Gage Quotes

I'd do almost anything for you. I think I'd kill for you. But I'm not going to comfort you while you cry in my arms over another man. - Gage Travis

Hey guys,' I said. 'Don't be idiots. This is Evan. Evan, the angry-looking one is Jerom, the constipated-looking one is Nathan, and the goofball on the right is Gage.' Gage laughed. 'Constipated, Nathan? We said to look fierce.

What are you thinking?" he asks. I know Gage hates it when I cry - he is completely undone by the sight of tears - so I blink hard against the sting. "I'm thinking how thankful I am for everything," I say, "even the bad stuff. Every sleepless night, every second of being lonely, every time the car broke down, every wad of gum on my shoe, every late bill and losing lottery ticket and bruise and broken dish and piece of burnt toast." His voice is soft. "Why, darlin'?" "Because it all led me here to you.

And I wonder how Gage knew this is what my soul has craved. He turns me to face him, his eyes searching. It occurs to me that no one in my life has ever concerned himself so thoroughly with my happiness.

Sometimes it's the ones closest to us who can destroy us the most. Sometimes it's friends...family. It's not always a romantic relationship that can leave us with a broken heart. -Gage

Gage opens the door. I’m not sure whether he gets out or Logan yanks him into the street, but a fight erupts. Full throttle kicks to the balls

I could never hurt you because hurting you is…hurting me. -Gage

We haven't been together very long," I reminded him. "You love me and I love you. How long does that need to be?" Knight and Anya Gage

I love you Travis. I've loved you since the day I met you. It killed me that you walked away, but it was the right thing to do. We weren't ready. We weren't ready because we weren't complete. We needed to wait for Gage to find us.

And if Travis was chocolate, then Gage was… donuts. Yes, sweet, flaky donuts. And the only thing better than donuts and chocolate was… well, donuts covered in chocolate.

What sets our species apart is not just what men will do to other men, but how tirelessly they justify it.

If Gage kept up this perfect gentleman routine, she was going to have to buy stock in Duracell or Energizer just so she could function on a daily basis.

People think that the opposite of success is failure, but it's not. Failure is part of the process of success.

Don’t leave me, Eliza. You can’t… I need you too much. I love you too much. -Gage

I would never make you drop something you love. I’d never drop what I love—for anybody. I’d make room for the other thing I love, though. I made room for you." ~Gage

A rebel! How glorious the name sounds when applied to a woman. Oh, rebellious woman, to you the world looks in hope. Upon you has fallen the glorious task of bringing liberty to the earth and all the inhabitants thereof.

I’m sorry, Ellie. I can mend your heart, though. I can collect all the pieces and put you back together again." ~Gage

He’s got plans with the girlfriend.” Gage rolled his eyes. “You can say her name, man. She’s not Voldemort, you know.

I try to ignore the fact that he's sprawled out next to me in all his birthday suit glory right now which totally confuses the hell out of me. What am I supposed to be doing? Should I grab onto it with both hands like a fire hose?

You're so full of it, darlin'.

So if you were dating the UPS guy, he could buy you whatever the hell he wanted. But I cant."well...yes, but I'd never date the UPS guy. Those brown shorts are just not a turn-on for me.

We could call him Gynecological Gage or Assman - AssHOLE - take your pick.

Rockaway? That's my special place with Gage - was anyway. Now it'll 'forever' be marked with gluttony and vomit - sounds about right.

Please, don't leave me. Don't make me empty again. Don't let me break. -Gage

Continuer la lutte lorsqu'on est victorieux, c'est aussi bien diminuer ses propres forces qu'affaiblir le gage exigé du vaincu. (notes de L. Nachin (1948) sur l'article II)

I think about you day and night, Eliza. I wake up and wish every morning you were lying in my bed beside me. Every time I’m really smiling, it’s because I’m with you or I’m thinking about you. -Gage

I think I should be in mourning. Many brain cells were lost in the creation of that orgasm." Trixie chuckled. "I appreciate their sacrifice.

God damn. I needed to either fuck her of fire her, because this in-between shit was not workin' for me. "Course Gage wanted her crew working out at The Line permanently, so I guess that meant firing was off the table. Okay, then, I'd take one for the team and fuck her.

Gage wants to know more about his neighbor, Miss Dupree the one who keeps getting undressed at night with the curtains open and the lights on.In mock horror,Parker swung in his chair. Hey! you and Ashley are Gage's neighbors!

Can I play with her?” Gage asked Kaleb as if Zoey had no say in the matter.

I finally figured out how hard the battle between your love for me and your love for art, your future, and your career must’ve been. It just hurts to know art won, is all." ~Gage

I think if you didn't still have feelings for me, you wouldn't be so angry with me. Anger I can work with, indifference would have killed me." - Gage Hunter

Gage sighed. "This team was a whole hell of a lot easier to run before any of us had ever heard about The One. You know that, right?" Maybe." Becker grinned. "But it wasn't nearly as interesting.

Gage appears beneath me. 'Jump, and I'll catch you.' 'No.' I strengthen my death grip on the trunk of the tree. 'I'm very afraid of heights. I'll need hours of therapy to repair the damage done here today.'

I liked the thought of giving my life, my memories, to the next rycke, because Gage would live on in them forever. He would be a balm, a reprieve from all the darkness. A sweet, delicate bloom that stayed rooted deep in the earth in the eye of a swirling storm of death and rage. I would make sure of it—I would make sure that my memories of him were never lost. I would make them the brightest spot in my mind.

Naturally, I handled it like any mature adult would—opened Settings, scrolled down to ‘Feelings,’ and opted out.

That's because it was Gage Stevenson, the epitome of my childhood and love life. That boy is irreplaceable.

You’re my paradise for now." ~Gage

I broke her heart, and then I broke mine." - Gage Hunter

Life was simpler when she was a horny ghost who wanted to be a real girl,” I decide aloud. “We should have fucked her brains out, spoiled her, and kept her out of Hell,” Gage adds.

I hear someone howl like a fucking wolf, Gage’s manic laughter following it. Crazy fucker.

Everyone has weaknesses, including vampires, werewolves, and witches. But real friends don't care about those weaknesses. They stand together and help each other overcome them'~~~~ Ladon to Gage.

If she survives this, Jude is going to punish her, Gage is going to do something sappy, Ezekiel will do something pathetic, and I’m going to fuck her into a coma so that she can’t do it again any time soon.

The more thou search, the more thou shall marvel.

Do we fear death? Of course. But it is death that makes room for birth, and the cycle of life is as natural as the rise and fall of the Nile. Death is our last and greatest duty.

