Motorcycle Clubs Quotes

Real men are the ones who go to sleep next to you at night, wake up next to you in the morning and hold you in their hearts all the hours in between.

(...)The ride is not over but if I can keep my Club together and find a sweet, feisty woman who's got my back and enough to her that she'll stay there, holding me up not dragging me down, I figure I'd find my way to beauty eventually. And I'd find absolution because I'd know, I earned the love of that woman, a woman who's got so much to her it'll take years to dig down and find the heart of her, that would be my reward." Ohmigod. Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Did he just say that? Did. He. Just. Say that? "And you told me," Tack continued, his face coming closer, "I had that when I first met you.

Does anyone ever get tired of being brave, Prosper?” I put my tiny hand in his. He squeezed it gently and said,” Sure they do little darlin’, people get tired of being brave all the time.” “What happens then, Prosper?” I was looking at him now, the weight of the world on my shoulders. I heard something catch in the back of his throat and he had to clear it before he went on. “Why they call on someone who has some brave left over, that’s what they do honey.” “Prosper?” “Yes Raine?” “Do you have any brave left over?” “Little darlin’, just so happens I been saving up a bunch of brave just for you.

Mattie rolled his eyes. "And I've have my fair share of ugly in my life, so I'm kind of used to it". "You better not be referring to me, sack-sucker".

You have fire, you have soul. Your strength and resilience amaze me. Your gentleness and kindness humble me. Your beauty takes my breath away. If I could have only one thing in this life, it would be you.

I should have a gun.” “And you think I can provide it?” “Ask your biker gang buddies.” “They prefer the term ‘motorcycle club.’” “I’m sure they do.

Baby you're reading the situation completely wrong. I know you don't need saving. I do. I need you to save me.

There it was, that note that told him in a minute the balance of power would shift from him to her, although, truthfully, she always had it. She just didnt know it.

Feeling the relief of him taking her worries, knowing that he would stew on them, mix them all around and give them back in a way that made her feel better. In a way that would make everything better.

Your drug of choice is the wrong men.

It was dangerous to go back, at least for him, to even think of those days when he was too young and had no way to save the dying. He could only whisper to them, tell them not to be afraid, and that someday, he would avenge them.

Marla said, "This isn't like when guys sit backward on the toilet and pretend it's a motorcycle. This is a genuine accident.

Nooooooooooo!" Screaming the word, Amy and Dan moved as one. Time slowed down, which, Dan knew from experience, often happened when you were in midair. By the time they leaped onto the hood of Fiske's car (oops, dents), and Dan had ripped off a windshield wiper to use as a weapon (probably not the best idea, but hey, he was improvising), Scarey Harley Dude had turned around. He strode off in his motorcycle boots, moving swiftly to his bike without seeming to hurry. His helmet back on, sunglasses adjusted, he roared off straight into the road, weaving through the thick traffic like smoke. Amy's face was squashed against the windshield. Dan held the wiper aloft like a club. And Evan Tolliver stood on the sidewalk, blinking at them. Dan waved the windshield wiper at him. "Hey, bro. We didn't want to miss our ride.

When life gives you lemons, you flip off the world, make a pitcher of margaritas, and burn your bra.

Steele knew Breezy wasn't going to be won over easily, but as far as he was concerned, there was no other choice. He 'had' to win her over for his own self-preservation.

She laughed easily, that was one of the things he remembered most. Her laughter. The sound of it. The way she turned everything bad into something good.

So, werewolves drive motorcycles because its too hard to hang your head out of the window of a car while you're driving?

You look hot yourself, biker-man. So hot, I'm wet already.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Shit, Dee. I want my fingers in you so much right now, just so I can taste you again.

Control is an illusion, Steele. I learned that a long time ago. It doesn't matter who appears to have it. We really only can control ourselves. We have choices. You were my choice.

