Mio My Mio Quotes

ma gia volgena il mio disio e'l velle si come rota ch'igualmente e mossa, l'amor che move: i sole e l'altre stelle ...as a wheel turns smoothtly, free from jars, my will and my desire were turned by love, The love that moves the sun and the other stars.

Dios mio, I think my brother lost his balls somewhere between here and Mexico. Or maybe Brittany has them zipped inside that fancy purse (of hers).

And what do you want right now?" Right now I itch to heal his wounds and forget my own. He touches my cheek with the tips of his fingers. My breath hitches. "Do you want to kiss me, Alex?" I whisper. "Dios mio, I want to kiss you ... to taste your lips, your tongue." He gently traces my lips withthe tips of his fingers. "Do you want me to kiss you? Nobody else would know but the two of us.

Slowly he turned into the curve of her palm, cut lip pressed against her skin. She heard two whispered words, felt them kissed into her flesh: amore mio. My love. Two words: the shock of them held her still.

Every day,” he whispered, “I’ll take you like this. In the morning, before coffee, I fuck you. At night, I fuck you harder. In our bedroom, our living room, our kitchen, I’ll love you in every room. Amore mio, I’ll break you with my love and put you back together. And when I retire, you still call me Capo because you’re mine. Always mine.

Jag är så rädd att få ett hjärta av sten, för jag tror att det skaver i bröstet och gör ont.

Then he turned to the Master Rose Gardener and said something even more peculiar, “I enjoy the birds singing. I enjoy the music of the silver poplars.

When I was a young man, I had liberty, but I did not see it. I had time, but I did not know it. And I had love, but I did not feel it. Many decades would pass before I understood the meaning of all three. And now, the twilight of my life, this understanding has passed into contentment. Love, liberty, and time: once so disposable, are the fuels that drive me forward. And love, most especially, mio caro. For you, our children, our brothers and sisters. And for the vast and wonderful world that gave us life, and keeps us guessing. Endless affection, mia Sofia. Forever yours, Ezio Auditore.

L'attesa é lunga, Il mio sogno de ti non é finito (The wait is long, My dream of you is not ended)

Io prego perché tu possa trovare la tua luce, mio figlio smarrito… I pray you find your light, my lost son…

We were close to him as never before, and this night was the night of our battle. I wondered if they knew, all those who had waited for thousands and thousands of years. I wondered if they knew that this was the night of the battle, and if they thought about me.

My Dearest Theresa, I have read this book in your garden, my love, you were absent, or else I could not have read it. It is a favourite book of mine. You will not understand these English words, and others will not understand them, which is the reason I have not scrawled them in Italian. But you will recognize the handwriting of him who passionately loved you, and you will divine that, over a book that was yours, he could only think of love. In that word, beautiful in all languages, but most so in yours, Amor mio, is comprised my existence here and thereafter. I feel I exist here, and I feel that I shall exist hereafter – to what purpose you will decide; my destiny rests with you, and you are a woman, eighteen years of age, and two out of a convent, I wish you had stayed there, with all my heart, or at least, that I had never met you in your married state. But all this is too late. I love you, and you love me, at least, you say so, and act as if you did so, which last is a great consolation in all events. But I more than love you, and cannot cease to love you. Think of me, sometimes, when the Alps and ocean divide us, but they never will, unless you wish it.

I understand the circumstances, and I chose you. Amore mio, you must believe that nothing can change my choice or how much I love you. There’s only one person who can keep me from you, and that’s you.

Dopo aver fatto l'amore, dormiremo abbracciati. La tua schiena contro il mio ventre. E io stringerò le dita dei piedi attorno alle tue caviglie, come delle mollette, perché tu non possa volar via la notte. Saremo come un'immagine in un libro di scienze: un frutto tagliato a metà, tu la buccia e io il torsolo.

Il mio vi ammazzera tutti!'- 'My man is will kill you all!

Sei il grande amore della mia vita. Il mio cuore è solo tuo Senza di te la vita non ha più senso. (You are the love of my life. My heart is yours. Without you, life has no meaning.) So never look away from me for too long.

Il mio piccola bella amore, I can’t change the past as much as I’d like to,” he said softly. “I can only tell you that you have my future. Only you.

L'attesa lunga, il mio sogno di te non finito.

Det var som när man rider i en dröm, en sådan där hemsk dröm, som man vaknar ur med ett skrik och ligger och är rädd av en lång stund efteråt. Men det här var inte en sådan dröm som man vaknade ur. Vi red och red. Vi visste inte vart. Vi visste inte hur långt. Vi bara red genom natten.

He cups my chin, thumb grazing the corner of my mouth, tracing my lips as they slide along his cock. “Vedere il mio cazzo tra quelle belle labbra è una fantasia che mi ha perseguitato dal momento in cui ci siamo incontrati.

Why are you studying Italian? So that - just in case Italy ever invades Ethiopia again, and is actually successful this time - you can brag about knowing a language that’s spoken in two whole countries? But I loved it. Every word was a singing sparrow, a magic trick, a truffle for me. I would slosh home through the rain after class, draw a hot bath, and lie there in the bubbles reading the Italian dictionary aloud to myself, taking my mind off my divorce pressures and my heartache. The words made me laugh in delight. I started referring to my cell phone as il mio telefonino (“my teensy little telephone”) I became one of those annoying people who always say Ciao! Only I was extra annoying, since I would always explain where the word ciao comes from.

E poi non ci sono più e sono qui, e sono tutto e non sono niente. E tutte le scelte che ho fatto, quelle buone e quelle cattive, quando ero viva, adesso hanno tutte una ragione, perché mi hanno condotto a questo momento liberatorio, a questa pace. È come se tutto il mondo fosse rinato e il mio viaggio fosse appena cominciato.

Sai cos'è la plebe?". "Sì, maestra". Cos'era la plebe lo seppi in quel momento, e molto più chiaramente di quando anni prima la Oliviero me l'aveva chiesto. La plebe eravamo noi. La plebe era quel contendersi il cibo insieme al vino, quel litigare per chi veniva servito per primo e meglio, quel pavimento lurido su cui passavano e ripassavano i camerieri, quei brindisi sempre più volgari. La plebe era mia madre, che aveva bevuto e ora si lasciava andare con la schiena contro la spalla di mio padre, serio, e rideva a bocca spalancata per le allusioni sessuali del commerciante di metalli. Ridevano tutti, anche Lila, con l'aria di chi ha un ruolo e lo porta fino in fondo.

Buon Natale,” she whispered, “amore mio.” “Merry Christmas, my love,” I answered.

So che non ci resta molto tempo, perciò dico le ultime due cose che voglio sappia fin dal momento in cui ho capito che era in grado di vedere il mio fantasma. «Io… ti amo e… mi dispiace così tanto». «Lo so. Ti amo anch’io», ripete, la bocca sui miei capelli. «Basta dispiaceri». Si allontana da me, adesso riesco di nuovo a vedergli il volto. «Lo sai che cosa vedo nel fiume?». Esita un istante, poi continua. «Te. Sempre te». Ogni singolo atomo di me esulta. Le mie labbra riescono a formare un’ultima parola, un’ultima promessa. «Sempre».

Mia madre vedeva sempre il male dove con mio grande fastidio si scopriva presto o tardi che il male c'era davvero, e il suo occhio strabico pareva fatto apposta per individuare i movimenti segreti del rione.

You say that about everything,” I complained, trailing after him. “Everything is a long story, too long to tell me. I suppose after two hundred years, or whatever, things get a little convoluted, but can’t you paraphrase? How do you know the Rectors?” When we rounded the corner, it became apparent there wouldn’t be time for any stories at all, paraphrased or not. Not because the gray clouds that were hanging so threateningly overhead had burst open, the way I was half expecting them to, but because the family we’d seen earlier, along with Mr. Smith and the people holding the clipboards, were climbing into their various vehicles in the parking lot right in front of us. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. We were just an ordinary young couple, taking a late afternoon stroll through the cemetery. I’d forgotten that, due to the “vandalism” that had occurred there earlier in the week, the cemetery gates (which John had kicked apart in a fit of temper) had been ordered locked twenty-four hours a day by the chief of police. So it kind of was a big deal. Still, that didn’t explain why one of the women-the grandmother, if her gray hair was any indication-took one look at my face, made the sign of the cross, cried, “Dios mio!” then passed out cold right in front of us.

Angel, mi hai cambiato. Mi dai una ragione per credere di nuovo. Voglio dirti che ti amo. Penso di averti amato dal primo momento in cui abbiamo parlato. Mi hai detto di trovare qualcuno che mi dicesse la mia verità e sarebbero stati la mia anima gemella. Sei mio.” Angel, you changed me. You’ve given me a reason to believe again. I want to tell you that I love you. I think I loved you from the first moment we spoke. You told me to find someone to tell me my truth and they would be my soul mate. You are mine.

