Hon Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Hon. Here they are! All 200 of them:

Ya need some girlfriends, hon, ’cause they’re furever. Without a vow. A clutch of women’s the most tender, most tough place on Earth.
Delia Owens (Where the Crawdads Sing)
She still wasn't convinced. "So, if you were a guy, would you be into me?" "Hon, if I were a guy, I'd be gay." "Yeah, me, too.
Darynda Jones (Fifth Grave Past the Light (Charley Davidson, #5))
I was never really certain why he scared the bejesus out of me. Nothing scared me growing up. I’ve been playing with dead people since the day I was born, so it’s good thing, yet the Big Bad scared me. Which brings me to the reason I called.” “Which was to give me nightmares for the rest of my life?” “Oh, no, that’s just a plus. Why was I so scared of him?” “Hon, for one thing he was this powerful, massive, black smokelike being.” “So, you’re saying I’m a racist?
Darynda Jones (Third Grave Dead Ahead (Charley Davidson, #3))
A toast to the birthday boy!' Myrna shouted. 'Welcome to the adult world, hon. It's lonely, it's miserable, and God help you. But there are bright spots, and nights like tonight are one of them.
Natalie Standiford (How to Say Goodbye in Robot)
So just look mean and don’t make eye contact with anyone. (Syn) Gee, hon, you take me to the most wonderful places. (Shahara)
Sherrilyn Kenyon (Born of Fire (The League: Nemesis Rising #2))
Hon, when someone's a true friend, there's no need to miss 'em." She patted her chest. "'Cause they're always right here.
Kirby Larson (Hattie Big Sky (Hattie, #1))
Family is just accident, Jessie. It's nothing personal, hon. They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are.
Marsha Norman ('night, Mother)
You can’t compare one person’s coping capacity to another, hon.
Maggie Stiefvater (The Raven King (The Raven Cycle, #4))
If you weren't taken, I'd date you myself." "Which one of us were you talking to, hon?" "I think she meant the [hot] dog.
Chloe Neill (Some Girls Bite (Chicagoland Vampires, #1))
Just be careful, hon,” Rosanna said. “Oh, are the plates hot?” I flinched back just before my hands made contact. Rosanna laughed. “No, but hot boys can burn you just as easily.
C.J. Duggan (The Boys of Summer (Summer, #1))
Oh no, hon we were too late. Tiger-boy done pissed down the wrong honey tree and got all the bees, or in this case, bears, going wild. (Fury)
Sherrilyn Kenyon (Unleash the Night (Dark Hunter, #8; Were-Hunter, #2))
Pecans are not cheap, my hons. In fact, in the South, the street value of shelled pecans just before holiday baking season is roughly that of crack cocaine. Do not confuse the two. It is almost impossible to make a decent crack cocaine tassie, I am told.
Celia Rivenbark (You Can't Drink All Day If You Don't Start in the Morning)
Heart turned to me, his face thought­ful. “Yes­ter­day morn­ing. Yes, that means that Daphne hadn’t been home for two days be­fore that.” He smiled at me. “You were sup­posed to be the Al­pha’s eye can­dy.” Adam laughed. “What?” I asked him. “You don’t think I’d be good eye can­dy?” I looked down at my over­alls and grease-​stained hands. I’d torn an­oth­er nail to the quick. “Hon­ey is eye can­dy,” said Ben apolo­get­ical­ly. “You’re . . . just you.” “Mine,” said Adam, edg­ing be­tween Heart and me. “Mine is what she is.
Patricia Briggs (Silver Borne (Mercy Thompson, #5))
Han var en man av svart och vitt. Och hon var färg. All hans färg
Fredrik Backman (En man som heter Ove)
Men naturen har förlänat människan med den lyckliga förmågan att glömma. Annars skulle hon inte stå ut med livet
Hjalmar Söderberg (Den allvarsamma leken)
What do I need to get you into my bed?" Logan asked boldly. Tate couldn't help the laugh escaping his mouth at Logan's directness. "A vagina?" He raised a brow at the man. Releasing his arm, Logan took a step back and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear. "Hi hon." He then met Tate's eyes and smirked as he mouthed, A vagina I can get.
Ella Frank (Try (Temptation, #1))
...Neferet fell smack on her butt.
P.C. Cast (Chosen (House of Night, #3))
A thirteen-year-old is a kaleidoscope of different personalities, if not in most ways a mere figment of her own imagination. At that age, what and who you are depends largely on what book you happen to be reading at the moment.
Jessica Mitford (Hons and Rebels)
Oh, no! I promise it's not human," Mom bats her hands in the air in an effort to wrangle them back into their seats. "It's newborn calf." "Oh, Hon, we don't do baby legs neither.
Addison Moore (Expel (Celestra, #6))
We watch movies while Uncle Reyes makes cockporn.” Everyone in the immediate area stilled while Reyes and I pressed our mouths together, trying not to crack up. This was a serious situation, and cracking up now would just be wrong. “Popcorn, honey,” Amador said. Then he looked at Bianca. “Hon, she really needs to learn how to say that word.
Darynda Jones (Eighth Grave After Dark (Charley Davidson, #8))
Oh, hon, it's the little courtesies that make life bearable, I find, wouldn't you agree?
Andrew Ashling (The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse #1))
who could blame her for that? he personally couldn't think of any woman who would welcome that news. Hey hon, guess what? your son that you nurtured in your body for nine months and then sacrificed your life and dignity to raise is destined to end th world. Aren't you proud?
Sherrilyn Kenyon (Infamous (Chronicles of Nick, #3))
Hon, falling in love is easy. Staying in love is the tough part." ~Faith Barnett from Texas Tangle
Leah Braemel
What time do you need to be at work tomorrow, Hon?' Lexi asks. Well, Ruby's back, so nine o'clock.' What does Ruby being back have to do with anything?' She's the human stopwatch, remember? Marriage doesn't change everything.
Erynn Mangum (Rematch (Lauren Holbrook, #2))
...Baltimore. It's imperfect. Boy, is it imperfect. And there are parts of its past that make you wince. It's not all marble steps and waitresses calling you 'hon,' you know. Racial strife in the sixties, the riots during the Civil War. F. Scott Fitzgerald said it was civilized and gay, rotted and polite. The terms are slightly anachronistic now, but I think he was essentially right.
Laura Lippman (Hardly Knew Her)
Will I like it Jake? In your place?" "I hope so, hon." "Is it very different?" I smiled. "People pay more for gasoline and have more buttons to push. Otherwise, it's about the same.
Stephen King (11/22/63)
I ordered a cheeseburger and a beer from a waitress who looked as though she wanted to be in one of those want-to-get-away? commercials. She called me hon. I love when a waitress calls me hon.
Harlan Coben (The Woods)
Hush, child. Don't be so hard on yourself. Everyone gets to start over again. This America, hon. One dream dies, you get another.
Gary Shteyngart (Lake Success)
As far as it is possible for one upright Christian gentleman to dislike another upright Christian gentleman, Lord Caterham disliked the Hon. George Lomax.
Agatha Christie (The Secret of Chimneys (Superintendent Battle, #1))
I have to tell you hon, I don't mind a little teasing now and then, but I'm no masochist and I'm sure as hell no saint...here lately, being around you is agony.
Jackson Broussard
A smile crept to her lips. “What does the ‘F’ stand for?” she asked. He blinked a moment in confusion, and then recalled the nameplate on his desk: Hon. F. Darcy. “What do you think it stands for?” he countered. “Do you really have any doubt what I think it stands for?” she said, smirking. “Contrary to popular belief, my mother did not name me F*cker. It’s Fitzwilliam.
Sara Angelini (The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy)
... I want a guy in my life. I want a partner, and kids. I’d go gay for you, hon, but adoption is expensive. And then there’s the matter of your not having a dick.” “It’s always something with you.
Sarina Bowen (Rookie Move (Brooklyn Bruisers, #1))
Hon hade lärt sig älska kärleken med all dess plåga, dess tårar, dess längtan . - Bättre sorgsen med den än glad utan den, sade hon.
Selma Lagerlöf (Gösta Berling's Saga)
Người ta/rất nên/chế tạo ra tương lai/trên trái đất tí hon này ! dù phải tốn/hàng tấn đại dương nước mắt !
Trần Dần (Đi! Đây Việt Bắc!)
But truth be told, I'm not as dour-looking as I would like. I'm stuck with this round, sweetie-pie face, tiny heart-shaped lips, the daintiest dimples, and apple cheeks so rosy I appear in a perpetual blush. At five foot four, I barely squeak by average height. And then there's my voice: straight out of second grade. I come across so young and innocent and harmless that I have been carded for buying maple syrup. Tourists feel more safe approaching me for directions, telemarketers always ask if my mother is home, and waitresses always, always call me 'Hon.
Sarah Vowell (Take the Cannoli)
The new captain looked up. Oh, good grief, Vimes thought. It's bloody Rust this time round! And it was indeed the Hon. Ronald Rust, the god's gift to the enemy, any enemy, and a walking encouragement to desertion. The Rust family had produced great soldiers, by the undemanding standards of 'Deduct your own casualties from those of the enemy, and if the answer is a positive number, it was a glorious victory' school of applied warfare. But Rust's lack of any kind of military grasp was matched only by his high opinion of the talent he in fact possessed only in negative amounts.
Terry Pratchett (Night Watch (Discworld, #29; City Watch, #6))
Kisi ko apni zindagi k poshidah goshay dikha kar ye kehna k ' daikho men ne tm par aitabar kiya hai...meray aitabar ko totnay na daina' uske toheen aur tazleel karny k matradif hai...men samjhta hon k insan ya to kise par aitabar kary nahi...aur agr kary to phr pora aitabar kary...ye kch aitabar aur kch bay aitabari wali kefiat dono fareqon k lye takleef dah hoti hai.
Farhat Ishtiaq (Dil Se Niklay Hain Jo Lafz / دل سے نکلے ہیں جو لفظ)
Hoping to soothe her, Joe said, "Whatever it is I'll get it. Just tell me." "Tampons." Joe stalled. Tampons. But she was only... well, fourteen. He had no idea when young ladies needed such things. He said, "Uh...' "I know," she all but wailed. "I'm sorry. But there aren't any here, and you're already there." "Yeah, of course." He glanced at Austin. "No problem at all, hon." He swallowed. "Any particular kind?" ... Hell, he could kick ass on felons, play bodyguard and bounty hunter, so surely he could buy a stupid box of tampons.
Lori Foster (Say No To Joe? (Visitation, North Carolina, #1))
I plastered on my best poker face, attempting to appear cool and casual even thought I had never been so eager to deliver two Chicken Parmagianas in my life. "Just be careful, hon," Rosanna said. "Oh, are the plates hot?" I flinched back just before my hands made contact. Rosanna laughed. "No, but hot boys can burn just as easily.
