Fyre Quotes

When the Fyre inside is kindled and when the Time Is Right, anything is possible.

There's no way the new chimney will fall down, Lu. Not with you in charge. It wouldn't dare.

When Diogenes was asked how to live with the truth, he answered: Do as with fyre: do not go so exceadyngely close that it will burn, but do not go so farre away or the clode will reache you.

Gavin swept the street again with his Dreamsense. As far as he could tell, no Fyre Elementals had snuck up while his brain evacuated it's cranial real estate in favor of warmer southern climes in Hardwood Heights.

She was neither white nor black, Fyre nor Aquanite; she was a dame of the White King, and it was up to her, and her alone, to choose what path her life would take.

Vimes had found Old Stoneface’s journal in the Unseen University library. The man had been hard no doubt about that. But they were hard times. He’d written: “In the Fyres of Struggle let us bake New Men, who Will Notte heed the Old Lies.” But the old lies had won in the end.

Marcia," said Milo. "That was Jenna. I know my child." "And I know mine," said Marcia. "I mean - I know Septimus.

Jannit liked Jenna, who reminded her of how she had been as a girl: a confident, taking-charge kind of person. That was how girls should be.

Spit Fyre practised a recently acquired skill - he winked.

Cassian miró a Rhys de arriba abajo, el pelo largo hasta los hombros en movimiento. —Muy a la moda hoy, hermano. Y además has obligado a vestir a la pobre Fyre. —Me hizo un guiño había algo tallado toscamente en esos rasgos..., como si lo hubieran fabricado con viento, tierra y llamas y todas las formas civilizadas que lo cubrían fueran solo un inconveniente. –Capítulo 16, pág. 155

Septimus had no need to untie Spit Fyre as the dragon had already chewed his way through the rope. They followed Aunt Zelda and Jenna out the side door at the foot of the turret and down to the Palace Gate. Aunt Zelda kept up a brisk pace. Showing a surprising knowledge of the Castle’s narrow alleyways and sideslips, she hurtled along. Oncoming pedestrians were taken aback at the sight of the large patchwork tent approaching them at full speed. They flattened themselves against the walls, and, as the tent passed by with the Princess, the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice and a feral-looking boy with bandaged hands—not to mention a dragon—in its wake, people rubbed their eyes in disbelief.

The man had been hard no doubt about that. But they were hard times. He’d written: “In the Fyres of Struggle let us bake New Men, who Will Notte heed the Old Lies.” But the old lies had won in the end. He said to people: you’re free. And they said hooray, and then he showed them what freedom costs and they called him a tyrant and, as soon as he’d been betrayed, they milled around a bit like barn-bred chickens who’ve seen the big world outside for the first time, and then they went back into the warm and shut the door—

Lupus Star Wolves (the spirits of dead wolves who have traveled to the Cave of Souls) air ceilidh fyre (lightning) chieftains (clan leaders) lords (pack leaders) skreeleens byrrgis leaders captains lieutenants sublieutenants corporals packers gnaw wolves unranked Obeas owls other four-legged animals other birds, except owls plants earth fire water

But you look so pretty covered in my blood, little fawn.

Marcia looked a little guilty. "Well, I promised your mother when she came to see me that there would be no, er... arguments." … "Wow." - Septimus

Aunt Zelda," Jenna said gently. "You know there should be three bowls in the bag? Do you know where the other one is?" Aunt Zelda sighed. "The Marsh Python ate it," she said.

As long as someone is white, male, and telling us to pay attention to him, we’ll follow even “the most obviously bumbling con artist dumbass ever birthed by the universe,” West says. Even rude, mediocre, murderous Ted Bundy. Even buffoonish Fyre Festival fraudster Billy McFarland. Even racist fascist misogynist Donald Trump. Even diabolical despotic Jim Jones.

Septimus peered over the side - the marble looked solid once more. "It's Thixotropic," he said. "It's what?" said Nicko. "Solid. But goes liquid under pressure." "Don't we all," said Nicko gloomily.

Septimus! Oh, Septimus!" Marcia hurled herself toward Septimus and enveloped him in her cloak. "You're alive. I thought… I thought you were dead. I thought you'd fallen…" "Me too," said Septimus, holding on to Marcia. "Me too.

Fra banc to banc, fra wod to wod, I rin Ourhailit with my feble fantasie, Lyk til a leif that fallis from a trie Or til a reid ourblawin with the wind. Twa gods gyds me: the ane of tham is blind, Ye, and a bairn brocht up in vanitie; The nixt a wyf ingenrit of the se, And lichter nor a dauphin with hir fin. Unhappie is the man for evirmair That teils the sand and sawis in the aire; Bot twyse unhappier is he, I lairn, That feidis in his hairt a mad desyre, And follows on a woman throw the fyre, Led be a blind and teichit be a bairn.

