Stunning And Brave Quotes

I am brave," Will said... "Yes, you are," Magnus said, and kissed him. It wasn't the most dramatic kiss, but Will failed his free arm as if a bee had landed on him; Magnus had to hope Camille would assume this was passion. When they broke apart, Will looked stunned. So did Camille, for that matter. ... Will swung sideways...He dashed across the room, retrieved it, and tucked it into Magnus's waistcoat pocket. Then, with a wink at Camille that, Magnus thought, God alone knew how she would interpret, he sauntered out of the room.

Hua Cheng quietly sighed, extended his arms, and once again folded him into his embrace. "Your Highness, I've always watched you." This was the second time he had said this, but his voice was softer than before. Xie Lian clutched the red robes at his chest, asking, his mind blank, "I know, I know. But... what should I do now?" Hua Cheng's long and slender fingers gently combed through Xie Lian's mussed hair. "Then, Your Highness, do you know why I refuse to leave this world?" Xie Lian couldn't understand why Hua Cheng could still be so calm at a time like this, he was panicking so hard he was trembling. But, while feeling lost, he still simple-mindedly asked, "Why?" Hua Cheng replied quietly, "Because I have a beloved who is still in this world." Hearing this, Xie Lian was slightly stunned. He seemed to have heard this somewhere before. Hua Cheng continued, "My beloved is a brave, noble, and gracious special someone. He's saved my life; I've looked up to him ever since I was young. But, I wanted to catch up to him more, and become and even stronger person for him. Although he might not remember me well. We never really talked. I want to protect him." He gazed at Xie Lian. "If your dream is to save the common people, then my dream is only you." "..." Relying on his memory, Xie Lian asked with a trembling voice, "But... you won't... be able to rest in peace... like this...?" Hua Cheng answered, "I pray to never rest in peace.

Anything that came before is nothing. This is all that matters. This brave, stunning girl in my arms is all I will ever need.

Gwen smiles. “Do you know what part of ‘If—’ is actually relevant right now? To this moment? ‘If you can make one heap of all your winnings / And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, / And lose, and start again at your beginnings / And never breathe a word about your loss.’ ” She must be messing with me. Surely she knows she’s just described my greatest fear. But no, I can tell from the look on her face that she sincerely thinks that I’m that brave, that I am doing this because I am okay with losing big. Not because I am terrified of losing at all. And it stuns me silent, for a moment: just how vast the gap is between who I am and how people see me.

I know you don’t like hearing this,” I heard him say, “and I know I promised not to tell you, but you are pretty, Killer. You’re pretty, beautiful, stunning, mesmerizing.” He paused. “But that’s not all you are. You’re everything Claire said and more. Clever, funny, caring, lively, strong, brave—all of it. You are all of it.” He kissed the top of my head. “And I do know how much you adore me,” he whispered. “I just wish it was as much as I adore you.

Mark slapped him, and Trey was stunned into silence. “Hey!” Mark said. “That really does work on hysterical people. Always wanted to try that.

Together they crawled through the attic space, looking for the source of a roof leak they’d discovered in the last bathroom. Jax was out in front, braving the spiderwebs. Maddie was behind him, working really hard at not looking at his butt. And failing spectacularly. So when he unexpectedly twisted around, holding out his hand for the clipboard she was now holding, he caught her staring at him. “I, um—You have a streak of dirt,” she said. “A streak of dirt.” Yes.” She pointed to his left perfectly muscled butt cheek. “There.” He was quiet for a single, stunned beat. She couldn’t blame him, given that they were both covered in dirt from the filthy attic. “Thanks,” he finally said. “It’s important to know where the dirt streaks are.” “It is,” she agreed, nodding like a bobble head. “Probably you should stain-stick it right away. I have some in my purse.” “Are you offering to rub it on my ass?

Me?" I said, stunned. "How do I have leverage?" Castle sighed. "You certainly are brave for your age, Ms. Ferrars, but I'm sorry to see your youth so inextricably tied to inexperience. I will try to put it plainly: you have superhuman strength, nearly invincible skin, a letal touch, only seventeen years to your name, and you have single-handedly felled the despot of this nation. And yet you doubt that you might be capable of intimidating the world?" I cringed. "Old habits, Castle," I said quietly. "Bad habits. You're right, of course. Of course you're right.

