Phoenix Woman Quotes

Don’t put your wand there, boy!” roared Moody. “What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!” “Who d’you know who’s lost a buttock?” the violet-haired woman asked Mad-Eye interestedly. “Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!” growled Mad-Eye. “Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore . . .” He stumped off toward the kitchen. “And I saw that,” he added irritably, as the woman rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

I'm not a little woman you need to defend.' His face hardened. 'That's exactly what you are: you're my little woman and I'm not having you sacrifice yourself for me.

There’s no way a woman could possibly resist your charm” Dominic smiled. “Or my dick. Don’t worry, I won’t get it out. I don’t want you all to get intimidated. and in the interest of health and safety, I think it’s better that he’s not unleashed.

I understand addiction now. I never did before, you know. How could a man (or a woman) do something so self-destructive, knowing that they’re hurting not only themselves, but the people they love? It seemed that it would be so incredibly easy for them to just not take that next drink. Just stop. It’s so simple, really. But as so often happens with me, my arrogance kept me from seeing the truth of the matter. I see it now though. Every day, I tell myself it will be the last. Every night, as I’m falling asleep in his bed, I tell myself that tomorrow I’ll book a flight to Paris, or Hawaii, or maybe New York. It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as it’s not here. I need to get away from Phoenix—away from him—before this goes even one step further. And then he touches me again, and my convictions disappear like smoke in the wind. This cannot end well. That’s the crux of the matter, Sweets. I’ve been down this road before—you know I have—and there’s only heartache at the end. There’s no happy ending waiting for me like there was for you and Matt. If I stay here with him, I will become restless and angry. It’s happening already, and I cannot stop it. I’m becoming bitter and terribly resentful. Before long, I will be intolerable, and eventually, he’ll leave me. But if I do what I have to do, what my very nature compels me to do, and move on, the end is no better. One way or another, he’ll be gone. Is it not wiser to end it now, Sweets, before it gets to that point? Is it not better to accept that this happiness I have is destined to self-destruct? Tomorrow I will leave. Tomorrow I will stop delaying the inevitable. Tomorrow I will quit lying to myself, and to him. Tomorrow. What about today, you ask? Today it’s already too late. He’ll be home soon, and I have dinner on the stove, and wine chilling in the fridge. And he will smile at me when he comes through the door, and I will pretend like this fragile, dangerous thing we have created between us can last forever. Just one last time, Sweets. Just one last fix. That’s all I need. And that is why I now understand addiction.

The girl you’re looking for no longer exists. She died thirteen years ago. The woman who’s left, she’s just a bartender.

‎"Damn, woman, you feel so good.' [Master] said hoarsely

Hear me, X-Men! No longer am I the woman you knew! I am Fire and Life incarnate! Now and forever - I am PHOENIX!

I think I've had a shit, Shaya." The poor woman sounded distressed and mortified. "Have I, Grace? Don't lie to me." "No, you haven't." "I have, you're lying. Is she lying, Lydia?" "No," Lydia quickly said, "you haven't, I promise.

But I’ve kept first of March as my birthday as I like to tease Zed about dating an older woman. And my parents wouldn’t understand if I told them about the soulfinder bond and tried to change it.” “They don’t know?” “Well, I think they’ve picked up that there’s something special between Zed and me but I’m not sure how I’d even start to explain to non-savants. I was exactly overjoyed when Zed filled me in about it all the first time.” “What did you do?” “Thumped him with a shopping bag and told him he was a jerk.” “Ouch.

Light as feathers, as fleeting as Zephyr, one moment they breathed pink, the next they faded. Cherry blossoms were as much an inspiration for beautiful verse as they were a reminder of life's fickleness, she thought.

We hardly dare trust that this is a process of transformation – that out of the ashes will rise the phoenix of humanity.

I’ve always known what you need. Someone to rage at who’s strong enough to take all the pain and fury you have to dish out until you’ve burned it out of your system and nothing is left but a pile of ashes from which the Phoenix rises. Kid, woman, whatever the hell you are—I want to see you rise. Even if you have to hate me.

I love the smell of a woman. It changes as her level of arousal heightens.

Socrates smile was devastating. "It's been my honor to introduce you to the woman you were meant to be.

I love you, Taryn," sobbed Greta. "I really do. I should have told you that before." A loud voice overrode the recording. "That is not me." "Greta, it's a video," said Taryn. "We can all see you on it, clear as day." "It's not me," Greta insisted. "Woman, we know what you look like.

