Lays Quotes - Page 27

• He touched the rough crucifix that lay against his chest and whispered to the moving air, "Lord, that she might be safe, she and my children." Then turned his cheek to her reaching hand and touched her throught the veils of time.

  Diana Gabaldon

  Children, Moving, Air

  Diana Gabaldon (2011). “The Scottish Prisoner: A Novel”, p.521, Delacorte Press

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• We go to the past to lay the blame - since the past can't argue. We go to our past selves to account for our present miseries.

  Glen Duncan

  Past, Self, Arguing

  Glen Duncan (2000). “Love remains”

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• Meanwhile the 3 a.m. drunks of the world would lay in their beds, trying in vain to sleep, and deserving that rest, if they could find it.

  Charles Bukowski

  Sleep, Alcohol, Trying

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• Into the night, in the dark, he lay beside her, listening to her breathe. He knew the varied and sundry reasons a man would kill. But none were more fierce, none were more vital than to hold safe what he loved.

  Nora Roberts

  Dark, Night, Men

  J. D. Robb, Nora Roberts (2011). “J.D. Robb THE IN DEATH COLLECTION”, p.47, Penguin

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• It was pitch dark. I could hear only the violin, and it was as though Juliek's soul were the bow. He was playing his life. The whole of his life was gliding on the strings--his last hopes, his charred past, his extinguished future. He played as he would never play again...When I awoke, in the daylight, I could see Juliek, opposite me, slumped over, dead. Near him lay his violin, smashed, trampled, a strange overwhelming little corpse.

  Elie Wiesel

  Dark, Past, Opposites

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• Lifting our cup means sharing our life so we can celebrate it. When we truly believe we are called to lay down our lives for our friends, we must dare to take the risk to let others know what we are living.

  Henri Nouwen

  Believe, Mean, Risk

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• People thought he was a glutton for punishment, that he liked getting dumped. But it wasn't like that. He could just never see anything coming, and as he lay on the solid, uneven ground with Hassan pressing too hard on his forehead, Colin Singleton's distance from his glasses made him realize the problem: myopia. He was nearsighted. The future lay before him, inevitable but invisible.

  John Green

  Real, Distance, Glasses

  John Green (2008). “An Abundance of Katherines”, p.39, Penguin

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• Do you know who Karl Marx is? He is this strange little man, long dead, who lived his narrow little life, and somehow managed by the power of his wayward brain to lay hold upon millions of human lives!

  Anchee Min

  Men, Long, Brain

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• Hey." She said, looking up from an open book propped up on one knee. She brushed a few strands of pale hair out of her face. Her boyfriend, Christian, lay on the floor near her, his head propped up on her other knee. He greeted me by way of a nod. Concidering the antagonism the sometimes flared up between us, that was almost on par with him giving me a bear hug.

  Richelle Mead

  Christian, Book, Hair

  Richelle Mead (2008). “Frostbite: A Vampire Academy Novel”, p.19, Penguin

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• Where the shadow of the bridge fell I could see down for a long way, but not as far as the bottom. When you leave a leaf in water a long time after awhile the tissue will be gone and the delicate fibres waving slow as the motion of sleep. They don't touch one another, no matter how knotted up they once were, no matter how close they lay once to the bones.

  William Faulkner

  Sleep, Bridges, Long

  William Faulkner (1946). “The Sound and the Fury: And As I Lay Dying”, New York : The Modern library

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• But still there are moments when a brother and sister can lay down their instruments of torture for a moment and speak as civilized human beings and Bruno decided to make this one of those moments.

  John Boyne

  Brother, Speak, Moments

  John Boyne (2012). “The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas”, p.158, Random House

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• Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.

  George R. R. Martin

  Dream, Eye, Kissing

  George R. R. Martin (2003). “A Storm of Swords: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book Three”, p.1098, Bantam

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• I lay in that tub on the seventeenth floor of this hotel for-women-only, high up over the jazz and push of New York, for near unto an hour, and I felt myself growing pure again. I don't believe in baptism or the waters of Jordan or anything like that, but I guess I feel about a hot bath the way those religious people feel about holy water.

