Ellis Redding Quotes

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So, open your mouth, lad! For every voice counts!
Dr. Seuss (One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish)
I come to a red light, tempted to go through it, then stop once I see a billboard sign that I don’t remember seeing and I look up at it. All it says is 'Disappear Here' and even though it’s probably an ad for some resort, it still freaks me out a little and I step on the gas really hard and the car screeches as I leave the light.
Bret Easton Ellis (Less Than Zero)
Elli couldn’t help it, she had to. She smiled before saying, “Nothing much, but Shea?” “Yeah?” he asked wearily as she smirked up at him. “I’ll never break your heart. I’ll never make you cry,” she continued to sing the chorus of the well known Backstreet Boys song as Shea turned beet red with embarrassment. “Grace, I swear I’m going to kill you!” Shea yelled.
Toni Aleo (Taking Shots (Assassins, #1))
good morning sinners. vampiric red bull intake in pub smoking compound commenced. day of heavy brain-fingering ahead.
Warren Ellis
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE is scrawled in blood red lettering on the side of the Chemical Bank near the corner of Eleventh and First and is in print large enough to be seen from the backseat of the cab as it lurches forward in the traffic leaving Wall Street and just as Timothy Price notices the words a bus pulls up, the advertisement for Les Miserables on its side blocking his view, but Price who is with Piece and Piece and twenty-six doesn't seem to care because he tells the driver he will give him five dollars to turn up the radio, "Be My Baby" on WYNN, and the driver, black, not American, does so.
Bret Easton Ellis (American Psycho)
If you don’t know what to do with the rest of your life, make your bed. If you’re going to be a couch potato, at least fluff the pillows. If you can’t afford pearls, red nail polish is your best accessory. If you don’t have time to do your nails, smile and stand up straight.
Helen Ellis (Southern Lady Code: Essays)
But I am not a monster because I kill. Killing is easy. I am a monster because I accept the hard choices. (Frank Moses)
Warren Ellis (Red)
The real Julian Wells didn't die in a cherry-red convertible, overdosing on a highway in Joshua Tree while a choir soared over the sound track.
Bret Easton Ellis (Imperial Bedrooms)
While walking back to the highway I stop, choke back a sob, my throat tightens. "I just want to..." Facing the skyline, through all the baby talk, I murmur, "keep the game going." As I stand, frozen in position, an old woman emerges behind a Threepenny Opera poster at a deserted bus stop and she's homeless and begging, hobbling over, her face covered with sores that look like bugs, holding out a shaking red hand. "Oh will you please go away?" I sigh. She tells me to get a haircut.
Bret Easton Ellis (American Psycho)
Someone has already taken out a Minolta cellular phone and called for a car, and then, when I'm not really listening, watching instead someone who looks remarkably like Marcus Halberstam paying a check, someone asks, simply, not in relation to anything, "Why? " and though I'm very proud that I have cold blood and that I can keep my nerve and do what I'm supposed to do, I catch something, then realize it: Why? and automatically answering, out of the blue, for no reason, just opening my mouth, words coming out, summarizing for the idiots: "Well, though I know I should have done that instead of not doing it, I'm twenty-seven for Christ sakes and this is, uh, how life presents itself in a bar or in a club in New York, maybe anywhere, at the end of the century and how people, you know, me, behave, and this is what being Pat rick means to me, I guess, so, well, yup, uh..." and this is followed by a sigh, then a slight shrug and another sigh, and above one of the doors covered by red velvet drapes in Harry's is a sign and on the sign in letters that match the drapes' color are the words THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.
Bret Easton Ellis (American Psycho)
My favorite feature is my red hair. Why wouldn't it be? It sets me apart from other people who don't have red hair, and it instantly bonds me with people who do. Experts often say that redheads are an endangered species - but experts say a lot of things. My own hasty scans of sidewalks and shopping malls show plenty of us out and about. Maybe the experts are just saying that because they are jealous of all the redheads - and the only revenge they know is to claim that we will all die.
Ellie Kemper (My Squirrel Days)
From his vantage, three steps back and to the right, Tallow could see Rosato's eye a good five inches outside Rosato's head and still attached to his eye socket by a mess of red worms. In that single second, Tallow abstractedly realized that in his last moment of life, James Rosato could see his killer from two different angles.
Warren Ellis (Gun Machine)
Burr had the dark and severe coloring of his Edwards ancestry, with black hair receding from the forehead and dark brown, almost black, eyes that suggested a cross between an eagle and a raven. Hamilton had a light peaches and cream complexion with violet-blue eyes and auburn-red hair, all of which came together to suggest an animated beam of light to Burr’s somewhat stationary shadow.
