“
And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow,
stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.
”
”
Dr. Seuss (How the Grinch Stole Christmas!)
“
Can you not understand that liberty is worth more than just ribbons?
”
”
George Orwell (Animal Farm)
“
...occasionally I wished I could walk through a picture window and have the sharp, broken shards slash me to ribbons so I would finally look like I felt.
”
”
Elizabeth Wurtzel
“
She peeped through one of the small holes in the outer wall rising up from the walkway. The world on the outside was nothing but countryside now. Dirt roads, like chocolate ribbons, disappeared into woods or green fields in the distance.
”
”
Sara Pascoe (Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For)
“
I was sentimental about many things: a woman’s shoes under the bed; one hairpin left behind on the dresser; the way they said, 'I’m going to pee.' hair ribbons; walking down the boulevard with them at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and smoking; talking; the arguments; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes; the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 3am; being told you snore; hearing her snore; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce; but always carring on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone in a sandwich joint and feeling nausea because she’s now married to a dentist with an I.Q. of 95; racetracks, parks, park picnics; even jails; her dull friends; your dull friends; your drinking, her dancing; your flirting, her flirting; her pills, your fucking on the side and her doing the same; sleeping together
”
”
Charles Bukowski (Women)
“
I would give you a crown if I could," he said. "I would show you the world from the prow of a ship. I would choose you, Zoya. As my general, as my friend, as my bride. I would give you a sapphire the size of an acorn." He reached into his pocket. "And all I would ask in return is that you wear this damnable ribbon in your hair on our wedding day.
”
”
Leigh Bardugo (Rule of Wolves (King of Scars, #2))
“
You know . . . a lot of kids at school hate their parents. Some of them got hit. And some of them got caught in the middle of wrong lives. Some of them were trophies for their parents to show the neighbors like ribbons or gold stars. And some of them just wanted to drink in peace.
”
”
Stephen Chbosky (The Perks of Being a Wallflower)
“
Christmas crept into Pine Cove like a creeping Christmas thing: dragging garland, ribbon, and sleigh bells, oozing eggnog, reeking of pine, and threatening festive doom like a cold sore under the mistletoe.
”
”
Christopher Moore (The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror (Pine Cove, #3))
“
Republicans stand for raw, unbridled evil and greed and ignorance smothered in balloons and ribbons.
”
”
Frank Zappa
“
I can't judge any of you. I have no malice against you and no ribbons for you. But I think that it is high time that you all start looking at yourselves, and judging the lie that you live in.
”
”
Charles Manson
“
Memory is a tenuous thing. . . .
flickering glimpses, blue
and white, like ancient,
decomposing 16mm film.
Happiness escapes
me there, where faces
are vague and yesterday
seems to come tied
up in ribbons of pain.
Happiness? I look for it intead
in today, where memory
is something I can still
touch, still rely on.
I find it in the smiles
of new friends, the hope
blossoming inside.
My happiest memories
have no place in the
past; they are those
I have yet to create.
”
”
Ellen Hopkins (Impulse (Impulse, #1))
“
Sean reaches between us and slides a thin bracelet of red ribbons over my free hand. Lifting my arm, he presses his lips against the inside of my wrist. I'm utterly still; I feel my pulse tap several times against his lips, and then he releases my hand.
"For luck," he says. He takes Dove's lead from me.
"Sean," I say, and he turns. I take his chin and kiss his lips, hard. I'm reminded, all of a sudden, of that first day on the beach, when I pulled his head from the water.
"For luck," I say to his startled face.
”
”
Maggie Stiefvater (The Scorpio Races)
“
When you come out of the grips of a depression there is an incredible relief, but not one you feel allowed to celebrate. Instead, the feeling of victory is replaced with anxiety that it will happen again, and with shame and vulnerability when you see how your illness affected your family, your work, everything left untouched while you struggled to survive. We come back to life thinner, paler, weaker … but as survivors. Survivors who don’t get pats on the back from coworkers who congratulate them on making it. Survivors who wake to more work than before because their friends and family are exhausted from helping them fight a battle they may not even understand. I hope to one day see a sea of people all wearing silver ribbons as a sign that they understand the secret battle, and as a celebration of the victories made each day as we individually pull ourselves up out of our foxholes to see our scars heal, and to remember what the sun looks like.
”
”
Jenny Lawson (Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things)
“
Time cannot be packaged and ribboned and left under trees for christmas morning.Time can't be given.But it can be shared
”
”
Cecelia Ahern (The Gift)
“
On and on they flew, over the countryside parceled out in patches of green and brown, over roads and rivers winding through the landscapes like strips of matte and glossy ribbon.
”
”
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7))
“
The next morning dawned bright and sweet, like ribbon candy.
”
”
Sarah Addison Allen (Garden Spells (Waverley Family, #1))
“
In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness.
”
”
Suzanne Collins (The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1))
“
A long white ribbon shot out of the crack in the wall. The ribbon just kept coming, weaving itself into some kind of shape next to Anubis, and my first thought was, My god, he’s got a magic roll of toilet paper.
”
”
Rick Riordan (The Red Pyramid (The Kane Chronicles, #1))
“
Promises are lies wrapped in pretty ribbons -Cinnamon
”
”
V.C. Andrews
“
Anyone who knew Violet well could tell she was thinking hard, because her long hair was tied up in a ribbon to keep it out of her eyes. Violet had a real knack for inventing and building strange devices, so her brain was often filled with images of pulleys, levers, and gears, and she never wanted to be distracted by something as trivial as her hair.
”
”
Lemony Snicket (The Bad Beginning (A Series of Unfortunate Events, #1))
“
I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas, as if whatever it was the pine boughs and the candles and the silver and gilt-ribboned presents and the birch-log fires and the Christmas turkey and the carols at the piano promised never came to pass.
”
”
Sylvia Plath (The Bell Jar)
“
I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
"That must have been the sun!
