Very Wicked Beginnings Quotes

Being alone in a room full of people who never really looked at you didn't bother me. Or at least that's what I told myself. ~ Ilsa Madden-Mills

Though it is a great mistake to make friends of the wicked and foolish, it is unwise to make enemies of them, for they are very numerous. ~ John Lubbock

In the specially Christian case we have to react against the heavy bias of fatigue. It is almost impossible to make the facts vivid, because the facts are familiar; and for fallen men it is often true that familiarity is fatigue. I am convinced that if we could tell the supernatural story of Christ word for word as of a Chinese hero, call him the Son of Heaven instead of the Son of God, and trace his rayed nimbus in the gold thread of Chinese embroideries or the gold lacquer of Chinese pottery, instead of in the gold leaf of our own old Catholic paintings, there would be a unanimous testimony to the spiritual purity of the story. We should hear nothing then of the injustice of substitution or the illogicality of atonement, of the superstitious exaggeration of the burden of sin or the impossible insolence of an invasion of the laws of nature. We should admire the chivalry of the Chinese conception of a god who fell from the sky to fight the dragons and save the wicked from being devoured by their own fault and folly. We should admire the subtlety of the Chinese view of life, which perceives that all human imperfection is in very truth a crying imperfection. We should admire the Chinese esoteric and superior wisdom, which said there are higher cosmic laws than the laws we know. ~ G.K. Chesterton

I am a cutter, you see. Also a snipper, a slicer, a carver, a jabber. I am a very special case. I have a purpose. My skin, you see, screams. It's covered with words - cook, cupcake, kitty, curls - as if a knife-wielding first-grader learned to write on my flesh. I sometimes, but only sometimes, laugh. Getting out of the bath and seeing, out of the corner of my eye, down the side of a leg: babydoll. Pull on a sweater and, in a flash of my wrist: harmful. Why these words? Thousands of hours of therapy have yielded a few ideas from the good doctors. They are often feminine, in a Dick and Jane, pink vs. puppy dog tails sort of way. Or they're flat-out negative. Number of synonyms for anxious carved in my skin: eleven. The one thing I know for sure is that at the time, it was crucial to see these letters on me, and not just see them, but feel them. Burning on my left hip: petticoat.

And near it, my first word, slashed on an anxious summer day at age thirteen: wicked. I woke up that morning, hot and bored, worried about the hours ahead. How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky? Anything could happen. I remember feeling that word, heavy and slightly sticky across my pubic bone. My mother's steak knife. Cutting like a child along red imaginary lines. Cleaning myself. Digging in deeper. Cleaning myself. Pouring bleach over the knife and sneaking through the kitchen to return it. Wicked. Relief. The rest of the day, I spent ministering to my ~ Gillian Flynn

I'm in love with you - ridiculous, isn't it?"
It's impossible. Why had she played with fire? Ridiculous, isn't it? If he knew how she felt, how much more impossible for him!
"You'll get over it," she said at last.
The smile widened, as if a deep appreciation for his own frailty spread only the most wicked amusement. "Is that all you have to say when a man bares his bloody soul and admits his absurdity?"
"I think you're in pain," she said, fighting the odd strangling panic. "I don't believe love is meant to be painful."
"No, of course not. Love is meant to be comfortable and safe, like Jeb Hardacre and his wife snoring before the kitchen fire. That is not what I feel about you." He laughed with obvious bravado. "This is a madness. I want to enter your skin. I want to discover your very essence - why you're so enthralling and mysterious to me. I cannot allow any of it. ~ Julia Ross

Children can be wicked, insane, insufferable little shits. And yet I love them. I love them - especially the small ones - because of the way their emotions dance and glow on the surface for all to see. They have neither the guile nor the wile to hide how they feel. Very quickly, you know who they really are. (Rosemary Mahoney) ~ Meghan Daum

Fear in its most wicked, powerful form cripples our souls and warps the very fabric of our true hearts. ~ Stasi Eldredge