But…” Hazel gripped his shoulders and stared at him in amazement. “Frank, what happened to you?” “To me?” He stood, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t…” He looked down and realized what she meant. Triptolemus hadn’t gotten shorter. Frank was taller. His gut had shrunk. His chest seemed bulkier. Frank had had growth spurts before. Once he’d woken up two centimeters taller than when he’d gone to sleep. But this was nuts. It was as if some of the dragon and lion had stayed with him when he’d turned back to human. “Uh…I don’t…Maybe I can fix it.” Hazel laughed with delight. “Why? You look amazing!” “I—I do?” “I mean, you were handsome before! But you look older, and taller, and so distinguished—” Triptolemus heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yes, obviously some sort of blessing from Mars. Congratulations, blah, blah, blah. Now, if we’re done here…?” Frank glared at him. “We’re not done. Heal Nico.” The farm god rolled his eyes. He pointed at the corn plant, and BAM! Nico di Angelo appeared in an explosion of corn silk. Nico looked around in a panic. “I—I had the weirdest nightmare about popcorn.” He frowned at Frank. “Why are you taller?” “Everything’s fine,” Frank promised. “Triptolemus was about to tell us how to survive the House of Hades. Weren’t you, Trip?” The farm god raised his eyes to the ceiling, like, Why me, Demeter? “Fine,” Trip said. “When you arrive at Epirus, you will be offered a chalice to drink from.” “Offered by whom?” Nico asked. “Doesn’t matter,” Trip snapped. “Just know that it is filled with deadly poison.” Hazel shuddered. “So you’re saying that we shouldn’t drink it.” “No!” Trip said. “You must drink it, or you’ll never be able to make it through the temple. The poison connects you to the world of the dead, lets you pass into the lower levels. The secret to surviving is”—his eyes twinkled—“barley.” Frank stared at him. “Barley.” “In the front room, take some of my special barley. Make it into little cakes. Eat these before you step into the House of Hades. The barley will absorb the worst of the poison, so it will affect you, but not kill you.” “That’s it?” Nico demanded. “Hecate sent us halfway across Italy so you could tell us to eat barley?” “Good luck!” Triptolemus sprinted across the room and hopped in his chariot. “And, Frank Zhang, I forgive you! You’ve got spunk. If you ever change your mind, my offer is open. I’d love to see you get a degree in farming!” “Yeah,” Frank muttered. “Thanks.” The god pulled a lever on his chariot. The snake-wheels turned. The wings flapped. At the back of the room, the garage doors rolled open. “Oh, to be mobile again!” Trip cried. “So many ignorant lands in need of my knowledge. I will teach them the glories of tilling, irrigation, fertilizing!” The chariot lifted off and zipped out of the house, Triptolemus shouting to the sky, “Away, my serpents! Away!” “That,” Hazel said, “was very strange.” “The glories of fertilizing.” Nico brushed some corn silk off his shoulder. “Can we get out of here now?” Hazel put her hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Are you okay, really? You bartered for our lives. What did Triptolemus make you do?” Frank tried to hold it together. He scolded himself for feeling so weak. He could face an army of monsters, but as soon as Hazel showed him kindness, he wanted to break down and cry. “Those cow monsters…the katoblepones that poisoned you…I had to destroy them.” “That was brave,” Nico said. “There must have been, what, six or seven left in that herd.” “No.” Frank cleared his throat. “All of them. I killed all of them in the city.” Nico and Hazel stared at him in stunned silence. Frank

No.” Mom placed her hand on my knee. “We don’t do that. We don’t put ourselves down.” She combed my hair behind my ear and placed her hands on my cheeks. “Not only are you beautiful on the outside, Eleanor Rose, you are stunning on the inside. You are creative. You have the best laugh I’ve ever heard. You are kind, giving, and brave. Don’t ever think you aren’t good enough based on what the magazines define as beauty. You. Are. Beautiful.

Gwen smiles. “Do you know what part of ‘If—’ is actually relevant right now? To this moment? ‘If you can make one heap of all your winnings / And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, / And lose, and start again at your beginnings / And never breathe a word about your loss.’ ” She must be messing with me. Surely she knows she’s just described my greatest fear. But no, I can tell from the look on her face that she sincerely thinks that I’m that brave, that I am doing this because I am okay with losing big. Not because I am terrified of losing at all. And it stuns me silent, for a moment: just how vast the gap is between who I am and how people see me. I am so much smaller than the Carrie Soto in Gwen’s head.

But put one foot in front of the other enough times, stay the course long enough to actually tunnel into the wilderness, and you’ll be shocked how many people already live out there—thriving, dancing, creating, celebrating, belonging. It is not a barren wasteland. It is not unprotected territory. It is not void of human flourishing. The wilderness is where all the creatives and prophets and system-buckers and risk-takers have always lived, and it is stunningly vibrant. The walk out there is hard, but the authenticity out there is life.

