“...the heart of a child can take forty-nine blows before it’s damaged for ever and what’s done can never be undone.”
“Hypocrites,’ replied Cale, ‘I’ve come across a lot of them recently. I mean by that I understand now how many of them there are.”
“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen and waste its sweetness on the desert air.”
“Self-pity, while it should be accorded due respect, is the greatest of all acids to the human soul.”
“Do you have any idea how mad you sound?’
‘Indeed I do. I have in moments of doubt considered the question of my sanity.’ (...)
‘And?’
‘Then I consider what a piece of work is man. How defective in reason, how mean his facilities, how ugly in form and movement, in action how like a devil, in apprehension how like a cow. The beauty of the world? The paragon of animals? To me the quintessence of dust.”
“We are all cynics now, I suppose, and even a mewling infant knows that to save a life is to make an eternal enemy.”
“Even for the very clever it can be like breaking bones to stand back from something that’s been in front of you all your life.”
“Feeling sorry for yourself is a universal solvent of salvation.”
“It's pointless to blame someone for being themselves and looking to their own interests.”
“That’s why it’s much better not to have friends if you have the strength of character to do without them. In the end friends always turn into a nuisance of one kind or another. But if you must have them let them alone and accept that you must allow everyone the right to exist in accordance with the character he has, whatever it turns out to be.”
“Whatever discoveries have been made in the land of self-delusion, many undiscovered regions remain to be explored.”
“Bůh není nějaký kriminálník, který podvádí v kartách. Chce, abychom se jeho zákony řídili svobodně, z vlastní vůle. Ani Bůh nedokáže nakreslit kulatý čtverec. Bůh je osamělý - chce, aby si lidé poslušnost sami zvolili, a ne aby k ní byli přinuceni strachem.”
“Lidské srdce je malé, touží ale po velkých věcech. Nestačí ani zasytit psa, ale celý svět pro něj není dost velký.”
“...and what is a good weapon but a good idea made murderous flesh?”
“It is not against reason, said the Englishman, to prefer the destruction of the world to a scratch on your finger – how much easier to understand the same price for the gash in your soul.”
“The search for knowledge and the discovery of a great weapon are virtually one and the same. War is the father of everything.”
“Nikdy nepřerušuj nepřítele, když se dopouští omylu.”
“Nemá smysl zlobit se na někoho za to, že je sám sebou a stará se o vlastní zájmy.”
“If he was indeed mad, his delusions were beautifully organized.”
“You can embark on new and steeper versions of your old sins, you know, and cry tears while doing it that are genuine as any.”
“I love whom I love," Prince Lir repeated firmly. "You have no power over anything that matters.”
“The ides of March are come.
Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; but not gone.”
“My name...my name is Mary. I'm here with a friend.'
Rhage stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed. "Say that again,' he whispered.
'Ah, my name is Mary Luce. I'm a friend of Bella's...We came here with a boy, with John Matthew. We were invited.'
Rhage shivered, a balmy rush blooming out all over his skin. The musical lilt of her voice, the rhythm of her speech, the sound of her words, it all spread through him, calming him, comforting him. Chaining him sweetly.
He closed his eyes. 'Say something else.'
'What?' she asked, baffled.
'Talk. Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.'
She was silent, and he was about to demand that she speak when she said, 'You don't look well. Do you need a doctor?'
He found himself swaying. The words didn't matter. It was her sound: low, soft, a quiet brushing in his ears. He felt as if here being stroked on the inside of his skin.
'More,' he said, twisting his palm around to the front of her neck so he could feel the vibrations in her throat better.
'Could you... could you please let go of me?'
'No.' He brought his other arm up. She was wearing some kind of fleece, and he moved the collar aside, putting his hand on her shoulder so she couldn't get away from him. 'Talk.'
She started to struggle. 'You're crowding me.'
'I know. Talk.'
'Oh for God's sake, what do you want me to say?'
Even exasperated, her voice was beautiful. 'Anything.'
'Fine. Get your hand off my throat and let me go or I'm going to knee you where it counts.'
He laughed. Then sank his lower body into her, trapping her with his thighs and hips. She stiffened against him, but he got an ample feel of her. She was built lean, though there was no doubt she was female. Her breasts hit his chest, her hips cushioned his, her stomach was soft.
'Keep talking,' he said in her ear. God, she smelled good. Clean. Fresh. Like lemon.
When she pushed against him, he leaned his full weight into her. Her breath came out in a rush.
'Please,' he murmured.
Her chest moved against his as if she were inhaling. 'I... er, I have nothing to say. Except get off of me.'
He smiled, careful to keep his mouth closed. There was no sense showing off his fangs, especially if she didn't know what he was. 'So say that.'
'What?'
'Nothing. Say nothing. Over and over and over again. Do it.'
She bristled, the scent of fear replaced by a sharp spice, like fresh, pungent mint from a garden. She was annoyed now. 'Say it.'
"Fine. Nothing. Nothing.' Abruptly she laughed, and the sound shot right through to his spine, burning him. 'Nothing, nothing. No-thing. No-thing. Noooooothing. There, is that good enought for you? Will you let me go now?”
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