“
...so i will greet you
in a way
all loved things
are meant to be greeted
with a tear in my heart
and a poem in my eye.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
i'm glad to be alive
in a world where
his gently awakening eyes
nourish the morning sun.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
Dorian looked at the carpet, at all the threads woven together. 'What do I do now?' They were gone: the woman he'd loved--and the man he hated. He met her stare. No calculation, no coldness, no pity in those turquoise eyes. Just unflinching honesty, as there had been from the very start with her. 'What do I do?'
She had to swallow before she said. 'You light up the darkness.
”
”
Sarah J. Maas (Queen of Shadows (Throne of Glass, #4))
“
Our love will blend together like turquoise is blue and green. There’s no depression or envy when both blur into one.
”
”
Jarod Kintz (This Book is Not for Sale)
“
Give me
a moon-blanket night
to keep me warm
a long-gone smile
to comfort me
a pair of rain-blue eyes
to haunt me
a simple soul
...to love me.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
and the afterglow...
of your gaze...is the only
sweater that I need.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
There was a scuffling and a great thump: someone else had clambered out of the tunnel, overbalanced slightly and fallen. He pulled himself up on the nearest chair, looked around through lopsided horn - rimmed glasses and said, 'Am I too late? Has it started? I only just found out, so I - I -'
Percy spluttered into silence. Evidently he had not expected to run into most of his family. There was a long moment of astonishment, broken by Fleur turning to Lupin and saying, in a wildly transparent attempt to break the tension, 'So - 'ow eez leetle Teddy?'
Lupin blinked at her, startled. The silence between the Weasleys seemed to be solidifying, like ice.
'I - oh yes - he's fine!' Lupin said loudly. 'Yes, Tonks is with him - at her mother's.'
Percy and the other Weasleys were still staring at one another, frozen.
'Here, I've got a picture!' Lupin shouted, pulling a photograph from inside his jacket and showing it to Fleur and Harry, who saw a tiny baby with a tuff of bright turquoise hair, waving fat fists at the camera.
'I was a fool!' Percy roared, so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph 'I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a - a -'
'Ministry - loving, family - disowning, power - hungry moron,' said Fred.
Percy swallowed.
'Yes I was!
”
”
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7))
“
The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love’s primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it. To have seen such beautiful things. To find oneself placed in their midst. Choiceless. I returned there yesterday and stood again upon the mountain.
”
”
Maggie Nelson (Bluets)
“
i want to
stay curled and cosied
and chocolated....forever
in my mother’s arms.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
Love, be
mystical
as the flickering
blue flame
of night
as the fully-awoken
moon
beneath cobwebs
of passing clouds
amidst chanting
high-tides
fuzzy,
as my blanket
big enough
to illuminate a hundred
thousand billion galaxies
and just small enough to fit
into my embrace.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
I am filled time and again
with a heart-aching wonder
when I think
of the fire
and frost of memories
of the everlastingness
of love
the solace
of family
and the power
of prayer.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
let my heart always be
like it is...this very moment
ready to explode...with love
a violent rainstorm...
with no stream
no ocean vast enough
to flow into.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
Love may make you feel blue, love may make you feel green, and sometimes love may even make you feel turquoise or teal. Depression and envy get all the pretty shades of description, and I love that, but in a pink/purple kind of way.
”
”
Jarod Kintz (This Book is Not for Sale)
“
This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.
only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
i am permanently
tanned
in the summer of poetry.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
Of all the things I wondered about on this land, I wondered the hardest about the seduction of certain geographies that feel like home — not by story or blood but merely by their forms and colors. How our perceptions are our only internal map of the world, how there are places that claim you and places that warn you away. How you can fall in love with the light.
”
”
Ellen Meloy (The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky (Pulitzer Prize Finalist))
“
A turquoise given by a loving hand carries with it happiness and good fortune."
Arabic proverb
”
”
Judy Hall (101 Power Crystals: The Ultimate Guide to Magical Crystals, Gems, and Stones for Healing and Transformation)
“
The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love’s primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it.
”
”
Maggie Nelson (Bluets)
“
how these words, wait to die
in the arms of all the poetry..
yet to be written.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
may my touch
always...be tender
as i would stroke
mother's cheeks
when she cried.
”
”
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
“
Seriously, it was a day's labor to look in her eyes. Crystalline irises that darkened to turquoise around the edges. Poseidon couldn't have scoured the sea and come up with a more potent color.
”
”
Kelly Moran (Charmed (Fated #2))
“
His smile was so soft and fine:
like gleaming old ivory,
like homesickness, like a Christmas snowfall
in the dark village, like turquoise
around which many pearls are fashioned,
like moonlight
on a favorite book.
-in Mädchenmelancholie (Girls' melancholy)
”
”
Rainer Maria Rilke (The Book of Images)
“
My hair smells of oceanic wind
My eyes are two starfish
The charming, turquoise sea
is seducing me
The rhythms of the calming
Crashing waves are my guide
Omnipotent, almost holy,
They seek to cleanse my polluted soul
Here, by the seductive sea,
I am unshackled. I am free.
I am me.
”
”
Melody Lee (Moon Gypsy)
“
I believe we must do things in our lives for the right reasons, because we enjoy doing them, with no expectation of getting something back in return. Otherwise, we are constantly being disappointed." She moved her turquoise bracelet back and forth on her wrist. "So I had two sons, John and Richard, because I wanted to, not because I thought they would rescue me in old age. I got out of all social organizations and clubs in my fifties so I could spend time with my grandchildren, not because they would give something back to Jack and me later on, but because that was what I wanted to do--and I have loved doing it. Believe me, these have been selfish decisions.
”
”
Terry Tempest Williams (Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place)
“
Night. Heavenly delicious sweet night of the desert that calls all of us to love her. The night is our comfort with her coolness and darkness. On wings, on feet, on our bellies, out we all come to glory in the night.
”
”
Leslie Marmon Silko (The Turquoise Ledge: A Memoir)
“
He dreamt...he was a huge white egg floating in the sea of turquoise blue, and he was everything that there was.
”
”
Iris Murdoch (The Sacred and Profane Love Machine)
“
I breathe in...
The sights and smells
Of this city
I’ve come to know...
So well
I gaze...
Across the turquoise ocean
Where the waves
Liberate my spirit...
From its shell
I breathe in...
The brilliant sky line
Where the birds
Emerge shyly
From the dappled sunshine
I breathe in...
The gently...
Blowing winds
That soothe me
Like a mother, around her child
I breathe in...
The sounds of laughter
Pure and pretty
Like the golden-green butterfly
I’m always after
I breathe in...
The closeness,
I have always shared
With people,
Who almost knew me,
Almost cared
I breathe in...
The comfort
Of my home,
The safe walls,
The scents of childhood
On the pillows
I breathe in...the silence
Of my own heart
Aching with tenderness...
With memories..
Of home
I breathe... in...
The fragrance
Of love, and moist sand
The one...
His roses left...
On both my hands
And I just keep on breathing
Every moment
As much as I can
Preserving it, in my body
For the day
It can’t
So I breathe in..
Once again..
Feeling life's energy
Fizzing through my cells
Never knowing
What awaits me
Or what's going to happen to me..
Next
I breathe in
This moment...
Knowing it's either life
Or it's death
I close my eyes,
And breathe in
Just believing in myself.
”
”
Sanober Khan (A touch, a tear, a tempest)
“
There was a scrape and crunch of shoes, then a small, smooth hand slid toward her. But it was not Chaol or Sam or Nehemia who lay across from her, watching her with those sad turquoise eyes. Her cheek against the moss, the young princess she had been—Aelin Galathynius—reached a hand for her. “Get up,” she said softly. Celaena shook her head. Aelin strained for her, bridging that rift in the foundation of the world. “Get up.” A promise—a promise for a better life, a better world. The Valg princes paused. She had wasted her life, wasted Marion’s sacrifice. Those slaves had been butchered because she had failed—because she had not been there in time. “Get up,” someone said beyond the young princess. Sam. Sam, standing just beyond where she could see, smiling faintly. “Get up,” said another voice—a woman’s. Nehemia. “Get up.” Two voices together—her mother and father, faces grave but eyes bright. Her uncle was beside them, the crown of Terrasen on his silver hair. “Get up,” he told her gently. One by one, like shadows emerging from the mist, they appeared. The faces of the people she had loved with her heart of wildfire. And then there was Lady Marion, smiling beside her husband. “Get up,” she whispered, her voice full of that hope for the world, and for the daughter she would never seen again.
