt, staring bones. The nose was large, high-bridged and haughty, like the beak of a falcon or eagle, and the chin was prominent beneath the brownish sheath of skin that stretched drum-tight across it. The eyes were closed and showed only as twin depressions in the skull-like countenance, but the mummified lips had retracted to show a double line of teeth in a mirthless grin. Its movements were irregular and stiff, like the movements of some monstrous mechanical doll or, as Edina Laurace had expressed it, like a marionette worked by unseen wires. But once it had emerged from the doorway it moved with shocking quickness. Jerkily, and with exaggeratedly high knee-action, it crossed the lawn, came to the sidewalk, turned on its parchment-soled feet as if ~ Seabury Quinn

Nearly anyone might feel like a painter walking the streets of Paris then, because the light brought it out in you, and the shadows alongside the buildings, and the bridges which seemed to want to break your heart, and the sculpturally beautiful women in Chanel's black sheath dresses, smoking and throwing back their heads to laugh. We would walk into any café and feel the wonderful chaos of it, ordering Pernod or Rhum St James until we were beautifully blurred and happy to be there together. ~ Paula McLain

Abruptly, he wheeled Shadow into a full turn, stopped, and yanked his rifle out of the sheath on his saddle. ~ Joanna Jordan

Her sheath clamped his erection like a burning fist as her body demanded he follow her over the edge. Physically that was already happening. Big time. He was buried all the way in with his balls kissing her sweet ass as the biggest orgasm of his life blew his mind. He literally saw stars. But it didn't end there. Emotionally and spiritually she was sucking him into her and he was driving harder and harder to get there himself as his gaze locked with hers. She grabbed his heavy necklace and pulled his mouth to hers, demanding and claiming, giving no quarter. They rode out the pleasure, wave after wave, milking every drop of it together with moans, touches, tiny thrusts, and sealing it all with an endless kiss that left him breathless - soulless - everything-less. She stole it all. ~ Jennifer St. Giles

It was in this atmosphere of boozy wistfulness and dizzy exhaustion that Sylvia- along with Carol LeVarn- took her suitcase to the Barbizon roof and tossed each slip, stocking, sheath, and skirt into the night sky. "We took the elevator to the roof," recalls Carol, who refrained from tossing her own clothes off the Barbizon. "We stood there by the empty pool, which was all lit up. We were laughing. All this absurd phony fun we were having was over ... .We were just kind of giddy. I didn't see it as Sylvia throwing off a false self. It was just fun- a 'good-bye to all that' sort of thing. ~ Elizabeth Winder

Hanging back to get her reaction under control, she wiped her knife on the edge of her petticoat, then angled her body away so she could raise her skirts enough to slip the knife into its sheath, taking care not to drop the pilfered food cradled in her other arm. When she straightened, she expected Darius and Jacob to be well ahead but instead found her companions only a few yards away, their far-too-curious eyes riveted on her. "So that's where you keep it." Darius's attention dropped to a spot halfway down her skirt. "I had wondered." Nicole lifted her chin. "Yes, well, I tried carrying it around in one of those lacy little reticules, but it kept getting tangled in the ribbons. Not very practical." Keeping her eyes averted from Darius's face, she marched past the gawkers and headed for the house. ~ Karen Witemeyer

She released her weapon with one hand, twisted around, and kissed him. It was the deepest she had ever kissed him. Blood filled his face, and he went limp at the touch of her lips. Namine took the moment of dropped defense to put Zarrys flat on his back with a long blade at his throat before he even knew what was happening. As he looked up the long shaft to her smiling face, he gave an embarrassed chuckle. Fallon and Kirah were laughing behind her.
"Me," Namine said proudly. Then she withdrew the weapon and helped Zarrys back to his feet.
Cheeks burning, Zarrys returned his sword to its sheath. "That's cheating. ~ S.R. Ford

Say you want me." His mouth moved over her throat, closed over her aching breast. Every strong pull sent an answering rush of liquid heat.
"You know I do." She pressed him to her, wound a leg around his.
She could barely breathe with her need, clawing at him to get closer, to crawl inside the shelter of his body, his mind, to feel his body in hers, taking possession as he was meant to, to feel his mouth at her breast, dragging her further into his world.
"All of it," he said hoarsely, his fingers probing the nest of tiny curls, stroking, caressing. "Mate with me my way."
She moved in a kind of anguish against his hand. "Yes, Mikhail." She was frantic for release, frantic to relieve him. She was consumed with the same red haze, not separating love from lust or hunger from need. She was on fire, hurting, aching, body and mind, even her soul in torment, not knowing where his wild, uninhibited emotions left off and hers began.
Mikhail lifted her easily with his enormous strength, slid her slowly, erotically down his clenching belly until she was pressed against the broad head of his raging erection. Her heat seared him, beckoned. Raven's arms slid around his neck, her legs around his hips, opening for him. Slowly he lowered her body over his, impaled her on the thick length of fire so that she surrounded him with such a moist, tight sheath he shuddered, somewhere beyond mere pleasure, a kind of erotic heaven and hell.
Her nails dug into his shoulders ~ Christine Feehan