Joseph J. Ellis (Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation)
She didn’t heed the warning. “So they pay for everything? Doesn’t that make you feel guilty?” Every f**king day. “Was it your money that bought those Louboutin’s… or Braden’s?” Ellie choked on her laughter, smothering the sound quickly in a gulp of her drink. I patted her on the back, aiding her in her pretense. When I looked back at Holly she was glaring at me, her face flushed red to her hairline. Point made. Question deflected. Spoiled bitch put in her place. “So people can get married at Stirling Castle, huh?” I turned back to Jenna and our earlier conversation. “I’ve only visited it once, but it’s a beautiful venue…
Samantha Young (On Dublin Street (On Dublin Street, #1))
It took only three years for Jonathan Papelbon to surpass Bill Campbell, Lee Smith, Tom Gordon, Sparky Lyle, Derek Lowe, Jeff Reardon, Ellis Kinder, and Dick Radatz as he climbed the franchise leader board into second place all-time for saves. Papelbon closed out 2008 with 113 career saves—and on July 1, 2009, with his 20th save of the season he surpassed Bob Stanley to become the all-time franchise leader in saves.
Tucker Elliot (Boston Red Sox: An Interactive Guide to the World of Sports)
it's going great. Two months in, and I've created three apps." "Apps?" "For people who buy my book as an e-book --which will be everybody. The first is called Don't Look. It's for the overly sensitive. It blurs and turns the type red when a dog dies or a baby is born with a birth defect. Stuff like that. My second is It's Not Okay When You Say It, and it delivers an electrical zap if the reader laughs at a racial slur. My third is Jesus Thesaurus, which replaces explicit sexual language with church words. So, when one of my characters 'saints' a guy's 'disciple', He'll beg her to 'cavalry' his 'Baptists' and 'shout amen'.
Helen Ellis (American Housewife)
I molded my body in clay on the potter’s wheel. I carved my own heart out of carnelian and gave to my family my red, red love.
Normandi Ellis (Awakening Osiris: A New Translation of the Egyptian Book of the Dead)
Above one of the doors covered by red velvet drapes in Harry's is a sign and on the sign in letters that match the drapes' color are the words THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.
Bret Easton Ellis (American Psycho)
Damn Lyric, it isn't torture. It's travel. Get some sleep." - Sabine
J.W. Ellis (Born to Die (Blood Red Bells Saga, #1))
Abandon all hope ye who enter here is scrawled in blood red lettering on the side of the Chemical Bank
Bret Easton Ellis (American Psycho)
no other man smells of sex, sin, and sweetness like Sutton Ellis — red-blooded, clean, aroused man, and I’m light-headed from the aroma. He tastes of salt, sweat, soap, and scandal; a luscious mix for which I hunger. His neck, muscles bulging with tension, jawline, slight stubble abrading my tongue, hands, those big, capable hands, flexing in and out on my hips… he’s perfection.
S.E. Hall (Exclusive (Princess Presley Duet, #2; Full Circle, #3))
And thank you, reader, for picking up this book. For following Ellie into this world. For feeling so deeply like Benno. For fighting alongside Kai. For believing in the goodness of people like Mitzi. Be brave. Be a sponge. And remember, you too are making history each day. Let’s make a history that lifts up all people, erases no one, and leaves behind nothing but hateful ideology.
Katherine Locke (The Girl with the Red Balloon (The Balloonmakers, #1))
We're at a dinner party in an apartment on Rue Paul Valéry between Avenue Foch and Avenue Victor Hugo and it's all rather subdued since a small percentage of the invited guests were blown up in the Ritz yesterday. For comfort people went shopping, which is understandable even if they bought things a little too enthusiastically. Tonight it's just wildflowers and white lilies, just W's Paris bureau chief, Donna Karan, Aerin Lauder, Ines de la Fressange and Christian Louboutin, who thinks I snubbed him and maybe I did but maybe I'm past the point of caring. Just Annette Bening and Michael Stipe in a tomato-red wig. Just Tammy on heroin, serene and glassy-eyed, her lips swollen from collagen injections, beeswax balm spread over her mouth, gliding through the party, stopping to listen to Kate Winslet, to Jean Reno, to Polly Walker, to Jacques Grange. Just the smell of shit, floating, its fumes spreading everywhere. Just another conversation with a chic sadist obsessed with origami. Just another armless man waving a stump and whispering excitedly, "Natasha's coming!" Just people tan and back from the Ariel Sands Beach Club in Bermuda, some of them looking reskinned. Just me, making connections based on fear, experiencing vertigo, drinking a Woo-Woo.
Bret Easton Ellis
The door opened and the seven of them came out of the conference room. Alexander walked out last. He saw Tatiana struggle up from her chair, but she couldn’t stand without holding on to it, and she looked so alone and forsaken, he was afraid that she would break down in front of half a dozen strangers. Yet he wanted to say something to her, something to comfort her, and so slightly nodding his head, he said, “We are going home.” She inhaled, and her hand covered her mouth. And then because she was Tatiana and because she couldn’t help herself, and because he wouldn’t have it any other way, she ran to him and was in his arms, generals or no generals. She flung her arms around him, she embraced him, her wet face was in his neck. His head was bent to her, and her feet were off the ground.   Though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are— Unyielding. Barrington, Leningrad, Luga, Ladoga, Lazarevo, Ellis Island, the mountains of Holy Cross, their lost families, their lost mothers and fathers, their brothers in arms and brothers are etched on their souls and their fine faces and like the mercurial moon, like Jupiter over Maui, like the Perseus galaxy with its blue, imploding stars they remain, as the stellar wind whispers over the rivers all run red, over the oceans and the seas, murmuring through the moonsilver skies… Tatiana… Alexander… But the bronze horseman is still.
