Spun Quotes - Page 4

• Startled, he loosed his grasp and she pulled free. He clutched her arm, but she spun around and pressed her mouth to his. His lips were rough, chapped. She felt the sting of fangs against her bottom lip. He made a sharp sound in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. Mouth opening under hers. The smell of him- of cold, damp stone- made her head swim. One kiss slid into another and it was perfect, was exactly right, was real.

  Holly Black

  Real, Eye, Kissing

  Holly Black (2006). “Valiant: A Modern Tale of Faerie”, p.230, Simon and Schuster

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• Her little fists pummeled at him, and he accepted the abuse. Until he realized she’d made an improper fist and was actually hurting herself. He wound an arm around her waist, spun her and slammed her into the hard line of his body to still her. “Let me go!” “In a minute.” As she struggled, he pulled her thumb out from beneath her fingers and rearranged her fist. “Hit like this.” Done, he released her.

  Gena Showalter

  Hurt, Abuse, Done

  Gena Showalter (2016). “The Darkest Seduction”, p.348, HQN Books

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• It's too late. It was too late by the time I arrived in London to turn your notebook into a dove; there were too many people already involved. Anything either of us does has an effect on everyone here, on every patron who walks through those gates. Hundreds if not thousands of people. All flies in a spiderweb that was spun when I was six years old and now I can barely move for fear of losing someone else.

  Erin Morgenstern

  Notebook, Moving, Years

  Erin Morgenstern (2016). “The Night Circus”, p.323, Random House

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• Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you, I spun that secret thread Where the dew you mused on Slid down to pitchers Tended by a word that reached no one’s heart. There you first fully entered the name that is yours, you stepped to yourself on steady feet, the hammers swung free in the belfry of your silence, things overheard thrust through to you, what’s dead put it’s arm around you too, and the three of you walked through the evening. Render me bitter. Number me among the almonds

  Paul Celan

  Heart, Eye, Names

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• It was a pity that there was no radar to guide one across the trackless seas of life. Every man had to find his own way, steered by some secret compass of the soul. And sometimes, late or early, the compass lost its power and spun aimlessly on its bearings. Alan Bishop

  Arthur C. Clarke

  Men, Sea, Soul

  Arthur C. Clarke (2012). “Glide Path”, p.37, RosettaBooks

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• Brigan spun around to face the man, swearing with as much as exasperation and fury as Fire had ever heard anyone swear. The man scuttled away in alarm.

  Kristin Cashore

  Men, Fire, Alarms

  Kristin Cashore (2009). “Fire”, p.210, Penguin

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• Newt spun, making her robe unfurl. “He’s my familiar, bought and paid for. I can claim anything of his. Even his life.” Al cleared his throat nervously. “That’s good to know,” he said lightly. “Important safety tip. Rachel, write that down somewhere as lesson number one.

  Kim Harrison

  Writing, Numbers, Safety

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• Dash is for sure straight!" Boomer announced. "He has a super-pretty ex-girlfriend named Sofia, who I think he still has a thing for, and also, in seventh grade, there was a game of spin the bottle and it was my turn and I spun and it landed at Dash, but he wouldn't let me kiss him.

  David Levithan

  Girlfriend, Kissing, Thinking

  Rachel Cohn, David Levithan (2010). “Dash & Lily's Book of Dares”, p.187, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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• The cold stars spun to the ancient rhythm, the august march of an everlasting symphony. They are old, the stars, and their memory is long.

  Rick Yancey

  Stars, Memories, August

  Rick Yancey (2010). “The Curse of the Wendigo”, p.63, Simon and Schuster

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• My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down, I’ll dress you all in yellow silk and on your head a crown. For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord. I’ll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword. And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree. She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me. I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass, But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass.

  George R. R. Martin

  Hair, Yellow, Tree

  George R. R. Martin (2012). “George R. R. Martin's A Game of Thrones 5-Book Boxed Set (Song of Ice and Fire Series): A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows, and and A Dance with Dragons”, p.1715, Bantam

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• OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!” Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

  J. K. Rowling

  White, Funny Harry Potter, Ferrets

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• People aren’t interested in the truth, Dafar. They’re interested in what keeps them safe. They’re interested in being looked after. They’re interested in a tale being spun... Mighty men have moments of great despair that common people do not want to know about.

  Melina Marchetta

  Men, People, Despair

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• Nefarious. This is what we get when we hire a Yale boy.” “You missed sacrosanct earlier. And taciturn and glowering,” Jack said. “What’s glowering?” “Me, apparently.” Wilkins pointed. “Now that has to be a joke.” He turned to Davis. “You heard that, right?” Davis didn’t answer him, having spun his chair around to type something at his computer. “Let’s see what Google says… Ah – here it is. ‘Glowering: dark; showing a brooding ill humor.