”
”
Sarah J. Maas (Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3))
“
I believe in magic. Writing is my magic wand, and through my magic I create my own secret world, away from all these worries and responsibilities. Love, honesty and humanity is essential to enter this beautiful world of magic. I dwell among White magical peacocks, glowing unicorns, fire breathing turquoise dragons, talking trees, flying horses, talking wise jackals and wolves, crystal water falls, secret pathways hidden in urban gardens and books with doorways to secret worlds. You need to believe in magic to experience it.
”
”
Ama H. Vanniarachchy
“
Enjoying life does not have to do extraordinary things by spending a lot of money. Spending a quality time together with our loved ones is the best way to enjoy life.
”
”
Titon Rahmawan (Turquoise)
“
I cross the street and walk into the Printemps. I go to the counter with necklaces and bracelets and earrings, which dazzle me always. I stand like a fascinated savage. Glitter. Amethyst. Turquoise. Shell pink. Irish green. I would like to be naked and cover myself in cold crystal jewelry. Jewelry and perfume.
”
”
Anaïs Nin (Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1931-1932)
“
We often do not believe in what we feel and therefore we ask for evidence from others that what we feel is right. We never even truly believe that true love exists and their eyes never turn away from our face.
”
”
Titon Rahmawan (Turquoise)
“
In the drawing a thick blue line separated the air and ground. In the days that followed I watched my family walk back and forth past that drawing and I became convinced that that thick blue line was a real place—an Inbetween, where heaven’s horizon met Earth’s. I wanted to go there into the cornflower blue of Crayola, the royal, the turquoise, the sky.
”
”
Alice Sebold (The Lovely Bones)
“
A gorgeous turquoise eyed blonde came crashing into my life and knocked me off my feet. She's fiery, strong and infuriatingly stubborn. I was hooked. She stained my shirt and stole my heart right in that shop and I haven't been able to get her out of my mind since. She's amazing and I've fallen head over heels in love with her. She's my happily every after.
”
”
Marie Coulson (Bound Together (Bound Together, #1))
“
I have always loved the many moods of the sky at Rocky Flats. Turquoise and teal in summer, fiery red at sunset, iron gray when snow is on the way. The land rolls in waves of tall prairie grass bowed to the wind, or sprawling mantles of white frosted with a thin sheath of ice in winter.
”
”
Kristen Iversen (Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats)
“
Let Us Gather In A Flourishing Way
Let us gather in a flourishing way
opening with sun light grains songs
we carry every day
I pasture the young body
happy to give and give pearls pearls
of corn flowing tree of life at the four corners
let us gather in a flourishing way
happy life full of strength to
giving birth to fragrant rivers
Fresh sweet green turquoise strong
rainbows flesh of our children
let us gather in a flourishing way
in the light and in the flesh of our heart to toil
quiet in fields of blossoms
together to stretch the arms
With the quiet rain in the morning
Early on our forehead star
Heat sky and wisdom to meet us
Where we toil always
in the garden of our Struggle and joy
let us offer our hearts to greet our eagle rising
freedom
woven branches celebrate arms branches
nopales stones feathers bursting piercing
figs and avocados
Butterfly ripe fields and clear seas
of our face
to breathe all the way in blessing
to give seeds to grow maiztlán
in the hands of our love.
”
”
Juan Felipe Herrera (Half of the World in Light: New and Selected Poems)
“
When I first met Billy I thought about sucking his eyes right out of their sockets. They’re like turquoise gum drops.
”
”
Jo Treggiari (Love You Like Suicide)
“
Naiad: cut your body into turquoise pieces,
they will bloom resurrected in the kitchen.
This is how you become everything that lives.
”
”
Pablo Neruda (100 Love Sonnets)
“
In genealogy you might say that interest lies in the eye of the gene holder. The actual descendants are far more intrigued with it all than the listeners, who quickly sink into a narcoleptic coma after the second or third great-great-somebody kills a bear or beheads Charles I, invents the safety pin or strip-mines Poland, catalogues slime molds, dances flamenco, or falls in love with a sheep. Genealogy is a forced march through stories. Yet everyone loves stories, and that is one reason we seek knowledge of our own blood kin.
Through our ancestors we can witness their times. Or, we think, there might be something in their lives, an artist’s or a farmer’s skill, an affection for a certain landscape, that will match or explain something in our own. If we know who they were, perhaps we will know who we are. And few cultures have been as identity-obsessed as ours. So keen is this fascination with ancestry, genealogy has become an industry. Family reunions choke the social calendar. Europe crawls with ancestor-seeking Americans. Your mother or your spouse or your neighbors are too busy to talk to you because they are on the Internet running “heritage quests.” We have climbed so far back into our family trees, we stand inches away from the roots where the primates dominate.
”
”
Ellen Meloy (The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky (Pulitzer Prize Finalist))
“
The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love's primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it. To have seen such beautiful things. To find oneself places in their midst.
”
”
Maggie Nelson (Bluets)
“
The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love's primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it. To have seen such beautiful things. To find oneself placed in their midst.
”
”
Maggie Nelson (Bluets)
“
She sounds wonderful, and just what you need, someone to rescue and adore. And she needed someone who would truly believe she's even more wonderful now than she was before. People who poo-poo sudden love do so simply because they are afraid to risk their own heart in such a manner. They dismiss that indefinable magic between two people who through some miracle we'll never understand and shouldn't try to, actually find each other in this crazy, godawful world.
”
”
Bobby Underwood (The Turquoise Shroud (Seth Halliday #1))
“
The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love’s primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it. To have seen such beautiful things. To find oneself placed in their midst. Choiceless.
”
”
Maggie Nelson (Bluets)
“
there are so many turquoise bodies of water left for us to dive in. there is family. blood or chosen. the possibility of falling in love. with people and places. hills high as the moon. valleys that roll into new worlds. and road trips. i find it deeply important to accept that we are not the masters of this place. we are her visitors. and like guests let’s enjoy this place like a garden. let us treat it with a gentle hand. so the ones after us can experience it too. let’s find our own sun. grow our own flowers. the universe delivered us with the light and the seeds. we might not hear it at times but the music is always on. it just needs to be turned louder. for as long as there is breath in our lungs — we must keep dancing.
”
”
Rupi Kaur (The sun and her flowers)
“
I took over the business and kept my mother’s shop, turning it into a cozy little coffee house under a new name. I went in one day to
get my usual cup of coffee and my life changed forever. A gorgeous, turquoise eyed blonde came crashing into my life and knocked me off my feet.
She was fiery, strong and infuriatingly stubborn. I was hooked. She stained my shirt and stole my heart right there in that shop and I haven’t been
able to get her out of my mind since. She’s amazing and I’ve fallen head over heels in love with her. She’s my happily ever after.
”
”
Marie Coulson (Bound Together (Bound Together, #1))
“
Lady of the Moon, of the fertile Earth and rolling seas! You who are the Maiden, with strong heart and youthful spirit. You who are the Mother, with able body and nurturing spirit. You who are the Crone, with wise mind and compassionate spirit. You who are birth, life, love and death. Descend upon my circle, I pray to witness these rites in your honor!
”
”
Robert Westbrook (Turquoise Lady (A Howard Moon Deer Mystery Book 5))
“
In the drawing a thick blue line separated the air and ground. In the days that followed I watched my family walk back and forth past that drawing and I became convinced that the thick blue line was a real place - an Inbetween, where heaven's horizon met Earth's. I wanted to go there into the cornflower blue of Crayola, the royal, the turquoise, the sky.
