Twisted Ankle Quotes

She hated colds. There was nothing romantic about them. Fainting spells were dramatic, life-threatening illnesses were interesting, and a handsome prince could always rescue you in the case of a twisted ankle, but all colds produced were puffy eyes and a red nose. ~ Hayden Wand

I wanted to tell him then how loneliness can become a tangible thing, after a while. It's something that you carry with you on your shoulder, hold up like a friend with a twisted ankle. It sits with you and walks the streets with you. It's a selfish thing and it refuses to let go or even split its attention. Of course, like a particularly annoying itch, you can convince yourself for a while that it's not there. You can go to libraries and sit with friends and drink more coffee than your body can handle and you can feel surrounded and happy. But eventually you have to scratch it. Loneliness steals you away from the world, as if you've been cut loose and you're lost, untethered, somewhere far above everyone else. Just you and this feeling that you just need someone to put a hand on your shoulder and turn you around, to look at you and tell you the three words that matter most: You're not alone. Don't be scared. I am here. It's not about love or lust or any other inadequate word; it's about being touched and realising that you are no longer by yourself. ~ Chloe Rattray

The center of every man's existence is a dream. Death, disease, insanity, are merely material accidents, like a toothache or a twisted ankle. That these brutal forces always besiege and often capture the citadel does not prove that they are the citadel. ~ G.K. Chesterton

That makes about as much sense as lopping off your foot to avoid twisting an ankle. ~ Eileen Wilks

It must be very tiring for the Consort," Lorelei said next to me.
[ ... ]
"Perhaps a mount could be brought ... ?" Lorelei suggested.
Out of a corner I saw both Barabas and George freeze. Yes, I know I've been insulted. Settle down. "Thank you for your concern. I can manage."
"Please, it's no trouble at all. You could hurt yourself. I know that even something minor like a twisted ankle would present a big problem for a human ... "
Do not punch the pack princess; do not punch the pack princess ...
"We wouldn't want you to struggle to keep up."
Okay, she went too far. I gave her a nice big smile.
Curran's face snapped into a neutral expression. "We just got here, baby. It's too early for you to start killing people. ~ Ilona Andrews

You could let me go, Joshua," I plead for the millionth time.
"If you truly knew me, Toy, you would understand that I can't." I think his smile is tinged with sadness. At least, if it were anyone else, that would be a sad smile. "I simply can't."
How can anyone truly know someone as fucked up as you, Joshua?
I step back out of his arms, as far as I can go with my ankle still chained to the chair, and my body cries out at the loss of his warmth.
He bends down and uncuffs my ankle.
But he doesn't set me free ~ Ginger Talbot

And may God be merciful, because these twisted men will not. ~ Brom

My dear Mr FitzGeorge!' cried Lady Slane. 'You really mustn't talk as though my life had been a tragedy. I had everything that most women would covet: position, comfort, children, and a husband I loved. I had nothing to complain of - nothing.'
'Except that you were defrauded of the one thing that mattered. Nothing matters to an artist except the fulfilment of his gift. You know that as well as I do. Frustrated, he grows crooked like a tree twisted into an unnatural shape. All meaning goes out of life, and life becomes existence - a makeshift. Face it, Lady Slane. Your children, your husband, your splendour, were nothing but obstacles that kept you from yourself. They were what you chose to substitute for your real vocation. You were too young, I suppose, to know any better, but when you chose that life you sinned against the light. ~ Vita Sackville-West