I am a woman The way you perceive me, a reflection you shall see; If you love and admire me, I shall be a gentle breeze, If you downcast me, I shall rise like a phoenix!

I've got yo' scent " he said nostrils flaring. "I can find you anywhere. Anytime. Yo' heart be mine Kallie Riviere hoodoo woman.

She’s an awful woman,” said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in . . . we’ve got to do something about her.” “I suggested poison,” said Ron grimly.

This alpha will not bully me. I am my own woman and not some subordinate in his pack. I can match him in rage.

How do you set a Phoenix free? You find its light. You open its ribcage. You let it sing and watch it rise. @reenadossauthor

I never seem to have any level of restraint with you, woman.

then repaired and rebuilt my pack’s broken bodies, washing away burns and fixing fractured energy bases. I could do all of that, fight the phoenix and drown in grief, because I was a woman. We multitasked well.

Tao smiled a little smugly. “Riley doesn’t like the mall, she only shops online.” Dante gaped. “Dude, do not let her go. Like ever. Seriously, a woman who doesn’t like the mall is a gift from God—accept that gift with gratitude and grace.

A man can’t live alone forever and when a woman comes along who accepts him, his faults and demons, maybe it’s time he reevaluates his future.

I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a really delightful woman, who I know will be only too happy to advise you.

The righteous anger of a woman defending her family is a sight to behold, even in death. Beware the demon, for he will wish you to be his own.

You're not at work. When you're with me, you're not a cop. You're my woman. So if you don't want me running behind you, don't run your lone ranger ass into dangerous situations." "So what if something had happened to you? How the hell am I supposed to handle that?

She sighed heavily before whispering, “I’m still a bit confused as to what we are waiting for.” “We are waiting for one of the constants in our world, Miss Braun,” Wellington assured her. “At the end of every opera, there is the grand finale, where the music continues its gradual crescendo, the tenor and tempo rising ever so gradually for that pinnacle of dramatic tension, that moment of anticipation—” “Welly, are you talking about opera or about sex?” His next words caught in his throat. For a woman of higher tastes and seeming refinement, this woman could be utterly crass.

For a split second, Harry thought he was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured — then he realized it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, he had ever seen in his life.

At places where protruding rocks blocked its flow, the river hissed, eddying in ripples and foams, and then wrested its way forward with renewed rigor. For a while Bumbutai stood still, enchanted by the struggling brook, her spirits lifted and were imbued with a refreshing sense of hope. Mother Earth's healing hand could always do wonders to a world-wearied soul.

It's all right, Harry. We've come to take you away." Harry's heart leapt. He knew that voice, too, though he hadn't heard it for over a year. "P-Professor Lupin?" he said disbelievingly. "Is that you?" "Why are we all standing in the dark?" said a third voice, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman's. "Lumos" A wand-tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Harry blinked. The people below were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing up at him intently, some craning their heads for a better look. Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill; he had more grey hairs than when Harry had last said goodbye and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at Harry.

She is fragile as the morning dew melting in the warmth of a child's smile; stirring at the lonely, lovely waft of a butterfly's wings; tender as the curve of a wildflower petal. She is fierce as a summer storm now raging against the fiery sky; now raining tears to soothe the sun-scorched earth. She is soft as a midnight breeze swaying to the sound of waves breaking on distant shores; whispering comfort to a world steeped in the dark night of inhumanity. She is brilliant as the rising Phoenix lifting the suffering from the ashes; her own suffering woven into wings of fire in the long watches of the night. She is serene and turbulent as the silvered water hiding currents unknown beneath the gentle gaze of a human who has walked a thousand miles and still has more to go.

Perspiration ran down Phoenix’s flushed face, beading on his skin. His eyes glistened with the pain that racked his body. Gemma stared at him with respect. Not once had he cried nor begged for them to stop. He had gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw and taken every god damn thing that they had done. The Humans were pathetic—their victims a small child, a sixteen-year-old boy and a pregnant woman. Gemma’s

It became my duty once the witch before me became too crippled to attend the Rites. Sometimes you do the thing you hate so others don’t have to, whether it’s from love, guilt, or blackmail.” She paused to level a condemning stare on him. “No other woman in Beroe is safe from fire. It would be wrong and cowardly of me to let them burn when I can go in their place and survive. It doesn’t mean I have to like it just because I’m willing to accept it.