I can tell you what’s going on here, Clara. You are mine. You’ve been mine since the first time I locked eyes on you. I tried to stay away. I tried to allow you to live a normal life, but I couldn’t do it. Fighting my need for you is like fighting my need to breathe. Impossible.

The first time the chaos in my head and the demons that cause it lie dormant for long enough for me to breathe. The significance of that isn’t lost on me, and it just solidifies Clara’s position in my life. She is my peace. She is my love. She is my obsession. And I’m never letting her go.

A bit late, but you know what they say." Beetle hazarded a guess. "You're late? What time do you call this? Where on earth have you been?" Silas looked baffled. "No. Better late than never." Beetle watched Silas Heap head across the Great Hall toward the Sealed lobby and heard one of the guard Wizards demand, "Silas Heap, where on earth have you been?

She filched one anyway, and ate it on her way out. It was stuffed with chopped nuts and fruit and cheese, the crust flaky and still warm from the oven. Eating Ser Amory’s tart made Arya feel daring. Barefoot sure-foot lightfoot, she sang under her breath. I am the ghost in Harrenhal. —A CLASH OF KINGS Medieval Arya Tart Take Wyn, & putte in a potte, an clarifyd hony, an Saunderys, pepir, Safroun, Clowes, Maces, & Quybibys, & mynced Datys, Pynys and Roysonys of Corauns, & a lytil Vynegre, & sethe it on þe fyre; an sethe fygys in Wyne, & grynde hem, & draw hem þorw a straynoure, & caste þer-to, an lete hem boyle alle to-gederys … þan kytte hem y lyke lechyngys, an caste hem in fayre Oyle, and fry hem a lytil whyle; þanne take hem owt of þe panne, an caste in-to a vesselle with þe Syrippe, & so serue hem forth, þe bryndonys an þe Sirippe, in a dysshe; & let þe Sirippe þe rennyng, & not to styf. —TWO FIFTEENTH-CENTURY COOKERY-BOOKS

«Vi hadde en homse i menigheten vår i Virginia,» sier jeg. «Men etter at jeg rev ut øreringen hans med tang, kom han på bedre tanker.» Goodmoondoor ser på sin skjeggete venn som en liten gutt som venter på at en større gutt skal fyre løs. Torture skratter som djevelen selv, og svarer på godt engelsk: «Heh heh. Slik skal det gjøres. Svi ballene på dem!»

please

Then trembling yet through feare, the Squire bespake, That Geauntesse Argante is behight, A daughter of the Titans which did make Warre against heauen, and heaped hils on hight, To scale the skyes, and put Ioue from his right: Her sire Typhœus was, who mad through merth, And drunke with bloud of men, slaine by his might, Through incest, her of his owne mother Earth Whilome begot, being but halfe twin of that berth. For at that berth another Babe she bore, To weet the mighty Ollyphant, that wrought Great wreake to many errant knights of yore, And many hath to foule confusion brought. These twinnes, men say, (a thing far passing thought) Whiles in their mothers wombe enclosd they were, Ere they into the lightsome world were brought, In fleshly lust were mingled both yfere, And in that monstrous wise did to the world appere. So liu’d they euer after in like sin, Gainst natures law, and good behauioure: But greatest shame was to that maiden twin, Who not content so fowly to deuoure Her natiue flesh, and staine her brothers bowre, Did wallow in all other fleshly myre, And suffred beasts her body to deflowre: So whot she burned in that lustfull fyre, Yet all that might not slake her sensuall desyre. But ouer all the countrey she did raunge, To seeke young men, to quench her flaming thurst, And feed her fancy with delightfull chaunge: Whom so she fittest finds to serue her lust, Through her maine strength, in which she most doth trust, She with her brings into a secret Ile, Where in eternall bondage dye he must, Or be the vassall of her pleasures vile, And in all shamefull sort him selfe with her defile.

Little Snowflake, I kill people for a living. Do you really think a little blood is going to gross me out?

I need you to tell me what’s going on, Snowflake. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.” “You can’t fix it anyway,” I croak right before another cramp grabs hold and a spasm shoots down my leg.

If that means I have to clean up a little bit of blood, so be it. I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant it would help you.

I'd love to hear more about your accomplishments, but I don't have a magnifying glass handy.

