Warm Quotes - Page 13

• I picked up my mocha and stood. The cup was still almost half-full, but I didn't want it anymore. Besides, it was now luke-warm. Which meant I didn't have to worry if it was scalding him when I tossed the remains in Ethan's face.I think Finn might have craked a smileas he held the door open for me, but I wasn't sure.

  Jenna Black

  Thinking, Doors, Worry

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• Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die--die, sweetly die--into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit.

  Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

  Heart, Thinking, Law

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• Once you cross into the next loyal kingdom, however... be warned. You may not find such a warm reception. The Mimosa Land and its residents are not nearly so accommodating." This was warm and accommodating? That didn't bode well for the next kingdom. I also found it sad that a place called the Mimosa Land was unfriendly. It sounded like a party waiting to happen.

  Richelle Mead

  Party, Land, Waiting

  Richelle Mead (2011). “Shadow Heir”, p.203, Kensington Publishing Corp.

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• For Poesy alone can tell her dreams, With the fine spell of words alone can save Imagination from the sable charm And dumb enchantment. Who alive can say, ‘Thou art no Poet may’st not tell thy dreams?’ Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved And been well nurtured in his mother tongue. Whether the dream now purpos’d to rehearse Be poet’s or fanatic’s will be known When this warm scribe my hand is in the grave.

  John Keats

  Mother, Dream, Art

  John Keats (2015). “The Complete Poetry of John Keats: Ode on a Grecian Urn + Ode to a Nightingale + Hyperion + Endymion + The Eve of St. Agnes + Isabella + Ode to Psyche + Lamia + Sonnets and more from one of the most beloved English Romantic poets”, p.758, e-artnow

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• It was one of the warm nights at the end of summer that makes promises that won't be kept.

  Cinda Williams Chima

  Summer, Night, Promise

  Cinda Williams Chima (2011). “The Wizard Heir”, p.243, Hachette UK

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• If that was true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Dream, Long, World

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2013). “The Great Gatsby: The Authentic Edition from Fitzgerald’s Original Publisher: The authentic edition from Fitzgerald’s original publisher”, p.128, Simon and Schuster

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• Sleep would be so welcome. A warm blanket of black to erase everything else. Sleep without dreams.

  Gayle Forman

  Dream, Sleep, Black

  Gayle Forman (2009). “If I Stay”, p.86, Penguin

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• The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes.

  Suzanne Collins

  Spring, Winter, Thinking

  Suzanne Collins (2010). “Catching Fire (The Second Book of the Hunger Games)”, p.167, Scholastic Inc.

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• She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.

  John Green

  Falling In Love, Cancer, Eye

  "The Fault in Our Stars". Book by John Green, 2012.

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• We're all afraid of the same stuff. Mostly we're afraid that we're secretly not okay, that we're disgusting, or frauds, or about to be diagnosed with cancer. ... We want to teach you how to quiet the yammer ... how you can create comfort, inside and outside, how you can get warm, how you can feed yourself. And even learn to get through silence. ... There is a wilderness inside you, and a banquet. Both. [p. 253]

  Anne Lamott

  Cancer, Silence, Comfort

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• As the years pass, I am coming more and more to understand that it is the common, everyday blessings of our common everyday lives for which we should be particularly grateful. They are the things that fill our lives with comfort and our hearts with gladness -- just the pure air to breathe and the strength to breath it; just warmth and shelter and home folks; just plain food that gives us strength; the bright sunshine on a cold day; and a cool breeze when the day is warm.

  Laura Ingalls Wilder

  Grateful, Heart, Home

  Laura Ingalls Wilder (2010). “Writings to Young Women from Laura Ingalls Wilder - Volume One: On Wisdom and Virtues”, p.66, Thomas Nelson

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• Flowers, cold from the dew, And autumn's approaching breath, I pluck for the warm, luxuriant braids, Which haven't faded yet. In their nights, fragrantly resinous, Entwined with delightful mystery, They will breathe in her springlike Extraordinary beauty. But in a whirlwind of sound and fire, From her shing head they will flutter And fall—and before her They will die, faintly fragrant still. And, impelled by faithful longing, My obedient gaze will feast upon them— With a reverent hand, Love will gather their rotting remains.

  Anna Akhmatova

  Flower, Fall, Autumn

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• I sat on the bench by the willows and at my honey bun and read Triton. There are some awful things in the world, it’s true, but there are also some great books. When I grow up I would like to write something that someone could read sitting on a bench on a day that isn’t all that warm and they could sit reading it and totally forget where they were or what time it was so that they were more inside the book than inside their own head. I’d like to write like Delany or Heinlein or Le Guin.