Paullina Simons (Tatiana and Alexander (The Bronze Horseman, #2))
This is a worrying recipe. Young bears (cubs will need about two and a half hours of cooking) might well still be attended by their mothers, who are notoriously irritable when anything threatens their offspring. Choose, rather, an old friendless bear and double the cooking time.
Alice Thomas Ellis (Fish, Flesh And Good Red Herring)
When I was nine, in the city now called Kyoto, I changed my fate. I walked into the shrine through the red arch and struck the bell. I bowed twice. I clapped twice. I whispered to the foreign goddess and bowed again. And then I heard the shouts and the fire. What I asked for? Any life but this one.
Ellis Avery (The Teahouse Fire)
The Mercy The ship that took my mother to Ellis Island eighty-three years ago was named "The Mercy." She remembers trying to eat a banana without first peeling it and seeing her first orange in the hands of a young Scot, a seaman who gave her a bite and wiped her mouth for her with a red bandana and taught her the word, "orange," saying it patiently over and over. A long autumn voyage, the days darkening with the black waters calming as night came on, then nothing as far as her eyes could see and space without limit rushing off to the corners of creation. She prayed in Russian and Yiddish to find her family in New York, prayers unheard or misunderstood or perhaps ignored by all the powers that swept the waves of darkness before she woke, that kept "The Mercy" afloat while smallpox raged among the passengers and crew until the dead were buried at sea with strange prayers in a tongue she could not fathom. "The Mercy," I read on the yellowing pages of a book I located in a windowless room of the library on 42nd Street, sat thirty-one days offshore in quarantine before the passengers disembarked. There a story ends. Other ships arrived, "Tancred" out of Glasgow, "The Neptune" registered as Danish, "Umberto IV," the list goes on for pages, November gives way to winter, the sea pounds this alien shore. Italian miners from Piemonte dig under towns in western Pennsylvania only to rediscover the same nightmare they left at home. A nine-year-old girl travels all night by train with one suitcase and an orange. She learns that mercy is something you can eat again and again while the juice spills over your chin, you can wipe it away with the back of your hands and you can never get enough.
Philip Levine (The Mercy)
He was a handsome, lusty, good-natured soul, who seemed to have blundered into this enclosed life by some incomprehensible error, and not yet to have realised that he had come to the wrong place. Brother Cadfael detected a lively sense of mischief the fellow to his own, but never yet given its head in a wider world, and confidently expected that some day this particular red-crested bird would certainly fly. Meantime, he got his entertainment wherever it offered, and found it sometimes in unexpected places.
Ellis Peters (A Morbid Taste for Bones (Chronicles of Brother Cadfael #1))
She could almost feel the wave of energy coming off of him as he moved with the wheel and thought if Jake wanted to photograph blatant sex, all he had to do was turn to his right and snap a few of Aaron. Neither one was paying the slightest bit of attention to the other, but Alyson was certain she could see a strand of nearly invisible light connecting them. She stared at them and thought that if she had a pair of those giant novelty scissors they used to cut red ribbons at the openings of new businesses, she could walk over and sever that connection with one snap of her shears and Jake and Aaron would crash to the floor like puppets shorn of their strings. Ellis, Giselle 2010-02-23. Take My Picture (Kindle Locations 638-643). Dreamspinner Press. Kindle Edition.
Giselle Ellis
It's almost like he's trying to protect me. He hasn't done this since fifth grade, when the most popular, richest, and prettiest girl (seriously, where is the justice in the world?) in the year below us, Minami Vu, made fun of my overalls. "Those are so last year," she'd sneered, with her perfect button nose pointing up in the air. Her mother is a venture capitalist, and Minami always wears the latest styles before they even started trending on Instagram. I'd been proud of my green corduroy overalls. Hell, I didn't even know overalls had a year. But Jack loudly commented, "I like overalls. They look good on you, Ellie." Then he'd shifted in front of me, facing the girl, and she flushed all red. The following week, she wore the exact same green corduroy overalls to school. For some reason, he never complimented her on them.