Christ, he was a cipher. For the first time, he worried if he could be worthy enough for Mariketa. Did he even deserve her? Yes, she was a witch, but she was also stunningly beautiful and brave and clever. “I like football, too,” he finally said. “You’ve already told me, so that doesn’t count.” “I love the color of your eyes.” She tucked a curl behind her pointed ear, sliding him the bewitching smile that made his heart punch the insides of his chest. “What’s your favorite place to visit?” He absently answered, “Wherever you are.” “Bowen, five things about you can’t all be about me.” But you’re the only good thing that I’ve got. “Why no’?

Wait.” Roane moved toward me, his expression eager. “Evie, I don’t make a habit of asking tourists out but I can’t help myself. You’re brave, you love animals. You’re stunning. I’m a mere mortal.” His chuckle had a slightly disbelieving tone to it, like he couldn’t understand himself in that moment. “So please have a drink with me tonight.

Chelsea, of course, was the first one to speak up. “Okay, am I the only one who noticed how gi-mungous Mimi Nichols’s dress makes her ass look? Of course, you can barely notice it since her freakishly giant boobs are practically hanging out the top of it.” Chelsea glanced at Jules and grinned. “No offense, of course,” she offered, raising her eyebrows at Jules’s chest. Claire giggled, and Jules wrinkled up her face in disgust at Chelsea’s teasing barb. “You’re just jealous,” she retorted, eyeing Chelsea’s chest in return. “Touche, Jules. Touche!” Chelsea admitted. Claire wanted so badly to join in on the catty conversation, but she was terrible at finding other people’s flaws . . . at least intentionally. Still, she gave it her best shot. “And what about Jennifer Cummings?” she asked accusingly, trying to mimic one of Chelsea’s cutting looks. They looked around at one another, wondering what it was that they weren’t getting. Chelsea was the only one brave enough to ask, “What about her, Claire?” “She does not even look kind of cute!” Claire stated, her face a mask of mock horror. They all stared at her, not sure what to say. And then once again, of course, it was Chelsea who broke the stunned silence. “I swear, Claire-bear, I am going to call your mom and tell her you need to start riding the short bus. You really need to start practicing your bitchy comments. What are you gonna do when we’re not here to get your back?” Claire rolled her eyes, too oblivious to be insulted, which was why she was the perfect friends for Chelsea, who was too insulting to be obvious. “Geez, Chels, I don’t even ride the bus.” Jules couldn’t help herself; despite her best efforts to hold on to her detached cool, she started laughing. And pretty soon they were all laughing, even Claire, who still didn’t realize what they were laughing at. “You guys are so mean!” Violet charged accusingly. “Can’t you just have fun and stop picking everyone part?” Chelsea looked disgusted. “You’ve gone soft, haven’t you? Jay has made you soft!” Violet rolled her eyes, smiling despite her best efforts. “Whatever. Everyone’s soft compared to you.” “Ouch!” Chelsea pretended to be wounded. But again, she just couldn’t pull it off.

A loud bang brought Harry back to where he stood: Disoriented, he raised his wand, but the witch before him was already falling forward; she hit the ground so hard that the glass in the bookcases tinkled. “I’ve never Stunned anyone except in our D.A. lessons,” said Luna, sounding mildly interested. “That was noisier than I thought it would be.” And sure enough, the ceiling had begun to tremble. Scurrying, echoing footsteps were growing louder from behind the door leading to the dormitories: Luna’s spell had woken Ravenclaws sleeping above. “Luna, where are you? I need to get under the Cloak!” Luna’s feet appeared out of nowhere; he hurried to her side and she let the Cloak fall back over them as the door opened and a stream of Ravenclaws, all in their nightclothes, flooded into the common room. There were gasps and cries of surprise as they saw Alecto lying there unconscious. Slowly they shuffled in around her, a savage beast that might wake at any moment and attack them. Then one brave little first-year darted up to her and prodded her backside with his big toe. “I think she might be dead!” he shouted with delight. “Oh, look,” whispered Luna happily, as the Ravenclaws crowded in around Alecto. “They’re pleased!

Zane helped Maya down from her horse, then reached for Phoebe. He was stunned when he felt her cold, soaked clothes. “Run a bath,” he yelled to the housekeeper. He turned back to Phoebe. “Can you feel your toes?” “No, and I don’t want to. They’re going to hurt.” Maya came over and wrapped an arm around her. “Don’t sweat it, Zane. I’ll make sure she gets warmed up. See what happens when you cross a river. When I get back to the city, I’m not leaving my house for at least six weeks. And I’m going to spend all my time ordering things delivered. There will be no roughing it for me.” Phoebe shivered as she walked toward the house. “I liked it. It was all very exciting. Well, not the river, but the rest of it. Wasn’t Manny brave? And he saved my life. I need to get him a gift. What do you think he’d like?” “His balls back.

