Witch S Fingers Quotes

Vasco bought a bottle of vodka to celebrate and they drank it in the old sailors' graveyard in Mangrove South. This was where the funeral business had first put down its roots. Over the wall, between two warehouses, Jed could just make out the Witch's Fingers, four long talons of sand that lay in the mouth of the river. Rumour had it that, on stormy nights a century ago, they used to reach out, gouge holes in passing ships, and drag them down. Hundreds of wrecks lay buried in that glistening silt. The city's black heart had beaten strongly even then. There was one funeral director, supposedly, who used to put lamps out on the Fingers and lure ships to their doom. ~ Rupert Thomson

If you loved someone, what wouldn't you do for them? If your house caught fire, would you sit on the sidewalk and wait for the firemen to arrive, knowing your other half was still trapped inside? Or would you go back in and die with them, die trying to save them?"
His answer is automatic, a reverent promise said while his gaze locked with mine stays steady. "If I loved someone you'd find us with out fingers melted together, because I'd be right beside her, holding her hand, to the very end. ~ S.E. Hall

My fingers darted, then danced, then flew. I played hard as a hailstorm, like a hammer beating brass. I played soft as sun on autumn wheat, gentle as a single stirring leaf. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

Don't think, he'd said, because it was easier than saying, Take me for who I am.
He couldn't bear that suddenly. He wanted it without pretences, without excuses, his fingers curling hard into Laurent's hair.
'It's me,' said Damen. 'It's me, here with you. Say my name.'
'Damianos. ~ C.S. Pacat

Speaking of… I gotta go. I need to be at the field." His voice rumbled through his chest and against my ear as he spoke.
I sighed and stepped out of his arms. I was sad that our couple days together were over and I would be here tonight without him. Classes started tomorrow, and I knew we were going to see a lot less of each other now that the semester was starting.
"I'll walk you out," I said and followed him to the door.
Ivy was still digging through my clothes and called out a good-bye.
"Just stay inside," he said, palming the handle. "It's cold and slippery out there. You'll be safer in here."
I grimaced. "You're probably right."
He grinned. "I'll call you later, 'kay?"
I nodded.
He released the door handle and closed the distance between us with one step. The toes of his shoes bumped against my boots and the front of his jacket brushed against me.
My stomach fluttered and my heart rate doubled. The effect he had on me was nothing short of amazing. I tipped my head back so I could look up into his eyes, and the corner of his mouth lifted. He looked at me with so much affection in his gaze that emotion caught in my throat. He didn't have to say anything because I heard everything just by looking in his eyes.
My fingers curled around the hem of his shirt and tangled in the cotton fabric, and at the same time I stretched up, he bent down.
The feel of his lips against me was my favorite sensation. Nothing compa ~ Cambria Hebert

Though it was bright sunshine everyone felt suddenly cold. The only two people present who seemed to be quite at their ease were Aslan and the Witch herself. It was the oddest thing to see those two faces - the golden face and the dead-white face so close together. Not that the Witch looked Aslan exactly in his eyes; Mrs Beaver particularly noticed this. ~ C.S. Lewis

Time and the bell have buried the day,
The black cloud carries the sun away.
Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis
Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray
Clutch and cling?
Chill
Fingers of yew be curled
Down on us? After the kingfisher's wing
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still
At the still point of the turning world. ~ T. S. Eliot

I looked up its history, and, surprisingly, it has quite a history. You know how in Europe they make you study a lot of stuff about the old alchemists and all that kind of stuff, to give you an historical grounding.'

'Yes?'

Kemp laughed. 'You haven't got a witch around your place by any chance?'

'Eh!' The exclamation almost burned Marson's lips. He fought hard to hide the tremendousness of that shock.

Kemp laughed again. 'According to 'Die Geschichte der Zauberinnen' by the Austrian, Karl Gloeck, Hydrodendon Barelia is the modem name for the sinister witch's weed of antiquity. I'm not talking about the special witches of our Christian lore, with their childish attributes, but the old tribe of devil's creatures that came out of prehistory, regular full-blooded sea witches. It seems when each successive body gets old, they choose a young woman's body, attune themselves to it by living with the victim, and take possession any time after midnight of the first full moon period following the 21st of June. Witch's weed is supposed to make the entry easier. Gloeck says... why, what's the matter, sir?'

His impulse, his wild and terrible impulse, was to babble the whole story to Kemp. With a gigantic effort, he stopped himself; for Kemp, though he might talk easily of witches, was a scientist to the depths of his soul.