Yeah, yeah. I'm all roses and chocolates and vibrators about you too, hun." "Fuckin

A word of advice about Ricky ..." Gabriel said as he swung his car from the end of the drive. "Is it going to cost me?" I waved off his answer. "Whatever you're going to say, save your breath." "I overheard him offering you a ride on his motorcycle. I don't believe you understand what that entails." "Grass, gas, or ass. No one rides for free." I looked over at him. "I've seen the T-shirt." "I don't think you're taking this seriously, Olivia. Do you know what a one-percenter is?" I sighed. "Yes, Gabriel. It refers to the portion of bikers who belong to a professional motorcycle club. A gang. Ricky is one. As such, I'm going to guess that the only women who get to ride his bike are also riding him. Am I right?" His mouth tightened as if he didn't appreciate the crass phrasing. "I'm afraid you're under some illusions about Ricky because he does not fit the stereotype." "Oh, I'm not fooled. He may appear to be the heir to a criminal empire, but he's really an undercover cop, working tirelessly to overthrow his father's evil empire and restore justice and goodness to the land." I glanced over. "Am I close?" Not even a hint of a smile.

DDT stood for Dangerous Darrell Thomas. Thomas had given himself the name when he was riding with a motorcycle club and was interviewed for a public radio magazine. The magazine writer got it wrong, though, and referred to him as TDT--Terrible Darrell Thompson--which lost something of its intent when expressed as initials; and since the writer got the last name wrong, too, Thomas never again trusted the media.

His mouth came down on hers and then he was just possessing her. Taking her over. Leaving her with nothing of herself because she burned up in the fire he generated.

It won't work that way. You know me, Bree. You 'know' me. I might have misled things at the club. But I gave you the real man. I don't back away from a fight and I win.

The falling-apart shit is going to have to wait.

She could communicate love with just one caress of her fingers. This touch was natural to her and had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with love.

He'd been angry. He'd been afraid for her. He'd been shocked that just by being with her, he'd become everything he most despised in the world-- a predator.

He knew as much as he was deliberately seducing her, she was doing the same for him, although innocently. She wasn't in the least trying and his body was already hers and always would be.

So bring on your clubs and parties, your acrobats and magicians, your daredevils, jet cars, motorcycle helicopters, your sex and heroin, more of everything to do with automatic reflex. If the drama is bad, if the film says nothing, if the play is hollow, sting me with the theremin, loudly. I'll think I'm responding to the play, when it's only a tactile reaction to vibration. But I don't care. I just like solid entertainment.

He stayed right where he was, planted against the door, afraid to move. He'd walked into a room filled with enemies, never flinching, and would do it over and over, but this woman held the power to ruin him.

I started my career in journalism and researched outlaw motorcycle club culture extensively for my stories. This included talking to people in club life, many of whom answered questions for me throughout the writing process. The Reaper’s Legacy manuscript was reviewed and corrected by a woman attached to an outlaw MC.

Steele could be so completely still, it felt like he could disappear. His energy would get so low that you could forget he was in your space. He never missed anything when he was like that. He took in the smallest detail.

Steele had found that once one had a glimpse of what life could be like when it was good, he couldn't go back to dark, ugly days and nights. He existed before Breezy. [...] He hadn't been alive. Breezy had changed all that.

She was nothing. She'd thought he was her world, and all the while, he'd been plotting to take down her family's club. She'd loved him. He'd used her and then thrown her away, shattering every dream, every hope she'd ever had.

And if this is anyone’s fault,” she continued. “It’s mine for bringing an innocent little girl around a criminal motorcycle club full of self-important assholes who think with their dicks and their guns instead of their brains!

You should worry less, smile more....And fall in love

............ Dead and gone before he reached his thirtieth birthday, but still leaving behind more than Crow could ever hope to have.

She lay there wondering if someday, someone would explain what she'd done to deserve more than her fair share of bad things in life.

We’re all broken in some way. If you’re lucky, you might find someone whose broken pieces fit with yours.

She knew every scar, every tattoo. She had traced every one of those scars and tattoos with her tongue. With her fingertips. She'd memorized them until they were etched so deeply in her brain, she could have drawn them and gotten every detail perfect.