”
”
Emily Dickinson
“
True power does not need arrogance, a long beard and a barking voice. True power strangles you with silk ribbons, charm, and intelligence
”
”
Slavoj Žižek
“
I have a different idea of elegance. I don't dress like a fop, it's true, but my moral grooming is impeccable. I never appear in public with a soiled conscience, a tarnished honor, threadbare scruples, or an insult that I haven't washed away. I'm always immaculately clean, adorned with independence and frankness. I may not cut a stylish figure, but I hold my soul erect. I wear my deeds as ribbons, my wit is sharper then the finest mustache, and when I walk among men I make truths ring like spurs.
”
”
Edmond Rostand (Cyrano de Bergerac)
“
He's an enigma wrapped up in sensuality padlocked with a dozen chains of desire and topped off with a razor-sharp ribbon of danger. There are more layers to him than a billionaire's wedding cake.
”
”
Darynda Jones (Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet (Charley Davidson, #4))
“
I think I've come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am.
”
”
Jenny Slate
“
A deep rumble echoed in his chest.
I pulled back, laughing. "Are you growling at me?"
He laughed softly, twisted my hair ribbon around his fingers, and pulled gently, loosening my braid. Biting my ear lightly, he whispered a threat, "You have been driving me crazy for three weeks. Your lucky all I'm doing is growling.
”
”
Colleen Houck (Tiger's Quest (The Tiger Saga, #2))
“
Can I see it?"
She knew what he meant, and had held up her hands before her.
Ribbons and plumes and flowers of red and gold fire danced through his room, bright and glorious and elegant.
Chaol's eyes had been lined with silver when the flames winked out. "it's lovely," he said at last.
”
”
Sarah J. Maas (Queen of Shadows (Throne of Glass, #4))
“
To shut your eyes is to guess nothing of blindness. Beneath your world of skies and faces and buildings exists a rawer and older world, a place where surface planes disintegrate and sounds ribbon in shoals through the air.
”
”
Anthony Doerr (All the Light We Cannot See)
“
Mine was a patchwork God, sewn together from bits of rag and ribbon, Eastern and Western, pagan and Hebrew, everything but the kitchen sink and Jesus.
”
”
Anne Lamott (Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith)
“
Someone once wrote that a novel should deliver a series of small astonishments. I get the same thing spending an hour with you.
Also, here is a green toothbrush tied in a ribbon. It expresses my feelings inadequately.
”
”
E. Lockhart (We Were Liars)
“
The ribbon on my wrist says: Do not open before Christmas.
”
”
Fall Out Boy
“
You know that we've got a few problems we need to talk through before we get married."
"I'm not getting rid of Pooh."
"See, there you go being antagonistic. Marriage means learning to compromise."
"I didn't say I wouldn't compromise. I promise to take the ribbon out of her topknot before you walk her.
”
”
Susan Elizabeth Phillips (It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars, #1))
“
So up I got in anger,
And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon on my hair
To please a passing lad.
And, "One thing there's no getting by --
I've been a wicked girl," said I;
But if I can't be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!
”
”
Edna St. Vincent Millay
“
My name is Olivia King
I am five years old.
My mother bought me a balloon. I remember the day she walked through the front door with it. The curly hot pink ribbon trickling down her arm, wrapped around her wrist. She was smiling at me as she untied the ribbon and wrapped it around my hand.
“Here Livie, I bought this for you.”
She called me Livie.
I was so happy. I’d never had a balloon before. I mean, I always saw balloons wrapped around other kids wrists in the
parking lot of Wal-Mart, but I never dreamed I would have my
very own.
My very own pink balloon.
”
”
Colleen Hoover (Slammed (Slammed, #1))
“
Tell me about Raffe."
Nothing.
"okay. Let's practice fighting," I said in an enthusiastic voice as if I'm talking to a little kid. "I could use more lessons."
Nothing.
"Right. Well, I guess I have nothing better to do now than to decorate the teddy bear with ribbons and bows. What do you think of dusky pink?"
The room wavers, then morphs.
”
”
Susan Ee (World After (Penryn & the End of Days, #2))
“
Sometimes grace is a ribbon of mountain air that gets in through the cracks.
”
”
Anne Lamott (Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith)
“
Had I known you were going to pull a pretty ribbon out of your sleeve like some two-bit magician, tie me up with it, and indulge your mental torture fetish in your basement, I would've shot you. Many times."
"Two-bit magician?"
"Men like you enjoy being flattered.
”
”
Ilona Andrews (Burn for Me (Hidden Legacy, #1))
“
Ribbons! Long ones, short ones, ones for every mood." He does a little dance to the singsong rhythm. "Thin ones, thick ones, and ones to tie your shoes!
”
”
Nadine Brandes (A Time to Die (Out of Time, #1))
“
Strange how we decorate pain.
These ribbons, for instance,
and the small hard teardrops of blood.
Who are they for?
Do we think the dead care?
”
”
Margaret Atwood (Morning In The Burned House: Poems)
“
She had to give her teachers credit: they were right to insist all pupils carry scissors, handkerchiefs, perfume and hair ribbons at all times. At some point she'd learn why they also required a red lace doily and a lemon.
”
”
Gail Carriger (Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1))
“
Marya Morevna! Don't you know anything? Girls must be very, very careful to care only for ribbons and magazines and wedding rings. They must sweep their hearts clean of anything but kisses and theater and dancing. They must never read Pushkin; they must never say clever things; they must never have sly eyes or wear their hair loose and wander around barefoot, or they will draw his attention!
”
”
Catherynne M. Valente (Deathless)
“
There is, then, a world immune from change. But I am not composed enough, standing on tiptoe on the verge of fire, still scorched by the hot breath, afraid of the door opening and the leap of the tiger, to make even one sentence. What I say is perpetually contradicted. Each time the door opens I am interrupted. I am not yet twenty-one. I am to be broken. I am to be derided all my life. I am to be cast up and down among these men and women, with their twitching faces, with their lying tongues, like a cork on a rough sea. Like a ribbon of weed I am flung far every time the door opens. I am the foam that sweeps and fills the uttermost rims of the rocks with whiteness; I am also a girl, here in this room.