And any hope Damen had that Laurent
could control this scene ended as
Laurent's face shuttered, as his eyes went
cold, and with the sharp sound of steel,
his sword came out of its sheath. ~ C.S. Pacat

From inside his room Reacher heard the lawn chair scrape across the blacktop, but he paid no attention. Just a random nighttime sound, nothing dangerous, not a shotgun jacking a round, not the hiss of a blade on a sheath, nothing for his lizard brain to worry about. And the only non-lizard possibilities were a lace-up footstep on the sidewalk outside, and a knock on the door, because the woman from the railroad seemed like a person with a lot of questions, and also some kind of expectation they should be answered. Who are you and why have you come here? ~ Lee Child

Dreams drawn from the sheath. ~ R. Scott Bakker

We'll Go No More A-roving
So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon. ~ George Gordon Byron

A minute or two more and Orlant disengaged, and swore. 'Are you going to fight me or not?'
You said we were sparring,' said Damen, neutrally.
Orlant flung down his sword, took two steps off to one of the watching men, and pulled from its sheath thirty inches of polished steel straightsword, which without preamble he returned to swing with killing speed at Damen's neck. ~ C.S. Pacat

His fingers wrapped around the smooth metal handle, and he eased the knife from its sweat-patinaed leather sheath and weaved the blade skillfully through the air. While it didn't have the impression of a Fae-forged blade, he did feel something alive within the mortal steel as if the old blade had drunk deeply of blood and continued to thirst. ~ Jacqueline Patricks

Thank you," I managed to say.

Replying with a nod, he approached my horse. "Here, let me help you - "

I slipped down myself before he could lend a hand, keeping the fur hide in my possession. "I'm not suddenly incapable because I wear a dress, Thaddeus."

"I wasn't suggesting…." Wisely, he let the issue drop.

Lifting an arm, he offered it to me. That's when I noticed my sword in sheath belted to his waist.

"That's mine!" I declared, reaching for the hilt.

Thaddeus managed a quick side-step. He hardened his jaw at my look of incredulity. I would only wait momentarily for an explanation.

"I know the sword is yours, Catherine, everyone knows that. But you're too beautiful tonight to ruin that radiant look with an ugly, leather belt strapped about you."

I was starting to think the man was using compliments as a weapon to defend himself against me. It did work to temper my anger somewhat.

"I brought the sword as a cautionary act, just in case those nasty werewolves show up. Seeing how I'll be standing beside you all evening, the blade will be at your disposal if needed."

I accepted his reasoning and stood down.

"Besides," Thaddeus added, apparently feeling safe, "what's yours is mine now anyway."

I glared at the fool. "That works both ways, you know."

He rolled his eyes and shrugged. "If it must."

Again, he offered me his arm wh ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

You are wearing no panties with another male in the room?Raphael ran his hand down Elena's spine and over her lower curves, searching for lines and finding nothing but firm feminine flesh.You truly aren't
Elena's shoulders shook, deep creases in her cheeks. Oh, my God, you're scandalized! Eyes tearing up in the effort to fight her laughter, she pressed her hands to his chest and stared down at the floor.Should I tell you I did find a way to wear a knife? In a thigh sheath.
Of course you did. What do panties matter so long as you have your steel. ~ Nalini Singh

This minimally invasive approach to hysteropexy involves laparoscopic plication of the round ligaments to the rectus sheath. A case series by O'Brien and Ibrahim (1994) of nine postmenopausal women with "moderate or marked" uterovaginal prolapse who underwent laparoscopic ventrosuspension provide discouraging results with 89% of women experiencing complete recurrence within 3 months, all of whom required additional surgery. Other authors have reported success with this procedure (Lin et al., 2005), although most literature focuses on uterosacral ligament plication and sacrohysteropexy, which are thought to provide more durable and anatomic repairs. ~ Mark D. Walters

Let your repentance salt my shoe leather," I said presently, "and then, as I lately sheathed my blade of anger, so sheath you my blade of love. ~ John Barth

I didn't want to wear the bra I'd discarded last night;it was filthy and reeked of perspiration. Not that I was pleased my breasts could be kept under control by such a thin sheath of fabric, but it did have its advantages. ~ Christina Garner

Glorious wrappings sheath the gift of one day more.
Breathless I unwrap the package.
Never lived this day before. ~ Gloria Gaither

Money doesn't buy elegance. You can take an inexpensive sheath, add a pretty scarf, gray shoes, and a wonderful bag, and it will always be elegant. ~ Carolina Herrera