I looked down at the brochure nearest me."We're going to Nigeria," I threatened. "I hope you like elephant polo." -Liberty Jones

O Love, divine Love, why do You lay siege to me? In a frenzy of love for me, You find no rest. From five sides You move against me, Hearing, sight, taste, touch, and scent. To come out is to be caught; I cannot hide from You. If I come out through sight I see Love Painted in every form and color, Inviting me to come to You, to dwell in You. If I leave through the door of hearing, What I hear points only to You, Lord; I cannot escape Love through this gage. If I come out through taste, every flavor proclaims: "Love, divine Love, hungering Love! You have caught me on Your hook, for you want to reign in me." If I leave through the door of scent I sense You in all creation; You have caught me And wounded me through that fragrance. If I come out through the sense of touch I find Your lineaments in every creature; To try to flee from You is madness. Love, I flee from You, afraid to give You my heart: I see that You make me one with You, I cease to be me and can no longer find myself. If I see evil in a man or defect or temptation, You fuse me with him, and make me suffer; O Love without limits, who is it You love? It is You, O Crucified Christ, Who take possession of me, Drawing me out of the sea to the shore; There I suffer to see Your wounded heart. Why did You endure the pain? So that I might be healed.

Amontillado. Broiled Shad à la Maréchel. Cucumbers. Potatoes à la Duchesse. Filet Mignon à la Rossini. Chateau Lafite and Rinnart Brut. Fonds d’Artichaut Farcis. Pommery Sec. Sorbet au Kirsch. Cigarettes. Woodcock on Toast. Asparagus Sala. Ices: Canton Ginger. Cheeses: Pont l’Eveque; Rocquefort. Coffee. Liquers. Madeira, 1815. Cigars. Gage

Believing this country to be a political and not a religious organisation ... the editor of the NATIONAL CITIZEN will use all her influence of voice and pen against 'Sabbath Laws', the uses of the 'Bible in School', and pre-eminently against an amendment which shall introduce 'God in the Constitution.

Nobody wants to read about happy people.

If one million of you give assent to the one thousand who participate in the murder of a child, then one million of you are a million times guilty.

Nothing will infect you with a negative view of the world faster than hanging around people with harmful belief systems.

Meaning doesn’t remain in place—it’s drawn inward, pulled together by something deeper than consciousness: a noetic force.

The sneaker of a little boy named Gage Creed, run down by a speeding tanker-truck on Route 15 in Ludlow.

I want to hear you come while Gage fucks you with his tongue. You’re so damn hot like this, pressed between us. So fucking hot.

Kiss her, Gage.

If Gage finds out, he's going to have a cow-horns, balls, and all.

Baby, I'm better than Mr. Toad's Wild Ride." - Gage Hunter

Trying’s good. Trying’s sexy,” Gage murmured against Brady’s ear. “Now try telling me what you need.

I’d be happy to show you that I’m the only man who knows exactly how deep, high and rough you like it, love.” - Gage

I could feel her wipe away something wet, but I refused to think she had made me cry as well as admit that I was a coward. The League of Men was going to come confiscate my balls at this rate. But it didn't matter. Trixie was worth it.

All my relationships are short and sweet. Well...short, anyway." "Mine too." I sat in a leather chair near the sofa. It was stylish but uncomfortable, shaped like a cube and encased in a polished chrome frame. "I guess that's bad, isn't it?" He shook his head. "It shouldn't take a long time to figure out if someone is right for you. If it does, you're either dense or blind." "Or maybe you're dating an armadillo." Gage shot me a perplexed glance. "Pardon?" "I mean someone who's hard to set to know. Shy and heavily armored." "And ugly?" "Armadillos aren't ugly," I protested, laughing. "They're bulletproof lizards." "I think you're an armadillo." "I'm not shy." "But you are heavily armored." Gage considered that. He conceded the point with a brief nod. "Having learned about projection in couples counseling, I'd venture to say you're an armadillo too." "What's projection?" "It means you accuse me of the same things you're guilty of" "Good Lord," I said, lifting the wineglass to my lips. "No wonder all your relationships are short.

We all know whose side you're on," marshall says, picking him up and launching him toward the window. The explosive sound of glass shattering fills the room. The walls tremble from the sheer heft of his violent exit. "What the hell?" Barron rushes in with a needle at the ready. "I've removed your son from the premises per Skyla's wishes.

Hawkeye: ...Remember when Magneto brain-zapped the X-Men into fightin' us? There's mind control goin' on here. That or Cyclops is- Hank: I appreciate your concern, Hank, but I consulted Wolverine. He vouched for both Magneto and Ms Frost. And we, of all people, can't begrudge someone a second chance. Hawkeye: Second chance? Magneto's had, like, THIRTY! How many times're we gonna get burned before we stop cookin' naked? [...] Hank: Listen, why don't you stay here and supervise the students? Things are tense enough with Pietro in there. Hawkeye: Okay, kids, huddle up! We're gonna work on resisting mind control today. No particular reason.

Christ proclaimed: "I am the good shepherd." He then further showed, and with eloquent exactness, the difference between a shepherd and a hireling herder. The one has personal interest in and love for his flock, and knows each sheep by name, the other knows them only as a flock, the value of which is gaged by number; to the hireling they are only as so many or so much. While the shepherd is ready to fight in defense of his own, and if necessary even imperil his life for his sheep, the hireling flees when the wolf approaches, leaving the way open for the ravening beast to scatter, rend, and kill.

I think you're under no obligation whatsoever to forgive anything, to forget anything. You're not required to push away the years of abuse because the abuser now chooses to be sober and in his sobriety regrets his actions. And white may be small and unforgiving of me, I think people who do so at the snap of a dam finger are either liars or are in need of serious therapy. I assume you heard him out, so in my personal opinion, any debt you might owe for your existence is now paid in full. It may be fashionable to hold that terrible actions are indeed terrible, but that hte person inflicting them isn't responbile due to alcohol, drugs, DNA, or GD PMS. He damn well was responsible, and if you decided to loathe him for the rest of your life, I wouldn't blame you for it. How's that?" (Cybil to Gage - she ROCKS)

God will raise me up a champion," said Rebecca. "It cannot be that in merry England---the hospitable, the generous, the free, where so many are ready to peril their lives for honour, there will not be found one to fight for justice. But it is enough that I challenge the trial by combat---there lies my gage.

The love Travis shared with Kylie and Gage, the pure adoration between Kaleb and Zoey, the intense heat that transpired between Zane and V, and, yes, the deep affection that Ethan and Beau had found together.

Unlike we are, unlike, O princely Heart! Unlike our uses and our destinies... Thou, bethink thee, art A guest for queens to social pageantries, With gages from a hundred brighter eyes Than tears even can make mine... What hast though to do With looking from the lattice-lights at me, A poor, tired, wandering singer...

Yeah,” Joseph said. He rubbed his face over the back of Gage’s neck. “I want to smell the sweat on your skin and breathe in the scent of exhaust in your hair. I love the way you smell, Gage. My sexy, dirty bad boy.

This is also the story of two British generals. The first, Thomas Gage, was saddled with the impossible task of implementing his government’s unnecessarily punitive response to the Boston Tea Party in December 1773.

The only good deed I’ll be doing tonight is for the angels.” “The angels?” “Haven’t you heard? Every time I make you come, an angel gets his wings.” Brady dropped his smoky gaze to Gage’s mouth for a beat. “We really need to leave. Now.

Sure it was an odd coincidence for Gage Burton to be in possession of a fly she’d designed and given to her abductor, and for that fly to be tucked in between the pages of a news story that referenced Sebastian. But coincidences happened.

He that is slow to believe anything and everything is of great understanding, for belief in one false principle is the beginning of all unwisdom. Compton

That's what friends are for. The people who aren't in your life 'cause they're related, or hot for you. They just love you.

