Night With Him Famous Quotes & Sayings
100 Night With Him Famous Sayings, Quotes and Quotation.
...at every twirl a year fell from his shoulders; soon he felt back at the age of twenty, when in that very same ballroom he had danced with Stella before he knew disappointment, boredom, and the rest. For a second, that night, death seemed to him once more "something that happens to others."...— Giuseppe Tomasi Di Lampedusa
How lovely the months, the years with him had been. At the moment I hadn't understood their importance, and now here I was, growing sad. The rain the cold the snow the scents of Spring along the Arno and on the flowering streets of the city, the warmth we gave each other. Choosing a dress, glasses. His pleasure in changing me. And Paris, the exciting trip to a foreign country, the cafes, the politics, the literature, the revolution that would soon arrive, even though the working class was becoming integrated. And him. His room at night. His body. All finished. I tossed nervously in my bed unable to sleep. I'm lying to myself , I thought. Had it really been so wonderful ? I knew very well that at that time, too, there had been shame. And uneasiness, and humiliation, and disgust: accept, submit force yourself. Is it possible that even happy moments of pleasure never stand up to rigorous examination— Elena Ferrante
Laura looked up at him with dead blue eyes.— Neil Gaiman
I want to be alive again," she said. "Not in this half-life. I want to be really alive. I want to feel my heart pumping in my chest again. I want to feel blood moving through me - hot, and salty, and real. It's weird, you don't think you can feel it, the blood, but believe me, when it stops flowing, you'll know."
She rubbed her eyes, smudging her face with red from the mess on her hands.
Look, it's hard. You know why dead people only go out at night, puppy? Because it's easier to pass for real, in the dark. And I don't want to have to pass. I want to be alive.
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.— Christopher Smart
For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with his elegant quickness ...
For when his day's work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord's watch in the night against adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin & glaring eyes.
I love, I can only love the one I've left behind, stained with my blood when, ungrateful wretch that I am, I extinguished myself and shot myself through the heart. But never, never have I ceased to love that one, and even on the night I parted from him I loved him perhaps more poignantly than ever. We can truly love only with suffering and through suffering! We know not how to love otherwise. We know no other love. I want suffering in order to love. I want and thirst this very minute to kiss , with tears streaming down my cheeks, this one and only I have left behind. I don't want and won't accept any other.— Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The sadist in him loved knowing that he'd used her for his pleasure, while also expressing his disappointment in her, whereas, the man who wanted to build something with her felt remorse that he'd left her hanging last night in more ways than one.— Josie Leigh
Thou goest home this night to thy home of winter, To thy home of autumn, of spring, and of summer; Thou goest home this night to thy perpetual home, To thine eternal bed, to thine eternal slumber. Sleep thou, sleep, and away with thy sorrow, Sleep thou, sleep, and away with thy sorrow, Sleep thou, sleep, and away with thy sorrow, Sleep, thou beloved, in the Rock of the fold. The shade of death lies upon thy face, beloved, But the Jesus of grace has His hand round about thee; In nearness to the Trinity farewell to thy pains, Christ stands before thee and peace is in His mind. Jenny, Ian, Fergus, and Marsali joined in, murmuring the final verse with him. Sleep, O sleep in the calm of all calm, Sleep, O sleep in the guidance of guidance, Sleep, O sleep in the love of all loves, Sleep, O beloved, in the Lord of life, Sleep, O beloved, in the God of life!— Diana Gabaldon
I wonder if he ever smelt bad. Maybe if he got all sweaty. No, that wasn't a good thing to think about either. I'd seen him all sweaty as he'd covered my body with his. There was good sex, and then, there was that night.— Donna Augustine
Jorgen!" Mathis strode up to Jorgen's side. "I hope you are not going to dance with this lovely swan all night." "I had hoped I would." Jorgen winked at her. Odette smiled at him.— Melanie Dickerson
One wanders through life as if wandering through a field in the dark of night, wearing a blindfold and very heavy shoes, with a poisonous toad waiting patiently beneath a clump of weeds, knowing full well that eventually you will step on him.— Daniel Handler
I actually remember very specifically the night that I launched Facebook at Harvard. I used to go out to get pizza with a friend who I did all my computer science homework with. And I remember talking to him and saying I am so happy we have this at Harvard because now our community can be connected but one day someone is going to build this for the world.— Mark Zuckerberg
Where are you staying tonight?" Caleb asked reasonably. Lily had no idea; her mind had been so full of Caleb that she hadn't thought about that. Nor had she collected her savings from the bank in Tylerville or bought the equipment she would need to wash clothes. Although the schoolmaster's cottage was a cozy little place, it would require some preparation before she could move in. "You could spend the night with me," he suggested when Lily didn't answer his question. "I've been staying in the barracks, but I have a house." She glared at him. "Forget I said anything," Caleb sighed. And he turned the buggy toward the Tibbet place.— Linda Lael Miller
David's brow unfurled and he crouched down on the floor with his daughter. 'Did you have a fun time with your aunt Izzy?' he asked in a high squeaky voice.— Lisa Lutz
Sydney stared at him blankly.
'Say good morning to Aunt Izzy.'
Sydney stared at me blankly.
'Remember me from last night?' I asked.
'Did you have fun?' Maggie asked.
'I wouldn't go that far,' I replied.
'I was actually talking to Sydney, Maggie said.
'Oh well, she'd probably agree. We had an okay time, didn't we, Sydney?'
'Why can't you talk to her like a normal person?' asked David.
'I'm the only one talking to her like a normal person. You sound like a eunuch.
