Foul Lady Fortune Quotes

Nation over everything. But not you, sweetheart. Never your life in exchange

Don’t”—he swung again—“touch”—another hard thwack—“my”—the crate broke into two pieces—“wife.

You can't ask me not to love you by keeping me at arm's length. I'll love you anyway.

This is not a game to me,” Orion cut in. “I would rather die by your hand than have you believe me a traitor. I would rather take a fast bullet than have us pitted on different sides of an agonizing battle.

She only wanted to be a girl who was deserving of the world.

Lady Fortune, you play foul.

You cannot save the world. You can try to save one thing if you must, but it is enough if that one thing is yourself.

Broken things called to broken things, tried to slot their shards together in the hopes that they would fit.

Trauma doesn't have to lead to destruction. Trauma can be the guiding point to something better, something stronger

I’ve seen what love does. It’s powerful. It’s selfish. It will draw us away from the battlefield, and we can’t allow that.

Even if the memories never come back," he said slowly, "I'm going to love you again. I have decided to warn you in advance.

You wanted daffodils at your wedding, and suddenly I wanted to be the one beside you at the altar watching you hold them. I wanted it to be real. I wanted it all to be real.

ORION!” Rosalind screamed. “I AM DOING MY BEST, BELOVED.” “YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE ME A HERNIA.

Orion breathed out. “There is no trick,” he said. “I allow this because I love you.

Do that again,” he said. She looked at the sink. “Wash the razor?” “No, beloved. Your laugh.

Attached to High Tide?” she echoed, her voice teasing. “Have you grown attached to me, Hong Liwen?” “Yes.” His reply came easily. It didn’t sound like he was teasing her in return. “I have.

What is family for if not to love us and then break our hearts?

You are bound to me in matrimony. If you break it and descend into another plane of existence, I will chase after you and snatch you back.

Of course I was committed to her beyond what was acceptable for the mission. I was so fascinated because I could see the parts of you in her. I've loved you this whole time, just split in two.

A city reborn is a city traumatized. It remembers its past, every second that it took to get to this point. It sees the former version of itself and knows that it has changed, its boots no longer fitting, its hats no longer comfortable. The streets trace how they used to sprawl. No matter how it is paved over and reorganized, memories and echoes do not fade away that easily.

Who did this to you?” Orion’s voice was violently quiet. “I’ll kill them.

You’ll spend your whole life trying, and you’ll still fail. There is a reason why duì bù qǐ is duì bù qǐ. We’re only human. We will never match up to what everything could be.

Do you think of me as some all-controlling harpy wife?

You were my first hope that there might be something else...A third category of memory. A future separate from the past. I have spent years thinking that if I just do the right thing, then I can go back to how it used to be. But maybe I don't want that anymore.

Maybe we don’t have to be like this forever, wielded around as national tools. Maybe we can just be people.

You’re okay,” Rosalind repeated more kindly. “You’re going to be okay, I promise.” She smoothed his hair away from his forehead. As soon as he felt her touch, Orion shifted forward, leaning right onto her shoulder.

You are my side. It is not betrayal.

Your life is mine as mine is yours,” she said, very seriously. “We are bound in duty if not in matrimony. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

I would have found you anywhere.” He reached forward. Tugged that piece of her hair, then tucked the curl behind her ear. “Across the world and under it. No matter how well you hide. It doesn’t matter where you go. I’ll always find you. Understand?

If Rosalind hadn’t left, she would have become another one of the odd items, forgotten amid the mess and clutter in that room.

It’s not a crime to be born into privilege, what matters is using it instead of closing your eyes to it.

No need for such force in the household!' Alisa continued from the living room, her tone upbeat. 'Take deep breaths! Remember, I love you all!

Lie first; figure out the rest later.

It’s okay that you’re grumpy. I think it’s very cute—

Jealousy is a good look on you.

Orion couldn't stop looking at her. Those determined eyes and the set of her brow. Artists would scramble to paint a face like that onto their war posters. Render her expression in vivid enough lines, and the sight alone could lead the world into battle.

Why blind someone who is in the dark?" Rosalind said quietly. "On the chance that they might take to the light instead." Alisa retorted.

Isn't it strange how we say sorry in Chinese? In every other language it's some version of "pardon" or distress. But 'duì bù qǐ...' We're saying we don't match up.

can help you get him back. Find me in Zhouzhuang. —JM.

