“Pray that God is the most important thing in your life, so much so that hurting him wold hurt you. When that happens, and your choices line up with his, it produces an amazing ripple effect of blessings--in your life, that of your family, and for the man you eventually marry.”
“But the irony is that unless God's in the center of it, you can get singed pretty badly. ”
“The moon hung heavy over the lake like an overripe orange, trickling its golden stream of light across inky depths.”
“[T]welve year old Libby O'Shea coasted on a homemade swing, toes touching a blinding-blue heaven dolloped with clouds.”
“She sighed. "I don't know, Father, how do you get over someone who's held your heart in their hands for so long? And what do you do when they constantly turn your love away, leaving you battered and bruised?" A sob broke free from her throat to pierce the darkness.
His arm stiffened, paralyzed over her shoulder.
Marcy's voice rose, quiet and strong, to counter her daughter's pain. "You run to the arms of the Almighty, Lizzie. 'Because thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.' That's the only place our hearts are safe, the only place they can heal.”
“You know the Wicked Witch of Tenth Street? - Ananka's mother, to Principal Wickham”
“I think you should kiss me now."
He hummed quietly, more of a deep rumble, and his hips lifted the barest bit into my touch as my hands journeyed higher, almost to his crotch. "I don't take orders well, Queen Ruckler." His voice was becoming deeper, sounding just as breathless as mine had.”
“Helpless, I clenched my fists against my back, well aware that every mile, every minute that ticked by, took me ever farther from getting to them in time and closer to losing the red dragon forever.”
“Artham felt lighter and stronger, and for the first time in nine years, his mind was clear and sure. The words to a hundred of his own poems scrolled across his memory; he saw faces of old friends, battles he had fought, and even the most terrible moments of his life - and yet he remained himself. The wild animal inside that he had struggled so long to kill pulsed with power, but it was no longer his master. He rode the pain like a knight rides a horse. ...
Artham's eyes watered from the wind and from the speed and from the magnificent beauty of the land arrayed below him. Water streaked from the corners of his eyes ... and , in the vicious cold froze into silvery jewels.
He would have to write a poem about this.”
“Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.”
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