”
”
Virginia Woolf (The Waves)
“
I know I'm going to shred the skin off your face and turn it into hair ribbons.
”
”
Alexandra Bracken (Never Fade (The Darkest Minds, #2))
“
Poetry isn't like any writing I've ever heard before. I don't understand all of it, just bits of images, sentences that appear half-finished, all fluttering together like brightly colored ribbons in the wind.
”
”
Lauren Oliver (Delirium (Delirium, #1))
“
She tried to act as though it were nothing to go to the library alone. But her happiness betrayed her. Her smile could not be restrained, and it spread from her tightly pressed mouth, to her round cheeks, almost to the hair ribbons tied in perky bows over her ears.
”
”
Maud Hart Lovelace (Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown (Betsy-Tacy, #4))
“
A light which lives on what the flames devour,
a grey landscape surrounding me with scorch,
a crucifixion by a single wound,
a sky and earth that darken by each hour,
a sob of blood whose red ribbon adorns
a lyre without a pulse, and oils the torch,
a tide which stuns and strands me on the reef,
a scorpion scrambling, stinging in my chest--
this is the wreath of love, this bed of thorns
is where I dream of you stealing my rest,
haunting these sunken ribs cargoed with grief.
I sought the peak of prudence, but I found
the hemlock-brimming valley of your heart,
and my own thirst for bitter truth and art.
- Stigmata of Love
”
”
Federico García Lorca
“
Janies lips part in surprise. She takes it. Feels really strange about opening it in front of him. She wets her lips and examines the box and the ribbon that surounds it. "Thank you." She says softly. "Um..." He clears his throat, "The gift, see is actually inside the box. The box is like an extra bonus gift.It's how we do things here on planet Earth.
”
”
Lisa McMann (Fade (Wake, #2))
“
It's a road!"
I patted his back." It's a lovely road. Now which way do we go?"
Corey looked one way, the brown ribbon extending into emptiness. He looked the other way, saw the same thing and his shoulders slumped.
"Damn.
”
”
Kelley Armstrong (The Calling (Darkness Rising, #2))
“
I sighed softly and basked in the barrage of Ren's kisses- drowning kisses, soft kisses, sultry kisses, kisses that lasted a mere second, and kisses that lasted an eternity. It was easy to believe that my warrior-angel had captured me and had flown me up to heaven. A deep rumble echoed in his chest.
I pulled back, laughing. "Are you growling at me?"
He laughed softly, twisted my hair ribbon around his fingers, and pulled gently, loosening my braid. Biting my ear lightly, he whispered a threat, "You have been driving me crazy for three weeks. You're lucky all I'm doing is growling.
”
”
Colleen Houck
“
Sleep deprivation made his life an imaginary thing, his days a ribbon floating aimlessly in water." - Whelk
”
”
Maggie Stiefvater (The Raven Boys (The Raven Cycle, #1))
“
We walked along the river with the words streaming behind us like ribbons in the night.
”
”
Sue Monk Kidd (The Secret Life of Bees)
“
Cam held her closer. "Marry me, Amelia. You're what I want. You're my fate." One hand slid to the back of her head, gripping the braids and ribbons to keep her mouth upturned. "Say yes." He nibbled at her lips, licked at them, opened them. He kissed her until she writhed in his arms, her pulse racing. "Say it, Amelia, and save me from ever having to spend a night with another woman. I'll sleep indoors. I'll get a haircut. God help me, I think I'd even carry a pocket watch if it pleased you.
”
”
Lisa Kleypas (Mine Till Midnight (The Hathaways, #1))
“
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths - for you the shores
a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
”
”
Walt Whitman (Leaves of Grass)
“
In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness. At least a rainbow gives you a tip about the weather.
”
”
Suzanne Collins (The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1))
“
Literature as a whole is not an aggregate of exhibits with red and blue ribbons attached to them, like a cat-show, but the range of articulate human imagination as it extends from the height of imaginative heaven to the depth of imaginative hell.
”
”
Northrop Frye (The Educated Imagination (Midland Book))
“
What an unreliable thing is time--when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl's hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair. .... But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.
”
”
Rohinton Mistry (A Fine Balance)
“
He'd laugh in my face, then I'd slice him to ribbons and then he'd break my neck
”
”
Ilona Andrews (Magic Bleeds (Kate Daniels, #4))
“
To shut your eyes is to guess nothing of blindness. Beneath your world of skies and faces and buildings exists a rawer and older world, a place where surface planes disintegrate and sounds ribbon in shoals through the air. Marie-Laure can sit in an attic high above the street and hear lilies rustling in marshes two miles away. She hears Americans scurry across farm fields, directing their huge cannons at the smoke of Saint-Malo; she hears families sniffling around hurricane lamps in cellars, crows hopping from pile to pile, flies landing on corpses in ditches; she hears the tamarinds shiver and the jays shriek and the dune grass burn; she feels the great granite fist, sunk deep into the earth’s crust, on which Saint-Malo sits, and the ocean teething at it from all four sides, and the outer islands holding steady against the swirling tides; she hears cows drink from stone troughs and dolphins rise through the green water of the Channel; she hears the bones of dead whales stir five leagues below, their marrow offering a century of food for cities of creatures who will live their whole lives and never once see a photon sent from the sun. She hears her snails in the grotto drag their bodies over the rocks.
”
”
Anthony Doerr (All the Light We Cannot See)
“
I woan let you go back to that boy--not until you give me one bec doux." A sweet kiss. Then he reached forward, unlacing the ribbon from my hair.
"What are you doing?" I murmured.
"Souvenir." He put it in his pocket, and for some reason that struck me as the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.
”
”
Kresley Cole (Poison Princess (The Arcana Chronicles, #1))
“
(About Love)The most important thing in life, and you can't tell whether people have it or not. Surely this is wrong? Surely people who are happy should look happy, at all times, no matter how much money they have or how uncomfortable their shoes are or how little their child is sleeping; and people who are doing OK but have still not found their soul-mate should look, I don't know, anxious, like Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally; and people who are desperate should wear something, a yellow ribbon maybe, which would allow them to be identified by similar desperate people.