I lifted my chin, meeting the eyes of the woman who’d become the living embodiment of my totem, my bright phoenix, and forged ahead. “But I live with the wrong choices, the paths untraveled, the lives lost, and I never hold those regrets against anyone but myself. So, if you have some reason that you think I’ll regret getting in that car or not getting in that car, then tell me. Because I won’t have anything between us, either.” My mind flashed to an hourglass, grains of sand trickling away, carrying my life with them. “At least, nothing that we can avoid...like the fear of unspoken words.

Phoenix Blood There are only two things I am sure of in this world: the first is, one day, this life will come to its final destination in death The second: people will try to obliterate you, and believe me, even the ones that once promised you forever will betray you, it never fails to happen when love turns dark. Do yourself a favour when this happens; reclaim yourself from them. I know you have been taught to slice out your own heart, hand it over again and again to selfish hands, because it is all you have known since you were a child. You are an open wound looking for someone to cure you. And when they see that, they will scratch at it, steal your voice, thinking your magic will go with it, hoping your core swallows itself up. This is where you remember the lava of the volcano you come from, your ancestors were made from fire and it runs like hum that sings through your own vein-rivers of blood. You are not an open wound, they just want you to think you are. They have done this to every woman before you, yet women were made to endure; they become the earth, they adapt like water, they turn into diamonds to survive as who they are. This is how we become magic, we walk through fire and become more holy. They try to break us, we do not accept defeat. They try to devastate us, we still discover how to be happy. They banish us to the depths of hell, we just absorb and master the heat.

Even if you come up with Y-matches that are distant, but they all have the same name, you can say that is probably Mr. X’s last name and he belongs to the same extended family as those matches (along the direct line), maybe going back many generations. But in this case, there are a variety of names, so you can’t pin one down. The ‘flavor’ of the names can sometimes give you some ethnicity for your Mr. X. Say, if his list is made of all Irish names, you can say he’s probably Irish. That is what I did on the canal murders. Not only did I come up with the name Miller for their Canal Murderer, I also told the Phoenix PD that he was a Miller of Irish extraction. A few weeks later, they arrested Bryan Patrick Miller. That’s where I got the idea that the EAR had a German name but was from the UK. In the tests I ran for Michelle, that’s the ‘flavor’ of names I was coming up with.” So we were looking for a guy with a German name whose family at some point lived in the UK. Of course, he could have been adopted; then all bets are off.

Make me a banner of gold and red. I want an emblem of a dragon and a phoenix, and it must be completed tonight.” Dragon for emperor, phoenix for empress. Dragon for power and authority. Phoenix, that symbol of yin-yang harmony, because she was a woman and unashamed to be one.

a woman with a past is not a woman without a future?

You're going to hell, you know," she hissed. Scott turned abruptly. "No, lady, you've got it all wrong. I've been to hell. That angel pulled me out." He laughed out loud as the nasty woman's eyes widened and she ran away. It had just hit him. Angel. The name he'd always called Des. From day one. A name he'd never used on another woman. "My angel disguised as a demon," he murmured to himself in wonder. There was a whole lot of irony in there somewhere.

The woman had a blown-tight face only a wind tunnel could love and the hands of a crypt keeper.

Marriage is an institution created by God. Marriage was not initially created between a man and a woman for the purpose of procreation, but was created for all persons for emotional, physical, and spiritual companionship.