”
”
Alice Sebold (The Lovely Bones)
“
The human heart buries memories of love, files them away somewhere when they don't work out, because it hurts too much to remember feelings that you have little hope of recapturing. The truth is, you never recapture those exact feelings anyway, because love is different every time you feel it. But the head knows this, not the heart. So the heart buries them deep.
”
”
Bobby Underwood (The Turquoise Shroud (Seth Halliday #1))
“
Stories themselves have spirit and being, and they have a way of communicating on different levels. The story itself communicates with us regardless of what language it is told in. Of course stories are always funnier and more vivid when they are told in their original language by a good storyteller. But what I love about stories is they can survive and continue in some form or other resembling themselves regardless of how good or how bad the storyteller is, no matter what language they are told or written in. This is because the human brain favors stories or the narrative form as a primary means of organizing and relating human experience. Stories contain large amounts of valuable information even when they storyteller forgets or invents details.
”
”
Leslie Marmon Silko (The Turquoise Ledge: A Memoir)
“
and then there are days when the simple act of breathing leaves you exhausted. it seems easier to give up on this life. the thought of disappearing brings you peace. for so long i was lost in a place where there was no sun. where there grew no flowers. but every once in a while out of the darkness something i loved would emerge and bring me to life again. witnessing a starry sky. the lightness of laughing with old friends. a reader who told me the poems had saved their life. yet there i was struggling to save my own. my darlings. living is difficult. it is difficult for everybody. and it is at that moment when living feels like crawling through a pin-sized hole. that we must resist the urge of succumbing to bad memories. refuse to bow before bad months or bad years. cause our eyes are starving to feast on this world. there are so many turquoise bodies of water left for us to dive in. there is family. blood or chosen. the possibility of falling in love. with people and places. hills high as the moon. valleys that roll into new worlds. and road trips. i find it deeply important to accept that we are not the masters of this place. we are her visitors. and like guests let’s enjoy this place like a garden. let us treat it with a gentle hand. so the ones after us can experience it too. let’s find our own sun. grow our own flowers. the universe delivered us with the light and the seeds. we might not hear it at times but the music is always on. it just needs to be turned louder. for as long as there is breath in our lungs—we must keep dancing.
”
”
Rupi Kaur (The sun and her flowers)
“
And lastly were the single women. They would run the gamut from somewhat pretty to somewhat plain, dreadful, incurable diseases that had relegated them to lives of obscurity and boredom. They were hardly unattractive, each having something special to offer, but their figures and faces were more real than the latest Hollywood celebrity gracing the magazine cover at their local supermarket checkout. Outcasts in a non-substantive culture which worshipped only facade, they were hoping for the romance found in the pages of the Harlequins and Harold Robbins novels they read in their bedrooms, a pint of ice cream at their side. Their bedroom was their sanctuary, a place where they could dream of being taken and loved, worshipped and lusted after. If they were lucky, they would take home from Cozumel a sweet memory they would make last a lifetime. Evidence that they had lived. If they were unlucky, they would cross paths with a swarthy local Lothario or worse, a butch cruising for the vulnerable. The unsafe mix of inexperience and loneliness would lead them to acts so shameful and degrading they would never be able to enjoy the innocence of another Harlequin.
”
”
Bobby Underwood (The Turquoise Shroud (Seth Halliday #1))
“
And there Sara would stand, sometimes turning her face upward to the blue which seemed so friendly and near—just like a lovely vaulted ceiling—sometimes watching the west and all the wonderful things that happened there: the clouds melting or drifting or waiting softly to be changed pink or crimson or snow-white or purple or pale dove-gray. Sometimes they made islands or great mountains enclosing lakes of deep turquoise-blue, or liquid amber, or chrysoprase-green; sometimes dark headlands jutted into strange, lost seas; sometimes slender strips of wonderful lands joined other wonderful lands together.
”
”
Frances Hodgson Burnett (A Little Princess)
“
You can wear a variety of clothing. But you should have one designer you favor. I suggest Amano."
"Ooh," Noriko hums. "I love him."
Ichiko taps out something on her tablet and hands me photographs of his latest runway show. "I see it now. You are a small-town girl who supports the local artist. An up-and-comer like you. That's your brand." She winks at me. "Amano's pieces are flattering with a nod to classical elements, but with a certain modern flair."
Women strut down a white runway. One wears a black silk furisode with flowing kimono sleeves and a lotus flower motif. Another sports a red evening gown with a matching capelet. Another, a turquoise fitted dress with a square neckline and beaded belt. All so pretty. I like.
”
”
Emiko Jean (Tokyo Dreaming (Tokyo Ever After, #2))
“
Physically, Manya was both appealing and aristocratic in her bearing. It wasn't her copious white hair that attracted men, her flawless white skin, her billowing breasts, but the innate womanliness that emanated from her. Even when she wore her cooking clothes- a mammoth Hoover apron that she slipped on over her head and tied around a baggy dress or her cardigan sweater, a dull brown thing appropriate for shopping- she exuded a sympathetic femininity.
Many didn't give much thought to her appearance. More often than not she washed her face and body with the brown kosher soap that contained no fat from forbidden animals, and wrapped her hair in a haphazard bun held together with several large imitation-turquoise hairpins. Her cooking shoes were splattered with chicken and goose fat, bits and oddments of duck, salmon roe, even calves' brains. Because she had been raised on the Black Sea, she loved caviar, so every now and then a glistening bead would fall upon her well-fed shoes. The smell of food on her body made her no less alluring.
”
”
Eleanor Widmer (Up from Orchard Street)
“
Colby arrived the next day, with stitches down one lean cheek and a new prosthesis. He held it up as Cecily came out to the car to greet him. He held it up as Cecily came out to the car to greet him. “Nice, huh? Doesn’t it look more realistic than the last one?”
“What happened to the last one?” she asked.
“Got blown off. Don’t ask where,” he added darkly.
“I know nothing,” she assured him. “Come on in. Leta made sandwiches.”
Leta had only seen Colby once, on a visit with Tate. She was polite, but a little remote, and it showed.
“She doesn’t like me,” Colby told Cecily when they were sitting on the steps later that evening.
“She thinks I’m sleeping with you,” she said simply.” So does Tate.”
“Why?”
“Because I let him think I was,” she said bluntly.
He gave her a hard look. “Bad move, Cecily.”
“I won’t let him think I’m waiting around for him to notice me,” she said icily. “He’s already convinced that I’m in love with him, and that’s bad enough. I can’t have him know that I’m…well, what I am. I do have a little pride.”
“I’m perfectly willing, if you’re serious,” he said matter-of-factly. His face broke into a grin, belying the solemnity of the words. “Or are you worried that I might not be able to handle it with one arm?”
She burst out laughing and pressed affectionately against his side. “I adore you, I really do. But I had a bad experience in my teens. I’ve had therapy and all, but it’s still sort of traumatic for me to think about real intimacy.”
“Even with Tate?” he probed gently.
She wasn’t touching that line with a pole. “Tate doesn’t want me.”
“You keep saying that, and he keeps making a liar of you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He came to see me last night. Just after I spoke to you.” He ran his fingers down his damaged cheek.
She caught her breath. “I thought you got that overseas!”
“Tate wears a big silver turquoise ring on his middle right finger,” he reminded her. “It does a bit of damage when he hits people with it.”
“He hit you? Why?” she exclaimed.
“Because you told him we were sleeping together,” he said simply. “Honest to God, Cecily, I wish you’d tell me first when you plan to play games. I was caught off guard.”
“What did he do after he hit you?”
“I hit him, and one thing led to another. I don’t have a coffee table anymore. We won’t even discuss what he did to my best ashtry.”
“I’m so sorry!”
“Tate and I are pretty much matched in a fight,” he said. “Not that we’ve ever been in many. He hits harder than Pierce Hutton does in a temper.” He scowled down at her. “Are you sure Tate doesn’t want you? I can’t think of another reason he’d try to hammer my floor with my head.”
“Big brother Tate, to the rescue,” she said miserably. She laughed bitterly. “He thinks you’re a bad risk.”
