Oaths And Omissions Quotes

The problem with her is that I’ve known all along she would be trouble. I just fear I’ve miscalculated what kind she’d be.

Perfect, love. You feel bloody perfect.

I don’t know how to tell her that she feels like fucking heaven, sending waves of euphoria spiraling through my chest. At the same time, she’s hell, too; wicked, delicious sin crafted especially for my taste buds and served on a silver fucking platter.

I’ll do it.” He skims the cuff of my jean shorts, slipping beneath the denim. “What?” I breathe, my focus splitting between his caress and his words. “Drop to my knees

I thought you were hungry,” I whisper, too afraid to speak any louder and let my nerves show. “Oh, I am.” Turning his head, he skims his lips over the inside of my leg, his trim beard tickling my skin. “Ravenous, in fact. And it’s your wet cunt on the menu.

What were you expecting, love? For me to fall at your feet and worship you?

Damage inflicted is not so easily erased, no matter the amount of time between the initial hurt and eventual recovery.

Passions and work don’t have to equate. That’s not why I do this.

My ears heat, irritation simmering in my bloodstream. I’ve been on edge ever since Elena showed up at the beach house and questioned the sanctity of my relationship with Lenny.

Dr. Kal Anderson’s

It’s difficult to reconcile someone’s lessons when they’ve never had to learn any the hard way.

Why is he so fucking calm all the time? Everything he does and says, every reaction he has is met with a particular precision, and while logically I make out that it’s probably a very useful skill for his job, the side of my brain driven by anxiety and chaos hates it. For once, I want to see him lose control.

a quote by David Schippers, a Democrat and the chief investigative counsel for the House Judiciary Committee. Said Schippers for the ages: “The president, then, has lied under oath in a civil deposition, lied under oath in a criminal grand jury. He lied to the people. He lied to his Cabinet. He lied to his top aides. And now he’s lied under oath to the Congress of the United States. There’s no one left to lie to.

Homer's Hymn to Venus Published by Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862; dated 1818. Verses 1-55, with some omissions. Muse, sing the deeds of golden Aphrodite, Who wakens with her smile the lulled delight Of sweet desire, taming the eternal kings Of Heaven, and men, and all the living things That fleet along the air, or whom the sea, Or earth, with her maternal ministry, Nourish innumerable, thy delight All seek ... O crowned Aphrodite! Three spirits canst thou not deceive or quell:— Minerva, child of Jove, who loves too well Fierce war and mingling combat, and the fame Of glorious deeds, to heed thy gentle flame. Diana ... golden-shafted queen, Is tamed not by thy smiles; the shadows green Of the wild woods, the bow, the... And piercing cries amid the swift pursuit Of beasts among waste mountains,—such delight Is hers, and men who know and do the right. Nor Saturn's first-born daughter, Vesta chaste, Whom Neptune and Apollo wooed the last, Such was the will of aegis-bearing Jove; But sternly she refused the ills of Love, And by her mighty Father's head she swore An oath not unperformed, that evermore A virgin she would live mid deities Divine: her father, for such gentle ties Renounced, gave glorious gifts—thus in his hall She sits and feeds luxuriously. O'er all In every fane, her honours first arise From men—the eldest of Divinities. These spirits she persuades not, nor deceives, But none beside escape, so well she weaves Her unseen toils; nor mortal men, nor gods Who live secure in their unseen abodes. She won the soul of him whose fierce delight Is thunder—first in glory and in might. And, as she willed, his mighty mind deceiving, With mortal limbs his deathless limbs inweaving, Concealed him from his spouse and sister fair, Whom to wise Saturn ancient Rhea bare. but in return, In Venus Jove did soft desire awaken, That by her own enchantments overtaken, She might, no more from human union free, Burn for a nursling of mortality. For once amid the assembled Deities, The laughter-loving Venus from her eyes Shot forth the light of a soft starlight smile, And boasting said, that she, secure the while, Could bring at Will to the assembled Gods The mortal tenants of earth's dark abodes, And mortal offspring from a deathless stem She could produce in scorn and spite of them. Therefore he poured desire into her breast Of young Anchises, Feeding his herds among the mossy fountains Of the wide Ida's many-folded mountains,— Whom Venus saw, and loved, and the love clung Like wasting fire her senses wild among.