You wearing a thigh sheath?"
"Now what would be the sense of wearing just one? I have two thighs. ~ Lisa Shearin

He would always be something sharp and deadly on the inside, something that could be used to destroy, but every blade needs a sheath and every gun needs a holster to protect it. I had no problem offering myself up as the thing that kept this particular weapon secure. ~ Jay Crownover

The moon rose, striking fire from the Cimmerian's horned helmet. No call awoke the echoes; yet suddenly the night grew tense and the jungle held its breath. Instinctively Conan loosened the great sword in its sheath. ~ Robert E. Howard

One day, I'll sip from you while my cock is snug inside your tight sheath, and it'll be slow and deep and long. ~ Nalini Singh, Archangel's Enigma

You cannot hammer a girl into anything. She grows as a flower does, she will wither without sun; she will decay in her sheath as a narcissus will if you do not give her air enough; she might fall and defile her head in dust if you leave her without help at some moments in her life; but you cannot fetter her; she must take her own fair form and way if she take any. ~ John Ruskin

The air is blue and keen and cold,
With snow the roads and fields are white;
But here the forest's clothed with light
And in a shining sheath enrolled.
Each branch, each twig, each blade of grass,
Seems clad miraculously with glass:

Above the ice-bound streamlet bends
Each frozen fern with crystal ends. ~ William Sharp

walked down the hill and stuck out my thumb, standing in the same spot where I had stood when I hitchhiked to high school. My clothes and gear were in my official Boy Scout backpack, a big old thing on an aluminum rack, with my sleeping bag and pup tent lashed to it. I'd been a serious Boy Scout - I joined at 12, after my failed Little League career, and took to it immediately, racking up merit badges and making it all the way to Eagle Scout. I knew first aid, how to start a fire in the rain, how to make a mean camp stew, and lots of other useful stuff. And I didn't mind sleeping outside, which was a good thing, since there was no way I could afford motels. My official Boy Scout sheath knife, a serious piece of business with a leather-wrapped handle and a five-inch blade, was also in the pack; I'd move it into my boot by the end of the first day. ~ David Noonan

Francesca took a navy blue sheath from a hanger and held it up. "This is darling, Gabriel. Don't you love it? You're right, I think we need to concentrate on much more feminine articles of clothing."
He reached around her and fingered the soft material. "Where is the rest of it?" He was very serious, his dark eyes searching her face for signs she was teasing. ~ Christine Feehan

Sometmes when you pull knives on people, they get this impression that you're going to hurt them, and then they're completely terrified. Crazy, I know!"

"Okay," said Nick. He turned to Jamie & popped his left wrist sheath again. "Look."

Jamie backed up. "Which part of 'completely terrified' did you translate as 'show us your knives, Nick'? Don't show me your knives, Nick. I have no interest in your knives."

Nick rolled his eyes. "This is a quillon dagger. That's a knife with a sword handle. I like it because it has a good grip for stabbing."

"Why do you say these things?" Jamie inquired piteously. "Is it to make me sad?"

"I didn't have you cornered," Nick went on. "You could've run. And this dagger doesn't have an even weight distribution; it's absolute rubbish for throwing. If I had any intention of hurting you, I'd have used a knife I could throw."

Jamie blinked. "I will remember those words always. I may try to forget them, but I sense that I won't be able to. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

Tenways showed his rotten teeth. 'Fucking make me.'
'I'll give it a try.' A man came strolling out of the dark, just his sharp jaw showing in the shadows of his hood, boots crunching heedless through the corner of the fire and sending a flurry of sparks up around his legs. Very tall, very lean and he looked like he was carved out of wood. He was chewing meat from a chicken bone in one greasy hand and in the other, held loose under the crosspiece, he had the biggest sword Beck had ever seen, shoulder-high maybe from point to pommel, its sheath scuffed as a beggar's boot but the wire on its hilt glinting with the colours of the fire-pit. He sucked the last shred of meat off his bone with a noisy slurp, and he poked at all the drawn steel with the pommel of his sword, long grip clattering against all those blades. 'Tell me you lot weren't working up to a fight without me. You know how much I love killing folk. I shouldn't, but a man has to stick to what he's good at. So how's this for a recipe…' He worked the bone around between finger and thumb, then flicked it at Tenways so it bounced off his chain mail coat. 'You go back to fucking sheep and I'll fill the graves.'
Tenways licked his bloody top lip. 'My fight ain't with you, Whirrun.'
And it all came together. Beck had heard songs enough about Whirrun of Bligh, and even hummed a few himself as he fought his way through the logpile. Cracknut Whirrun. How he'd been given the Father of Swords. How he'd killed his f ~ Joe Abercrombie