Oh, Lily", mormora, scuotendo la testa. "Ne so parecchio dell'amore. So cosa significa volere una ragazza, sognarla e desiderarla con tutta l'anima. Ne so abbastanza da non confondere cosa è reale e cosa invece è solo frutto della mia fantasia." Gira un pochino la testa per guardarmi, e io mi ritrovo a dire: "Ti-tipo?" "Tipo quando lei piange e il mio cuore va in mille pezzi e tutto quello cui riesco a pensare è come farle dimenticare la causa della sua tristezza." Il suo viso è impassibile, senza l'ombra di un'emozione. Le sue parole, e tutto il sentimento che sottintendono e che mi travolgono grazie al legame, rendono tutto molto chiaro. "Questa è realtà." La mia voce è appena un sussurro quando gli dico: "E la fantasia?" "Credere che prima o poi anche lei proverà le stesse cose per me.

«Quando ero piccolo, mio nonno mi raccontava una storia a proposito dell’acqua del fiume. Diceva che se guardavi a lungo i riflessi del sole, l’acqua avrebbe premiato la tua pazienza facendoti apparire il viso del tuo vero amore». «Che storia dolce. E tu hai già visto il riflesso del tuo vero amore?», chiesi scherzosamente. Lui sostenne il mio sguardo abbastanza a lungo da farmi arrossire. «Sono stato molto paziente». Mi chinai a osservare l’acqua, sperando di riuscire a scorgere anch’io qualcosa. Ed eccolo lì, il suo riflesso ondeggiante accanto al mio.

Dreo laughed, kissing my ear before letting me go. “Sì, lui è mio,” he finished before walking away to go look at something. “What did he say?” Bryce asked brightly. “Something like ‘he’s mine’,” I said, because even though I wasn’t exactly sure of the translation, I knew possessiveness when I heard it.

I’ll take you like this. In the morning, before coffee, I fuck you. At night, I fuck you harder. In our bedroom, our living room, our kitchen, I’ll love you in every room. Amore mio, I’ll break you with my love and put you back together. And when I retire, you still call me Capo because you’re mine. Always mine.

Are you deliberately torturing me?” he growls. My heart kicks. Wild and unrhythmic. “Torturing you?” He raises the scotch, downing the contents in one fell swoop before returning the glass to his side. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” There’s a warning in his voice. A delicious subtle threat. My throat tightens. My chest, too. Everything is so painfully, invigoratingly restricted that I have to fight hard to maintain level breathing. I raise my other leg, crossing both at the ankles against the rim of the tub. I shouldn’t be doing this. Warning bells ring in the farthest recesses of my mind. If only they were loud enough to put a stop to the craziness. “Join me.” His jaw ticks. That’s his only response. No movement. No words. “Matthew?” His features tighten, almost setting in a glower as he grates, “Be sure about this, Layla.” “I think I am,” I lie. I’m not even partially certain. I’m running on instinct alone. No, not instinct—infatuation.  “Then I’m staying where I am.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the glass moving to rest in the crook of his arm. “I’m on the precipice here. I can only pretend to be a stand-up guy for so long, then I’m going to start pushing my own agenda. So don’t play with me, amore mio.

I had never before heard Mozart's "Idol mio", nor anything sung by so fine a singer as Signora Tirenza, the prima donna from Rome itself. Her astonishing voice transported me to another place of wordless emotion. All my life I had hoped to find that uplifting love that crowns some lucky spirits but evades others, however long they seek it. Would it always escape me? Or should I return home, and try even harder to nurture affection between Michael and myself?

Ciò che ero a scuola, lì ero obbligata a metterlo tra parentesi o a usarlo a tradimento, per intimidirli. Mi chiesi cosa ci facevo in quell'auto. C'erano i miei amici, certo, c'era il mio fidanzato, stavamo andando alla festa di nozze di Lila. Ma proprio quella festa ratificava che Lila, l'unica persona che sentivo ancora necessaria malgrado le nostre vite divergenti, non ci apparteneva più e, venendo meno lei, ogni mediazione tra me e quei giovani, quell'auto in corsa per quelle strade, si era esaurita.

Fu un momento indimenticabile. Andammo verso via Caracciolo, sempre più vento, sempre più sole. Il Vesuvio era una forma delicata color pastello ai piedi della quale si ammucchiavano i ciottoli biancastri della città, il taglio color terra di Castel dell'Ovo, il mare. Ma che mare. Era agitatissimo, fragoroso, il vento toglieva il fiato, incollava i vestiti addosso e levava i capelli dalla fronte. Ci tenemmo dall'altro lato della strada insieme a una piccola folla che guardava lo spettacolo. Le onde ruzzolavano come tubi di metallo blu portando in cima la chiara d'uovo della spuma, poi si frangevano in mille schegge scintillanti e arrivavano fin sulla strada con un oh di meraviglia e timore da parte di tutti noi che guardavamo. Che peccato che non c'era Lila. Mi stenti stordita dalle raffiche potenti, dal rumore. Avevo l'impressione che, pur assorbendo molto di quello spettacolo, moltissime cose, troppe si spampanassero intorno senza lasciarsi afferrare. Mio padre mi strinse la mano come se temesse che sgusciassi via. Infatti avevo voglia di lasciarlo, correre, spostarmi, attraversare la strada, farmi investire dalle scaglie brillanti del mare. In quel momento così tremendo, pieno di luce e di clamore, mi finsi sola nel nuovo della città, nuova io stessa con tutta la vita davanti, esposta alla furia mobile delle cose ma sicuramente vincitrice: io, io e Lila, noi due con quella capacità che insieme - solo insieme - avevamo di prendere la massa di colori, di rumori, di cose e persone, e raccontarcela e darle forza".

My car rounds the corner, riding the path to the body shop. When I spot Alex leaning on his motorcycle waiting for me in the parking lot, my pulse skips a beat. Oh, boy. I’m in trouble. Gone is his ever-present bandanna. Alex’s thick black hair rests on his forehead, daring to be swept back. Black pants and a black silk shirt have replaced his jeans and T-shirt. He looks like a young Mexican daredevil. I can’t help but smile as I park next to him. “Querida, you look like you’ve got a secret.” I do, I think as I step out of my car. You. “Dios mio. You look…preciosa.” I turn in a circle. “Is this dress okay?” “Come here,” he says, pulling me against him. “I don’t want to go to the wedding anymore. I’d rather have you all to myself.” “No way,” I say, running a slow finger along the side of his jaw. “You’re a tease.” I love this playful side of Alex. It makes me forget all about those demons. “I came to see a Latino wedding, and I expect to see one,” I tell him. “And here I thought you were comin’ to be with me.” “You’ve got a big ego, Fuentes.” “That’s not all I’ve got.

Dopo una dolce carezza come questa ieri mi sono lasciato trasportare sul prato davanti al deserto, e lì ho visto davvero me e te, incapaci di continuare a concentrarci sul testo. Spirava una brezza leggera, il mio giornale frusciava e le pagine del tuo libro si sono messe a scorrere da sole, velocemente. Erano le cinque di sera, il sole brillava ancora e ci siamo sentiti così chiari nella luce, quasi trasparenti. Se fosse passato qualcuno la magia sarebbe svanita, ma eravamo soli, e ancor prima di scambiarci una parola ci siamo trovati avviluppati nella ragnatela delle nostre storie. Tu hai la tua e io la mia, ed era incredibile sentire come si intrecciassero, rapidamente. Perché a volte, nei momenti più impensati, per strada, puoi sentire l’anima lacerarsi, catturata nella storia di qualcuno che ti è appena passato accanto. La maggior parte delle volte, però, quelle storie vengono sradicate e muoiono subito, senza che gli interessati si rendano conto di ciò che hanno perso. Rimane solo un leggero dolore che svanisce immediatamente, anche se in me a volte può durare ancora qualche ora, come se avessi avuto un piccolo aborto spirituale. E rimane una sorta di angoscia, la morte della storia.

