K Flay Quotes

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What is that old children’s rhyme, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’? Anyone who says that doesn’t understand the power of words. They can cut deeper than any knife, hit harder than any fist, touch parts of you that nothing physical will ever reach, and the wounds that some words leave never heal, because each time the word is thrown at you, labeled on you, you bleed afresh from it. It’s more like a whip that cuts every time, until you feel it must flay the very skin from your bones, and yet outwardly there is no wound to show the world, so they think you are not hurt, when inside part of you dies every time.
Laurell K. Hamilton (A Shiver of Light (Merry Gentry, #9))
You know why I am here?" asked the headmaster. Swaminathan searched for an answer: the headmaster might be there to receive letters from boy's parents; he might be there to flay Ebenzars alive; he might be there to deliver six cuts with his cane every Monday at twelve o'clock. And above all why this question?
R.K. Narayan (Swami and Friends, The Bachelor of Arts, The Dark Room, The English Teacher: Introduction by Alexander McCall Smith (Everyman's Library Contemporary Classics Series))
What is that old children's rhyme, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me'? Anyone who says that doesn't understand the power of words. They can cut deeper than any knife, hit harder than any fist, touch parts of you that nothing physical will ever reach, and the wounds that some words leave never heal, because each time the word is thrown at you, labeled on you, you bleed afresh from it. It's more like a whip that cuts every time, until you feel it must flay the very skin from your bones, and yet outwardly there is no wound to show the world, so they think you are not hurt, when inside part of you dies every time."~Sholto, from A Shiver of Light
Laurell K. Hamilton
a moth with mouths both front and back. Cavorting in the autumn clouds that are like strips of flayed skin. The
A.K. Blakemore (The Manningtree Witches)
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’? Anyone who says that doesn’t understand the power of words. They can cut deeper than any knife, hit harder than any fist, touch parts of you that nothing physical will ever reach, and the wounds that some words leave never heal, because each time the word is thrown at you, labeled on you, you bleed afresh from it. It’s more like a whip that cuts every time, until you feel it must flay the very skin from your bones, and yet outwardly there is no wound to show the world, so they think you are not hurt, when inside part of you dies every time.
Laurell K. Hamilton (A Shiver of Light (Merry Gentry, #9))
What is that old children’s rhyme, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’? Anyone who says that doesn’t understand the power of words. They can cut deeper than any knife, hit harder than any fist, touch parts of you that nothing physical will ever reach, and the wounds that some words leave never heal, because each time the word is thrown at you, labeled on you, you bleed afresh from it. It’s more like a whip that cuts every time, until you feel it must flay the very skin from your bones, and yet outwardly there is no wound to show the world, so they think you are not hurt, when inside part of you dies every time.” ― A Shiver of Light
Laurell K. Hamilton
He left!’ said Mrs Figg, wringing her hands. ‘Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I’d flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It’s just lucky I put Mr Tibbles on the case! But we haven’t got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we’ve got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5))
Bad Memory by K.Flay
Caroline Peckham (The Death Club (Dead Men Walking, #1))
Jaghatai started to cough, sending more bloody spurts out over the ripped-apart ground. His shattered gauntlet still clutched the hilt of his blade, but the arm must have been broken in many places. Only slowly, as he trudged back, did Mortarion realise that the sound was bitter laughter. 'I… absorbed,' Jaghatai rasped, 'the… pain.' Mortarion halted. 'What do you mean?' 'I… know,' Jaghatai said, his voice a liquid slur. 'The Terminus Est. You… gave up. I… did not.' And then he grinned – his split lips, his flayed cheeks, his lone seeing eye, twisting into genuine, spiteful pleasure. 'My endurance is… superior.' So that was what they all believed. Not that he had done what needed to be done. Not that he had sacrificed everything to make his Legion invincible, even suffering the ignominy of using Calas as his foil, even condemning himself to the permanent soul-anguish of daemonhood so that the change could never be undone by anyone, not even his father. That he had been weak.
Chris Wraight (Warhawk (The Siege of Terra #6))
She grins down at me madly, those blue eyes I once loved dark with greed and lust. Lust for my pain, my death. She thinks it will get her what she desires. I want to give in, to fall into that light warmth calling to me, but I fight it. I need to get free, to kill her before the others find her. They will torture her, they will make it hurt…and despite it all, part of me still loves her. Even now, as her blade flashes in the light as it comes back down on my chest, slicing through more of my muscle, flaying it away, I care for her.
K.A. Knight (Den of Vipers)
The Aztecs had asked their host, the lord of Culhuacán, whether he would give his daughter as a bride for their chief. He agreed, believing she would be greatly honored as queen; however, to his horror they killed and flayed her as a sacrifice to their deity Xipe Totec.
D.K. Publishing (The Little Book of History (DK Little Book of))
What is that old children’s rhyme, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’? Anyone who says that doesn’t understand the power of words. They can cut deeper than any knife, hit harder than any fist, touch parts of you that nothing physical will ever reach, and the wounds that some words leave never heal, because each time the word is thrown at you, labeled on you, you bleed afresh from it. It’s more like a whip that cuts every time, until you feel it must flay the very skin from your bones, and yet outwardly there is no wound to show the world, so they think you are not hurt, when inside part of you dies every time.” I
Laurell K. Hamilton (A Shiver of Light (Merry Gentry, #9))