We can only choose to go forward. We can’t change what’s behind us. What was done to us by others, by our parents, by anyone. Even what we did. It is done. We have to live with it. Our responsibility is to move forward and do the best we can, be the best we can.” Mama Anat

He'd been the one to end things, and it had been ugly. Really ugly. Deliberately ugly. He'd said things to drive her away--and she'd gone. She'd managed to take pieces of him with her. She'd stolen those pieces from him, and he'd known when she'd left, he wasn't going to get them back.

Now don't go getting excited that I'll suddenly notice Hutch in the soft pink light of the sunset and fall in love. He's not the love of my life, and no, we haven't been destined to get together ever since those gummy bears back in fourth grade, just because that's what happens in moves. And don't go thinking he and I become best friends in a Breakfast Club sort of way, either, with me realizing he's got a heart of gold under the Iron Maiden motorcycle jacket, and him realizing that I'm not the slut everyone thinks I am. Yes, that happens onscreen. But forget it. This is real life. He creeps me out. We have nothing in common besides leprosy.

Why Do People become Shadowhunters, by Magnus Bane This Codex thing is very silly. Downworlders talk about the Codex like it is some great secret full of esoteric knowledge, but really itès a Boy Scout manual. One thing that it mysteriously doesnèt address is why people become Shadowhunters. And you should know that people become Shadowhunters for many stupid reasons. So here is an addition to your copy. Greetings, aspiring young Shadowhunter-to-be- or possibly already technically a Shadowhunter. I canèt remember whether you drink from the Cup first or get the book first. Regardless, you have just been recruited by the Monster Police. You may be wondering, why? Why of all the mundanes out there was I selected and invited to this exclusive club made up largely, at least from a historical perspective, of murderous psychopaths? Possible Reasons Why 1. You possess a stout heart, strong will, and able body. 2. You possess a stout body, able will, and strong heart. 3. Local Shadowhunters are ironically punishing you by making you join them. 4. You were recruited by a local institute to join the Nephilim as an ironic punishment for your mistreatment of Downworlders. 5. Your home , village, or nation is under siege by demons. 6. You home, village, or nation is under siege by rogue Downworlders. 7. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. 8.You know too much, and should be recruited because the secrecy of the Shadow World has already been compromised for you. 9. You know too little; it would be helpful to the Shadowhunters if you knew more. 10. You know exactly the right amount, making you a natural recruit. 11. You possess a natural resistance to glamour magic and must be recruited to keep you quiet and provide you with some basic protection. 12. You have a compound last name already and have convinced someone important that yours is a Shadowhunter family and the Shadowhunteriness has just been weakened by generations of bad breeding. 13. You had a torrid affair with a member of the Nephilim council and now he's trying to cover his tracks. 14. Shadowhunters are concerned they are no longer haughty and condescending enough-have sought you out to add a much needed boost of haughty condescension. 15. You have been bitten by a radioactive Shadowhunter, giving you the proportional strength and speed of a Shadowhunter. 16. Large bearded man on flying motorcycle appeared to take you away to Shadowhunting school. 17. Your mom has been in hiding from your evil dad, and you found out you're a Shadowhunter only a few weeks ago. That's right. Seventeen reasons. Because that's how many I came up with. Now run off, little Shadowhunter, and learn how to murder things. And be nice to Downworlders.

Why are you here?” she asked weakly. “You know why.” “No, I don’t,” she replied. “I think you do,” he murmured. “I don’t.” “Melissa, we’re not going to pretend it didn’t happen.” Crow nuzzled her neck. “What didn’t happen?” Melissa moaned. “Need a reminder?” he whispered into her ear. Melissa’s knees buckled as her mind waged war with her senses. Every nerve ending in her body craved his touch, while her instincts screamed at her to run for her life. And there she stood wedged between the wall and Crow—between logic and lust. Caught in a spider’s web of need and confusion and heat. “I think we better stop,” she breathed out. “Baby, I’m not stopping. But I promise to go real slow.