Justice is about harmony... revenge is about you making yourself feel better.

The harder you search the more troubled you become.

No crime is a means to an end. No crime can be rationalized.

Afterdeath. That one landed differently. The name didn’t have to explain itself; it sat there, already loaded. It wasn’t a promise. It was a brand.

Yup, Uncle Logan said my dad finally got some so he doesn't have to be such a d-i-c-k, anymore. What'd he get, anyway, Uncle?" The question twisted Gage's brow into a knot as he tipped his head back to look up as his uncle who'd moved to stand behind him. Trent's brother was suppressing laughter as he pressed his lips to Gage's forehead. "Seems he got something really special.

Ran into him?  Are you not together?" Cassie shook her head.  "No." Gage contradicted her by saying, "We are.  We're getting married." Cassie leaned into him and hissed.  "Would you stop telling people that."  She turned back to Sam and gave her a smile.  "We're not getting married." Gage used Cassie's hair to tip her head back again.  He leaned over, giving her another kiss before saying, "Sunshine, we are." Cassie yanked her hair out of his fist and took a step away from him.  "Honey limpkins," she said, sarcastically, "we are not.

Rea­sons Why I Loved Be­ing With Jen I love what a good friend you are. You’re re­ally en­gaged with the lives of the peo­ple you love. You or­ga­nize lovely ex­pe­ri­ences for them. You make an ef­fort with them, you’re pa­tient with them, even when they’re side­tracked by their chil­dren and can’t pri­or­i­tize you in the way you pri­or­i­tize them. You’ve got a gen­er­ous heart and it ex­tends to peo­ple you’ve never even met, whereas I think that ev­ery­one is out to get me. I used to say you were naive, but re­ally I was jeal­ous that you al­ways thought the best of peo­ple. You are a bit too anx­ious about be­ing seen to be a good per­son and you def­i­nitely go a bit over­board with your left-wing pol­i­tics to prove a point to ev­ery­one. But I know you re­ally do care. I know you’d sign pe­ti­tions and help peo­ple in need and vol­un­teer at the home­less shel­ter at Christ­mas even if no one knew about it. And that’s more than can be said for a lot of us. I love how quickly you read books and how ab­sorbed you get in a good story. I love watch­ing you lie on the sofa read­ing one from cover-to-cover. It’s like I’m in the room with you but you’re in a whole other gal­axy. I love that you’re al­ways try­ing to im­prove your­self. Whether it’s running marathons or set­ting your­self chal­lenges on an app to learn French or the fact you go to ther­apy ev­ery week. You work hard to be­come a bet­ter ver­sion of your­self. I think I prob­a­bly didn’t make my ad­mi­ra­tion for this known and in­stead it came off as ir­ri­ta­tion, which I don’t re­ally feel at all. I love how ded­i­cated you are to your fam­ily, even when they’re an­noy­ing you. Your loy­alty to them wound me up some­times, but it’s only be­cause I wish I came from a big fam­ily. I love that you al­ways know what to say in con­ver­sa­tion. You ask the right ques­tions and you know ex­actly when to talk and when to lis­ten. Ev­ery­one loves talk­ing to you be­cause you make ev­ery­one feel im­por­tant. I love your style. I know you think I prob­a­bly never no­ticed what you were wear­ing or how you did your hair, but I loved see­ing how you get ready, sit­ting in front of the full-length mir­ror in our bed­room while you did your make-up, even though there was a mir­ror on the dress­ing ta­ble. I love that you’re mad enough to swim in the English sea in No­vem­ber and that you’d pick up spi­ders in the bath with your bare hands. You’re brave in a way that I’m not. I love how free you are. You’re a very free per­son, and I never gave you the sat­is­fac­tion of say­ing it, which I should have done. No one knows it about you be­cause of your bor­ing, high-pres­sure job and your stuffy up­bring­ing, but I know what an ad­ven­turer you are un­der­neath all that. I love that you got drunk at Jack­son’s chris­ten­ing and you al­ways wanted to have one more drink at the pub and you never com­plained about get­ting up early to go to work with a hang­over. Other than Avi, you are the per­son I’ve had the most fun with in my life. And even though I gave you a hard time for al­ways try­ing to for al­ways try­ing to im­press your dad, I ac­tu­ally found it very adorable be­cause it made me see the child in you and the teenager in you, and if I could time-travel to any­where in his­tory, I swear, Jen, the only place I’d want to go is to the house where you grew up and hug you and tell you how beau­ti­ful and clever and funny you are. That you are spec­tac­u­lar even with­out all your sports trophies and mu­sic cer­tifi­cates and in­cred­i­ble grades and Ox­ford ac­cep­tance. I’m sorry that I loved you so much more than I liked my­self, that must have been a lot to carry. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you the way you took care of me. And I’m sorry I didn’t take care of my­self, ei­ther. I need to work on it. I’m pleased that our break-up taught me that. I’m sorry I went so mental. I love you. I always will. I'm glad we met.

Great code didn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it came as a legendary snack. Sometimes it was the hidden patch that kept a whole structure from falling apart. Either way, she’d find it. And figure out what made it work.

She twined her fingers in Gage’s short hair and urged him lower. That earned her another chuckle. “Thanks for the guidance, but trust me, I know where I’m headed.” “Just wanted to make sure,” she said as he kissed his way to the first button of her shirt. “I know how men hate to ask for directions.

People ask me, "What’s it feel like, knowing your work will outlive you?" I say—imagine raising a kid. You feed it, teach it, protect it. Give it your best years. One day it grows up, builds a tech startup, and blocks your number.

Gage’s low gruff voice whispered back. “Don’t you get it by now? You carry my heart with you wherever you go. Whether you’re right by my side or half a world away from me, you carry everything I am with you. So I need you to protect that by keeping yourself alive, because if you die, I die with you.” - Gage

God will raise me up a champion," said Rebecca---"It cannot be that in merry England---the hospitable, the generous, the free, where so many are ready to peril their lives for honour, there will not be found one to fight for justice. But it is enough that I challenge the trial by combat---there lies my gage.

You have me.” His serious eyes penetrate mine. “For the rest of your days, I will be here for you—someone to trust, to lean on—to have and to hold from this day on.” Marshall is a thing of beauty both inside and out. I reach up and touch my fingers to his lips. Somebody is going to be very lucky to love him fully one day. “Those sounded an awful lot like wedding vows,” I whisper. “You will be everything to me, Skyla. A lover…” He kisses a finger. “A friend…” He kisses the tip of another. “A spouse…” He pushes my finger into his hot mouth and I pluck it out. “Where shall we spend our honeymoon?” He goes right there without provocation. “No honeymoon—but, well…” I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m sort of not really seeing Gage, since I can’t trust him. Logan wants to wait until the end of the faction war before we see where our feelings lie, so I suppose I’m open.” “Open?” His head twitches to the side just so. “You know, for wooing—no kissing though. You’ll have to woo without lingual contact.” “No kissing.” His chest broadens under the guise of this new turn of events. “Fantastic.” He says it sharp as if this were a war and he just gained ground on the enemy. “What shall we do to commemorate our first day of coupledom?