Julie Abe (The Charmed List)
The pressure is on. They've teased me all week, because I've avoided anything that requires ordering. I've made excuses (I'm allergic to beef," "Nothing tastes better than bread," Ravioli is overrated"), but I can't avoid it forever.Monsieur Boutin is working the counter again. I grab a tray and take a deep breath. "Bonjour, uh...soup? Sopa? S'il vous plait?" "Hello" and "please." I've learned the polite words first, in hopes that the French will forgive me for butchering the remainder of their beautiful language. I point to the vat of orangey-red soup. Butternut squash, I think. The smell is extraordinary, like sage and autumn. It's early September, and the weather is still warm. When does fall come to Paris? "Ah! soupe.I mean,oui. Oui!" My cheeks burn. "And,um, the uh-chicken-salad-green-bean thingy?" Monsieur Boutin laughs. It's a jolly, bowl-full-of-jelly, Santa Claus laugh. "Chicken and haricots verts, oui. You know,you may speek Ingleesh to me. I understand eet vairy well." My blush deepends. Of course he'd speak English in an American school. And I've been living on stupid pears and baquettes for five days. He hands me a bowl of soup and a small plate of chicken salad, and my stomach rumbles at the sight of hot food. "Merci," I say. "De rien.You're welcome. And I 'ope you don't skeep meals to avoid me anymore!" He places his hand on his chest, as if brokenhearted. I smile and shake my head no. I can do this. I can do this. I can- "NOW THAT WASN'T SO TERRIBLE, WAS IT, ANNA?" St. Clair hollers from the other side of the cafeteria. I spin around and give him the finger down low, hoping Monsieur Boutin can't see. St. Clair responds by grinning and giving me the British version, the V-sign with his first two fingers. Monsieur Boutin tuts behind me with good nature. I pay for my meal and take the seat next to St. Clair. "Thanks. I forgot how to flip off the English. I'll use the correct hand gesture next time." "My pleasure. Always happy to educate." He's wearing the same clothing as yesterday, jeans and a ratty T-shirt with Napolean's silhouette on it.When I asked him about it,he said Napolean was his hero. "Not because he was a decent bloke, mind you.He was an arse. But he was a short arse,like meself." I wonder if he slept at Ellie's. That's probably why he hasn't changed his clothes. He rides the metro to her college every night, and they hang out there. Rashmi and Mer have been worked up, like maybe Ellie thinks she's too good for them now. "You know,Anna," Rashmi says, "most Parisians understand English. You don't have to be so shy." Yeah.Thanks for pointing that out now.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
Okay, so I shouldn't have fucked with her on the introduction thing. Writing nothing except, Saturday night. You and me. Driving lessons and hot sex ... in her notebook probably wasn't the smartest move. But I was itching to make Little Miss Perfecta stumble in her introduction of me. And stumbling she is. "Miss Ellis?" I watch in amusement as Perfection herself looks up at Peterson. Oh, she's good. This partner of mine knows how to hide her true emotions, something I recognize because I do it all the time. "Yes?" Brittany says, tilting her head and smiling like a beauty queen. I wonder if that smile has ever gotten her out of a speeding ticket. "It's your turn. Introduce Alex to the class." I lean an elbow on the lab table, waiting for an introduction she has to either make up or fess up she knows less than crap about me. She glances at my comfortable position and I can tell from her deer-in-the-headlights look I've stumped her. "This is Alejandro Fuentes," she starts, her voice hitching the slightest bit. My temper flares at the mention of my given name, but I keep a cool facade as she continues with a made-up introduction. "When he wasn't hanging out on street corners and harassing innocent people this summer, he toured the inside of jails around the city, if you know what I mean. And he has a secret desire nobody would ever guess." The room suddenly becomes quiet. Even Peterson straightens to attention. Hell, even I'm listening like the words coming out of Brittany's lying, pink-frosted lips are gospel. "His secret desire," she continues, "is to go to college and become a chemistry teacher, like you, Mrs. Peterson." Yeah, right. I look over at my friend Isa, who seems amused that a white girl isn't afraid of giving me smack in front of the entire class. Brittany flashes me a triumphant smile, thinking she's won this round. Guess again, gringa. I sit up in my chair while the class remains silent. "This is Brittany Ellis," I say, all eyes now focused on me. "This summer she went to the mall, bought new clothes so she could expand her wardrobe, and spent her daddy's money on plastic surgery to enhance her, ahem, assets." It might not be what she wrote, but it's probably close enough to the truth. Unlike her introduction of me. Chuckles come from mis cuates in the back of the class, and Brittany is as stiff as a board beside me, as if my words hurt her precious ego. Brittany Ellis is used to people fawning all over her and she could use a little wake-up call. I'm actually doing her a favor. Little does she know I'm not finished with her intro. "Her secret desire," I add, getting the same reaction as she did during her introduction, "is to date a Mexicano before she graduates." As expected, my words are met by comments and low whistles from the back of the room. "Way to go, Fuentes," my friend Lucky barks out. "I'll date you, mamacita, " another says. I give a high five to another Latino Blood named Marcus sitting behind me just as I catch Isa shaking her head as if I did something wrong. What? I'm just having a little fun with a rich girl from the north side. Brittany's gaze shifts from Colin to me. I take one look at Colin and with my eyes tell him game on. Colin's face instantly turns bright red, resembling a chile pepper. I have definitely invaded his territory.
Simone Elkeles (Perfect Chemistry (Perfect Chemistry, #1))
The evening was a string of miserable minutes strung together in tiny clusters. Three minutes for a man shot through the shoulder; Ellis put first a finger in the entry wound and then another in the exit and when his fingers touched, he decided the man was only lightly injured and didn’t need a surgeon. Three minutes to set a broken wrist and splint it with a strip of cowhide and a piece of wood from a sycamore tree. Two minutes to tourniquet a leg, then extract a piece of wire deep in the meat of it. A minute to peek under a pink, saturated bandage several inches below a slender belly button; he saw thin, red water leaking from a hole and smelled urine, knew the ball had breached the bladder. It would either heal or it wouldn’t, but nothing to do about it so he set the soul aside, a case not to be operated upon. He turned a man’s head looking for the source of a trickle of blood and had ten terrible minutes trying to stop torrential bleeding from under his clavicle; frantic moments during which he could get neither a finger nor a clamp around the pulsating source. All bleeding stops eventually though, and the case did not violate the rule. He took two minutes to settle his own breathing, then four minutes sewing a torn scalp, and half a minute saying a prayer over a fat, cigar-shaped dead man. After awhile, he had the impression he wasn’t seeing men, but parts—an exploded chest, a blood swolled thigh, a busted jaw with its teeth spat to the wind or swallowed. It was more than a man could take and a lot less than there was to be seen.