I wasn’t putting her on when I said I don’t date. My adult life leaves very little room for such adventure, and I find most people so dreadfully bland that the idea of keeping their company makes me want to blow my brains out.

Range Rover.

Aplana.

Before, I was only contemplating jumping off the cliff. Now, I’ve launched myself off the edge, and am free-falling out of control.

I don’t understand why,” he says. “You’re good, you know. Galleries and dealers are probably dying to buy an original Swan Primrose.” Chucking one of the pillows at his head, I roll my eyes. “I don’t paint to sell, though. My artistic vision doesn’t include profiting off my stuff. It’s just…” “A release,” he finishes, sticking the cushion under his arm. “I get it.

Since we met up that day in Boston a few weeks ago, we’ve had a dozen lunch dates; despite my initial apprehension regarding making friends, as that skill wasn’t one I grew up utilizing much, Elena and I sort of hit it off immediately. She’s warm and inviting, but there’s also this alluring darkness to her. An edge I’ve not seen in many people, especially any my age, that I find somehow comforting. Like I can embrace the broken, ugly parts of me in her presence, and all she’ll do is show me hers in return.

This isn’t a normal response to trauma—or maybe it is. Maybe your response has more to do with the circumstances themselves and your personal reaction to them, rather than the rightness of the situation.

When I was little, Mama really doubled down on that whole “if life gives you lemons, make lemonade” shtick. She’d say that not all lemons are created equal, and that it was up to my brothers and I to find the good parts of the bad lemons and make use of them.

Once you get a taste of power, of bloodshed in the name of power, you don’t ever look back.

I can spot a clubgoer a mile away, and you have wallflower written all over you.” “Could I record you saying that? Because the general public has a completely different opinion.

Perhaps we don’t know each other’s favorite songs and worst nightmares, but you can be soul mates and still not be aware of those things. Some connections are physical, love. Tangible. You know them when you feel them.

Men like us don’t lie less; we just get better at it.

I’ve never been big on apologies. Don’t like giving them, and I’m not a fan of receiving them either. Especially considering that more often than not, they’re just words. And words have no correlative meaning unless you assign them one.

My priority is justice, and a prison sentence is more than these people deserve.

Guilt boils in my chest along with every unspoken apology I owe him. My heart wants to say the words, to beg his forgiveness, but my brain is too damn stubborn. Being wrong is embarrassing. It’s difficult. That’s why so many people double down on their mistakes instead of owning up to them; digging a hole in loose soil is much simpler than climbing out and filling it. Growing

You’re psychotic. I’d rather drink bleach than date you again.

Seems a bit counterproductive to be praying now, love. Don’t you think?

One thing’s for certain: if no one else, Jonas is watching. Paying attention. For some reason, I find that as exhilarating as it is terrifying.

She tastes like absolution, but I’ll bet she fucks like damnation.

And right then, I know. I’m fucked.

But it’s his eyes I focus on. Deep violet one step and impossible, angry blue the next. For some reason, I recognize them. Recognize the accent. And I know I’m in trouble.

Our living room may be filled with art, but you’re the most bloody beautiful creation I’ve ever laid eyes on. The museums and galleries should be envious.

That unconditional kind of love that you’d risk your life on a battlefield for.

It was almost as if someone had told him I wouldn’t, and I’ve always wondered who. I think deep down, though, I’ve always known.

The face that launched a thousand ships.

Devastatingly alluring and completely terrifying, Lenny Primrose (soon to be Wolfe) could easily start another war in her lifetime. And I would be at the helm of the very first ship, leading the charge into battle. Simply because she’s mine.

Now, he’s in an all-black slim-fitting suit with a deep red tie, his dark curls tamed with some sort of product.

I’m a Cancer,” I say finally, propping my knee up so it’s in the seat with me. Jonas frowns. “That’s no way to talk about yourself, love.

It’s not uncommon for him to be fine one second and utterly unhinged the next, nor is it uncommon for him to take the switch out on the people around him.

I’m surprised to see you here, though. Without a pair of handcuffs, that is.” “I can assure you my bedroom habits have nothing to do with what parties I attend.

He doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t offer more. Besides, he’ll find out where I ventured off to when they find Richard Stiles’s body hanging from the rafters in the Primrose’s five-car garage in the morning.

The Flaming Chariot catered to many sleazy operatives over the years, and the general public steered clear of it.