If I am to do some good, then I must make peace with my own limits. I would lose perspective otherwise.

I will love you if I please. I will make you my altar, I’ll put you above everything else in this world, I’ll revel in every morsel you are made of.

He would promise to wander the ends of the earth and find where the sky began if it meant she would keep her hand there, if it meant he could drown out the rest of his frantic fears by focusing on the sound of her voice. She was his guiding saint, the Polaris of his heart.

Adequately expensive. Not expensive enough to verge onto the point of outrage.

This is an age of consumption, time speeding by on American flavors and jazz, French literature and a sea of lost cosmopolitan love. If you are

It doesn't take poison to make something lethal. Any substance in large quantities can kill. Something good in large quantities will kill too.

No matter how lightly he wanted to take the world, the world came barreling toward him at breakneck speed every second day.

Orion wasn't misquoting from a lack of knowledge. Orion was just being an asshole on purpose.

You can’t ask me not to love you by keeping me at arm’s length. I’ll love you anyway.

You wanted daffodils at your wedding, and suddenly I wanted to be the one beside you at the altar

You’re very grumpy. I expected my wife to be less grumpy.

An ever-expanding supernova. A hurricane that changed worlds and remade them.

No, Celia, tell the truth.” His grip tightened on her. One hand rose, sinking into her loose hair. “You spoke correctly the first time. You’re afraid. I tell you over and over again that I want you, but you generate excuses for me. I tell you that I refuse to worship my father’s image of respectability, but you make it a matter of safety. I will love you if I please. I will make you my altar, I’ll put you above everything else in this world, I’ll revel in every morsel you are made of. It’s simple—just tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll let you go. But I won’t accept anything else. I won’t accept your refusal on the make-believe grounds of our work.

It was his father. Perhaps it made Orion a bad operative, but if he were ever to encounter incriminating evidence within the walls of his house, his first instinct would be to hide it away.

This is an age of consumption, time speeding by on American flavors and jazz, French literature, and a sea of lost cosmopolitan love. If you are not careful, you will be swallowed.

Beautiful. Arrogant. Conniving. In this decade, who wasn't?

You don't have to justify yourself. You feel what you feel. You'll drive yourself made otherwise.

And so her twin sister had turned twenty. Rosalind Lang was still nineteen. Rosalind Lang would always be nineteen.

Hatred did have a home in him, however weak the hearth was.

Both of you just described the very definition of being afraid of something. Got it. We’re avoiding everyone.

Do me a favor,” she said dully. “Send Dimitri Voronin my regards when you see him in hell.

But the thought of being associated with that other version of herself was horrifying now. That Rosaland was an enemy, someone she had to push farther and farther into the recesses of her mind, someone she could never think about too much lest she make a return. The Rosalind who was here today could never reacquaint herself with her former remnant; she was too busy trying to fix that girl's damn mistakes

Where is he living?” “With you.” The room fell silent. Rosalind thought she had misheard. “I beg your pardon?” “Sorry, did I skip that part? You’re getting married. For this mission, the two of you will be abandoning your present code names and becoming one combined operative. Welcome to the covert branch, High Tide.

Your life is mine as mine is yours." it was an echo of her statement from days earlier, but now it was ringing with an entirely different caliber. "If I promise to save myself, can you promise to forgive yourself? Can we make an exchange?

City gangsters had been taking the hit when the warlords in control needed a place to point the finger before the imperialists could say the Chinese couldn’t control their own people and installed intruder governments in the country instead.

But the thought of being associated with that other version of herself was horrifying now. That Rosalind was an enemy, someone she had to push farther and farther into the recesses of her mind, someone she could never think about too much lest she make a return. The Rosalind who was here today could never reacquaint herself with her former remnant; she was too busy trying to fix that girl's damn mistakes

Orion had thrown a crate at him. He swooped down and picked up another, but instead of throwing it he swung his arms and smacked it against the soldiers head spitting: "Don't" --he swung again --"touch"-- another hard whack --"my" --the crate broke into two pieces-- "wife".

Isn’t it strange how we say sorry in Chinese? In every other language it’s some version of “pardon” or distress. But ‘duì bù qǐ…’ We’re saying we don’t match up. Sorry I didn’t do what was expected. Sorry I let you down. Sorry you expected me to save you from harm, and I didn’t—I didn’t.