Edison McDaniels (Not One Among Them Whole: A Novel of Gettysburg)
The front door is locked—what’s up with that?” “Logan fixed the lock,” I tell her. Her bright red, heart-shaped mouth smiles. “Good job, Kevin Costner. You should staple the key to Ellie’s forehead, though, or she’ll lose it.” She has names for the other guys too and when her favorite guard, Tommy Sullivan, walks in a few minutes later, Marlow uses his. “Hello, Delicious.” She twirls her honey-colored, bouncy hair around her finger, cocking her hip and tilting her head like a vintage pinup girl. Tommy, the fun-loving super-flirt, winks. “Hello, pretty, underage lass.” Then he nods to Logan and smiles at me. “Lo . . . Good morning, Miss Ellie.” “Hey, Tommy.” Marlow struts forward. “Three months, Tommy. Three months until I’m a legal adult—then I’m going to use you, abuse you and throw you away.” The dark-haired devil grins. “That’s my idea of a good date.” Then he gestures toward the back door. “Now, are we ready for a fun day of learning?” One of the security guys has been walking me to school ever since the public and press lost their minds over Nicholas and Olivia’s still-technically-unconfirmed relationship. They make sure no one messes with me and they drive me in the tinted, bulletproof SUV when it rains—it’s a pretty sweet deal. I grab my ten-thousand-pound messenger bag from the corner. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. Elle—you should have a huge banger here tonight!” says Marlow. Tommy and Logan couldn’t have synced up better if they’d practiced: “No fucking way.” Marlow holds up her hands, palms out. “Did I say banger?” “Huge banger,” Tommy corrects. “No—no fucking way. I meant, we should have a few friends over to . . . hang out. Very few. Very mature. Like . . . almost a study group.” I toy with my necklace and say, “That actually sounds like a good idea.” Throwing a party when your parents are away is a rite-of-high-school passage. And after this summer, Liv will most likely never be away again. It’s now or never. “It’s a terrible idea.” Logan scowls. He looks kinda scary when he scowls. But still hot. Possibly, hotter. Marlow steps forward, her brass balls hanging out and proud. “You can’t stop her—that’s not your job. It’s like when the Bush twins got busted in that bar with fake IDs or Malia was snapped smoking pot at Coachella. Secret Service couldn’t stop them; they just had to make sure they didn’t get killed.” Tommy slips his hands in his pockets, laid back even when he’s being a hardass. “We could call her sister. Even from an ocean away, I’d bet she’d stop her.” “No!” I jump a little. “No, don’t bother Liv. I don’t want her worrying.” “We could board up the fucking doors and windows,” Logan suggests. ’Cause that’s not overkill or anything. I move in front of the two security guards and plead my case. “I get why you’re concerned, okay? But I have this thing—it’s like my motto. I want to suck the lemon.” Tommy’s eyes bulge. “Suck what?” I laugh, shaking my head. Boys are stupid. “You know that saying, ‘When life gives you lemons, make lemonade’?—well, I want to suck the lemon dry.” Neither of them seems particularly impressed. “I want to live every bit of life, experience everything it has to offer, good and bad.” I lift my jeans to show my ankle—and the little lemon I’ve drawn there. “See? When I’m eighteen, I’m going to get this tattooed on for real. As a reminder to live as much and as hard and as awesome as I can—to not take anything for granted. And having my friends over tonight is part of that.” I look back and forth between them. Tommy’s weakening—I can feel it. Logan’s still a brick wall. “It’ll be small. And quiet—I swear. Totally controlled. And besides, you guys will be here with me. What could go wrong?” Everything. Everything goes fucking wrong.
Emma Chase (Royally Endowed (Royally, #3))
Dilly Onion Rings This is Ellie Kuehn’s recipe. She tried serving it on a sausage pizza out at Bertanelli’s and it was really good!   One large mild or sweet onion (a red onion is nice—more colorful) 1/3 cup white (granulated) sugar 2 teaspoons salt 1 teaspoon fresh baby dill (it’s not as good with dried dill weed) ½ cup white vinegar ¼ cup water   4 large ripe tomatoes as an accompaniment (optional)   Cut the onion in thin slices. Separate the slices into rings and put them in a bowl. Combine the sugar, salt, dill, white vinegar, and water. Pour the liquid over the onion rings. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 5 hours, stirring every hour or so. Serving suggestions: Slice large ripe tomatoes and arrange on a platter. Lift the onion rings out of the brine and sprinkle them on top of the tomato slices. Garnish with fresh, chopped
Joanne Fluke (Joanne Fluke Christmas Bundle: Sugar Cookie Murder, Candy Cane Murder, Plum Pudding Murder, & Gingerbread Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen))
Ellie hated driving, particularly in cities. She had a habit of taking every other driver's unsignaled lane change or blown red light personally, which meant she herself wound up driving in a perpetual state of amazed fury, incredulous that these people would so casually put her life at risk. It was maliciously negligent in a way that made her feel as if it wouldn't be so unreasonable to force them off the road, march them to the guardrail, and shoot them in the head.