Where was it that I read of how a condemned man, just before he died, said, or thought, that if he had to live on some high crag, on a ledge so small that there was no more than room for his two feet, with all about him the abyss, the ocean, eternal night, eternal solitude, eternal storm, and there he must remain, on a hand's-breadth of ground, all his life, a thousand years, through all eternity-it would be better to live so, than die within the hour? Only to live, to live! No matter how-only to live! ... How true! Lord, how true! How base men are! ... And he is worse who decries them on that account!— Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Damn it, it wasn't right. When she lay abed at night, she shouldn't see charging boars and violent tussles. She should dream of the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the texture of organdy and the distant strains of an orchestra playing a stately sarabande. As he had, all those freezing, damp nights.— Tessa Dare
As he would, in all the bitter years to come.
What had she called him, last night? An insufferable, arrogant cad. Yes, he was.
He wanted Cecily pining for him forever, dreaming she could tame him, yearning for the tender love he could never, ever give.
He wanted her to remember the old Luke, not fantasize about some uncivilized beast.
And if this "werestag" had eclipsed the memory of their kiss with his gory midnight rescue . . .
Luke just would have to do it one better, and give Cecily a new memory to occupy her thoughts. An experience she could never forget.
They didn't exchange a single word. But in the weeks that followed, Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen. Even in sensible school shoes, she shuffled as though barefoot, and the baggy apparel Mrs. Lisbon bought for her only increased her appeal, as though after undressing she had put on whatever was handy. In corduroys her thighs rubbed together, buzzing, and there was always at least one untidy marvel to unravel him: an untucked shirttail, a sock with a hole, a ripped seam showing underarm hair. She carted her books from class to class but never opened them. Her pens and pencils were as temporary as Cinderella's broom. When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night Trip Fontaine dreamed of being bitten by each one.— Jeffrey Eugenides
Touching him again reminded her of Versailles.She wanted to thank him for saving her from marrying the king. And to beg him never to hurt himself again as he'd done in Tibet. She wanted to ask what he'd dreamed about when he'd slept for days after she'd died in Prussia. She wanted to hear what he'd said to Luschka right before she died that awful night in Moscow. She wanted to pour out her love, and break down and cry,and let him know that every second of every lifetime she'd ben through,she had missed him with all her heart.— Lauren Kate
But he would have to say that it had been years since he had felt the way he had these past few days - so alive and energized. Anna was his first thought every morning and his last thought every night. Even in his sleep she seemed to drift across the dark background of his mind, radiating a soft, warm glow and a sense of quiet contentment. In fact, had he ever felt this way? Even in his youth? Maybe he had forgotten, but it seemed to him that all of this was new. His life was just beginning, and the heavy summer air felt rich with promise.— Anne Tyler
If it turned out she didn't love him back, he would still treasure the knowledge that he was capable of such feelings.
They found him late that night. He was floating head-down in the benjo, the long, deep trench of rain-churned shit that served as the communal toilet. Somehow he had dragged himself there from the hospital, where they had carried his broken body when the beating had finally ended. It was presumed that, on squatting, he had lost his balance and toppled in. With no strength to pull himself out, he had drowned.— Richard Flanagan
Yeah, okay. You're right. I was having dinner with Zombie Carl the other night. You know, steak, rare, and a bottle of vintage type A. He told me all his secrets, but too bad for you I promised him I wouldn't tell. In exchange I asked him to gather his best undead buddies and stalk me through my friend's yard. And oh, yeah, it was totally fine if they wanted to use me as an all-night-dinner buffet, because having organs is SO last year.— Gena Showalter
With Late Night Show I can begin the search for the real Stephen Colbert.I just hope I don't find him on Ashley Madison.— Stephen Colbert
Bullshit," says Viv. "Did you have your eyes open the other night in the pub? Mabe, I've never, ever seen him so happy and the way he was looking at you made even me melt. He's in love with you."— Lily Morton
"No, he isn't."
"Yes, he is. It's just unfortunate that he's a fuckwit as well.
A lofty breeze rushed by, threatening to brush him over the ridge. He looked with hardened eyes off into the East as the first sign of the sun broke the horizon with a distinct flash. He didn't flinch as the first rays of light shot at his eyes. He watched as the shadow of the valley gradually succumbed to the sweeping radiance of the long-awaited daylight. The dark of the night had had its turn. The morning sun had returned to once again claim its former glory.— Evan Grinde
That figure stood for a long time wholly in the light; this arose from a certain legendary dimness evolved by the majority of heroes, and which always veils the truth for a longer or shorter time; but to-day history and daylight have arrived.— Victor Hugo
That light called history is pitiless; it possesses this peculiar and divine quality, that, pure light as it is, and precisely because it is wholly light, it often casts a shadow in places where people had hitherto beheld rays; from the same man it constructs two different phantoms, and the one attacks the other and executes justice on it, and the shadows of the despot contend with the brilliancy of the leader. Hence arises a truer measure in the definitive judgments of nations. Babylon violated lessens Alexander, Rome enchained lessens Caesar, Jerusalem murdered lessens Titus, tyranny follows the tyrant. It is a misfortune for a man to leave behind him the night which bears his form.
I'll send a boy round to [the crazy farmer] Martin's and ask him to come by with a couple bottles."— Patrick Rothfuss
"Get five or six," Bast said. "It's getting cold at night. Winter's coming."
The innkeeper smiled. "I'm sure Martin will be flattered.
![Night With Him Sayings By Patrick Rothfuss: I'll send a boy round to [the crazy farmer] Martin's and ask him to come](https://www.greatsayings.net/images/night-with-him-sayings-by-patrick-rothfuss-168936.jpg "Night With Him Sayings By Patrick Rothfuss: I'll send a boy round to [the crazy farmer] Martin's and ask him to come")
Did I piss you off somehow? Because I'm having some trouble figuring you out."— Charles Sheehan-Miles
Crank shrugged and looked out the window again, then said, "I'm not an easy guy to figure out."