Every single minute of the day I want to kiss you. The fact that I’ve been able to mostly hold myself back is a miracle. You have no idea how hard I’ve had to work to resist you. And yeah, I’ve been making up excuses, but it’s not because I’m scared to be with you. It’s because I’m scared to fall for you and then lose you.

Raine’s been through some shit.” Prosper was looking at Diego. “Shit that happened in what they call the formative years. Shit that happens when you’re that young, sets a course for the rest of it.” Prosper was looking right into Diego’s eyes. “Shit that she keeps buried deep. So deep she has to wrap her arms around herself to keep it in. Because if she don’t, she’s afraid that on the way out, it will tear her up so bad inside that it will kill her. Stuff she keeps down. Stuff she thinks no one knows or can see or can touch but her.

So ride on, my brothers, and rest in peace. Wherever you are, may you always have the sun on your back, your fists in the wind, and the road stretching out before you

Either you get this studly, naked body to walk with, or I can shift to wolf. You decide.

Then that fuckin' nose twitched again. And I sank back into my woman... a pair of wolf eyes bringing me home.

knowledge elevates you, no matter who you are.

She did something to his insides, twisted and melted them until he sometimes felt he couldn't think straight.

Trust doesn’t feel like leaping. It’s like sinking back, knowing in your soul that what’s beneath you is solid.

Riding on the streets of loneliness I drift on roads that take me on unknown paths I have become the wanderer again in search of an ineffable nothingness...

He needed to know she wanted to be with him. He needed to know someone loved him. He didn't believe himself worthy of love, so he had a difficult time believing she really wanted to be with him.

Cam offered her a relationship that gave her strength, confidence, and stability, and brought an order to her life on what she could expect. That was something she'd never had before and craved.

but you can’t spend the rest of your life worrying that someone is going to get mad if you express yourself. If they love you, they’ll understand that you have emotion, same as the rest of the world.

She drove like fucking Danica Patrick. Jesus. He'd actually been nervous, speeding over winding mountain roads, weaving around slower traffic--which was everyone. He'd been damn glad to see the hotel.

We’re not together anymore. Don’t forget it. There is a pause before he responds. Hard to forget that. The gaping hole in my chest that was left when u ripped my heart out kind of reminds me every time I breathe.

She had a way of giving him comfort when nothing else could. The wailing of the dead. The accusations of their eyes because he couldn't save them. She drove those dead children away from him and brought him peace.

She knew, more than any other reason, it was the way Steele touched her, the way his hands moved over her and the look on his face when he stared down into her eyes that kept her tied to him. He couldn't hide that.

Some of his bitches had left him with the clap, some with ramped up credit card debt, and some with a feeling of damn relief. But not Glory. No. Glory had left him with remorse. And regret. And something that felt like pain in the area of his heart. And now she was coming back to where it all started. Back to Crownsmount. Back to the lake house. But not back to him. Not back to him. And he had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

Ten minutes later, I came back out to find Clay propped against my headboard reading one of my motorcycle club romances. “Am I going to have to put these under lock and key?” I plucked the book from his hands, holding it out of reach as he protested. “With dirty scenes like that? Yeah. Probably.” He waggled his brows. “I saw you put a highlighter tab on the soft choking part…” My neck burned hotter than it had in my whole life as my eyes nearly popped out of my skull. Without thinking better of it, I reared that book in my hand back and promptly threw it at Clay, who dodged it only by a hair. “Hey, no shame!” He laughed. “Just info I want to tuck away for later,” he added, tapping his temple.

You do that, and you'll be wishing for death before her body even hits the ground. The Gatekeeper is coming. Executioner for the Feral Breed, brother to the Beast, and mated to the woman you hold against her will. You've fucked up, friend.

That power is yours. I want you to find a way to hold on to the strength that's inside of you, to accept what I'm giving you. Don't you think every abused child, every spouse whose lost their loved one at the hands of someone else wishes they could kill the person that ruined their whole life? You had no one, and you fucking survived on your own. You're not alone anymore.