”
”
Nick Hornby (High Fidelity)
“
We Irish prefer embroideries to plain cloth. To us Irish, memory is a canvas--stretched, primed, and ready for painting on. We love the "story" part of the word "history," and we love it trimmed out with color and drama, ribbons and bows. Listen to our tunes, observe a Celtic scroll: we always decorate our essence.
”
”
Frank Delaney (Tipperary)
“
Strider's bedroom "The only thing hanging on the wall that wasn't a weapon was the portrait just over the bed. No. Not true, he thought then. The portrait was a weapon, too. Of seduction. In it Strider was utterly naked and whisking through the cloads like an avenging angel. He was holding a teddy bear in one hand and a stream of pink ribbons in the other. Anya had given him the nearly life-size monstrasity as a joke. But the joke was on her. He loved the thing.
”
”
Gena Showalter (The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld, #7))
“
Biting her lip to stop her chin from quivering, Alexandra raised her eyes to his. "I think," she whispered, trying to smile, "I shall wear the ruby on Queen's Race day, so that when I tie my ribbon on your sleeve—"
With a groan, Jordan pulled her into his arms.
"Now that you've said all those other things," she whispered when he finally lifted his lips from hers several minutes later, "do you think you could possibly say 'I love you'? I've been waiting to hear that since you began and—"
"I love you," he said fiercely. "I love you," he whispered softly, burying his face in her hair. "I love you," he groaned, kissing her lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you…
”
”
Judith McNaught (Something Wonderful (Sequels, #2))
“
I am one who has always been interested only in the edges of the body and the spirit, the outlying regions of the body and the outlying regions of the spirit. The depths hold no interest for me; I leave them to others, for they are shallow, commonplace. What is there, then, at the outer most edge? Nothing, perhaps, save a few ribbons, dangling down into the void.
”
”
Yukio Mishima (Sun & Steel)
“
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
”
”
Alfred Noyes (The Highwayman)
“
Disturber shuffled his scroll. 'You have used magi for evil purposes, including twenty-three murders--'
'Self-defense!' Setne tried to spread his hands, but the ribbons restrained him.
'--including one incident where you were paid to kill with magic,' Disturber said.
Setne shrugged. 'That was self-defense for my employer.
”
”
Rick Riordan (The Serpent's Shadow (The Kane Chronicles, #3))
“
My eyes are bright, my hair has come loose from its ribbon, and Stella's scarf is waving around my neck. But that's not what I see when I look at the picture. I see three unlikely friends holding hands. And Ryan, Kenny, and Melanie are standing behind us, rapt.
And in the sky above us, I see a miracle.
”
”
Wendy Mass (Every Soul a Star)
“
When we mentally give a person, place, or point in time more credit than ourselves, we create a fictitious ceiling. A restriction over the expectations that we have over our own performance in that moment. We get tense. We focus on the outcome instead of the activity and we miss the doing of the deed. We either think the world depends on the result or it's too good to be true. But it doesn't and it isn't. And it's not our right to believe it does or is.
Don't create imaginary constraints. A leading role, a blue ribbon, a winning score, a great idea, the love of our life, euphoric bliss... Who are we to think we don't deserve these fortunes when they're in our grasp? Who are we to think we haven't earned them?
If we stay and process within ourselves, in the joy of the doing, we will never choke at the finish line. Why? Because we're not thinking of the finish line. We're not looking at the clock. We’re not watching ourselves on the Jumbotron performing. We are performing in real time where the approach is the destination.
”
”
Matthew McConaughey (Greenlights)
“
Love was there in my empty bed. It was piled up in the records Lauren bought me when we were teenagers. It was in the smudged recipe cards from my mum in between the pages of cookbooks in my kitchen cabinet. Love was in the bottle of gin tied with a ribbon that India had packed me off with; in the smeary photo-strips with curled corners that would end up stuck to my fridge. It was in the note that lay on the pillow next to me, the one I would fold up and keep in the shoebox of all the other notes she had written before. I woke up safe in my one-woman boat. I was gliding into a new horizon; floating in a sea of love. There it was. Who knew? It had been there all along.
”
”
Dolly Alderton (Everything I Know About Love: A Memoir)
“
The stuff of nightmare is their plain bread. They butter it with pain. They set their clocks by deathwatch beetles, and thrive the centuries. They were the men with the leather-ribbon whips who sweated up the Pyramids seasoning it with other people's salt and other people's cracked hearts. They coursed Europe on the White Horses of the Plague. They whispered to Caesar that he was mortal, then sold daggers at half-price in the grand March sale. Some must have been lazing clowns, foot props for emperors, princes, and epileptic popes. Then out on the road, Gypsies in time, their populations grew as the world grew, spread, and there was more delicious variety of pain to thrive on. The train put wheels under them and here they run down the log road out of the Gothic and baroque; look at their wagons and coaches, the carving like medieval shrines, all of it stuff once drawn by horses, mules, or, maybe, men.
”
”
Ray Bradbury (Something Wicked This Way Comes)
“
[Home Economics Textbook from 1950]: "Prepare yourself. Take fifteen minutes to rest so you'll look refreshed when hubby comes home from work. Touch up makeup and put a ribbon in your hair. He's just been with work-weary people. Be a little gay. His boring day needs a lift."
Mama Celia: "Get knee-walking drunk. You've earned it. You've been with four kids under the age of seven all day. Put a ribbon in your nose and try to pull it out of your mouth. You're wasted, after all. Announce you're gay. The look on his face will give you a lift.
”
”
Celia Rivenbark (Bless Your Heart, Tramp: And Other Southern Endearments)
“
I'll tell you how the sun rose
A ribbon at a time...
It's a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were . . . and feel a kind of sickness at the idea you never again will be.
So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.
And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?
”
”
Donald Miller (Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road)
“
He was beautiful, that was always affirmed, but his beauty was hard to fix or to see, for he was always glimmering, flickering, melting, mixing, he was the shape of a shapeless flame, he was the eddying thread of needle-shapes in the shapeless mass of the waterfall. He was the invisible wind that hurried the clouds in billows and ribbons. You could see a bare tree on the skyline bent by the wind, holding up twisted branches and bent twigs, and suddenly its formless form would resolve itself into that of the trickster.