What did Herr Settembrini think of the term "illusion" - a state in which elements of dream and reality were blended in a way that was perhaps less foreign to nature than to our crude everyday thoughts? The secret of life was literally bottomless, and it was no wonder, then, that occasionally there rose up out of it illusions that - and so on and so forth, in our hero's amiably self-effacing and exceedingly easy manner. Herr Settembrini hauled him over the coals quite properly and managed to firm up his conscience at least temporarily, extracting something like a promise never again to participate in such horrors. "Pay attention," he demanded, "to the human being inside you, my good engineer. Trust its clear and and humane thoughts and abhor this wrenching of the brain, this intellectual swamp. Illusions? Secret of life? Caro mio! When the moral courage to decide and differentiate between fraud and reality begins to melt away, that marks the end of life itself, of formed opinions, of values, of any improving deed, and the corruptive process of moral skepticism begins its awful work." Man was the measure of all things, he added, Man had an inalienable right to make knowledgeable judgements about good and evil, about truth and the sham of lies, and woe anyone who dared confound his fellow-man's belief in that creative right.

Vorrei solo poter restare qui tutta la notte e continuare a scrivere. Scrivere mi fa bene. Lo sento. Anche quando scrivo cose tristi, qualcosa in me si tranquillizza, sento di avere uno scopo. Voglio rimanere qui e raccontare le cose più semplici. Descrivere la foglia che è appena caduta. O la catasta di sedie in veranda. O le falene attratte dalla lampada. E raccontare ciò che avviene durante la notte finché il buio si tramuta in luce, fino ai cambiamenti di colore. Potrei rimanere qui seduta per giorni e notti a descrivere ogni stelo d'erba, ogni fiore, i sassi del muretto, le pigne. Solo dopo, quando mi sentirò pronta, passerò a scrivere di me. Del mio corpo, per esempio. Comincerò da lui, da ciò che è tangibile. Ma anche con lui partirò da lontano, dalle dita dei piedi, per avvicinarmi piano piano. Descriverò ogni sua parte, ne annoterò le sensazioni, quelle di un tempo e quelle attuali. I ricordi della caviglia, per esempio, o della guancia, o del collo. Perché no? Attraverso le carezze, i baci e le cicatrici. Mantenermi viva con la scrittura. Ci vorrà un sacco di tempo ma ne ho molto a mia disposizione. La vita è lunga e voglio raccontare di me stessa, raccontare quello che probabilmente nessuno mi racconterà mai. La mia storia. Senza aggiunte, ma anche senza detrazioni. Scrivere senza pretendere nulla. Da nessuno. Scrivere solo la mia voce.

Mama made the coach stop at a barber shop around the corner from their house. 'Go in there,' she told Francie, 'and get your father’s cup.' Francie didn't know what she meant. 'What cup?' she asked. 'Just ask for his cup.' Francie went in. There were two barbers but no customers. One of the barbers sat on one of the chairs in a row against the wall. His left ankle rested on his right knee and he cradled a mandolin. He was playing 'O, Sole Mio.' Francie knew the song. Mr. Morton had taught it to them saying the title was 'Sunshine.' The other barber was sitting in one of the barber chairs looking at himself in the long mirror. He got down from the chair as the girl came in. 'Yes?' he asked. 'I want my father’s cup.' 'The name?' 'John Nolan.' 'Ah, yes. Too bad.' He sighed as he took a mug from the row of them on a shelf. It was a thick white mug with 'John Nolan' written on it in gold and fancy block letters. There was a worn-down cake of white soap at the bottom of it and a tired-looking brush. He pried out the soap and put it and the brush in a bigger unlettered cup. He washed Johnny’s cup. While Francie waited, she looked around. She had never been inside a barber shop. It smelled of soap and clean towels and bay rum. There was a gas heater which hissed companionably. The barber had finished the song and started it over again. The thin tinkle of the mandolin made a sad sound in the warm shop. Francie sang Mr. Morton’s words to the song in her mind. Oh, what’s so fine, dear, As a day of sunshine. The storm is past at last. The sky is blue and clear. Everyone has a secret life, she mused.

Luca waits patiently while she clutches him, kisses him, pats his cheek, muttering “mio bellissimo figlio,” “my beautiful son,” something an English boy would loathe and detest with every fiber of his being. Luca doesn’t seem to mind at all: Italian boys are clearly very used to being complimented in public by their mothers. Finally he detaches himself, kisses Catia goodbye, and looks over at me. I realize I’m between him and the main door. I actually start to slip behind the armchair, as if I need a barricade between me and Luca; I’m frightened, physically frightened, of what might happen if he kisses me in public. Not that we might become overcome with passion, nothing that silly, just that I might give myself away, cling to him like the principessa just did… “Violetta,” he says softly, and before I know it, he’s crossed the room to me with two brief strides of his long legs. He takes hold of my shoulders, looks down at me. I brace myself. But he doesn’t kiss me at all. He just says, equally softly, “A presto,” releases me, and walks out of the salon. There’s silence for a long moment as we all watch him go: then, like air whizzing out of a balloon, we all deflate. No more excitement for us. The hot boy has left the building.

You're considerate and funny and you're a lover out of my dreams. Should I develop a taste for luxuries- which I may well do after this week- you're so plump in the pocket, you wouldn't notice if I started buying gold-plated underthings." His smile was uncertain, nonetheless it was a smile. Her churning misery eased a fraction. "I'd notice anything you did with your undergarments, amore mio.

The dresses are indecent," she said stiffly, the rich silk flowing against her body like water. "But pretty." She shot him another fulminating glance. His eyes lit with that unholy glint she'd learned to mistrust. "Admit it. It's a gorgeous dress and you look gorgeous in it." "It's made for a courtesan." He snorted. "What do you know about courtesans, sweet little lamb?" She narrowed her eyes. "Knowing about courtesans is no character recommendation." "Cutting." His smile reeked satisfaction. "Yet still you wear the gown." "Mrs. Bevan took away my muslin." "She must need a dishclout." She didn't know why she argued. Who could object to wearing something so stylish? While the silk might cling to her body, it wouldn't raise an eyebrow in any London salon. Especially on a lady no longer an ingenue. "No respectable woman would wear this dress." He trailed one finger down her cheek, tracing a prickling path of awareness. "But, amore mio, you're no longer a respectable woman. You're a monster's paramour.

We feel something special between us, Gio. You took me there, on the bed, and I will let you take me again, and again." Her fingers brushed my mouth, pulling softly at my lips. "But, caro, I do so because we are forging something new, something that will, I hope, take us through our lives to the very end." A surge of passion pushed through me, overflowing like wine in a too-small goblet. I pressed my lips against hers and tasted her sweetness once more. One hand entwined in her hair, the other against her back. "You are right, cuore mio. Ti amo, ti amo." She held off my kisses, her hand against my cheek. "And I you, Gio. Your face has haunted my dreams since I first saw you. But if you love me, if you want me to stand by your side and to warm your bed..." Her hand squeezed my backside and I drew in a deep breath. "Just as we are now, when we kiss, when we touch, we must be one in the way we speak behind closed doors," she continued. "I will give you everything and tell you everything. And, Gio, you must promise me the same." Her hand had found its way to the front of me. "Yes, dolcezza mia," I breathed, unable to say anything else, unable to think of anything other than her fingers against my sex, her voice hot in my ear. She fell to her knees and took me in her mouth. My hands clutched her head, feeling the motion of her against me. When I thought I could take no more, I pushed her back, to the floor, pulled up her skirts, and drove myself between her thighs. "I promise, Isabetta," I whispered in her ear as I melted into her.

His hands brush over his chin. “Is that what you think this is?” He closes the gap between us. “You think that this is hate?” His thumb presses down on my bottom lip, making me tremble. “Then why? Why are you doing all of this? Why are you messing with me? None of it makes sense!” “Non sei ancora mio.

A spade. “Gio.” I touch the raw skin on my collar bone. “What did you just do?” “Sei mio.

Sii sempre la calma in ogni tempesta, figlio mio. – always be the calm in every storm, my son.

You think a month would be long enough to get over you, bella?” he asked, the rich, deep tone of his voice sending a shiver down my spine as delicious as tasting sin itself. “A month is nothing, a year even less, a lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to remove the mark you’ve placed on my heart. So no, it’s not enough time, amore mio, but it’s too long all the same.

Il mio dono dai cieli," he breathed, the words making the hairs stand up alone the back of my neck. "My gift from the heavens.

Elise was quiet and her features tight, so I held her close and whispered a promise in her ear. “Ti darò la sua morte, mio unico vero amore. E ogni stella del cielo verrà a vederlo soffrire per mano tua.” I will deliver his death to you, my one true love. And every star in the sky will come to watch him suffer at your hands.

My science is you, my art is you, Il mattino della mia mente sei tu. La mia casa tu, il mio cielo tu, La verità della mia vita sei tu.

What does mios mean?” she asked innocently. His eyes flashed up before he answered, settling on a head of dark hair twenty paces up the trail. Evander was supposed to be scouting the path, but his eyes were fixed on the ground. “It’s a combination of two words,” Eden answered quietly. “Lios means love. Mio is our word for heart. When put together, it simply means...my beloved.