Ulric rushed forward to the pile as soon as the spikes were out of his way. The seneschal's wider frame lumbered with the effort it took him to kneel and he grunted under the strain. Swiping the sleeve of his brown tunic across his forehead, Ulric placed his arm before his nose as he leaned closer to the pelts.
Impatient, Vladamir watched Ulric pick through the skins. He followed silently behind, refusing to sheath his sword. The seneschal sat straight up in surprise.
"M'lord, it would appear to be a maiden amongst these pelts. Methinks I see the entrails of a rabbit in her hair," Ulric yelled through the sleeve of his tunic. ~ Michelle M. Pillow

A blossom must break the sheath it has been sheltered by. ~ Phyllis Bottome

What did she pass from?" the girl asked. "M.S. Multiple sclerosis." "What's that?" "It's a human disease where the body's immune system attacks the coating that protects your nerve fibers? Without that sheath, you can't tell your body what to do, so you lose the ability to walk, feed yourself, speak. Or at least, my mom did. Some people with it have long periods of remission when the disease isn't active. She wasn't one of them." Mary rubbed the center of her chest. "There are more options for treatment now than there were fifteen or twenty years ago when she was first diagnosed. Maybe she would have lasted longer in this era of medicine. Who knows. ~ J.R. Ward

I'm just saying it definitely makes your job easier. Easier to know where your sheath it when your dagger's in it." ~Sarka Rowan ~ Carolyn Spear

Do you carry a dagger, Your Highness?"
Raisa nodded. "I do, as a rule, but Micah and Fiona took mine."
"Then take this one." He wiped the blade on his breeches, returned the blade to a sheath at his waist, then unbuckled the belt, handing the whole package to her. Raisa slid the blade free, turning it so it caught the light. It was of the same make and design as the Lady sword, with the image of Hanalea worked into the hilt.
"I can't take this!" She protested. "It belongs to your family."
"I've not much use for it, in fact," Byrne replied. "If I let an enemy get close enough to need it, I deserve what I get. ~ Cinda Williams Chima

The smell of it. The feel of it." He rubbed one hand up and down the stained sheath of his sword, making a faint swishing sound. "War is honest. There's no lying to it. You don't have to say sorry here. Don't have to hide. You cannot. If you die? So what? You die among friends. Among worthy foes. You die looking the Great Leveller in the eye. If you live? Well, lad that's living, isn't it? A man isn't truly alive until he's facing death." Whirrun stamped his foot into the sod. "I love war! ~ Joe Abercrombie

If you are the lantern, I am the flame;
If you are the lake, then I am the rain;
If you are the desert, I am the sea;
If you are the blossom, I am the bee;
If you are the fruit, then I am the core;
If you are the rock, then I am the ore;
If you are the ballad, I am the word;
If you are the sheath, then I am the sword. ~ Cecilia Dart-Thornton

Mary Hepburn was meanwhile murdering herself up in her room, lying on her bed with the polyethylene sheath of her "Jackie dress" swapped around her head. The sheath was now all steamed up inside, and she hallucinated that she was a great land tortoise lying on its back in the hot and humid hold of a sailing ship of long ago. She pawed the air in perfect futility, just as a land tortoise on its back would have done.

As she had often told her students, sailing ships bound out across the Pacific used to stop off in the Galàpagos Islands to capture defenseless tortoises, who could live on their backs without food or water for months. They were so slow and tame and huge and plentiful. The sailors would capsize them without fear of being bitten or clawed. then they would drag them down to waiting longboats on the shore, using the animals' own useless suits of armor for sleds.

They would store them on their backs in the dark paying no further attention to them until it was time for them to be eaten. the beauty of the tortoises to the sailors was that they were fresh meat which did not have to be refrigerated or eaten right away. ~ Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Someone--a man--came up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist.
Not flirtation. Aggression.
Kestrel sidestepped and spun, pulling her dagger from its sheath.
Irex. His dagger was drawn, too.
"A fight, dear Kestrel?" His stance was easy. He didn't know how to play Bite and Sting, but his skill at weapons outmatched hers.
"Not here," she said stiffly.
"No, not here." His voice was soft. "But anywhere, if you want it."
"Exactly what do you think you are doing, Irex?"
"You mean, a moment ago? Oh, I don't know. Maybe I was trying to pick your pocket." His tone hinted at a coarse double meaning.
Kestrel slid her dagger into its sheath. "Theft is the only way you will get my gold." She walked from the cover of trees and saw, with shaky gratitude, that the party was still there, that the sound of porcelain and spoons still tinkled over low talk, and that no one had noticed anything.
No one, except perhaps Arin. He was waiting for her. She felt a flash of something unpleasant--embarrassment, perhaps, as she wondered how much of this afternoon he had overheard. Dismay to think that he might have witnessed that last exchange with Irex, and misunderstood it. Or was she troubled by something else? Maybe it was the thought that Arin knew perfectly well what had been taking place behind the trees and had made no move to interfere, to help.
It was not his place to interfere, she reminded herself. She had not needed his help.
Marie Rutkoski