“I am,” he said easily.
“I like having you as my friend.”
He smiled. “Me, too. There aren’t many people who stuck by me over the years, you know. When Maureen left me, I went crazy. I couldn’t live with the pain, so I found ways to numb it.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I came to my senses until you sent me to that psychologist over in Baltimore.” He glanced down at her. “Did you know she keeps snakes?” he added.
“We all have our little quirks.
”
”
Diana Palmer (Paper Rose (Hutton & Co. #2))
“
There was a scuffling and a great thump: Someone else had clambered out of the tunnel, overbalanced slightly, and fallen. He pulled himself up on the nearest chair, looked around through lopsided horn-rimmed glasses, and said, “Am I too late? Has it started? I only just found out, so I--I--”
Percy spluttered into silence. Evidently he had not expected to run into most of his family. There was a long moment of astonishment, broken by Fleur turning to Lupin and saying, in a wildly transparent attempt to break the tension, “So--’ow eez leetle Teddy?”
Lupin blinked at her, startled. The silence between the Weasleys seemed to be solidifying, like ice.
“I--oh yes--he’s fine!” Lupin said loudly. “Yes, Tonks is with him--at her mother’s--”
Percy and the other Weasleys were still staring at one another, frozen.
“Here, I’ve got a picture!” Lupin shouted, pulling a photograph from inside his jacket and showing it to Fleur and Harry, who saw a tiny baby with a tuft of bright turquoise hair, waving fat fists at the camera.
“I was a fool!” Percy roared, so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph. “I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a--a--”
“Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron,” said Fred.
Percy swallowed.
“Yes, I was!”
“Well, you can’t say fairer than that,” said Fred, holding out his hand to Percy.
Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. She ran forward, pushed Fred aside, and pulled Percy into a strangling hug, while he patted her on the back, his eyes on his father.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Percy said.
Mr. Weasley blinked rather rapidly, then he too hurried to hug his son.
“What made you see sense, Perce?” inquired George.
“It’s been coming on for a while,” said Percy, mopping his eyes under his glasses with a corner of his traveling cloak. “But I had to find a way out and it’s not so easy at the Ministry, they’re imprisoning traitors all the time. I managed to make contact with Aberforth and he tipped me off ten minutes ago that Hogwarts was going to make a fight of it, so here I am.”
“Well, we do look to our prefects to take a lead at times such as these,” said George in a good imitation of Percy’s most pompous manner. “Now let’s get upstairs and fight, or all the good Death Eaters’ll be taken.
”
”
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7))
“
The sun had not yet stood out from the orient, but his precedent light shone through the translucent blue. Yet it was not blue, nor is there any word, nor is a word possible to convey the feeling unless one could be built up of signs and symbols like those in the book of the magician, which glowed and burned to and fro the page. For the blue of the precious sapphire is thick to it, the turquoise dull, these hard surfaces are no more to be compared to it than sand and gravel. They are but stones, hard, cold, pitiful, that which gives them their lustre is the light. Through delicate porcelain sometimes the light comes, and it is not the porcelain, it is the light that is lovely. But porcelain is clay, and the light is shorn, checked, and shrunken. Down through the beauteous azure came the Light itself, pure, unreflected Light, untouched, untarnished even by the dew-sweetened petal of a flower, descending, flowing like a wind, a wind of glory sweeping through the blue. A luminous purple glowing as Love glows in the cheek, so glowed the passion of the heavens.
Two things only reach the soul. By touch there is indeed emotion. But the light in the eye, the sound of the voice! the soul trembles and like a flame leaps to meet them. So to the luminous purple azure his heart ascended.
”
”
Richard Jefferies (Bevis)
“
You did not do my homework assignment for me,” he said, grabbing the collage again and looking it over.
“I had insomnia,” I said. “I needed a creative activity.” Marlboro Man looked at me, seemingly unsure of whether to kiss me, thank me…or just tickle me some more.
I didn’t give him a chance. Instead I picked up the collage and took Marlboro Man on a tour so he’d be prepared for our appointment.
“Here’s a pack of cigarettes,” I said. “Because I used to smoke in college.”
“Uh-huh,” he answered. “I knew that.”
“And here’s a glass of white wine,” I continued. “Because…I love white wine.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Marlboro Man answered. “But…won’t Father Johnson have a problem with that being on there?”
“Nah…,” I said. “He’s Episcopalian.”
“Got it,” he said.
I continued with my collage orientation, pointing out the swatch of my favorite shade of turquoise…the pug…the ballet shoe…the Hershey’s Kiss. He watched and listened intently, prepping himself for Father Johnson’s upcoming grilling. Gradually the earliness of the morning and the cozy warmth of my bedroom got the better of us, and before we knew it we’d sunk into the irresistible softness of my bed, our arms and legs caught in a tangled maze.
“I think I love you,” his raspy voice whispered, his lips nearly touching my ear. His arms wrapped even more tightly around my body, swallowing me almost completely.
”
”
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
“
WHEN YOU CROW UP IN KANSAS WEARING VERY LARGE SHORTS, thinking not very much of yourself, thinking mainly of your knees, looking mainly at your knees, your face a frisbee that cant fly, your teeth buck, your eyebrows rectangles, your forehead more than half of your face, your shirts shapeless, your shape shapeless, your Kansas shapeless, your lust absent, your legs bowed, your arches flat, your chest flat, your ears your only curves, your ears never pierced, your denim never dazzled, your sneakers white, your socks white, your teeth turquoise with rubber bands, your cheese orange, your milk whole, your bread wonder, your luxury a tuna casserole, your pale a neon pale, your fantasy to race a Mario Kart over the desert and into the final oasis, your earthly oasis a salted pretzel, your solitude total, your urges not even visible to you on the clearest days at the farthest horizons, your blank magnificent, your inertia wild and authentic, your nothing your preference, and then into it somebody walks, a Joan, this sudden hero can really take control.
You’re susceptible first to idolatry, then to study, to apprenticeship, and finally to a kind of patient love that makes fun of itself and believes in itself without limit. Imagine being a pudding cup of a person and encountering a confident, elegant, powerful scholar who knows what to do with her shoulders. Imagine encountering you.
”
”
Rebecca Dinerstein Knight (Hex)
“
A pool game mixes ritual with geometry. The slow spaciousness of the green felt mirrors some internal state you get to after a few beers. Back at school, I’d been trying to read the philosophy of art, which I was grotesquely unequipped to do but nonetheless stuck on. I loved the idea that looking at a painting or listening to a concerto could make you somehow “transcend” the day-in, day-out bullshit that grinds you down; how in one instant of pure attention you could draw something inside that made you forever larger. In those days the drug culture was pimping “expanded consciousness,” a lie that partly descended from the old postindustrial lie of progress: any change in how your head normally worked must count as an improvement. Maybe my faith in that lie slid me toward an altered state that day. Or maybe it was just the beer, which I rarely drank. In any case, walking around the pool table, I felt borne forward by some internal force or fire. My first shot sank a ball. Then I made the most unlikely bank shot in history to drop two balls at once after a wild V trajectory. Daddy whistled. The sky through the window had gone the exact blue of the chalk I was digging my cue stick in, a shade solid and luminous at once, like the sheer turquoise used for the Madonna’s robe in Renaissance paintings. Slides from art history class flashed through my head. For a second, I lent that color some credit, as if it meant something that made my mind more buoyant. But that was crazy.
”
”
Mary Karr (The Liars' Club)
“
What does one wear to a ranch early in the morning? I wondered. I was stumped. I had enough good sense, thank God, to know my spiked black boots--the same boots I’d worn on basically every date with Marlboro Man thus far--were out of the question. I wouldn’t want them to get dirty, and besides that, people might look at me funny. I had a good selection of jeans, yes, but would I go for the dark, straight-leg Anne Kleins? Or the faded, boot-cut Gaps with contrast stitching? And what on earth would I wear on top? This could get dicey. I had a couple of nice, wholesome sweater sets, but the weather was turning warmer and the style didn’t exactly scream “ranch” to me. Then there was the long, flax-colored linen tunic from Banana Republic--one I loved to pair with a chunky turquoise necklace and sandals. But that was more Texas Evening Barbecue than Oklahoma Early-Morning Cattle Gathering. Then there were the myriad wild prints with sparkles and stones and other obnoxious adornments. But the last thing I wanted to do was spook the cattle and cause a stampede. I’d seen it happen in City Slickers when Billy Crystal fired up his cordless coffee grinder, and the results weren’t the least bit pretty.