C.J. Duggan (The Boys of Summer (Summer, #1))
I get a message from my dad. In the mood I'm in, I tear up to see his name in my inbox, and imagine him down the hall in bed, propped on pillows, emailing me. "Hon, Enjoyed our gelato date the other night. I just want to say I'm proud of you for a lot of reasons. Also, I've attached a picture of my foot." He's such a weirdo goofball. I love him.
Sara Zarr (Roomies)
People's hearts are opened when they speak freely.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Fly! ropade muminmamman. Polisen är här! Hon visste inte vad hennes mumintroll hade gjort men var alldeles säker på att hon gillade det.
Tove Jansson
Off To The Races" My old man is a bad man but I can't deny the way he holds my hand And he grabs me, he has me by my heart He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past He doesn't mind I have an LA crass way about me He loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart Swimming pool glimmering darling White bikini off with my red nail polish Watch me in the swimming pool bright blue ripples you Sitting sipping on your black Cristal Oh yeah Light of my life, fire of my loins Be a good baby, do what I want Light of my life, fire of my loins Give me them gold coins, gimme them coins And I'm off to the races, cases of Bacardi chasers Chasing me all over town Cause he knows I'm wasted, facing Time again at Riker's Island and I won't get out Because I'm crazy, baby I need you to come here and save me I'm your little scarlet, starlet singing in the garden Kiss me on my open mouth Ready for you My old man is a tough man but He's got a soul as sweet as blood red jam And he shows me, he knows me Every inch of my tar black soul He doesn't mind I have a flat broke down life In fact he says he thinks it's why he might like about me Admires me, the way I roll like a Rolling Stone Likes to watch me in the glass room bathroom, Chateau Marmont Slippin' on my red dress, puttin' on my makeup Glass film, perfume, cognac, lilac Fumes, says it feels like heaven to him Light of his life, fire of his loins Keep me forever, tell me you own me Light of your life, fire of your loins Tell me you own me, gimme them coins And I'm off to the races, cases of Bacardi chasers Chasing me all over town Cause he knows I'm wasted, facing Time again at Riker's Island and I won't get out Because I'm crazy, baby I need you to come here and save me I'm your little scarlet, starlet singing in the garden Kiss me on my open mouth Now I'm off to the races, laces Leather on my waist is tight and I am fallin' down I can see your face is shameless, Cipriani's basement Love you but I'm going down God I'm so crazy, baby, I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island Raising hell all over town Sorry 'bout it My old man is a thief and I'm gonna stay and pray with him 'til the end But I trust in the decision of the Lord to watch over us Take him when he may, if he may I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him Who else is gonna put up with me this way? I need you, I breathe you, I never leave you They would rue the day I was alone without you You're lying with your gold chain on, cigar hanging from your lips I said "Hon' you never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man." And we're off to the races, places Ready, set the gate is down and now we're goin' in To Las Vegas chaos, Casino Oasis, honey it is time to spin Boy you're so crazy, baby, I love you forever not maybe You are my one true love, you are my one true love You are my one true love
Lana Del Rey
And if they could shoot the rusting thing,” Wayne added, “the bullet would be small as a flea.” Marasi sighed. “Wayne, can’t you ever let a joke die?” “Hon, that joke started dead,” he said. “I’m just givin’ it a proper burial.
Brandon Sanderson (The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn, #6))
You gotta come home. Be with me. After what we been through! We—we signed into that motel as man and wife! You put—you put your mouth on me." "Shoulda checked the fine print, hon," whispered Ellen Cherry, trying to assist him back onto the ivy vines as quietly as possible. "That blow job did not come with a lifetime warranty.
Tom Robbins (Skinny Legs and All)
I discovered that Human Nature was not, as I had always supposed, a fixed and unalterable entity, that wars are not caused by a natural urge in men to fight, that ownership of land and factories is not necessarily the natural reward of greater wisdom and energy.
Jessica Mitford (Hons and Rebels)
I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay. It's you and me against the word now, hon...You're my today, tomorrow and my forever if you'll still have me." - Brax
B.J. Harvey (Lost for You (Lost, #2))
Månljuset kastade skuggor på delar av hans vackra ansikte och hon tänkte att han liknade en ängel.
Marie Louise Andersson (Salt hav,salta tårar)
Hon fortsätter att vara död. Hon kommer alltid att vara död. Hon är den enda jag tänker på.
Sara Stridsberg (Drömfakulteten)
- Hon pluggar dubbelt. Har jag sagt det? Hon läser tyska också. - Vad ska hon bli då? - Va? - Ja, med all tyska och historia? Nazist?
Lydia Sandgren (Samlade verk)
You don't need a hat to tax a man with stealing a pig,' said the Hon. Galahad, who was well versed in the manners and rules of good society.
P.G. Wodehouse (Summer Lightning (Blandings Castle, #4))
Will I like it Jake? In your place?' 'I hope so, hon.' 'Is it very different?' I smiled. 'People pay more for gasoline and have more buttons to push. Otherwise, it's about the same.
Stephen King (11/22/63)
I want you to consider something, hon. What if it’s not possible for you to ever become thin? What if there is no one day? What if this is your real life right now? What if you’re already living it?
Sarai Walker (Dietland)
Varje gång hon kommenterade något blev det stumt. Hugo följde aldrig upp det Ester sa. Ester följde alltid upp det Hugo sa. Ingen av dem var riktigt intresserad av henne men båda var intresserade av honom.
Lena Andersson (Egenmäktigt förfarande)
I think I'm allergic or something. I feel kinda strange... sort of floaty and light-headed." "You ain't sick, hon," Mom said. She kissed me cheek and hugged me so tight I thought I might break a rib. "That's joy.
Meredith Russo
what good will it do to tell her her mother´s alive if her mother gets herself killed in the next hour?really?call me provincial, but to me it seems cruel to say, guess what?your mom´s alive. oh wait. she WAS alive. now she is dead again´cause our worthless asses couldn´t save her. sorry,hon. hope you´re ok with me jerking your emotions around and stomping on them. and while i´m at it, you got a newborn puppy i can kick too?
Sherrilyn Kenyon (Born of Shadows (The League, #4))
Yeah, so? I was ignorant, but I’m not a fucking moron. Why would I give the shit to you just so I could buy it back from you later?” I leaned back against the counter. “Hon, you’re fucking with the wrong chick. I’ve been around too many drug dealers to buy into a scheme like that.” He shocked me by bursting out laughing. “Drug dealers? Well, that’s an interesting analogy.” He shook his head but a sardonic smile stayed on his face.
Diana Rowland (My Life as a White Trash Zombie (White Trash Zombie, #1))
The world conforms people to a certain way of thinking and living through external influences such as advertising and fashion. But believers are being transformed by an indwelling life according to the divine 'DNA' from within.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Men en dag, en fruktansvärd och lycklig dag, skulle hon inte behöva orka mer, då skulle Olof också kunna klara sig. Då skulle hon ha rätt att vara trött, ha rätt att dö. Den dagen. Måtte den komma snart, måtte den aldrig komma.
Per Anders Fogelström (Barn av sin stad (Stadserien, #2))
Dessutom kunde jag inte glömma vad min syster en gång hade sagt till mig medan hon ammade: ''Att skaffa barn är som att skaffa sig en tatuering i ansiktet. Man måste vara bergsäker på att det är så man vill ha det innan man sätter igång.
Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia)
Ministering Christ to others so that Jesus might be reproduced and grow in people is the highest service to both God and man.
Henry Hon (One: Unfolding God’s Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Unity in the secular world and sadly among most Christian churches is based on uniformity of interest or viewpoints. The oneness in Jesus Christ crosses all boundaries and separations. Anyone with the faith of Jesus Christ can immediately enjoy the innate oneness with another who also has the faith of Jesus regardless of differing political or doctrinal views.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Ty naše schůze! A jak si na ně potrpíme! Každý den máme nějakou. Někdy i dvě. Všechno projednáme." ... "Vsadím se, že kdybych teď zatroubil na lasturu, byli by tu všichni jako na koni. Pak bychom náramně slavnostně porozprávěli a někdo by třeba navrhul, že si musíme postavit tryskáč nebo ponorku nebo televizi. A po schůzi by pět minut makali a pak by se rozutekli nebo by šli na hon.
William Golding (Lord of the Flies)
När hon kom ut från duschen, påklädd och med blött hår, tittade hon på mig med den där hoppfulla blicken, och jag tittade tillbaka som om jag inte kände igen henne. Helt tom. Jag såg hur hennes blick slocknade. Jag såg hur hennes kärlek till mig dog. Jag hade dödat den.
Jenny Han (We'll Always Have Summer (Summer, #3))
You know, hon, after Stephie died, we never really talked about her." she says, her hands tight around the cart handle. "There's a lot of pain there. Still. I guess we feel like we failed her. Like maybe if we were home instead of away at college, we could've done something to fix her. Something my patents and the doctors and her boyfriend missed. Sometimes I think I don't have the right to talk about her. Like at the end, I don't know her well enough to say anything. So much of her life became secret. She spent all of her time with her boyfriend, and when she was home, her nose was buried in her diary. I swear that diary was her best friend, even more than Megan." "Did you ever read it?" I ask. "No." "Not even after she died?" Aunt Rachel shakes her head, removing an eggplant from the middle row and pressing her fingers against its flesh. "To this day, I don't know if I would've, either. We never found it, Delilah. It's like she just…took it with her.