You could,” she concedes, even as she puts more distance between us. Reaching the door to the stairwell, she grips the knob in one hand and twists, pushing it open. “But that’s not why you came here tonight, is it?

And he didn’t even wince. Just stumbled upon us and accepted the situation as it was, albeit tauntingly.

Who literally just threatened to take me out of this planet’s rotation, and stepped on my hand when he realized I intended to stab him the same as I did my attacker.

Come on, Wolfe. Men like us don’t abandon our plights for just anyone. She must be special.

Let me guess,” he says, bracing his elbows on the table. “Brunette, killer figure. Young. Draws the attention of the room without even trying?” My eyes narrow, and I balance my cigar on its ashtray. “How in the bloody hell can you possibly know that?” His grin widens, threatening to show teeth. “Because I think she just walked in.

Collected wrath like lucky pennies and used it as fuel for as long as I can remember.

ցաւդ տանեմ. Tsavt tanem.” Let me take your pain. I’ve been trying to do it without her even knowing.

Do you think people don’t take notice when the light in their lives goes out?” He gives me a sad smile, and it doesn’t meet his dark eyes. “For those of us living in the dark, it’s obvious.

Our long-term goals?” I shake my head. “You asked me to date her, Alistair.” “I didn’t ask you to care for her.” “Well, that’s too bloody bad, isn’t it?” His glacier-blue eyes widen at my words, mirroring the size of mine.

You’re bound to hurt her, you know. That’s the Wolfe curse.

My chest burns, like some omnipotent being has reached in, stolen the air directly from my lungs, and then set them on fire. I can scarcely catch my breath, my gaze boring into the wide, teardrop-shaped eyes I haven’t seen in over twenty years. “Mum?

You’re fucking crazy,” he spits, a tear gliding down to mix with his blood. “And you’d do well to remember it.

I leave him there with the knowledge that I could’ve done more, but chose to have mercy. This time.

Within a half hour, he’s dead. Sighing, Alistair walks to the sofa and grabs his suit jacket. I take the tincture from my pocket and hold it up, shrugging. “Saxitoxin.” “Naturally.

Because you think I’m weird?” “Because I think you’re terrifying. I just can’t figure out why.

The idea of dragging her out and about sounds as appealing right now as a frontal lobe lobotomy,

Lots of people die from head trauma.” “Your father didn’t.

I wasn’t… I’m not like that, the girl you met at that party. I’ve never killed anyone before in my life.” “Well, we all start somewhere, love.

Does a man who’s done far more for far less even deserve one?

Preston Covington won’t live long enough to be alone with her ever again.

Unfortunately, I’m not a fan of your answer. Do make sure to plead your case again, though. God might be more lenient on your poor, wretched soul.” Pop.

Pain isn’t the only thing I’ve ever known, it’s just all I can remember.

I want to eat it. I want to spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner drenching my chin between your thighs, doing my best to get my fill of you.

Threat or promise?” And for the first time since I met him, Jonas Wolfe smiles.

Though if this is your idea of worship, I’ll be yours. You can pray to me anytime

Like she could save me or condemn me, and the entire fate of my soul rests in her hands.

Because slaying your real life demons is often frowned upon.

Oaths and Omissions is a dark, contemporary romance inspired by the Helen of Troy and Trojan War myths.

Twelve Years Ago Mama makes the best vegetable lasagna on Aplana Island.

But when I stand and set the lasagna on the floor, rounding the corner of the island, I’m met by a head of dark, graying hair as Daddy lies on the ground. Bleeding from a hole in the head.

Clean hits mean clear consciences, and I’m not a man who wants even a modicum of guilt weighing down his shoulders.

Then again, my father’s lack of creativity in this line of work is likely what got him killed in the first place. If he’d stuck to his hidden talents and not tried to expand into territory managed by Primrose Realty, perhaps he’d still be alive.

Well, now’s your chance. Tell me what you’ve done, and maybe God will have mercy on your soul.

I finish, one flick of my wrist shoving the iron into his mouth. He has no teeth left to block the entry, so the end reaches the back of his throat on the first try. He jerks some as I hold him in place, but the struggle dies off quickly as his energy evaporates. When he goes limp, I punch my arm forward more forcefully, until the end of the iron pops out the back of his neck at an awkward angle.