(...)because Miss Temple has generally something to say which is newer than my own reflections; her language is singularly agreeable to me, and the information she communicates is often just what I wished to gain."
"Well, then, with Miss Temple you are good?"
"Yes, in a passive way: I make no effort; I follow as inclination guides me. There is no merit in such goodness."
"A great deal: you are good to those who are good to you. It is all I ever desire to be. If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way: they would never feel afraid, and so
they would never alter, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should - so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again."
"You will change your mind, I hope, when you grow older: as yet you are but a little untaught girl."
"But I feel this, Helen; I must dislike those who, whatever I do to please them, persist in disliking me; I must resist those who punish me unjustly. It is as natural as that I should love those who show me affection, or submit to punishment when I feel it is deserved."
"Heathens and savage tribes hold that doctrine, but Christians and civilised nations disown it." "How? I don't understand."
"It is not violence that best overcomes hate - nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury."
"What then?" ~ Charlotte Bronte

He was, and she had to swallow very hard to keep from choking, the most terribly beautiful man she had ever seen. He had a long, wicked scar that traveled from his temple down his cheek to the side of his chin and below his jaw. Somehow, though, it just didn't detract from his handsomeness, dark though that was. His face was all planes and angles, harsh even in the deepening gloom. His hair was dark and his eyes were full of cynicism. ~ Lynn Kurland

You should have woken me. I would have taken a shift at the tiller."

"We actually considered it when you started to snore."

"I don't snore!"

"I beg to differ," Hadrian chided while chewing.

She looked around the skiff as each of them, even Etcher, nodded. Her face flushed.

Hadrian chuckled. "Don't worry about it. You can't be held accountable for what you do in your sleep."

"Still," she said, "it's not very ladylike."

"Well, if that's all you're worried about, you can forget it," Hadrian informed her with a wicked smirk. "We lost all illusions of you being prissy back in Sheridan."

How much better it was when they were silent.

"That's a compliment," he added hastily.

"You don't have much luck with the ladies, do you, sir?" Wally asked, pausing briefly and letting the paddles hang out like wings, leaving a tiny trail of droplets on the smooth surface of the river. "I mean, with compliments like that, and all."

Hadrian frowned at him, then turned back to her with a concerned expression. "I really did mean it as a compliment. I've never met a lady who would - well, without complaining you've been - " He paused in frustration, then added, "That little trick you managed back there was really great. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

Trembling, Phoebe turned her mouth from his. Her body didn't seem to belong to her. She could hardly stand on her own. She couldn't think. Her forehead leaned on his shoulder as she waited for the wild pumping of her heart to subside.
West buried a quiet curse into the mass of her pinned-up hair. His arms relaxed gradually, one of his hands wandering over her slender back in an aimless, soothing pattern. When he'd managed to moderate his breathing, he said gruffly, "Don't say that was nice."
Phoebe pressed a crooked smile against his shoulder before she replied, "It wasn't." It had been extraordinary. A revelation. One of her hands crept up to his lean cheek and shaped to it gently. "And it must never happen again."
West was very still, considering that. He responded with a single nod of agreement and turned his lips to the center of her palm with urgent pressure.
Impulsively she stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, "There's nothing wicked about you, except your kisses." And she fled the room while she was still able. ~ Lisa Kleypas

After he was sensibly convicted of the wicked state of his life, and converted, he was baptized into the congregation, and admitted a member thereof, viz., in the year 1655, and became speedily a very zealous professor; but upon the return of King Charles to the crown in 1660, he was the 12th of November taken, as he was edifying some good people that were got together to hear the word, and confined in Bedford jail for the space of six years, till the act of Indulgence to dissenters being allowed, he obtained his freedom, by the intercession of some in trust and power, that took pity on his sufferings; but within six years afterwards he was again taken up, viz., in the year 1666, and was then confined for six years more, when even the jailor took such pity of his rigorous sufferings, that he did as the Egyptian jailor did to Joseph, put all the care and trust in his hand: ~ John Bunyan

