Oliver Queen Quotes

He watched Attolia out of the corner of his eye. She was still cool, like a breath of winter in the warm evening air, but in the last few days he had begun to sense a subtle humor in her chilly words. When Gen had complained earlier that evening that Petrus, the palace physician, should stop fussing over him like a worried old woman, Attolia had asked, archly,"And me as well?" "When you stop fussing," Gen had said, slipping to his knees beside her couch, "I will sleep with two knives under my pillow." Attolia had looked down at him and said sharply, "Don't be ridiculous." Only when Eugenides laughed had Sounis realized her implication: If she ever turned against Eugenides, a second knife wouldn't save him. He almost swallowed the olive in his mouth unchewed.

He would not let her go. Even though, staring into her open eyes in the swirling salt-filled water, with sun flashing though each wave, he thought he would like this moment to be forever: the dark-haired woman on shore calling for their safety, the girl who had once jumped rope like a queen, now holding him with a fierceness that matched the power of the ocean—oh, insane, ludicrous, unknowable world! Look how she wanted to live, look how she wanted to hold on.

Er," Oliver said. "He talks even less than the one Lily married," the crone remarked to Walter. "Though when the mood strikes him, he asks just as many questions as Galem." "I'm sorry," Oliver said weakly. The old woman nodded. "You are forgiven," she pronounced in a queenly tones.

I was half-afraid that I would do something awful, like faint or fart right in front of the queen, but all went well.

What’s in the box? Not a severed head—again—I trust?” It seemed too small for that, fortunately. Cordelia’s gray eyes glinted. “Now, now, Oliver. Bring home one dismembered body part, once, mind you, once, and people get twitchy about checking your luggage ever after.

It is a bad year for kings,” said Gondy, shaking his head; “look at England, madame.” “Yes; but fortunately we have no Oliver Cromwell in France,” replied the Queen. “Who knows?” said Gondy; “such men are like thunderbolts—one recognized them only when they have struck.

...[M]ortals are strange when people die. The more we hated or loved someone, the more we want to remember them. .... When people die, especially in a shocking, violent, or unexpected way, they tend to forgive, or at least forget, what angered them. It’s a blessing of Persephone. She doesn’t like it when people talk ill of the dead, being Queen of the Underworld and everything. It is also why we bring flowers for the dead.

I know it must have been hell for you, alone on that island for 5 years, but I'm... -But what? But was there ever a day when you were just... happy to be away from everything? No pressure from your family. No need to be the person everyone else expects you to be, was there ever a day when... -When I didn't feel lost, I felt... free? More than one and uh... Those are the days that I miss. -Huntress and Oliver, S1: E7, Arrow

If a queen bee were crossed with a Friesian bull, would not the land flow with milk and honey?

Her lips curved up despite themselves at the memory of Oliver in the crystal canoe, gazing as entranced as a boy at his newly discovered underwater Sergyar.

Denim miniskirt. Tight white T-shirt. Scooped neck. Extraordinarily olive skin. Legs that make you care about legs. Perfectly coiffed curly brown hair. A laminated button reading ME FOR PROM QUEEN. Lacey Pemberton. Walking toward us.

I can promise you, if you would rightly apply your poetic view, my goddess might be represented as an invincible, victorious queen, and boldly opposed to yours. It is true, she bears the olive rather than the sword: dagger or chain she knows not.

But her relationship with food was all about being Carmen of Seville. It was her truth, her statement to the world. And she didn't care if she had to use her beauty queen smarts to get people too take a bite- because once they had a taste of her flavors, of the garlic and olive oil and pinches of smoked paprika, pimentón,they would know. Carmen Vega wasn't just another pretty face. She was an artist.

Sooner or later, we all go through a crucible. I'm guessing your's was that island. Most believe there are two types of people who go into a crucible: the ones who grow stronger from the experience and survive it, and the ones who die. But there's a third type: the ones who learn to love the fire. They chose to stay in their crucible because it's easier to embrace the pain when it's all you know anymore,

The Queen sat in her place before the king-column, in a chair of olive-wood inlaid with pearl and silver; her footstool was covered with a sheepskin scarlet-dyed. On a low seat beside her sat a dark young man, with strange shadowed eyes, whom I took to be the King. She rose and came to meet us; a woman of about thirty years, handsome still, and a true Cretan, with dark crimped hair in serpent tresses, breasts heavy but round and firm, and a little waist tightly cinched in with gold. She held out to Ariadne both her hands, and gave her the kiss of welcome.