I told you that you wouldn’t like the consequences of disobeying me, Clara. I’m not a patient man, I’m not sure what about our previous interactions has given you that impression, but it’s simply not the case, and if the only way to get you to do what you’re told is to spank your ass, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

My girl’s a fighter. She’ll kick and scream and claw her way out of any situation, but not this one. Because I’m never going to let her go. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not next week or even next month. Hell, if the devil tries to take her before he does me, I’ll drag her back down from heaven and then right along to hell to live in eternal damnation by my side. I’m that much of an asshole.

Everyone thinks you’re fragile, but really you’ve always been stronger than any of them have been able to see.” My heart does a painful somersault in my chest, the compliment unexpected. I’d like to blame the fact that I’ve been constantly underestimated for the last twenty-three years of my life, but there’s something in the back of my mind telling me that’s not why I’m preening under his attention. Perhaps it’s self-preservation. The longer I can keep my captor happy, the safer I’ll be, but then again, he has to have taken me for a reason, and how safe can anyone really be when they’re locked up by one of the most ruthless men in the city?

I’m not going to take you against your will. I’m going to tease and deny you, and when you can’t take it anymore, you’re going to beg for me to fuck you. You’re going to beg for me to take away the ache, and the moment you beg, the moment those words leave your pretty red lips, you’ll have made a deal with the devil.

Because snowflakes are beautiful. On the surface they seem fragile, but in order to make it from the sky to the earth, their strength is tested.

all of its paths to reduce its losses—charging higher prices, paying its workers less—would destroy the advantages that it has built. So it sits there, widely regarded as one of the defining success stories of the Internet era, a unicorn unlike any other, with billions in losses and a plan to become profitable that involves vague promises to somehow monetize all its user data and a specific promise that its investment in a different new technology—the self-driving car, much ballyhooed but as yet not exactly real—will square the circle and make the math add up. That’s the story of Uber—so far. It isn’t a pure Instagram fantasy like the Fyre Festival or a naked fraud like Theranos; it managed to go public and maintain its outsize valuation, unlike its fellow money-losing unicorn WeWork, whose recent attempt at an IPO hurled it into crisis. But like them, it is, for now, an example of a major twenty-first-century company invented entirely out of surplus, less economically efficient so far than the rivals it is supposed to leapfrog, sustained by investors who believe its promises in defiance of the existing evidence, floated by the hope that with enough money and market share, you can will a profitable company into existence, and goldwashed by an “Internet company” identity that obscures the weakness of its real-world fundamentals. Maybe it won’t crash like the others; maybe the tens of billions in investor capital won’t be wasted; maybe we won’t be watching a documentary on its hubris five or ten years hence. But Uber’s trajectory to this point, the strange unreality of its extraordinary success, makes it a good place to begin a discussion of economic

breakfast, mid-morning snack, lunch, tea, or dinner. Spit Fyre didn’t mind what it was called as long as he could eat it.

Spit Fyre had also developed a taste for the blue woolen cloaks worn by the Ordinary Wizards,

As Alther lay dusty and trampled on the floor, Spit Fyre ripped into the ebony chest that the ghost had been sitting

Marcia said you had to go and have fun?" Rose looked astonished. "Yep. That's what she said." "Crumbs." "Yes, I know.

Comptroller," Sally began hurriedly in an oddly strangled voice. "I bring you this Wonder for the Coronation. We, the family Mullin, are honored to be the Keepers of the Coronations Biscuit Tin and as is our bounded duty since Time Began, we now resent this to thee, Oh, Comptroller, for its sacred duty. Safe Journey." - To Sarah

That, Jim Knee, is what comes from showing off," said Septimus, sounding uncannily like Marcia.

Marcellus," said Julius, sounding somewhat unenthusiastic. "Um, how are you?" Marcellus smiled. "Alive," he said tersely… Julius, you snake. It has taken me nearly five hundred years to figure this out, but now at last I know what caused the Great Alchemie Disaster... you!

Marcia's fine," said his older self. "And that is all you want to know right now.

There’s no way the new chimney will fall down, Lu. Not with you in charge. It wouldn’t dare.

Selv hvis Aske virkelig var til fyre, ændrede det ikke på det faktum at jeg ikke var. Selv hvis Aske havde været en pige, var han langt uden for min liga. Aske havde venner, et socialt liv og brugte sikkert ikke sin fritid på at tænke sig selv halvt ihjel eller plage sig selv med ting der ikke var relevante. Aske var optimistisk og populær. Jeg var ... det modsatte.

I’d watch that pretty mouth if I were you, love. You don’t know how much trouble it can get you in.