Your statement ... tells a very fine story; but pray, was not your stock a little heavy a while ago? downward tendency? Sort of low spirits among holders on the subject of that stock?"
"Yes, there was a depression. But how came it? who devised it? The 'bears,' sir. The depression of our stock was solely owing to the growling, the hypocritical growling, of the bears."
"How hypocritical?"
""Why, the most montrous of all hypocrites are these bears: hypocrites by inversion; hypocrites in the simulation of things dark instead of bright; souls that thrive, less upon depression, than the fiction of depression; professors of the wicked art of manufacturing depressions; spurious Jeremiahs; sham Heraclituses, who, the lugubrious day done, return, like sham Lazaruses among the beggars, to make merry over the gains got by their pretended sore heads--scoundrelly bears!"
"You are warm against these bears?"
"If I am, it is less from the remembrance of their stratagems as to our stock, than from the persuasion that these same destroyers of confidence, and gloomy philosophers of the stock-market, though false in themselves, are yet true types of most destroyer of confidence and gloomy philosophers, the world over. Fellows who, whether in stocks, politics, bread-stuffs, morals, metaphysics, religion--be it what it may--trump up their black panics in the naturally-quiet brightness, solely with a view to some sort of covert advantage. That corpse of calamity which t ~ Herman Melville

So when modern-day religious conservatives wax nostalgic about how marriage is a sacred tradition that reaches back into history for thousands of uninterrupted years, they are correct, but in only one respect - only if they happen to be talking about Judaism. Christianity simply does not share that deep and consistent historical reverence toward matrimony. Lately it has, yes- but not originally. For the first thousand or so years of Christian history, the church regarded monogamous marriage as marginally less wicked that flat-out whoring but only very marginally. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

It is very wicked for you not to take care of your masters goods, but how much worse is it to pilfer and steal from them, whenever you think you shall not be found out. ~ Jupiter Hammon

When I was done raking and bagging, I banged on the door and demanded entry /...let me in by the hair on your chinny, chin-chin/ (a fairytale moment there) Dick opened it and in his posthest voice, said that before he could possibly consider letting me re-cross the threshold he needed to ask me whether I was a good f*cking fairy or a bad f*cking fairy? Grinning, I told him that I was very wicked fairy and if he had a wand about his person that I could have lend of, I would prove it. He said that was the right answer and promptly yanked me inside where he located and presented me with his wand, breathily ordering the sorcerer's apprentice to perform magic with it. Judging by the look on his face afterwards, I knew I'd impressed him with my oral sorcery and I was more than happy with the short-lifting sorcery Shane performed on me as the same time. ~ Gillibran Brown

Sorry for being stuck in the traffic
of my mind's stressful road
The world seems very pornographic
I can't carry the load ~ Munia Khan

As I said, it comes with a price." His grin was wicked and I suddenly felt a little breathless. "I'm a hard man to please. And I'm also a very busy man. You'll do what I want when I want and I won't always be nice about it. In fact, considering what your surname is, you can pretty much guarantee I won't be nice about it. ~ Samantha Young

We have fallen upon evil times and the world has waxed very old and wicked. Politics are very corrupt. Children are no longer respectful to their parents. ~ King Naram-Sin Of Chaldea 3800 B.C. Inscription Found On An Ancient Tablet In A Constantinople Meseu

It was now that I began sensibly to feel how much more happy this life I now led was, with all its miserable circumstances, than the wicked, cursed, abominable life I led all the past part of my days; and now I changed both my sorrows and my joys; my very desires altered, my affections changed their gusts, and my delights were perfectly new from what they were at my first coming, or, indeed, for the two years past. ~ Daniel Defoe