I could give you a thiught sheath to put that in,"Isabelle offered. "I got tons."
"CERTAINLY NOT," said Simon.
Clary shot him an irritated look. "Thanks, but I'm not really a thigh sheath kind of girl,"
-pg. 214 ~ Cassandra Clare

Curran strode toward me, eyes blazing. "If I let her go, I'll need a replacement. Want to volunteer for the job."
He looked like he wouldn't be taking no for an anser. I swiped Slayer from its sheath and backed away from the edge of the roof. "And be girlfriend number twenty-three soon to be dumped in favor of girlfriend number twenty-four who has slightly bigger boobs? I don't think so."
He kept coming. "Oh Yeah?"
"Yeah, you get these beautiful women, make them dependent on you, and then you dump them. Well, this time a woman left you first, and your enormous ego can't deal with it. And to think that I hoped we could talk like reasonable adults. If we were the last two people on Earth, I'd find myself a moving island so I could get the hell away from you. ~ Ilona Andrews

What was time itself but the bloom, the sheath enfolding experience? Within time, and with time alone, there was life - the gleam, the quiver, the heartbeat, the immeasurable joy and anguish of being ... ~ Ellen Glasgow

He went to his coffers, shuffling through until he found something. It were a long, black-sheathed boot knife. He drew it half out and showed me a wicked-looking blade. He pushed it back in the sheath and tossed it to me. I caught it and looked at it; I couldn't even draw it out of the sheath the way my hand were bandaged, so I just stared at him.

"Does that help?" he said.

Silent, I nodded slow.

He nodded once, sharp. "Good."

And then he left. ~ A.C. Gaughen

I buckle my sword sheath to my waist and head for the trees. "If you're coming, hurry up."

They glance at each other, but follow. Aithinne matches my stride, looking askance at me. "You don't even know where you're going, do you? You're not walking into a fight, you're running into it at full speed with a blindfold on and your ears lopped off and - "

"Thank you," I say. "That metaphor did not need to be extended ~ Elizabeth May

A language like Ruby is a toolbox with some really neat little tools that do their job really nicely. JavaScript is a leather sheath with a really really sharp knife inside. That knife can cut anything, and with it you can do anything. You can kill a bear. You can catch fish. You can whittle a piece of wood into a pony. It's even a toothpick. ~ Nick Morgan

Smell is important. It reminds a person of all the things he's been through; it is a sheath of memories and security. ~ Tove Jansson

I am not sure I can."
"Become sure," said the cat, his eyes flashing green in the firelight. "Once you leap on a boar's back, you can't sheath your claws. ~ Erin Bow

I want a riot laser," Eve snapped at Peabody. "Full body armor." She yanked a six-inch combat knife from its leather sheath and watched with glee, as its wicked serrated edge caught the sunlight through her little window.
Peabody's eyes popped. "Sir?"
"I'm going down to maintenance, and I'm going locked and loaded. I'm taking those piss-brain sons of bitches out, one by one. Then I'm going to haul what's left of the bodies into my vehicle and set it on fire."
"Jesus, Dallas, I thought we had a red flag."
"I've got a red flag. I've got one." Her eyes wheeled to Peabody. "I've got under fifty miles on my ride since those lying, cheating, sniveling shitheads said it was road ready. Road ready? Do you want me to tell you about road ready?"
"I would like that very much, Lieutenant. If you'd sheathe that knife first. ~ J.D. Robb

The bloodied angel must have one hell of a reputation because despite his condition, the perfectly healthy and beefy Burnt slams his sword back into his sheath. He ~ Susan Ee

The sword wears out its sheath, as it is sometimes said. That is my story. My passions have made me live, and my passions have killed me. What passions, it may be asked. Trifles, the most childish things in the world. Yet they affected me as much as if the possessions of Helen, or the throne of the Universe, had been at stake. ~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Childish fantasy, like the sheath over the bud, not only protects but curbs the terrible budding spirit, protects not only innocence from the world, but the world from the power of innocence. ~ Elizabeth Bowen

So I reached down into my workbasket, took my wee knife from its sheath, and went for his balls, ~ Diana Gabaldon

I will give you a sheath worthy of your sword. ~ Diana L. Paxson

Vores's settings fit Torgove's voice like a knife's sheath; they are alert to the harmony of every poem and to every shift of tonality within. ~ Richard Dyer

Come then, put away your sword in its sheath, and let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other. ~ Homer

It's an heirloom, isn't it?"

... "I got it from my father."