Bishop stands slowly, his eyes dark with a mixture of emotions I can’t quite put my finger on, and I can’t help but press my legs together to relieve the ache in my core. No man has ever made me feel so much with so little, but I’m in no position to question my body’s reactions. “Come again, love?” He steps toward the edge of the bed, and it takes all I have not to recoil. “You heard me.” I shrug. “If Crew thinks I should replace my dad, then he, and presumably you, think I’m strong, or at least that I can pretend to be, so why do you continue to treat me like I’m made of glass?

Kaos,” I moan. His almost black eyes snap up to meet mine, and a devilish smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “Oh, Princess, I fucking love hearing my name on those pretty pink lips.

Keep making sounds like those, Princess, and I’m going to spend the rest of the day dragging orgasms from your perfect fucking body.

You were taught wrong, love. Sure, there are times when emotions have no place, times you have to shut them off and remain focused, but that doesn’t mean having them isn’t important.

Emotions are not a weakness, love. They’re what make us strong.

Mine,” I growl against her lips, and I know there’s no going back now.

No going back, Camilla,” I warn. “Once I know what it feels like to be inside you, I’m never letting you go.” A smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, and she leans forward until her lips are just a breath from mine. “Fuck me, Kovu.

Oh baby, you gotta know God isn’t here. It’s just you and the devil.

Good girl,” I praise. “Such a good fucking girl for me.

Such a needy little whore for me, Princess.

Is my girl feeling needy?” I groan against her skin before sinking my teeth into the swell of her breast. “Fuck, Kaos, please.” “I like it when you beg for me, Princess.” I sink my teeth into her other tit and drag her hips closer. Fuck, she makes me crazy. “On your hands and knees, Camilla.

From the outside, we’re complete opposites. She’s light, and I’m darkness. She’s the sun, and I’m the moon. She’s destined for the heavens, while hell has been beckoning me for years. But on the inside? On the inside, we’re the same.

But don’t let our mistakes ruin what we’re building between us, because I can tell you right now that you’re the only woman that has ever made Crew relax and have fun, you’re the only person that can help Kovu sleep, you’re the only woman that can go toe to toe with Kaos and come out on top, and you’re the only person I ever want to see when I wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night.

Crew withdraws from my throat, and I drag in desperate breaths as I stare up at him through bleary eyes. “Fuck, you look beautiful like this, Camilla. Covered in tears and saliva and sweat. Your makeup running, looking like the perfect slut for us.” A moan escapes from my throat and he gives me a knowing look. “You love being our slut, don’t you, Little Menace?” “I love it, Daddy.” “I know you do, baby.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek and then across my bottom lip until he slips it into my mouth. I suck it hungrily,

Such a good girl for us, love.” Bishop runs his fingers through her hair as he hands me the plug and helps me to cover the bulbous head with lube.

You gonna suck my cock, baby?” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her cheek gently. She nods as she drags her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes, Daddy.

Do you like my fingers in your ass, Little Menace?” “Yes,” she moans. “Please.” “Please, what, baby?” I press deeper and revel in the sharp intake of breath she drags in. “I need more. Please, Crew,” she pleads with me, but instead I slap my free hand down on the cheek without Kovu’s artwork. “Try again, Camilla.” “Please, Daddy,” she cries out, and my cock pulses against the zipper of my pants. If I don’t get some relief soon, I’m worried my balls might actually start turning blue.

But I need more. More of them. More of their roughness. More of their affection. I’m desperate for it. I press back against Bishop, and he begins fucking me harder without hesitation. His balls slap against my clit with every thrust, dragging me closer to the edge. At the same time, one of his hands lifts from my hip and begins playing with the plug in my ass, causing my entire body to tense as pleasure washes over me. So fucking close. “Oh, you like that, love?” Bishop chuckles roughly. “You’re going to fucking love it when you have one of us in each of your holes as we fuck you like the little whore you are for us.

What are you doing?” I hear Bishop ask. “Why do you sound like that?” “Because I have a little brat in the middle of my desk, pleasuring herself, and she won’t let me touch,” he growls.

That’s it, Little Lamb, I want you to come all over my cock,” I growl against her ear. Her fingers up the pressure against her clit while they occasionally drop to where we’re connected, tearing a groan from my throat. “You gonna come for him, Princess?

I wonder how many times he can make you come all over his cock, love.” Bishop’s voice is thick with desire

Beg for it, Little Lamb. Ask them nicely to paint your skin with their cum.

Do as you’re told, and maybe we won’t spend the rest of the day forcing orgasms out of you.