I do not think men are good at all. I have seen enough to know that humans are a wicked race from their very birth. Selfishness defines us. Greed and lust motivate us. And even the best man who ever lived would lie to preserve his own life or beliefs. No, mankind is far from being essentially good. It takes exceptional individuals to change the world, to make a difference. Give the average person a choice, and he will make life miserable for others if only it will make his own life easier. ~ Brondt Kamffer

One never knows how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her - is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is the very least question of definitions. ~ Gregory Maguire

Surely there is the handful of nursery marchen that start, 'Once in the middle of a forest lived an old witch' or 'The devil was out walking one day and met a child,' " Said Oatsie, who was showing that she had some education as well as grit. "To the grim poor there need be no pour quoi tale about where evil arises; it always is. One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her - is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not the devil? It is at the very least a question of definitions. ~ Gregory Maguire

Aunt Lavinia always had a near-religious belief that it was wicked to inflict one's personal despair on others. Any display of self-pity or self-dissatisfaction she saw as a social cruelty that was very nearly criminal. ~ Caroline Blackwood

Thus we do disagreeable things, but we are defensive. That, I think, is still fair. We do disagreeable things so that ordinary people here and elsewhere can sleep safely in their beds at night. Is that too romantic? Of course, we occasionally do very wicked things"; he grinned like a schoolboy. "And in weighing up the moralities, we rather go in for dishonest comparisons; after all, you can't compare the ideals of one side with the methods of the other, can you, now? ~ John Le Carre

We're not attacking Islam but Islam has attacked us. The God of Islam is not the same God. He's not the son of God of the Christian or Judeo-Christian faith. It's a different God, and I believe it [Islam] is a very evil and wicked religion ... When you read the Koran and you read the verses from the Koran, it instructs the killing of the infidel, for those that are non-Muslim. ~ Franklin Graham

I think it's great to see how they've grown up, not just as actors but as people. They're still very much the same kids that I met many years ago. They've grown up and they are funny and wicked and naughty and bright, and I think as actors their work is just getting better and better. They've blossomed. ~ David Heyman

The witch mania is shameful. How could we do it? How could we be so ignorant about ourselves and our weaknesses? How could it have happened in the most "advanced," the most "civilized" nations then on Earth? Why was it resolutely supported by conservatives, monarchists, and religious fundamentalists? Why opposed by liberals, Quakers and followers of the Enlightenment? If we're absolutely sure that our beliefs are right, and those of others wrong; that we are motivated by good, and others by evil; that the King of the Universe speaks to us, and not to adherents of very different faiths; that it is wicked to challenge conventional doctrines or to ask searching questions; that our main job is to believe and obey - then the witch mania will recur in its infinite variations down to the time of the last man. Note Friedrich von Spee's very first point, and the implication that improved public understanding of superstition and skepticism might have helped to short-circuit the whole train of causality. If we fail to understand how it worked in the last round, we will not recognize it as it emerges in the next. ~ Carl Sagan

I think I might be ready to go upstairs," she said. Suddenly it was too hard to be in his presence, too painful to know that he would belong to someone else.
His lips quirked into a boyish smile. "Are you saying I might finally crawl out from under this table?"
"Oh, goodness!" She clapped one of her hands to her cheek in a sheepish expression. "I'm so sorry. I stopped noticing where we were sitting ages ago, I'm afraid. What a ninny you must think me."
He shook his head, still smiling. "Never a ninny, Kate. Even when I thought you the most insufferable female creature on the planet, I had no doubts about your intelligence."
Kate, who had been in the process of scooting out from under the table, paused. "I just don't know if I should feel complimented or insulted by that statement."
"Probably both," he admitted, "but for friendship's sake, let's decide upon complimented."
She turned to look at him, aware that she presented an awkward picture on her hands and knees, but the moment seemed too important to delay. "Then we are friends?" she whispered.
He nodded as he stood. "Hard to believe, but I think we are."
Kate smiled as she took his helping hand and rose to her feet. "I'm glad. You're - you're really not the devil I'd originally thought you."
One of his brows lifted, and his face suddenly took on a very wicked expression.
"Well, maybe you are," she amended, thinking he probably was every bit the rake and rogue tha ~ Julia Quinn