Sarah Ockler (Fixing Delilah)
When a person denies his conscience for too long, it can become seared. That person becomes susceptible to receiving and accepting all sorts of harmful and evil things. This is true for both believers and unbelievers. A seared conscience will open a person up to demonic spirits and activities.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Every believer is called to teach and each needs to exercise toward this function. Otherwise, they will remain a babe and never mature. Sharing what the believer has learned should begin as soon as a person comes to know the Lord.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
In my lifelong study of the scores of species of ants to be found in the tropical forests of Dal Hon, I am led to the conviction that all forms of life are engaged in a struggle to survive, and that within each species there exists a range of natural but variable proclivities, of physical condition and of behaviour, which in turn weighs for or against in the battle to survive and procreate. Further, it is my suspicion that in the act of procreation, such traits are passed on. By extension, one can see that ill traits reduce the likelihood of both survival and procreation. On the basis of these notions, I wish to propose to my fellow scholars at this noble gathering a law of survival that pertains to all forms of life. But before I do so, I must add one more caveat, drawn from the undeniable behavioural characteristics of, in my instance of speciality, ants. To whit, success of one form of life more often than not initiates devastating population collapse among competitors, and indeed, sometimes outright extinction. And that such annihilation of rivals may in fact be a defining feature of success. Thus, my colleagues, I wish to propose a mode of operation among all forms of life, which I humbly call-in my four-volume treatise-‘The Betrayal of the Fittest’. Obsessional Scrolls Sixth Day Proceedings Address Of Skavat Gill Unta, Malazan Empire, 1097 Burn's Sleep
Steven Erikson (Dust of Dreams (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #9))
man and a woman were approaching their 50th wedding anniversary. To celebrate, the woman decided she would cook a big dinner for her husband. Then he said they should do what they did on their wedding night, and eat at the dinner table naked. The woman agreed. On their anniversary night, at the table, the woman says, "Honey, my nipples are as hot for you as they were 50 years ago." The man replies, "Madge, hon, that's because they are sitting in your soup. ♦◊♦◊♦◊♦
Various (101 Dirty Jokes - sexual and adult's jokes)
Vad fruktar jag? Jag är en del utav oändligheten. Jag är en del av alltets stora kraft, en ensam värld inom miljoner världar, en första gradens stjärna lik som slocknar sist. Triumf att leva, triumf att andas, triumf att finnas till! Triumf att känna tiden iskall rinna genom sina ådror och höra nattens tysta flod och stå på berget under solen. Jag går på sol, jag står på sol, jag vet av ingenting annat än sol. Tid - förvandlerska, tid - förstörerska, tid - förtrollerska kommer du med nya ränker, tusen lister för att bjuda mig en tillvaro som ett litet frö, som en ringlad orm, som en klippa i havet? Tid - du mörderska - vik ifrån mig! Solen fyller upp mitt bröst med ljuvlig honung upp till randen och hon säger: en gång slockna alla stjärnor, men de lysa alltid utan skräck.
Edith Södergran
Never take offense. Even if someone is robbing you blind, it’s usually nothing personal. Survival is a funny thing, and we all react differently to it. Some react to fear and forget to be human and humane, but that doesn’t mean they have malicious intentions. People have different boundaries, and I promise to respect yours, hon.
J.D. Brewer (Vagabond)
She's just nervous, Paddy. Don't worry, hon," saidSharon , her lips pulled into a generous smile. Her eyes sparkled with warmth and sincerity. "I'm used to these neck nibblers." "No offense,Sharon . But I'd rather have the chocolate," I said. She laughed and slapped her thigh. "Hell's bells, Patrick! She's the reason you've had me eating these Godiva truffles all day?" I looked at Patrick. "You're mean." His black brows formed question marks. Then his lips curled into a smile. "No, not just mean. Cruel." "I had her eat truffles for you," he said. "Are you insane? How is her eating my chocolate in any way helpful?" Sharon chortled. "You might not be able to eat the truffle, sweetie, but you'll taste it. Prob'ly be the best chocolate you ever eat, too." I looked at Sharon , then at Patrick. "Are you telling me that she's gonna taste like chocolate?" "Yes.
Michele Bardsley (I'm the Vampire, That's Why (Broken Heart #1))
Behöver man vara rädd för den man har älskat? För jag älskade henne. Jag älskade henne verkligen. Det är sant. Men jag är ju inte rädd. Jag bara saknar henne. Först gjorde jag det inte. Ty inte saknar man det som inte finns. Nu vet jag att hon finns. Hon finns ini mig. Därför att hon älskade mig, finns hon ini mig. Därför skall jag låta henne stanna.
Stig Dagerman (A Burnt Child)
God became a real man, had a real birth, and had a real, physical body. This is an essential point of the Christian faith
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
The believer's job is to shine out Christ in their living and in their speaking.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
If your conscience objects, surely God also objects since He is even greater.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Many times when prayers are not answered, it is because they are conflicting with the will of God.
Henry Hon (One: Unfolding God’s Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Có những cái sai không thể sửa được. Chắp vá gượng ép chỉ càng làm sai thêm. Chỉ có cách là đừng bao giờ sai nữa, hoặc phải bù lại bằng một việc đúng khác.
Lưu Quang Vũ (Hồn Trương Ba, da hàng thịt: tuyển kịch)
Hon tycker det är orimligt att man inte får vara ledsen över att tiden går. Att man hela tiden gör något som inte kan göras om, att plötsligt dör man.
Josefine Klougart (Én af os sover)
I have to tell you, hon, I don't mind a little teasing now and then, but I'm no masochist, and I'm sure as hell no saint...and here lately, being around you is agonly.
Jackson Broussard
Beck, this is not a good idea, hon. Oh my God, that is one hot little piece of disaster right there. Walk away while you still can, Beck. Oh sh*t. It's already too late, isn't it?
Maris Black (Pinned (SSU Boys, #1))
Why got plans today, hon, and we got to check out, get home, shower, and if you get up now, we'll have enough time to f each other's brain out.
J. Lynn (Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3))
Also, hon, you may not have been as transparent with your advances as you believe. I’ve seen you, you’re not a skilled flirter. It’s usually hard to watch
Penny Reid (Neanderthal Seeks Human (Knitting in the City, #1))
Hon har kompisar, men de är människor man fördriver tiden med, inte människor man delar sin tid med.
David Levithan (Every Day (Every Day, #1))
Jag frågade mamma varför jag inte fått följa med henne den där kvällen. Hon svarade alltid samma sak. Hon tyckte så synd om pappa att hon gav honom det finaste hon hade
Åsa Linderborg (Mig äger ingen)
You, hon, need to start living out loud.
Barbara Claypole White (The Perfect Son)
Vi är allesammans fördömda", sa hon, "men somliga av oss har tagit av oss ögonbindlarna och sett att inget finns att se. Det är en slags frälsning.
Flannery O'Connor (A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories)
No offense, hon, but you flirt like it’s a form of espionage and you’ll be executed if you get caught.
Mira Grant (Into the Drowning Deep (Rolling in the Deep, #1))
Ah hon, we all have our own demons to fight, guardians or not.
C.K. Dawn (Cloak of Shadows (Netherwalker #1))
En naturkatastrof är hon. Nödtorftigt överdragen med människohud.
Sara Lidman (Lifsens rot (Jernbanan, #6))
We are all the sum of our lives, hon… and we all gotta carry a piece of crazy to the end.
S.A. Hunt (Malus Domestica (Malus Domestica, #1))
Jag vill inte dö, jag vill leva, men om hon dör finns det ingen plats för mig i den här världen.
Linn Ullmann (De urolige)
Trevlig långresa ner', sa hon innan hon hoppade upp på räcket och gled iväg som en klick smör i en stekpanna.
Leigh Bardugo (Six of Crows (Six of Crows, #1))
Ya need some girlfriends, hon, 'cause they're forever. Without a vow.
Delia Owens (Where the Crawdads Sing)
Hon kunde aldrig hänge sig helt åt något. Om hon älskade, ja, vad hon än gjorde, stod liksom ena hälften av hennes jag och såg på med ett kallt hånlöje.
Selma Lagerlöf (Gösta Berling's Saga)
– Organisation? sade hon. Vi söker ingen organisation. Det som är organiskt behöver inte organiseras. Ni bygger utifrån, vi byggs inifrån. Ni bygger med er själva som stenar och faller sönder utifrån och in. Vi byggs inifrån som träd och det växer ut broar mellan oss som inte är av död materia och dött tvång. Från oss går det levande ut. I er går det livlösa in.
Karin Boye (Kallocain)
The more believers are willing to leave their own comfort zone and be genuinely comfortable with people from diverse backgrounds, the more the Lord can use them to minister to others.
Henry Hon (One: Unfolding God’s Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Älskade Lillebror, vad är det som har hänt", sa hon och slog armarna om honom. "Krister har kastat sten på mej", sa Lillebror argt. "Nej, vet nån vad", sa mamma, "en sån elak pojke! Varför kom du inte in och sa till mej?" Lillebror ryckte på axlarna. "Vad skulle det vara bra för? Du kan ju inte kasta sten. Du skulle inte kunna pricka rätt på en lagårdsvägg ens en gång." "Å, din lilla dumbom", sa mamma. "Inte tror du väl att jag tänkte kasta sten på Krister heller!" "Vad skulle du annars kasta", undrade Lillebror. "Det finns inget annat, åtminstone inget som är lika bra.
Astrid Lindgren (Karlsson on the Roof)
Om jag blev ett sådant barn som »bara en mor kan älska« skulle det betyda att ingen längre älskade mig. Andras mammor tyckte nog synd om mig, föreställde jag mig. De skulle göra sitt bästa för att vara snälla. Men innerst inne var jag ingen mammas dotter. Ingen. Den känslan. Att jag var ingen. Eftersom hon som mindes alla dessa viktiga saker, mitt livs kronvittne, hon fanns inte längre.
Trude Lorentzen (Mysteriet mamma)
Det är ett faktum som ingen kan bestrida att hon under hela denna långa tid inte en dag vikit från min sida. Om dagarna har hon ständigt varit i mina tankar. Om nätterna har hon varit i mina drömmar.
Stig Dagerman (A Burnt Child)
Don't tell me about the Press. I know *exactly* who reads the papers. The Daily Mirror is read by the people who think they run the country. The Guardian is read by people who think they *ought* to run the country. The Times is read by the people who actually *do* run the country. The Daily Mail is read by the wives of the people who run the country. The Financial Times is read by people who *own* the country. The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by *another* country. The Daily Telegraph is read by the people who think it is.' "Prime Minister, what about the people who read The Sun?" "Sun readers don't care *who* runs the country - as long as she's got big tits.
Antony Jay (Yes, Prime Minister: The Diaries of the Right Hon. James Hacker)
Hon or We have both traveled from the other side of some hill, one side of which we may wish we could forget" Love me stupid. Love me terrible. And when I am no mountain but rather a monsoon of imperfect thunder love me. When I am blue in my face from swallowing myself yet wearing my best heart even if my best heart is a century of hunger an angry mule breathing hard or perhaps even hopeful. A small sun. Little & bright.
Anis Mojgani
Marcy soon entered the room with a plastic cup with a bright green lid--the perfect reflection of my skin tone. “Do you think you can give us a urine sample, hon?” she asked. I can give you a vomit sample, I thought.
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
I wonder how much I can tell Rowan about this. I need another girl’s analysis. My phone pings, and it’s her. RF: Need to skip lunch. Meeting with teacher for Hon French project. You OK? Well, there goes that. I text back that I’m fine. Lunch is grilled cheese, green beans, and Tater Tots. I can already feel my pores clogging, but I didn’t bring anything, and the alternative is ice cream on a stick. I head toward the back of the cafeteria, intending to go outside to sit on the quad and obsess over The Dark’s emails, but I spot Rev and Declan sitting at a table in the corner. Well, I assume it’s Rev. It could be some other broad-shouldered guy in a hoodie, but I doubt it.