I only wanted books - nothing more - only books, only words, it was never anything but words - give them to me, I don't have any! Look, see, I don't have any! Look, I'm naked, barefoot, I'm standing before you - nothing in my pants pockets, nothing under my shirt or under my arm! They're not stuck in my beard! Inside - look - there aren't any inside either - everything's been turned inside out, there's nothing there! Only guts! I'm hungry! I'm tormented!...
What do you mean there's nothing? Then how can you talk and cry, what words are you frightened with, which ones do you call out in your sleep? Don't nighttime cries roam inside you, a thudding twilight murmur, a fresh morning shriek? There they are words - don't you recognize them? They're writhing inside you, trying to get out! There they are! They're yours! From wood, stone, roots, growing in strength, a dull mooing and whining in the gut is trying to get out; a piece of tongue curls, the torn nostrils swell in torment. That's how the bewitched, beaten, and twisted snuffle with a mangy wail, their boiled white eyes locked up in closets, their vein torn out, backbone gnawed; that's right, that's how your pushkin writhe, or mushkin - what is in my name for you? - pushkin-mushkin, flung upon the hillock like a shaggy black idol, forever flattened by fences, up to his ears in di, the pushkin-stump, legless, six-fingered, biting his tongue, nose in his chest - and his head can't be raised! - pushkin, tearing off the pois ~ Tatyana Tolstaya

I told him that my cat was on fire and he didn't even hear me! On fire, Victoria! And he didn't care!"
"Aud, that is so fucking twisted that I don't even know where to start."
"Okay, I know, but it had to be drastic."
"That's not drastic, that's sadistic. You've got your –tics mixed up."
"Will you please focus on the issue at hand? Evan doesn't listen to what I'm saying!"
"And this is news?"
"Should I break up with him?"
"Do you want to break up with him?"
"I don't know. Distract me from feeling miserable."
"Umm… ummm… I got new shoes."
"Woo."
"Wanna come over and try them on?"
"I'll be there in ten minutes. ~ Robin Benway

I settled on the floor and whispered to Sam, "I want you to listen to me, if you can." I leaned the side of my face against his ruff and remembered the golden wood he had shown me so long ago. I remembered the way the yellow leaves, the color of Sam's eyes, fluttered and twisted, crashing butterflies, on their way to the ground. The slender white trunks of the birches, creamy and smooth as human skin. I remembered Sam standing in the middle of the wood, his arms stretched out, a dark, solid form in the dream of the trees. His coming to me, me punching his chest, the soft kiss. I remembered every kiss we'd ever had, and I remembered every time I'd curled in his human arms. I remembered the soft warmth of his breath on the back of my neck while we slept.
I remembered Sam. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

I got love from my family. I don't really need love from a paper, you know what I mean? I can't get too happy because somebody said something nice about me. I appreciate it, but let's not get it twisted - this is not changing my life. ~ Chris Rock

My father looked as if I'd just gutted him, and I felt a pang of regret - but it was mingled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. It felt good to hurt his feelings - it was payback for the way his choices had irrevocably damaged my own. ~ Ernest Cline

You are fifty different kinds of twisted."
"Only fifty? Val, you wound me. ~ Nenia Campbell

I'd take her to the top of the widow's tower at Ainsdale Castle, late at night, and we'd watch the moon rise. The widow's tower was very high but she wasn't afraid. Sometimes I'd steal a pie from the kitchens and we'd picnic up there. I brought up a blanket, too, so she wouldn't have to sit on the bare stone floor."
Mrs. Crumb made an aborted movement, as if she'd meant to turn to face him and then changed her mind.
He let the wineglass dangle by his side. "I told her a rabbit lived on the moon and she believed me. She believed everything I told her then."
"What rabbit?"
"There." He roused himself, straightening.
He drew back, fitting her against his chest and setting his chin on her shoulder. She smelled of tea and housekeeperly things, and she was warm, so warm. He caught up her right hand in his and traced the moon with it. "D'you see? There are the long ears, there the tail, there the forepaws, there the back."
"I see," she whispered.
"I told her the rabbit had lavender fur and ate pink moon clover up there." His mouth twisted, as he remembered. "She'd watch me with big blue eyes, her mouth half-open, a bit of piecrust on her dress. She hung on every word."
He could hear her breath, could feel the tremble of her limbs. Did she fear him?
"D'you believe me?" he asked against her ear, his lips wet with wine. She was a housekeeper and housekeepers didn't matter in the grand schemes of kings and dukes and little girls who wished upo ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

