The Midnight Sea Quotes

And you joined the Water Dogs because of her"
" Yes. I thought it would make her stop hunting me"
"Did it?"
"No. "I turned so I could look at him. "You did"
"Me?"
"I was too busy worrying about what a thorn in my side you were to obsess about it anymore. One nightmare at a time please. ~ Kat Ross

Startled, I accidently knock over my inkwell. A black tsunami of ink sprawls out across the page, engulfing the tiny village of my words. They are swept away into the midnight sea. Gone forever. I am bereft. ~ Danger Slater

There is a solitude, which each and every one of us has always carried with him, more inaccessible than the ice-cold mountains, more profound than the midnight sea; the solitude of self. Our inner being, which we call ourself, no eye nor touch of man or angel has ever pierced. ~ Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Even if I could be free I would choose you… ~ Kat Ross

Mountains dream. But a single dream my last a thousand years. ~ Kat Ross

We're the light against the darkness, never forget that Nazafareen ~ Kat Ross

I would wait for him as long as I had to. A hundred years, a thousand. It didn't matter. Only that we were together, and no one would ever take him from me again. ~ Kat Ross

Death stared at her. He'd never before experienced an unsatisfied customer. He was at a loss. Finally he gave up. BEGONE, YOU BLACK AND MIDNIGHT HAG, he said. The ~ Terry Pratchett

Coup de foudre; perhaps it was real. One went from believing, when twenty, that it was the one kind of love that was real, to believing, once closer to forty, that it was not only fragile but false
the inferior, infantile, doomed love of twenty-year-olds. Somewhere between, the norms of one culture of love were discarded, and those of the other assumed. When did it happen, at midnight of one's thirty-first birthday? On the variable day that, while browsing a grocery-store aisle with a man, the repeating refrain of the rest of one's life for the first time resounds in one's ear? ~ Susan Choi

A certain king had a beautiful garden, and in the garden stood a tree which bore golden apples. These apples were always counted, and about the time when they began to grow ripe it was found that every night one of them was gone. The king became very angry at this, and ordered the gardener to keep watch all night under the tree. The gardener set his eldest son to watch; but about twelve o'clock he fell asleep, and in the morning another of the apples was missing. Then the second son was ordered to watch; and at midnight he too fell asleep, and in the morning another apple was gone. Then the third son offered to keep watch; but the gardener at first would not let him, for fear some harm should come to him: however, at last he consented, and the young man laid himself under the tree to watch. As the clock struck twelve he heard a rustling noise in the air, and a bird came flying that was of pure gold; and as it was snapping at one of the apples with its beak, the gardener's son jumped up and shot an arrow at it. But the arrow did the bird no harm; only it dropped a golden feather from its tail, and then flew away. The golden feather was brought to the king in the morning, and all the council was called together. Everyone agreed that it was worth more than all the wealth of the kingdom: but the king said, 'One feather is of no use to me, I must have the whole bird. ~ Jacob Grimm

You're like a Boy Scout, huh?"

It's my attempt at flirting - probably only slightly less effective than Dirty Dancing's "I carried a watermelon."

He does the mouth-quirk thing again.

"Not even close."

There's a bad-boy edge in the way he says it - a heavy hint of the forbidden - that gets my heart pounding and my jaw eager to drop.

To cover my reaction, I nod vigorously.

"Right, me neither . . . Never been a - "

Too vigorously.

So vigorously that my elbow slips in the flour on the counter and I almost knock myself unconscious. But Logan's not only big and brawny - he's quick. Fast enough to catch me by the arm and waist to steady me before I bash the side of my head against the butcher block.

"Are you all right, Ellie?"

He leans down, looking at me intently - a look I'll see in my dreams tonight . . . assuming I can sleep. And, wow, Logan has great eyelashes. Thick and lengthy and midnight black. I bet they're not the only part of him that's thick and lengthy.

My gaze darts down to his promised land, where his pants are just tight enough to confirm my suspicions - this bodyguard may have a service revolver in his pocket, but he's got a magnum in his pants.

Yum.

"Yeah, I'm good." I sigh. "Just . . . you know . . . tired. But I'm cool . . . totally cool."