"I'm not interested enough to try. It's just that last night you were all, stay the hell away, and this morning you were friendly, and now I'm sitting in a car with an ice cube. I don't do moody."
"I didn't ask you to," he responded.
"Are you always such a dickhead?"
His eyes widened, and he looked over at me. Then he smirked and laughed out loud. We were still sitting at a red light, so I glared at him.
"You're actually really hot," he said. The smirk on his face widened a little.
"You're actually really an ass," I replied.
Foes and false friends are all around me, Lord Davos. They infest my city like roaches, and at night I feel them crawling over me." The fat man's fingers coiled into a fist, and all his chins trembled. "My son Wendel came to the Twins a guest. He ate Lord Walder's bread and salt, and hung his sword upon the wall to feast with his friends. And they murdered him. Murdered, I say, and may the Freys choke upon their fables. I drink with Jared, jape with Symond, promise Rhaegar the hand of my own beloved granddaughter ... but never think that means I have forgotten. The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home.— George R R Martin
Then Siddhartha had spent the night at his house with dancers and wine, had pretended to be superior to his companions, which he no longer was. He had drunk much wine and later after midnight he went to bed, tired and yet agitated, nearly in tears and in despair. In vain did he try to sleep. His heart was so full of misery, he felt he could no longer endure it. He was full of nausea which overpowered him like a distasteful wine, or music that was too sweet and superficial, or like the too sweet smile of the dancers or the too sweet perfume of their hair and breasts. But above all he was nauseated with himself, with his perfumed hair, with the smell of the wine from his mouth, with the soft, flabby appearance of his skin.— Hermann Hesse
Margaret herself hadn't known her body was a parish bell tolling at every heartbreak she heard of, and that night with Pete calmly sitting on the edge of her favorite chair, invading her private room with words this room was sealed from, she felt it just as a bell would. It struck her right inside, until her bronze skin rang out the news. Not of Pete's story, which had not even made him cry, but some other story she'd been trying not to tell herself. So she sat stiffly there and wept, clanging and clanging like a thing that tested its own breaking.— Andrew Sean Greer
He who the sword of heaven will bear— William Shakespeare
Should be as holy as severe;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go;
More nor less to others paying
Than by self-offences weighing.
Shame to him whose cruel striking
Kills for faults of his own liking!
Twice treble shame on Angelo,
To weed my vice and let his grow!
O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side!
How may likeness made in crimes,
Making practise on the times,
To draw with idle spiders' strings
Most ponderous and substantial things!
Craft against vice I must apply:
With Angelo to-night shall lie
His old betrothed but despised;
So disguise shall, by the disguised,
Pay with falsehood false exacting,
And perform an old contracting.
I'd been around other weres and never tasted a single one before Lucas passed me on the street last night. It was more than a little disconcerning. Lucas had told me it was an indication of the soul-bond I shared with him, so why could I taste Desmond? Surely it wasn't possible to be soul-bonded to two people. And why did I suddenly want a margarita?— Sierra Dean
If someone told me I could hang out in da Vinci's studio while he painted the Mona Lisa or go up on Brian's roof with him at night - I'm on the roof— Jandy Nelson
What's the deal with the bossman?" Urian asked him.— Sherrilyn Kenyon
Alexion shrugged. "I don't know. He came in last night with a book, went to his room to read, I suppose, and then he came out here this morning and has been playing ... those songs ever since."
Those songs were ballads, which Acheron never played. God-smack, Sex Pistols, TSOL, Judas Priest, but not ...
"Is that ... " Urian physically cringed before he spat out the name, "Julio Iglesias?"
"Enrique."
Urian grimaced in horror. "I didn't even know he knew any mellow shit. Dear gods ... is he ill?"
"I don't know. In nine thousand years, I've never seen him like this before."
Urian shuddered. "I'm beginning to get scared. This has to be a sign of the Apocalypse. If he breaks out into Air Supply, I say we sneeak up on him, drag him outside and beat the holy shit out of him.
It is the sense of mystery that, in my opinion, drives the true scientist; the same force, blindly seeing, deafly hearing, unconsciously remembering, that drives the larva into the butterfly. If he has not experienced, at least a few times in his life, this cold shudder down his spine, this confrontation with an immense, invisible face whose breath moves him to tears, he is not a scientist. The blacker the night, the brighter the light.— Erwin Chargaff
Now if we're finished jousting over sex-"— Nora Roberts
"Darling,I haven't even picked up my lance."
"That's a very weak double entendre."
She had him there. "It's early.why don't you tell me why i'm having breakfast with you."
"I was up all night."
The comment that occurred to him was not only weak,but crude.He let it pass.
Does it scare you?" said Clare. "Living in a house with guns?"— Brigid Kemmerer
Hunter smiled. "It's not like I wake up in the middle of the night to find them staring down at me."
"Shut up." She gave him a light shove. "No, I mean, are you ever worried you'll accidentally get shot?"
"You mean, when I catch the assault rifle raiding the refrigerator? Like maybe it'll turn on me?"
Her breath caught again. "You have an assault rifle in your house?"
"Sure. It's partial to lime Jell-O.
She should let one of the gentlemen with their little wager and steal a kiss. That would help her cause far more than beating them.— Sabrina Jeffries
But what if Mr. Pinter won? What if he kissed her as he had last night? It would be just the sort of thing he'd do, to put off her suitors by making it appear she had an interest elsewhere. That perhaps he had an interest in her, too.
Perhaps he does.
She snorted. The only interest he had was in ruining her life. He still reported to her about her suitors. He would much rather be here, trying to upset all her plans, than doing his job.
He shot well, though. She'd give him that. The man knew his way around a firearm.