Anonymous
Avalon is full of desperate people.’ She bites at her lower lip this time, fumbling her hands, knitting her fingers into the bundle of plastic coin bags in her grasp. ‘Are you implying that I’m desperate?’ I say, one eyebrow tilting. ‘You don’t need to be desperate… you can have anyone... I…’ she trails off. Looking up and trying to search the line of shops for the bank. I repulse her, I make her want to run. Why is this so hard? I need to get inside of her, I need to know what she is thinking, what she is wanting. It surely isn’t me she wants. Not to the extent that I… want her. ‘You?’ I entice her to finish her sentence but she doesn’t, she stares off into the bustling crowds, memory flashing her eyes with a darkness. ‘Madi wouldn’t fumble like this.’ Oh, she would fumble, but not in the way you are, Elli. ‘You’re not her, Elli.’ I entice her again, trying to force the dark memory, the sadness from her. ‘No, if I was, you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else.’ A breath hitches in her throat, she puts a hand over her mouth and says something else, her cheeks dance a shade of red that brightens and brightens until she apologises and quickens her pace. I chuckle, pulling at her arm and encircling one around her waist, pulling her back to me. Beneath my touch, her body trembles. When I raise my hand, my palm touching her cheek, I am sure she isn’t breathing. ‘I don’t want anyone, Elli.’ My eyes burn, consuming her with my gaze. She is like a frightful deer, struggling beneath me with a gaze that cannot quite meet mine. When she does, it is only for a brief second before falling down and all I see is the gentle flutter of her raven flashes. ‘I told you. I want someone I cannot have.’ ‘That is a really harsh way of telling someone you’re not interested.
Charlotte Munro (Grey October (East Hollow Chronicles))
Insolence was spreading like butter across his red and pitted face.
Esme Ellis (This Strange and Precious Thing)
1919, race riots broke out in Chicago and a dock workers’ strike hit New York; the eight-hour workday was instituted nationally; President Woodrow Wilson won the Nobel Peace Prize and presided over the first meeting of the League of Nations in Paris; the Red Army took Omsk, Kharkov, and the Crimea; Mussolini founded the Italian fascist movement; Paderewski became Premier of Poland. Henri Bergson, Karl Barth, Ernst Cassirer, Havelock Ellis, Karl Jaspers, John Maynard Keynes, Rudolf Steiner—indelible figures—were all active in their various spheres. Short-wave radio made its earliest appearance, there was progress in sound for movies, and Einstein’s theory of relativity was borne out by astrophysical experiments. Walter
Cynthia Ozick (Fame & Folly: Essays (PEN Literary Award Winner))
thought he saw a brief glance down at Ellie. Everyone else took their wine glasses in hand, and murmured a second to Randall’s toast before taking a sip. David saw that Ellie hesitated before taking a sip. “I’m not usually a fan of red wine,” she whispered to him. “Linda, this is an excellent wine,” she said a bit too loud across the table to her friend. David wondered what had happened to her in her life that made her worry so much about outward appearances. He thought that the small digs that had been taken at her expense in the library may be weighing on her, and it surprised him to feel a twitch of anger. Ellie seemed so strong at times, but so frail at others. “Thank you, but I can’t take credit. Randall picked it out,” Linda said as she raised her own glass. “Of course he did,” Melanie Wilson uttered in a low undertone. “What, dear?” Linda glanced down the table at Melanie. “Nothing, nothing, Linda. I was also complimenting Randall on his fine wine selection,” Melanie said into her wine glass. From what David could tell from his short acquaintance with Melanie Wilson, it seemed almost impossible for her to keep a rein on her tongue. He saw a look on her husband’s face that
Cege Smith (Edge of Shadows)
We pulled into the parking lot of the bar, which looked like a repurposed Pizza Hut, with brick walls and a flaking red roof. A few motorcycles sat outside, along with more than one dingy pick-up truck decorated with the Confederate flag. The bar looked like a place where meth-addicted rats went to die.
J.L. Bryan (Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper (Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper, #1))
It hit her that she was in a secret area that no one knew about, trapped with a strange boy who thought she was the Maravish princess, and she felt hot red panic begin to prickle her skin. She had to run. She tried to turn around, but he grabbed her arm. “I said wait,” he commanded, pulling her back. “Let go of me!” she screamed. She swiped at him with her free hand, but he caught it effortlessly. “Lottie—” “I will call the police,” she continued, trying to pull away from him, but she seemed to only be mildly annoying him. How is he so strong? “Lottie, please, just listen for a—” “LET GO OF ME!” She gave one final tug with all her energy and stamped down on his foot. He tried to pull his leg back but a strange static sensation shook him and the two tumbled quite ungracefully into the mud. “Eek!” Lottie fell flat on her back, immediately thinking of her poor ruined uniform and hair. She had to remind herself that these were the least of her concerns right now and that she needed to deal with the boy on top of her. She was ready to scream when a pendant around his neck fell against her chest; there was a familiar crest on it with an engraved wolf symbol. The Wolfson family crest, the same one Ellie wore.