The tutor ran his hand along the sheathed blade. "This is a remarkable weapon - a knight's sword - tarnished with time and travel. You don't use it as often as the others. The bastard and short sword are tools to you, but this - ah - this is something else - something revered. It lays concealed in a paltry sheath, covered in clothes not its own. It doesn't belong there. This sword belongs to another time and place. It is part of a grand and glorious world where knights were different, loftier - virtuous. It rests in this false scabbard because the proper one has been lost, or perhaps, it waits for a quest yet to be finished. It longs for that single moment when it can shine forth in all its brilliance. When dream and destiny meet on a clear field, then and only then will it find its purpose. When it faces that honorable cause - that one worthy and desperate challenge for which it was forged and on which so much depends - it will find peace in the crucible of struggle. For good or ill, it will ring true or break. But the wandering, the waiting, the hiding will at last be over. This sword waits for the day when it can save the kingdom and win the lady. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas.
"Here, sir," said Peter.
"These are your presents," was the answer, "and they are tools, not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well." With these words he handed to Peter a shield and a sword. The shield was the color of silver and across it there ramped a red lion, as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it. The hilt of the sword was of gold and it had a sheath and a sword belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Peter to use. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very serious kind of present.
"Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas. "These are for you," and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must use the bow only in great need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the battle. It does not easily miss. And when you put this horn to your lips and blow it, then, wherever you are, I think help of some kind will come to you."
Last of all he said, "Lucy, Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her a little bottle of what looked like glass (but people said afterwards that it was made of diamond) and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is a cordial made of the juice of one of the fire-flowers that grow on the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a few drops of this will restore them. And the dagge ~ C.S. Lewis

The next thing she knew, his c#ck nudged at her entrance.
"Condom," she managed.
"Taken care of." He guided her hand to the base of his shaft so she could feel the sheath. "Ride me, Elizabeth."
With a shift of her hips, she brought him into her, igniting desire she thought spent as he stretched her, stroked her inner walls. ~ Emma Jay

Let us educate the younger generation to be shy in and out of season: to edge behind the furniture: to say spasmodic and ill-digested things: to twist their feet round the protective feet of sofas and armchairs: to feel that their hands belong to someone else
that they are objects, which they long to put down on some table away from themselves.
For shyness is the protective fluid within which our personalities are able to develop into natural shapes. Without this fluid the character becomes merely standardized or imitative: it is within the tender velvet sheath of shyness that the full flower of idiosyncrasy is nurtured: it is from this sheath alone that it can eventually unfold itself, coloured and undamaged. Let the shy understand, therefore, that their disability is not only an inconvenience, but also a privilege. Let them regard their shyness as a gift rather than as an affliction. Let them consider how intolerable are those of their contemporaries who are not also shy. ~ Harold Nicolson

I swear by the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by the holy iron that I hold, to give ye my fealty and pledge ye my loyalty to the name of the clan MacKenzie. If ever my hand shall be raised against ye in rebellion, I ask that this holy iron shall pierce my heart. He lowered the dirk, kissed it at the juncture of haft and tang, and thrust it home in its sheath. Still kneeling, he offered both hands clasped to Colum, who took them between his own and lifted them to his lips in acceptance of the oath so offered. Then he raised Dougal to his feet. ~ Diana Gabaldon

'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile standing-tuck! ~ William Shakespeare

The Prince and Princess. Savona. Tamara. Bran and Nee. Elenet. Good people and bad, silly and smart, they would all be helpless victims.
I'd left my sword in the saddle sheath, but I could still try. My heart crashed like a three-wheeled cart on a stone road. I must try, I thought, as I stepped forward.
"Meliara," Vidanric said quickly. He didn't look at me, but kept his narrowed gaze on Flauvic. "Don't. He knows how to use that knife."
Flauvic's smile widened. "Observant of you," he murmured, saluting with the blade. "I worked so hard to foster the image of the scholarly recluse. When did you figure out that my mother's plans served as my diversion?"
"As I was walking in here," Vidanric replied just as politely. "Recent events having precluded the luxury of time for reflection."
Flauvic looked pleased; any lesser villain would have smirked. He turned to me and, with a mockingly courteous gesture, said, "I fault no one for ambition. If you wish, you may gracefully exit now and save yourself some regrettably painful experience. I like you. Your ignorance is refreshing, and your passions amusing. For a time we could keep each other company."
I opened my mouth, trying to find an insult cosmic enough to express my rejection, but I realized just in time that resistance would only encourage him. He would enjoy my being angry and helpless, and I knew then what he would not enjoy. "Unfortunately," I said, striving to mimic Vidanric's most annoying Court ~ Sherwood Smith