  Julie James

  Dark, Boys, Yale

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• It is often tragic to see how blatantly a man bungles his own life and the lives of others yet remains totally incapable of seeing how much the whole tragedy originates in himself, and how he continually feeds it and keeps it going. Not consciously, of course—for consciously he is engaged in bewailing and cursing a faithless world that recedes further and further into the distance. Rather, it is an unconscious factor which spins the illusions that veil his world. And what is being spun is a cocoon, which in the end will completely envelop him.

  Carl Jung

  Distance, Men, Tragedy

  Carl Gustav Jung (1959). “pt. 1. The archetypes and the collective unconscious”

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• The thing he wished for most was a thing he had never wished for at all, not until he had discovered her. And it came true that night, and many nights after. A brief and shining span of happiness, it was the pivot point around which his whole life spun.

  Laini Taylor

  Night, Shining, Whole Life

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• Everything lined up. It has been easy, as if it were meant-" "Meant!" she said, amazed. She spun to face him, which, in the crush, brought her against his chest as if they were still dancing. She fought backward for space. As if what were meant?" "You," he said. "And me.

  Laini Taylor

  Crush, Space, Dancing

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• He told me once to be brave, and though I have stood still while knives spun toward my face and jumped off a roof, I never thought I would need bravery in the small moments of my life. I do.

  Veronica Roth

  Knives, Bravery, Needs

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• Ralston looked down his long, elegant nose at the vile creature at his feet, and said, “You just impugned the honor of my future marchioness. Choose your seconds. I will see you at dawn.” Leaving Oxford sputtering on the ground, Ralston spun on one elegant heel to face Benedick. “When I am done with him, I am coming for your sister. And, if you intend to keep me from her, you had better have an army at your side.

  Sarah MacLean

  Army, Your Side, Oxford

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• I grew up in those years when the Old West was passing and the New West was emerging. It was a time when we still heard echoes and already saw shadows, on moonlit nights when the coyotes yapped on the hilltops, and on hot summer afternoons when mirages shimmered, dust devils spun across the flats, and towering cumulus clouds sailed like galleons across the vast blueness of the sky. Echoes of remembrance of what men once did there, and visions of what they would do together.

  Hal Borland

  Summer, Night, Men

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• He leaped to his feet, grabbed her, and spun her to face him. "No more bullshit, Sin. Feel what you've done." He took her hand and pressed it to her chest, where her heart was pounding painfully fast. So was his. "Let yourself feel something for someone else." ~Con

  Larissa Ione

  Heart, Hands, Feet

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• Do you guys remember that time when we were all definitely going to die and then Ben grabbed the steering wheel and dodged a ginormous freaking cow and spun the car like the teacups at Disney World and we didn't die?

  John Green

  Car, Guy, World

  John Green (2013). “Paper Towns”, p.272, A&C Black

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• CHOW^TM contained spun, plaited, and woven protein molecules, capped and coded, carefully designed to be ignored by even the most ravenous digestive tract enzymes; no-cal sweeteners; mineral oils replacing vegetable oils; fibrous materials, colorings, and flavorings. The end result was a foodstuff almost indistinguishable from any other except for two things. Firstly, the price, which was slightly higher, and secondly, the nutritional content, which was roughly equivalent to that of a Sony Walkman.

  Neil Gaiman

  Vegetables, Two, Oil

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• Perhaps the author cited is one of those, who, shunning the practice of the world, have taught the world to shun return! whose poetry is too finely spun, whose philosophy is too and mystified for popular demand: perhaps we have experienced feeling which Mr. Wordsworth alludes to, in a poem worthy of simplicity and loneliness of the sentiment "Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure; Sighed to think I read a book Only read perhaps by me!

  Samuel Laman Blanchard

  Lonely, Philosophy, Loneliness

  "Sketches from Life" by Laman Blanchard. "Quotations", 1846.

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• Out of the night you burn, Manhattan, In a vesture of gold-- Spun of innumerable arcs, Flaring and multiplying-- Gold at the uttermost circles fading Into the tenderest hint of jade, Or fusing in tremulous twilight blues, Robing the far-flung offices, Scintillant-storied, forking flame, Or soaring to luminous amethyst Over the steeples aureoled.

  Lola Ridge

  New York, Twilight, Night

  Lola Ridge (1918). “The Ghetto, and Other Poems”

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• Though Diogenes lived in a tub, there might be, for aught I know, as much pride under his rags, as in the fine-spun garments of the divine Plato.

  Jonathan Swift

  Plato, Pride, Might

  Jonathan Swift (1861). “The Works of Jonathan Swift ...: With Cop'ous Notes and Additions”, p.554

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