A Quote by Jane Austen
May I ask you what these questions tend?' 'Merely to the illustration of your character,' said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. 'I am trying to make it out.' 'And what is your success?' She shook her head. 'I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.
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Do you know what they call themselves, all these people?" Alyss shook her head. How could she know? "Alyssians." Bibwit spelled it out. Her heart gave a little jump. Alyssians? No, they ask too much of me. "I don't think I'm ready for all of this," she said.
She snuggled back under the blanket with me, turned toward me so that she could rest her head on my chest. “I hear your heart,” she said. “Do you check every once in a while, just to make sure I’m not undead?
You really love her don't you," she said. With all my heart." She looked as sad as I'd ever seen her. What's your heart telling you to do?" I don't know." Maybe", she said gently,"You're trying to hard to hear it.
Summerset, don't you ever sleep?" "It's Lieutenant Dallas. She's--" Roarke dropped his briefcase, grabbed Summerset by the lapels. "Has she been hurt? Where is she?" "A nightmare. She was screaming." Summerset lost his usual composure and dragged a hand over his hair. "She won't cooperate. I was about to call your doctor. I left her in her private suite." As Roarke pushed him aside, Summerset grabbed his arm. "Roarke, you should have told me what had been done to her." Roarke merely shook his head and kept going. "I'll take care of her.
Karrin smiled faintly and shook her head. "He always said you knew ghosts. You're sure it was really him?" Mort eyed her. "Me and everyone else, yeah." Karrin scowled and stared into the middle distance. Mort frowned and then his expression softened. "You didn't want it to be his ghost. Did you?" Murphy shook her head slowly, but said nothing. "You needed everyone to be wrong about it. Because if it really was his ghost," Mort said, "it means that he really is dead." Murphy's face...just crumpled. Her eyes overflowed and she bowed her head. Her body shook in silence.
Take it off first, soldier." He looked at her suspiciously. "Take what off?" "Your clothes. Entertain the troops." "My clothes?" He frowned. "I was sort of thinking you might want to do that for me." She shook her head and leaned back on one elbow, giving him her witchiest, bitchiest smile. "Strip." "Now, listen here, Francie--" Lifting a languid hand, she once again pointed toward the center of the room. "Do it real slow, good-looking," she purred. "I want to enjoy every minute.
But she did not take her eyes from the wheels of the second car. And exactly at the moment when the midpoint between the wheels drew level with her, she threw away the red bag, and drawing her head back into her shoulders, fell on her hands under the car, and with a light movement, as though she would rise immediately, dropped on her knees. And at the instant she was terror-stricken at what she was doing. 'Where am I? What am I doing? What for?' She tried to get up, to throw herself back; but something huge and merciless struck her on the head and dragged her down on her back.
She had an overwhelming desire to tell him, like the most banal of women. Don't let me go, hold me tight, make me your plaything, your slave, be strong! But they were words she could not say. The only thing she said when he released her from his embrace was, "You don't know how happy I am to be with you." That was the most her reserved nature allowed her to express.
I'll tell you what's wrong!" he roared, "I'm trying to quit smoking!" Then he strode angrily to the truck, leaving her standing there. She blinked her eyes, and slowly a smile stretched her lips. She strolled to the truck and got in. "So, are you homicidal or merely as irritable as a wounded buffalo?" "About halfway in between," he said through clenched teeth. "Anything I can do to help?" His eyes were narrow and intense. "It isn't just the cigarettes. Take off your panties and lock your legs around me, and I'll show you.
You really want to know what else it was my mom said about you?" he asked. She shook her head. He didn't seem to notice. "She said you'd break my heart," he told her, and left.
(on Marilyn Monroe) I was walking down Broadway with her and nobody was stopping us. She was going to (Stella Adler's) actors' studio, and she was taking me to show me what it was all about. And I said to her: "How come nobody is taking your picture?" She said: "Well, watch." She took her scarf off, straightened her shoulders, and draped something another way, and we were surrounded. It must have been 400 people. And I said: "Now I know why!"
She was trying to say something else; she was trying to say that the inability to articulate what one feels in any satisfactory way is one of our enduring tragedies. It wouldn't have been much, and it wouldn't have been useful, but it would have been something that reflected the gravity and the sadness inside her. Instead, she had snapped at him for being a loser. It was as if she were trying to find a handhold on the boulder of her feelings, and had merely ended up with grit under her nails.
She may be lying in bed reading a book, she may be making love with a prize fighter, or she may be running like mad through a field of stubble, one shoe one, one shoe off, a man named Corn Cob pursuing her hotly. Wherever she is I am standing in complete darkness; her absence blots me out.
As he was about to leave, she said, "Murtagh." He paused and turned to regard her. She hesitated for a moment, then mustered her courage and said, "Why?" She though he understood her meaning: Why her? Why save her, and now why try to rescue her? She had guessed at the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it. He stared at her for the longest while, and then, in a low, hard voice, he said, "You know why.
She wanted to have him hold her and tell her all the demons were pretend, that there was no monster in her closet, that everything would be okay. But that was a lie. The demon was in her head, telling her she was too fat. She had to get the demon out. But she couldn't do it by herself.
Take love as a sober man takes wine; do not become a drunkard. If your mistress is sincere and faithful, love her for that; but if she is not, if she is merely young and beautiful, love her for that; if she is agreeable and spirituelle, love her for that; if she is none of these things but merely loves you, love her for that. Love does not come to us every day.
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