I considered cancelling. I had absolutely nothing to wear. Every pair of shoes I owned was black, except for a bright yellow pair of pumps I’d bought on a whim in Westwood one California day. Those wouldn’t exactly work, either. And I didn’t own a single shirt that wouldn’t loudly broadcast *CLUELESS CITY GIRL!* *CLUELESS CITY GIRL!* *CLUELESS CITY GIRL!* I wanted to crawl under my covers and hide.
”
”
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
“
THE RETURN OF THE GODS Like a white bird upon the wind, the sail of the boat of Manannan mac Lir (Pronounced Mananarn mak Leer), the Son of the Sea, flew across the sparkling waves filled with the breeze that blew Westward to the Islands of the Blessed. The Sun Goddess above him smiled down with warmth upon her friend. The fish in the ocean danced for him beneath the turquoise water; the porpoises leapt above the waves to greet him. Upon the wind was a smell of sweetness, the smell of apple blossom in the Spring of the morning of the world. And in the prow of the boat sat Lugh (Pronounced Loo) the long-armed; strumming on his harp, he sang the Song of Creation. And as they drew closer to the green hills of Ireland, the holy land of Ireland, the Shee came out of their earth-barrow homes and danced for joy beneath the Sun. For hidden in a crane-skin sack at the bottom of the boat was the Holy Cup of Blessedness. Long had been her journeying through lands strange and far. And all who drank of that Cup, dreamed the dreams of holy truth, and drank of the Wine of everlasting life. And deep within the woods, in a green-clad clearing, where the purple anemone and the white campion bloomed, where primroses still lingered on the shadowed Northern side, a great stag lifted up his antlered head and sniffed the morning. His antlers seven-forked spoke of mighty battles fought and won, red was his coat, the colour of fire, and he trotted out of his greenwood home, hearing on the wind the song of Lugh. And in her deep barrow home, the green clad Goddess of Erin, remembered the tongue that she had forgotten. She remembered the secrets of the weaving of spells, She remembered the tides of woman and the ebb and flow of wave and Moon. She remembered the people who had turned to other Gods and coming out of her barrow of sleep, her sweet voice echoed the verses of Lugh and the chorus of Manannan. And the great stag of the morning came across the fields to her and where had stood the Goddess now stood a white hind. And the love of the God was returned by the Goddess and the larks of Anghus mac Og hovering above the field echoed with ecstasy the Song of Creation. And in the villages and towns the people came out of their houses, hearing the sweet singing and seeking its source. And children danced in the streets with delight. And they went down to the shore, the Eastern shore, where rises the Sun of the Morning, and awaited the coming of Manannan and Lugh, the mast of their boat shining gold in the Sun. The sea had spoken, the Eastern dawn had given up her secret, the Gods were returning, the Old Ones awakening, joy was returning unto the sleeping land.
”
”
Sarah Owen (Paganism: A Beginners Guide to Paganism)
“
Skiddy Cottontail—that was his name—and he defended LGBT equality. He was a flamboyant, colorful striped rabbit, with a headdress of a rainbow crown on his forehead. The radiance of his energy was violet, scarlet, and turquoise; as it represented his love for everyone.
In the infancy years of his existence, he was abandoned—alone—unwanted—unloved; rejected by a world that disdains him. His father wished him deceased, his family exiled him from the warren, he was physically mistreated and preyed on by homophobic mobs in the surrounding community by Elephants—Hyenas—rats.
They splashed spit at his face, advising him that God condemns homosexuality—as Christ did not. They would slam him on the pavement with their Bibles, strike him in the stomach with their feet, throw boulders of stone at his body: imploring—abusing—condemning him to a tyrannical sentence.
Skiddy Cottontail thought that his existence would end with this case of cruelty—violence—assault that was perpetrated against him. He wanted to cease to exist— he wanted to commit the ultimate murder on himself—he no more desired to go on living— he realized hope is already deceased.
He yearned to have the courage to emerge, to discover his bravery that would sever this spiral of sensations of oppression. Being a victim made him a slave to his opponent—as his adversaries have full leverage against him. Life has become a thread of light, which he longed to be liberated from its shackles. His demon—a voice that keeps blaming him for his crimes in the back of his mind—a glass that continually cracks in his heart—will keep breaking him if he does not devise a way out of this crisis.
He was conscious by his innermost conviction that there was candlelight with a key that had the potential to illuminate a new chapter that will erase this trail of obscurity behind him. He sees a new horizon with greater comprehension, a journey that can give him the roses of affection than a handful of dead birds that his adversaries handed him along the way. The stunning blossoming trees did have a forest—beautiful greenery that was colorful like the rainbow in the Heavens. This home will embrace him with a warm embrace of open arms, where cruelty is forbidden; where adoration can forever abound.
Dawn will know him when he arrives. No more hurricanes or strife will be here—no crying of a sad humanity are here—only a gift of harmony and devotion, beyond all explanation, will abide in the heart of Skiddy Cottontail—when he finds his way out from this opponent world for a beautiful existence that is called liberation. Skiddy Cottontail has found a happiness that can only bring him contentment like nothing in this hurtful world can. Find your own sense of balance like him, Skiddy Cottontail, and you will experience serenity as much as him.
”
”
Be Daring like Skiddy Cottontail by D.L. Lewis
“
heard sudden movement, as if someone had sat up quickly. They stood up, whoever they were, and he heard soft footsteps. “Eamon? Eamon, is that really you?” Holy shit. He bolted to his feet. “Madam President?” A chuckle. “I told you to call me Barb, Eamon.” With two steps he crossed the breadth of the cell and held onto the bars, straining to see around and to his left, to the other cell holding Avery. “You’re alive? But … General Norton told me your ship exploded. He accused me of doing it!” She chuckled again, then sighed. “Well, in his defense, I did suspect you. Told him to keep an eye on you. Told him you might try something like this.” “You did?” “Looks like we were both played. Played like a freshman congressman. Here we are, at the top of our games, seasoned politicians, feared or loved by everyone, and we were outdone … by a soldier.” He shook his head. “He can’t be acting alone. Speaker LaPierre must be behind it. Why else go after both of us at once?” She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he heard movement as if she’d sunk down to her knees or sat down on the floor. Moments later, a hand reached out, just visible past the last bar of his cell. The gold band of her turquoise ring flashed in the dim light. It was Avery all right. He knelt down and reached out to it. Holding it. She gripped back tightly. “Eamon, I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you. This was all my fault. All I wanted was to save Earth, and now I may have doomed it.” Her voice sounded small. To his ears, she seemed broken. Her tone sounded like one defeated. Utterly
”
”
Nick Webb (Warrior (Legacy Fleet Trilogy, #2))
“
How is Maria's mother doing, if I may ask?" His tone became less formal. "She is very well, thank you. She is quite involved in charity work and has those who love her around her, I believe. It helps." "I'm sure it does." I considered carefully my next words.
”
”
Bobby Underwood (The Turquoise Shroud (Seth Halliday #1))
“
It has come quickly, this crushing, industrial love of paradise. The pervert-free, less-trammeled, hundred-mile-view days were little more than two decades past, not so very long ago. Yet already my own history sounds like another country.
”
”
Ellen Meloy (The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky (Pulitzer Prize Finalist))
“
She loved everything around, turquoise blue sky and calm sea, and the holy mountain, and fragrant woods on it, and monasteries and hermitages, and herbs, and flowers, and monks and pilgrims, and children. And him? She asked herself and almost said “yes” inwardly...