He was out there alone with himself, composed, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart to the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations and the invisible splendor of God, opening his soul to the thoughts that fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart as the flowers of night emit their perfume, lit like a lamp in the center of the starry night, expanding in ecstasy the midst of creation's universal radiance, perhaps he could not have told what was happening in his own mind; he felt something floating away from him, and something descending upon him, mysterious exchanges of the soul with the universe.— Victor Hugo
fucking stupid to park there to begin with." "Usually the bigger worry is regular people and the media thinking they can poke around. But no marked car? Okay. There goes your deterrent. Have it your way. You got any idea why the entrance lights weren't on last night?" Marino said. "I only know that they weren't. It's in my report." "They're on now." Gusts of wind hit them like invisible waves of a stormy surf, and Marino felt as if he was about to be washed off the roof. His hands were stiff, and he pulled his sleeves over them. "Then my guess would be the killer turned them off last night," Morales said. "Kind of a strange thing to do once he's already inside the building." "Maybe he turned them off when he was leaving. So nobody would see him, in case someone was walking by, driving by." "Then you're probably not talking about Oscar doing it. Since he never left.— Patricia Cornwell
Are you sure you do not want to be inside meeting all the countesses and duchesses?" "We can go back inside in a little while. It is pleasant here." Alone with you. She could stay here with him all night, allowing herself to imagine what it would be like if he kissed her, if they were free to fall in love. If only she were truly a swan princess and he were truly a prince.— Melanie Dickerson
Prophet's neck corded with tension, and he never took his eyes from Tom's face, not even when he broke apart and came so hard it was like he was shattering. "Tommy . . ." A breath, a whisper even, as Tom came on the heels of Prophet's climax like a scream in the night, hot and fast like an electric jolt that stunned him senseless. Prophet's hand broke its hold, curled around Tom's neck, pulling him down so their faces were close, his body shuddering as Tom's hips jerked erratically. His last thought was that their hands were still clasped tight together.— S.E. Jakes
His Malina was a mystery, a lovely and welcome mystery. He couldn't resist smoothing his palm over her silky hair. Stroking her like that, over and over again filled him with peace. Concerns about his mill and Steafan and all that Wilhelm might expect from him floated away on a cloud of contentment. Until he felt warm wetness on his skin where her face nestled. "Are ye weeping?" "No," she said, but her voice caught on a sob. "There," he said, "now we have both told a lie to the other. We are even." Whatever had her distraught, her heart wasn't so heavy that she couldn't give a small chuckle. "Maybe I'm crying just a little," she said. "It's fine, though. Don't worry. Get some sleep." "I canna. My da told me a good husband doesna lay his head down for the night if his household isna in order and his wife isna content." "He sounds like a very responsible man. Like father, like son." No one had given him as much to feel proud over as this woman.— Jessi Gage
Take your grandpappy--goin' out there is about the only recreation he gets. He'll go out some rainy night with his nighties flappin' around his legs, and like as not when you come out in the mornin' you'll find him prone in the mud, or maybe skidded off one of them curves and wound up in the corn crib.— Charles Sale
He found himself one night in a bar standing beside a gorgeous woman. "Would you be willing to sleep with me for $1 million?" he asked her. She looked him over. There wasn't much to see - but still, $1 million! She agreed to go back to his room. "All right then, " he said. "Would you be willing to sleep with me for $100?" "A hundred dollars!" she shot back. "What do you think I am, a prostitute?" "We've already established that. Now we're just negotiating the price.— Steven D. Levitt
In the rational light of day, he could tell himself that it was better this way, for both of them. The past was the past, nothing but memories buried, and the pain of losing something precious was but brief. Most of the time he could make himself believe it, but sometimes in the night, with no company but his own echoing thoughts, the past would sneak up on him.— Kyra Dune
Cam looked away, laughing under his breath. "Okay. How about Wednesday?"— J. Lynn
"This Wednesday?"
"Nope."
"The following Wednesday?"
"Yep."
Counting the days down, I ended up frowning. "Wait. That's the Wednesday before Thanksgiving."
"It is."
I stared at him. "Cam, arn't you going home?"
"I am."
"When? After the movies, in the middle of the night, or Thanksgiving morning?"
He shook his head. "See, the drive-in movie theater is just outside of my hometown. About ten miles out."
I leaned back against the couch, confused."I don't understand."
Cam finished the hot chocolate and twisted toward me. He scooted over so only a handful of inches seperated us. "If you go on this date with me, you're going to have to go home with me.
He rolled in his bed, twisting the sheets, grappling with a problem years too big for him, awake in the night like a single sentinel on picket. And sometime after midnight, he slept, too, and then only the wind was awake, prying at the hotel and hooting in its gables under the bright gimlet gaze of the stars.— Stephen King
To Canadians, everyone is equal. Joni Mitchell is interchangeable with a secretary at open-mic night. Frank Gehry is no greater than a hack pumping out McMansions on AutoCAD. John Candy is no funnier than Uncle Lou when he gets a couple of beers in him. No wonder the only Canadians anyone's ever heard of are the ones who have gotten the hell out. Anyone with talent who stayed would be flattened under an avalanche of equality.— Maria Semple
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,— Walt Whitman
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it
should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank
or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work,
or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his
boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat
deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the
hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his
way in the morning, or at noon intermission
or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the
young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or
washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to
none else,
The day what belongs to the day - at night the
party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious
songs.