It felt good to scrub my skin, as if I was removing everything that felt dead about me. I was the "queen of skin care." Who knew that simply exfoliating my skin until raw (which I knew better than to do but now couldn't resist) would one day be what was left of my skin care regimen? My daily cleansing and moisturizing, weekly hydrating and purifying masks, along with monthly photo facials, glycolic peels, or microdermabrasion, was down to "super-scrub Saturdays." Pampering was a thing of the past. No more sunscreen applications to guard against the "UVAging" rays that were out to get me 365 days a year. No more weekly Epsom salts hot baths to detox my body, or lathering up with my favorite vanilla-scented moisturizing cream. No more applications of extra virgin olive oil to the ends of my hair to prevent splitting. I didn't even treat myself to my bedtime chamomile tea. All that had been replaced by a new nightly ritual of passing out on the bed, face down, which went against my cardinal rule of youth maintenance. Before the deep hollow pain was born inside me, I slept on my back, at the perfect thirty-degree angle to ensure proper circulation and prevention of any unnecessary creasing or wrinkling.

It is now time to face the fact that English is a crazy language — the most loopy and wiggy of all tongues. In what other language do people drive in a parkway and park in a driveway? In what other language do people play at a recital and recite at a play? Why does night fall but never break and day break but never fall? Why is it that when we transport something by car, it’s called a shipment, but when we transport something by ship, it’s called cargo? Why does a man get a hernia and a woman a hysterectomy? Why do we pack suits in a garment bag and garments in a suitcase? Why do privates eat in the general mess and generals eat in the private mess? Why do we call it newsprint when it contains no printing but when we put print on it, we call it a newspaper? Why are people who ride motorcycles called bikers and people who ride bikes called cyclists? Why — in our crazy language — can your nose run and your feet smell?Language is like the air we breathe. It’s invisible, inescapable, indispensable, and we take it for granted. But, when we take the time to step back and listen to the sounds that escape from the holes in people’s faces and to explore the paradoxes and vagaries of English, we find that hot dogs can be cold, darkrooms can be lit, homework can be done in school, nightmares can take place in broad daylight while morning sickness and daydreaming can take place at night, tomboys are girls and midwives can be men, hours — especially happy hours and rush hours — often last longer than sixty minutes, quicksand works very slowly, boxing rings are square, silverware and glasses can be made of plastic and tablecloths of paper, most telephones are dialed by being punched (or pushed?), and most bathrooms don’t have any baths in them. In fact, a dog can go to the bathroom under a tree —no bath, no room; it’s still going to the bathroom. And doesn’t it seem a little bizarre that we go to the bathroom in order to go to the bathroom? Why is it that a woman can man a station but a man can’t woman one, that a man can father a movement but a woman can’t mother one, and that a king rules a kingdom but a queen doesn’t rule a queendom? How did all those Renaissance men reproduce when there don’t seem to have been any Renaissance women? Sometimes you have to believe that all English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane: In what other language do they call the third hand on the clock the second hand? Why do they call them apartments when they’re all together? Why do we call them buildings, when they’re already built? Why it is called a TV set when you get only one? Why is phonetic not spelled phonetically? Why is it so hard to remember how to spell mnemonic? Why doesn’t onomatopoeia sound like what it is? Why is the word abbreviation so long? Why is diminutive so undiminutive? Why does the word monosyllabic consist of five syllables? Why is there no synonym for synonym or thesaurus? And why, pray tell, does lisp have an s in it? If adults commit adultery, do infants commit infantry? If olive oil is made from olives, what do they make baby oil from? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian consume? If pro and con are opposites, is congress the opposite of progress? ...

Queen of the Night Salsa 2.0 This is a jazzed-up version of an earlier recipe from our Precious Darlin’ George. He is ever seeking new and more delicious ways to please us and we adore him for this and other reasons.   MIX ALL THIS stuff together—1 15-ounce can drained and rinsed black beans, 1 11-ounce can Niblets corn, 1 small can chopped green chilis, 1 small can chopped black olives, 2 to 3 chopped fresh tomatoes, at least 8 ounces shredded Monterey Jack, 1 bunch chopped green onions, some cilantro (fresh or dried, to taste), 1/2 teaspoon chili powder, 1/2 teaspoon cumin, 1/2 to 3/4 of a 16-ounce bottle of Wishbone Robusto Italian dressing, and a whole big lot of chopped-up bacon. Obviously, the more bacon, the better—duh. Chill all that overnight in the refrigerator and then eat it all at one sitting the next day with Fritos.