”
”
Osyp Nazaruk (Roxelana)
“
I scanned the room, knowing it couldn't take long to spot Annie, who had chosen to wear a floor-length 1960s muumuu in a deep shade of turquoise that looked, I had to admit, strikingly lovely against her honey-toned skin. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, giving her a couple extra inches of height, and spiked through with a gold, rhinestone-encrusted chopstick. Or at least I thought it was a chopstick, but who knew what you called the utensil once it pierced a mound of hair. Perhaps just a stick? Regardless, she looked stunning- like a colorful little bird that surprises everyone with its audacity and out-of-place beauty by landing right in the middle of a bustling city sidewalk.
”
”
Meg Donohue (How to Eat a Cupcake)
“
Despite mournful envy and
Dejected wrath,
We bask under blue skies,
Bewitching stars,
And mystical moons,
Loving rumbles of thunder,
Glistening raindrops,
And a hazy peaceful sunrise.
In the face of
Sorrowful greed,
We delight in magnificent mountains,
Bountiful oceans,
Turquoise lagoons,
Beautiful blossoms,
And the green, green grass
Of springtime.
Through raging anger,
Aching sadness,
We treasure radiant sunsets,
Seek marble courtyards,
Ancient architecture,
And splendid arched bridges.
We sing the praises of
Breathtaking falls.
Even crushed
And bewildered,
We are captivated by
Exquisite winged creatures,
Tropical forests,
And the critters we nurture.
We embrace the power in our divinity
And the superb magic of everything.
With every threat to the world
We belong to
And embrace,
We revel in books and dreams.
We’re mesmerized by
Otherworldly visions
And plentiful hues.
We cherish
The light in ever-curious
Truth seekers,
And are ever grateful
For smiles,
Rapturous affection,
Laughter,
And love.
”
”
D.K. Sanz/Kyrian Lyndon
“
Faile watched the last embers of the miniature pyre flicker out. “I think Rolan actually loved me,” she said. And that was all.
The four rose and returned to the camp. The past was a field of embers and ash, an old Saldaean proverb said, the remnants of the fire that was the present. Those embers blew away behind her. But she kept Rolan’s turquoise stone. Not for regret, but for remembrance.
”
”
Brandon Sanderson (The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time, #12))
“
our eyes are starving to feast on this world. there are so many turquoise bodies of water left for us to dive in. there is family. blood or chosen. the possibility of falling in love. with people and places.
”
”
Rupi Kaur (The Sun and Her Flowers)
“
Getting It Right"
Your ankles make me want to party,
want to sit and beg and roll over
under a pair of riding boots with your ankles
hidden inside, sweating beneath the black tooled leather;
they make me wish it was my birthday
so I could blow out their candles, have them hung
over my shoulders like two bags
full of money. Your ankles are two monster-truck engines
but smaller and lighter and sexier
than a saucer with warm milk licking the outside edge;
they make me want to sing, make me
want to take them home and feed them pasta,
I want to punish them for being bad
and then hold them all night long and say I’m sorry, sugar, darling,
it will never happen again, not
in a million years. Your thighs make me quiet. Make me want to be
hurled into the air like a cannonball
and pulled down again like someone being pulled into a van.
Your thighs are two boats burned out
of redwood trees. I want to go sailing. Your thighs, the long breath of them under the blue denim of your high-end jeans,
could starve me to death, could make me cry and cry.
Your ass is a shopping mall at Christmas,
a holy place, a hill I fell in love with once
when I was falling in love with hills.
Your ass is a string quartet,
the northern lights tucked tightly into bed
between a high-count-of-cotton sheets.
Your back is the back of a river full of fish;
I have my tackle and tackle box. You only have to say the word.
Your back, a letter I have been writing for fifteen years, a smooth stone,
a moan someone makes when his hair is pulled, your back
like a warm tongue at rest, a tongue with a tab of acid on top; your spine
is an alphabet, a ladder of celestial proportions.
I am navigating the North and South of it.
Your armpits are beehives, they make me want
to spin wool, want to pour a glass of whiskey, your armpits dripping their honey, their heat, their inexhaustible love-making dark.
I am bright yellow for them.
I am always thinking about them,
resting at your side or high in the air when I’m pulling off your shirt. Your arms of blue and ice with the blood running
to make them believe in God. Your shoulders
make me want to raise an arm and burn down the Capitol. They sing
to each other underneath your turquoise slope-neck blouse.
Each is a separate bowl of rice
steaming and covered in soy sauce. Your neck
is a skyscraper of erotic adult videos, a swan and a ballet
and a throaty elevator
made of light. Your neck
is a scrim of wet silk that guides the dead into the hours of Heaven.
It makes me want to die, your mouth, which is the mouth of everything worth saying. It’s abalone and coral reef. Your mouth,
which opens like the legs of astronauts
who disconnect their safety lines and ride their stars into the billion and one voting districts of the Milky Way.
Darling, you’re my President; I want to get this right!
Matthew Dickman, The New Yorker: Poems | August 29, 2011 Issue
”
”
Matthew Dickman
“
Love, love all the way. Don’t care if you’re a devil or child of the devil… Cambion. I’m in love with you and I always will till my last breath.
”
”
Maira Imran (Turquoise (The Cambion Series, #3))
“
A Cambion can love me that much… That’s tempting beautiful. I love you, Archie!
”
”
Maira Imran (Turquoise (The Cambion Series, #3))
“
Son of a Devil, I’m in love with him!
”
”
Maira Imran (Turquoise (The Cambion Series, #3))
“
She would. Even if Danika had to snarl in Micah Domitus’s face, she’d get her point across. There weren’t many who’d dare piss off the Archangel of Crescent City, but Danika wouldn’t hesitate. And given that all seven Heads of the City would be at this meeting, the odds of that happening were high. Things tended to escalate swiftly when they were in one room. There was little love lost between the six lower Heads in Crescent City, the metropolis formally known as Lunathion. Each Head controlled a specific part of the city: the Prime of the wolves in Moonwood, the Fae Autumn King in Five Roses, the Under-King in the Bone Quarter, the Viper Queen in the Meat Market, the Oracle in the Old Square, and the River Queen—who very rarely made an appearance—representing the House of Many Waters and her Blue Court far beneath the Istros River’s turquoise surface. She seldom deigned to leave it.
”
”
Sarah J. Maas (House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City, #1))
“
nor did I pay attention to the curious stares people sent our way. I hadn’t been spotted with a woman on my arm in over a year. By tomorrow morning, the city would be abuzz about the date I’d brought, but I couldn’t care less. From the moment Stella had stepped into her living room wearing that damn dress, every other thought had crumbled into dust. A soft flame of resentment burned in my chest. I hated the hold she had on me, but still, I couldn’t stop looking at her. A turn of my head in the car ride over. A last-minute flight to a far-flung country to keep myself away. Scattered weeks and months when I’d thrown myself into work to forget her. No matter what I did, something always drew me back—the gentle lilt of her voice, the scent of fresh florals and greenery. A turquoise ring that burned a hole in my pocket long after I’d vowed to toss it in the trash. It wasn’t love. But it was maddening.
”
”
Ana Huang (Twisted Lies (Twisted, #4))
“
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**Influence of the Chinese] Another important part of the island's culture is the Chinese community. The Chinese have enriched Mauritian life with their culinary traditions, despite their primary involvement in commerce. Cafés serving delightful Chinese dishes coincide close by Indian diners. Try not to miss attempting neighborhood claims to fame like stew chicken and broiled noodles, which keep up with their exceptional Mauritian curve.
**Exploring Culture While Traveling** When you book a Mauritius Tour Package From Bangalore, SurfNxt makes sure that you see the island's cultural highlights. You can partake in nearby celebrations, visit noteworthy sanctuaries, and investigate clamoring markets. Each experience furnishes a chance to draw in with the neighborhood local area, become familiar with their traditions, and value their lifestyle.
Conclusion: Mauritius is much more than just a lovely place to go to the beach; a mixture of societies vows to have an enduring effect. The combination of Indian, African, Chinese, and European influences results in a travel experience that is extremely enriching.