”
”
A.S. Byatt (Ragnarok: The End of the Gods)
“
I want to get my invisibility sweatshirt and skullcap out of my bag and put it on. But I don't. I want to believe the red ribbon around my wrist will keep me safe always. But it won't. I want to play How Would You Rather Die? instead of figuring out how to live. But I can't. I'm over being a coward. I'm sick of being on pause, of being buried and hidden, of being petrified, in both senses of the word.
I don't want to imagine meadows, I want to run through them.
”
”
Jandy Nelson (I'll Give You the Sun)
“
Jane hid her trembling hands inside her muff. She wished there was a way to hide the fact that she was trembling all over. “I understood you from the first moment I saw you,” she admitted, her voice little more than a whisper.
Mr Churchill looked up from her ribbons, and she was bowled over by his beautiful, soul-piercing, intelligent eyes. “And I knew from the moment you looked at me, that you understood me like no one has ever understood me before.”
”
”
Jeanette Watts (My Dearest Miss Fairfax)
“
Alec tugged at the front of Max’s sailor suit. “That’s a lot of ribbons there, buddy.” Max nodded sadly. “Too much ribbons.” “What happened to your sweater?” “That’s a fine question, Alexander. Allow me to unfold to you the tale. Max rolled his sweater in the cat litter,” Magnus related. “So he could ‘look like Daddy.’ Thus he must wear the sailor suit of shame. I don’t make the rules. Oh, wait, yes, I do.” He waved a reproving finger at Max, who laughed again and tried to grab for the glitter of rings.
”
”
Cassandra Clare (The Land I Lost (Ghosts of the Shadow Market, #7))
“
And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
”
”
Alfred Noyes (The Highwayman)
“
Mr Churchill caught the end of one of the long ribbons from her bonnet, which were flying madly in the strong breeze. He toyed with it for a long while, then looked up into her eyes. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked.
“No, I don’t suppose I do,” Jane answered. Her heart started beating harder. That was a lie. Maybe her breath was catching in her throat because she was lying: she fell in love with him the moment she saw him, rescuing the poor store clerk. Or maybe it was because he was standing so close to her, just on the other end of her bonnet ribbon. She felt her cheeks growing warm, and tried to talk herself out of blushing. He was not standing any closer to her than when they danced together, or sat on the same bench at the pianoforte. Why should it fluster her that he was wrapping the end of her bonnet ribbon around his fingers like that?
”
”
Jeanette Watts (My Dearest Miss Fairfax)
“
This is how space begins, with words only, signs traced on the blank page. To describe space: to name it, to trace it, like those portolano-makers who saturated the coastlines with the names of harbours, the names of capes, the names of inlets, until in the end the land was only separated from the sea by a continuous ribbon of text. Is the aleph, that place in Borges from which the entire world is visible simultaneously, anything other than an alphabet?
”
”
Georges Perec (Species of Spaces and Other Pieces)
“
She took me to her room and stood me in front of her dresser, which was covered in a pillowcase with pretty colors. She lifted off the pillowcase, and there I was, standing in my old suit, looking at an old typewriter with a fresh ribbon. Inside the typewriter was a piece of white paper.
On that piece of white paper, Sam wrote, "Write about me sometime." And I typed something back to her, standing right there in her bedroom. I just typed.
"I will."
And I felt good that those were the first two words that I ever typed on my new old typewriter that Sam gave me. We just sat there quiet for a moment, and she smiled. And I moved to the typewriter again, and I wrote something.
"I love you, too."
And Sam looked at the paper, and she looked at me.
"Charlie . . . have you ever kissed a girl?"
I shook my head no. It was so quiet.
"Not even when you were little?"
I shook my head no again. And she looked very sad.
She told me about the first time she was kissed. She told me that it was with one of her dad's friends. She was seven. And she told nobody about it except for Mary Elizabeth and then Patrick a year ago. And she started to cry. And she said something that I won't forget. Ever.
"I know that you know that I like Craig. And I know that I told you not to think of me that way. And I know that we can't be together like that. But I want to forget all those things for a minute. Okay?"
"Okay."
"I want to make sure that the first person you kiss loves you. Okay?"
Okay." She was crying harder now. And I was, too, because when I hear something like that I just can't help it.
"I just want to make sure of that. Okay?"
"Okay."
And she kissed me. It was the kind of kiss that I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.
”
”
Stephen Chbosky (The Perks of Being a Wallflower)
“
Kai appeared in the foyer below with a garland of ribbon and roses draped across his shoulders. Cinder smirked. “Having fun down there?” “Surprisingly, I sort of am. Turns out Thorne has a weird knack for this wedding thing. He says it’s because Cress has been poring over wedding feeds for the past few months, but … I think he’s secretly enjoying it.” Thorne’s voice came booming from the sitting room: “Don’t mock a guy for having good taste!
”
”
Marissa Meyer (Stars Above: A Lunar Chronicles Collection (The Lunar Chronicles, #4.5))
“
I can’t help but notice,” Alina said. “The too-clever fox gave up his throne, but still managed to stay a king.”
“A prince,” Genya corrected. “Prince consort. Or is he your general?”
Zoya didn’t really care what title he took. He was hers, and that was all that mattered. Her eye caught on the blueprints she’d found waiting for her on her desk that morning, designs for an extraordinary structure Nikolai had designed to protect her garden. The plans had been bound with her blue velvet ribbon and accompanied by a note that read, I will always seek to make it summer for you. Zoya had been courted by men of wealth and power, offered jewels, palaces, the deed to a diamond mine. This was a different kind of treasure, one she could not believe she’d been lucky enough to find.
”
”
Leigh Bardugo (Rule of Wolves (King of Scars, #2))
“
I tried to smile back, but I was trying not to stare at the ribbon of skin that was showing beneath his T-shirt as he bent over. As usual, my mouth went a little dry and my breathing sped up, and that weird, almost sad feeling settled in my stomach. I never thought I'd be glad to hear Vandy's braying voice, but when she shouted, 'All right! That's it for today!' I could have kissed her.