Mentre si risveglia lentamente, mio marito mi si avvicina, ma io mi giro in tempo per sfuggire alle sue braccia. È la regola, non devo cedere. Ieri sera si è addormentato senza darmi la buonanotte, non ha fatto un bel niente per meritarsi le mie carezze al risveglio. E non se ne parla proprio di abbassare la guardia.

We’ve had a long month, amore mio. Let’s get some food in your stomach and relax, yeah?” “I have a really bad joke about putting something else in my stomach, but let’s not go there.” Just as the words slip from my tongue, my eyes widen. “Wow, I so meant your dick, but that sounded even worse out loud.

Tell me you're mine," I murmur, thinking I'm the only person who can hear it. Alessandro leans over me, making sure our eyes lock, licks my lips, and tells me, "I'm yours, mio dolce.

Are you worried? About moving to Russia?” She smiled. “No, mio caro figlio. I’m not worried either.” She kissed him. “My lovely, living boy,” she said, kissing him between each word. “My hope”—kiss—“my happiness”—kiss—“my love, my life, my joy.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

And yet erewhile, when thou wert in the ear, Even as a (golden) glittering grain, even then The fireflies came to cast on thee their light ^ And aid thy growth, because without their help Thou couldsl not grow nor beautiful become; Therefore thou dost belong unto the race Of witches or of fairies, and because The fireflies do belong unto the sun. . , , Queen of the Fireflies ! hurry apace,-Come to me now as if running a race, Bridle the horse as you hear me now sing! Bridle, O bridle the son of the king ! Come in a hurry and bring him to me! The son of the king will ere long set thee free; ' Theie is an evident association here of [he body of the firefly which much resembles a grain of wheat) wilh the latter. ' The six lines followiDg are oilen heard as 3. nursery rhyme. And because thou for ever art brilliant and fair, Under a glass I will keep thee; while there, With a lens I will study thy secrets concealed, Till all their bright mysteries are fully revealed. Yea, all the wondrous lore perplexed Of this life of our cross and of the next. Thus to all mysteries I shall attain, Yea, even to that at last of the grain; And when this at last I shall truly know. Firefly, freely I'll let thee go! When Earth's dark secrets are known to me. My blessing at last I will give to thee! Here follows the Conjuration of the Salt. Conjuration of the Salt. I do conjure thee, salt, lo! here at noon, Exactly in the middle of a stream I take my place and see the water round, Likewise the sun, and think of nothing else White here besides the water and the sun: For all my soul is turned in truth to them; I do indeed desire no other thought, I yearn to learn the very truth of truths. For I have suffered long with the desire To know my future or my coming fate. If good or evil will prevail in it. Water and sun, be gracious unto me ! Here follows the Conjuration of Cain. AMDU Scongiurasione di Caino. Tuo Caino, tu non possa aver Ne pace e ne bene fino che Dal sole' andaCe non sarai coi piedi Correndo, le mani battendo, E pregarlo per me che mi faccia sapere, II mio destino, se cattiva fosse, Allora me lo faccia cambiare, Se questa grazia mi farete, L' acqua al lo splendor del sol la guardero: E tu Caino colla tua bocca mi diiai II mio destino quale sark: Se questa grazia o Caino non mi farai, Pace e bene non avrai! The

THE CHARM OF THE STONES CONSECRATED TO DIANA To find a stone with a hole in it is a special sign of the favour of Diana, He who does so shall take it in his hand and repeat the following, having observed the ceremony as enjoined: — Scongiurazione della pietra bucata. Una pietra bucata U ho trovato; Ne ringrazio il destin, E k) spirito che su questa via Mi ha portata, Che passa essere il mio bene, E la mia buona fortuna! Mi alzo la mattina al alba, E a passegio me ne vo Nelle valli, monti e campi, La fortuna cercarvo Della ruta e la verbena, Quello so porta fortuna Me lo tengo in senno chiuso £ saperlo nessuno no le deve, £ cosi cio che commendo, " La verbena far ben per me ! Benedica quella strege! Quella fata che mi segna!" Diana fu quella Che mi venne la notte in sogno E mi disse : " Se tu voir tener Le cattive persone da te lontano, Devi tenere sempre ruta con te, Sempre ruta con te e verbena!" Diana, tu che siei la regina Del cielo e della terra e dell* inferno, E siei la prottetrice degli infelici, Dei ladri, degli assassini, e anche Di donne di mali afifari se hai conosciuto, Che non sia stato V indole cattivo Delle persone, tu Diana, Diana li hai fatti tutti felici! Una altra volta ti scongiuro Che tu non abbia ne pace ne bene, Tu possa essere sempre in mezzo alle pene^ Fino che la grazia che io ti chiedo Non mi farai! THE CHARM OF THE STONES Invocation to the Holy-Stone} I have found A holy-stone upon the ground. O Fate! I thank thee for the happy find, Also the spirit who upon this road Hath given it to me; And may it prove to be for my true good And my good fortune I I rise in the morning by the earliest dawn, And I go forth to walk through (pleasant) vales. All in the mountains or the meadows fair, Seeking for luck while onward still I roam, Seeking for rue and vervain scented sweet, Because they bring good fortune unto all. I keep them safely guarded in my bosom, That none may know it—'tis a secret thing. And sacred too, and thus I speak the spell: " O vervain ! ever be a benefit, And may thy blessing be upon the witch Or on the fairy who did give thee to me ! " It was Diana who did come to me, All in the night in a dream, and said to me: " If thou would'st keep all evil folk afar, Then ever keep the vervain and the rue Safely beside thee I" I hole ii . But such a slone is IS really a claim to the ARADIA Great Diana I thou Who art the queen of heaven and of earth, And of the inferna! lands—yea, thou who art Protectress of all men unfortunate, Of thieves and murderers, and c Who lead an evil life, and yet hast known That their nature was not evil, thou, Diana, Hast still conferred on them some joy in life.' Or I may truly at another time So conjure thee that thou shalt have no peace Or happiness, for thou shalt ever be In suffering until thou grantest that Which 1 require in strictest faith from thee! [Here

As I close my chemistry book, out of the corner of my eye I see Alex run his hand through his hair. “Listen, I didn’t mean to be rude to you before.” “That’s okay. I got too nosy.” “You’re right.” I stand, feeling uncomfortable. He grabs my arm and urges me back down. “No,” he says, “I mean you’re right about me. I don’t place anything permanent here.” “Why?” “My dad,” Alex says, staring at the picture on the opposite wall. He squeezes his eyes shut. “God, there was so much blood.” He opens his eyes and captures my gaze. “If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that nobody is here forever. You have to live for the moment, each and every day…the here, the now.” “And what do you want right now?” Right now I itch to heal his wounds and forget my own. He touches my cheek with the tips of his fingers. My breath hitches. “Do you want to kiss me, Alex?” I whisper. “Dios mio, I want to kiss you…to taste your lips, your tongue.” He gently traces my lips with the tips of his fingers. “Do you want me to kiss you? Nobody else would know but the two of us.

TO VICTOR HUGO OF MY CROW PLUTO “Even when the bird is walking we know that it has wings.”—VICTOR HUGO Of: my crow Pluto, the true Plato, azzurronegro green-blue rainbow — Victor Hugo, it is true we know that the crow “has wings,” however pigeon-toe- inturned on grass. We do. (adagio) Vivorosso “corvo,” although con dizionario io parlo Italiano— this pseudo Esperanto which, savio ucello you speak too — my vow and motto (botto e totto) io giuro è questo credo: lucro è peso morto. And so dear crow— gioièllo mio— I have to let you go; a bel bosco generoso, tuttuto vagabondo, s erafino uvaceo Sunto, oltremarino verecondo Plato, addio. (((((Impromptu equivalents for esperanto madinusa (made in U.S.A.) for those who might not resent them. azzurro-negro: blue-black vivorosso: lively con dizionario: with dictionary savio ucello: knowing bird botto e totto: vow and motto io giuro: I swear è questo credo: is this credo lucro è peso morto: profit is a dead weight gioièllo mio: my jewel a bel bosco: to lovely woods tuttuto vagabondo: complete gypsy serafino uvaceo: grape-black seraph sunto: in short verecondo: modest))))

L'idea che esista la persona ideale per ciascuno di noi è troppo bella per essere vera. Sa di favola, non di realtà. Non che mi dispiacesse indulgere ogni tanto al sogno, ma sapevo di dover tornare alla realtà. -Il mio sbaglio preferito-

Mi tiene il polso alzato, controllando che non perda ancora. Lui è caldo, stranamente caldo in confronto a tutto il resto. La notte è fredda, come il cemento su cui sono sdraiato, come il mio sangue sparso un po’ dappertutto. Lui è caldo. Cerco di ridere, ma non mi viene.

