“It’s okay. I’m just in a weird mood. Have you ever had a feeling like something was about to happen?”
“Of course,” Kat replied. “It’s called PMS.”
“ I am in love with you, miranda Grey. I've fallen so far into you that I can't eve see the stars anymore, but it doesn't matter- you're all the light I need."
" Cheesy.”
“faith gaped at him"how the hell did you do this?"
He looked at her as if she'd asked the dumbest question in history. "I'm brilliant.”
“She was famous, and she was insane.
Her voice soared out over the audience, holding them spellbound and enraptured, delivering their hopes and fears tangled in chords and rhythm. They called her an angel, her voice a gift.
She was famous, and she was a liar.”
“she decided no human man would ever touch her again. the doors to her body and heart were already locked, and she would give the key to only one man, perhaps someday...perhaps never...but all the same she didnt care about falling in love, or getting married, or any of that, anymore. it was too late for mortal men to stake any sort of claim to her affections. if she grews old and died alone, it would be in full posession of her heart.
and if she ever gave it, she would give it eternally, and without regret.”
“We don't get to choose how we're born, Miranda, and very rarely how we die; but we get to choose how we live. Life is too short to spend in dread and guilt.”
“Again", he said.
She wanted to scream, but she tried to do as he said. And failed.
"Again."
"Stop saying that! You sound like a fucking Teletubby!”
“I will protect you," she promised the Bosendorfer inside. "I won't let you down."
Sophie gave her a quizzical look.
"Bastards better not hurt my piano," Miranda replied.
"That's what you're worried about right now? What about your boyfriend?”
“I'm sorry. I souldn't have shut you out. I know you're hurting, too. "
"Permission to speak freely, Sire ?"
"Granted."
"You're an asshole," she said and hugged him.”
“god, can you imagine getting married at nineteen?" miranda asked. "when i was nineteen i didnt even know how to do my own laundry." she added, for david's beneit, "you know, laundry? washing your own clothes? there are people who do that."
he rolled his eyes. "i know how to do laundry. i watched my wife do it dozens of times.”
“Gossip was usually a mindless distraction from a far too serious world.”
“Uh.. you'er Sophie?" Mrianda ventured
"That's me"
"How old areyou?"
Sophie rolled ker wide brown eyes,
"Ahunderd and forty-eight" she relied. "I got to live back when women coulden't vote, isn't that awesome?”
“Do you think I'll ever have a real life?"
"Define real."
"You know... a job, a family, a house, stuff like that."
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know. I used to think the idea of normal was awful, but maybe that was just because I never thought I could have it.”
“He wondered if perhaps, subconsciously, he was trying to sabotage her efforts by setting the bar too high, trying to keep her with him longer; but surely his subconscious wasn't that stupid?”
“What about you? If I asked you . . . would you turn me?"
Faith's eyes went wide. "Turn you into a vampire?"
"No, turn me into a frog. Could you do it?"
Faith finished her beer in one long swallow. "I might be able to, physically. But I wouldn't."
Miranda had known she would say that, but still, her heart sank. "Why not?"
She laughed. "Because my boss would kill me.”
“But if you've got a woman, what are you doing here?"
"I don't have a woman but I'm afraid she has me.”
“He toke his gaze off Miranda long enough to size up kat. Miranda could see the calculation in his face:human, female,harmless. "hello".
he gave drew a disdainful glance and, after that, barely allotted him the notice he would give a troublesome insect.”
“i'm not asking you fight. all i need is a ride. then you can crawl back under your rock and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist all you like, but first, get your keys, little girl, we're leaving.”
“What a messed up world I’d stumbled into, where friends were betrayers and the enemy was the one who was sorry. Where friends lied and the enemy told the truth.”
“— ¡Capitán…! ¡Capitán…! ¿Qué broma es ésta? ¿Dónde se han metido?
Una sombra oscura nació de entre las sombras de la cocina. Era un targuí alto, muy delgado, con un oscuro "lithan" cubriéndole el rostro, un fusil en una mano y una larga espada en la otra.
Se detuvo bajo el porche.
— Están muertos -dijo.
Le observó incrédulo.
— ¿Muertos…? -repitió estúpidamente-. ¿Todos…?
— Todos.
— ¿Quién los mató?
— Yo.
Se aproximó sin dar crédito a lo que estaba oyendo.
— ¿Tú…? -inquirió agitando la cabeza como para desechar la idea-.
¿Pretendes decirme que tú, sin ayuda de nadie, has matado a doce soldados, un sargento y un oficial…?
Asintió con naturalidad:
— Dormían.
Abdul-el-Kebir, que había visto morir a miles de personas, que había ordenado ejecutar a muchas, y que aborrecía a todos y cada uno de sus carceleros, experimentó sin embargo una insoportable sensación de angustia y vacío en la boca del estómago, y se apoyó levemente en el poste de madera que soportaba el porche para no perder el equilibrio.
— ¿Los has asesinado mientras dormían? -inquirió-. ¿Por qué?
— Porque ellos asesinaron a mi 1huésped. -Hizo una pausa-. Y porque eran demasiados. Si uno daba la voz de alarma, hubieras muerto de viejo entre estas cuatro paredes…
Abdul-el-Kebir le observó en silencio y agitó la cabeza afirmativamente, como si comprendiese algo que se le antojó oscuro en un principio.
— Ahora te recuerdo… -admitió-.
Eres el targuí que nos dio hospitalidad… Te vi cuando me llevaban.
— Sí -asintió. Soy Gacel Sayah, eras mi huésped, y tengo la obligación de llevarte al otro lado de la frontera.
— ¿Por qué?
Le miró sin comprender. Por último, señaló:
— Es la costumbre… Pediste mi protección y debo protegerte.
— Matar a catorce hombres por protegerme resulta excesivo, ¿no crees…?
El targuí no se dignó responder y echó a andar en dirección a la abierta puerta.
— Traeré los camellos… -dijo-.
Prepárate para un largo viaje.
Le observó mientras se alejaba, perdiéndose de vista”
“In my whole life, I have known no wise people (over a broad subject matter area) who didn't read all the time -- none, zero. You'd be amazed at how much Warren reads--and at how much I read. My children laugh at me. They think I'm a book with a couple of legs sticking out.”
“So he’s gonna want to get out of Dodge as fast as he can.” Sure enough, the caravan was racing down the”
“As a child, I prayed she’d live, that she’d make it through the night. Eventually, I prayed she’d choke to death in her sleep. Not very kind, I know, but it would have meant escape. I was a prisoner of war in my mother’s battle with herself, and the only liberator was death.”
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