My little ankle-strap sandals curled with embarrassment for her. ~ Christopher Hitchens

I'm more than twisted. I'm the worst kind of vampire ... But you're the one who's craving me, so what does that make you? ~ Lindsay J. Pryor

Love is the feeling we have for those we care deeply about and hold in high regard. It can be light as the hug we give a friend or heavy as the sacrifices we make for our children. It can be romantic, platonic, familial, fleeting, everlasting, conditional, unconditional, imbued with sorrow, stoked by sex, sullied by abuse, amplified by kindness, twisted by betrayal, deepened by time, darkened by difficulty, leavened by generosity, nourished by humor, and "loaded with promises and commitments" that we may or may not want or keep. ~ Cheryl Strayed

„Like‟ is a mild sort of word for what Con and I have," Collin replied, leaning forward to touch noses with the big doofus. Constantine half-closed his eyes and twitched his whiskers back. "I‟d go with the deeply twisted interpersonal relationship that a hero has for his nemesis, sort of a Batman/Joker thing, if the Joker suddenly started going down on Batman like a porn-star on Viagra."
Jeff looked at him in alarm. "Jesus, Sparky, stop touching my cat! ~ Amy Lane

You ready to go home?" I asked.
"I've been ready to go home all night. I still hate you."
"You need to find new insults. That's getting old."
"Fuck off."
Grinning, I climbed onto my bike. She climbed up behind me, tucking in tight and wrapping her arms around my waist, tits pressed against my back. For the first time in forever things in my world felt right, twisted as that sounds.
She was mine. She'd always be mine. ~ Joanna Wylde

To reach the farthest chamber of Lascaux, it's likely a man had to snuff out his light, lower himself down a shaft with a rope made of twisted fibers, and then rekindle his lamp in the dark so as to draw the woolly rhinoceros, the half horse, and the raging bison there. A long spear transfixes that bison, and entrails pour from its side. Beneath its front hooves lies the one painted man in all of Lascaux: prone, spindly wounded, disguised behind a bird mask. And below him, until its discovery in 196o, lay a spoon-shaped lamp carved of red sandstone ... Hold it again as it once was held, and the animals will emerge out of darkness as you pass. Nothing stays still. Shadows nestle in the cavities; a flicker of light across pale protruding rock turns a hoof or raises a head. One shape recedes as another emerges, and everything lingers in the imagination. ~ Jane Brox

But history could be twisted and warped to suit the person telling it. ~ Elly Blake

A second later, Ron had snatched his arm back from around her shoulders; she had dropped The Monster Book of Monsters on his foot. The book had broken free from its restraining belt and snapped viciously at Ron's ankle.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Hermione cried as Harry wrenched the book from Ron's leg and retied it shut.
"What are you doing with all those books anyway?" Ron asked, limping back to his bed.
"Just trying to decide which ones to take with us," said Hermione. "When we're looking for the Horcruxes."
"Oh, of course," said Ron, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I forgot we'll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library."
"Ha ha," said Hermione, looking down at Spellman's Syllabary. ~ J.K. Rowling

Assessing Miller's rebuttal and the 1895 convention, W.E.B. Du Bois made a sobering observation. Miller had, on some fundamental level, misunderstood the aims of the white men who sought to destroy Reconstruction. From Du Bois's perspective, the 1895 constitutional convention was not an exercise in moral reform, or an effort to purge the state of corruption. These were simply bywords embraced to cover for the restoration of a despotic white supremacy. The problem was not that South Carolina's Reconstruction-era government had been consumed by unprecedented graft. Indeed, it was the exact opposite. The very success Miller highlighted, the actual record of 'Negro government' in South Carolina, undermined white supremacy. To redeem white supremacy, that record was twisted, mocked, and caricatured into something that better resembled the prejudices of white South Carolina. 'If there was one thing that South Carolina feared more than bad Negro government,' wrote Du Bois, 'it was good Negro government. ~ Ta-Nehisi Coates