Guardo Edith, ormai avanti negli anni: dopo avermi cercato con gli occhi e trovato ai margini di quel giardino solatio, intento a scrivere sul mio solito quaderno rilegato di pelle lista e scolorita, mi scruta da lontano, lasciando affiorare un sorriso che le increspa appena le labbra. È lì e aspetta, come sempre, seduta nella sua poltrona preferita sotto il portico della candida villa in cui viviamo da vent’anni, immersa nel verde e nei fiori. Vorrei dirle che il problema non è nostro, ma del mondo, che non ama le cose semplici. Il mondo è un caos d’idee complicate che si fanno la guerra fra loro, senza lasciare spazio alla ragionevolezza, e a coloro che si lanciano in fantasticherie idealistiche non offre che buche in cui seppellirle, quando giunge il momento di raccoglierne i pezzi. Adesso che anche l’ultimo grande sogno è finito, un’altra Grande Guerra è alle porte. Se sarà ancora peggiore della precedente, probabilmente sarà l’ultima. (...) Sostando in piedi all’ombra del grande albero, Edith fissa un punto lontano, all’orizzonte, appoggiandosi alla staccionata bianca, e continua a fissarlo fin quasi a farsi lacrimare gli occhi.

When I spot Alex leaning on his motorcycle waiting for me in the parking lot, my pulse skips a beat. Oh, boy. I'm in trouble. Gone is his ever-present bandanna. Alex's thick black hair rests on his forehead, daring to be swept back. Black pants and a black silk shirt have replaced his jeans and T-shirt. He looks like a young Mexican daredevil. I can't help but smile as I park next to him. "Querida, you look like you've got a secret." I do, I think as I step out of my car. You. "Dios mio. You look ... preciosa." I turn in a circle. "Is this dress okay?" "Come here," he says, pulling me against him. "I don't want to go to the wedding anymore. I'd rather have you all to myself." "No way," I say, running a slow finger along the side of his jaw. "You're a tease.

Lei è simile alle montagne russe. Piange e ride. Rimango stordito di continuo. Solo grazie a lei il mio mondo, che era grigio, si è riempito di colori. Quindi è una persona molto forte e brillante!

Do you know what attracts a predator to its prey, amore mio?” “What?” I whisper. “When it’s hurt,” he murmurs, placing a featherlight kiss on my jaw. “I love it when you’re hurt, baby, but only when it’s me who inflicts the pain.” A whimper escapes as his teeth graze where his lips once were. “You will heal, Sawyer. And as long as you are with me, you will never have to cause pain again. But when you are between my teeth, I will make you bleed. I will make you hurt instead.

His lips lightly skim across the shell of my ear. “Would you scream this time?” he questions darkly. “You always do when you create your own little ocean all over me.” “Fuck you,” I breathe, accompanied by a full body shudder when he rolls his hips again. “I won’t. I’ve already conquered your ocean, amore mio. You have nothing left to give that I want.

Would you like me to crawl to you, bella? Bow at your feet and find a home beneath you? Or would you like to climb onto my back, where I will serve you and take you to places with a point of your finger?” “Would you?” she volleys back. “Would you cater to my every need, no matter what I ask of you?” “You will need for nothing, amore mio. Ti daró tutto.” “Good boy,” she whispers, her voice sultry and teasing.

My mind didn’t do this pussy justice, Il mio sole.

Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.” Dante rubbed his thumb over my nape. “Per te aspetterei per sempre, amore mio.” “Spero non ci vorrà così tanto.“ I smiled at his shock. “I speak six languages, Dante. Italian is one of them.” “You’re full of surprises.” He kissed me again, his face softening. “Ti amo.” I love you. “I love you too.

But the worst kind of blow you can strike against me is betrayal. I cannot let deceit and duplicity go unpunished. I could not let someone paint themselves out to be my friend, mio amico, and then spit in my face. Bring shame on my family. There will always be repercussions for such wounds.

Non nasconderti da me, amore mio,” I murmured. Don’t hide from me, my love.

A sense of power floods my veins as I stare down at my husband while he orgasms, and I say, “That’s right, amore mio. Come hard for me. Fill me with your release so I can give you an heir.

I just wanted to be quiet and alone – get my head around everything. Make sure I was really back to normal. I drank hot chocolate and … waited. I even slept for a bit. When I was sure nothing bad was going to happen, I came home. And, you know, found Mio nearly being eaten by a giant spider.”   “What? I didn’t see that!” Jack yelped.   “You were too busy grabbing the firebombs,” Hikaru put in. “I saw it, though. Rachel clocked it in the side and knocked it right off. It went flying.”   I gave Rachel a questioning look.   She shrugged again and put down her mug on the coffee table. Picking up an empty metal serving plate with her right hand, she poked it sharply with the index finger of her left. There was a rending noise, and Rachel’s finger popped out of the bottom of the plate.   “I’m pretty strong,” she said, with what I thought was epic understatement. “But I can control it now.”   Seeing the alarmed expressions on Hikaru and my dad’s faces, I quickly said, “The king – your king, Hikaru – told me this could happen. If people recover from the Nekomata’s bite, they have gifts. Seeing in the dark. Speed. Strength.”   “Let me get this straight,” Jack said slowly. “My sister is Catwoman now?”   “I suppose that makes you the Joker, then.” Rachel reached out to mess up Jack’s spiky hair.   Jack squeaked, trying to bat Rachel’s hands away. “Not the hair!”   “Oh, please. Try that on me when you don’t have an inch of roots.”   Hikaru leaned out of their way, looking confused and not sure if he should try to intervene. I could sympathize. Siblings were odd.

His fingers cupped my face, cradling my cheek and jaw as if I was made of glass. I found a handful of his soft hair and wound my fingers into it, while curling my other hand into the shoulder of his leather coat. My heart hadn’t even stopped thundering from the Foul Woman’s presence. Now it was thrumming against my ribs again, too fast to count the beats. I did something I’d always secretly wanted to and bit down, very gently, on his beautiful bottom lip. Shinobu’s breath shivered into my mouth, and he pulled me closer.   I was taller now, but not tall enough. Tiptoes didn’t bring me where I wanted to be either. I jumped and hauled myself up the steel pillar of his body, wrapping one leg around his hip. The big, warm hand on my waist slid slowly down the thin fabric of my trousers to cup my thigh, supporting my weight. His other hand was clenched in my hair. A wave of almost painful excitement and yearning crashed through me, and sent me into a full-body shudder that I had no chance of hiding. A tiny moan popped from my lips straight into his.   “Mio. Oh, Mio…” His shaking voice echoed in my ears, mixing with words in Japanese. I recognized some of them. My beloved. My Mio. He pressed his mouth to my eyelid, my cheek, the edge of my jaw, the skin beneath my ear.   There was a loud tearing noise. We both froze.   Abruptly I was aware of the wall against my back, and the tremble in my thigh from hanging onto him like a demented spider monkey. I swallowed and blinked as Shinobu eased back, letting my feet drop to the pavement again. Our eyes met.   “What just…?” I asked.   He cleared his throat. “I think – my shirt.”   I looked down and saw that at some point I’d traded my grip on his hair for a handful of the T-shirt and jumper under his jacket. My fingers had gone straight through the thin wool and made a nice tear in the cotton beneath that too.   “Darn super-strength,” I muttered.   Shinobu’s lip twitched up at the corner again. I snatched my hand away from his ruined clothes and clapped it over his mouth. “No laughing at me,” I said, only half joking. “Not at a moment like this. Romance will die forever and it’ll be your fault.” He peeled my hand off and pressed a kiss to my palm. “Where are we now? What is this place?” “Um … Remnant Street, I think.”   “No. From now on it will be Paradise Street. Heaven Road. Happiness Avenue.”   “You big cheese-ball…” I muttered, putting my arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.   “What?”   “Never mind!” I grumped, then sighed. “I wish we could stay on Happiness Avenue a bit longer…”   “But we can’t,” he finished. “It is all right. I promise we will come back whenever you want.

Affresco della notte palombara Fresco of the underwater night Immersa nel recinto di figure Sunk in a knot of figures Strette all’attore, custodia di parole Surrounding the actor, keeper of words; Fame e miniera di nostalgia alle due Hunger and quarry of longing Del pomerrigio, l’ora di mezzo At 2 pm, the middle hour Priva di preghiere, che non presume Without prayer that doesn’t presume Ma si affatica strana dietro l’immensita But labors strangely over the afternnon’s Del pommerigio, molto o popolata immensita Hugeness, crowded hugeness Di guarigione, che si allontana Of healing that drifts off; Insieme al tuo silenzio intento e affacendato And your focused silence bent on A togliermi dal sole, mio sole virtuoso Taking my sun, my virtuous son Per il quale io son quel che sono Thanks to which I am what I am In piena luce, sono el mondo In daylight, I am in the world Assieme agile atra, agli atra quasi uguale. With others, others almost like me.