Brigid Kemmerer (Letters to the Lost (Letters to the Lost, #1))
The oneness in Jesus Christ crosses all boundaries and separations. Anyone with the faith of Jesus Christ can immediately enjoy the innate oneness with another who has the faith of Jesus, regardless of differing political or doctrinal views.
Henry Hon
- Jag älskar honom, sa han. - Jag också, sa hon. Han böjde sig ner mot henne. - Kunde den omständigheten att vi mötts i denna djupa känsla bilda utgångspunkt för ett lån på fem tusen kronor? Hon tog fram sin plånbok, öppnade den, gav honom två tusenkronorssedlar.
Peter Høeg (The Quiet Girl)
I get it, hon. I know you need to be strong enough to handle your own shit. I’m not saying you’re not. I’m not trying to boss you around. I’m not trying to take your strength away from you. I’m trying to add mine to it. That’s what love is, right? That’s what family is.
Susan Fanetti (Strength & Courage (The Night Horde SoCal, #1))
Jag fick en brev från en flicka i Estland, hon kunde lite svenska men inte tillräckligt, så här slutade hon sitt brev: Jag önskar er allt gott, god hälsa och stora människolycka i alla era väg! Det gör jag med dig också, jag önskar dig stor människolycka i alla dina väg.
Astrid Lindgren (Dina brev lägger jag under madrassen : en brevväxling 1971-2002)
Hon hade fått Gamecuben av Elvy på sin femtonde födelsedag. Det hade varit hetsiga diskussioner med Margareta, som hävdade att tevespelen gjorde att ungdomarna avskärmade sig från omvärlden, stängde av. Elvy trodde att hon hade rätt, och det var just därför hon köpt spelet.
John Ajvide Lindqvist (Handling the Undead)
På svenskan läser vi en bok om nån som går på en internatskola och alltid vinner över alla han slåss med. Alla i klassen tycker boken är jättebra. Det är den inte. Den är skit. Danne säger att det är den bästa bok han läst och att han kan identifiera sig med huvudpersonen. (Vi har fått en stencil där det står: "Kan du identifiera dig med huvudpersonen?") Eva, vår lärare, blir alldeles röd i ansiktet av glädje. Hon frågar vad det är som Danne kan identifiera sig med. Då nickar han nöjd och säger: "Det där med simningen, för jag gick på simning förut.
Sanne Näsling (Kapitulera omedelbart eller dö)
He's a Nethanderal! Behold the might of my caveman!" Mrs. Isaacs looked up at me, "I believe they're called 'Neanderthals', Hon." I looked down at my watercolor caveman, making a face as I felt like a Nethanderal, painting the wall of my cave. "Neanderthal just sounds so...Archaic.
Kenzie Western
Green tree. Pretty lady. Car. Car. Truck,” she recites, naming out loud almost everything she sees. “Don’t mind me, I’m a gabberbox,” she chuckles. “A gabberbox?” I ask, confused at her term. “You know, hon, I talk a lot,” she explains before breaking into a laugh that is eerily familiar.
John Waters (Carsick: John Waters Hitchhikes Across America)
The general burden of the Coolidge memoirs was that the right hon. gentleman was a typical American, and some hinted that he was the most typical since Lincoln. As the English say, I find myself quite unable to associate myself with that thesis. He was, in truth, almost as unlike the average of his countrymen as if he had been born green. The Americano is an expansive fellow, a back-slapper, full of amiability; Coolidge was reserved and even muriatic. The Americano has a stupendous capacity for believing, and especially for believing in what is palpably not true; Coolidge was, in his fundamental metaphysics, an agnostic. The Americano dreams vast dreams, and is hag-ridden by a demon; Coolidge was not mount but rider, and his steed was a mechanical horse. The Americano, in his normal incarnation, challenges fate at every step and his whole life is a struggle; Coolidge took things as they came.
H.L. Mencken (The Vintage Mencken)
Hon är arg på sig själv för att hon då och då går in på Grand Hyatt Hotel vid Namsan Park och dricker en kopp te för 80 kronor. Hon är arg över att Grand Hyatt Hotel finns överhuvudtaget. Hon är arg att det finns rika människor överhuvudtaget. Hon är arg att det finns fattiga människor överhuvudtaget.
Maja Lee Langvad (Hun er vred)
Oh, hell no, Beck.” She pinches me on the arm, but I don’t even flinch. “Beck, this is not a good idea, hon. Oh my God, that is one hot little piece of disaster right there. Walk away while you still can, Beck. Oh, shit. It’s already too late, isn’t it? No wonder you’ve been so distracted. Are you sleeping with him?
Maris Black (Pinned (SSU Boys, #1))
I väntrummet sitter Britt-Marie kvar. Ensam. Inte ens kakaduan är kvar. Om Britt-Marie hade rest sig och gått så hade nog ingen kommit ihåg att hon varit där. Hon ser ut att tänka på det ett ögonblick. Sedan borstar hon något osynligt från kanten av bordet och rättar till ett veck i sin kjol, och sedan reser hon sig och går.
Fredrik Backman (Min mormor hälsar och säger förlåt)
Nej, Den Barmhärtige, den Barmhärtiga ger inte bröd, ger inte bröst, ger inte vatten och varken nattläger eller samläger Hon ger inte, kan inte ge och däri är hon ärlig Den Barmhärtiga ger vad hon inte ger vad hon inte kunde eller ville ge Den Gåvan heter Avstånd O du, som är stor i kärlek du fanns där och du gick tyst förbi.
Gunnar Ekelöf (Diwan över Fursten av Emgión)
You drink whisky, hon?” he asked Mollie. “Uh, not really.” “Well, you do now.” He poured a splash of amber liquid into two crystal glasses and brought one to her before holding up his own glass. “What are we toasting to?” he asked. “To men being shits,” Riley said. He gave his wife a look. “I’m not drinking my own whisky to that.
Lauren Layne (I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford, #2))
Kvinnan älskar att se mannen utföra handlingar, som vittnar om själsnärvaro och styrka, icke därför som skulle hon alltid, enligt det föråldrade bihanget till hennes meritförteckning, utgöra den svagare hälften, rankan, som behöver stödjas, och så vidare, utan helt enkelt därav, att mannens kraft, i synnerhet den älskades, livar hennes egen.
Emelie Flygare-Carlén
Minnesbilderna attackerade mitt huvud och jag stod helt maktlös. Med lätt darrande hand fimpade jag ciggen och tände genast en ny. Vackra Liv med de olikfärgade ögonen; ett blått och ett grönt. Det kastanjebruna håret som fladdrade i vinden. Hennes skratt som alltid fick det att värka i mitt hjärta. Det själfulla leendet som hon endast delade med mig.
Marie Louise Andersson (Hayden och Liv)
Föräldrakärlek är den enda kärleken där det slutliga målet måste vara skillsmässa. En mor som sätter värde på sonens strävan efter oberoende och uppmuntrar honom att skiljas från henne när han behöver det ger honom mycket viktiga verktyg för att handskas med livet. När modern är villig att låta sonen etablera sin egen identitet genom att låta honom ta risker på egen hand och låta honom göra sina egna misstag, och ändå finns till hands om han skulle behöva henne, bidrar hon till att skapa en människa som har förtroende för sig själv och sin förmåga. Den förkvävande modern hindrar och begränsar i stället sonens utveckling genom att styra honom för mycket och få honom att känna sig oduglig och hjälplös.
Susan Forward (Män som hatar kvinnor och kvinnorna som älskar dem)
Try going out of your comfort zone and doing something for someone else.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Believers who come to know the Scripture in a living way, in both knowledge and Spirit, can in turn, use this Word to minister to people around them.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Believers think only prominent ministers can have followers, but actually, every believer can and should have a few or at least one newer or younger believer as a disciple.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Believers can search the Scriptures on their own, and allow the Word of God, coinciding with the Holy Spirit, to enlighten their understanding, and open their spiritual eyes.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
All believers need to become teachers, shepherds, ministers, and good-news-bearers.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Believers today are to obey the Scriptures, just as in the first century.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
I found the power to move beyond the steps, to not merely dance the part but to become it.
Chan Hon Goh (Beyond the Dance: A Ballerina's Life)
The Word of God does not just pass on information, knowledge and logic for the mind, but is also living & full of the Spirit.
Henry Hon (One: Unfolding God’s Eternal Purpose from House to House)
The opportunity to serve is everywhere if the heart is seeking and there is a willingness to take action.
Henry Hon (One: Unfolding God’s Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Här är verkligen vackert,” suckade Liv. ”Inte lika vackert som du,” svarade Mark och tittade in i hennes ögon så intensivt att en primitiv instinkt skrek: Fly! Innan hon hann göra detta kom hans änglaansikte närmare och sedan trycktes deras läppar mot varandra. Liv slöt sina ögon och såg fyrverkerier bakom ögonlocken. Det var inte alls som när Lasse hade kysst henne. Det var bättre och intensivare. Alldeles för tidigt lämnade hans läppar hennes och alla möjliga sorters känslor snurrade runt i huvudet. ”Jag kunde inte låta bli,” mumlade Mark med mörk sammetsröst och vilade huvudet mot hennes axel. Med en tafatt rörelse smekte Liv hans vackra vita hår som var som det mjukaste silke. Ordlöst tröstade de varandra utan att vara medvetna om det.
Marie Louise Andersson (Salt hav,salta tårar)
Det här kan vi titta på, Sons of Anarchy.Sån jävla kitsch, om ett motorcykelgäng."Hon svarade inte.Hade lagt sig på sidan med händerna under huvudet.Det var snygga tuffa män med mycker känslor, lojalitet och passionsproblem.Ingen cynism, bara "outlaw"-romantik, läder, motorcyklar, horor och madonnor.Slampor och tunga kvinnor som de egentliga makthavarna, och våld, våld, våld.
Kajsa Grytt (Nio dagar, nio nätter)
In order for the assembly (ekklesia) to be built up, every believer needs to rise up and be actively seeking the Lord and functioning according to the gifts that the Spirit has given each one.
Henry Hon
För henne var julen ett träleri, ett festligt ok som hon bar emedan hon inte vågade annat, visste annat eller hade tänkt sig något annat. Hade hon bara vågat skulle hon ha avskytt barnens tiggande och giriga blickar under julens (i mat och pölsor drunknade) stjärna. Hade hon bara vågat tänka efter, ja, då hade hon spottat på julen, kvinnornas speciella trältid. Men hon vågade inte.