She was wired into my heart. Twisted and kinked and threaded right through. ~ Carol Rifka Brunt

I make a show of smoothing down my hair – a lost cause at this point. "Ah, that. It's getting to the stage where it deserved a name. The Knotted Nest? The Twisted Tresses?"
"What about the Terrible Tangle?"
I nod. "That has serious possibilities."
"The Matted Mess?" he suggests. ~ Amanda Bouchet

We all must abide by the rules, but some of us must follow more than others...Like Sweet Potato and her twisted leg, we have been born with a defect--the defect of not being white. Only, unlike Sweet Potato's case, there is no correcting it. There is only correcting the vision of those who view it as a defect, though not even a war and Reconstruction have been able to do that. ~ Stacey Lee, The Downstairs Girl

Alessandro! Will!!" He could hear Brianna's voice a few seconds before his head came up through to the next floor.
Stubborn, bloody woman! he cursed.
"Oh God, Will!" Bree screamed. "What happened?" She rushed towards them, coughing as she grabbed for her son. He shifted his weight to hand him over to her, but the movement sent another bolt of screaming pain from his ankle up to his leg and Alessandro lost his footing, falling back into the basement.
Alessandro!" Bree screamed, and then he heard no more. ~ E. Jamie

With great care, Amy opened the cellar door.
With ladylike demeanor, she descended the stairs. And as her reward, she had the satisfaction of catching His Mighty Lordship sitting on the cot, his knee crooked sideways and his ankle pulled toward him, cursing at the manacle.
"I got it out of your own castle," she said.
Northcliff jumped like a lad caught at a mischief. "My . . . castle?" At once he realized what she meant. "Here on the island, you mean. The old ancestral pile."
"Yes." She strolled farther into the room. "I went down into the dungeons, crawled around in among the spider webs and the skeleton of your family's enemies - "
"Oh, come on." He straightened his leg. "There aren't any skeletons."
"No," she admitted.
"We had them removed years ago."
For one instant, she was shocked. So his family had been ruthless murderers! Then she realized he was smirking. The big, pompous jackass was making a jest of her labors. "If I could have found manacles that were in good shape I'd have locked both your legs to the wall."
"Why stop there? Why not my hands, too?" He moved his leg to make the chain clink loudly. "Think of your satisfaction at the image of my starving, naked body chained to the cold stone - "
"Starving?" She cast a knowledgeable eye at the empty breakfast tray, then allowed her lips to curve into a sarcastic smile.
"You'd love a look at my naked body, though, wouldn't you?" He fixed his gaze on her, and for on ~ Christina Dodd

There was no name for the disease; his body had gone insane, forgotten the blueprint by which human beings were built. Even now the disease still lives on in his children. Not in our bodies, but in our souls. We exist where normal human children are expected to be; we're even shaped the same. But each of us in our own way has been replaced by an imitation child, shaped out of a twisted, fetid, lipidous goiter that grew out of Father's soul. ~ Orson Scott Card

I blink rapidly, breaking our reverie and force myself to focus on something,anything, other than his beauty. Or his body. A body I want pressed against mine, limbs and tongues twisted and tangled, our flesh contortioned into X-rated abstract art ... ~ S.L. Jennings

I love dark humor. I love things that are so grounded in life, but just happen to be just a little bit twisted because my sense of humor is a little bit twisted. I love jokes that shouldn't be funny, but are. Those types of things just really make me laugh. ~ Rockmond Dunbar