Well, on second thought, no. Maybe a firm handshake.
”
”
Rachel Hawkins (Hex Hall (Hex Hall, #1))
“
Someone once wrote that a novel should deliver a series of small astonishments. I get the same thing spending an hour with you.
Also, here is a green toothbrush tied in a ribbon.
It expresses my feelings inadequately..
Better than chocolate, being with you last night.
Silly me, I thought nothing was better than chocolate.
In a profound symbolic gesture,I am giving you this bar of Vosges I got when we all went to Edgartown. You can eat it, or just sit next to it and feel superior.
”
”
E. Lockhart (We Were Liars)
“
Where are we going?” Desandra asked.
“We’re going to Blue Ribbon Stables,” I said. “It’s the closest place to rent a horse.
“Why?” Desandra asked.
“Because I can’t keep up with you on foot,” I said.
“And she runs like a rhino.” Derek added. “You can hear her a mile away.”
Traitor. “I thought you had my back?”
“I do,” Derek said. “The rhino running is nice. Makes it easy to keep track of you. If I ever lose you, I just have to listen and there you are.”
“Yes,” Desandra agreed. “It’s convenient.”
I laughed.
“Are you always this casual?” Robert asked.
“Derek and I worked together for a long time,” I told him. “He’s allowed some leeway.”
“What about Desandra?”
“She only bothers with protocol when she wants something. The rest of the time it’s lewd jokes and descriptions of plums.”
Desandra snickered.
Robert’s eyebrows crept up. “Plums?”
I waved my hand. “Don’t ask.
”
”
Ilona Andrews (Magic Breaks (Kate Daniels, #7))
“
Anyhow,” she went on, “so long as my mother forced me to embroider, I insisted on choosing a pattern that interested me. I’ve never understood why girls are always made to stitch insipid flowers and ribbons.”
“Well, just to hazard a guess . . .” Colin straightened his edge. “Perhaps that’s because sleeping on a bed of flowers and ribbons sounds delightful and romantic. Whereas sharing one’s bed with a primeval sea snail sounds disgusting.”
Her jaw firmed. “You’re welcome to sleep on the floor.”
“Did I say disgusting? I meant enchanting. I’ve always wanted to go to bed with a primeval sea snail.
”
”
Tessa Dare (A Week to be Wicked (Spindle Cove, #2))
“
Wow," Puck mused, standing beside me. "The River of Dreams." ... Moons, comets and constellations rippled on the surface, and other, stranger things floated upon the misty black waters. Petals and book pages, butterfly wings and silver medals. The hilt of a sword stuck out of the water at an odd angle, the silver blade tangled with ribbons and spiderwebs. A coffin bobbed to the surface, covered in dead lilies, before sinking into the depths once more. The debris of human imaginations, floating through the dark waters of dream and nightmare.
”
”
Julie Kagawa (The Iron Knight (The Iron Fey, #4))
“
How did you know?”
“I…” Thomas swallowed hard, his attention fixed on the painting. “The truth?”
“Please.”
“You’ve got a dress with orchid blossoms embroidered on it. Ribbons in the deepest purple. You favor the color, but not nearly as much as I find myself favoring you.” He took a deep breath. “As to the stars? Those are what I prefer. More than medical practices and deductions. The universe is vast. A mathematical equation even I have no hope of solving. For there are no limits to the stars; their numbers are infinite. Which is precisely why I measure my love for you by them. An amount too boundless to count.
”
”
Kerri Maniscalco (Hunting Prince Dracula (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #2))
“
I want to be able to listen to recording of piano sonatas and know who's playing. I want to go to classical concerts and know when you're meant to clap. I want to be able to 'get' modern jazz without it all sounding like this terrible mistake, and I want to know who the Velvet Underground are exactly. I want to be fully engaged in the World of Ideas, I want to understand complex economics, and what people see in Bob Dylan. I want to possess radical but humane and well-informed political ideals, and I want to hold passionate but reasoned debates round wooden kitchen tables, saying things like 'define your terms!' and 'your premise is patently specious!' and then suddenly to discover that the sun's come up and we've been talking all night. I want to use words like 'eponymous' and 'solipsistic' and 'utilitarian' with confidence. I want to learn to appreciate fine wines, and exotic liquers, and fine single malts, and learn how to drink them without turning into a complete div, and to eat strange and exotic foods, plovers' eggs and lobster thermidor, things that sound barely edible, or that I can't pronounce...Most of all I want to read books; books thick as brick, leather-bound books with incredibly thin paper and those purple ribbons to mark where you left off; cheap, dusty, second-hand books of collected verse, incredibly expensive, imported books of incomprehensible essays from foregin universities.
At some point I'd like to have an original idea...And all of these are the things that a university education's going to give me.
”
”
David Nicholls (Starter for Ten)
“
I had always buried things, even when I was small; I remember that once I quartered the long field and buried something in each quarter to make the grass grow higher as I grew taller, so I would always be able to hide there. I once buried six blue marbles in the creek bed to make the river beyond run dry. 'Here is a treasure for you to bury,' Constance used to say to me when I was small, giving me a penny, or a bright ribbon; I had buried all my baby teeth as they came out one by one and perhaps someday they would grow as dragons. All our land was enriched with my treasures buried in it, thickly inhabited just below the surface with my marbles and my teeth and my colored stones, all perhaps turned to jewels by now, held together under the ground in a powerful taut web which never loosened, but held fast to guard us.
”
”
Shirley Jackson (We Have Always Lived in the Castle)
“
All fiction is metaphor. Science fiction is metaphor. What sets it apart
from older forms of fiction seems to be its use of new metaphors, drawn from
certain great dominants of our contemporary life -- science, all the sciences,
and technology, and the relativistic and the historical outlook, among them.
Space travel is one of these metaphors; so is an alternative society, an
alternative biology; the future is another. The future, in fiction, is a
metaphor.