I looked. George Shearing. And as always he leaned his blind head on his pale hand, all ears opened like the ears of an elephant, listening to the American sounds and mastering them for his own English summer's-night use. Then they urged him to get up and play. He did. He played innumerable choruses with amazing chords that mounted higher and higher till the sweat splashed all over the piano and everybody listened in awe and fright. They led him off the stand after an hour. He went back to his dark corner, old God Shearing, and the boys said, 'There ain't nothin left after that.— Jack Kerouac
Maybe you're sleeping and I suppose I could just say this in the morning, but now I can't sleep and I'm just lying here so I might as well get it over with, and well ... I'm sorry about this afternoon, J.D. The first spill honestly was an accident, but the second ... okay, that was completely uncalled for. I'm, um, happy to pay for the dry cleaning. And, well ... I guess that's it. Although you really might want to rethink leaving your jacket on your chair. I'm just saying. Okay, then. That's what they make hangers for. Good. Fine. Good-bye.— Julie James
J.D. heard the beep, signaling the end of the message, and he hung up the phone. He thought about what Payton had said - not so much her apology, which was question-ably mediocre at best - but something else.
She thought about him while lying in bed.
Interesting.
Later that night, having been asleep for a few hours, J.D. shot up in bed
He suddenly remembered - her shoe.
Oops.
The feeling that was born that night, how could i describe it?Words like love or lust just don't seem right. I may call it jealousy, or may be anxiety and moreover, need. Even now I'm anxious at times because when I am with Ren, everything around feels like a dream. That was how Ren turned my boring life into an illusion, and that was too much for no matter how hard i tried, it seemed I could never catch him.— Ai Yazawa
For a while we talked about things I've forgotten now. Or maybe we were silent for a while, me sitting at the foot of his bed, him stretched out with his book, the two of us sneaking looks at each other, listening to the sound the elevator made, as if we were in a dark room or lost in the country at night, just listening to the sound of horses.— Roberto Bolano
I was lucky that my parents really didn't care what I did. I was lucky that their bedroom was across the upstairs landing, with the bathroom on my side of the house so they couldn't hear me hop in the shower every night regardless of the time. I was lucky they weren't observant, but I wouldn't have cared anyway. My only concern was making sure I was always physically ready for Him to come to me— Sarah Ann Walker
Make time for one another. Don't forget about those date nights. Put on a sexy dress and some sexy high heels and have a great night and enjoy each other. Also, incorporate your husband. Get him involved and let him know how important he is with taking care of your joy.— Tia Mowry
My God, Mace was all man, the kind of man every warm-blooded woman would love to take home for the night, tie to her bed and let loose on. Sitting this close to him, my mind conjured up a long list of things I could do, just with my mouth.— Lola Stark
The flimsy things broke apart as they crashed on the sidewalk, sheets of papers fluttering off like doves released from cages.— J.R. Ward
As he turned back to Selena, he braced himself, trying to think of a way to reassure her
Au contraire.
Selena was alive with excitement, her fangs flashing thanks to a huge smile, a giggling laugh bubbling out of her as she hung on to the door.
"Faster!" she yelled at Fritz. "Let's go even faster!"
"As you wish, mistress!"
A fresh roar from that massive piece of German engineering under the hood sent them careening not just down the sidewalk, but right up to the very edge of the laws of physics.
Selena looked over at him. "This is the best night ever!
Yet what happened in fact? In the middle of the night John woke up and saw me sleeping beside him with no doubt a look of peace on my face, even of bliss, bliss is not unattainable in this world. He saw me - saw me as I was at that moment - took fright, hurriedly strapped the armour back over his heart, this time with chains and a double padlock, and stole out into the darkness.— J.M. Coetzee
I'm serious, Harry, don't go. But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop him.— J.K. Rowling
That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.
And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.
Wow," he muttered, his voice choked with tears. "Here we are, the last night and all, and I can't think of anything to say."— Julie Kagawa
I pressed my palm to his cheek, feeling the moisture beneath my fingers, and smiled at him. "How about 'goodbye'?"
"Nah." Puck shook his head. "I make a point of never saying goodbye, princess. Makes it sound like you're never coming back."
"Puck - "
He bent down and kissed me softly on the lips. Ash stiffened, arms tightening around me, but Puck slid out of reach before either of us could react. "Take care of her, ice-boy," he said, smiling as he backed up several paces. "I guess I won't be seeing you, either, will I? It was ... fun, while it lasted."
"I'm sorry we didn't get to kill each other," Ash said quietly.
Puck chuckled and bent to retrieve his fallen dagger. "My one and only regret. Too bad, that would have been an epic fight." Straightening, he gave us that old, stupid grin, raising a hand in farewell. "See you around, lovebirds.
The idea of going back to basketball drills made her stomach tighten, but she stood up on her tiptoes and leaned into Jay, whispering against his cheek. "I got your note last night. Would've been better if I'd have found you in my bed instead."— Kimberly Derting
Jay groaned and grabbed her by the shoulders. There was the hint of accusation buried behind his breathy chuckle as he set her away from him. "You're playing with fire, Vi. You shouldn't tease me at school. Besides, I think if I hid in your room, your father - check that, your mother - would skin me alive."
Violet heard the coach shouting her name, and she knew she'd be getting a demerit for slacking off. But she didn't care.
She flashed him her most wolfish smile. "Next time, you should totally take that chance. It could've been fun," she promised before sauntering away.
We saw no bugs or reptiles to speak of, and so I was thinking of saying in print, in a general way, that there were none at all; but one night after I had gone to bed, the Reverend came into my room carrying something, and asked, "Is this your boot?" I said it was, and he said he had met a spider going off with it. Next morning he stated that just at dawn the same spider raised his window and was coming in to get a shirt, but saw him and fled. I inquired, "Did he get the shirt?" "No." "How did you know it was a shirt he was after?" "I could see it in his eye.— Mark Twain
Nanabozho also had the task to learn how to live from his elder brothers and sisters. When he needed food, he noticed what the animals were eating and copied them. Heron taught him to gather wild rice. One night by the creek, he saw a little ring-tailed animal carefully washing his food with delicate hands. He thought, "Ahh, I am supposed to put only clean food in my body."— Robin Wall Kimmerer
Nanabozho was counseled by many plants too, who shared gifts, and learned to treat them always with the greatest respect. After all, plants were here first on the earth and have had a long time to figure things out. Together, all the beings, both plants and animals, taught him what he needed to know. The Creator had told him it would be this way.