Connie Glynn (The Rosewood Chronicles #1: Undercover Princess)
. I hate every single one of you. Jewish. I never thought of myself as Jewish before all of you suddenly started pointing it out. I was a German, just like you. What made me so distinctive from you all of a sudden? The red J in my papers? The armband? Because if I had taken it off, I could have easily passed for one of your highly praised BDM girls. You’d never know the difference once you saw me next to them. You never knew the difference before, and now all of a sudden we’re Jewish
Ellie Midwood (Emilia: The Darkest Days in History of Nazi Germany Through a Woman's Eyes (Women and the Holocaust, #1))
I’m a human being, just like you are, and my heart is on the same side as yours, and my blood is also red, and it hurts me to hear that we are vermin, just as much as it would hurt you if someone told you the same thing.
Ellie Midwood (Emilia: The Darkest Days in History of Nazi Germany Through a Woman's Eyes (Women and the Holocaust, #1))
I hate the dreadful hollow behind the little wood, Its lips in the field above are dabbled with blood-red heath, The red-ribb’d ledges drip with a silent horror of blood, And Echo there, whatever is ask’d her, answers ‘Death.’ –Alfred Tennyson, Maud
Elly Griffiths (The Ghost Fields (Ruth Galloway, #7))
Of Brother John he knew no particular evil, but the redness of his hair, the exuberance of his health and high spirits, the very way he put live blood back into old martyrdoms with his extravagant gusto in the reading, were all offensive in themselves, and jarred on the prior’s aesthetic sensibilities.
Ellis Peters (A Morbid Taste for Bones (Chronicles of Brother Cadfael #1))
Cool. I haven’t been in a church in years!” “No kidding? I’d never have guessed. Well, people will have certain expectations…” “Okay, no swearing. I’ll be totally polite. And I’ll leave my pasties and G-string at home.” Noah went completely red and she burst out laughing. “I don’t have pasties and G-strings. That club? It wasn’t that bad.” “Just out of curiosity, what was your part?” he asked. “Well,” she said, rolling her eyes upward. “That’s the interesting thing—sometimes a certain costume or look does more for the guys than being totally naked. The two most popular outfits were the cheerleading costume and the candy striper’s costume. The men—they really go for pom-poms.” Ellie looked at Noah. “Hey—are you all right?” “Fine. I’m fine,” Noah said weakly. He’d been in his share of strip clubs, but not for a while. And he hadn’t had much female companionship lately, either. Until today, he hadn’t realized how much he missed that.
Robyn Carr (Forbidden Falls)
now ringing the superintendent at the field command post, and praying that she was in time. * * * Heart beating like a jack hammer, Nikki eased her way along the rough red-brick wall of the old dental block. Ahead of her, and moving fast, but with a light-footed, almost delicate precision, were Joseph, Dave, Vinnie and the two marksmen. Nikki knew that her solo performance was not only hazardous, it was critical to saving Snipe’s hostages. Even so, she’d never felt so well protected. If anyone could defuse the situation safely, she believed that it was Joseph. As she watched, they disappeared beneath the heavy plastic. She saw in her mind’s eye the turning of the key that they had obtained
Joy Ellis (Hunted on the Fens (DI Nikki Galena, #3))
A girl like a squirrel! As swift, as sudden, as black and as red!
Ellis Peters (A Morbid Taste for Bones)
I glanced at Marcus’s grave, and my gaze wandered to the blood-red rose. It wasn’t blood-red, or beautiful anymore. Mud and murk had spoiled its fragile beauty and mutilated it into a miserable gray object, disfigured beyond recognition, tarnished, and misshapen, soon to be devoured by the murky ground that surrounded it. It was no longer a symbol of hope and innocence. It was an omen; a harbinger of death and destruction. And I was truly terrified of it.
Ellie Fox (And then the Devil Cried: Episode One)
There on the bed where Reggie had been lying were Ellie’s cursed red drawers.
Sally MacKenzie (Bedding Lord Ned)
Cú Chulainn, the greatest of the champions of Conchobhar Mac Nessa, King of Ulaidh, sat with other members of the Craobh Ríoga, the warriors of the Royal Branch, bodyguards to the king. It should be explained that the Craobh Ríoga, because of the tired eyesight of an ancient scribe, was mis-transcribed long ago as the Craobh Ruadha, or Red Branch warriors. We, however, shall forgive the scribe’s mistake and return those ancient warriors to their real appellation
Peter Berresford Ellis (The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (Mammoth Books 196))
The scenery is the only good thing I can say about the bus ride,” Ally answers. “I can’t wait until we get to the inn.” Running her fingers through her short, unruly red hair, she stretches dramatically before flattening the wrinkles in her shirt. The spunky pre-teen stands a couple inches shorter than Sam. The freckles that run across the bridge of her nose, combined with her blue eyes, give away her Irish heritage.
