“Why do people always assume that volume will succeed when logic won’t? - Damon”
"I know I am."
"And making sense!"
"Thank you kindly."
"And in sentences!"
"I've noticed." - Stefan and Elena”
“Elena startled both of them by flying up so quickly that Stefan had to grab her by the waist to keep her from shooting toward the ceiling.
I thought you had gravity!”
So did I! What do I do?”
Think heavy thoughts!”
What if it doesn’t work?”
We’ll buy you an anchor!”
“Come on, it’s an American tradition. Apple soup? Mom’s homemade chicken pie?'
She chuckled in spite of herself, then winced. 'It’s apple pie and Mom’s homemade chicken soup. But you didn’t do badly, for a start.”
“Yeah, tell me I’m a bottle of single malt scotch, she thought. That’s the way to my heart.”
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“As warm as chicken-apple soup.”
“I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”
“For a moment, as Damon glanced toward Elena, their gazes met and something electric passed between them. It made Elena tingle all over, that look did.”
“And just then Damon stepped out of the coat closet, and at the same time Aunt Maggie tripped him neatly and said, “Bathroom door beside you,” and picked up a vase and hit the rising Damon over the head with it. Hard.”
“Bonnie, believe in me. I’ll save you.
I remember how to fly.”
“You,” Damon said somewhat indistinctly through the blood in his mouth, “have been a naughty boy, boy.”
“I am not an angel and I am not a spirit. I'm Elena Gilbert and I've been to the Other Side. And right now I'm ready to do whatever needs to be done, which seems to include kicking some ass!”
“Elena smiled and he had to smile back, at first just a quirk of the lip, and then a full smile. She was…Damn it, she was everything. Witty, enchanting, brave, smart…and beautiful. And he knew that his eyes were saying all that and that she wasn’t turning away.”
“Whatever. I just won’t have Elena hurt, is all. Or the little red-headed witch.”
“Ah, yes, sweet Bonnie. I wouldn’t mind one or two like her. One for Samhain and one for the Solstice.”
Damon snorted drowsily. “There aren’t two like her; I don’t care where you look. I won’t have her hurt either.”
“You didn’t feed from her,” he said, and this was not a question.
“Swill poison? Not my kind of fun, little brother.”
One corner of Stefan’s mouth quirked up. He made no response to this, but simply looked at Damon with eyes that were... knowing. Damon bridled.
“I told the truth!”
“Going to take it up as a hobby?”
“Wherever her feet pass, white flowers part the grass.”
“Bonnie who had never hurt a - a harmless thing for malice. Bonnie who was like a kitten making airy pounces at no prey at all. Bonnie with her hair that was called something strawberry but that looked simply as if it was on fire. Bonnie of the translucent skin with the delicate violet fjords and estuaries of veins all over her throat and inner arms. Bonnie who had lately taken to looking at him sideways with her large childlike eyes big and brown under lashes like stars...”
“They blossom ever where you tread...
Wild roses bloody red.”
“Days are precious, dinna lose them. Flo`ers will fade and so will ye... Come to me, ye fair young maidens. While young and fair ye still may be.”
“Awakening will be sudden and shocking. You and I must be there for her awakening. We won`t be there for (her?) later on. That`s for other hands to do.”
“And then the swelling thing burst.
There was, to Damon, a palpable if not audible crack as the stone encasing his soul burst open and a great piece fell away.”
“Indeed, the idea that doubt can be heroic, if it is locked into a structure as grand as that of the paintings of Cezanne's old age, is one of the keys to our century. A touchstone of modernity itself.”
“Nearly every aspect of life was subject to some measure of legal restraint. At a local level, you could be fined for letting your ducks wander in the road, for misappropriating town gravel, for having a guest in your house without a permit from the local bailiff.”
“But you should act, be brave, seize life by the scruff of the neck. Believe me, little one, you should only regret inactivity, indecisiveness, hesitation. You shouldn’t regret actions or decisions, even if they occasionally end in sadness and regret.”
“Trouble is, you can't run away from yourself." Coach snatched the towel from his shoulder, folded into a perfect square, and set it in the space between us. "Unfortunately," he said, "ain't nobody that fast.”
“Don't you know how much I hero-worshiped you when I was a kid? You
were Marie Curie crossed with Emily Bronte crossed with Joan of Arc to
me when I was ten. And when i told you that, you said my cultural
references were the sign of a colonized mind.”
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