Breezy laughed and the sound went through him the way it often did, lighting his world. She sounded bright and happy and she shed that light on him. She took him right out of the violence, the blood and death and vile world he lived in to draw into the sunshine with her.

This is the end of it you know.” He whispered to her as his green eyes melted into hers. “The end of what?” Her voice trembled. She felt the weight of him on the mattress as he laid down next to her, pulled her close to him and whispered into her ear. “Life as we knew it.

When you love someone it feels like their blood runs through your veins, their breath fills your lungs, their heart makes yours beat, and without them everything stops.” “Fuck. That sounds tragic.” Tell me about it. “It is.” I bend to kiss him again, this time on the forehead. “But it’s worth it.

Bucket had started his criminal career in Braas, not far from when Allan and his new friends now found themselves. There he had gotten together with some like-minded peers and started the motorcycle club called The Violence. Bucket was the leader; he decided which newsstand was to be robbed of cigarettes next. He was the one who has chosen the name- The Violence, in English, not swedish. And he was the one who unfortunately asked his girlfriend Isabella to sew the name of the motorcycle club onto ten newly stolen leather jackets. Isabella had never really learned to spell properly at school, not in Swedish, and certainly not in English. The result was that Isabella sewed The Violins on the jackets instead. As the rest of the club members had had similar academic success, nobody in the group noticed the mistake. So everyone was very surprised when one day a letter arrived for The Violins in Braas from the people in charge of the concert hall in Vaxjo. The letter suggested that, since the club obviously concerned itself with classical music, they might like to put in am appearance at a concert with the city’s prestigious chamber orchestra, Musica Viate. Bucket felt provoked; somebody was clearly making fun of him. One night he skipped the newsstand, and instead went into Vaxjo to throw a brick through the glass door of the concert hall. This was intended to teach the people responsible lesson in respect. It all went well, except that Bucket’s leather glove happened to follow the stone into the lobby. Since the alarm went off immediately, Bucket felt it would be unwise to try to retrieve the personal item in question. Losing the glove was not good. Bucket had traveled to Vaxjo by motorbike and one hand was extremely cold all the way home to Braas that night. Even worse was the fact that Bucket’s luckless girlfriend had written Bucket’s name and adress inside the glove, in case he lost it." For more quotes from the novel visit my blog: frommybooks.wordpress.com

Love for her welled up so strong, so intense, the pressure in his chest made him feel as if he might be having a heart attack.

An idea popped into my head. “Excuse me a second,” I said to the guy who’d just tried to pay me fifty bucks to sleep with him. “My boyfriend just got here.

The den of the Devil is no place for the innocent.

willing to sit back

And how did I look to you?” Raw. Dark. Dangerous.  But that wasn’t

Fuck, it hurts to see you in pain.  I just want to take it all away.

I play keyboard for the internet.

I knew as soon as I stepped out of my bedroom with a stiff dick and a hard yet sweet beat in my chest that I was gonna prepare myself to be everything I needed to be for her.

Happy birthday to me; happy birthday, and Christmas, and all the other holidays, to me. “No,

I’m sorry” is always a good start to finding your way back to something that you thought might have been lost forever.

You have to take risks, because if you don’t, then you’ll wake up at the end of your life full of regrets, and a head full of dreams never lived, and that’s a lot worse than dying.

To remind you that sometimes life is shit, but shit is just manure, and beautiful things can grow in manure.

When you need a rock, I can be that for you. You won't believe me until something happens and you're forced to lean on me.

You get one life. One life to be free, to choose how you live. You

Ask any of my brothers, nothing stops me. No one stops me. I got the name Steele because I'm unbending.

It was the worst nightmare possible for a boy like Steele. He felt responsiblity, even when he was just very little. Something in him needed to help all of us.

They keep me from going off the deep end. Not like you do, but I have to be with them. I AM Torpedo Ink. If you love me, you love the club. It's really that simple.