I see you go bare-shod. This is most likely extremely sensible. Shoes are no end of trouble for girls ... How many have danced to death in slippers of silk and glass and fur and wood? Too many to count - the graveyards, they are so full these days. You are very wise to let your soles become grubby with mud, to let them grow their own slippers of moss and clay and calluses. This is far preferable to shoes which may become wicked at any moment. ~ Catherynne M Valente

Lily jumped a little at the sight of him. He'd never been this vivid before, this detailed. She could see him as clearly as if he were really standing right before her. But
this was a dream, even though her senses told her otherwise.
"It's bolder because we're so close," he explained, obviously able to follow her train of thought. "Now that you're back in the world you belong, our connection has strengthened."
"We have no connection." Trying to gather her courage, Lily straightened her spine, standing tall. He shook his head at her. "You'll soon be finding you're wrong about that one, my love. Very wrong." Ronan turned his head as if looking at something in the distance,
though all she could see was the black.
With a heavy sigh, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and lanced
back up with a wicked smirk. "It seems that time's already run out. I only came to get a look at you, anyway. You should really run along now, Dreamer, I can't wait to see you in the waking world. ~ Chani Lynn Feener

What I need is a woman who is something, anything: either very beautiful or very kind or in the last resort very wicked; very witty or very stupid, but something. ~ Alfred De Musset

I hate to burst your bubble, but you're really not as scary as you think you are. I don't find you scary at all, actually," I lied casually.
He stopped, raising his eyebrows in blatant disbelief. Then he flashed a wide, wicked smile.
"You really shouldn't have said that," he chuckled.
He growled, a low sound in the back of his throat; his lips curled back over his perfect teeth. His body shifted suddenly, half-crouched, tensed lika a lion about to pounce.
I backed away from him, glaring.
"You wouldn't."
I didn't see him leap me - it was much too fast. I only found myself suddenly airborne, and then we crashed onto the sofa, knocking it into the wall. All the while, his arms formed an iron cage of protection around me - I was barely jostled. But I still was gasping as I tried to right myself.
He wasn't having that. He curled me into a ball against his chest, holding me more securely than iron chains. I glared at him in alarm, but he seemed well in control, his jaw relaxed as he grinned, his eyes bright only with humor.
"You were saying?" he growled playfully.
"That you are a very, very terrifying monster," I said, my sarcasm marred a bit my breathless voice.
"Much better," he approved. ~ Stephenie Meyer

The Marquis de V... - whose falsetto voice and little watery eyes I have always detested - was saying to me with a wicked smile: 'Then again, the master gymnast might break his neck at any moment. What he is doing now is very dangerous, my dear, and the pleasure you take in his performance is the little frisson that danger affords you. Wouldn't it be thrilling, if his sweaty hand failed to grip the bar? The velocity acquired by his rotation about the bar would break his spine quite cleanly, and perhaps a little of the cervical matter might spurt out as far as this! It would be most sensational, and you would have a rare emotion to add to the field of your experience - for you collect emotions, don't you? What a pretty stew of terrors that man in tights stirs up in us!

'Admit that you almost wish that he will fall! Me too. Many others in the auditorium are in the same state of attention and anguish. That is the horrible instinct of a crowd confronted with a spectacle which awakens in it the ideas of lust and death. Those two agreeable companions always travel together! Take it from me that at the very same moment - see, the man is now holding on to the bar by his fingertips alone - at the very same moment, a good number of the women in these boxes are ardently lusting after that man, not so much for his beauty as for the danger he courts.'

The voice subtly changed its tone, suddenly becoming more interested. 'You have singularly pale eyes this evening, my ~ Jean Lorrain

The connection between radical attentiveness, prayer, and joy pervades Jewish mystical thinking in its diverse phases but never so brightly, so every-day-related, and so clearly as in Hasidism. Melancholy is the dust in the soul that Satan spreads out. Worry and dejection are seen to be the roots of every evil force. Melancholy is a wicked quality and displeasing to God, says Martin Buber.