It would be strange if the weather-gage had to be explained to so old a sea-dog; though I must confess that there was a time when I confused it with that thing which creaks on the roof, showing which way the wind is blowing. Yet could you not obtain this valuable gage by some less arduous means than running a hundred miles and hiding behind a more or less mythical island which no one has ever seen, and that in the dark, a perilous proceeding if ever there was one?

Everywhere Gage looked, his fingers itched to touch and his brain raced to keep up. A snake coiled beneath his right pec, an eagle took flight over his left. Stars, numbers, and Celtic symbols fought for real estate. Gage would need weeks to explore the storied terrain of Brady’s body. Better put in for some vacation time now.

You scare me, Gage."  Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.  "You tore me up, ripped me apart.  It took me a long time to put the pieces back together again." His thumb grazed along her cheek in a soft caress.  "I know baby, but I promise you, you have nothing to fear this time." "How do you know that?  How can you promise something like that?" "Because I would die protecting you.  I would slay dragons for you."  He fisted her hair and brought his face close.  "I would get on my knees and beg for you.

Well, cats live as long as dogs,” he said, “mostly, anyway.” This was a lie, and he knew it. Cats lived violent lives and often died bloody deaths, always just below the usual range of human sight. Here was Church, dozing in the sun (or appearing to), Church who slept peacefully on his daughter’s bed every night, Church who had been so cute as a kitten, all tangled up in a ball of string. And yet Louis had seen him stalk a bird with a broken wing, his green eyes sparkling with curiosity and—yes, Louis would have sworn it—cold delight. He rarely killed what he stalked, but there had been one notable exception—a large rat, probably caught in the alley between their apartment house and the next. Church had really put the blocks to that baby. It had been so bloody and gore-flecked that Rachel, then in her sixth month with Gage, had had to run into the bathroom and vomit. Violent lives, violent deaths. A dog got them and ripped them open instead of just chasing them like the bumbling, easily fooled dogs in the TV cartoons, or another tom got them, or a poisoned bait, or a passing car. Cats were the gangsters of the animal world, living outside the law and often dying there. There were a great many of them who never grew old by the fire.

Why should I be afraid for, the devil came to me since when I was still a little kid

The land, that thou see now to have root, shall thou see wasted suddenly.

Iniquity shall be increased above that which now thou see, or that thou hast heard long ago.

An extreme fearfulness moves through all your body, and your mind is troubled more.

Hear me, and I will instruct thee; hearken to the thing that I say, and I shall tell thee more.

As for you, you're unwise: how may you then speak of these things whereof thou ask you?

Even so have I given the womb of the earth to those that be sown in it in their times.

They that be born in the strength of youth are of one fashion, and they that are born in the time of age, when the womb fail, are otherwise.

He that observes the wind shall not sow; and he that regards the clouds shall not reap.

Go thy way, and tell my people, the people of thy Lord God what manner of things, and how great wonders of the Lord thy God, thou hast seen.

Weigh thou therefore their wickedness now in the balance, and theirs also that dwell the world; and so shall thy name no where be found anymore.

Thy heart had gone too far in this world, and think thou to comprehend the way of the most High?

From the beginning, look, what thou desires to see, it shall be shew thee.

The swath of fiery orange along the horizon was like a crack in a potter's kiln.

Faith is the substance of things hoped for, evidence of things not seen.

If one thousand of you participate in the murder of one child, then one thousand of you are a thousand times guilty.

I can breathe when I’m with you.

The grief remained, and the guilt hadn’t gone anywhere, but they didn’t crush him the way they once did. They sat beside him instead, hollowed out by the years.

Time had always happened to her. Not here. Here, she slid light across the sky—watched the world bend to her hand.

When it started not to hurt, it started not to matter. She understood, perhaps, Louis thought, how easy it would be to let Gage become dead.

All right. We’ll find you something,” Gage says, finally relenting. “Any preferences? War hammer? Battle axe?” “Be serious.” He laughs. “Wee little dagger it is.

Dex was relieved Dr. Gage didn’t reveal how they’d met yesterday — with Dex almost getting squashed by Dr. Gage’s SUV.

Gravity? It’s not physics. It’s conditional. You believe in yourself, you stay upright. Start second-guessing, and you’re surprisingly buoyant while a gremlin critiques your life choices.

I meant the house behind him clutching his chest, Parker gasped. Gage! you pervert! That's Mrs. Falconi-she's ninety-six years old! Clearing her throat,Miss Dupree struggled to keep her own amusement in check. Thank you Roo,for that fascinating bit of information. And should any of us a pervert lurking outside our windows tonight, We can all rest easily now,Knowing it's only Gage.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not sayin' you don't love her. But love doesn't make us saints. You're gonna think of yourself first. We're flawed creatures, men. REAL love - when you strip out all the baggage - can make us better'n what we are. That's the gift and the curse. But you gotta LET it. End o'the day, if you love someone, you do what's best for 'em. Even if it's not what's best for you.

What good is music? None, Gage thought, and that is the point. To the world and its states and armies and factories and leaders, music says, ‘You are irrelevant’; and, arrogant and gentle as a god, to the suffering man it says only, ‘Listen.’ For being saved is not the point. Merciful, uncaring, it denies and breaks down all the shelters, the houses that men build for themselves, that they may see the sky.

Cybil pushed to her feet. "If he hurts her, I'll twist off his dick and feed it to his dog." With that, she stormed out of the room. "She's a little scary," Fox decided. "She's not the only one. I'm the one who'll be roasting his balls for dessert." Layla headed out behind Cybil. "I have to find something to make for dinner." "Oddly, I don't have much of an appetite right now." Fox glanced at Gage. "How about you?

You must be desperate if you're asking Mom for adivce. Did she sit you down on the couch ?" "I'm not a patient of hers, asswipe. I'm her favorite son." Derrick ignored Gage's huff. The little snot. (...) "Favorite, my ass. She pities you. Gage is nothing more than a baby-maker. I'm the favorite." Dylan preened, pulling at the cuffs on his designer shirt. "Culture, charm, good looks and a real occupation. What's not to love

Like synaptic plasticity, “neurogenesis is clearly involved in our interactions with our environment, both emotionally and cognitively,” says neuroscientist Fred Gage, of the Salk Institute in La Jolla, California.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Not only were Jo and Trixie in danger from this master vampire, but Trixie's beleif in my prickishness was fading fast. Priorities. I need to focus on getting Jo free of Chester permanently while protecting Trixie from any backlash from the master vampire. I could always prove to her later that I was a dick.

People ask me, 'What’s it feel like, knowing your work will outlive you?' I say—imagine raising a kid. You feed it, teach it, protect it. Give it your best years. One day it grows up, builds a tech startup, and blocks your number.

In the grave the chambers of souls are like the womb of a woman: For like as a woman that travails make haste to escape the necessity of the travail: even so do these places haste to deliver those things that are committed unto them.

The greatest futility! says the congregator, "The greatest futility! Everything is futile!" What does a person gain from all his hard work- At which he toils under the sun? A generation goes and another cometh forth, but the earth remains the same.