("The Witch") ~ A.E. Van Vogt

I see you are an idiot, whatever else you may be... ~ C.S. Lewis

I think my characters with my fingers, I think my characters with my guts. But when I say I think them, that is what I do, I feel them with the sympathetic neurons and I work out with my brain what it is that I am trying to write about, or I can't do it. ~ A.S. Byatt

He laces our fingers and shrugs. And I'm dead. I am actually dead. There's no other way to explain it. I'm sitting in fucking Herald Square, holding hands with the cutest boy I've ever met, and I'm dead. I'm the deadest zombie ghost vampire who ever died. And now my mouth isn't working. It's like I'm stunned into silence. That never happens. ~ Becky Albertalli

She did not shut it properly because she knew that it is very silly to shut oneself into a wardrobe, even if it is not a magic one. ~ C.S. Lewis

And so," continued the Witch, "that Human creature is mine. His life is forfeit to me. His blood is my property."
"Come and take it then," said the Bull-with-the-man's-head in a great bellowing voice.
"Fool," said the Witch with a savage smile that was almost a snarl, "do you really think your master can rob me of my rights by mere force? He knows the Deep Magic better than that. He knows that unless I have blood as the Law says, all Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water."
"It is very true," said Aslan; "I do not deny it."
"Oh, Aslan!" whispered Susan in the Lion's ear. "Can't we--I mean, you won't, will you? Can't we do something about the Deep Magic? Isn't there something you can work against it?"
"Work against the Emperor's magic?" said Aslan, turning to her with something like a frown on his face. And nobody ever made that suggestion to him again. ~ C.S. Lewis

Who am I?" she snaps. "I am America, Israel, England! What am I doing?" She waits another long moment, her eyes shining. "I'm shutting up and listening." She draws the last word out so it hisses through the air. "I am the presidents, the kings, the prime ministers, the highs and the mighties - L-I-S-T-E-N!" She spells the word in the air. "The woman who made the baklava has something to say to you! Voilà! You see? Now what am I doing?" She picks up an imaginary plate, lifts something from it, and takes an invisible bite. Then she closes her eyes and says, "Mmm... That is such delicious Arabic-Jordanian-Lebanese-Palestinian baklawa. Thank you so much for sharing it with us! Please will you come to our home now and have some of our food?" She puts down the plate and brushes imaginary crumbs from her fingers. "So now what did I just do?
"You ate some baklawa?"
She curls her hand as if making a point so essential, it can be held only in the tips of the fingers. "I looked, I tasted, I spoke kindly and truthfully. I invited. You know what else? I keep doing it. I don't stop if it doesn't work on the first or the second or the third try. And like that!" She snaps the apron from the chair into the air, leaving a poof of flour like a wish. "There is your peace. ~ Diana Abu-Jaber

Jess pushed herself up to sit next to him. "In case you didn't get the memo, it' s my turn to take care of you right now." Ike dropped his face into his hands on a groan, and Jess's cool hand massages his neck. "Oh, my God. You're so hot."
He chuffed out a small laugh. "Why, thank you."
Jess Chuckled. "You realize you don't have to fish for compliments, right? Not from me. Because I will straight-up tell you that the sight of your Ravens tat stretched over all these muscles gives me a lady boner." Her fingers traced the design across his shoulder blades - a spread-winged raven perches on the hilt of a dagger sunk into the eye socket of a skull. The block letters of the club's name arched over the menacing black bird.
He threw her some major side-eye. "I know I'm sick because the perverted part of my brain just heard you say my ink gives you a lady boner. ~ Laura Kaye

Hey, maybe you could invite the new guy to your party." Sarah suggested.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Sure, I'll just ask the good-looking stranger if he wants to come round to my Nanna'a and dance naked around a fire." Mark was suddenly aware of the engulfing silence.

"Who'll be naked doing what now? ~ K.S. Marsden

Makedon was explaining the virtues of iron tea to Laurent, and when Laurent massaged his own temple with finely bred fingers, Makedon remarked, rising, 'You should have your slave fetch you some.'

'Fetch me some,' Laurent said.
Damen rose. And stopped.

Laurent had gone very still. Damen stood there, awkwardly. He could think of no other reason why he had stood up.

He looked up and his eyes met those of Nikandros, who was staring at him. Nikandros was with a small group to one side of the table, the last of the men in the hall. He was the only one to have seen and heard. Damen just stood there.

'This meeting is over,' Nikandros announced to the men around him, too loudly. 'The King is ready to ride. ~ C.S. Pacat

Perhaps I am the only person who, asked whether she were a witch or not, could truthfully say, "I do not know. I do know some very strange things have happened to me, or through me."
Lady Alice Rowhedge ~ Norah Lofts

Horeb bent over me and ran his hand down my neck, not stopping when his fingers reached my chest.
I jerked backward. "What are you doing?"
His eyes were black and intense. "A little taste before the wedding, Jayden? ~ Kimberley Griffiths Little

The Little Mute Boy The little boy was looking for his voice. (The king of the crickets had it.) In a drop of water the little boy was looking for his voice. I do not want it for speaking with; I will make a ring of it so that he may wear my silence on his little finger In a drop of water the little boy was looking for his voice. (The captive voice, far away, put on a cricket's clothes.) Translated by William S. Merwin ~ Federico Garcia Lorca

Vivian, if I had a dollar for every time you confused the hell out of me today, I would be a rich man," he says, interlocking his fingers behind his head. "Now, can we please get in the hotel so we can shower and get some sleep? Or are we just going to stand here and talk about neck biting cocks all night." ~Jax ~ S.L. Romines