Rabbi Bunam said: "Once when I was on the road near Warsaw, I felt that I had to tell a certain story. But this story was of a worldly nature and I knew that it would only rouse laughter among the many people who had gathered about me. The Evil Urge tried very hard to dissuade me, saying that I would lose all those people because once they heard this story they would no longer consider me a rabbi. But I said to my heart: `Why should you he concerned about the secret ways of God?' And I remembered the words of Rabbi Pinhas of Koretz: 'All joys hail from paradise, and jests too, provided they are uttered in true joy' And so in my heart of hearts I renounced my rabbi's office and told the story. The gathering burst out laughing. And those who up to this point had been distant from me attached themselves to me." (a quote from Tales of the Hasidim by Martin Buber).

Joy, laughter, and delight are so powerful because, like all mysticism, they abolish conventional divisions, in this case the division between secular and sacred. The often boisterous laughter, especially of wome ~ Dorothee Solle

The more I read, the more I was led to abhor and detest my enslavers. I could regard them in no other light than a band of successful robbers, who had left their homes, and gone to Africa, and stolen us from our homes, and in a strange land reduced us to slavery. I loathed them as being the meanest as well as the most wicked of men. As I read and contemplated the subject, behold! that very discontentment which Master Hugh had predicted would follow my learning to read had already come, to torment and sting my soul to unutterable anguish. As I writhed under it, I would at times feel that learning to read had been a curse rather than a blessing. It had given me a view of my wretched condition, without the remedy. it opened my eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder upon which to get out. in moments of agony, I envied my fellow-slaves for their stupidity. I have often wished myself a beast. I preferred the condition of the meanest reptile to my own. Any thing, no matter what, to get rid of thinking! It was this everlasting thinking of my condition that tormented me. There was no getting rid of it. It was pressed upon me by every object within sight or hearing, animate or inanimate. The silver trump of freedom had roused my soul to eternal wakefulness. Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more forever. It was heard in every sound and seen in every thing. It was ever present to torment me with a sense of my wretched condition. I saw nothing without seeing it, I heard nothing w ~ Frederick Douglass

Plato utterly condemns the poets for publishing trivial, false and indeed wicked stories about the gods, such as that they fight with each other, or are overcome by emotions like grief, anger, mirth. Reluctantly, he will not allow Homer in his Republic, and he is very angry with the tragic poets for spreading unworthy ideas of the Deity.

It may well be that there were inferior tragic poets who deserved Plato's strictures, but so far as concerns the tragic poets whom we know, Plato's attack is absurd. It is the attack of a severely intellectual philosopher who was also more of a poet than most poets have contrived to be; one who invented some of the profoundest and most beautiful of Greek myths. 'There is a long-standing quarrel', says Plato, 'between philosophy and poetry.' So there was, on the part of the philosophers, and most of all in Plato's own soul. ~ H.D.F. Kitto

Dr. Laas made a modest shrug. "I and a few fellow scientists came up with the design for Shareem. Rio and Rees were some of our very best."
The woman's startled gaze flicked back to Rio. "Are they androids? Not real?"
"Oh, I'm real, darlin'," Rio said softly. "Very, very real. I think you saw how real."
She drew a breath. "I think I don't understand."
Dr. Laas opened her hands. "The Shareem might have been a mistake. Maybe we got carried away playing gods." Her smile turned wicked. "But oh, what workmanship."
"Thank you," Rio said dryly. ~ Allyson James

She lit the candelabras which stood on the mantelpiece. Placed at the head of the bead, on a side-table, they looked like two burning bushes, their flames solemn and inextinguishable. But beneath that avalanche of light the dead man became hideous: the pale head displayed a whiteness more livid than the bedsheet, ghastly against the cambric of the pillow; pits of shadow were hollowed out under the eyes and his nose was villainously elongated, and even the mouth seemed wicked – his mouth, which was so very gentle!
~ Remy De Gourmont

