“Vane grabbed me. “DuLac, let’s chat.”
Chat. British-speak for “Stand still while I yell at you.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“Vane’s lips tightened to suppress a smile. “Why so hostile, love?”
“You whacked me on the head with a ball!”
“You deserved it.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“I caught his hand. “What do you want me to do?”
Leaning down, he kissed the pulse beating on my neck just above the damaged skin. “Tomorrow, I need you to die.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“Well, can you tell her that?"
He looked down at his feet. "I will. I will."
Guy-speak for, "I plan to keep avoiding her until she gives up.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“You'll get fired if anyone finds out about us!"
"So many rules in this century," Vane muttered.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“If I were to lock you up in a dungeon, I guarantee you would not be bored.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“Plus, I happened to be a history nerd. Why else would I be interested in a guy born in the year 519?”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“The last declaration he'd made to me hung between us. The L word. The one that had nothing to do with like.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“The combination of razor-sharp wit (completely real) and his credentials (completely fake) had won them over in the end.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
“The Lady may favor
you, but at least I am in charge of my own destiny.”
― Priya Ardis, quote from My Merlin Awakening
Priya Ardis
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“My name is Four,” I say. “Call me ‘Stiff’ again and you and I will have a problem.”
― Veronica Roth, quote from The Transfer
“He is holding a book.
Inside the book is the Universe.”
― Neil Gaiman, quote from The Sandman: Endless Nights
“There is one in this tribe too often miserable - a child bereaved of both parents. None cares for this child: she is fed sometimes, but oftener forgotten: a hut rarely receives her: the hollow tree and chill cavern are her home. Forsaken, lost, and wandering, she lives more with the wild beast and bird than with her own kind. Hunger and cold are her comrades: sadness hovers over, and solitude besets her round. Unheeded and unvalued, she should die: but she both lives and grows: the green wilderness nurses her, and becomes to her a mother: feeds her on juicy berry, on saccharine root and nut.
There is something in the air of this clime which fosters life kindly: there must be something, too, in its dews, which heals with sovereign balm. Its gentle seasons exaggerate no passion, no sense; its temperature tends to harmony; its breezes, you would say, bring down from heaven the germ of pure thought, and purer feeling. Not grotesquely fantastic are the forms of cliff and foliage; not violently vivid the colouring of flower and bird: in all the grandeur of these forests there is repose; in all their freshness there is tenderness.
The gentle charm vouchsafed to flower and tree, - bestowed on deer and dove, - has not been denied to the human nursling. All solitary, she has sprung up straight and graceful. Nature cast her features in a fine mould; they have matured in their pure, accurate first lines, unaltered by the shocks of disease. No fierce dry blast has dealt rudely with the surface of her frame; no burning sun has crisped or withered her tresses: her form gleams ivory-white through the trees; her hair flows plenteous, long, and glossy; her eyes, not dazzled by vertical fires, beam in the shade large and open, and full and dewy: above those eyes, when the breeze bares her forehead, shines an expanse fair and ample, - a clear, candid page, whereon knowledge, should knowledge ever come, might write a golden record. You see in the desolate young savage nothing vicious or vacant; she haunts the wood harmless and thoughtful: though of what one so untaught can think, it is not easy to divine.
On the evening of one summer day, before the Flood, being utterly alone - for she had lost all trace of her tribe, who had wandered leagues away, she knew not where, - she went up from the vale, to watch Day take leave and Night arrive. A crag, overspread by a tree, was her station: the oak-roots, turfed and mossed, gave a seat: the oak-boughs, thick-leaved, wove a canopy.
Slow and grand the Day withdrew, passing in purple fire, and parting to the farewell of a wild, low chorus from the woodlands. Then Night entered, quiet as death: the wind fell, the birds ceased singing. Now every nest held happy mates, and hart and hind slumbered blissfully safe in their lair.
The girl sat, her body still, her soul astir; occupied, however, rather in feeling than in thinking, - in wishing, than hoping, - in imagining, than projecting. She felt the world, the sky, the night, boundlessly mighty. Of all things, herself seemed to herself the centre, - a small, forgotten atom of life, a spark of soul, emitted inadvertent from the great creative source, and now burning unmarked to waste in the heart of a black hollow. She asked, was she thus to burn out and perish, her living light doing no good, never seen, never needed, - a star in an else starless firmament, - which nor shepherd, nor wanderer, nor sage, nor priest, tracked as a guide, or read as a prophecy? Could this be, she demanded, when the flame of her intelligence burned so vivid; when her life beat so true, and real, and potent; when something within her stirred disquieted, and restlessly asserted a God-given strength, for which it insisted she should find exercise?”
― Charlotte Brontë, quote from Shirley
“I’ve never been the one. Not for anybody.”
He closed the distance between them.
“You’ll get used to it.” He tipped her face up to his, kissed her.
“Why? Why am I the one?”
“Because my life opened up, and it flooded with color when you walked back into it.”
― Nora Roberts, quote from Vision in White
“You proposed over a plate of burned bacon?”
― Shelly Crane, quote from Accordance
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