A metaphor for what?
If I could have said it non-metaphorically, I would not have written all these
words, this novel; and Genly Ai would never have sat down at my desk and used
up my ink and typewriter ribbon in informing me, and you, rather solemnly,
that the truth is a matter of the imagination.
”
”
Ursula K. Le Guin
“
You'll want all your strength for the wedding night."
I cannot think why I should need strength," she said, ignoring a host of spine-tingling images rising in her mind's eye. "All I have to do is lie there."
"Naked," he said grimly.
"Truly?" She shot him a glance from under her lashes. "Well, if I must, I must, for you have the advantage of experience in these matters. Still, I do wish you'd told me sooner. I should not have put the modiste to so much trouble about the negligee."
"The what?"
"It was ghastly expensive," she said, "but the silk is as fine as gossamer, and the eyelet work about the neckline is exquisite. Aunt Louisa was horrified. She said only Cyprians wear such things, and it leaves nothing to the imagination."
Jessica heard him suck in his breath, felt the muscular thigh tense against hers.
"But if it were left to Aunt Louisa," she went on,"I should be covered from my chin to my toes in thick cotton ruffled with monstrosities with little bows and rosebuds. Which is absurd, when an evening gown reveals far more, not to mention--"
"What color?" he asked. His low voice had roughened.
"Wine red," she said, "With narrow black ribbons threaded through the neckline. Here." She traced a plunging U over her bosom. "And there's the loveliest openwork over my...well, here." She drew her finger over the curve of her breast a bare inch above the nipple. "And openwork on the right side of the skirt. From here" --she pointed to her hip--"down to the hem. And I bought---"
"Jess." Her name was a strangled whisper.
"--slippers to match," she continued." Black mules with--"
"Jess." In one furious flurry of motion he threw down the reins and hauled her into his lap.
”
”
Loretta Chase (Lord of Scoundrels (Scoundrels, #3))
“
This is the one thing I hope: that she never stopped. I hope when her body couldn’t run any farther she left it behind like everything else that tried to hold her down, she floored the pedal and she went like wildfire, streamed down night freeways with both hands off the wheel and her head back screaming to the sky like a lynx, white lines and green lights whipping away into the dark, her tires inches off the ground and freedom crashing up her spine. I hope every second she could have had came flooding through that cottage like speed wind: ribbons and sea spray, a wedding ring and Chad’s mother crying, sun-wrinkles and gallops through wild red brush, a baby’s first tooth and its shoulder blades like tiny wings in Amsterdam Toronto Dubai; hawthorn flowers spinning through summer air, Daniel’s hair turning gray under high ceilings and candle flames and the sweet cadences of Abby’s singing. Time works so hard for us, Daniel told me once. I hope those last few minutes worked like hell for her. I hope in that half hour she lived all her million lives.
”
”
Tana French (The Likeness (Dublin Murder Squad, #2))
“
Will looked at his sister. “And you don’t care about being a Shadowhunter. How is this: I shall write a letter and give it to you if you promise to deliver it home yourself — and not to return.”
Cecily recoiled; she had many memories of shouting matches with Will, of the china dolls she had owned that he had broken by dropping them out an attic window; but there was also kindness in her memories: the brother who had bandaged up a cut knee, or retied her hair ribbons when they came loose. That kindness was absent from the Will who stood before her now. Her mother had used to cry for the first year or two after Will went; she had said, in Welsh, holding Cecily to her, that they — the Shadowhunters — would “take all the love out of him.” A cold, unloving people, she had told Cecily, who had forbidden her marriage to her husband. What could he want with them, her Will, her little one?
“I will not go,” Cecily said, staring her brother down. “And if you insist that I must, I will — I will —”
The door of the attic slid open and Jem stood silhouetted in the doorway…
”
”
Cassandra Clare (Clockwork Princess (The Infernal Devices, #3))
“
That evening, as I watched the sunset’s pinwheels of apricot and mauve slowly explode into red ribbons, I thought: The sensory misers will inherit the earth, but first they will make it not worth living on. When you consider something like death, after which (there being no news flash to the contrary) we may well go out like a candle flame, then it probably doesn’t matter if we try too hard, are awkward sometimes, care for one another too deeply, are excessively curious about nature, are too open to experience, enjoy a nonstop expense of the senses in an effort to know life intimately and lovingly. It probably doesn’t matter if, while trying to be modest and eager watchers of life’s many spectacles, we sometimes look clumsy or get dirty or ask stupid questions or reveal our ignorance or say the wrong thing or light up with wonder like the children we all are. It probably doesn’t matter if a passerby sees us dipping a finger into the moist pouches of dozens of lady’s slippers to find out what bugs tend to fall into them, and thinks us a bit eccentric. Or a neighbor, fetching her mail, sees us standing in the cold with our own letters in one hand and a seismically red autumn leaf in the other its color hitting our sense like a blow from a stun gun, as we stand with a huge grin, too paralyzed by the intricately veined gaudiness of the leaf to move.
”
”
Diane Ackerman (A Natural History of the Senses)
“
She’d heard my theory on funnel cake and celery stalker men before. Most men were either like funnel cake: delicious and interesting, but who at the end of the day just aren’t good for the heart or complexion. Or they were celery: a sensible, healthy choice that didn’t really bring much to the table but an occasional crunch. If you OD on celery, you end up bingeing on cake behind closed doors.
Funnel cake, while warm and delicious, is difficult to make. But you go there because you long for it like the double-twist stomach-dropping roller coaster as soon as you arrive at the amusement park. Wet ribbons of batter crackle and pop until golden and crisp, yielding in the center. The steamy swirls of tender yellow dough absorb confectioners’ sugar like pores. When the luxurious fat melts on your tongue, you exhale. You’ve got sticky batter, dribbling down spouts, leaving rings on your clean countertops, splattering oil growing darker and beginning to smoke. Layers of paper towels and oil-draining weapons clutter your space. With funnel cake, you’ve got steps to follow. Procedures. Rules.