One time, when I was in the common room with Billy, Stoke and Dodge, Blue came in and told me to get up and go to my room. I knew for a fact I was not wearing any see-through clothes. So I told him to get stuffed; he had no right to tell me what to do. His biker brothers laughed, and that was when I found myself over his shoulder and heard his brothers hoot and laugh.

I want you in my bed. My bed at my house. I wanna walk to the kitchen naked. I wanna shower with you and take you against the wall. I don’t need my brothers hearing me screaming your name.

You're okay," he whispered, caressing the soft curls springing out across the pillow. "Someday, you're going to wrap around me and ask me to protect you, instead of thinking that damn blanket is going to save you." A shudder ran through her body and quickly calmed. He inhaled swiftly and closed his eyes. She'd settled with his touch. Taking her was the right thing to do for both of them.

He walked up, wound an arm around my waist and brought me flush against him. With his other hand, he cupped my jaw and tilted my head up to meet his amused gaze. “You down with this?” “With what?

I bit my lip and nodded as tears filled my eyes. “You saved me, Zara. I would have been lost without you. But you saved me, and I’m so happy you let me be here for this miracle. I love you too, bitch.

I would charge he'll with a bucket of water to get you back. I'd fuckin' search hell for you, Breezy. Dont ever think you can exchange your life for mine, because it isn't going to happen. I wouldn't let it happen.

He stood, got Swan from her chair and placed her on her feet. She padded her small feet around the table to me, and before I knew what she was going to do, she wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged me tightly. My

He shook his head, wondering what a woman raised with kindness, a tree fort, and love still had to wish for. Chores never ended, motorcycles broke down, and freedom hovered on the edge, waiting for someone to rip it away.

They'd always kept eyes on one another. Always. It was Czar's rule. Their rule. Their code. Their promise to one another. It was how they survived. But he hadn't. He'd taken his eyes off Demyan and he'd died in the worst possible way.

HAPPINESS   There is balm for the wounded, and there is bread for the hungry.  There is water for the thirsty, and there is hope for the despairing.  There is light for those in darkness...   ~ The Gospel of Buddha, Carus' translation

He had been through hell and survived, and his reward had come in the form of a woman who could bend but not break, challenge but not conform, submit but not surrender. Naiya was his. Totally, utterly, and irrevocably. And he would never let her go.

In some ways, she envied prisoner #18794 and his ability not to carry guilt around with him and to act on his instincts. Guilt weighed her down on a daily basis. Fear immobilized her and she constantly struggled to find the strength to continue living a life on her own.

Until you came along, I didn’t think much about having kids. Why have kids if you don’t have the love of a good woman to raise them alongside you? “I don’t know, darlin’. One day we’ll be old. One of us will go first. Whoever is left behind…well, I like the idea of having the comfort of family when that time comes. A family you and I made together. A part of me, a part of you, will always be left in the world, even when we’re gone. And if we have more than one kid, they’ll be there for each other when we’re both gone.

That movie you made me watch, first time at your house. Love and redemption. You said, ‘The most beautiful stories ever told are the most difficult to take.’You said that, Red. Right out. And I knew if you got that, when it was later and I shared my shit with you, you’d get me. I never thought my story was beautiful. I thought it was shit. But you said that and when you did, I saw it. The ride is not over but if I can keep my Club together and find a sweet, feisty woman who’s got my back and enough to her that she’ll stay there, holding me up not dragging me down, I figure I’d find my way to beauty eventually. And I’d find absolution because I’d know, I earned the love of that woman, a woman who’s got so much to her it’ll take years to dig down and find the heart of her, that would be my reward.”Ohmigod. Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Did he just say that? Did. He. Just. Say that? “And you told me,”Tack continued, his face coming closer, “I had that when I first met you.”“I—”“So I was hooked to that shit, I did it, I participated in it, I was loyal to my brothers as I’d vowed I’d be and I pulled me and my Club out of it. I did that but that didn’t erase what we did. You are my absolution.