”
”
Mauritius Tour Package From Bangalore
“
we will never get away from the negative, and we will never have enough of the positive, it is just the way dice roll in life, you are the person in that field covered in lilac flowers, you are that solitaire person walking by the Turquoise blue ocean, filled with tranquillity wisdom and hope, you are the universe the infinite, you are love
”
”
Kenan Hudaverdi (LA VIGIE : THE LOOKOUT)
“
He placed the long, gold chain over her head. Then he held the turquoise between his fingers. "This is where it belongs. With you, Always."
With tears in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It wasn't just a thank-you for finding her treasured memento, but something deeper, more heartfelt, and he realized this wasn't a thank-you at all.
He felt the same wolfish need, the same lustful attraction and, he was fairly certain, the same desire to take this further. He was torn between ending the kiss and wanting to prolong it, while she wrapped one leg around his, anchoring herself to him, her body moving against his in the gently ripples of the lake, up and down. Despite the wet suit and her bathing suit between them, he felt his erection rising to the occasion again. Of course, all he really needed was to see her in that bathing suit, her nipples standing out against the stretchy suite, to make his cock stir.
With her body moving against his in such an erotic way, he was suffering. Their tongues were doing a slow slide together, back and around, as he kept one hand against her naked back and the other cupping her head for maximum kissing pleasure. The sun shone off the water, the heat of their bodies keeping them warm. He sure loved kissing her like this and felt like one hot SEAL wolf wrapped around a wolfish mermaid.
”
”
Terry Spear (SEAL Wolf Hunting (Heart of the Wolf, #16))
“
Primer of Love [Lesson 50]
There will be trouble
if the cobbler starts making pies.
~ Russian Proverb
Lesson 50) Don't give or take advice about something
you don't know about --
consult the experts.
If you're having a serious problem in your relationship don't only consult friends -- they are not disinterested parties and will only reaffirm your misgivings -- after all, what are friends for -- sounding boards to bounce our premature conclusions off of. Go to the experts -- Meinecke Mufflers. Seriously, avoid divorce lawyers -- their sole job is to exacerbate things between you so they can milk you until you moo. I mean therapists, marriage counselors, social workers and clergymen. If you're anti-let's-talk-about-it, i.e., any man, then start by taking some new age intimacy workshop -- even if you have to fly to Taos for the weekend. Even if you break up you'll wind up with some cool turquoise jewelry and a banded agate Bola tie to wear at court.
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Beryl Dov
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The Future Glory of Zion 1“Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,” says the LORD. 2“Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. 3For you will spread out to the right and to the left; your descendants will dispossess nations and settle in their desolate cities. 4“Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. 5For your Maker is your husband— the LORD Almighty is his name— the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth. 6The LORD will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit— a wife who married young, only to be rejected,” says your God. 7“For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back. 8In a surge of anger I hid my face from you for a moment, but with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you,” says the LORD your Redeemer. 9“To me this is like the days of Noah, when I swore that the waters of Noah would never again cover the earth. So now I have sworn not to be angry with you, never to rebuke you again. 10Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you. 11“O afflicted city, lashed by storms and not comforted, I will build you with stones of turquoise,† your foundations with sapphires.† 12I will make your battlements of rubies, your gates of sparkling jewels, and all your walls of precious stones. 13All your sons will be taught by the LORD, and great will be your children’s peace. 14In righteousness you will be established: Tyranny will be far from you; you will have nothing to fear. Terror will be far removed; it will not come near you. 15If anyone does attack you, it will not be my doing; whoever attacks you will surrender to you. 16“See, it is I who created the blacksmith who fans the coals into flame and forges a weapon fit for its work. And it is I who have created the destroyer to work havoc; 17no weapon forged against you will prevail, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and this is their vindication from me,” declares the LORD.
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Anonymous (New Women's Devotional Bible)
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Patches of hair stuck to his wet cheekbones. His ears were threaded with tiny little wampum earrings, except at the cartilage, where the rings were turquoise. His stubby nose ended abruptly at the bottom of a short bridge. His face tapered with a round chin, a white birthmark under his jaw. He was my favorite picture. He burned into the backs of my eyes.
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Rose Christo (The Dogs of Balboa)
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Paul felt his knees almost buckle when he saw her. Now, he knew this was one fine-looking woman, and since he’d been the best man at her last wedding, it wasn’t as if he’d never seen her all dressed up. But it felt like the first time. She was usually found in jeans or a simple sundress, and in those she was almost too much for his heart. Today she was resplendent in green so pale it was nearly white. It was a shimmering, clingy silk, her reddish-gold hair lying in full curls on her shoulders and down her back. Her turquoise eyes were alive with love, sparkling brightly, and her peach lips were curved in a smile. “Holy shit,” Tommy said. “Look at my sister, man.” “I see her,” Paul croaked. “God above.” Tom laughed. “Well, go get her,” he said, poking him in the ribs. “God, I hope I’m cooler than you when I get married.” “Yeah,” Paul said in a weak breath. He unstuck his rooted feet and went to collect his bride and bring her into the gathering. She was greeted with lots of hugs and kisses, a glass pressed into her hand. Paul’s arm was around her waist and he couldn’t make himself let her go. He felt his chest swell with cocky pride, having her at his side. No way he should be getting a woman who looked like this. And she was all his; she couldn’t even glance at him without confirming that with her gaze. “Let’s
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Robyn Carr (Second Chance Pass)
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Green will typically look at history, for example, and whenever it finds a society in which there is a widespread lack of green values, it assumes that these green values would normally and naturally be present were it not for the fact that they have been maliciously oppressed by the dominator hierarchies found in that society. All individuals would possess worldcentric green values of pluralism, radical egalitarianism, and total equality, except for the oppressive controlling powers that crushed those values wherever they appeared. […] The existence of strong and widespread oppressive forces cannot be doubted. The problem comes in the claim to know what their source and cause is. For green postmodernism, the cause of the lack of worldcentric green values in any culture is due to an aggressive and intensively active repressive and oppressive force (usually the male sex; or a particular race— white in most parts of the world, coupled with a rampant colonialism— and/or due to a particular creed—usually religious fundamentalism of one sort or another; or various prejudices—against gays, against women, against whatever minority that is oppressed). In short, lack of green values (egalitarian, group freedom, gender equality, human care and sensitivity) is due to a presence of oppression. […] The major problem with that view taken by itself is that it completely overlooks the central role of growth, development, and evolution. We’ve already seen that human moral identity grows and develops from egocentric (red) to ethnocentric (amber) to worldcentric (orange then green) to integral (turquoise; and this is true individually as well as collectively/historically). Thus, the main reason that slavery was present, say, 2000 years ago, is not because there was an oppressive force preventing worldcentric freedom, but that a worldcentric notion of freedom had not even emerged yet anywhere on the planet. It wasn’t present and then oppressed, as green imagines, it simply had not yet emerged in the first place—there was nothing to oppress. This is why, as only one example, all of the world’s great religions, who otherwise teach love and compassion and treating all beings kindly, nonetheless—precisely because they were created during the great ethnocentric Mythic Age of traditional civilization —had no extensive and widespread conception of the fundamental worldcentric freedom of human beings—or the belief that all humans, regardless of race, sex, color, or creed, were born equal—and thus not one of them strenuously objected to the fact that a very large portion of their own population were slaves. Athens and Greek society, vaunted home of democracy, had 1 out of 3 of their people who were slaves—and no major complaint on a culture-wide scale. Nor was there a widespread culturally effective complaint from Christianity or Buddhism or Hinduism et al. It wasn’t until the emergence of the worldcentric Age of Reason that “we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal” actually came into existence—emerged evolutionarily—and thus started to be believed by the average and typical member of that culture.
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Ken Wilber (Trump and a Post-Truth World: An Evolutionary Self-Correction)
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For the turquoise is to all Tibetans a most precious jewel, They love it for its beauty and they believe it has magic power, It is the symbol of power and of wealth, the wealth of this world and the wealth of the soul; and it is the outward sign of sovereignty. Only officials may wear the long single turquoise eatting which is the badge of rank, though all, even the poorest, men as well as women, are never contented or secure until they can wear a fleck of the magic stone, in a nose, or ear, or finger ring. However small it may be, the precious gem will protect them from danger and evil, and will link them to God.