Here, the logic of childhood had survived, layered over with the grit of someone who needed to make sanctuary real. This was not some forgotten aisle claimed by chaos. It was structure—every angle chosen, every fold proof that the builder believed in comfort as defence.

General Electric offered to do the job for $1.8 million, insisting the deal would not earn a penny’s profit. A number of exposition directors held General Electric stock and urged William Baker, president of the fair since Lyman Gage’s April retirement, to accept the bid. Baker refused, calling it “extortionate.” General Electric rather miraculously came back with a bid of $554,000. But Westinghouse, whose AC system was inherently cheaper and more efficient, bid $399,000. The exposition went with Westinghouse, and helped change the history of electricity.

Snake pushes me out of the way, using me like a weapon to knock Gage and Tank off balance. He runs for the door and bursts out before we get a chance to get back to our feet. The men try to keep me in the house, but I don’t listen to them. Chasing after Snake, I reach under my shirt and wrap my hand around the handle of my gun. He doesn’t have a car, but that’s not going to stop the slimy piece of shit from trying to get away from me. After jangling a few handles, he finds an unlocked door and dives behind the wheel. My shot obliterates the back window, but it doesn’t stop him from cranking the engine

My brother was standing behind some trees, waving at me. I hurried my pace. “Gage. What are you doing here?” I pushed him deeper into the trees and looked over my shoulder. The walkway was clear. My shoulders sagged in relief. I gave his chest a good whack. “First rule of Clarke Club. We don’t know each other.

I didn't mean it to sound so challenging, but I needed to try to reassure my friend. Gritting my teeth, I tried to think of some way to placate Gideon. It was as if I was standing in quicksand, the earth slipping away from my feet the more I spoke. A smart man would keep his mouth shut. I wasn't always a smart man.

Gage and Rebecca finally succumb to one another and I never get tired of him calling her "beautiful"... He sat up, noticing her distress. “If you don’t want to—” “No. I mean, yes. I do. Want to.” “Are you sure?” he asked, brushing the hair away from her face and looking into her eyes. She nodded. No matter what had happened in his past, Rebecca knew she wanted this, wanted him. She reached out, running a hand down his chest and lower. He smiled, jerking his hips up into her hand. He pulled her down, her mouth to his as he rekindled that fire deep inside. For some reason, it grew faster than it had before. She gripped his shoulders, holding on, ready to embrace whatever came next. He roamed his hands all over her body. Sometimes they were soft and gentle, at other times strong and passionate. She gasped and all thought left her mind as his fingers disappeared between her legs. “Are you ready, beautiful?” he whispered against her lips. She nodded, and he slid inside her.

The brothers exchanged an incredulous look. “All due respect, but that is not the best way to deal with a bully,” Gage countered. “What is?” I asked. “Escalation,” the men said together. I pursed my lips together to keep from laughing. “Escalation, huh?” “A bully slaps your geography book out of your hand, you pick it up and slap him across the face with it until he hits the floor,” Cam explained. “Someone pushes you into a locker, you punch ’em in the face until someone pulls you off him,” Gage continued. “Some asshole steals your friend’s lunch money, you break into their house and steal everything out of their bedroom, then auction it all off at school the next day,” Levi added.

— Le patron ? Un vrai juif ! Et vous savez, les juifs on ne les changera jamais. Quelle race ! Et il cita des traits étonnants d’avarice, de cette avarice particulière aux fils d’Israël, des économies de dix centimes, des marchandages de cuisinière, des rabais honteux demandés et obtenus, toute une manière d’être d’usurier, de prêteur à gages.

He smiles at her before ever opening his eyes. The innocence in his face ensnares. Wraps her heart in a cocoon. They did this to him. The Society. Constructed that smile with malicious expectations. Now she must rip it off his face. Because she doesn’t deserve his love. Or Gage’s. This madness coils around her throat, darkening every inch of her soul.

If the most High grant thee to live, thou shall see after the third trumpet that the sun shall suddenly shine again in the night, and the moon thrice in the day:

Blood shall drop out of wood, and the stone shall give his voice, and the people shall be troubled:

He shall rule, whom they look not for that dwell upon the earth, and the fowls shall take their flight away together:

The Sodomy sea shall cast out fish, and make a noise in the night, which many have not known: but they shall all hear the voice thereof.

Salt waters shall be found in the sweet, and all friends shall destroy one another; then shall wit hide itself, and understanding withdraw itself into his secret chamber-

One land also shall ask another, and say, ‘Is righteousness that makes a man righteous gone through thee?’ And it shall say, ‘No.

At the same time shall men hope, but nothing obtain: they shall labor, but their ways shall not prosper.

Thou art sore troubled in mind for the people in the world’s sake: loves thou that people better than he that made them?

As for the tokens whereof thou ask me, I may tell thee of them in part: but as touching thy life, I am not sent to shew thee.

To shew thee such tokens I have leave; and if thou wilt pray again, and weep as now, and fast even days, thou shall hear yet greater things.

After seven days of fasten so it was, that the thoughts of my heart were very grievous unto me- and my soul recovered the spirit of understanding.

You do not love me; you love my success!

O Lord that bear rule, who may know these things, but he that had not his dwelling with men?

Like as thou canst do none of these things that I have spoken of, even so canst thou not find out my judgment, or in the end the love that I have promised unto my people.

Behold, O Lord, yet art thou nigh unto them that be reserved till the end: and what shall they do that have been before me, or we that be now, or they that shall come after us?

I will liken my judgment unto a ring: like as there is no slackness of the last, even so there is no swiftness of the first.

Could thou not make those that have been made, and be now, and that are for to come, at once; that thou might shew thy judgement the sooner?

The creature may not haste above the maker; neither may the world hold them at once that shall be created therein.

Like as a young child may not bring forth the things that belong to the aged, even so have I disposed the world which I created.

Seeing thou hast now given me the way, I will proceed to speak before thee: for our mother, of whom thou hast told me that she is young, draw now nigh unto age.

I cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shall find it after many days. And gives a portion to seven, and also to eight; for thou know not what evil shall be upon the earth.

Create art. Not just an art, but thermo fucking nuclear art.

Women can rob a man of sense faster than Appalachian jug whiskey.

Fight not with them at the Sacred Mosque until they fight with you in it; So if they fight you (in it), slay them. Such is the recompense of the disbelievers.

For I stand forth to challenge the wisdom of the world; to interrogate the "laws" of man and "You"! Compton

As environments change, no human ideal standeth sure! Compton

As thou know not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child: even so thou know not the works of what makes all.

In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou know not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good.

These be they that have put off the mortal clothing, and put on the immortal, and have confessed the name of God: now are they crowned, and receive palms.

Go thy way, weigh me the weight of the fire, or measure me the blast of the wind, or call me again the day that is past.

What man is able to do that, that thou should ask such things of me?

It were better that we were not at all, than that we should live still in wickedness, and to suffer, and not to know wherefore.

Why the law of our forefathers are brought to nought, and the written covenants come to none effect-

In Woman, Church and State (1893), she offered a feminist reading of the witch-hunts: “When for ‘witches’ we read ‘women,’ we gain fuller comprehension of the cruelties inflicted by the church upon this portion of humanity.”42 Gage inspired the character of Glinda, the good witch in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, which was written by her son-in-law, L. Frank Baum.