Time out of mind, Minos had been High King of all the islands; they had traded by his laws and paid him his tribute. From Dia it had been very great, because the land was rich. This year it had been due again; now they would keep for themselves their olives and corn and sheep and honey, and their wine, than which there is none better; and all their boys and girls would dance at home. There was a feast tomorrow, of Dionysos, who himself planted the vine there, when he came sailing from the east as bridegroom of the Mother; and they would keep the day as it had never been kept before. But it surpassed all the rest for them, when they heard who Ariadne was. The people are mixed in Dia, but Naxos and its royal house are Cretan, the ancient stock without Hellene blood. They have the old religion, and a reigning Queen. So when they saw the Goddess-on-Earth among them, it was a greater thing than if Minos himself had come.

Again the water rose, they both took a breath; again they were submerged and his leg hooked over something, an old pipe, unmoving. The next time, they both reached their heads high as the water rushed back, another breath taken. He heard Mrs. Kitteridge yelling from above. He couldn't hear the words, but he understood that help was coming. He had only to keep Patty from falling away, and as they went again beneath the swirling, sucking water, he strengthened his grip on her arm to let her known: He would not let her go. Even though, staring into her open eyes in the swirling salt-filled water, with sun flashing through each wave, he thought he would like this moment to be forever: the dark-haired woman on shore calling for their safety, the girl who had once jumped rope like a queen, now holding him with a fierceness that matched the power of the ocean - oh, insane, ludicrous, unknowable world! Look how she wanted to live, look she wanted to hold on.

Yes. She needed that dog. A vicious guard dog. As well as a case to clip her can of pepper spray to her jeans and Captain America for a bodyguard. Or maybe the Green Arrow. Yes, definitely Oliver Queen.

he is as thick as Ash Wednesday’s turd,

The gallinule's candy-corn bill--- yellow at the tip, orange toward the eye---points at the waterline, and the blue and green of the feathers glint in the sunlight. I sketch the light blue cap and the oval body, hinting at its iridescence. The bird pokes her head sharply into the water, swallows, and beings to meander. She walks across floating lilies, pad to pad, and then into the reeds until I can't see her anymore, no matter how I steer the canoe. When she's gone, I look at my drawing. "Hee-hee!" I say aloud, sketching a few more quick studies to indicate her motion and the intensity of her stare, with notes on the deep iris blue of the head and breast, the aqua of the back and wings graduating to olive at the tips, and underneath an inky black.

Cordelia shivered, and Oliver glanced at her in concern. “Cold, Cordelia? You shouldn’t be standing around wet.

But you can’t be planning development out that way,” said Miles. “Mother is trying to get people to move away from the local tectonics.” Cordelia abandoned patience as unrewarding. “Actually, Oliver and I are dating.” Miles stared. The silence stretched just a little too long, though Ekaterin raised her eyebrows, looked back and forth between Cordelia and Jole, and ventured, “Congratulations!” Miles closed his mouth. In another moment, he opened it again. “Er…what exactly do you mean by dating? In this context.

You never need to be afraid of me. One thing you need to understand, Little one, is that even when we decide to make this official and I make you mine, you will be the one holding all the cards. You will draw the lines, and I will stay in those lines. I might be the Daddy, but you’re the queen and the queen always rules the hive. Do you understand?” - Angel to Nora [Angel (Daddies of the Shadows, #9)]

Place obols on my tongue and over my eyes so I can pay Charon. Put a biscuit in my hand so I can placate Cerberus. In my other hand put a sprig of olive flowers so I can present them to Queen Persephone. And let me go.