A cemetery?" I chuckle, but the pitch is a bit higher than I expected. "At night? With a full moon? Um ... did you see any, uh, zombies, you, while you were there?"— Vaughn R. Demont
Shiko blinks at me a few times. "No"
I slump in relief. "Thank God. I mean, I don't want to be the first to die. The funny guy always dies first, for shock value, you know. Rourke would get killed next, because it's be a heroic sacrifice or something." I motion to Shiko. "You'd live, though, unless you had sex."
... Shiko has the look of an addled kitten, complete with head tilt. Rourke sighs and leans toward her, embarrassed.
'You'll have to excuse him. According to his mother he has an irrational fear of something called the zombie apocalypse."
"It's not irrational!
Alaine frowned at him for a moment. "Are you asking me if I need feminine products?"— Kele Moon
"I'm telling you to plan ahead," Nova said with a deliberate look at her. "Anything you think you're gonna need, I'll pick up."
"Wow"-Alaine pulled back in surprise- "I'm sort of impressed right now. You ARE a progressive gangster."
"Just text me," Nova said as he threw up his hand. "I'm leaving."
"She's not going to need feminine products," Tino said with a bark of laughter. "I guarantee you she's pregnant after last night.
Every sunset which I witness inspires me with the desire to go to a west as distant and as fair as that into which the Sun goes down. He appears to migrate westward daily and tempt us to follow him. He is the Great Western Pioneer whom the nations follow. We dream all night of those mountain ridges in the horizon, though they may be of vapor only, which were last gilded by his rays.— Henry David Thoreau
Why? What kind of man would pleasure his woman by hurting her.' Angus paced across the path. 'Tis a man's duty, nay, his privilege, to give his woman all the pleasure she can bear. She should be panting and writhing with pleasure.'— Kerrelyn Sparks
Emma remained silent, staring at him. Did she not believe him?
He walked toward her. 'A real man would take all night if need be to make sure his woman was fully sated. She should be screaming that she canna endure any more.'
Emma's eyes widened.
'It should be a man's greatest pleasure to see his woman shuddering in the throes of passion.'
She took a deep breath and shifted her weight from one foot to another.
He paced back and forth. 'Only when she is begging for him should a man see to his own needs. And he should never, ever harm her.' He stopped in front of her 'Am I totally wrong in this?'
'No,' she squeaked.
Elias was so close that she could not even draw a breath before his lips were on hers. ... She could not deny that she wanted him with all her heart, in wanton ways and practical ways, day and night. Almost losing him was far scarier than the life-threatening situations she had faced on her own.— Evelyn Pryce
Growing up in Texas and Oklahoma, Ben Johnson was more famous than John Wayne to some of us. I knew him. I worked with him on a low budget film years ago, and we'd sit around at night while waiting for a shot.— Bill Paxton
It is better just to get on with the business of living and minding your own business and maybe, if God likes the way you do things, he may just let you flower for a day or a night. But don't go pestering and begging and telling him all your stupid little sins, that way you will spoil his day.— Bryce Courtenay
You still don't get it," Dawn ran a hand through her soft, blond curles. "Yes, Jagger would do anything to protect you. But he'll also stand with you. That night Axle crashed my birthday party and you pulled your gun on him, Jagger was beside you. He could have taken over, but he didn't. And that was a hell of a message. You had his support and he would kill anyone who hurt you, but it was your damn show.— Sarah Castille
Go to dinner with me?" His voice whispers against my ear. I start to shake my head when his fingertip lightly traces the birdcage tattoo on my arm. My eyes shut at the sensation. His touch. "I dream about you almost every night." Join the club, buddy, I want to tell him. I dream about me every night, too ... well, until I met him. Now I dream too damn much about him. "Just one date and I will leave you alone if you never want to see me again. Deal?" I open my eyes to gaze into his. There are too many things happening at once. Everything within me says to tell him no. Nothing good can come of this. I know what I have to tell him. "Dinner, not a date," I say, looking him square in the eyes. Holy hell! What did you just do, Keller? Really? Seriously? He grins, not hiding his happiness at my words. I step away, allowing him time to button his shirt up. "Dinner then dessert, and, Keller, it will definitely be a date," he says,— Nicole Reed
I don't reply. Surely Tucker wouldn't bring someone back to a room knowing that I'll be in the bed too, first shot. He wouldn't do anything with her after last night, this morning and this afternoon, second shot. Although he is all over her and has been since we got here, third shot. Maybe I didn't drop my knickers quick enough, fourth shot. He's probably laughing at me for everything I told him about the dream and stuff I wince and slam the now empty jager bomb glass down.— R.S. Burnett
He'd given up his mortality, his soul, for this moment, this second chance, and if she fell in love with him again, he needed to know it was real.— Lisa Kessler
I wait for the fist of devestation, the collapse of a year's worth of hopes, the roar of sadness. And I do feel it. The pain of losing him. Or the idea of him. But along with that pain is something else, something quiet at first, so I have to strain for it. but when I do, I hear the sound of a door quietly clicking shut. And then the most amazing thing happens: The night is calm, but I feel a rush of wind, as if a thousand other doors have just simultaneously flung open.— Gayle Forman
I give one last glance towards Willem. Then I turn to Wolfgang. "Finished," I say.
But I suspect the opposite is true. That really, I'm just beginning.
Izzi: Remember Moses Morales?— Darren Aronofsky
Tom Verde: Who?
Izzi: The Mayan guide I told you about.
Tom Verde: From your trip.