Jen shakes her head sadly and I can see her lower lip trembling, the tear that's starting to form in the corner of her eye. I can't touch her, kiss her, love her, or even, as it turns out, have a conversation that doesn't degenerate into angry reincriminations in the first three minutes. But I can still make her sad, and for now, I'll have to be satisfied with that. And it would be easier, so much easier, if she didn't insist on being so goddamned beautiful, so gym-toned and honey-haired and wide-eyed and vulnerable. Because even now, even after all that she's done to me, there's still something in her eyes that makes me want to shelter her at any cost, even though I know it's really me who needs the protection. It would be so much easier if she wasn't Jen. But she is, and where there was once the purest kind of love, there is now a snake pit of fury and resentment and a new dark and twisted love that hurts more than all the rest put together. ~ Jonathan Tropper

I like playing interesting people, I like playing slightly twisted people. I like playing people who have large appetites who are kind of a bit larger than life. ~ Ron Perlman

And sometimes,' Anne said softly, 'there's just plain love, Ellie. no reason for it, no need to explain'
Then she leaned back on the couch, crossed her ankle over her knee and grinned. 'Perfect love,' she said.
'And what's that like?'
'When you find it, lil sis. You'll know. ~ Jacqueline Woodson

She was luminous. Her red hair had been braided a dozen ways, all swirled together in a high shaggy twist. Her eyelids were shimmering green, her lips crimson and matte. She wore black vintage ankle-high motorcycle boots. She was lethal. ~ Lauren Kate

I found myself in a place that was thorny, but because I was so used to being there, it bore out certain twisted sensations of comfort. It's a place called «alone». ~ Carol Plum-Ucci

Every song you write you think is the last one you're going to manage. You put everything you've got into the song, and you've twisted it and pulled at it and dug in and found a way to complete it. To get another one is the trick. ~ Jakob Dylan

I was still in high school when I decided I didn't want children. My somewhat twisted rationale was that I would never inflict childhood on anybody, especially not someone I loved. I never changed my mind. ~ Ann Patchett

There is something very strange and unaccountable about a tow-line. You roll it up with as much patience and care as you would take to fold up a new pair of trousers, and five minutes afterwards, when you pick it up, it is one ghastly, soul-revolting tangle.

I do not wish to be insulting, but I firmly believe that if you took an average tow-line, and stretched it out straight across the middle of a field, and then turned your back on it for thirty seconds, that, when you looked round again, you would find that it had got itself altogether in a heap in the middle of the field, and had twisted itself up, and tied itself into knots, and lost its two ends, and become all loops; and it would take you a good half-hour, sitting down there on the grass and swearing all the while, to disentangle it again.

That is my opinion of tow-lines in general. Of course, there may be honourable exceptions; I do not say that there are not. There may be tow-lines that are a credit to their profession - conscientious, respectable tow-lines - tow-lines that do not imagine they are crochet-work, and try to knit themselves up into antimacassars the instant they are left to themselves. I say there may be such tow-lines; I sincerely hope there are. But I have not met with them. ~ Jerome K. Jerome

Life is a harsh, twisted paradox.
On one hand, you wish for no pain or suffering or misery on anyone. Yet you hope to see your children grow into individuals of compassionate and kind character. And it seems that pain, suffering, and misery adequately humble an individual, cultivating empathy and understanding for others in similar plights. While a life of ease and comfort and pleasure often fosters extravagant and selfish habits, spurring pride and blinded vision. Still, you pray for no pain or suffering on your children.
Life is a harsh, twisted paradox. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Ravens and crows. Rats Mists and clouds. Insects and corruption. Strange events and odd occurrences. The ordinary twisted and strange. Wonders!

The dead are beginning to walk and some see them. Others do not, but more and more, we all fear the night.

These have been our days. They rain upon us beneath a dead sky, crushing us with their fury, until as one we beg: "Let it begin!"