Dal cielo cader vid'io due stelle / e sul volto al idol mio / di sua mano amor le pose. (I saw two bright stars fall from the sky / Love picked them up and placed them on my lover's face)

Succhia il mio cazzo.” “Translate,” I whisper. “I don’t understand you.” He grabs a handful of my hair and tugs my head back sharply so our eyes meet. “Then learn, because I only fuck in Italian.

Ti darò la sua morte, mio unico vero amore. E ogni stella del cielo verrà a vederlo soffrire per mano tua.” I will deliver his death to you, my one true love. And every star in the sky will come to watch him suffer at your hands.

You want to kiss her, amore mio?” Micah asks, sitting his chin on my shoulder. “She has the softest fucking lips.” Oh. My. God.

I know I love you, or it wouldn’t hurt this bad. You’re in my dreams, my every waking thought. All I can think about is you, Amore mio. Please give me a chance to prove I can be the man you deserve.

Frasi iniziali Bleach Vol. #1-46 "Noi temiano ciò che non possiamo vedere" (Volume 1 - The Death And The Strawberry - Ichigo) "Le persone hanno speranza perché la morte è invisibile ai loro occhi" (Volume 2 - Goodbye Parakeet, Goodinte My Sista - Rukia) "Se io fossi pioggia che riesce ad unire cielo e terra divisi in eterno potrei riuscire ad unire due anime allo stesso modo? (Volume 3 - Memories In The Rain - Orihime) Siamo attratti l'uno verso l'altro come gocce d'acqua, come i pianeti ci respingiamo l'uno contro l'altro come i magneti, come il colore della pelle. (Volume 4 - Quincy Archer Hates You - Ishida) "Se non impugno una spada non posso difenderti, se impugno una spada non posso abbracciarti." (Volume 5 - Rightarm Of The Giant - Chad) "Già, per noi non esiste il destino. Soltanto chi, inghiottito dall'ignoranza e dalla paura, mette il piede in fallo scivola nelle torbide acque chiamate destino (Volume 6 - The Death Trilogy Overture - Urahara) "Non dobbiamo piangere che è la resa del corpo nei confronti del cuore, nient'altro che la prova che non siamo in grado di gestire ciò che chiamiamo cuore." (Volume 7 - The Broken Coda - Byakuya) "Se arrugginisce, non potrà più trafiggere se perdi la presa, ti taglierà Già, l'orgoglio è simile a una spada" (Volume 8 - The Blade and Me - Zangetsu) "Già, noi tutti sogniamo ad occhi aperti di volare in cielo." (Volume 9 - Fourteen Days for Conspiracy - Kukaku Shiba) "Noi allunghiamo le braccia spazziamo via le nuvole penetriamo il cielo e afferriamo la Luna e Marte ma non riusciamo ancora a raggiungere la verità" (Volume 10 - Tattoo on the Sky - Ganju Shiba) "Darò fuoco a queste zanne che non possono raggiungere così da non vedere quella stella così da non dover tagliare questa gola." (Volume 11 - A Star and a Stray Dog - Renji) "Pensiamo che un fiore cresciuto sul ciglio di un precipizio sia bello, perché i nostri piedi si fermano sul quel ciglio. Non riusciamo ad avanzare su quel cielo come quel fiore impavido." (Volume 12 - Flower on the Precipice - Aizen) "Ogni volta che rinunciamo al nostro orgoglio, ci avviciniamo di un passo alla bestia. Ogni volta che soffochiamo il nostro cuore, ci allontaniamo di un passo alla bestia." (Volume 13 - The Undead - Zaraki Kenpachi) "Scricchiola, scricchiola, torre del Purgatorio, che squarci il mondo come la luce. Trema, trema, torre della spina dorsale, a precipitare saremo noi o il cielo? " (Volume 14 - White Tower Rocks - Hanataro Yamada) "Io non farò altro che esercitarmi a dirti addio." (Volume 15 - The Beginning of the Death of Tomorrow - Kira) "La criniera del sole si riversa a terra cancellando le orme sul ghiaccio sottile Non temere di venire ingannato il mondo sorge già sull'inganno" (Volume 16 - Night of Wijnruit - Hitsugaya) "Rosso come il sangue bianco come le ossa rosso come la solitudine bianco come il silenzio rosso come i nervi di una belva bianco come il cuore di un dio rosso come l'odio che sgorga sciogliendoti bianco come il dolore che ti agghiaccia rosso come l'ombra che divora la notte come un sospiro che trapassa la luna splende di bianco, si spegne di rosso." (Volume 17 - Rosa Rubicundior, Lilio Candidior - Yoruichi) "La tua ombra furtiva come un ago avvelenato senza destinazione cuce il mio cammino. La tua luce flessuosa come un fulmine che colpisce una torre piezometrica tronca la fonte della mia vita." (Volume 18 - The Deathberry Returns - Soi Fong) "Sì, niente e nessuno può cambiare il mio mondo." (Volume 19 - The Black Moon Rising - Ichigo) "Chi paragona l'amore alla bellezza non conosce il volto dell'amore. Chi paragona l'amore alla bruttezza vanta di aver conosciuto l'amore." (Volume 20 - End of Hypnosis - Gin) "Tutto a questo mondo esiste per metterti con le spalle al muro." (Volume 21 - Be My Family or Not - Shinji)

Frasi iniziali di Bleach "Il nostro mondo non ha alcun significato neppure noi che ci viviamo abbiamo alcun significato noi privi di significato pensiamo al mondo nonostante anche l'essere consci che non abbia significato farlo sia privo di significato." (Volume 22 - Conquistadores - Ulquiorra) "Noi siamo il pesce davanti alla cascata, siamo l'insetto in gabbia. Siamo un relitto in balia dei marosi, il khakkara del teschio un violente torrente di forza la balena che lo ingoia. Noi siamo il toro a cinque corna noi siamo il mostro che soffia fuoco un bambino che grida piangendo. Aah, noi siamo avvelenati dalla luce della Luna." (Volume 23 - Mala Suerte! - Ikkaku) "Finite in pezzi, tutti quanti." (Volume 24 - Immanent God Blues - Grimmjow) "Noi tutti nasciamo già morti. La fine è già lì ancor prima dell'inizio. Se vivere significa continuare a imparare è la fine l'ultima cosa che impareremo e, una volta scoperta, ciò che conosceremo appieno sarà la morte. Non dobbiamo cercare d'imparare nulla, coloro che non possono trascendere la morte non devono tentare di sapere nulla." (Volume 25 - No Shaking Throne - Shirosaki) "Quella voce che come una lama mi trapassa il petto somiglia a un incessante grido di gioia." (Volume 26 - The Mascaron Drive - Luppi) " Noi come singolo non possiamo mischiarci, come coppia non abbiamo la stessa forma. Non possediamo gli occhi del terzo, quindi nella direzione del quarto non vi è speranza. Il quinto è nel posto del cuore." (Volume 27 - Goodbye, Halcyon Days- Orihime) "Mio signore, noi vi guardiamo con l'espressione di chi osserva un magnifico pavone adornata di qualcosa d'infinito simile alla speranza, all'adorazione e alla paura." (Volume 28 - Baron's Lecture Full-Course - Dordoni) "Ti ostini ad agghindarti pur sapendo che ti aspetta la falce. Ti ostini a farti bella pur sapendo che ti aspetta la falce. E' spaventoso, è spaventoso il momento in cui verrai falciata. I tuoi capelli recisi somiglieranno a te, priva di vita. Sia i miei capelli che le mie unghie sono stupendi, come tesori perché basta che vengano separati dal mio corpo per diventare qualcosa di sporco e disgustoso? La risposta è semplice: essi così non sono altro che l'immagine della mia morte." (Volume 29 - The Slashing Ópera - Cirucci) "La tua ferita è profonda come gli abissi dell'oceano Il tuo delitto scarlatto scolorirà con la morte." (Volume 30 - There Is No Heart Without You - Kaien Shiba) "Dimmi che sono colui che odi di più al mondo." (Volume 31 - Don't Kill My Volupture - Szayel Aporro Granz) "Il re arriva la galoppo liberandosi della sua ombra, facendo stridere l'armatura calciando le ossa succhiando carne e sangue digrignando distrugge il cuore e la mente lungo il cammino solitario verso un luogo remoto e lontano." (Volume 32 - Howling - Grimmjow) "Noi siamo parassiti vermi che strisciano sotto l'ombra di un intento malvagio indissolvibile Alzerò la testa più in alto della luna finché non vedrò più voialtri miserabili" (Volume 33 - The Bad Joke - Nnoitra) "Se mi darai un paio di ali, io volerò per te anche se la terra intera dovesse venire sommersa dall'acqua Se tu mi darai una spada, io combatterò per te anche se il cielo intero dovesse trapassarti di luce" (Volume 34 - King Of The Kill - Nel) "Nascere è come morire" (Volume 35 - Higher Than The Moon - Mayuri) "E' ancora presto per credere" (Volume 36 - Turn Back The Pendolum - Shinji) "Non penso che gli esseri umani siano belli ma penso che i fiori lo siano L'unico momento in cui l'essere umano somiglia ad un fiore è quando cade a terra colpito da una spada" (Volume 37 - Beauty Is So Solitary - Yumichika) "L'unica cosa di cui ho paura è diventare un guerriero che non conosce la paura" (Volume 38 - Fear For The Fight- Hisagi) "Errare è umano uccidere è diabolico" (Volume 39 - El Verdugo - Quimera Parca)