Harry Martinson (Nässlorna blomma)
General Taylor participated in the celebration of the Fourth of July, a very hot day, by hearing a long speech from the Hon. Henry S. Foote, at the base of the Washington Monument. Returning from the celebration much heated and fatigued, he partook too freely of his favorite iced milk with cherries, and during that night was seized with a severe colic, which by morning had quite prostrated him. It was said that he sent for his son-in-law, Surgeon Wood, United States Army, stationed in Baltimore, and declined medical assistance from anybody else. Mr. Ewing visited him several times, and was manifestly uneasy and anxious, as was also his son-in-law, Major Bliss, then of the army, and his confidential secretary. He rapidly grew worse, and died in about four days.
William T. Sherman (The Memoirs of General William T. Sherman)
Flickan och han står på en väg och de är unga igen. Han kommer ihåg allt det allra första han såg av henne, han gömmer de bilderna så långt bort från regnet han förmår. De är sexton och till och med snön var lycklig den morgonen, den sjönk såpbubblelätt och landade på kalla kinder som om flingorna försökte väcka någon de älskade. Hon stod framför honom med januari i håret och han var förlorad.
Fredrik Backman (And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer)
Planting his foot firmly on a golf-ball which the Hon. Freddie Threepwood, who had been practising putting in the corridor before retiring to bed, had left in his casual fashion just where the steps began, he took the entire staircase in one majestic, volplaning sweep. There were eleven stairs in all separating his landing from the landing below, and the only ones he hit were the third and tenth.
P.G. Wodehouse (Leave It to Psmith (Psmith, #4))
A minister, servant, or worker of the Lord Jesus is not a 'special' believer belonging to a 'special group.' According to New Testament revelation, every believer should be a minister, servant, or worker.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Hon tog till sig en liten del av det som fanns där, bäcken bakom vårt hus, skogarna med sina stenar och sin mossa och buskvegetation, och blodroten, blåklockorna och violerna som spirade i den våta jorden varje vår. Allt detta blev henne förtroget, men fälten med sina ändlösa rader som strålade samman vid horisonten under en oändlig himmel rymde ingen riktig mening för henne. Hur älskar man så mycket tomhet? (189)
Siri Hustvedt (The Sorrows of an American)
... det är bra för en människa att meditera över de drömmar hon haft. Då framstår den passiva tron på vetenskapen som en verklighetsflykt lika mycket som mysticismen. Därför är arbete och handling nödvändiga. Men de måste vara grundade på tro. Frågan är hur vi kan skaffa oss en tro värdig livet. ... 'Jag tror på livet och människorna', hade Ahmed sagt. 'Jag anser det vara min plikt att stödja deras ideal, så länge de är riktiga, för passivitet i det fallet innebär feghet och flykt. Jag anser det också vara min plikt att motarbeta deras ideal, om jag tror att de är felaktiga, för passivitet då innebär förräderi.' Man kunde fråga sig: vad är riktigt och vad är felaktigt? Men kanske tvivlet var ett slags verklighetsflykt liksom mysticismen och den passiva tron på vetenskapen. Likväl: kunde man på samma gång vara en idealisk lärare, en idealisk äkta man och en ständig revoltör?
Naguib Mahfouz (Sugar Street)
Zemra e Liqerit Dirgjet shpesht liqer i kalter e pushon ne mes te dites, siper tij bucet prej fundesh, pasqyrimi i tij shndrites. Vale e urte i shtrohet anes, dalngadal e fashe-fashe, qe praj zallit te perbujshem, nisem lundrat lavarashe. Po atje ku nisen lundrat, siper valeve paqtore,me rrembim te zemeruar, uji hap nje gjeratore: Hap me gjeme llahtarie, plage e hon ne kraharuar, ndaj largohen sere-sere, qe prej zallit te shkretuar
Lasgush Poradeci
Be submissive to one another.' By this phrase, the idea of hierarchy -- that one has authority over another -- is completely eliminated. If coercion and force is not used, the submission is completely voluntary, not compulsory.
Henry Hon (One: Unfolding God’s Eternal Purpose from House to House)
EVERYTHING SMELLED LIKE POISON. Two days after leaving Venice, Hazel still couldn’t get the noxious scent of eau de cow monster out of her nose. The seasickness didn’t help. The Argo II sailed down the Adriatic, a beautiful glittering expanse of blue; but Hazel couldn’t appreciate it, thanks to the constant rolling of the ship. Above deck, she tried to keep her eyes fixed on the horizon—the white cliffs that always seemed just a mile or so to the east. What country was that, Croatia? She wasn’t sure. She just wished she were on solid ground again. The thing that nauseated her most was the weasel. Last night, Hecate’s pet Gale had appeared in her cabin. Hazel woke from a nightmare, thinking, What is that smell? She found a furry rodent propped on her chest, staring at her with its beady black eyes. Nothing like waking up screaming, kicking off your covers, and dancing around your cabin while a weasel scampers between your feet, screeching and farting. Her friends rushed to her room to see if she was okay. The weasel was difficult to explain. Hazel could tell that Leo was trying hard not to make a joke. In the morning, once the excitement died down, Hazel decided to visit Coach Hedge, since he could talk to animals. She’d found his cabin door ajar and heard the coach inside, talking as if he were on the phone with someone—except they had no phones on board. Maybe he was sending a magical Iris-message? Hazel had heard that the Greeks used those a lot. “Sure, hon,” Hedge was saying. “Yeah, I know, baby. No, it’s great news, but—” His voice broke with emotion. Hazel suddenly felt horrible for eavesdropping. She would’ve backed away, but Gale squeaked at her heels. Hazel knocked on the coach’s door. Hedge poked his head out, scowling as usual, but his eyes were red. “What?” he growled. “Um…sorry,” Hazel said. “Are you okay?” The coach snorted and opened his door wide. “Kinda question is that?” There was no one else in the room. “I—” Hazel tried to remember why she was there. “I wondered if you could talk to my weasel.” The coach’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice. “Are we speaking in code? Is there an intruder aboard?” “Well, sort of.” Gale peeked out from behind Hazel’s feet and started chattering. The coach looked offended. He chattered back at the weasel. They had what sounded like a very intense argument. “What did she say?” Hazel asked. “A lot of rude things,” grumbled the satyr. “The gist of it: she’s here to see how it goes.” “How what goes?” Coach Hedge stomped his hoof. “How am I supposed to know? She’s a polecat! They never give a straight answer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got, uh, stuff…” He closed the door in her face. After breakfast, Hazel stood at the port rail, trying to settle her stomach. Next to her, Gale ran up and down the railing, passing gas; but the strong wind off the Adriatic helped whisk it away. Hazel
Rick Riordan (The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus, #4))
Don’t get on your high horse, Jo. What, you think you’re gonna be Cinderella?” She tipped her head back and laughed. Ugly. “You think your life is going to be some fairy tale, hon, like in one of your books?” The waitress brought Mother her iced tea. I knew what to do. I should have ended the conversation there. I should have left. Instead, I sat in the booth staring at her, wishing that she could be like other mothers, wishing that she were different. Mother would never square up. I knew that.
Ruta Sepetys (Out of the Easy)
My new friend," she said. "I met him at the farmers' market." Friend? Now there was some code. Suddenly, I realized why Patricia [his grandma] had sex on her mind, and then, just as suddenly, I had this whole new batch of unwanted images and thoughts. "So what do you think, hon? Saturday night, maybe?" Patricia asked my back. I leaned farther into the refrigerator. "Uhhh..." Milk, orange juice, pickles, mustard, canola oil, cream cheese, my grandmother having sex, please God, make it stop-- Hon?
Lisa Papademetriou
It is important that a distinction be made between the assembly as defined by the New Testament and churches as they are known today...Compared with the pattern of the assembly of believers (ekklesia) as described in the New Testament, institutional churches fall far short.
Henry Hon
Jag lutar mig fram över disken. ”Precis som med kvinnor.” Hans nattsvarta ögon blir större. ”Lilla flicka, vem har du pratat med?” ”Jag hörde att du träffade min vän igår kväll.” Han nickar. ”Söt. En aningen stel, men söt.” Jag blir irriterad över Trances beskrivning. Min vän är inget annat än 100 % fantastisk. ”Hon oroar sig för mig. Jag gissar att du betedde dig som en knöl mot henne.” ”Nej. Bara bjöd ut henne.” Det här kan inte vara hela historien. ”Hon är inte exakt din typ.” ”Sötnos, om en tjej har tuttar och en varm fitta så är hon min typ.
Marie Louise Andersson
You’ve been shot,” she tells Rachel. “You shot me, you crazy bit—“ “We don’t have time for the ER protocol crap, Mom,” I cut in. “She knows she’s been shot. She’s alert. Help. Her.” Mom nods. She looks at Rachel’s clenched fist where it’s balled against her lower stomach. “I’m sorry I shot you. I need to look at that. Please.” Rachel gives her The Stank Eye. Rachel is very good at The Stank Eye. “I’m a nurse, remember?” Mom says, her voice dripping with impatience. “I can help you.” Rachel inhales and eases her hand away from her stomach, but I can’t bring myself to look at it so I just watch Mom’s face to maybe gauge how bad the wound is. I imagine dark blood and entrails and… “What the…?” Mom gasps. As an ER nurse, Mom’s seen a lot of things. But by her expression, she’s never seen this. I’m thinking it must be way serious. Also, I’m thinking I might throw up. Until Rachel slaps a handcuff around Mom’s wrist. “I’m sorry, Nalia. I hope you understand.” Then she clinks the other end of the cuff around her own wrist. I steal a glance at Rachel’s very clean, very intact, very non-bloody-entrails T-shirt. Rachel is a smart woman. Mom lunges for her, hands aiming for her throat. Rachel pulls some karate-chop-move thing and slams Mom against the door behind her. “Knock it off, hon. I don’t want to really hurt you.” “You…you told Galen you’d been shot,” I stammer. “I heard you tell him that. Why would you lie to him?” Rachel shrugs. “I was shot.” She glances down at her feet. There’s a good-sized hole near the big toe of her boot, and bit of red staining the edges of it. “And I’d better be able to wear high heels after this, or one of you is going to swim with the fishes.” Then she laughs at her own stupid Mob joke. Mom plops down beside Rachel and leans against the car, too, in obvious surrender. She looks up at me. It’s a look brimming with “I told you so.” And I already know what she’s going to say next. We won’t make it very far before someone notices two women handcuffed together. Bathroom breaks will be impossible. Any public place will be impossible. I’m guessing Mom didn’t anticipate needing a hacksaw on this vacation of ours. But I know what she expects from me now. And that’s just too freaking bad.