Izzi: Yeah. The last night I was with him, he told me about his father, who had died. Well Moses wouldn't believe it.
Tom Verde: Izzi ...
Izzi: [embraces Tom] No, no. Listen, listen. He said that if they dug his father's body up, it would be gone. They planted a seed over his grave. The seed became a tree. Moses said his father became a part of that tree. He grew into the wood, into the bloom. And when a sparrow ate the tree's fruit, his father flew with the birds. He said ... death was his father's road to awe. That's what he called it. The road to awe. Now, I've been trying to write the last chapter and I haven't been able to get that out of my head!
Tom Verde: Why are you telling me this?
Izzi: I'm not afraid anymore, Tommy.
In the middle of the night, I was startled awake by the sharp smell of tequila. My eyes snapped open. The heath bush I'd transplanted from an alley off Divisadero stretched its needled arms over my head. Between the new growth and glowing bell-shaped blossoms, I saw the outline of a man bend over and snap a stem of my helenium. His tequila bottle leaned over as he did, alcohol splashing out of the top and landing on the shrub concealing my body. A girl behind him reached for the bottle. She sat down on the ground with her back to me and tilted her face to the sky.— Vanessa Diffenbaugh
Do you know how many guys I've been with?" Kyle asked, meeting her eyes for just a moment. "So many. You know why? Because in that moment, just before you let them fuck you, you're the center of their universe. It lasts just seconds, but I like that feeling. I crave that feeling.— Debra Anastasia
"This morning - last night? Whenever it was, standing in that church in front of him? I had that feeling. I was the center of his universe. And we had all our clothes on. That feeling lasted for hours." Kyle closed her eyes as if to transport herself back there.
The Lake— Edgar Allan Poe
In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide world a spot
The which I could not love the less-
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
And the tall pines that towered around.
But when the Night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot, as upon all,
And the mystic wind went by
Murmuring in melody-
Then-ah then I would awake
To the terror of the lone lake.
Yet that terror was not fright,
But a tremulous delight-
A feeling not the jewelled mine
Could teach or bribe me to define-
Nor Love-although the Love were thine.
Death was in that poisonous wave,
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his lone imagining-
Whose solitary soul could make
An Eden of that dim lake.
If you want to do his soul good, why do you continually obstruct him? It hardly makes him a better man. Do you never think that, if you had bowed to the king's wishes years ago, if you had entered a convent and allowed him to remarry, he would never have broken with Rome? There would have been no need. Sufficient doubt was cast upon your marriage for you to retire with a good grace. You would have been honoured by all. But now the titles you cling to are empty. Henry was a good son of Rome. You drove him to this extremity. You, not he, split Christendom. And I expect that you know that, and that you think about it in the silence of the night.— Hilary Mantel
Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.— Thomas Hardy
The low thrum of Dom's voice sent her pulse into a dance. Devil take him! She'd just seen him last night; his mere voice shouldn't make her swoon, for pity's sake. It shouldn't make her remember the soft words he'd whispered as he'd caressed her and kissed her and swept her into madness ...— Sabrina Jeffries
What was wrong with her? She wasn't letting that man sweep her anywhere, not as long as he only wanted to sweep her out of his way.
Now if only she could be sure why.
She strained to listen. For a while, the gentlemen were too intent on eating to say much of interest. But once the clink of silver ended and the clink of glasses began, their tongues loosened.
Thank heaven for brandy. She could smell it all the way over here.
I once asked Randy how he knew that he had fallen in love with his girlfriend, Amy, and he just looked at me like it was the hardest question in the world. I expected some floral, florid explanation, about the air lightening and flute music filling his ears. This relationship that had him so transfixed - I expected a masterpiece of sentiment, one that would make me so happy for him and so empty inside. Instead he just turned to me and said,— David Levithan
"The minute I knew I was in love was the minute when there was no question about it. One night I was lying in the dark, looking at her looking at me, and it just was there, undeniable."
There is no question about it.
Charm's a very dangerous thing. Lucien, tell me," Stephen said thoughtfully. "This respect for shamans, this inviolability ... "— K.J. Charles
"Mmm?"
"Well, I don't know if you remember, but some three weeks ago, you tied me to your bedposts and spent two hours subjecting me to acts of unimaginable depravity. And considering you call me a shaman
"
"I take issue with 'unimaginable'," Crane interrupted, sudden heat and light rushing through him. "I imagine those acts in detail every night you're not there. In fact, I've imagined quite a few more that I have every intention of subjecting you to when I get a chance.
You didn't call me last night."— Sara Zarr
"Was I supposed to?"
He looked down. "Just figured now that you had my number ... Kept my phone on all night, just in case." He laughed. "I started to worry that it didn't work. Actually went out to a pay phone to test it."
"You could have called me. That way you left me after lunch on Saturday, I figured ... " I ended there and shrugged, not wanting to be mad at him or get into any kind of argument. "Anyway, after auditions I went to the gym with Steph, and I'm so behind in my homework it's not even funny." Of course I'd punched in his number about eighteen times without actually ever calling him. I wasn't sure what I'd say, and worried about how I'd feel if he didn't answer.
"I shouldn't have left like that on Saturday."
"Yeah, well." I waved my hands. "Don't worry about it. I have to finish getting ready. There's cereal and stuff ... just make yourself at home.
You ate something that disagreed with you last night, didn't you?' I said, by way of giving him a chance to slide out of it if he wanted to. But he wouldn't have it at any price.— P.G. Wodehouse
'No!' he replied firmly. 'I didn't do anything of the kind. I drank too much. Much too much. Lots and lots too much. And, what's more, I'm going to do it again. I'm going to do it every night. If ever you see me sober, old top,' he said, with a kind of holy exaltation, 'tap me on the shoulder and say "Tut! Tut!" and I'll apologise and remedythe defect.