In my family, when we give someone our heart, we give them something precious to us to prove to them how much they mean to us. This is the most precious thing I own and you're the person who can claim ownership of my heart, so it's only right I give this to you. Tu sei il mio intero mondo, Elise.

Aprì gli occhi e raddrizzò la schiena. Denver restò seduto, immobile, al suo fianco, e i suoi bellissimi occhi blu come l’oceano furono annebbiati dal dolore e dal dubbio. Fu un duro colpo per il cuore di Judah vedere che Denver si aspettava il peggio. Non credeva che dalla sua bocca potessero uscire buone notizie per lui, per loro. Judah gli prese la mano e la baciò con dolcezza, puntando gli occhi sull’uomo che amava quando parlò. «Avanti,» disse. «Si assicuri di dire ai telespettatori quanto soffrissi per via della mia omosessualità prima di conoscere Denver. Sono orgoglioso di essere chi sono, con lui al mio fianco.» Non appena si erano conosciuti, Judah aveva pensato che Denver fosse bellissimo, ma ai suoi occhi non era mai apparso più stupendo come in quel momento. Con le lacrime agli occhi, Denver si aggrappò alla sua mano come se fosse un’àncora di salvezza e lo fissò come se fosse Dio in Terra. L’amore nel suo sguardo era così puro e profondo che lui restò senza fiato. «Ti amo,» disse Judah, non riuscendo a controllare le parole. «Ti amo da impazzire. Sei il mio tutto, e niente è più importante di te.» Ebbe un secondo per prepararsi prima che Denver si lanciasse su di lui. Lo afferrò, facendolo sedere sul suo grembo. Era chiaro che Denver fosse ancora incredulo. «Per te ne vale la pena, piccolo. Sei speciale. Mi dispiace che mi ci sia voluto tutto questo tempo per capirlo.» Denver non disse niente, e si limitò a fissarlo con gli occhi spalancati prima di abbassare la testa e arrendersi tra le braccia di Judah, che lo abbracciò con forza e gli baciò la testa. Poi lanciò un’occhiata al dirigente che non aveva un’aria molto felice. «Avete altro da aggiungere?» domandò Judah. Il silenzio calò nella stanza mentre i dirigenti si fissavano. «Ci aspettiamo una proposta concreta entro la fine della giornata,» disse Tim. «Vogliamo che il Network riconosca di avere piena responsabilità e che garantisca un posto ai live sia a Denver sia a Judah. Dopo, lasceremo che siano i telespettatori a decidere il loro destino nella gara, ma attenti, controlleremo le votazioni per assicurarci che vengano rispettate le scelte del pubblico.»

He paused for a moment. “Mi amor?” Our game.My lips twitched into a smile and I stayed silent. I set the condiment rack down on the kitchen table and closed the fridge door. “Amore mio?” he said in Italian. Still, I waited. I wanted one more. Maybe two. “Meine Geliebte?” German maybe? “Mon amour?” Ugh. That did it. The French always got me. Tyler had been a military brat. His parents were diplomats and had been stationed all over the world. He knew four languages by the time he was old enough to talk. Now he knew nine. He was an interpreter. He was also one of the most intelligent men I’d ever met. He specialized in simultaneous interpretation, a skill set all its own. He knew Arabic and Farsi too, which made him a particular asset in the Middle East. They’d lobbied hard to keep him in service. It said a lot about his feelings for me that he was willing to leave all that. I put my back to the fridge door and slid down to the floor, a grin on my face. “Yes?” “I know you’re nervous about me coming home. I can hear you cleaning.” He knew me too well.

Do you remember,” I said, slowly, “when we were little and Hitomi the kitchen maid told us the story of the red thread? How some people are born tied together by a long scarlet string that no one can see? The red thread is fate. People joined in this way would always be searching for each other, always moving towards each other, even if they never realized it until the moment they met. Remember she said that the red thread may stretch, or tangle, but never, ever break?”   A pained half-smile twitched at one corner of his mouth. “You stole the red silk from your mother’s embroidery box and tied our little fingers together.”   “Which only lasted until bath time, when Father very firmly cut us apart again.” I stroked his left little finger with mine. “I still believe in that thread, Shinobu. I know it’s there. I can feel it, even if I can’t see it. We were always meant to be together. But maybe … maybe we weren’t meant to be together forever.”   “Mio-dono…”   “Shin-chan.” I forced myself to smile into his anguished eyes through the welling tears. “If none of this had ever happened, if Izanagi and the Nekomata had never come to the village, if we had grown old together in my family’s home the way we dreamed, we would have chosen this, wouldn’t we? To be together as long as we could. And, when it was time, to die together. After all these years, we finally get our wish.”   He whispered, “You have already made up your mind, my love.”   “Haven’t you? Where you go…”   He raised my hands and pressed them to his heart, then kissed each palm. “I will follow, always.

What are you doing?” I demanded. “Why did you go running off like that? Are you an idiot?”   “Let go!” She struggled, apparently not worried about the curious looks we were getting. “Leave me alone!”   “What do you mean leave you alone?” I hissed, hanging onto her arm doggedly. “What if another Foul Woman turns up, like the one that got Jack?”   She winced. Before I could apologize for my trademark sensitivity, she recovered and poked her finger at my face. “It’s none of your business what I do! I don’t answer to you, Mio Yamato. I’m an adult, for God’s sake! I’m nearly twenty-one years old.”   “Then start acting like it! We’re on the same side here. We are trying to help you.”   “How?” Her voice hit a pitch so shrill that it echoed even in the middle of all the deadening sounds of the city. We got a slew of horrified stares. Rachel didn’t seem to notice. “How? You have no idea what happened to me! You have no idea what’s still happening to me…”   All the fight seemed to drain right out of her. Her tense shoulders sagged and, to my horror, big, fat tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.   Well, crap.   Jack and me … we didn’t do this. We didn’t cry in front of each other. We didn’t do that Reality TV Big Emotional Moment stuff. It wasn’t us. If this ha d been Rachel’s sister in front of me, I’d have known just how to handle it – let her turn away, let her get herself back together without trying to help. Jack would already have been sucking it up.   But this wasn’t Jack. And Rachel wasn’t sucking it up. She was just standing in front of me in the middle of a crowded London train station courtyard, with one arm wrapped around her middle like she was about to fall apart, crying silent, pathetic tears.   Shinobu’s face filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. He made an abortive move to touch Rachel, then stopped and stepped back, as if realizing contact from him probably wouldn’t be welcome. “Then you must tell us, Rachel-san,” he said gently. “Trust us with your fears. Trust that we will listen and understand.”   He gave me an urgent look and mimed a hugging movement.   Thanks. Thanks a bunch.   Feeling stiff and uncomfortable, I put my arms around Rachel and patted her on the back. “Shush. It’s all right now. It’s all right.”   To my surprise she flopped against me, burying her head in my shoulder as she cried. It was like … like she’d just been waiting for someone to lean on all along. For the first time it really dawned on me that Rachel and Jack were different. Yeah, they had something of the same attitude, a lot of the same mannerisms, even looked alike if you ignored Jack’s goth thing – but they weren’t the same person. I needed to start seeing Rachel for who she was, not just Jack’s Big Sister.   I hugged her a bit tighter, and patted her back with a bit more enthusiasm. “I’m not going to pretend that I understand exactly how you’re feeling, because … you’re you, and only you can know that. But I can sympathize. Maybe I can even help. Please tell me what’s going on.