No one will think anything, Alma. It’s an empty room, remember – you said so yourself.’ I began to sit cross-legged at his feet so as to listen to his operatic flourishes. Soon I was running to meet him when he came home, then crawling up onto his lap so I could see the words on the page. I still didn’t say much, and I was mute with all strangers and continued to hide my face in my grandmother’s skirts. We were sat this way one afternoon when there was a tap at the window that startled us both. We looked, but there was nothing there. It sounded like something had been thrown at it, so my grandfather told me to stay inside while he went out to investigate. When he came back, he was carrying a tiny bird in his hands. ‘It’s a little dunnock, Susannah. He must have got himself confused, or scared, chased by a sparrowhawk maybe, and flown into the glass. He’s only stunned himself. We’ll find him a box and keep him warm, see if he comes to.’ The bird looked dead to me, but my grandfather lined an old box with straw, placed the tiny bird inside and closed the lid. ‘We need to remove him from all the terrors of the world for a while, let his little body recover. You know, it’s a very good thing for an animal to hide if he’s injured or in danger. All the clever animals do it. He crawls into the tiniest space he can find and makes his world very small. It’s a natural thing, when you’re very scared, to make your world very small indeed. The trick is to understand when the danger is gone, to be very brave and let the world be big again, or else there may as well be no world at all.

We were not created to be average or mediocre. We have been summoned by God and empowered by His Spirit to step out of the crowd and be counted among the brave. We must refuse to hide among the riskless, mindless, zombielike flock. We must put on the mind of Christ and expose the world to the supernatural wisdom of the ages—wisdom that stuns the intelligent, silences the critics and transforms our cities and nations. Jesus said that we are to make disciples of all nations and teach them the ways of the Kingdom.

Until then life had not been exactly easy, but I had hurdled one problem after another without breaking my stride. Now, with the impact of a person running in the dark, I had crashed into a wall. The violence had thrown me back and left me stunned and helpless.

What are we talking about in 2001? A Tuesday morning with a crystalline sky. American Airlines Flight 11 from Boston to Los Angeles crashes into the North Tower of the World Trade Center at 8:46 a.m. United Airlines Flight 175, also from Boston to Los Angeles, crashes into the South Tower at 9:03. American Airlines Flight 77 from Washington Dulles to Los Angeles hits the Pentagon at 9:37 a.m. And at 10:03 a.m., United Flight 93 from Newark to San Francisco crashes in a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania. There are 2,996 fatalities. The country is stunned and grief-stricken. We have been attacked on our own soil for the first time since the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in December 1941. A man in a navy-blue summer-weight suit launches himself from a 103rd-floor window. An El Salvadoran line chef running late for his prep shift at Windows on the World watches the sky turn to fire and the top of the building—six floors beneath the kitchen where he works—explode. Cantor Fitzgerald. President Bush in a bunker. The pregnant widow of a brave man who says, “Let’s roll.” The plane that went down in Pennsylvania was headed for the Capitol Building. The world says, America was attacked. America says, New York was attacked. New York says, Downtown was attacked. There’s a televised benefit concert, America: A Tribute to Heroes. The Goo Goo Dolls and Limp Bizkit sing “Wish You Were Here.” Voicemail messages from the dead. First responders running up the stairs while civilians run down. Flyers plastered across Manhattan: MISSING. The date—chosen by the terrorists because of the bluebird weather—has an eerie significance: 9/11. Though we will all come to call it Nine Eleven

If only we could catch even the barest glimpse of our true capacity we would be stunned at the potential that lay there. Then the first monumental question would become, are we daring enough to unearth it; with the second being, are we brave enough to unleash it?

ON THE EVENING OF THE DAY the World Trade Center was destroyed by terrorists, a service was hastily improvised in one of the largest New York churches, where crowds of both believers and nonbelievers came together in search of whatever it is people search for at such times—some word of reassurance, some glimmer of hope. "At times like these," the speaker said, "God is useless. When I first heard of it, it struck me as appalling, and then it struck me as very brave, and finally it struck me as true. When horrors happen we can't use God to make them unhappen any more than we can use a flood of light to put out a fire or Psalm 23 to find our way home in the dark. All we can do is to draw close to God and to each other as best we can, the way those stunned New Yorkers did, and to hope that, although God may well be useless when all hell breaks loose, there is nothing that happens, not even hell, where God is not present with us and for us.