It had actually been a year since I'd finally broken up with Glen. I'd moved in with him after two dates (I would have made a great lesbian) and things had gone downhill quickly. How well I remembered our last morning together. He'd woken me early one morning by hitting me in the face with his cock and demanding a before-work blowjob. Since he'd been out all night without me and the dick he'd just assaulted me with smelled of eau de lubricant, I'd refused to open my mouth. I'd given his balls a twist I hoped he was still feeling and headed back to Gran's.— Nick Pageant
There was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind, for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse. He had often said to me: I am not long for this world and I had thought his words idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism. But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.— James Joyce
He raised a hand in response and tossed the ear of corn into the wagon. Then he— Bonnie Dee
returned to his fantasy, imagining himself running the livery instead of working there, making the decisions, placing orders, selecting new horses, agreeing to board others, and
hiring a boy to muck out the stalls and pitch hay.
In his daydream, he no longer lived in the back room. He came home at night to a small house he'd bought with his earnings. Inside, a woman waited for him. A wife. In his fantasy her hair was as golden as the ear of corn he tossed into the wagon and her
eyes as blue as the cloudless sky overhead. Catherine smiled at him and he could hear as well as see her say his name. "Jim! Welcome home.
So he bought tickets to the Greyhound and they climbed, painfully, inch by inch and with the knowledge that, once they reached the top, there would be one breath-taking moment when the car would tip precariously into space, over an incline six stories steep and then plunge, like a plunging plane. She buried her head against him, fearing to look at the park spread below. He forced himself to look: thousands of little people and hundreds of bright little stands, and over it all the coal-smoke pall of the river factories and railroad yards. He saw in that moment the whole dim-lit city on the last night of summer; the troubled streets that led to the abandoned beaches, the for-rent signs above overnight hotels and furnished basement rooms, moving trolleys and rising bridges: the cagework city, beneath a coalsmoke sky.— Nelson Algren
Don't waste your time trying to look all bad at me. See, I know you, man," Howard said. "School Bus Sam. Mr. Fireman. You go all heroic, but then you disappear. Don't you? It kind of comes and goes with you. Everyone last night is all, 'Where's Sam? Where's Sam?' And I had to say, 'Well, kids, Sam is off with Astrid the Genius because Sam can't be hanging out with regular people like us. Sam has to go off with his hot blond girlfriend.'"— Michael Grant
"She's not my girlfriend," Sam said, and instantly regretted it.
Howard laughed, delighted to have provoked him. "See, Sam, you always got to be in your own little world, too good for everyone, while me and Captain Orc and our boys here, we're always going to be around. You step away, and we step up.
The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the picturesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky. Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to Death's dominion. But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden of the night, straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled under it.— Charles Dickens
He liked seeing the world through her eyes. The night, to him, was rather ordinary, overlaid with London's crowded odors and a damp that promised a deeply unlovely fog in the near future. But she preferred to consider the commonest patch of grass and the most unremarkable clump of trees worthy of a Constable canvas - in which case this night could very well have graced the ceiling of a great cathedral.— Sherry Thomas
If he goes for my nose again, I fink I'll hang him up by his little balls,' one of the Guard said, getting to his feet. Froi tried to ignore the mockery.— Melina Marchetta
'Nothing little about me,' he grunted. 'Don't take my word for it, Hindley. Ask your wife. She seemed happy last night, you know, with the size and all.
Jacob remembered it distinctly because it was his twenty-second birthday, and he was annoyed at being awakened by his uncle at 1:17 in the morning. But Avi had no time to be sentimental. He ordered Jacob to hightail it with him through a bone-chilling winter night to get to some safe house they'd never been to before and make it there by the top of the hour. Jacob had been hoping to sleep in a little and maybe eat a half-decent meal before sitting down to plan the sabotage of a radio tower near Antwerp, an operation scheduled for the coming weekend. But none of that was to be.— Joel C. Rosenberg
But one day I will wear him down, I will catch him off guard, and he will lose the energy for the nightly battle, and he will get in bed with me. In the middle of the night, I'll turn to face him and press myself against him. I'll hold myself to him like a climbing, coiling vine until I have invaded every part of him and made him mine.— Gillian Flynn
For each man kills the thing he loves yet each man does not die— Oscar Wilde
he does not die a death of shame on a day of dark disgrace
nor have a noose about his neck, nor a cloth upon his face
nor drop feet foremost through the floor into an empty space
He does not sit with silent men who watch him night and day
Who watch him when he tries to weep and when he tries to pray
Who watch him lest himself should rob the prison of its prey
he had developed a system that enabled him to sleep in clean sheets every night without the trouble of bed changing. He'd been proposing the system to Sarah for years, but she was so set in her ways. What he did was strip the mattress of all linens, replacing them with a giant sort of envelope made from one of the seven sheets he had folded and stitched together on the sewing machine. He thought of this invention as a Macon Leary Body Bag. A body bag required no tucking in, was unmussable, easily changeable, and the perfect weight for summer nights. In winter he would have to devise something warmer, but he couldn't think of winter yet. He was barely making it from one day to the next as it was. At moments - while he was skidding— Anne Tyler
The city man, in his neon-and-mazda glare, knows nothing of nature's midnight. His electric lamps surround him with synthetic sunshine. They push back the dark. They defend him from the realities of the age-old night.— Edwin Way Teale
Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds,— Alfred Tennyson
At last he beat his music out.
There lives more faith in honest doubt,
Believe me, than in half the creeds.
He fought his doubts and gather'd strength,
He would not make his judgment blind,
He faced the spectres of the mind
And laid them: thus he came at length
To find a stronger faith his own;
And Power was with him in the night,
Which makes the darkness and the light,
And dwells not in the light alone,