So, you put in a no-show for the turkey,” Sean said. “What’s up with that? You’re stateside, you’re not that far away….” “I have things to do here, Sean,” he said. “And I explained to Mother—I can’t leave Art and I can’t take him on a trip.” “So I heard. And that’s your only reason?” “What else?” “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, as if he did know what else. “Well then, you’ll be real happy to hear this—I’m bringing Mother to Virgin River for Thanksgiving.” Luke was dead silent for a moment. “What!” Luke nearly shouted into the phone. “Why the hell would you do that?” “Because you won’t come to Phoenix. And she’d like to see this property you’re working on. And the helper. And the girl.” “You aren’t doing this to me,” Luke said in a threatening tone. “Tell me you aren’t doing this to me!” “Yeah, since you can’t make it to Mom’s, we’re coming to you. I thought that would make you sooo happy,” he added with a chuckle in his voice. “Oh God,” he said. “I don’t have room for you. There’s not a hotel in town.” “You lying sack of shit. You have room. You have two extra bedrooms and six cabins you’ve been working on for three months. But if it turns out you’re telling the truth, there’s a motel in Fortuna that has some room. As long as Mom has the good bed in the house, clean sheets and no rats, everything will be fine.” “Good. You come,” Luke said. “And then I’m going to kill you.” “What’s the matter? You don’t want Mom to meet the girl? The helper?” “I’m going to tear your limbs off before you die!” But Sean laughed. “Mom and I will be there Tuesday afternoon. Buy a big turkey, huh?” Luke was paralyzed for a moment. Silent and brooding. He had lived a pretty wild life, excepting that couple of years with Felicia, when he’d been temporarily domesticated. He’d flown helicopters in combat and played it loose with the ladies, taking whatever was consensually offered. His bachelorhood was on the adventurous side. His brothers were exactly like him; maybe like their father before them, who hadn’t married until the age of thirty-two. Not exactly ancient, but for the generation before theirs, a little mature to begin a family of five sons. They were frisky Irish males. They all had taken on a lot: dared much, had no regrets, moved fast. But one thing none of them had ever done was have a woman who was not a wife in bed with them under the same roof with their mother. “I’m thirty-eight years old and I’ve been to war four times,” he said to himself, pacing in his small living room, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “This is my house and she is a guest. She can disapprove all she wants, work her rosary until she has blisters on her hands, but this is not up to her.” Okay, then she’ll tell everything, was his next thought. Every little thing about me from the time I was five, every young lady she’d had high hopes for, every indiscretion, my night in jail, my very naked fling with the high-school vice-principal’s daughter…. Everything from speeding tickets to romances. Because that’s the way the typical dysfunctional Irish family worked—they bartered in secrets. He could either behave the way his mother expected, which she considered proper and gentlemanly and he considered tight-assed and useless, or he could throw caution to the wind, do things his way, and explain all his mother’s stories to Shelby later.

George, I probably owe you an apology,” Maureen said. “I don’t think I was as friendly as I could have been when we ran into each other at Jack’s a week or so ago. The fact is, I do remember meeting you at Luke’s wedding. I don’t know why I was acting as if I couldn’t remember you. It isn’t like me to play coy like that.” “I knew that, Mrs. Riordan,” he said. She was stunned. “You knew?” He smiled gently. Kindly. “I saw it in your eyes,” he explained, then shifted his own back and forth, breaking eye contact, demonstrating what he saw. “And the moment I met you I knew you were more straightforward than that. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” She was a little uncomfortable now, in fact. She felt vulnerable, being found out before she even had a chance to confess. “And I was widowed quite a while ago.” “Yes, I know that, too. Twelve years or so?” he asked. She put her hands on her hips. “And you know this how?” she asked, not trying too hard to keep the indignant tone from her voice. “Well, I asked,” he said with a shrug. “That’s what a man does when he has an interest in a woman. He asks about her.” “Is that so? Well, what else did you find out?” “Nothing embarrassing, I swear. Just that you’ve been widowed quite a while now, all five sons are in the military, you live in Phoenix and, as far as anyone knows, you’re not currently seeing anyone special.” Special? she thought. Not seeing anyone period with absolutely no intention of doing so. “Interesting,” she said. “Well, I don’t know a thing about you.” “Of course you do. I’m a friend of Noah’s. A teacher.” He chuckled. “And obviously I have time on my hands.” “That’s not very much information,” she said. He took a rag out of his back pocket and wiped some of the sawdust and sweat off his brow. “You’re welcome to ask me anything you like. I’m an open book.” “How long have you been a teacher?” she asked, starting with a safe subject. “Twenty years now, and I’m thinking of making some changes. I’m seventy and I always thought retirement would turn me into an old fuddy-duddy, but I’m rethinking that. I’d like to have more time to do the things I enjoy most and, fortunately, I have a small pension and some savings. Besides, I’m tired of keeping a rigid schedule.” “You would retire?” “Again.” He laughed. “I retired the first time at the age of fifty and, after twenty years at the university, I could retire again. There are so many young professors who’d love to see a tenured old goat like me leave an opening for them.” “And before you were a teacher?” “A Presbyterian minister,” he said. “Oh! You’re joking!” she said. “I’m afraid it’s the truth.” “I’m Catholic!” He laughed. “How nice for you.” “You’re making fun of me,” she accused. “I’m making fun of your shock,” he said. “Don’t you have any non-Catholic friends?” “Of course. Many. But—” “Because I have quite a few Catholic friends. And Jewish and Mormon and other faiths. I used to play golf with a priest friend every Thursday afternoon for years. I had to quit. He was a cheat.” “He was not!” “You’re right, he wasn’t. I just threw that in there to see if I could rile you up. No one riles quite as beautifully as a redhead.

A strong woman, no matter how many times the fires of life reduces her to ashes, will always rise again like a phoenix.