She hesitated for a moment longer, then tentatively placed her fingers in his. Her hand was hot and dry and so fragile-seeming that James cradled it gingerly. The next moment, she squeezed so hard his eyes widened.
Fragile lady be damned. He squeezed back spitefully. Vicious minx. ~ Y.S. Lee

This was bad grammar of course, but that is how beavers talk when they are excited; I mean, in Narnia
in our world they usually don't talk at all.
- The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe ~ C.S. Lewis

He's not safe, but he's good (referring to Aslan, the Lion, in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) ~ C.S. Lewis

She hated him, this man, and these men: the ones who picked her up without expression and used her without emotion. The ones who picked her up with no more regard than they had for picking lint off the collars of their well-pressed suits. She preferred the sweaty nervousness of young virgins or the eager speediness of excited old vets with their knobby fingers and waxy breath to these cold, hard men. These were the ones who called her squaw. Who called her half-breed, the ones who would just as soon slap her than bother to put on the condom she always handed them. She often wondered why they didn't just keep the $80 it cost to be with her and drive their comfortable, bucket-seated SUVs home to the suburbs. They could kiss their wives hello and then slip into very hot showers to jerk off for free. Their peckish wives could spend the money they saved spending an afternoon getting the silk wraps and pedicures that would goad them into putting out anyways. To these men she had no name and no face. She was a hole. Consequently, she held no regard for these bastards. She gave them the calculated respect accorded to dangerous dogs. ~ Cherie Dimaline

And then she caught the song. She fell upon it and music poured from the fiddle's hollow, bright and liquid like fire out of the heart of the earth. Pierre-Jean drew back and stood mesmerized. The room around Fin stirred as every ear bent to the ring of heartsong. It rushed through Fin and spread to the outermost and tiniest capillary reaches of her body. Her flesh sang. The hairs of her arms and neck roused and stood. She sped the bow across the strings. Her fingers danced on the fingerboard quick as fat raindrops. Every man in the room that night would later swear that there was a wind within it. They would tell their children and lovers that a hurricane had filled the room, toppled chairs, driven papers and sheets before it and blew not merely around them but through them, taking fears, grudges, malice, and contempt with it, sending them spiraling out into the night where they vanished among the stars like embers rising from a bonfire.

And though the spirited cry of the fiddle's song blew through others and around the room and everything in it, Fin sat at the heart of it. It poured into her. It found room in the closets and hollow places of her soul to settle and root. It planted seeds: courage, resolve, steadfastness. Fin gulped it in, seized it, held it fast. She needed it, had thirsted for it all her days. She saw the road ahead of her, and though she didn't understand it or comprehend her part in it, she knew that she needed the ancient and reckless power o ~ A.S. Peterson

He is, however," Amos continued, "keeping a constant rail gun lock on the Israel's reactor."
Holden ran his fingers through his hair. "So not too generous, then."
"Say pretty please, but carry a one-kilo slug of tungsten accelerated to a detectable percentage of c. ~ James S.A. Corey

There was a strange doubling, brother for brother, Laurent close as Auguste has been, and Damen even less defended, Laurent's fingers on te place where he had been run through. ~ C.S. Pacat

Human, witch, goblin, or whatever, a kiss is what is it is created from. Every moment, every heartache, every breath of fear and passion and longing was all wound up in this one kiss. It was more feeling than any word could express. ~ Cyndi Goodgame

Do you think I don't worry about you?"
"That's not - "
"Not the same? Because you are a man and I am a woman?"
"No. Because it's one thing for me to make the choice to put my own life in danger and something else entirely when my actions endanger someone else."
She touched her fingers to his lips. "I knew what I was letting myself in for when I married you, Devlin."
He smiled against her hand. "I'm not sure I did. ~ C.S. Harris

We may owe more than we are aware of to the witch. ~ D.J. Jacobs

The string slices into the skin of his fingers and no matter how tough the calluses, it tears.
But this beat is fast and even though his joints are aching, his arm's out of control like it has a mind of its own and the sweat tat drenches his hair and face seems to smother him, but nothing's going to stop Tom. He;s aiming for oblivion. ~ Melina Marchetta

You have a traitor there, Aslan, said the Witch. Of course everyone present knew that she meant Edmund. But Edmund had got past thinking about himself after all he'd been through and after the talk he'd had that morning. He just went on looking at Aslan. It didn't seem to matter what the Witch said. ~ C.S. Lewis

Aaron flicked his fingers at her. "Eyes, lips, tits, soft skin, hair, vanilla scent, ass, tits again, then your scar. You telling me about it won't change the order. Your eyes have me first regardless. ~ T.S. Joyce

And then that voice from behind her said her name again.
"Celaena."
They had done this.
Her bloody fingers slid down Dorian's face, to his neck. He just stared at her, suddenly still.
"Celaena," a familiar voice said. A warning.
They had did this. They had betrayed her. Betrayed Nehemia. They had taken her away. Her nail brushed Dorian's exposed throat.
"Celaena," the voice said.
Celaena slowly turned.
Chaol stared at her, a hand on his sword. The sword she'd brought to the warehouse- the sword she'd left there. Archer had told her that Chaol had known they were going to do this.
He had known.
She shattered completely, and launched herself at him. ~ Sarah J. Maas