And I shake it off, like I actually am ~ Emma Chase

For the liquor of Miss Amelia has a special quality of its own. It is clean and sharp on the tongue, but once down a man it glows inside him for a long time afterward. And that is not all. It is known that if a message is written with lemon juice on a clean sheet of paper there will be no sign of it. But if the paper is held for a moment to the fire then the letters turn brown and the meaning becomes clear. Imagine that the whisky is the fire and that the message is that which is known only in the soul of a man – then the worth of Miss Amelia's liquor can be understood. Things that have gone unnoticed, thoughts that have been harbored far back in the dark mind, are suddenly recognized and comprehended. A spinner who has thought only of the loom, the dinner pail, the bed, and then the loom again – this spinner might drink some on a Sunday and come across a marsh lily. And in his palm he might hold this flower, examining the golden dainty cup, and in him suddenly might come a sweetness keen as pain. A weaver might look up suddenly and see for the first time the cold, weird radiance of midnight January sky, and a deep fright at his own smallness stop his heart. Such things as these, then, happen when a man has drunk Miss Amelia's liquor. He may suffer, or he may be spent with joy – but the experience has shown the truth; he has warmed his soul and seen the message hidden there. ~ Carson McCullers

Dana drew in a sharp breath. "Reach out your hand, sis. Jon's right beside you." Through the eerie green light of his enhanced night vision, Eli watched Dana slowly extend her hand, palm up. Jon shifted closer. "I'm here," he whispered. He touched her hand with his fingertips at first, afraid a strong grip might send her into a panic. He wanted to hold her in his arms, doubted she'd let him. His emotions rioting all over the spectrum, Jon inched closer, moving slow until her fingers wrapped around his hand and tugged. He swallowed hard, longed to gather her into his arms and never let go. The clock in his head, however, denied the chance for more than a minute or two at most. Her hand still in his, Jon sat beside Dana, moved his hands to her forearms and let her make the next move. Jon's heart almost leaped out of his chest when she flung herself into his arms. He pulled her close, his throat tight. "I've got you, baby. No one will take you from me, I promise." He placed a soft kiss on her neck. "We'll have to fight our way out of here. Can you run? ~ Rebecca Deel

It was customary for the vows to be taken at midnight, during the new moon, for it was in the darkest hours that companionship was needed most. ~ Samantha Shannon

In the world's audience hall, the simple blade of grass sits on the same carpet with the sunbeams, and the stars of midnight. ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I had been making a lot of family oriented movies, which I also like. But I still have a passion for the midnight audience and for midnight movies. ~ Nicolas Cage

I wanted to say, I would rather have you for a little time than no time at all.
I will remember you perfectly. My memory will touch your skin, your lips. The memory will hurt, but it will be mine. ~ Marie Rutkoski

Awakened at midnight
by the sound of the water jar
cracking from the ice ~ Matsuo Basho

I laugh at him, and behind us, several Inquisitors stir in surprise at the sound. Only Magiano can coax joy out of me so easily. ~ Marie Lu

You have until midnight."
The silence swallowed them all again. Every head turned, every eye in the place seemed to have found Harry, to hold him frozen in the glare of thousands of invisible beams. Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table and he recognized Pansy Parkinson as she raised a shaking arm and screamed, "But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him!"
Before Harry could speak, there was a massive movement. The Gryffindors in front of him had risen and stood facing, not Harry, but the Slytherins. Then the Hufflepuffs stood, and almost at the same moment, the Ravenclaws, all of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking toward Pansy instead, and Harry, awestruck and overwhelmed, saw wands emerging everywhere, pulled from beneath cloaks and from under sleeves. ~ J.K. Rowling

Let it never be said by future generations that indifference, cynicism or selfishness made us fail to live up to the ideals of humanism which the Nobel Peace Prize encapsulates. Let the strivings of us all, prove Martin Luther King Jr. to have been correct, when he said that humanity can no longer be tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war. ~ Nelson Mandela

Say it."
"Don't do this to me ... " I whispered painfully. "We can't do this again."
"You're a horrible liar," Eli growled as he pressed his fingers into my thighs. He watched me, his gaze all-consuming, and said, "Your eyes are as dark as a castle moat by midnight, mi cielo. Lower your drawbridge and let me cross; let me in."
"Eli, I-"
"Forget him. For the next hour and a half, you're going to do everything that makes you wonder in this world. And then I'm going to love you again. ~ Nadege Richards