Carefully, she inched her way around Billy and the woman until her view of the rooftops was unimpeded by pompous counts with their sarcastic little comments and their noses raised so high that they should be the ones sprouting wings.

So, you know how it feels to have your husband come home and tell you that he would rather be with a man than you? Do you know what that does to a woman?

And why’s Janis Joplin’s life read as a downward spiral into self-destruction? Everything she did is filtered through her death. Roger Gilbert-Lecomte, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, River Phoenix all suicided too but we see their deaths as aftermaths of lives that went too far. But let a girl choose death—Janis Joplin, Simone Weil—and death becomes her definition, the outcome of her “problems.” To be female still means being trapped within the purely psychological. No matter how dispassionate or large a vision of the world a woman formulates, whenever it includes her own experience and emotion, the telescope’s turned back on her. Because emotion’s just so terrifying the world refuses to believe that it can be pursued as discipline, as form. Dear Dick, I want to make the world more interesting than my problems. Therefore, I have to make my problems social.

Selma flushed and stamped her foot. “Trey? Trey?” Finally he spared the whining woman a glance. He’d only been half listening to the conversation, as he’d been too busy nuzzling Taryn’s neck, breathing in her exotic scent. As he licked over his claiming mark, a tremor ran through her.

If you have a few minutes, you should watch a TED talk from a woman named Brené Brown on vulnerability and shame. I don't think there's ever been a fifteen-minute talk that has had more of an impact on me than that one.

You are a hot-headed young woman with a tendency to bite when forced to share. You are abrasive and rude. You do not mask your irritation with etiquette. All these things you know, because you focus on the negatives.

The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all

Yeah, it was jus’ the pair of us. An’ I’ll tell yeh this, she’s not afraid of roughin’ it, Olympe. Yeh know, she’s a fine, well-dressed woman, an’ knowin’ where we was goin’ I wondered ‘ow she’d feel abou’ clamberin’ over boulders an’ sleepin’ in caves an’ tha’, bu’ she never complained once.

Being a woman doesn't make me any less capable than you. ~ Phoenix (Ravens and Ransom)

Not going to make ours?” Moreno said. “I’m sure you can manage.” “I burn everything. My people didn’t cook over fire.” “All people cooked over fire at some point,” Antone said. “You know what I mean. Your family.” “My family lived in a suburb of Phoenix. I learned campfire cooking in Scouts, like most boys in America.” “Touchy, touchy,” Moreno said. “I was just--” “Being an ass?” the woman said. Moreno muttered something, crushed his beer can, and threw it into the forest. The woman leaned over, took the stick, and started preparing a sausage. Antone walked into the forest, retrieved the can, and tossed it into the trash. “Earth Mother be angry,” Antone said as he came back to the fire. “Send big thundercloud.” Moreno made a face at him.

My people didn’t cook over fire.” “All people cooked over fire at some point,” Antone said. “You know what I mean. Your family.” “My family lived in a suburb of Phoenix. I learned campfire cooking in Scouts, like most boys in America.” “Touchy, touchy,” Moreno said. “I was just--” “Being an ass?” the woman said.

a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner … a greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies … a girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick

Owls belong to the night world" as Hitchcock pointed out; "they are watchers, and this appeals to Perkins's masochism. He knows the birds and he knows that they're watching him all the time. He can see his own guilt reflected in their knowing eyes." This explains other avian imagery: the crucial shot of Perkins knocking over a sketch of a bird when (in his "son personality") he discovers the body of Janet Leigh—the last "stuffed bird" is, aptly, a woman named Crane, who came from Phoenix (a city named for the mythic bird that returns from the dead); and why, when Perkins suggested candy, Hitchcock insisted it be candy corn, a confection that resembles the kernels pecked by chickens. (As will become clear, everything about Psycho points forward to and aesthetically necessitates Hitchcock's next feature film, The Birds.)

I relaxed, putting America behind me. What a weight that place put on my shoulders; a woman with wings should never be so burdened.

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It wasn’t enough for a woman to be talented, clever, or good. That wouldn’t save her.

I find her eyes, seeing a woman who built herself from the last spark of her dying embers. A phoenix. One that makes no excuses for who she made herself into, no apologies if you get too close to her and find yourself scorched. They’d ripped her wings from her back, but she replaced them with ashes and eternal wings made of the hottest blue flame. And in order for her to fly, I’m going to cut the chains keeping her rooted to the ground.

She’s an awful woman,’ said Hermione in a small voice. ‘Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in … we’ve got to do something about her.’ ‘I suggested poison,’ said Ron grimly.