Ask the womb of a woman, and say unto her, If thou bring forth children, why dost thou it not together, but one after another? pray her therefore to bring forth ten children at once.

There shall be confusion also in many places, and the fire shall be oft sent out again, and the wild beasts shall change their places, and menstruate women shall bring forth monsters:

If the clouds be full of rain, they empty themselves upon the earth: and if the tree falls toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falls, there it shall be.

And yet their reward appear not, and their labor had no fruit: for I have gone here and there through the heathen, and I see that they flow in wealth, and think not upon thy commandments.

Whenever, therefore, a lie has built unto itself a throne, let it be assailed without pity and without regret, for under the domination of an inconvenient falsehood, no one can prosper. Compton

When was it that they who dwell upon the earth have not sinned in thy sight? or what people have so kept thy commandments? Thou shall find that you all by name had kept thy precepts; but not the heathen.

Nevertheless now have I asked thee but only of the fire and wind, and of the day where-through thou hast passed, and of things from which thou canst not be separated, and yet canst thou give me no answer of them.

I remember once when I was young, and I was coming back from some place, a movie or something. I was on the subway and there was a girl sitting across from me and she was wearing this dress that was bottoned queer up right to here, she was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I was shy then, so when she would look at me I would look away, then afterwards when I would look back she would look away. Then I got to where I was gonna get off, and got off, the doors closed, and as the train was pulling away she looked right at me and gave me the most incredible smile. It was awful, I wanted to tear the doors open. And I went back every night, same time, for two weeks, but she never showed up. That was 30 years ago and I don't think that theres a day that goes by that I don't think about her, I don't want that to happen again. Just one dance ?.

He was the one, however, with whom no one wanted his or her picture taken, the one to whom no one wanted to introduce his son or daughter. Louis and Gage knew him; they had met him and faced him down in New England, some time ago. He was waiting to choke you on a marble, to smother you with a dry-cleaning bag, to sizzle you into eternity with a fast and lethal boggie of electricity—Available at Your Nearest Switchplate or Vacant Light Socket Right Now. There was death in a quarter bag of peanuts, an aspirated piece of steak, the next pack of cigarettes. He was around all the time, he monitored all the checkpoints between the mortal and the eternal. Dirty needles, poison beetles, downed live wires, forest fires. Whirling roller skates that shot nurdy little kids into busy intersections. When you got into the bathtub to take a shower, Oz got right in there too—Shower with a Friend. When you got on an airplane, Oz took your boarding pass. He was in the water you drank, the food you ate. Who’s out there? you howled into the dark when you were frightened and all alone, and it was his answer that came back: Don’t be afraid, it’s just me. Hi, howaya? You got cancer of the bowel, what a bummer, so solly, Cholly! Septicemia! Leukemia! Atherosclerosis! Coronary thrombosis! Encephalitis! Osteomyelitis! Hey-ho, let’s go! Junkie in a doorway with a knife. Phone call in the middle of the night. Blood cooking in battery acid on some exit ramp in North Carolina. Big handfuls of pills, munch em up. That peculiar blue cast of the fingernails following asphyxiation—in its final grim struggle to survive the brain takes all the oxygen that is left, even that in those living cells under the nails. Hi, folks, my name’s Oz the Gweat and Tewwible, but you can call me Oz if you want—hell, we’re old friends by now. Just stopped by to whop you with a little congestive heart failure or a cranial blood clot or something; can’t stay, got to see a woman about a breach birth, then I’ve got a little smoke-inhalation job to do in Omaha. And that thin voice is crying, “I love you, Tigger! I love you! I believe in you, Tigger! I will always love you and believe in you, and I will stay young, and the only Oz to ever live in my heart will be that gentle faker from Nebraska! I love you . . .” We cruise . . . my son and I . . . because the essence of it isn’t war or sex but only that sickening, noble, hopeless battle against Oz the Gweat and Tewwible. He and I, in our white van under this bright Florida sky, we cruise. And the red flasher is hooded, but it is there if we need it . . . and none need know but us because the soil of a man’s heart is stonier; a man grows what he can . . . and tends it.

As thou hast said unto thy servant, that thou, which gives life to all, hast given life at once to the creature that thou hast created, and the creature bare it: even so it might now also bear them that now be present at once.

el pensamiento dominante consideraba que el cerebro y el alma eran dos entidades separadas, una filosofía denominada «dualismo». Pero cada vez estaba más claro que los daños en el lóbulo frontal del cerebro habían provocado cambios abruptos en la personalidad de Gage. Lo cual, a su vez, dio pie a un cambio de paradigma en el pensamiento científico: quizá fuese posible establecer vínculos entre zonas específicas del cerebro y determinados comportamientos.

Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun: But if a man live many years, and rejoice in them all; yet let him remember the days of darkness; for they shall be many. And all that cometh is vanity.

Refusing to listen to him any longer, Julian backs up. “Whenever you realize working together is in Summer’s best interest, come find me, Boy Scout. Until then, I’ll just pretend you don’t exist.” Then he walks away. Gage glares at Julian’s retreating form. His hand scrapes through his hair as he fumes. A guttural roar of rage crawls up his throat, and he kicks the sand. Damn him and his stupid logic. He’s right. And Gage knows he’s right. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Thine own things, and such as are grown up with thee, canst thou not know; How should thy vessel then be able to comprehend the way of the Highest, and, the world being now outwardly corrupted to understand the corruption that is evident in my sight?

XANDER: No one writes letters anymore. DRACULA: I do. With a quill pen and Higgins Eternal Ink in painstaking calligraphy. And what do I receive in return? Nothing! I will no be ignored! I am darkness made flesh! I am the lord of the night! I am Dracula!

If Hoover had decided to step down at that moment in 1959, after thirty-five years at the FBI’s helm, we might remember him differently: as a popular and well-respected government official, often cruel and controversial but a hero to more Americans than not. Instead, he stayed on through the 1960s and emerged as one of history’s great villains, perhaps the most universally reviled American political figure of the twentieth century. His abuses and excesses, from the secret manipulations of COINTELPRO to his deep-seated racism, offer a troubling case study in unaccountable government power.