Don’t even think about it, Mimi. You are not coming out with me if you have garlic breath.”   “But I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I could brush my teeth twice,” I offered.   “No. We don’t have time. You haven’t even finished your costume yet. We’re in and out, OK? Maybe Rachel’ll put some in the fridge for you.”   “You’re heartless.”   “Like that’s news to anyone. Stop whining.”   Rachel poked her head out of the kitchen, a baguette in her hand. She pointed it at Jack. Pointing is a Luci-family thing. Beatrice does it too, only she’s usually holding a sharp dental instrument, so it’s considerably scarier.   “Are you bullying Mio again?” Rachel demanded. The warm light from the kitchen made her pale brown skin glow, and her long, toffee-coloured hair – the same colour as Jack’s before she bleached it – gleam. Jack and Rachel’s grandmother was from Barbados, which means they both have an amazing all-year-round golden tan. Unlike me. According to the manga I read, if I lived in Japan, my naturally pale skin would be totally sexy. Shame it only counts as pasty in the UK.   “No,” Jack said.   “Yes.” I did my pitiful expression. “She won’t let me have any dinner.”   Behind trendy square glasses, Rachel narrowed her eyes at her sister. “If you’re thinking of developing an eating disorder, you’d better know right now that I will intervention your ass off, Jacqueline.” Rachel is a graduate psychology student. She likes to work that into the conversation as often as she can.   “Oh, save it,” Jack said, yawning for effect. “We’re just in a rush, that’s all. We’ve got a party to go to.

Come here; let me look at you.” Mum gestured imperiously, and after a moment’s hesitation, Shinobu bent down so that she could cup his face in her small, delicate fingers. She stared up at him, dark gaze piercing. He stayed still, but behind his back I saw his hands find each other and his fingers lace together, as if it was an effort not to fidget. I didn’t blame him.   “Rachel also says that you helped save her and did a lot of other heroic things. I think you must have a great deal of character to have survived everything that’s happened to you, Shinobu, and I’m very grateful for all that you’ve done for my family. But I’m fully aware that you’ve been hanging out in my house with my underage daughter completely unsupervised the whole time I’ve been gone. I will be keeping my eye on you from now on.”   Shinobu nodded respectfully, not moving out of my mother’s grasp. I couldn’t stand it.   “Mum! Shinobu’s been a − a perfect gentleman!”   “And I was there at least some of the time,” my father put in.   “There is no such thing as a perfect gentleman, Mio. And you don’t count, Takashi. You can never tell when Mio’s lying about anything.” She fixed her eyes back on Shinobu. “I’m not saying that I don't approve. But if you’re the sort of young man that I want for my daughter – and I think you are – you won’t have a problem with me looking out for her. When this mess is sorted out, we can get to know each other properly.”   Shinobu nodded again. Mum smiled at him and slid her hands down to pat his shoulders, and he smiled back, his expression a little dazed. Damn. Dazzled by Mum Power.   “‘This mess’ being … the imminent apocalypse?” my dad asked, apparently unable to leave well enough alone.   Mum ignored his tone magnificently. “Yes, that. Now, could anyone else murder a sandwich and a cup of tea? Because I’ve had a heck of a day.”   Jack and Hikaru, who’d retreated to the till area with Ebisu during the family drama, crept out. Jack raised her hand. “I’m starving.”   “Me too,” Hikaru said.   “Ah, the appetites of the young,” Ebisu said, smiling serenely as he limped towards my mother and offered her his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Yamato. You are almost exactly as I had imagined. Let’s go upstairs to my flat and see what we can find to eat, yes?”   “You might want to put me in charge of that,” my dad said, hurrying after them. “She’s a terrible cook.”   “Stuff it,” my mum retorted as Ebisu led her away. “I’m still not talking to you.”   And just like that, our motley crew had another member. My mum.   Sweet baby Jebus, how did this happen?

I understand the circumstances, and I chose you. Amore mio, you must believe that nothing can change my choice or how much I love you. There’s only one person who can keep me from you, and that’s you. Alvise

«È stato quel pensiero che mi ha aiutato. Un momento prima ero quasi paralizzato dalla paura al pensiero che potessi diventare violento con me, quello dopo ho capito che non mi avresti mai fatto del male. Non potevi. Mi ami troppo.» «Sì, sei il mio tutto, bubbeleh.» Denver sollevò lo sguardo non appena sentì quella parola sconosciuta palesemente in yiddish. «Come mi hai chiamato?» Judah gli sorrise con dolcezza. «Bubbeleh. Letteralmente significa piccola bambola, ma è l’equivalente yiddish per piccolo o tesoro. Ti si addice.» «Non hai mai parlato yiddish con me,» mormorò. «Sto cercando di mostrarti ogni aspetto di me, come avevamo stabilito. È una parte importante di ciò che sono.» «Ripetilo.» «Sei il mio bubbeleh, Denver. Ti amo.» Lui chiuse gli occhi, sfiorando di nuovo il viso contro Judah. Adorava essere stretto in quella maniera. Le sue braccia forti rappresentavano un luogo sicuro, dove era protetto e amato, e lontano dalla violenza e dalla paura

«Il televoto è aperto per Judah e Denver. Assicuratevi di votare per uno di loro o per entrambi, inviando un messaggio o usando Twitter. Scrivete Judah o Denver e inviatelo al numero in sovraimpressione, o tweettate per il vostro artista preferito con l’hashtag singjudah o singdenver,» spiegò con chiarezza Brock prima di rivolgersi a Judah. «Judah, Grunt ha detto che hai permesso a Denver di brillare questa sera. Sei anche disposto a farlo vincere?» Judah strinse la mano di Denver, che tremò nella sua. «Assolutamente. Spero che vinca, perché se lo merita.» «Stai dicendo che non ti dispiacerebbe perdere con lui?» Judah sorrise, tenendo lo sguardo fisso su Denver. «Ho già vinto. Non ho bisogno d’altro se avrò lui al mio fianco. Per sempre.»

«Hai visto il mio tatuaggio, giusto?» Sollevò una manica. «Rappresenta il tefillin, le cinghie di cuoio con un piccolo astuccio quadrato che gli uomini ebrei indossano attorno alle braccia o sulla fronte durante la preghiera mattutina. Contiene una piccola pergamena con le parole della Torah, la legge.» Denver sfiorò il tatuaggio con un dito, fermandosi sulla scritta. «Che cosa vuol dire?» «Ahava. La parola ebraica che indica amore. Per me, la Torah parla d’amore, ma non è così che la vedono i miei genitori o la loro religione. Comunque, provai a onorarli come potevo. Continuai a seguire i comandamenti, e misi da parte i miei desideri. Non guardavo gli uomini. Mi masturbavo solamente quando la pressione diventava insopportabile, ma mi costringevo a non pensare a niente mentre lo facevo. Credevo che, se non avessi ceduto all’attrazione che provavo per gli uomini, sarebbe scomparsa, e poi ho incontrato te.» Denver giocò con la sua mano, tenendo lo sguardo basso. «Lo rimpiangi?» Judah gli sollevò il mento con l’indice destro. «No. Mai. La mia vita era così buia prima di te. Mi hai ridato la luce e la felicità, Denver. Mi hai riportato in vita.»

«Dipende da come viene affrontata la lettura.» Iniziò. «Per quanto mi riguarda sono curioso di sapere fino a che punto si spingono le autrici nella descrizione delle scene erotiche, anche se devo dire che il momento che preferisco è quello in cui la seduzione fa da padrona. Il momento in cui l'uomo mette gli occhi sulla donna, come un predatore che ha adocchiato la preda...» Il suo sguardo percorse sfacciatamente tutto il mio corpo. «E non vede l'ora di mangiarsela.» L'atmosfera si stava riscaldando troppo, sentivo le guance andare in fiamme. «Preferisco leggere fantasy, mi estraniano dalla realtà di tutti i giorni» dissi cercando di spostare la discussione su argomenti meno "bollenti" ma lui sembrava non mollare. «Anche quei libri possono essere un'ottima distrazione sai?» Rispose sorridendo e proprio quel sorriso fu come un fulmine a ciel sereno, abbagliante. Poteva un sorriso essere così seducente? «Sono stato maleducato, non mi sono ancora presentato, il mio nome è Leonardo.» Continuò porgendomi la mano. «Io sono Dike.» Risposi sfiorando con le dita la sua mano avvertendo una scarica elettrica. «Dike...» Sussurrò lui: il solo sentir pronunciare il mio nome in quel modo mi fece venire i brividi.

Per te aspetterei per sempe, amore mio´", ´spero non ci vorra cosi tanto´ ("For you I would wait forever, my love," ´I hope it won't take that long´)