Phoenix Tattoo Quotes

Grace’s gaze skimmed over her, taking in the various marks of possession that decorated her flesh. “Well, short of having ‘Property of Trey Coleman’ tattooed on your forehead, he couldn’t have made it any clearer that he considered you his, could he?

His muscles bulged from the workout, the Phoenix and Dragon tattoos which danced with each other on his back gleaming with sweat.

Harry’s heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam’s apple. He swallowed hard, turned the heavy iron door handle, and stepped inside the courtroom.

As I pushed the ring onto my finger, I saw two Phoenixes dancing before my eyes. The Order was long extinct, but I could feel the heat of their blue and red fire in that moment as intensely as if they were right before me. It was beautiful. The ring hummed against my flesh and I gasped as flames seemed to burn right into my blood. I stared in wonder as the ring dissolved into my flesh on my middle finger and left a mark there like a tattoo of two wings joining at the base and wrapping around to create an almost complete circle.

Hurricane Katrina arrived without a confirmed weather category, or a name that adequately addressed anger summoned from a thousand leagues down. When the levees broke in New Orleans images escaped television screens to tattoo every skin with the shameful reality that America’s towers fell twice. There was no phoenix. Only mosquitoes escaped the ashes, promising to puncture any still unbloodied with the needle kiss of plague. Then, a great swarm of dragonflies, sent by some other to even the odds. They feasted on the thin-limbed vampires, devoured body and virus, and then hovered around the floating bloated bodies of forgotten grandmothers, armored escorts of the dead. Their wings hummed swamp sonnets while their mouths swallowed maggots, thwarting attempts to hurry death beyond spring sunsets and autumn graves. They kept up their holy procession until New Orleans rebirthed jazz and cut the bodies loose and let saints march in all over again. As I steer my bike through one puddle after the other, making the street music urban rainforest dwellers know, I ask the splash to summon the dragonfly. Call her from the swamp into my throat to name the lump that will never loose me. Be my escort, gobble the flies ever entering me before their children become my whole.

It’s practically tattooed on his forehead. Ooh—let’s get a tattoo.” “Yeah!” Jaime rolled onto her side. “We totally should. Let’s do it tomorrow.” “Totally. Definitely. What’re you getting? I’m thinking of getting ‘Nick Axton Is a Fuck-Ass’ right across my forehead.” Jaime pursed her lips as she considered it. “I like it. It’s different. It has an edge to it.” “I know, right?

As Dante flicked through one of the portfolios placed on the coffee table in the corner of the reception area, he whispered into Jaime’s ear, “Do you think we could get my name tattooed on your ass?” Gaping, she slapped his upper arm. “I’d laugh if I thought you were joking.” “It would be the biggest turn-on ever to take you from behind and see my name on your ass.” He was getting hard just thinking about it.

Sitting between the two plumpest singing girls was a mercenary—that much was clear from the detailed tattoos spiraling down her outstretched arm. That she was a vagabond and ne’er-do-well was also obvious—she held in one hand a long pipe of Sister’s Blessing. Before her was a cup full of rice wine, on her face was a familiar blush of red. In no way was this a hero.

the Phoenix and Dragon tattoos which danced with each other on his back gleaming with sweat.

Finishing her cigarette, Raven put it out in the ashtray then sighed. “I never really bought into the God thing. Religion felt like a lie men told to make people listen to them. Mostly, it seemed dumb to think a magic man in the sky cared about us. Like if I was a magic man and could make the earth or whatever, I wouldn’t waste time on helping out losers.” Raven set the ashtray on the ground and crossed her arms as if cold. “I see what Lark has now with you, this house, the ugly dogs, her friends, and now the baby. It makes me think God might exist. While losers run in our family, Lark could be more if she let herself. Now she has more and I think God might have helped her out. I prayed someone would. Even not believing, I prayed and told God if He was real and wanted me to believe that He needed to help Lark. I guess He heard me because she’s happy like I’ve never seen her happy before. Not even when Phoenix was alive and we were the best we ever were as a family.” “I’m glad you’re here and you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but, Raven, my dogs aren’t ugly.” She laughed and tapped her foot against mine. “You’re a good guy. I know I said that before, but I didn’t think you would be. I’ve been around and good guys are rare.” “They exist though.” Raven nodded. “I need to quit men the way I need to quit smoking. Just go cold turkey. If I try to be rational about it, I’ll fool myself into falling for another creep. No, just say enough is enough all that shit. Focus on other stuff like a job and roller derby and family.” “If you ever get sick of living here, the Johanssons have an apartment that Cooper used to live in.” “There are plenty of apartments in Ellsberg.” “Yeah, but if you want to avoid loser men, those apartments won’t help. They’re full of assholes. College shitheads and lowlife fuckers. If you stay out there with the Johanssons, no man will bother you. You might even like Bailey. She’s an acquired taste, but a good friend if you can deal with her mouth.” “Bossy bitches are my favorite,” Raven said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “No hurry moving out though. Lark is feeling unsure about stuff and having you here makes her feel more centered. Like she’s combining her old life with her new one and it fits.” “I just have one question, bud,” Raven said, standing up and ready to leave the cold evening. “Are you planning to fix her damn worm?” “I don’t normally tattoo pregnant women.” “You really going to have your kid born to a chick with a worm tattoo?” Smiling at Raven, I nodded. “I don’t want to do anything to jinx the pregnancy. Since we’ve been together, Lark was hurt by Larry, got into a fight with my ex, and had to hide under the table during a bar brawl. I want the rest of her pregnancy to be as pain free as possible.” “Sissy,” she said, grinning. “I’m really glad you aren’t an asshole. It was a pleasant surprise.” “Glad you approve, but don’t mock my dogs again and stop barking at Pollack.” “Fuck off,” she said over her shoulder while walking inside.

We sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes before she speaks. “You’re right. There’s more to it.” I’m not sure if I should wait and let her speak, or if she’s waiting for an acknowledgement. I slowly turn my head toward her and settle my eyes on hers. “I went through a rough time a few years ago. I wasn’t sure things would get better for me. One day, Rick and Jo were able to knock some sense into me. When a Phoenix dies, it rises from its ashes to have a new life.” Her eyes leave mine as she rolls to her back and stares at the stars. “The tattoo reminds me of that. One chapter of my life may end, but that doesn’t mean a new chapter won’t come from the ashes. It probably sounds silly to you.

I was aware of Shostakovich's hidden code; the repeated, niggling act of subterfuge buried deep within the music: D - E-flat - C - B, played straight through, played backwards, flipped upside down; a tattoo on the soul of the music.

Phoenix and Dragon tattoos which

Grace’s gaze skimmed over her, taking in the various marks of possession that decorated her flesh. “Well, short of having Property of Trey Coleman tattooed on your forehead, he couldn’t have made it any clearer that he considers you his, could he?” Very true. In addition to those marks that Trey had left while they consummated the claiming, there were those that he had made during the second, third, and fourth rounds that followed through the night. There was a bite at the hollow of her throat, another on her inner wrist, a third one on the swell of her breast, and also claw marks on both upper arms—and those were only the ones that weren’t hidden beneath her black T-shirt, navy jeans, and black leather knee-high boots.

heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam’s apple.

I’m getting a tattoo,” he told me, and that was such a big deal, I held my breath. “A phoenix…for you.” And for him. “I want one too,” I said almost immediately and his eyes shone. Freddie was every bit the phoenix I was. We’d both been consumed by those flames.

Joker Tattoos: Who Gets The Last Laugh? Every few years, interest in DC’s iconic character ‘Joker’ resurfaces. Sometimes it’s a new movie or comic that finds its way into the public sphere, shedding new light upon the twisted psyche of a character that has terrified Gotham and fans alike. Most recently, Joaquin Phoenix’s take on the role has gotten people talking – a lot! Other times, it might just be a guy in a clown suit terrorizing local towns, causing media outlets to run wild with theories on whether The Joker is a bad influence on the youth.

He locked both arms around her. “The tattoo stays, it’s hot. Want me to get your name inked on me?” She opened her mouth to say no, but she’d be lying if she said her name on his skin didn’t hold some appeal. God, she was getting as bad as he was. “How about on my arm?” “No. That’s boring.” “How about over my heart then?” “No. That’s corny.” He frowned. “Is not.” “Is too.” Stubborn bitch. “We’ll discuss it later.

To tattoo was to understand that people in all their confusing mystery wanted only to claim their bodies as their own site, on which to build a beacon, or raise a rafter, or nail up a manifesto, warning, celebrating, telling of themselves. It was to understand that in order for a body to be reborn and re-yoked, first it needed to be destroyed and freed. It was emancipation and it was slavery, the ashes and the phoenix. It was beauty and destruction, it was that old trick. That was the contract.

violent tattoo against his Adam’s apple.

Darius barked a laugh as he placed his weight back on the rack and sat up. His muscles bulged from the workout, the Phoenix and Dragon tattoos which danced with each other on his back gleaming with sweat.

A black and red phoenix tattoo covers the middle half of Dad’s back in a 3D style sketch. Its tendrils resemble flames. “Wow.