Saga Hazel Quotes

My name is Hazel. I started out as an idea, but I ended up something more. Not much more, to be honest. It's not like I grow up to become some great war hero or any sort of all important savior... but thanks to these two, at least I get to grow old. Not everybody does.

Admit it, you're probably a very different person at work than you are at home. Everyone needs to be someone else sometimes.

Together, my parents had learned to be much more than "the sum of their parts", whatever that means. Separately, they were kind of just a mess.

I was pretty good at picking up new languages when I was little, but it's not like I had superpowers or anything. Kids just have an easier time with words.

So what? He’s good to you and Hazel now, isn’t he? Who cares if he’s got history with some other broad?

Marko: No matter what mistakes you've see your daddy make, violence---magical or otherwise---is never acceptable. Petrichor: Nonsense, Marko. Violence is often essential: in self-defense, the arts foreplay... Hazel: I want to four-play!

If a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, then a family is more like a rope. We're lots of fragile little strands, and we survive by becoming hopelessly intertwined with each other. The happiest families I ever met were all frayed...but they were also tighter than a hangmen's noose. - Hazel, Saga # 40

You know the story.” The Nalnom rotated his hand in the air as if she should recall it. “I don’t. I’ve never heard the story.” Joshlon summarized it for her. “Prometheus was turned into a dragon by his angry lover, Naradite. She refused to turn him back into his manly form. He became the first fire-breathing dragon—Naga the Terrible.” Eena dropped her lower jaw. “What?” “Naradite turned Prometheus into a dragon,” Joshlon repeated. “Naga.” “And Prometheus is Edgar’s father?” She was sure the surrounding stares were the result of her virtually shouting out the question. Joshlon answered with some hesitance in his voice. “I don’t know who Edgar is, but Edgarmetheus was supposedly the son of Prometheus, the illegitimate child of him and his lover, Naradite.” “Oh. My. Gosh!” Eena exclaimed. “Naga is Edgar’s father!” Joshlon’s lip curled. He didn’t look like he was following her emotional outburst. “Sha Eena, are you trying to tell me that this is all for real? And Naga is the undefeatable enemy you’re fighting?” Her hazel eyes focused on him instantly. “Oh, no, no, not Naga! Out of all the immortals, he’s the nice one!” Joshlon looked confused. “Naga the Terrible is the nice one?” “Yes,” Eena nodded assuredly. “Edgar is the…” She halted mid-sentence. Joshlon had stopped moving. In fact, all the surrounding Nalnoms were frozen in place, skeptical expressions stuck on their faces. Her eyes fell closed when she heard the disgruntled voice behind her. “I’m the what?” he grumbled lowly. “I’d really love to hear the end of that sentence, Amora.

The first thing that came into my mind when I saw her lounging at the front of the class was the look in her catlike hazel eyes. It was the half-lidded, tight-smirked look of a woman scorned. Her glossy auburn hair was coiled in an artful French twist. Under her half-slouched lab coat, her dress was glittery black, bare-shouldered and shone in the fluorescent light like it was covered in beetles. The moment I beheld her, I knew: whoever this woman was, she was utterly and completely heartless

bad manners are not attractive.

Since we had no uniforms, many of us had picked red leaves from sumac bushes and pinned them to our clothes to show we were a part of the Kansas militia. Unable to sleep, I rose

As I left his office he continued his telephone conversation, and as Amanda had declared, she was in fact waiting for me. “So, Amanda, what is it now? Who is it you want to fix me up with today?” “Well actually, I don’t have any new candidates in my mind just yet. I actually need some decorating advice.   I want to tackle my living room den. It has been about three years since it has had a lift. It needs a new theme, and I would like your opinion of what direction I should consider . . . modern contemporary or vintage?” “Well, what does your husband think, or does he have a vote?” “Well, on paper, yes, but between us women . . . absolutely not.

. Then I smile and in haste . . . I can't help it! I worship your silhouette. How I gaze and can't help but stare. I place my hands in your red hair. It is wonderful knowing you have found my undying love. But now I'll end this and say goodnight and await the day to be with you through the night and wake with you in my arms underneath the morning light.

As the episode of Scandal ended, I sat up in my bed and thought, I have to read it again. It was driving me crazy, so I got out of bed and skipped down stairs of my comfy loft on the east side of Paradise Hills. Once downstairs I slipped the letter out of the side closure of my briefcase. I walked back to my bedroom, and I began reading the note left for me.