When it was done and he took the mess away to bury, I lay back and breathed deeply, doing my best to settle my boiling stomach.
"All right," he said, "that's that. Now it's time to go, if we're to reach Lumm by green-change." He whistled, and the dapple-gray trotted obediently up, head tossing.
I realized I ought to have been more observant about chances for escape, and I wondered if there were any chance of taking him by surprise now.
First to see if I could even stand. As he went about the chore of resaddling the horse, I eased myself to my feet. I took my time at it, too, not just because my ankle was still protesting its recent rebandaging; I wanted to seem as decrepit as possible. My head felt weirdly light when I made it to my feet, and I had to hang on to a branch of the oak--my foot simply wouldn't take any weight. As soon as I tried it, my middle turned to water and I groped for the branch again.
Which meant if I did try anything, it was going to have to be within reach of the horse. I watched for a moment as he lashed down the saddlebags then rammed the rapier into the saddle sheath. There was already that knife at his belt. This did not look promising, I thought, remembering all the lessons on close fighting that Khesot had drilled into us. If your opponent is better armed and has the longer reach, then surprise is your only ally. And then you'd better hope he's half asleep. Well, the fellow had to be tired if he'd sat up all night, I thought, ~ Sherwood Smith

There." David points – a silver plastic sheath, the blade peeking out at one end. I grasp it. "Careful."
"I won't cut you." I hand it to him gently, the blade aimed toward myself.
"It's you I don't want to cut," he says. ~ A.J. Finn

I hope they're in town. I want to face them! Reign stood and brandished one of the two swords that she usually wore in sheaths crisscrossed on her back-in addition to the dagger sheath she customarily wore on her forearm. "I'll lunch on their balls!"
That was Reign's new threat: to lunch on enemies' balls. "Reege, when you threaten males with that, I don't think it has the result you intend. They think less Lunchables, more tea bag. ~ Kresley Cole

Somehow the killing of the giant spider, all alone by himself in the dark without the help of the wizard or the dwarves or of anyone else, made a great difference to Mr. Baggins. He felt a different person, and much fiercer and bolder in spite of an empty stomach, as he wiped his sword on the grass and put it back into its sheath. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Truth is hidden by the golden veil of the mundane. Pierce through this thin glittering sheath and know that you are the Sun ~ Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

Eena!"
Recognizing Ian's voice, Eena turned to find him approaching her from behind. He was entirely clad in body armor and gauntlets, cradling an open-faced helmet in one arm. Painted on his chest plate was a flaming, gold sword. From his side hung a leather sheath, a golden hilt peeking from the top.
"I'm glad you're back. You are going to stay and watch us play, aren't you?" He looked hopeful she'd say yes.
Eena smiled brightly. "I didn't know you were talented enough to be on a dueling team. Nice sword," she teased.
Ian blushed a degree. "Thanks. They call us the Savage Warriors!" He rasped their team name in a semi-ferocious voice. "Jerin's team captain."
She laughed at the showy designation. "And who's your challenger today?"
"The Dragon Slayers - Derian's team."
Eena's face fell. "Derian is playing?" She groaned internally, knowing she should've guessed as much. This was starting to look like another setup. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

This is one hell of a suicide note.
THE SUICIDE SOLILOQUY-
Yes! I've resolved the deed to do,
And this the place to do it;
The heart I'll rush a dagger through
Though I in hell should rue it!
Sweet steel! Come forth from out your sheath,
And glist'ning, speak your powers;
Rip up the organs of my breath,
And draw my blood in showers!
I strike! It quivers in that heart
Which drives me to this end;
I draw and kiss the bloody dart,
My last-my only friend! ~ Seth Grahame-Smith

Perhaps this is why not one of 800 sexologists attending a conference raised a hand when asked if they would trust a thin rubber sheath to protect them during intercourse with a known HIV-infected person. I don't blame them. They're not crazy, after all. Yet they're perfectly willing to tell your generation that "safe sex" is within reach and you can sleep around with impunity. It is a terrible lie. ~ James C. Dobson

Ask of Her, the mighty Mother.
Her reply puts this other
Question: What is Spring?-
Growth in every thing -
Flesh and fleece, fur and feather,
Grass and green world all together,
Star-eyed strawberry breasted
Throstle above Her nested
Cluster of bugle blue eggs thin
Forms and warms the life within,
And bird and blossom swell
In sod or sheath or shell. ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins

The gilded sheath of pity sometimes covers the dagger of envy. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

The barber in his shop, warmed by a good stove, was shaving a customer and casting from time to time a look towards this enemy, this frozen and brazen gamin, who had both hands in his pockets, but his wits evidently out of their sheath. ~ Victor Hugo

Has it ever occurred to you, Master Ninefingers, that a sword is different from other weapons? Axes and maces and so forth are lethal enough, but they hang on the belt like dumb brutes." He ran an eye over the hilt, plain cold metal scored with faint grooves for a good grip, glinting in the torchlight. "But a sword... a sword has a voice."

"Eh?"

