A Quote by Cassandra Clare
Yes, she's bleeding to death upstairs, but I thought I'd avoid telling you right away, because I like to draw the suspense out.
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Will only looked at her. There had been light in his eyes on the stairs, as he'd locked the door, when he'd kissed her--a brilliant, joyous light. And it was going now, fading like the last breath of someone dying. She thought of Nate, bleeding to death in her arms. She had been powerless then, to help him. As she was now. She felt as if she were watching the life bleed out of Will Herondale, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She nodded... and was about to turn away. Then, as if she thought better of it, she reached out and grabbed his arm. "Jack." "Yes?" "I. . ." she faltered. She knew what she wanted to tell him, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. It turned out she didn't have to. Jack put a hand to his heart and nodded. "I feel the same way about you.
Suspense-is Hostiler than Death-Death- tho soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increase- Suspense-does not conclude-.
My 7-year-old daughter is not shy of telling me she can draw better than me, and she's right.
This is our story to tell. You’d think for all the reading I do, I would have thought about this before, but I haven’t. I’ve never once thought about the interpretative, the story telling aspect of life, of my life. I always felt like I was in a story, yes, but not like I was the author of it, or like I had any say in its telling whatsoever.
We were telling, and frankly the media didn't take it seriously, during the time when we tried to point out that Debbie Wasserman Schultz was biased. She scheduled debates at times that didn't draw huge audiences, I believe, and many believe, because she didn't want Bernie to have a larger exposure to the voters.
It's a twin type of telepathy. My sister and I, we share the same DNA, so on paper, we're the same person. I knew she was pregnant, like, right away - it's so crazy - but I asked her, and she said yes.
That’s what death did, it treated you like a child, like everything you had ever thought and done and cared about was just a child’s game, to be crumpled up and thrown away when it was over. It didn’t matter. Death didn’t respect you. Death thought you were bullshit, and it wanted to make sure you knew it.
When I asked my da how ye knew which was the right woman, he told me when the time came, I'd have no doubt. And I didn't. When I woke in the dark under that tree on the road to Leoch, with you sitting on my chest, cursing me for bleeding to death, I said to myself 'Jamie Fraser, for all ye canna see what she looks like, and for all she weights as much as a good draft horse, this is the woman.
Most American Hispanics don't belong to one race, either. I keep telling kids that, when filling out forms, they should put "yes" to everything - yes, I am Chinese; yes, I am African; yes, I am white; yes, I am a Pacific Islander; yes, yes, yes - just to befuddle the bureaucrats who think we live separately from one another.
She's always bragging about the dumbest stuff. The other day she was telling me, she's like, 'You know I can still fit in my wedding dress.' I was like, 'Oh my god, who cares, right?' I mean it is weird that she's the same size now as she was when she was 8 months pregnant.
"Aren't you frightened?" Somehow I expected her to say no, to say something wise like a grownup would, or to explain that we can't presume to understand the Lord's plan. She looked away. "Yes," she finally said, "I'm frightened all the time." "Then why don't you act like it?" "I do. I just do it in private." "Because you don't trust me?" "No," she said, "because I know you're frightened, too."
They asked us to draw pictures of what we thought men and women look like naked and so I was like, "Get away, I'm doing my weird homework, drawing a naked man and woman." And I can't even draw. That's all I remember. I have no memory.
Yes, you have to be brave enough to take steps that your heart is telling you to take. Because when I decided to go into cricket, not one person told me I was making the right move. At that time, nobody thought the IPL would become so big. I was nervous at that time, because suddenly I was in an uncomfortable spot.
Life is a velvet crowbar hitting you over the head, youre bleeding syrup amour, bleeding to death.
A bus came. The soldier turned away from her and walked toward it. Tatiana watched him. Even his walk was from another world; the step was too sure, the stride too long, yet somehow it all seemed right, looked right, felt right. It was like stumbling on a book you thought you had lost. Ah, yes, there it is.
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