No one makes rules about celery. It’s always around for the snacking. You choose it when you’re dieting or trying not to consume too many wings over football. Come to think of it, you don’t even bother eating it when you diet. Instead it’s a conduit for blue cheese. You use it to make stocks and stuffing. It becomes filler, pantry almost.
”
”
Stephanie Klein (Straight Up and Dirty)
“
Pink Balloons
My name is Olivia King
I am five years old
My mother bought me a balloon. I remember the day she walked through the front door with it. The curly hot pink ribbon
trickling
down her arm,
wrapped
around her
wrist
. She was
smiling
at me as she
untied
the ribbon and wrapped it around my hand.
"Here Livie, I bought this for you."
She called me Livie.
I was so
happy
. I'd
never
had a
balloon
before. I mean, I always saw balloon wrapped around
other
kids wrist in the parking lot of
Wal-Mart
, but I never
dreamed
I would have my very
own.
My
very own
pink balloon.
I was
excited!
So
ecstatic!
So
thrilled!
i couldn't
believe
my mother bought me something! She'd
never
bought me
anything
before! I played with it for
hours
. It was full of
helium
and it
danced
and
swayed
and
floated
as I
drug
it around from
room
to
room
with me, thinking of places to take it. Thinking of places the balloon had
never
been before. I took it in the
bathroom
, the
closet
, the
laundry room
, the
kitchen
, the
living room
. I wanted my new best friend to see
everything
I saw! I took it to my mother's
bedroom!
My mothers
Bedroom?
Where I wasn't supposed to be?
With my pink
balloon...
I
covered
my ears as she
screamed
at me,
wiping
the
evidence
off her
nose!
She
slapped
me across the face as she told me how
bad
I was! How much I
misbehaved!
How I never
listened!
She
shoved
me into the hallways and
slammed
the door, locking my pink balloon inside with her. I wanted him
back!
He was
my
best friend!
Not her!
The pink ribbon was
still
tied around my
wrist
so I
pulled
and
pulled
, trying to get my new best friend
away
from her.
And
it
popped.
My name is Eddie.
I'm seventeen years old.
My birthday is next week. I'll be big One-Eight. My foster dad is buying me these boots I've been wanting. I'm sure my friends will take me out to eat. My boyfriend will buy me a gift, maybe even take me to a movie. I'll even get a nice little card from my foster care worker, wishing me a happy eighteenth birthday, informing me I've aged out of the system.
I'll have a good time. I know I will.
But there's
one
thing I know
for
sure
I better not get any
shitty ass pink balloons!
”
”
Colleen Hoover (Slammed (Slammed, #1))
“
She wanted to touch him, to throw her arms around him — but something held her back. Maybe it was the fear that her arms would pass right through him, that she would have come all this way only to find a ghost after all.
As though he’d been able to read her thoughts, he slowly angled toward her. He raised his hands and held his palms out to her. Isobel lifted her own hands to mirror his. He pressed their palms together, his fingers folding down to lace through hers. She felt a rush of warmth course through her, a relief as pure and sweet as spring rain.
He was real. This was real. She had found him. She could touch him. She could feel him. Finally they were together. Finally, finally, they could forget this wasted world and go home.
"I knew it wasn’t true," she whispered. "I knew you wouldn’t stop believing." He drew her close.
Leaning into him, she felt him press his lips to her forehead in a kiss. As he spoke, the cool metal of his lip ring grazed her skin, causing a shudder to ripple through her.
"You..." His voice, low and breathy, reverberated through her, down to the thin soles of her slippers. "You think you’re different," he said. She felt his hands tighten around hers, gripping hard, too hard.
A streak of violet lightning split the sky, striking close behind them.
The house, Isobel thought. It had been struck. She could hear it cracking apart. She looked for only a brief moment, long enough to watch it split open.
"But you’re not," Varen said, calling her attention back to him. Isobel winced, her own hands surrendering under the suddenly crushing pressure of his hold. A face she did not recognize stared down at her, one twisted with anger — with hate.
"You," he scarcely more than breathed, "are just like every. Body. Else."
He moved so fast. Before she could register his words or the fact that she had once spoken them to him herself, he jerked her to one side. Isobel felt her feet part from the rocks. Weightlessness took hold of her as she swung out and over the ledge of the cliff.
As he let her go.
The wind whistled its high and lonely song in her ears. She fell away into the oblivion of the storm until she could no longer see the cliff — could no longer see him.
Only the slip of the pink ribbon as it unraveled from her wrist, floating up and away from her and out of sight forever.
”
”
Kelly Creagh (Enshadowed (Nevermore, #2))
“
[I] threw open the door to find Rob sitting on the low stool in front of my bookcase, surrounded by cardboard boxes. He was sealing the last one up with tape and string. There were eight boxes - eight boxes of my books bound up and ready for the basement!
"He looked up and said, 'Hello, darling. Don't mind the mess, the caretaker said he'd help me carry these down to the basement.' He nodded towards my bookshelves and said, 'Don't they look wonderful?'
"Well, there were no words! I was too appalled to speak. Sidney, every single shelf - where my books had stood - was filled with athletic trophies: silver cups, gold cups, blue rosettes, red ribbons. There were awards for every game that could possibly be played with a wooden object: cricket bats, squash racquets, tennis racquets, oars, golf clubs, ping-pong bats, bows and arrows, snooker cues, lacrosse sticks, hockey sticks and polo mallets. There were statues for everything a man could jump over, either by himself or on a horse. Next came the framed certificates - for shooting the most birds on such and such a date, for First Place in running races, for Last Man Standing in some filthy tug of war against Scotland.
"All I could do was scream, 'How dare you! What have you DONE?! Put my books back!'
"Well, that's how it started. Eventually, I said something to the effect that I could never marry a man whose idea of bliss was to strike out at little balls and little birds. Rob countered with remarks about damned bluestockings and shrews. And it all degenerated from there - the only thought we probably had in common was, What the hell have we talked about for the last four months? What, indeed? He huffed and puffed and snorted and left. And I unpacked my books.
”
”
Annie Barrows (The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society)