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Louise S. Rankin (Daughter of the Mountains (Newbery Library, Puffin))
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No matter what I did, something always drew me back—the gentle lilt of her voice, the scent of fresh florals and greenery. A turquoise ring that burned a hole in my pocket long after I’d vowed to toss it in the trash. It wasn’t love. But it was maddening.
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Ana Huang (Twisted Lies (Twisted, #4))
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He thought about it; reprieve in a paradise far removed from the cold and the wind and the unbroken horizon. A world so warm and turquoise-resplendent that it wouldn't matter, really, that he'd spent all this time loving a woman [...] who hated him.
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Allie Ray (Inheritance)
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A Maldives holiday gives you the opportunity to walk in the pristine white sands, throw them among your feet and keep your mind on the bustle of the waves of the ocean at an ideal level of relaxation. Is it possible that there is more fun than we do in the Maldives? The charming atmosphere and relaxing aura are combined as a perfect match to the heavenly connection which you share with the love of life which speaks volumes of honeymoon tour packages on the Maldives.
The honeymoon packages from India to the Maldives are made to perfectly suit your needs and offer you an excellent vacation. In comparison to the experience that awaits you, the prices of the Maldives online Honeymoon packages are fully justified. It is known that traveling brings people together as we grow on each tour. With our Maldives honeymoon packages, a special tour with your better half can be extra special. The shades of the darkness and dawn of this land are striking like a painting; you can visit the Maldives for an unforgettable holiday with Benchmark holiday online packages. This is a panoramic place to capture new beginnings in perfect strokes of green and blue with all-new aquatic and turquoise shades. The grace of romance easily sweeps into the heart while hunting for the best packages of Maldives honeymoon. To plan your best holiday online, choose a Maldives tour package, at affordable prices too. We give you the ability to recall our legacy and to enjoy it, to explore and celebrate life in the best online packs in the Maldives.
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Benchmark Holiday
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There was a scrape and crunch of shoes, then a small, smooth hand slid toward her. But it was not Chaol or Sam or Nehemia who lay across from her, watching her with those sad turquoise eyes. Her cheek against the moss, the young princess she had been—Aelin Galathynius—reached a hand for her. ‘Get up,’ she said softly. Celaena shook her head. Aelin strained for her, bridging that rift in the foundation of the world. ‘Get up.’ A promise—a promise for a better life, a better world. The Valg princes paused. She had wasted her life, wasted Marion’s sacrifice. Those slaves had been butchered because she had failed—because she had not been there in time. ‘Get up,’ someone said beyond the young princess. Sam. Sam, standing just beyond where she could see, smiling faintly. ‘Get up,’ said another voice—a woman’s. Nehemia. ‘Get up.’ Two voices together—her mother and father, faces grave but eyes bright. Her uncle was beside them, the crown of Terrasen on his silver hair. ‘Get up,’ he told her gently. One by one, like shadows emerging from the mist, they appeared. The faces of the people she had loved with her heart of wildfire. And then there was Lady Marion, smiling beside her husband. ‘Get up,’ she whispered, her voice full of that hope for the world, and for the daughter she would never seen again….
She would not let that light go out. She would fill the world with it, with her light—her gift. She would light up the darkness, so brightly that all who were lost or wounded or broken would find their way to it, a beacon for those who still dwelled in that abyss. It would not take a monster to destroy a monster—but light, light to drive out darkness. She was not afraid. She would remake the world—remake it for them, those she had loved with this glorious, burning heart; a world so brilliant and prosperous that when she saw them again in the Afterworld, she would not be ashamed. She would build it for her people, who had survived this long, and whom she would not abandon. She would make for them a kingdom such as there had never been, even if it took until her last breath…
Aelin Galathynius smiled at her, hand still outreached. ‘Get up,’ the princess said. Celaena reached across the earth between them and brushed her fingers against Aelin’s. And arose.
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Sarah J. Maas (Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3))
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Her bright, golden hair was tied back in a casual braid, and the turquoise of her clothes—fashioned like my own—offset her sun-kissed skin, making her practically glow in the morning light. “Hello, hello,” she chirped, her full lips parting in a dazzling smile as her rich brown eyes fixed on me. “Feyre,” Rhys said smoothly, “meet my cousin, Morrigan. Mor, meet the lovely, charming, and open-minded Feyre.” I debated splashing my tea in his face, but Mor strode toward me. Each step was assured and steady, graceful, and … grounded. Merry but alert. Someone who didn’t need weapons—or at least bother to sheath them at her side.
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Sarah J. Maas (A Court of Mist and Fury (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #2))
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Healing spell, sleeping spell, protection, strong bonding spell… Love spell!
I said as I glance at Archie unintentionally.
He smirked devilishly and my cheeks starts blushing.
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Maira Imran (Turquoise (The Cambion Series, #3))
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Every time, every time when he came closer to me it’s like I’m drowning in his love, his scent, his innocence… I love when he holds me like this.
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Maira Imran (Turquoise (The Cambion Series, #3))
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Fresa Blossom, you are in love with Archie Snow.
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Maira Imran (Turquoise (The Cambion Series, #3))
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I know what scares me the most… losing someone that I care about, I’m scared because loving Archie is like losing him too which I can’t take it anymore. I love him.
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Maira Imran (Turquoise (The Cambion Series, #3))
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I read hundreds of novels but my story is better in any way. I’m with Archie. The love of my life. I’m his Elizabeth, his Juliet, his love.
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Maira Imran (Turquoise (The Cambion Series, #3))
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I love a good cranial explosion just as much as the next girl.
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Gerri R. Gray (The Strange Adventures of Turquoise Moonwolf)
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These small surprises can do a lot to break the monotony of everyday routines. A few months ago I realized that though I loved our white dinnerware, I was getting a bit bored with it. But rather than consider buying a new set, I ordered two extra pink plates in each size. The pink dishes make the whole stack of plates seem more appealing, and when laid out on the table for a dinner party, they’re like joyful punctuation marks. Similarly, the “accent nail” trend, which involves painting the thumb or ring fingernail in an atypical color like lemon yellow or turquoise, offers a simple way to make a manicure special.
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Ingrid Fetell Lee (Joyful: The Surprising Power of Ordinary Things to Create Extraordinary Happiness)
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In my one eye of eyes, she looks in my hands of soul. The light blue eyes have changed in blue darker eyes as long as white dark blue eyes may see in something longer than the universal responsibility always is carried by silence, in harmony and because of inner peace. I do love her blue colour, and it is almost as beautiful, as dark turquoise!
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Petra Hermans (Voor een betere wereld)
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Shockingly, she’s there, but it’s even more shocking that she’s pretty. She is pretty, sweeter, and cuter than me. Clear and white skin, pink lips. Every boys’ dream! I couldn’t stop gawking at her. Kellie has amazing big almost turquoise eyes that open wide and slight rosy cheekbones, like a model. And the best part of it all is her boobs look as big as mine. People are nudging and pushing us because she’s and, I am obstructing the entranceway, but we just stood there, anyways when we had that chat.
Oh, I forgot to say that a girl was peeing behind a car when looking out. It kind of slipped my mind. It’s a cold night, those intents better have a snuggle buddy to stay warm, and a good sleeping bag.
Maddie and Liv catch a glimpse of her walking by, and their mouths both drop open. ‘What the… hell… is that relay Karly little sister?’ Jenny and her boy turn to see what we’re both them staring at. I see Shy- looking to form the steps. Jenny goes ashen at first-she looks afraid, which is beyond strange, for her… because of her- the type to say you’re never too young to go down and get down. She loves to see young girls fall to their knees; I call it- ‘Fallen too You.’ It’s when you get up everything for a boy, like your dignity, pride, and justice.
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Marcel Ray Duriez (Young Taboo (Nevaeh))