She expected the ornery tiger to get mad and snarl at her, instead he did something much worse. One side of his lips curled up in smug satisfaction, and the bastard smirked at her. “I may no longer live in a time period where one person can actually own another person, but make no mistake, love, I do own you. Every little inch. Every breathy moan you give me when I’m playing with your pretty pussy. Every hungry kiss you give me when I’m buried deep inside you. Every beat of that stubborn heart that you swear doesn’t still love me, and every inch of that fierce soul of yours… They all belong to one person. Me.” - Gage

Want a sandwich?” Mac shook her head. “I’m going to have dinner with Gage when he gets home.” Who said anything about dinner? This was more like an appetizer. That was another perk that came with being a werewolf. She could eat whatever she wanted and not have to worry about extra calories ending up where they shouldn’t. Khaki set everything on the counter. “I asked Xander flat-out when I went over to his place last night. He insisted he liked me just fine, but I knew he was lying. I could tell he was really uncomfortable around me. He was tense and on edge the whole time. Which is nothing new. He’s like that all the time around me. I think he finds me irritating and a nuisance.” Mac gave her a dubious look. “If you say so. But either way, you’d better be careful. If being with Gage has taught me anything, it’s that werewolves are extremely affected by certain pheromones. If you go walking around lusting over Xander, he’s going to pick up on it— and so is every other guy on the team. Then things will get really complicated. I learned that the hard way. Those guys can pick up on arousal like it’s barbecue and they aren’t shy about letting you know it.” Khaki groaned as she grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “Oh, God. I never thought about that.” “Yeah. And it gets worse.” Mac shook her head. “If I’m even slightly aroused and Gage picks up on it, he gets crazy horny— like he-can’t-control-it horny. What do you think is going to happen to if all the guys on the team pick up on the fact that the one and only female werewolf on the team is aroused? You’ll find yourself getting chased by fifteen out-of-control, horny werewolves going crazy with lust. And while there are some women who might find that entertaining, something tells me you wouldn’t.” Khaki set the plate on the counter with a thud. “Oh, crap. What the hell am I going to do?” Mac offered her a small smile. “Take a lot of baths?

Howe's first object is, partly by threats and partly by promises, to terrify or seduce the people to deliver up their arms and receive mercy. The ministry recommended the same plan to Gage, and this is what the tories call making their peace, "a peace which passeth all understanding" indeed! A peace which would be the immediate forerunner of a worse ruin than any we have yet thought of. Ye men of Pennsylvania, do reason upon these things! Were the back counties to give up their arms, they would fall an easy prey to the Indians, who are all armed: this perhaps is what some Tories would not be sorry for. Were the home counties to deliver up their arms, they would be exposed to the resentment of the back counties who would then have it in their power to chastise their defection at pleasure. And were any one state to give up its arms, that state must be garrisoned by all Howe's army of Britons and Hessians to preserve it from the anger of the rest. Mutual fear is the principal link in the chain of mutual love, and woe be to that state that breaks the compact. Howe is mercifully inviting you to barbarous destruction, and men must be either rogues or fools that will not see it. I dwell not upon the vapors of imagination; I bring reason to your ears, and, in language as plain as A, B, C, hold up truth to your eyes.

Number me the things that are not yet come- gather me together the dross that are scattered abroad- make me the flowers green again that are withered- Open me the places that are closed, and bring me forth the winds that in them are shut up- shew me the image of a voice: and then I will declare to thee the thing that thou labor to know.

If I should ask thee how great dwellings are in the midst of the sea, or how many springs are in the beginning of the deep, or how many springs are above the firmament, or which are the outgoings of paradise: Peradventure thou would say unto me, ‘I never went down into the deep, nor as yet into hell, neither did I ever climb up into heaven.

I dinna expect your thanks. ’Tis not why I stole ye away from Steafan.” She rolled her eyes, but this time with affection instead of annoyance. “Duh, I know that. You’re so darned honorable you’d never do anything for something as paltry as my thanks. It’s not just about thanks. I love you, you stubborn Highlander.” She cupped her hand over her mouth. The ornery thing had just blurted that which she had yet to fully admit to herself. Considering how much it hurt to have Darcy reject her physical advances, she was in no mood to bear his inevitable rejection of her heart. Mortified, she turned to run away. But his arms went around her. He hadn’t lied when he’d claimed to be quicker. “Do ye mean that, lass?” he asked, bending over her back, holding her. “No,” she lied, trying to pry his arms away. “I’m out of my mind. Don’t listen to a thing I say. Let me go.” “No. I willna. And I think a confession spoken in ire is more trustworthy than one spoken in calm.” He turned her around and lifted her face to his. “I love you, too, lass.” He kissed her.

Two hours later, Revere trotted into Lexington, his mount thoroughly lathered after outgalloping a pair of Gage’s equestrian sentinels near Charlestown. Veering north toward the Mystic River to avoid further trouble, Revere had alerted almost every farmstead and minute captain within shouting distance. Popular lore later credited him with a stirring battle cry—“The British are coming!”—but a witness quoted him as warning, more prosaically, “The regulars are coming out.” Now he carried the alarm to the Reverend Jonas Clarke’s parsonage, just up the road from Lexington Common. Here Clarke had written three thousand sermons in twenty years; here he called up the stairs each morning to rouse his ten children—“Polly, Betsey, Lucy, Liddy, Patty, Sally, Thomas, Jonas, William, Peter, get up!” And here he had given sanctuary, in a bedroom to the left of the front door, to the renegades Hancock and Samuel Adams. A squad of militiamen stood guard at the house as Revere dismounted, spurs clanking. Two warnings had already come from the east: as many as nine mounted British officers had been seen patrolling the Middlesex roads, perhaps “upon some evil design.” At the door, a suspicious orderly sergeant challenged Revere, and Clarke blocked his path until Hancock reportedly called out, “Come in, Revere, we’re not afraid of you.” The herald delivered his message: British regulars by the hundreds were coming out, first by boat, then on foot. There was not a moment to lose.

There are seven occult kingdoms in the universe, which are the kingdoms of Satan and the fallen angels. There are various planes, zones, realms and centers as well as deities, gods and lords. The Five Cosmic Seals (occult levels) are the universal summary of the 400,000 categories of occult initiations, powers and demons (Astrometaphysical Operations). There are male and female, neuter and mermaid spirits (demons or Cosmic Forces).

He’d loved her when he’d wed her. And now, after being wed for more than a year, seeing her through the birth of their cherub of a daughter, and making a home for the three of them in Dornoch, he loved her more than he’d ever imagined possible. Would he love her even more in another year? Ten years from now? When their children were grown, like Wilhelm and Constance’s? Aye. He kent he would. How could he not? She was his wife, his mate.

There are occult Esoteric Metaphysics (the secret and most confidential aspect of occult teachings) and Mystical Sciences practiced by mystical adepts, Living Grand Masters. This is the cosmological verdict of the Order of Astral and Terrestrial Hierarchy universal occult recognition. Exoteric is public occult teachings. An Adept uses the Technique of the Master. Hell is called After-Life-Hallucination. There are entities, spirits, demons, demi-gods, Archangels and other names for evil beings. A Guru is a spiritual Master.

I went into a forest into a plain, and the trees took counsel- And said, Come, let us go and make war against the sea that it may depart away before us, and that we may make us more woods. The floods of the sea also in like manner took counsel, and said, Come, let us go up and subdue the woods of the plain, that there also we may make us another country. The thought of the wood was in vain, for the fire came and consumed it. The thought of the floods of the sea came likewise to nought, for the sand stood up and stopped them. If thou wart judge now betwixt these two, whom would thou begin to justify? or whom would thou condemn?