  Jo Walton

  Growing Up, Reading, Book

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• Above all else, be true to your heart. When you marry, whether it be a marquis or an estate manager (or both!), it will be for life. You must go where your heart leads and never forget that love is the most precious gift of all. Money and social status are poor substitutes for a warm, tender embrace, and there is little in life more fulfilling than the joy of loving and knowledge that you are loved in return.

  Julia Quinn

  Heart, Love Is, Joy

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• He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and ripped it open, then took out the slip of paper. The soft lights that ringed the mirror lit up the message in a warm glow. It was two short sentences: " KILL ME. IF YOU'VE EVER BEEN MY FRIEND, KILL ME.

  James Dashner

  Mirrors, Light, Two

  James Dashner (2013). “The Maze Runner Complete Collection”, p.1064, Chicken House

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• You can’t just write and write and put things in a drawer. They wither without the warm sun of someone else’s appreciation.

  Anne Morrow Lindbergh

  Inspirational, Gratitude, Appreciation

  Anne Morrow Lindbergh (1974). “Locked rooms and open doors”, Not Avail

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• Yes,” I told him. “I think the guy playing the Pirate King was awesome.” He stopped where he was. “What?” I asked, frowning at the big smile on his face. “I didn’t say I liked the Pirate King,” he told me. “Oh.” I closed my eyes—and there he was. A warm, edgy presence right on the edge of my perception. When I opened my eyes, he was standing right in front of me. “Cool,” I told him. “You’re back.” He kissed me leisurely. When he was finished, I was more than ready to head home. Fast. “You make me laugh,” he told me seriously.

  Patricia Briggs

  Kings, Home, Eye

  Patricia Briggs (2009). “Bone Crossed”, p.211, Penguin

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• we would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.

  Ernest Hemingway

  Love, Romantic, Stars

  Ernest Hemingway (2014). “Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition”, p.31, Simon and Schuster

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• I done me best when I was let. Thinking always if I go all goes. A hundred cares, a tithe of troubles and is there one who understands me? One in a thousand of years of the nights? All me life I have been lived among them but now they are becoming lothed to me. And I am lothing their little warm tricks. And lothing their mean cosy turns. And all the greedy gushes out through their small souls. And all the lazy leaks down over their brash bodies. How small it's all! And me letting on to meself always. And lilting on all the time.

  James Joyce

  Mean, Night, Thinking

  James Joyce (1967). “A shorter Finnegans wake”, Viking Pr

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• He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.

  Veronica Roth

  Kissing, Hands, Long

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• Though why should we expect age to mellow us? If it isn't life's business to reward merit, why should it be life's business to give us warm comfortable feelings towards its end? What possible evolutionary purpose could nostalgia serve?

  Julian Barnes

  Giving, Feelings, Age

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• And yet ... But what if ... I want to do something impossible. Something astounding and unheard of. I want to scrub the moss off the Space Shuttle and fly Julie to the moon and colonise it, or float a capsized cruise ship to some distant island where no one will protest us, or just harness the magic that brings me into the brains of the Living and use it to bring Julie into mine, because it's warm in here, it's quiet and lovely, and in here we aren't an absurd juxtaposition, we are perfect.

  Isaac Marion

  Moon, Islands, Space

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• Maybe he sees it on my face, that fraction of a second when I let my guard down, because in that moment his expression softens and his eyes go bright as flame and even though I barely see him move, suddenly he has closed the space between us and he’s wrapping his warm hands over my shoulders—fingers so warm and strong I almost cry out—and saying, “Lena. I like you, okay? That’s it. That’s all. I like you.” His voice is so low and hypnotic it reminds me of a song. I think of predators dropping silently from trees: I think of enormous cats with glowing amber eyes, just like his.

  Lauren Oliver

  Song, I Like You, Strong

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• The perfect weather of Indian Summer lengthened and lingered, warm sunny days were followed by brisk nights with Halloween a presentiment in the air.

  Wallace Stegner

  Summer, Halloween, Night

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• A cat knows how to be comfortable, how to get the people around it to serve it. In a tranquil domestic situation, the cat is a veritable manipulative genius. It seeks the soft, it seeks the warm, it prefers the quiet and it loves to be full. It displays, when it gets its own way in these matters, a degree of contentment we would all like to emulate.

  Roger Caras

  Cat, People, Contentment

  Roger A. Caras (1987). “A celebration of cats”, Fireside

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