Talent," she said, "is Gods gift to you. What you do with it, is your gift back to him." ... The Blue Edge of Midnight, pg. 3. ~ Jonathan King

It's as if Thomas Kinkade and Dante were at a party, and one turned to the other sometime after midnight and uttered that classic line You know, we really should work together sometime ... ~ Rob Bell

What if we take away the cool music and the cushioned chairs? What if the screens are gone and the stage is no longer decorated? What if the air conditioning is off and the comforts are removed? Would his Word still be enough for his people to come together? At Brook Hills we decided to try to answer this question. We actually stripped away the entertainment value and invited people to come together simply to study God's Word for hours at a time. We called it Secret Church. We set a date - one Friday night - when we would gather from six o'clock in the evening until midnight, and for six hours we would do nothing but study the Word and pray. We would interrupt the six-hour Bible study periodically to pray for our brothers and sisters around the world who are forced to gather secretly. We would also pray for ourselves, that we would learn to love the Word as they do. ~ David Platt

He looked at her in bittersweet despair. "Sometimes, Kate, when I'm inside you and your arms are around me, I'm human again. There's a beginning and an end to my life again. And all because of your love. It's been a gift to me, one I've never deserved. But I cherished it."
And maybe he'd destroyed it with the ungodly truth. He didn't know. He drew
a shaky breath, battered by a fresh wave of regret, and his voice trembled. "I thought I had broken your heart a while ago. I didn't know how to make you hear me, and I knew that by telling you the truth, I'd lose you. But here you sit. You haven't flipped out, not visibly anyway, nor accused me of being a liar. And you haven't run in terror, now that you're truly free to go. I don't know what to think. Tell me, Kate ... have I lost you? ~ Shelby Reed

In a society that is essentially designed to organize, direct, and gratify mass impulses, what is there to minister to the silent zones of man as an individual? Religion? Art? Nature? No, the church has turned religion into standardized public spectacle, and the museum has done the same for art. The Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls have been looked at so much that they've become effete, sucked empty by too many stupid eyes. What is there to minister to the silent zones of man as an individual? How about a cold chicken bone on a paper plate at midnight, how about a lurid lipstick lengthening or shortening at your command, how about a Styrofoam nest abandoned by a 'bird' you've never known, how about a pair of windshield wipers pursuing one another futilely while you drive home alone through a downpour, how about something beneath a seat touched by your shoe at the movies, how about worn pencils, cute forks, fat little radios, boxes of bow ties, and bubbles on the side of a bathtub? Yes, these are the things, these kite strings and olive oil cans and Valentine hearts stuffed with nougat, that form the bond between the autistic vision and the experiential world, it is to show these things in their true mysterious light that is the purpose of the moon. ~ Tom Robbins

She boasted the general battle-ax demeanor of an especially strict governess. This was the kind of woman who took her tea black, smoked cigars after midnight, played a mean game of cribbage, and kept a bevy of repulsive little dogs.
Alexia liked her immediately. ~ Gail Carriger

She'd been there for a few hours when Sawyer showed up. It was after midnight, but there he was, walking around the track. The moon was out and he was wearing white shorts and a white polo, so she could see him very clearly from her seat. She didn't move, so she didn't know what made him look up. But he did, and her breath caught, as it did every time he looked at her in school. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then he crossed the track and walked up the bleachers towards her. Sawyer had never approached her before, but he had always watched her at school. A lot of people watched her, so that in itself wasn't unusual. But he was always so deliberate about it. She'd often wondered if that was why she had these strange feelings for him, because she thought he really saw her. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

How do you talk to a new love about an old one, especially so early in a relationship? If I'd brought it up earlier in the week, spilled the whole story about J and me, it might have appeared I was being way too open way too soon. Plus, when I was with Marlboro Man, right or wrong, J hardly crossed my mind. I was too busy staring at Marlboro Man's eyes. Memorizing his muscles. Breathing in his masculinity. Getting drunk on its vapors.
But now, standing in the dark and feeling so close to him, I wished I'd told Marlboro Man the whole story. Because as uncomfortable as the truth was, the incessant after-midnight phone calls were worse. For all Marlboro Man knew, it was my next date for the evening--or worse, my sugar daddy, Rocco, wanting to know where I was. ~ Ree Drummond

