Mallory Keen Quotes

AWWW, YOU two are so cute together it makes me sick. So I’m going back to my own room.” I’m not sure Mallory and Halfborn even heard me when I left, they were lip-locking so hard. Seeing them like that almost made me miss Magnus. Almost.

There’s no time,’ I said. ‘We’re losing him.’ Mallory choked on tears. ‘Not an option. No. Halfborn Gunderson, I hate you so much.’ He coughed. Blood flecked his lips. ‘I hate you too, Mallory Keen.

One more thing," I said because I couldn't help myself. "Mallory, if your middle name is Audrey and your initials are M. A. K.. -" She raised an index finger. "Don't say it, Beantown." "We are totally calling you Mack now." "Mallory fumed. "My friends in Belfast used to call me that. Constantly." That wasn't a no so I decided we had permission.

Sam and I couldn’t have done it,” I admitted. “You’re the doer, just like Frigg said.” Jack floated over, his blade shuddering and warbling like a hand saw. “Frigg? Oh, man, I don’t like Frigg. She’s too quiet. Too devious. Too—” “She’s my ma,” Mallory grumbled. “Oh, that Frigg!” Jack said. “Yeah, she’s great.” “I hate her,” Mallory said. “Gods, me too!” Jack commiserated.

Wow," said Samirah as we approached the dock. "You're right, Alex. That ship is really yellow." I sighed. "Not you, too." Alex grinned. "I vote we name it the Big Banana. All in favour?" "Don't you dare," I said. "I love it," Mallory said, throwing Alex a mooring line. Keen and Gunderson had emerged from belowdecks in an apparent truce, though both sported fresh black eyes. "It's decided, then!" bellowed Halfborn. "The good ship Mikillgulr!" T.J. scratched his head. "There's an Old Norse term for big banana?" "Well, not exactly," Halfborn admitted. "The Vikings never sailed far enough south to discover bananas. But Mikillgulr means big yellow. That's close enough!" I looked skyward with a silent prayer: Frey, god of summer, Dad, thanks for the boat. But could I suggest that forest green is also a great summery colour, and please stop embarrassing me in front of my friends? Amen.

In 1969, both John and I began job hunting. I had finished my second master’s degree and started sending out resumes. I got several offers from various schools—Metropolitan State University in Denver, Keene State College in New Hampshire—and John also had some offers. But neither of us wanted to be a “trailing spouse.” What to do?Then we went to the College Art Association conference in Washington, D.C., and met Gene Grissom, chair of the art department at the University of Florida. They were looking for a young faculty member with some administrative experience, and John fit the bill perfectly. There was also a possibility for me to teach either art history or humanities. After several weeks of negotiations, we decided to make the move to Florida where BOTH of us had jobs!

You didn’t have to adjust under the watchful eye of Gabriel Keene.” “You’re right. I only had to adjust under the watchful eye of Ethan Sullivan. That was an utter cakewalk.

So, it wasn’t until I was living in Mexico that I first started enjoying chocolate mousse. See, there was this restaurant called La Lorraine that became a favorite of ours when John and I were living in Mexico City in 1964–65. The restaurant was in a beautiful old colonial period house with a large courtyard, red tile floors, and a big black and white portrait of Charles de Gaulle on the wall. The proprietor was a hefty French woman with grey hair swept up in a bun. She always welcomed us warmly and called us mes enfants, “my children.” Her restaurant was very popular with the folks from the German and French embassies located nearby. She wasn’t too keen on the locals. I think she took to us because I practiced my French on her and you know how the French are about their language! At the end of each evening (yeah, we often closed the joint) madame was usually seated at the table next to the kitchen counting up the evening’s receipts. Across from her at the table sat a large French poodle, wearing a napkin bib and enjoying a bowl of onion soup. Ah, those were the days… Oh, and her mousse au chocolate was to DIE for!

I’d never been happier to feel Yggdrasil’s bark beneath my fingers. I scurried up the trunk, scrambled through the branches, and finally found an opening to another world. I didn’t know which one it was until I tumbled out onto floor nineteen, right at Halfborn’s feet. “Mallory!” he yelled. “I’ve been looking all over for you, woman! You are the most reckless, foolhardy einherji—” I got to my feet and glared at him. Then I hurled myself into his arms. “Oh yeah?” I murmured against his bare chest. “Well . . . takes one to know one.

I kicked a rib cage off my foot and swaggered around the tree as if I owned the place. “Hey there!” Startled, Nidhogg stopped in mid-mutter. He stared at me, his huge yellow eyes blinking in confusion. Then, nostrils flaring dangerously, he let out a bellow that doubled as an impressive display of razor-sharp fangs. My heart faltered, but I swallowed my fear and pressed on. “Is that supposed to intimidate me?” I made a big show of rolling my eyes. “I’ve heard louder roars from Thor’s butt.” Nidhogg flinched as if I’d whacked him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. “That wasn’t very nice.” He sounded so hurt I almost felt sorry for him. Instead, I snorted with derision. “Buddy, I insult everyone.” I waved my daggers. “See these? They’re sharp, but not as sharp as my tongue.” Or your fangs, I added to myself as the dragon loomed in closer to inspect my blades. “Wow. Those are pointy.” Nidhogg looked genuinely impressed. “Are your insults really sharper than that?” “Mister, that question is so dumb it makes me think your brain is like Odin’s left eye socket—completely empty.” Nidhogg winced. “Wow. That really, really hurt. But you’re right, of course.” He tapped a daggerlike claw against his skull. “My brain is empty. Of insults, anyway.” That was my opening. I sheathed my daggers and cocked my head to one side as if considering something. “You know, I have some powerful one-liners that never fail to infuriate. I’d be willing to share a few, but what’s in it for me?” Nidhogg scratched his belly. “Well, for starters, I won’t eat you,” he offered. “Hmm. Tell you what. Let me climb up Yggdrasil when we’re done, and you’ve got a deal.” Nidhogg stuck out a claw. I thought he was going to slice me to ribbons, but then I realized he wanted to shake on it. I did so, very carefully. “Okay,” I said.