In 1861, just a year after Gage’s death, this view was further cemented through the work of Pierre Paul Broca, a physician in Paris who documented a patient who appeared normal except that he had a severe speech deficit. The patient could understand and comprehend speech perfectly, but he could utter only one sound, the word “tan.” After the patient died, Dr. Broca confirmed during the autopsy that the patient suffered from a lesion in his left temporal lobe, a region of the brain near his left ear. Dr. Broca would later confirm twelve similar cases of patients with damage to this specific area of the brain. Today patients who have damage to the temporal lobe, usually in the left hemisphere, are said to suffer from Broca’s aphasia. (In general, patients with this disorder can understand speech but cannot say anything, or else they drop many words when speaking.) Soon afterward, in 1874, German physician Carl Wernicke described patients who suffered from the opposite problem. They could articulate clearly, but they could not understand written or spoken speech. Often these patients could speak fluently with correct grammar and syntax, but with nonsensical words and meaningless jargon. Sadly, these patients often didn’t know they were spouting gibberish. Wernicke confirmed after performing autopsies that these patients had suffered damage to a slightly different area of the left temporal lobe.

A few scrapes, my ass,” she muttered, wringing her shaking hands. Constance shoved a bulb of garlic at her. “They’re Highlanders, dear. They’ll get themselves stabbed, dragged through a briar patch, thrown over a cliff, and punched in the face all before breakfast and call it ‘a fair interesting morn’.’ Now, peel those and put the cloves in the hot water.” The older woman nodded toward the steaming kettle a maid had deposited on the hearth. “Garlic water cleans wounds better than plain water and keeps infection away.” She latched onto the competence Constance radiated. While calming her with brisk assurances that all would be well, the older woman deftly deployed a small army of castle servants on various missions relating to “doctoring a bone-headed Highland husband.

What are ye doing, lass?” His voice was so soft and close in the darkness, it made her shiver. She forgot all about the hard floor. “I always imagined that once I got married, I’d finally know what it was like to spend the night in a man’s arms. Will you hold me, so I can feel what that’s like? I won’t ask for more than that. Just hold me.” He rolled to face her and touched her cheek. “Ah, lass,” he sighed. “How can I deny you when you ask so sweetly? If ’tis holding ye want, holding you shall get. But the floor is no place for you and your bairn. Up in the bed with you.” “It’s no place for a married man, either,” she said, smiling at her small victory. He sighed again, a sound heavy with sentiment she could only guess at. She climbed under the blankets and held them up for him, but he was taking his sweet time. “Are you coming?” “Aye, lass. Just donning my plaid.” She bit back a huff of frustration. She determined to enjoy what little affection he would give her and didn’t want to push her luck by asking for more. Her hormones would have to learn patience; this was going to be a painfully slow seduction. When Darcy slipped into bed, bare-chested, but wrapped in layers of wool from the waist down, she cuddled into his open arms. All her frustration drained away as he gathered her in and the heat of his chest turned her into a melty puddle of contentment. She nestled her nose into the tuft of hair between his mounded pectorals and inhaled his scent of saddle leather and faint, masculine musk. Beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes rolled back in her head with bliss.

He frowned down at her. “You need to settle down and listen to me.” “You need to fuck off and—” She never got the next word out because he flipped her over on her stomach. While she cursed and tried to move him he tied her hands together with something, then wrapped some silky cloth around her head, forcing it between her lips. Bound and gagged, he moved her back over so she was on her back again. Beyond pissed, she struggled against her bindings, trying to get free so she could kill him. To her disgust he just grinned and watched her writhe on her mattress until she finally lay there in a sweaty, panting heap, with her hands still bound and her mouth still gaged. “Done with your tantrum?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Fuck you,” she said, or at least tried to say. It must have come through loud and clear because he smiled at her, a predatory smile that actually made her wet. Damn her hormones had bad taste and timing. He licked his lips and her pussy throbbed. “Oh, you’ll be begging me to fuck you by the time I’m done with you.” She glared, then rolled over on her stomach so she could flip him off with both bound hands. “See, this is why I love you. I love you, Amanda. You’re it for me. All I want, the only woman I want.” He leaned down and brushed her hair back from her face with a gentle touch. “Hold still and I’ll let you up. I’m sorry if I scared you.” “Wait,” she said in a garbled voice. “You love me?” He smiled and began to unbutton his shirt, slowly, revealing his magnificent body an inch at a time. “That’s right, I love you. I love how brave you are, how smart, how classy and yet at the same time you can cuss up a blue streak. I love how you take care of me, how I’m the only one who gets to see the soft, feminine side of you that comes out when you make love. I love your temper, your kindness, and how you devour me with your eyes, like you want to eat me alive. Kind of like you’re doing right now.” “I don’t love you,” she mumbled through the gag. “Liar,” he whispered into her ear, tracing the shell with the tip of his tongue.

The door was still open, so I shut it and was returning to my desk when I braked. There was a backpack resting on the other side of my desk chair. It wasn’t mine. It wasn’t Missy’s. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Holly’s or the cousin’s. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “Huh?” she barked, her head swinging around to me. A quick glance confirmed what I already knew. She was drunk. “Nothing.” She pulled out one of her shirts, but it wasn’t her normal pajama top. She was really drunk. I picked up Shay’s bag and checked the contents to make sure it was his. It was. I saw his planner with his name scrawled at the top, so I zipped that bag and put it in the back of my closet. No one needed to go through it. I didn’t think Missy would, but I just never knew. Dropping into my chair, I picked up my phone to text Shay as Missy fell to the floor. I looked up to watch. I couldn’t not see this. I was tempted to video it, but I was being nice. For once. As Missy wrestled with her jeans and lifted them over her head to throw into her closet, I texted Shay. Me: You left your bag here. Missy let out a half-gurgled moan and a cry of frustration at the same time. She didn’t stand, instead crawling to the closet. She grabbed another pair of pants. Those weren’t her pajamas, either. As she pulled them on—or tried since her feet kept eluding the pants’ hole—my phone buzzed back. Coleman: Can I pick it up in the morning? I texted back. Me: When? Missy got one leg in. Success. I wanted to thrust my fist in the air for her. My phone buzzed again. Coleman: Early. My playbook is in there. I groaned. Me: When is early? I’m in college, Coleman. Sleeping in is mandatory. Coleman: Nine too early for you? I can come back to get it now. Nine was doable. Me: Let’s do an exchange. You bring me coffee, and I’ll meet you at the parking lot curb with your bag. Coleman: Done. Decaf okay? I glared at my phone. Me: Back to hating you. Coleman: Never stop that. The world’s equilibrium will be fucked up. I have to know what’s right and wrong. Don’t screw with my moral compass, Cute Ass. Oh, no! No way. Me: Third rule of what we don’t talk about. No nicknames unless they reconfirm our mutual dislike for each other. No Cute Ass. His response was immediate. Coleman: Cunt Ass? A second squeak from me. Me: NO! I could almost hear him laughing. Coleman: Relax. I know. Clarke’s Ass. That’s how you are in my phone. The tension left my shoulders. Me: See you in the morning. 9 sharp. Coleman: Night. I put my phone down, but then it buzzed once again. Coleman: Ass. I was struggling to wipe this stupid grin off my face. All was right again. I plugged my phone in, pulled my laptop back toward me, and sent a response to Gage’s email. I’ll sit with you, but only if we’re in the opposing team’s section. He’d be pissed, but that was the only way. I turned the computer off, and by then Missy was climbing up the ladder in a bright pink silk shirt. The buttons were left buttoned, and her pajama bottoms were a pair of corduroy khakis. I was pretty sure she didn’t brush her teeth, but before my head even hit the pillow, she was snoring