"Sheathed it has little to say, to be sure, but you need only put your hand on the hilt and it begins to whisper in your enemy's ear." He wrapped his fingers tightly round the grip. "A gentle warning. A word of caution. Do you hear it?"

Logen nodded slowly. "Now," murmured Bayaz, "compare it to the sword half drawn." A foot length of metal hissed out of the sheath, a single silver letter shining near the hilt. The blade itself was dull, but its edge had a cold and frosty glint. "It speaks louder, does it not? It hisses a dire threat. It makes a deadly promise. Do you hear it?"

Logen nodded again, his eye fastened on that glittering edge. "Now compare it to the sword full drawn." Bayaz whipped the long blade from its sheath with a faint ringing sound, brought it up so that the point hovered inches from Logen's face. "It shouts now, does it not? It screams defiance! It bellows a challenge! Do you hear it?"

"Mmm," said Logen, leaning back and staring slightly crosseyed at the shining point of the sword.

Bayaz let it drop and slid it gently back into its scabbard, something ~ Joe Abercrombie

One sword keeps another in the sheath. ~ George Herbert

inner cheek, heart hammering, realizing he'd wasted two valuable bullets on a dime store scare. Only one bullet left. Then he was out of ammo. Roy checked his watch. Not even 4am yet. Hours to go before dawn. Might as well be days. Breathe. Remember to breathe. He took in air through his nostrils, tried to let it out slowly. His hands were shaking, and sweat was stinging his eyes despite the cool temperature. Roy holstered his sidearm, and drew his KA-BAR knife from his belt sheath, clutching it to his chest. Okay, stay calm. Find a place ~ Jack Kilborn

Staring at her face, she began to fancy her outer layer had begun to melt away while she wasn't paying attention, and something
some new skeleton
was emerging from beneath the softness of her accustomed self. With a deep, visceral ache, she wished her true form might prove to be a sleek and shining one, like a stiletto blade slicing free of an ungainly sheath. Like a bird of prey losing its hatchling fluff to hunt in cold, magnificent skies. That she might become something glittering, something startling, something dangerous. ~ Laini Taylor

Whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm.
yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die. ~ William Shakespeare

She was wearing a simple silver sheath cut within an inch of indecency, curving round her slender shoulders and then falling away to expose the smooth white skin of her back and just a hint of the soft round curve of her breasts. She had on no jewellery, only a pale wash of lipstick, and again the black halo of hair was arranged so that it looked almost wind tossed. Yet her dark tresses shone, framing her face with a soft, unearthly light. Next to the other women at the table, with their diamonds, heavy strands of pearls, and meticulously groomed faces and hair, she seemed feral and bewitching. The impact of her beauty lay in her confidence and her utter lack of self-awareness. In contrast, others appeared to be trying too hard, careful and staid. ~ Kathleen Tessaro

But now, at the table, behind the fall of the tablecloth, behind the sheath of skin, hanging head downwards between cliffs of bone, was the baby, its arms all but clasped about its neck, its face aslant upon its arms, hair painted upon its skull, closed, secret eyes, a diver poised in albumen, ancient and epic, shot with delicate spasms, as old as Pharaoh in its tomb. ~ Enid Bagnold

The Veil of Consciousness is a thin sheath that
I wear to view the transparency of the life that
Surrounds me. ~ Sandra Proto

When I first began modeling, I was very conventional looking. I had hair down to my waist in a side parting - almost church-like. But beneath the sheath of hair lay this Amazonian, strong-looking frame. ~ Erin O'Connor

A sword needs a sheath, heh, and a wedding needs a bedding. ~ George R R Martin

But we are pledged to set the world free. Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret. For in this enlightened age, when men believe not even what they see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest strength. It would be at once his sheath and his armor, and his weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls for the safety of one we love. For the good of mankind, and for the honor and glory of God. ~ Bram Stoker

Antonia: I meant to tell you, and then forgot: call a spade a spade, and say 'arse', 'prick', 'cunt', and 'fuck', otherwise the only people who'll understand you will be the scholars of the Capranica think tank - you and your 'rose in the ring', your 'obelisk in the arsenal' your 'leek in the garden', your 'bolt in the door', your 'key in the lock', your 'pestle in the mortar', your 'nightingale in the nest', your 'sapling in the ditch', your 'syringe in the flap-valve', your 'sword in the sheath'; and the same goes for 'the stake', 'the crozier', the parsnip', 'the little monkey', 'his thingummy', 'her thingummy', 'the apples', 'the leaves of the mass book', 'that thingy', 'the graceful whatyamacallit', 'that whatsit', 'that doings', 'that latest news', 'the handle', 'the dart', 'that carrot', 'the root' and all the other shit that comes out of your mouth, but there you go, pussyfooting around. Let your yes mean yes, your no, no, and otherwise, just shut it. ~ Pietro Aretino