The fruit and vegetable stalls were a dazzling mass of color: oranges and tomatoes that we rarely saw in England. Bright lemons and purple onions. Spiky artichokes I had only just learned about at the palace; giant cloves of garlic- wouldn't the queen be horrified to see those? And shiny purple vegetables shaped like fat, bulging cucumbers. "What are they?" I asked the woman at the stall. She looked at me as if I was a visitor from the moon. "Aubergine, mademoiselle. You have not tried them? They are very good. We make the ratatouille." "And those?" I pointed to round red and yellow vegetables that looked so shiny they seemed to made of wax. "The peppers?" she asked in amazement. "You do not eat peppers where you come from?" "I've never seen them before," I said. "Then try," she urged. "And the aubergine, too. They are delicious stuffed." She shook her head as if I was a creature to be pitied. I bought one of each, and one of the purple onions at her insistence, and went on to the next stall. This one had an array of olives. Olives were a rare luxury in England. I had never tried them personally, but here was a whole stall with olives of varying colors and sizes- fat green ones, slim black ones, some stuffed with something red, others with a white cheese, some in olive oil, some not.

Dear Brace Face, Did I get your name right? Or was it Zipper Mouth? Maybe it was STUMP GRINDER! Sorry, sweetie. I’m so forgetful sometimes! Anyway, having braces isn’t all that bad. Let’s look at the pros and cons, shall we? PROS: #1: You can get a job at the Olive Garden restaurant grating cheese with your teeth! #2: Your mouth also multitasks as a paper shredder and chain saw! #3: With all the food you’re going to have stuck in your braces, you’ll have yourself a portable, FREE all-you-can-eat buffet! CONS: #1: People will follow you around to get a better cell phone signal. #2: A boyfriend with braces could become the kiss of death, literally. If your braces lock up during a smooch, you’ll both have to go to the orthodontist together to get it surgically terminated! #3: On a very clear day, you can pick up interstellar signals from ALIENS on Mars! Wait a second!! ALL of those sound like CONS, don’t they? Oh well! Too bad for you! Thank goodness I’ve ALWAYS had perfectly straight pearly whites! YAY ME !! —Miss Know-It-All

PROS: #1: You can get a job at the Olive Garden restaurant grating cheese with your teeth! #2: Your mouth also multitasks as a paper shredder and chain saw!

The dove, the chosen symbol of this deified queen, is commonly represented with an olive branch in her mouth, as she herself in her human form also is seen bearing the olive branch in her hand; and from this form of representing her, it is highly probably that she has derived the name by which she is commonly known, for "Z'emir-amit' means "The branch-bearer." When the goddess was thus represented as the Dove with the olive branch, there can be no doubt that the symbol had partly reference to the story of the flood; but there was much more in the symbol than a mere memorial of that great event. "A branch," as had been already proved, was the symbol of the deified son, and when the deified mother was represented as a Dove, what could the meaning of this representation be but just to identify her with the Spirit of all grace, that brooded, dove-like, over the deep at the creation; for in the sculptures at Nineveh, as we have seen, the wings and tail of the dove represented the third member of the idolatrous Assyrian trinity.

Where were you going at nearly three in the morning, anyway?’ Max asked, standing up and holding out his hand, so he could tug Neve up too. She flushed a little. ‘Well, I was going to the all-night shop on Seven Sisters Road to get some food because I haven’t eaten in weeks,’ she admitted, and she didn’t want to ruin this before it had even started again, the same way she’d ruined it last time. ‘This is just a one-off. I’m done with detox cleansing, I swear, but I’m also done with eating crap at weird hours because we can’t get out of bed. Except for right now, because I am seriously contemplating cutting off my own hand and lightly sautée-ing my fingers in extra-virgin olive oil.’ Max stood poised on the step above her, brow furrowed as if he was trying to reach a decision about something. Probably that he didn’t want to be with her enough to deal with her dietary restrictions any more. ‘OK, then. If that’s the way you want it,’ he said, as if he was done deciding. He jumped down the steps, picked up Keith’s lead and headed for the gate, while Neve stood there watching in disbelief. It didn’t hurt any less having your heart broken for the second time. In fact, it hurt more, and … ‘You coming, or what?’ Max called, already walking down the street. ‘We’d better get a move on or they might have sold out of that disgusting bread that’s all seeds and nothing else.’ With a hand clutched to her heart, which had had more than enough shocks in the last twenty-four hours, Neve hurried after Max and Keith. ‘You’re such a drama queen,’ Max complained when she caught up with him. ‘No one could be that hungry unless they’d survived a plane crash and been stranded on a desolate mountain-top for days and the only thing standing between them and death was gnawing on one of their dead travelling companions.’ Neve punched him on the arm. ‘Are you joking? If the shop turns out to be closed after all, I expect you to sacrifice a couple of fingers for the cause,’ she said, as she slipped her hand into his.