  Sylvia Plath

  Religious, New York, Believe

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.13, Hamilton Books

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• Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

  William Shakespeare

  Love You, Bitter, Rebuke

  William Shakespeare, George Steevens, Samuel Johnson, Alexander Pope, Mr Theobald (Lewis) (1803). “Much ado about nothing. Midsummer night's dream. Love's labour's lost. Merchant of Venice. As you like it”

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• Know, oh prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars.

  Robert E. Howard

  Stars, Ocean, Son

  Robert E Howard “Conan the Barbarian”, Lulu.com

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• I have terrible nightmares, you know. Every night when I come home from a long day’s dying, I take off my skin and lay it nicely on my armoire. I take off my bones and hang them up on the hatstand. I set my scythe to washing on the old stove. I eat a nice supper of mouse-and-myrrh soup. Some nights I drink off a nice red wine. White does not agree with me. I lay myself down on a bed of lilies and still, I cannot sleep.

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Nice, Home, Wine

  Catherynne M. Valente (2014). “The Fairyland Series”, p.175, Feiwel & Friends

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• There were days, rainy gray days, when the streets of Brooklyn were worthy of a photograph, every window the lens of a Leica, the view grainy and immobile. We gathered our colored pencils and sheets of paper and drew like wild, feral children into the night, until, exhausted, we fell into bed. We lay in each other's arms, still awkward but happy, exchanging breathless kisses into sleep.

  Patti Smith

  Children, Sleep, Kissing

  "Just Kids". Book by Patti Smith, January 19, 2010.

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• I think it was Milosz, the Polish poet, who when he lay in a doorway and watched the bullets lifting the cobbles out of the street beside him realised that most poetry is not equipped for life in a world where people actually die. But some is.

  Ted Hughes

  Thinking, People, World

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• Next to him lay his violin, trampled, an eerily poignant little corpse.

  Elie Wiesel

  Littles, Violin, Next

  Elie Wiesel, Marion Wiesel (2012). “Night”, p.134, Penguin UK

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• However wretched her origins, she chose freely to continue her crimes against us from the moment she woke to this life. It is easy to forgive beautiful women, especially when they lay a sorrowful tale before you like a sugar-dusted meal. It does not mean they deserve forgiveness.

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Beautiful, Mean, Forgiving

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• To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year, Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed, The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles.

  Arthur Conan Doyle

  Beautiful, Eye, Years

  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (2014). “Sherlock Holmes Complete Collection With illustrated Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - 4 Novels, 56 Short Stories and 120+ illustrations”, p.790, Ageless Reads

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• But that wasn't quite right. I called it a nine because I was saving my ten. And here it was, the great and terrible ten, slamming me again and again as I lay still and alone in my bed staring at the ceiling, the waves tossing me against the rocks then pulling me back out to sea so they could launch me again into the jagged face of the cliff, leaving me floating faceup on the water, undrowned.

  John Green

  Rocks, Sea, Water

  John Green (2012). “The Fault in Our Stars”, p.170, Penguin UK

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• If you lay one hand on Simon, vampire, I'll have you chopped up into tiny pieces and fed to my cat. Understand?

  Cassandra Clare

  Cat, Hands, Vampire

  Cassandra Clare (2012). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instruments Series (5 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass; City of Fallen Angels, City of Lost Souls”, p.1277, Simon and Schuster

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• Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young, the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom, and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above, it was green with vegetation, and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.

  Mark Twain

  Summer, Song, Morning

  Mark Twain, General Press (2016). “The Complete Works of Mark Twain: All 13 Novels, Short Stories, Poetry and Essays”, p.617, GENERAL PRESS

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• Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.

  James Joyce

  Song, Sadness, Sleep

  James Joyce (2013). “Four Novels by James Joyce”, p.1674, eBookIt.com

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