Anna Banks (Of Triton (The Syrena Legacy, #2))
Reading God's Word and receiving the knowledge of Jesus Christ renews the believer's mind and transforms it to His mind. The minds of immature believers will be focused on selfish ambitions, but as they open themselves up to read the Word concerning Jesus, they enter into fellowship with Him and their thinking begins to change--to be renewed. As a result of such a renewing of the mind, they spontaneously start to look out for the interest of others and to genuinely and unselfishly care for others; they do not consider themselves better than everyone else.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Debra pointed her purses lips in Max’s direction. “Overnight guests are forbidden. No exceptions.” “Did you just have the audacity to judge me?” Gina blocked the nurse’s route to the door. “Without knowing the least little thing about me?” Debra lifted an eyebrow. “Well, I have seen your underwear, dear.” “Exactly,” Gina said. “You’ve seen my underwear—not my personality profile, or my resume, or my college transcript, or—” “If you think for one second,” the nurse countered, “that anything about this situation is even remotely unique—” “That’s enough,” Max said. Gina, of course, ignored him. “I don’t just think it, I know it,” she said. “It’s unique because I’m unique, because Max is unique, because—” Debra finally laughed. “Oh, honey, you are so . . . young. Here’s a tip I don’t usually bother to tell girls like you: If I find one pair of panties on the floor, it’s only a matter of time before I find another. And I hate to break it to you, hon, but the girl who comes out of the bathroom next time, well . . . She isn’t going to be you.” “First of all,” Gina said grimly, “I’m a woman, not a girl. And second, Grandma . . . You want to bet it’s not going to be me?” “I said, that’s enough,” Max repeated, and they both turned to look at him. About time. He was used to clearing his throat and having an entire room jump to full attention. “Ms. Forsythe, you took my blood pressure—you have the information you needed, good day to you, ma’am. Gina . . .” He wanted to tell her to untwist her panties and put them back on, but he didn’t dare. “Sit,” he ordered instead, motioning to the desk chair that could be pulled beside the bed. “Please,” he added when Nurse Evil smirked on her way out the door.
Suzanne Brockmann (Breaking Point (Troubleshooters, #9))
It’s still true that literary works by women, gays, and writers of color are often framed as specific rather than universal, small rather than big, personal or particular rather than socially significant. There are things you can do to shed light on and challenge those biases and bullshit moves. But the best possible thing you can do is get your ass down onto the floor. Write so blazingly good that you can’t be framed. Nobody is going to ask you to write about your vagina, hon. Nobody is going to give you a thing. You have to give it to yourself. You have to tell us what you have to say.
Cheryl Strayed (Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar)
Fair?' Bev said. 'Poor baby. Look, you're really sayin' that the ways of life are glum and grim and nasty, and I guess you want to turn crybaby about that, but what's on my mind is, Whoever misled you things were otherwise, hon? What sugar factory spun you out with such silly candy-assed notions? For cryin' out loud. There's other staples I'll break to you right now, too: The sun gives life but you'd be an ash flake if you got too close to it, you got to swallow water to live but sometimes it kills you, Uncle Sam don't truly count you as any relation, and God has gone blank on your name and face.
Daniel Woodrell (Tomato Red)
The cicada lies in the earth for seventeen years. It is warm and dark there, it is soft and wet. Its little legs curl underneath it, and twitch only once in a little while. What does the cicada dream when it is folded into the soil? What visions travel through it, like snow flying fast? Its dreams are lightless and secret. It dreams of the leaves it will taste, it composes the concerto it will sing to its mate. It dreams of the shells it will leave behind, like self-portraits. All its dreams are drawn in amber. It dreams of all the children it will make. And then it emerges from the earth, shaking dust and damp soil from its skin. It knows nothing but its own passion to ascend - it climbs a high stalk of grass and begins to sing, its special concerto to draw the wing-pattern of its beloved near. And as it sings it leaves its amber skin behind, so that in the end, it has sung itself into a new body in which it will mate, and die. The cicadas leave their shells everywhere, like a child's lost buttons. The shells do not understand the mating dance that now occurs in the mountains above it. The shell knows nothing of who it has been, it does not remember the dreaming of self, that was warm in the earth. The song emptied it, and now it simply waits for the wind or the rain to carry it away. You are the cicada-in-the-earth. You are the shell-in-the-grass. You do not understand what you dream, only that you dream. And when you begin to sing, the song will separate you from your many skins. This is the lesson of the cicada's dream.
Catherynne M. Valente (Yume No Hon: The Book of Dreams)
The assembly (ekklesia) is the family -- the household -- of God. The Lord Jesus is the only one with absolute authority, and He is the chief feeder of all the saints. Therefore, as brothers and sisters in the same family, everyone is equal in status, but some may be relatively ahead of others in life experiences and knowledge
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
There are other herbs endowed with spontaneous movements that are not so well known, notably the Hedysareæ, among which the Hedysa­rum gyrans, or Moving-plant, acts in a very restless and surprising fashion. This little Leguminosa, which is a native of Bengal, but often cultivated in our hothouses, performs a sort of perpetual and intricate dance in hon­our of the light. Its leaves are divided into three foli­oles, one wide and terminal, the two others narrow and planted at the base of the first. Each of these leaflets is animated with a different movement of its own. They live in a state of rhythmical, almost chronometrical and continuous agitation. They are so sensitive
Maurice Maeterlinck (The Intelligence of the Flowers)
The word 'church' in the Bible is a mistranslation of the Greek word 'ekklesia.' The accurate translation is 'assembly' or 'congregation.' Literally 'ekklesia' means the 'called out ones.' The common usage of this word during the apostles' time was for a called out assembly of people, such as a town square meeting, where citizens were 'called out' to attend.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
She was especially taken with Matt. Until he said, “It’s time to fess up, hon. Tell Trace how much you care. You’ll feel better when you do.” Climbing up the ladder, Chris said, “Better sooner than later.” He nodded at the hillside behind them. “Because here comes Trace, and he doesn’t look happy.” Both Priss and Matt turned, Priss with anticipation, Matt with tempered dread. Dressed in jeans and a snowy-white T-shirt, Trace stalked down the hill. Priss shielded her eyes to better see him. When he’d left, being so guarded about his mission, she’d half wondered if he’d return before dinner. Trace wore reflective sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but his entire demeanor—heavy stride, rigid shoulders, tight jaw—bespoke annoyance. As soon as he was close enough, Priss called out, “What’s wrong?” Without answering her, Trace continued onto the dock. He didn’t stop until he stood right in front of . . . Matt. Backing up to the edge of the dock, Matt said, “Uh . . . Hello?” Trace didn’t say a thing; he just pushed Matt into the water. Arms and legs flailing out, Matt hit the surface with a cannonball effect. Stunned, Priss shoved his shoulder. “What the hell, Trace! Why did you do that?” Trace took off his sunglasses and looked at her, all of her, from her hair to her body and down to her bare toes. After working his jaw a second, he said, “If you need sunscreen, ask me.” Her mouth fell open. Of all the nerve! He left her at Dare’s, took off without telling her a damn thing and then had the audacity to complain when a friend tried to keep her from getting sunburned. “Maybe I would have, if you’d been here!” “I’m here now.” Emotions bubbled over. “So you are.” With a slow smile, Priss put both hands on his chest. The shirt was damp with sweat, the cotton so soft that she could feel every muscle beneath. “And you look a little . . . heated.” Trace’s beautiful eyes darkened, and he reached for her. “A dip will cool you down.” Priss shoved him as hard as she could. Taken by surprise, fully dressed, Trace went floundering backward off the end of the dock. Priss caught a glimpse of the priceless expression of disbelief on Trace’s face before he went under the water. Excited by the activity, the dogs leaped in after him. Liger roused himself enough to move out of the line of splashing. Chris climbed up the ladder. “So that’s the new game, huh?” He laughed as he scooped Priss up into his arms. “Chris!” She made a grab for his shoulders. “Put me down!” “Afraid not, doll.” Just as Trace resurfaced, Chris jumped in with her. They landed between the swimming dogs. Sputtering, her hair in her face and her skin chilled from the shock of the cold water, Priss cursed. Trace had already waded toward the shallower water off the side of the dock. His fair hair was flattened to his head and his T-shirt stuck to his body. “Wait!” Priss shouted at him. He was still waist-deep as he turned to glare at her. Kicking and splashing, Priss doggy-paddled over to him, grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Oh, no, you don’t!” Startled, Trace scooped her bottom in his hands and struggled for balance on the squishy mud bottom of the lake. “What the hell?” And then lower, “You look naked in this damn suit.” Matt and Chris found that hilarious. Priss looked at Trace’s handsome face, a face she loved, and kissed him. Hard. For only a second, he allowed the sensual assault. He even kissed her back. Then he levered away from her. “You ruined my clothes, damn it.” “Only because you were being a jealous jerk.” His expression dark, he glared toward Matt. Christ started humming, but poor Matt said, “Yeah,” and shrugged. “If you think about it, you’ll agree that you sort of were—and we both know there’s no reason.
Lori Foster (Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2))
The conscience leads a person away from that which is harmful, and toward what is beneficial. Nerve endings in a person's fingers help prevent their fingers from getting seared; however, if those endings are damaged and a person has no sensitivity to heat, their fingers could catch on fire without the person being aware. In the same way a person's conscience can be seared so that it has no more sensitivity.
Henry Hon
Sir, — Whether women are the equals of men has been endlessly debated; whether they have souls has been a moot point; but can it be too much to ask [for a definitive acknowledgement that at least they are animals?… Many hon. members may object to the proposed Bill enacting that, in statutes respecting the suffrage, 'wherever words occur which import the masculine gender they shall be held to include women;' but could any object to the insertion of a clause in another Act that 'whenever the word "animal" occur it shall be held to include women?' Suffer me, thorough your columns, to appeal to our 650 [parliamentary] representatives, and ask — Is there not one among you then who will introduce such a motion? There would then be at least an equal interdict on wanton barbarity to cat, dog, or woman… Yours respectfully, AN EARNEST ENGLISHWOMAN
Joanna Bourke (What It Means To Be Human)
Normally when Christians go to church, they do not have to prepare to contribute anything other than some money for the tithing plate in their 'Sunday best.' They go to listen and watch those who have done the preparations carry out their professional services. Therefore, there is a hard shift in the concept that assembling according to the New Testament is very different and will require preparation, if the goal is to build up the assembly. Since an assembly's activities depend on member's contributions, if no one prays, sings, or says anything concerning Jesus it will be a very dead and boring gathering -- or the gathering will end up focused on other things. Therefore, a proper assembly requires every member to prepare something to bring and share. This is why 1 Corinthians 14:26 speaks of each one having a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, etc.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Jag försökte lära honom det enkla knepet att tänka på döden när man stötte på brudar. Det har hjälp mig själv många gånger genom åren och är förvånansvärt effektivt. Jag kommer alltså att dö om några futtiga årtionden. Min lekamen ska utplånas för tid och evighet. Samma sak kommer att hände med tjejen, vi ska alla stampas ut och försvinna. Om tusen år är våra liv, alla våra ljuvaste drömmar och värsta rädslor upplösta i jord och aska. Vad spelar det då för roll om hon nobbar eller är snorkig och skrattar en rakt i ansiktet? Tack vare denna krassa inställning har jag emellanåt uträttat märkliga ting på kärlekens område, vågat stöta på livsfarligt vackra kvinnor till exempel, och ibland också faktiskt fått leka med dem. Det här var det enda rådet som Niila verkligen lyssnade på. Han började tänka på döden oftare än på tjejer. Grabben blev kort sagt riktigt outhärdlig.