[I]t's necessary to exert very great foresight every time you go to blame or praise a man, so that you won't speak incorrectly ... For you shouldn't suppose that, while stones are sacred and pieces of wood, and birds, and snakes, human beings are not. Rather of all these things, the most sacred is the good human being, while the most polluted is the wicked.
Speech attributed to Socrates in Plato, Minos 319a, trans. Thomas L. Pangle, in The Roots of Political Philosophy: Ten Forgotten Socratic Dialogues, ed. Thomas L. Pangle (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1987), 63. ~ Plato

Whoever started the rumor that life has to be perfect is a very wicked person, if you ask me. ~ Sophie Kinsella

My daughter is going to work for Jaime Dalton," her mother shouted to Mrs. Perkins next door; there was pride in her voice. "She's going to Miami."

"Have fun, Cass. That Jaime Dalton has a cute ass. Tell him I said that, okay?" Mrs. Perkins was somewhere in her seventies, still very active, with a wicked sense of humor and was man crazy.

"I'll do that, Mrs. P."

"Have a good time, dear, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Thelma, don't scare the girl, you know there isn't much out there you wouldn't do. ~ Mercy Celeste

One ravishing dark-haired beauty wearing leather pants and strategically applied electrical tape, stared hard at me and, when she saw me looking, licked her lips very, very slowly. She trailed a fingertip over her chin, down across her throat, and down over her sternum and gave me a smile so wicked that it's parents should have sent it to military school. ~ Jim Butcher

You do understand, Sara. More than you know. More than I wish you did." His mouth closes down over mine, hot with demand, and I know he believes this conversation is over, that he means to end it with the wicked caress of his tongue against mine, the possessive splay of his hands on my body. But I refuse to be this powerless, to be silenced with the very passion that drives me to need to understand this man. "No," I gasp, and shove against him, breathless as I meet his gaze and demand, "Make me understand, Chris." And on some level I know this is that unknown place I've craved to go with him, that place he hides from me, that place he wants to take me. This is where we have to go, where we've always been headed. ~ Lisa Renee Jones

I've been living like this for a long time - about twenty years. I'm forty now. I used to be in the civil service; I no longer am. I was a wicked official. I was rude, and took pleasure in it. After all, I didn't accept bribes, so I had to reward myself at least with that. (A bad witticism, but I won't cross it out. I wrote it thinking it would come out very witty; but now, seeing for myself that I simply had a vile wish to swagger - I purposely won't cross it out!) When petitioners would come for information to the desk where I sat - I'd gnash my teeth at them, and felt an inexhaustible delight when I managed to upset someone. I almost always managed. They were timid people for the most part: petitioners, you know. But among the fops there was one officer I especially could not stand. He simply refused to submit and kept rattling his sabre disgustingly. I was at war with him over that sabre for a year and a half. In the end, I prevailed. He stopped rattling. However, that was still in my youth. But do you know, gentlemen, what was the main point about my wickedness? The whole thing precisely was, the greatest nastiness precisely lay in my being shamefully conscious every moment, even in moments of the greatest bile, that I was not only not a wicked but was not even an embittered man, that I was simply frightening sparrows in vain, and pleasing myself with it. I'm foaming at the mouth, but bring me some little doll, give me some tea with a bit of suger, and maybe I'll calm do ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

When a man has calamity upon calamity the world generally concludes that he must be a very wicked man to deserve them. Perhaps the world is right; but it is also just possible that the world ... may be wrong. ~ Amelia Barr

I wanted to play a mother again. I thought it would be interesting to play the mother of an older child. And it was also the kind of part I've been looking for my whole career, actually, in film. You know, just to play a femme fatale who's very smart, and wicked. ~ Sigourney Weaver