With little else to do I rode my Vesper motor scooter from Harbel to Roberts Field. Perhaps there might be some excitement around the airport, but no such luck. Eric Reeves the Station Master and Air Traffic Controller was in the tower and was in communications with the incoming airliner. Everything was quiet in anticipation of a Pan American Clipper's arrival. On the ground floor all was quiet except for a solitary passenger in the terminal. Apparently he was waiting for the next flight out, which wasn't due for another two hours. As I approached him, I could see that he looked familiar…. I immediately recognized him as a world class trumpet player and gravel voiced singer from New Orleans. He must have seen the look on my face and broke the ice by introducing himself as Louie Armstrong. "Hi," I answered, "I'm Hank Bracker, Captain Hank Bracker." I noticed that he was apparently alone sitting there with a mountain of belongings which obviously included musical instruments. Here was Louis Armstrong, the famous Louie Armstrong, all alone in this dusty, hot terminal, and yes he had a big white handkerchief! He volunteered that the others in his party were at the club looking for something to eat. With no one else around, we talked about New Orleans, his music and how someone named King Oliver, a person I had never heard of, was his mentor. At the time I didn't know much about Dixie Land music or the Blues, but talking to Louie Armstrong was a thrill I'll never forget. In retrospect it’s amazing to find out that you don’t know what you didn’t know. I found out that he actually lived in Queens, NY at that time, not too far from where my aunt and uncle lived. I also found out that he was the Good Will Ambassador at Large and represented the United States on a tour that included Europe and Africa, but now he was just a friendly person I had the good fortune to meet, under these most unusual circumstances. His destination was Ghana where he, his wife and his band the All Stars group were scheduled to perform a concert in the capitol city of Accra. Little did I know that the tour he was on was scheduled by Edward R. Murrow, who would later be my neighbor in Pawling, New York. Although our time together was limited, it was obvious that he had compassion for the people of the "Third World Nations," and wanted to help them. Although after our short time together, I never saw Louie again but I just know that he did. He seemed to be the type of person that could bring sunshine with him wherever he went.…

Nate might be a poor dumb bastard, but at least he wasn’t a dishonest, fraudulent dumb bastard, and that ought to count for something.

green olive tapenade makes about 3 cups 2 roasted red bell peppers, peeled and finely diced (see Chapter 1) 1 cup pitted and chopped green Cerignola olives 2 anchovy fillets, drained and crushed 2 tablespoons drained capers, rinsed and smashed 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar 6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil ¼ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley Freshly ground black pepper Kosher salt 1 In a nonreactive glass or ceramic mixing bowl, combine the bell peppers, olives, anchovies, capers, and vinegar. Add the olive oil and parsley and about 1 teaspoon of black pepper and stir gently to mix well. Season to taste with salt. 2 Cover and refrigerate for up to 7 days. homemade giardiniera makes about 6 cups 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 bay leaf Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes Pinch of dried oregano 2 cups apple cider vinegar 1 cup white wine vinegar 1 cup sugar 1 teaspoon kosher salt 1 fennel bulb, trimmed of fronds, diced 1 large red onion, diced 1 celery rib, diced 1 large carrot, peeled and diced 1 large red bell pepper, ribs removed, diced 1 large yellow bell pepper, ribs removed, diced 1 jalapeño pepper, halved and seeded 1 cup cauliflower florets 1 cup pitted and halved Queen green olives or other large green olives 3 pickled peperoncini, sliced (see Note) 1 fresh sprig thyme 1 cup extra virgin olive oil 1 In a small, dry skillet set over medium-high heat, toast the black pepper, bay leaf, red pepper, and oregano for about 1 minute, or until fragrant. Slide from the pan to a plate and allow to cool. 2 Lay a 5-to 6-inch square of cheesecloth on a work surface. When the herbs are cool, pile them in the center. Gather the corners together and tie with a length of string to make an herb sachet. 3 In a large pot, heat 2 cups of water and the cider vinegar, wine vinegar, sugar, salt, and herb sachet over high heat and bring to a boil. 4 Add the fennel, onion, celery, carrot, bell peppers, jalapeño, and cauliflower. Let the liquid return to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer, and cook for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the firmer vegetables (carrots, peppers, cauliflower) are al dente. 5 Remove from the heat and let cool. When the mixture is cool, add the olives, peperoncini, and thyme. Stir to mix, and then stir in the olive oil. Use right away or cover and refrigerate for up to 1 month.