Mikael Niemi (Popular Music from Vittula)
Hur är det med sömnen, älskling?” frågar han. Jag vill svara att jag inte sover alls, att det inte går när man vaknar för många gånger mitt i natten, att det inte går när allt man vill är att sova med sin man men inte får. Men det får jag inte säga. Han skulle känna sig skyldig, det är inte hans fel att jag sover ensam – det är nog mitt. ”Det går väl okej. Ibland får Maria mysa med mig, mest för att hon är rädd då”, ljuger jag mig fram. Maria sover som en stock, hon sover som sin pappa, de vet hur det är att andas och inte känna lungorna bli tyngre. De vet hur det är att vara vid liv. ”Saknar du mig då?” Mer än han anar. Det finns inte ord för att beskriva tyngden av elefanterna som väger ner mitt hjärta, eller hur många hjärtslag som har använts för att gråta över honom. Finns absolut inget som skulle göra mig gladare än att ha honom nära mig, att ha honom vid min sida varje dag.
Anika Hussain (De Tysta Tänker Högst)
I’ll send the nurse in here in a minute, okay?” Waste of time, I thought. “Okay, but…do you think there’s anything we can do about my ears?” I really didn’t want to feel this way anymore. “Marcy will be in here in just a second,” he repeated. He wasn’t acknowledging my self-diagnosis at all. What kind of doctor is this? Marcy soon entered the room with a plastic cup with a bright green lid--the perfect reflection of my skin tone. “Do you think you can give us a urine sample, hon?” she asked. I can give you a vomit sample, I thought. “Sure,” I said, taking the cup and following Marcy to the restroom like a good little patient. And don’t call me hon, I thought. I was cranky. I needed something to eat, and I felt like bursting into tears. A minute later, I exited the bathroom and handed Marcy the sample cup, which I’d wiped clean with a paper towel. “Okay, hon,” she said. “You can just head back to the room and I’ll be back in a sec.” Stop calling me hon.
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
And now, O kind-hearted reader, I feel myself constrained, in the telling of this little story, to depart altogether from the principles of story telling to which you probably have become accustomed and to put the horse of my romance before the cart. There is a mystery respecting Mr and Mrs Peacocke which, according to all laws recognised in such matters, ought not to be elucidated till, let us say, the last chapter but two, so that your interest should be maintained almost to the end, -- so near the end that there should be left only space for those little arrangements which are necessary for the well-being, or perhaps for the evil-being, of our personages. It is my purpose to disclose the mystery at once, and to ask you to look for your interest, -- should you choose to go on with my chronicle, -- simply in the conduct of my persons, during this disclosure, to others. You are to know it all before the Doctor or the Bishop, -- before Mrs. Wortle or the Hon Mrs Stantiloup, or Lady De Lawle. You are to know it all before the Peacockes become aware that it must necessarily be disclosed to any one. It may be that when I shall have once told the mystery there will no longer be any room for interest in the tale to you. That there are many such readers of novels I know. I doubt whether the greater number be not such. I am far from saying that the kind of interest of which I am speaking – and of which I intend to deprive myself, -- is not the most natural and the most efficacious. What would the ‘Black Dwarf’ be if every one knew from the beginning that he was a rich man and a baronet? – or ‘The Pirate,’ if all the truth about Norna of the Fitful-head had been told in the first chapter? Therefore, put the book down if the revelation of some future secret be necessary for your enjoyment. Our mystery is going to be revealed in the next paragraph, -- in the next half-dozen words. Mr and Mrs Peacocke were not man and wife.
Anthony Trollope (Dr. Wortle's School)
Det är meningslöst att säga att en människa bör vara nöjd med att ha lugn och ro. Hon behöver liv och rörelse, och om det inte bjuds henne skapar hon det. Tusenden är dömda till en ännu händelselösare tillvaro än mig, och tusende lever i tyst protest mot sitt öde. Ingen vet hur många uppror vid sidan av de politiska som jäser bland alla de människor som befolkar jorden. Kvinnor förväntas alltid vara stillsamma, men kvinnor har samma känslor som män, de har samma behov av att öva sina förmågor och spänna sina krafter som deras bröder. De plågas av den trånga instängdheten och fullständiga händelselösheten på precis samma sätt som män plågas, och det är trångsynt av deras mer privilegierade medmänniskor att hävda att de borde vara nöjda med att sticka strumpor och laga puddingar, spela piano och brodera väskor. Det är tanklöst att fördöma dem eller skratta åt dem om de vill uträtta mer eller lära sig mer än vad traditionen föreskriver som passande för deras kön (s. 125-126).
Charlotte Brontë (Jane Eyre)
fron wikipedia: http://sv.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azita_Gh... Azita Ghahreman föddes i Iran. Efter att ha utbildat sig till lärare studerade hon språk, litteratur och mytologi. Hon har haft uppdrag i FN och arbetat för organisationen ”läkare utan gränser”.Sedan 2006 bor hon i Malmö. Hon är medlem i Författarcentrum syd. Författarskap [redigera] Azita Ghahreman debuterade som poet 1990. Hennes första bok Avazhaaye havva (Evas sånger) blev mycket uppmärksammad i iranska media. Tandishaaye paeezi (höstens skulpturer) kom ut 1996. Den tredje diktsamlingen Faramooshi aine sadei daarad (glömskan har en enkel ceremoni) 2002 blev nominerad till årets bästa diktsamling och fick bra kritik i iransk press. Hennes dikter är översatta till franska, holländska, engelska, tyska, arabiska, makedonska, kinesiska,albanska, danska och svenska. Förutom i Iran har hon haft föredrag och poesiuppläsningar i Sverige, Holland, Tyskland, Makedonien, Albanien, England och Frankrike. Analys av författarskapet [redigera] Dikterna handlar om människans möte med det ofrånkomliga och det som uppstår i varje kontakt med tingen och skeenden runtomkring oss. I hennes tidigare dikter finns spår av sorg över en förlorad barndom i ett religiöst land, som sätter många förbud. I senare dikter ser man en mognare hållning till världen och språket. Här upptäcker poeten människans begränsningar och försöker komma underfund med ångestens drivande kraft. Genom skapandet försöker hon göra sig fri från förutbestämda, förutfattade meningar om rätt och fel. I de dikter som har skrivits efter 2000 märks en lekfull poet som behärskar orden, språket och historien. Filosofiska och mytologiska studier gör sig påminda som en sorts nyupptäckt av språket och ett nytt sätt att se på världen. Poeten möter en bitter verklighet med en känsla av ironi och filosofisk beundran över stora och små händelser. Det vore fel att betrakta Ghahreman som en politisk poet. Hennes dikter kan betecknas som universella, samtidigt som de karakteriserar en iransk kvinnas liv och öde. I de senare dikterna finns dikter av erotisk karaktär. Det är få iranska kvinnor som har vågat skriva erotiska dikter så öppet och starkt. Hennes dikter ingår i en tusenårig tradition av persisk litteratur. Bibliografi
Azita Ghahreman
Even Europe joined in. With the most modest friendliness, explaining that they wished not to intrude on American domestic politics but only to express personal admiration for that great Western advocate of peace and prosperity, Berzelius Windrip, there came representatives of certain foreign powers, lecturing throughout the land: General Balbo, so popular here because of his leadership of the flight from Italy to Chicago in 1933; a scholar who, though he now lived in Germany and was an inspiration to all patriotic leaders of German Recovery, yet had graduated from Harvard University and had been the most popular piano-player in his class—namely, Dr. Ernst (Putzi) Hanfstängl; and Great Britain's lion of diplomacy, the Gladstone of the 1930's, the handsome and gracious Lord Lossiemouth who, as Prime Minister, had been known as the Rt. Hon. Ramsay MacDonald, P.C. All three of them were expensively entertained by the wives of manufacturers, and they persuaded many millionaires who, in the refinement of wealth, had considered Buzz vulgar, that actually he was the world's one hope of efficient international commerce.
Sinclair Lewis (It Can't Happen Here)
They climbed out of the pit to find a banquet awaiting them. A long table, four high-backed Untan-style chairs, a candelabra in the centre bearing four thick-stemmed beeswax candles, the golden light flickering down on silver plates heaped with Malazan delicacies. Oily santos fish from the shoals off Kartool, baked with butter and spices in clay; strips of marinated venison, smelling of almonds in the northern D'avorian style; grouse from the Seti plains stuffed with bull-berries and sage; baked gourds and fillets of snake from Dal Hon; assorted braised vegetables and four bottles of wine: a Malaz Island white from the Paran Estates, warmed rice wine from Itko Kan, a fullbodied red from Gris, and the orange-tinted belack wine from the Napan Isles. Kalam stood staring at the bounteous apparition, as Stormy, with a grunt, walked over, boots puffing in the dust, and sat down in one of the chairs, reaching for the Grisian red. 'Well,' Quick Ben said, dusting himself off, 'this is nice. Who's the fourth chair for, you think?' Kalam looked up at the looming bulk of the sky keep. 'I'd rather not think about that.' Snorting sounds from Stormy as he launched into the venison strips.