-Journal of the Unknown Scholar, entry for The Feast of Freia, 1000 NE ~ Brandon Sanderson

Grace is the most perplexing, powerful force in the universe, and, I believe, the only hope for our twisted, violent planet. ~ Philip Yancey

When Dad pulled up in front of the house, the three of us sat still for a moment and stared at the gloomy pile of bricks my great-aunt called home. Up close, it looked even worse than it had from a distance. Ivy clung to the walls, spreading over windows and doors. A wisteria vine heavy with bunches of purple blossoms twisted around the porch columns. Paint peeled, loose shutters banged in the wind, slates from the roof littered the overgrown lawn.
Charles Addams would have loved it. So would Edgar Allan Poe. But not me. No, sir, definitely not me. Just looking at the place made my skin prickle.
Dad was the first to speak. "This is your ancestral home, Drew," he said, once more doing his best to sound excited. "It was built by your great-great-grandfather way back in 1865, right after the Civil War. Tylers have lived here ever since."
While Dad babbled about family history and finding your roots and things like that, I let my thoughts drift to Camp Tecumseh again. Maybe Martin wasn't so bad after all, maybe he and I could have come to terms this summer, maybe we--
My fantasies were interrupted by Great-aunt Blythe. Flinging the front door open, she came bounding down the steps. The wind ballooned her T-shirt and swirled her gray hair. If she spread her arms, she might fly up into the sky like Mary Poppins. ~ Mary Downing Hahn

He grabbed the nearest lizard, twisted it with a loud snap, and tossed it aside. "Hey, baby."
"Hi." I beheaded a lizard. "Where are the kids?"
"With the MSDU." He disemboweled a beast with a quick swipe of his claws. "You're having all this fun without me."
"I'm not doing much. Just having tea and cookies." I cut at another lizard. "Thinking deep thoughts." I love you.
"Then I'll join you."
He loved me, too. ~ Ilona Andrews

Sabrina fair
Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of Lillies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,
Listen for dear honour's sake,
Goddess of the silver lake,
Listen and save. ~ John Milton

We had something real," Nobley said, starting to sound a little desperate. "You must have felt it, seeping through the costumes and pretenses."
The brunette nodded.
"Seeping through the pretenses? Listen to him, he's still acting." Martin turned to the brunette in search of an ally.
"Do I detect any jealousy there, my flagpole-like friend?" Nobley said. "Still upset that you weren't cast as a gentleman? You do make a very good gardener."
Martin took a swing. Nobley ducked and rammed into his body, pushing them both to the ground. The brunette squealed and bounced on the balls of her feet.
"Stop it!" Jane pulled at Nobley, then slipped. He put out an arm and caught her midfall across her middle.
"Here, let me…" Nobley tried to give her a hand up and push Martin away at the same time.
"Get off me," Martin said. "I'll help her."
He kicked Nobley in the rear, followed by some swatting of hands. Jane planted her feet, grabbed Nobley's arm, and pulled him off. Martin was still swiping at Nobley from the ground. Nobley's cap fell off, then his trench coat twisted up around Martin, who batted at it crazily.
"Cut it out!" Jane said, pushing Nobley back and putting herself between them. She felt more like a teacher stopping a schoolboy scuffle than an ingénue with two brawling beaus.
"M-m-martin's gay!" Nobley said.
"I am not! You're thinking of Edgar."
"Who the hell is Edgar?"
"You know, that other gardener who always sm ~ Shannon Hale

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools ... ~ Rudyard Kipling

The best music for her was always the stuff you could relate to, the stuff that spoke directly to you and twisted and knotted itself so far into your life you couldn't tell where art ended and reality began. ~ Stephen Emond

In a rush, the world opened its mouth to her - and it was screaming.
Everywhere - the air around her, the ground beneath her, the stars above - rippled with the soul-wrenching cries of
hunger: the trees and bushes and plants all twisted and bent, their branches and stems clawing the sky in skeletal panic; the
animals and insects, flying and crawling and burrowing, each frantic in its own way, searching incessantly to end the gnawing
demand in its belly; the swarms of people, clotting the world, stuffing themselves only to beg for more, be it food or wealth or
attention - all of them, desperate, insatiable. So very hungry.
All of them, leeching on to her. Sucking her dry. ~ Jackie Morse Kessler