I will love you if I please. I will make you my altar, I’ll put you above everything else in this world, I’ll revel in every morsel you are made of. It’s simple—just tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll let you go. But I won’t accept anything else. I won’t accept your refusal on the make-believe grounds of our work.

Tell your heart to stop pumping so fast." "I can't," he replied weakly. "It swoons when you're around.

Biǎojiě," Juliette Cai said, grinning. "Don't you recognize me anymore?

She wasn’t enough of a fool to believe that she could have the world’s love, and yet she was enough of one to stick around wanting it anyway.

You are nobody.” “Excuse me?” A wave of irrational anger overrode the pain of her landing. “I am your wife.

Your life is mine as mine is yours- do you understand me? You are not allowed to die.

In that manner, perhaps no one is alike to anyone, but that only means that they are another one of the masses, another face that does not draw attention, another late-night wanderer trailing along the streets to the dun, dun! of the tram chugging on its tracks. They are your neighbor leaning off the balcony; they are a hawker selling peaches; they are that banker hailing the last rickshaw in the area to pursue the night in a different district. They are, quite simply, Shanghai.

Then somewhere along the way, between our last petty argument and the fifth time you decided to sleep on my shoulder, I fell in love with you, and once I’ve tumbled that deep, I’m trying to understand everything you say no matter which language it’s in.

Trauma doesn’t have to lead to destruction. Trauma can be the guiding point into something better, something stronger.

Artists would scramble to paint a face like that onto their war posters. Render her expression in vivid enough lines, and the sight alone could lead the world into battle.

understanding, a friendship.

In this city, if you knew a language, you had associated with its culture in some way or another.

simpler days in Paris where she and Rosalind had grown up, making a world of their own.

missive.

Celia's expression turned incredulous, as if she were being addressed by a rock that had grown a mouth to speak rock thoughts.

Regret would always clothe her in a heavy shroud, change the way she moved and the way she met the world. But so too did love. And it was warmer, thicker.

Hold my hand" Alisa huffed from ahead, extending her arm. "What? Why?" Rosalind reached anyway and grabbed Alisa's hand. "Do you see something?" "No, I'm offering emotional support.

As the daughter of an earl, she would keep her title, even after she became your wife. Lady Helen Winterborne.” Devon was wily enough to understand how the sound of that would affect him. Lady Helen Winterborne…yes, Rhys bloody-fucking-well loved that. He had never dreamed of marrying a respectable woman, much less a daughter of the peerage. But he wasn’t fit for her. He was a Welshman with a rough accent and a foul mouth, and vulgar origins. A merchant. No matter how he dressed or improved his manners, his nature would always be coarse and competitive. People would whisper, seeing the two of them together…They would agree that marrying him had debased her. Helen would be the object of pity and perhaps contempt. She would secretly hate him for it. Rhys didn’t give a damn. He had no illusions of course, that Devon was offering him Lady Helen’s hand without conditions. There would be a hefty price: The Ravenels’ need for money was dire. But Helen was worth whatever he would have to pay. His fortune was even vaster than people suspected; he could have purchased a small country if he so desired. “Have you discussed it with Lady Helen yet?” Rhys asked. “Is that why she played Florence Nightingale while I had fever? To soften me in preparation for bargaining?” “Hardly,” Devon said with a snort. “Helen is above that sort of manipulation. She helped you because she’s naturally compassionate. No, she has no inkling that I’ve considered arranging a match for her.” Rhys decided to be blunt. “What makes you think she would be willing to marry the likes of me?” Devon answered frankly. “She has few options at present.

there was no possibility that she would let her guard down even for a second. Never again.

What kind of person had the decency to say those words and not mean a single part of it? What kind of person would spend all that time winning her trust until they were lovers, only to pull the rug out from under her and chase power instead?

It didn’t stop the nausea of the memories or the tightness in her throat.

nonlethal tranquilizer.

There were two types of people in the world: those who hid their wreckage on the inside and those who wore it on the outside.

Better to play at being a soldier, doing what you were asked, and if the government decided to switch who was an ally and who was an adversary at the expense of the people, there would be no hurt cut deep into your heart.