The wilderness is where all the creatives and prophets and system-buckers and risk-takers have always lived, and it is stunningly vibrant. The walk out there is hard, but the authenticity out there is life.

THIS IS NOT THE END I HEARD A STORY once about a one-year-old boy who fell down a flight of stairs, shattering his back in the process. He spent his entire childhood and his teenage years in and out of the hospital. To many people, his story was one of heartbreaking tragedy. But when he was interviewed one day, the boy said something that stunned people. “God is fair,” he said. “How old are you?” asked the man who was interviewing him. “Seventeen.” “And how many years have you spent in the hospital?” “Thirteen.” “Do you think that is fair?” said the interviewer. The boy paused and smiled. “God has got all of eternity to make it up to me.” This brave young man saw beyond his current suffering. Suffering is not part of God’s original created order. There was no suffering when the world began, and there will be no suffering when God creates a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21:3–4). “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death” or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. (v. 4) Understanding this gives us the most amazing perspective on our life and any hardships we encounter today. Understanding where we’re going helps us persevere when times are tough. This is not the end, so hold tight, and all will be renewed. Trust the long game.

If I'm going down-' 'You'll go down fighting,' he finished for me. I nodded. 'Like I said, you're very brave.' 'I don't think it's bravery.' I returned to staring at my hands. 'I think it's... fear.' 'Fear and bravery are often one and the same. It either makes you a warrior or a coward. The only difference is the person it resides inside.' My gaze lifted to him in stunned silence. It took me a moment to formulate a response. 'You sound so many years older than what you appear.' 'Only half of the time,' he said. 'You saved lives tonight, Princess.' I ignored the nickname. 'But many died.

I know you don't like hearing this,' I heard him say, 'and I know I promised not to tell you, but you are pretty, Killer. You're pretty beautiful, stunning, mesmerizing.' He paused. 'But that's not all you are. You're everything Claire said and more. Clever, funny, caring, lively, strong, brave---all of it. You are all of it.' He kissed the top of my head. 'And I do know how much you adore me,' he whispered. 'I just wish it was as much as I adore you.

Yes, that's just it.’ The young man nodded. ‘If one's different, one's bound to be lonely.

I’m startled out of my musings when Hannah stops at a ware checkout counter and sends me an excited look. “Thanks for being willing to brave this bird here and apply. You’re a hero.” She starts shuffling through papers, unaware of my reaction to her declaration. My chest seizes. Then it bows out as I inhale the world. I’M MY MATE’S HERO? I have to catch myself before I raise my fists in stunned victory. I’m not certain I’ve ever managed to be a hero before. It makes my chest feel as if it could puff up by an increment. “Ah, I…,” I manage. “Thank you.” Mick scoffs in derision. My wings hunch, disquieted and distressed at his scorn.

From the moment I met you, Yelena, I was stunned. You’re a fighter. You’re ferocious, and proud, and brilliant, and I love that about you. You’re brave.” I can feel tears pricking at my eyes. He’s wrong. I’m not brave. If I were brave, I would tell him the truth.

Another aspect of concentration which intrigues me was a batsman’s ability to actually find a gap by remembering the field settings and then playing the ball through the fielders. A ball that was thrown at him at 150 kmph! The commentators always mention how the batsmen found beautiful gaps and that irritated the hell out of me because as a mediocre cricketer I never reached a stage in my batting where I could actually place the ball in a certain direction. So I once gathered the courage to ask Ricky Ponting if batsmen really found the gaps or was it merely a matter of luck. I knew it was a brave question but what I did not expect was a life philosophy that was one of the most impactful one I have heard in a long time. He said, “Ya mate, batting is an an instinct you hone over years of practice and that enables you to reach a level of expertise where you see the field placements in your mind. A good batsman imprints the fielders in the sub-conscious, but an excellent batsman imprints the gaps. There was a time I used to do the former and hit to the fielders but the moment I started to do the latter I found the gaps.” I was stunned by this analogy. When I mentioned this philosophy to my friend Rajiv Bajaj, the MD of Bajaj Auto he immediately added his business perspective to the same and said, “Exactly! In business, if you focus on the competitors you’ll start behaving like them. But if you focus on the gaps in the market you’ll become a champion company.

You are like a panther. You are strong, brave, resolute, graceful and stunningly beautiful, yet cat-like cautious and distrustful.

Fuck, she’s stunning. More than that, she’s magnificent. She’s brave and smart. Cunning and quick. She’s more beautiful inside than out, and I want to peel all her layers back. I want to know her in her bones, feel her every thought or emotion. I’m desperate to know every curve and line of her body and how every inch of her tastes. I want her, and it’s dangerous.