Tara Ellis (The Mystery of Hollow Inn (Samantha Wolf Mystery #1))
Hah! I think you’ve overestimated your abilities, kid,” Scorch shouted, the acoustics sending her words into the crowd, who laughed. “A weak attack won’t even touch my Doomy.” Scorch played it up for the crowd and for the chancellor. She waved a hand and the mushrooms on Doomshroom’s back launched off like missiles, flying in an arc toward Wooly. “Weak attack?” Ellie chided as she had Wooly defend against the attack. Her crest lit up as each of the mushroom missiles landed, absorbing the fired damage. “Like that one?” The crowd went crazy as the sheep took the attack like a champ, flashing red, but showing no outward appearance of being hurt. Ellie pointed like a crossbow at Doomshroom, and pulled a pretend trigger, a block of water appearing right on the Mooshroom’s head.
Pixel Ate (Hatchamob: Book 3)
I read quickly, flitting and sipping, skipping the boring bits and seizing on the oddities and inconsistencies which are often ignored by the scholars since they interfere with the measured and coherent approach to the matter at hand.
Alice Thomas Ellis (Fish, Flesh And Good Red Herring)
Slowly, both the vaguely ironic and the deeply sincere among them came to see how seriously the Red Cross and the army took this service. And they started to take it seriously, too. They didn’t feel like cooks, didn’t feel like waitresses. Ellie said they were ass-kicking bitches, and they knew that they were. Though Irene said: “I was thinking of Amazons.” Ellie and Dorothy stared at her—she made a soft little muscle—and laughed.
Luis Alberto Urrea (Good Night, Irene)
We know that Stonehenge marked a shift in the Neolithic psyche from solar to lunar allegiance . . .’ What does this mean? No one has any idea what Neolithic people thought of the sun or the moon. We can theorise that monuments like Stonehenge had some sort of astronomical significance but we can’t know. Ruth resists the temptation to put a red line through the sentence. Instead she just writes in the margin, ‘Really?
Elly Griffiths (The Lantern Men)
Your Welsh eyes, brother, are only just regaining their proper vision. There are few nights here that a man could not travel safely even among the upland bogs, knowing the ground at all well. Only in the woods is it ever truly dark. I talked with a wandering brother from the north once, a rough red-haired man with a tongue I could barely understand, a Scot. He said in his far country there were nights when the sun barely set before it rose again on the other side, and you could see your way in an endless afterglow. But I do not know,” said Brother Simon wistfully, “if he was romancing. I have never been further than Chester.” Brother Cadfael forbore from citing his own travels, remembered now with the astonished contentment of a man at rest. To tell the truth, he had enjoyed the storms no less than he now enjoyed the calm, if this was indeed calm: but each had its own time and place.
Ellis Peters (Monk's Hood (Chronicles of Brother Cadfael, #3))
of air. His face was beet red, the smug expression he’d had when he walked into the
Mary Stone (Cold Grave (Ellie Kline #5))
Copper yipped once, and suddenly the blue hatchamarks that graced his body disappeared, leaving him to shine in all of his legendary glory. The normal white fur on a fox showed up as the dark brown of deep earth, his typically orange fur the bright red of hot flames, his paws the color of a starry night and his eyes, one green and one blue shone with happiness. Wei-Vi pointed, his jaw dropping. “W... what... what is that?” “This,” Ellie said. “Is a legendary hatchamob.
Pixel Ate (Hatchamob: Book 6)
In the most basic sense, meaning means relationships. There is fact, and there is the relationship of that fact to other facts, and that relationship is meaning. A fact has no meaning in isolation. The color red has no meaning in itself. It only has meaning in its relationship with blue or green or yellow. In the same way, you have no meaning in yourself but only in your relationship with your environment and other people.
Ellis Potter (3 Theories of Everything)
African Peanut Stew • MAKES 6 SERVINGS • THIS DEEPLY FLAVORFUL STEW, BRIMMING with a rainbow of hearty vegetables—sweet potato, eggplant, red peppers, tomatoes, and collard greens—is made rich, creamy, and totally irresistible with a generous scoop of peanut butter melted into the mix. The crunch of peanuts on top echoes the flavor in the stew and add a delightfully crunchy contrast.
Ellie Krieger (You Have It Made: Delicious, Healthy, Do-Ahead Meals)
It really was too early in the day to deal with all of that energy. She didn't dislike Stella Darling. More than anything Ellie felt a twitch of pity for her. At just under five feet, Stella could barely contain herself within her clothes. Ellie wasn't sure if they were too small for her, or if she just happened to own one of those unlucky bodies nothing seemed to fit right. Her hair was an unnatural red that flew out in every direction and she wore too much makeup. At the paper, Stella's specialty was weather and farm reports. She also knew a fair bit about natural remedies for everyday problems. She always had great tips for things like curing earaches with a hair dryer and various surefire stain removal techniques. Truth be told, Ellie often felt like she had more in common with Stella than she did anyone else. She recognized the invisibility magic wrapped around Stella's uncontrollable curves. But unlike Ellie, Stella fought it with everything she had. She tried too hard, and although she was not invisible physically the way Ellie could be, she slipped the minds of those around her. She invited herself loudly, brazenly to be included. It was that brazen energy that Ellie wasn't always keen to deal with at nine in the morning.
Amy S. Foster (When Autumn Leaves)