Silver

The liquid ebony stretches out
and mingles with the midnight sky
where high above,
as on a throne,
is perched that perfect sphere of silver.
She looks upon the lapping waves,
the calm, all serene;
She looks upon the rocky shore,
watching dark nothing
break in two and become
tiny globs of light.
The soft white foam creeps
upon the smooth beige land
to darken it but for a moment,
only to retreat back to its
blackened home
and hide among the vastness.
The silver moon smiles openly,
casting a healthy grin
upon the rippled water below,
sending gifts of silver
to float on seas of woe. ~ Rebecca Harris

Your voice sounds like a midnight fire. All warm and worn in and golden. I could listen to you talk forever."
"I could never do that".
She laughed at him. He brought his lips to her ear.
"Your scent is like violets early in spring," he whispered. Then he laughed at himself because though it was true, he sounded like the worst kind of fool. ~ Veronica Rossi

It is daffodil time, so the robins all cry, For the sun's a big daffodil up in the sky, And when down the midnight the owl call to-whoo! Why, then the round moon is a daffodil too; Now sheer to the bough-tops the sap starts to climb, So, merry my masters, it's daffodil time. ~ Clinton Scollard

Oh, the different consciousness between the grieving and the dying! One sees midnight, the other joyful sunrise. One sees death, the other Life as never before. ~ Richard Bach

I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.
(Pause. Krapp's lips move. No sound.)
Past midnight. Never knew such silence. The earth might be uninhabited. ~ Samuel Beckett

I don't think people cry reading 'Midnight's Children,' but a lot of people seem to cry watching the movie. ~ Salman Rushdie

The first thing I see when I get home from the hospital after midnight is the glint of the stainless steel oven in the semidarkness of the kitchen. The air smells sweet and eggy. I walk to the oven and pull open the door. Six white ramekins hold six perfect-looking crème caramels, and I wonder if they're safe to eat. It's been more than three hours since I turned off the oven. I remember a Swedish chef telling me years ago when I worked as a prep cook that unrefrigerated food will keep for four hours, but he also cleaned his fingernails with the tip of his chef's knife, so who knows.
I pick up one of the dishes and sniff it. It smells fine. Without taking off my coat, I dig into a drawer for a spoon and eat the crème caramel in five seconds flat. The texture is silky and it tastes sweet and custardy, if not perfect. I pull the rest of the dishes from the oven to put in the fridge, telling myself one was enough. An extra treat at the end of a hard day. I've put three ramekins into the refrigerator when I can't stand it and dig into the second, eating more slowly this time, slipping out of my coat, savoring the custard on my tongue. Two is definitely enough, I'm thinking as I lick the inside of the cup, two is perfect. I'm picking up the remaining cup to put in the fridge but I turn instead, head for the bedroom with ramekin in hand. At least wait until you've gotten undressed and in bed, I told myself, surely you can wait. I make it as far as the doorway and I'm digging m ~ Jennie Shortridge

And at midnight there came an apparition in hell. A handsome dark-eyed man with a dagger-like beard, in a tailcoat, stepped onto the veranda and cast a regal glance over his domain. They used to say, the mystics used to say, that there was a time when the handsome man wore not a tailcoat but a wide leather belt with pistol butts sticking out from it, and his raven hair was tied with scarlet silk, and under his command a brig sailed the Caribbean under a black death flag with a skull and crossbones.
But no, no! The seductive mystics are lying, there are no Caribbean Seas in the world, no desperate freebooters to sail them, no corvette chases after them, no cannon smoke drifts across the waves. There is nothing, and there was nothing! There is that sickly linden over there, there is the cast-iron fence, and the boulevard beyond it…And the ice is melting in the bowl, and at the next table you see someone's bloodshot, bovine eyes, and you're afraid, afraid…Oh, gods, my gods, poison, bring me poison!... ~ Mikhail Bulgakov

I can be absolutely comfortable with an apocalyptic Jesus because he was simply wrong. As long as he's wrong I don't worry about him, and basically everyone else who was announcing in the year 2000 at midnight, the end of the world is coming, I expect them to be wrong. Now if they're right of course, I'll be very uncomfortable that night. But as long as everyone for 2000 years has been wrong about the apocalypse, I can be quite comfortable with it. It's space fiction. ~ John Dominic Crossan