Steven Erikson (The Bonehunters (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #6))
I need to check your vitals, hon,” she explained. It had been several hours since I’d given birth. I guess this was the routine. She felt my pulse, palpated my legs, asked if I had pain anywhere, and lightly pressed on my abdomen, the whole while making sure I wasn’t showing signs of a blockage or a blood clot, a fever or a hemorrhage. I stared dreamily at Marlboro Man, who gave me a wink or two. I hoped he would, in time, be able to see past the vomit. The nurse then began a battery of questions. “So, no pain?” “Nope. I feel fine now.” “No chills?” “Not at all.” “Have you been able to pass gas in the past few hours?” *Insert awkward ten-second pause* I couldn’t have heard her right. “What?” I asked, staring at her. “Have you been able to pass gas lightly?” *Another awkward pause* What kind of question is this? “Wait…,” I asked. “What?” “Sweetie, have you been able to pass gas today?” I stared at her blankly. “I don’t…” “…Pass gas? You? Today?” She was unrelenting. I continued my blank, desperate stare, completely incapable of registering her question. Throughout the entire course of my pregnancy, I’d gone to great lengths to maintain a certain level of glamour and vanity. Even during labor, I’d attempted to remain the ever-fresh and vibrant new wife, going so far as to reapply tinted lip balm before the epidural so I wouldn’t look pale. I’d also restrained myself during the pushing stage, afraid I’d lose control of my bowels, which would have been the kiss of death upon my pride and my marriage; I would have had to just divorce my husband and start fresh with someone else. I had never once so much as passed gas in front of Marlboro Man. As far as he was concerned, my body lacked this function altogether. So why was I being forced to answer these questions now? I hadn’t done anything wrong. “I’m sorry…,” I stammered. “I don’t understand the question…” The nurse began again, seemingly unconcerned with my lack of comprehension skills. “Have you…” Marlboro Man, lovingly holding our baby and patiently listening all this time from across the room, couldn’t take it anymore. “Honey! She wants to know if you’ve been able to fart today!” The nurse giggled. “Okay, well maybe that’s a little more clear.” I pulled the covers over my head. I was not having this discussion.
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
You know, Mercy, it is really very simple." He took my hand. "He has no power, hon. Not unless you hand yours over.
Orna Ross (Blue Mercy)
Nuförtiden tyckte Sara att det verkade som om alla drömde om allt möjligt. Att resa och älska och få en fantastisk karriär och en lycklig familj, och hela tiden dessutom medan man var smal, snygg, populär och harmonisk. "Amy", sa hon "tror du att det går inflation i våra drömmar?".
Katarina Bivald (Läsarna i Broken Wheel rekommenderar)
Hon är inte så säker på vad hon hade varit då; och det värsta är att hon fortfarande inte tvivlar ett ögonblick på att hon hade varit lättare att älska. Så. Utan sig själv. Mera ren, renare, mera: kvinna. Mer människa eller bara en mer riktig människa.
Josefine Klougart (Én af os sover)
När han tog henne bakifrån lutade hon sig över toaletten med händerna på vattenbehållaren.Nu lät de båda två, men det verkade inte vara någon annan därnere.Han drog ut när han kom, släppte satsen på golvet och andades häftigt en kort stund.
Kajsa Grytt (Nio dagar, nio nätter)
Fanns det en särskild avdelning i himlen för självmördare? Hon kunde hänga med Karin Boye. De kunde sitta och sucka över varsin kopp kaffe, rörande eniga om att det gjorde förbannat ont när knoppar brast.
Johanna Nilsson (Gå din väg men stanna)
Hon tror hela tiden att det är han som kommer där och att han har ångrat sig. En vän ringer och ursäktar. Inte så mycket å hans egna vägnar som å kärlekens. Att det är så det är; utan rättvisa. Rättvisa har inget med kärlek att göra, rättvisa har med affärer att göra, pengar.
Josefine Klougart (Én af os sover)
Det står en mamma utanför ett hus. Hon packar sitt barns väskor i en bil, hur många gånger gör man det medan de växer upp? Hur många leksaker plockar man upp från golvet, hur många gosedjur bildar man skallgångskedjor efter vid läggdags och hur många vantar ger man upp hoppet om på förskolan? Hur många gånger tänker man att om naturen nu verkligen ville att människor skulle fortplanta sig borde kanske evolutionen vid det här laget ha låtit skohorn växa ut ur underarmarna på alla föräldrar så att vi kunde nå in under alla förbannade soffor och kylskåp? Hur många timmar väntar vi i hallen på våra ungar? Hur många grå hårstrån ger de oss? Hur många liv ägnar vi åt deras enda? Vad krävs för att vara en bra förälder? Inte mycket. Bara allt. Bara exakt allt.
Backman Fredrik
Varje påsk lagade min farmor pasjka. Det är en rysk efterrätt som består av kvarg, smör, gräddfil, socker, mandel, äggulor, citron och suckat. Det låg en märklig träställning i ett underskåp i köket hemma i Brommavillan, i den satte man en silduk där kvargen fick rinna av under ett dygn. Jag drogs med i den rituella upphetsningen, det var ju bara en gång om året som den tillagades. Mamma gjorde pasjka för att pappa sa att det hörde till. Och den hade alltid varit ett stående inslag i min farmors familj. När hennes syster Margit, Gaba, låg på sjukhem påsken 1999 kom jag upp på hennes rum när dottern till en rysk vän var där. Hon matade Gaba med något ur en liten plastskål. Det var pasjka, Gaba himlade lyckligt med ögonen och åt. [...] Jag minns min barndoms besvikelse över att det inte smakade så gott. Det var syrligt, kladdigt, ett märkligt mellanting av kräm och kaka. När det landade på tungan fanns en förhoppning om sötma, men syran tog över och som med så mycket annat från pappas barndomskök så mötte jag och min bror pasjkan med den största skepsis.
Gunnar Bolin (Hovjuvelerarens barn)
Enda trösten är frukt- och blomsterstånden på Östermalmstorg där äpplena är lika goda som i Norge och där jag förbluffar en torgmadam med att begära ett halvt kilo tomater, så mycket köper ingen människa. - Vet hon vad de kostar? När jag får höra priset nöjer jag mig med tre stycken. I Tyskland var frukt och grönsaker billigt och man köper aldrig per styck.
Erika Schwarze (Kodnamn Onkel)
Making rude comments or sounds when you'd bend over . Making fun of you in front of others just to get a laugh . Throwing our alarm clock at the wall during an argument . Treating you as a subservient person . Never supporting your decisions . Making you move to a new house without considering your needs . Telling you, "She's fine hon" when our daughter fell off the swing set backwards and you were in anguish . Trying to get a laugh by calling you an asshole when you went to all of the trouble to give me a surprise birthday party .
Austin F. James (Emotional Abuse: Silent Killer of Marriage - A Recovering Abuser Speaks Out)
Vineet Raj Kapoor
I tell ya what, hon. People are the fun- house mirrors of your life. Some make you tall, some make you wide. Some make you see double or twist you into somethin’ you can’t recognize. Not even that one regular mirror will show your true self. The thing is, all of them images are your true self.
Jaime Reed (Sorry Not Sorry)
But now, at just after four o’clock, it was his turn to speak. He exuded energy and confidence, as well as pugnacious good cheer. He held the House “from the very first moment,” wrote Harold Nicolson in his diary: “very amusing…very frank.” He was also merciless. He directed his opening salvo at Lloyd George. “If there were any speech which I felt was not particularly exhilarating,” he said, “it was the speech of my right hon. Friend the Member for Carnarvon Boroughs.” Churchill condemned it as being unhelpful during a time that Lloyd George himself had described as discouraging and disheartening. “It was not the sort of speech which one would have expected from the great war leader of former days, who was accustomed to brush aside despondency and alarm, and push on irresistibly towards the final goal,” Churchill said. “It was the sort of speech with which, I imagine, the illustrious and venerable Marshal Pétain might well have enlivened the closing days of M. Reynaud’s Cabinet.
Erik Larson (The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz)
Sei-Hoe Hon and I am the
Steve Alten (Generations (Meg, #6))
Jag vet ej vem jag är, ingen människa kommer någonsin att få veta vem hon är. Ett namn? Ett ansikte? Men varje människa har eller kan få så många namn, har eller kan få så många ansikten. Själen byts: den kan bli ädlare, den kan bli sämre; vi vet detta. Ingen människa kan vila i sitt förflutna, ingen åldring i sin barndom, ej någon äger full trygghet i sig själv. Men vi kan gripa nuet och säga: så är jag nu, i denna stund.
Eyvind Johnson (The Days of His Grace)
কেউ অনার্স বা মাস্টার্সে ৩.২৪ পেয়েও বি+ [৩.২৫] পায় না। কেউ ৩ পেলে বি, আর কেউ ৩.২৪ পেলেও বি। তাহলে ৩-এর পর .২৪ এর কি কোনও মূল্য থাকে?
Ziaul Haque
In Hon's or Master's, some don't get B+ [3.25] even after obtaining 3.24. If 3 and 3.24 = B, then does .24 have any value after 3?
Ziaul Haque
It is so easy and effortless for Christians to just join a church and follow its leadership and practices without seeking the Lord for personal discernment.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Where everyone is accepted equally as a brother or sister in Christ, and where there is an open forum without a set program and format, believers will be in an environment where their gifts will develop and manifest naturally.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Practice teaching others the 'unsearchable riches' of Christ. Each week, explain a verse from a section of Scripture to another person.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
The typical clergy/laity system practiced among most churches is detrimental to believers. In this system only a professional class of people teaches and preaches, while the majority of the believers listen.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Consider the fruit of the Spirit; that is what the Christian life should be.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Christians will remain a babe if they do not exercise and begin teaching others themselves. Maturity is not about knowing a lot but whether the believer is actually participating in the ministry.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Paul's aspiration was to know Jesus Christ in a way that was experiential.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Jesus was able to die as the Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world because He was without sin. He was qualified to be an adequate substitute so mankind doesn't have to die but instead can receive the forgiveness of sins.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
It is a good practice to invite Christians to your house for fellowship. Inviting people into your house means that you are open to them, that you have nothing to hide from them, and that they are welcomed to be comfortable around you.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
There are about 56 incidences of the phrase 'one another' in the New Testament in relation to the members being in the body...This is the mutual giving and receiving in the body...Without every member of the body functioning, the body will be crippled or handicapped.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Believers need to be drawing nourishment from Christ continually.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Jesus was able to die as the Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world (John 1:29), because He was without sin (Heb. 4:15). He was qualified to be an adequate substitute so mankind doesn't have to die (1 Pet. 3:18), but instead can receive the forgiveness of sins (Matt. 26:28).
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
No one has to teach God's people to know God.
Henry Hon (ONE: Unfolding God's Eternal Purpose from House to House)
Would Chassie be jealous? Or would she roll with it like she’d rolled with everything else? She knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Hey, hon. Edgard’s back. There’s something he wants to show me in the barn.” Trevor grinned. “Chass, baby, a country girl like you oughten be fallin’ for that tired old line. For shame.” “It’s only a tired line if it don’t work. Obviously it’s worked on me, since I’ll be in the barn with him.
Lorelei James (Rough, Raw and Ready (Rough Riders, #5))