A Quote by Nalini Singh

No one has ever been able to pinpoint the trigger." "But?" "But it is legend that ambrosia only rises when-" She held her breath. "- an archangel loves true. — © Nalini Singh
No one has ever been able to pinpoint the trigger." "But?" "But it is legend that ambrosia only rises when-" She held her breath. "- an archangel loves true.
The one and only time an archangel can Make another angel is when our bodies produce a substance known as ambrosia. Ambrosia,is produced instinctively at a single point in an archangel’s life. It is legend that ambrosia only rises when an archangel loves true.
Could he be naked beneath his breeches? They seemed molded to him, outlining the powerful lines of his thighs and the swell just above— Oh, God. She closed her eyes. She’d been looking at his—Not only was it rude, but it had sent an amazing tingle through her, almost as if she’d touched it. “Fiona, if you ever look at me like that again, I will not be held responsible for what I do.” Jack was so close that she could feel his breath on her temple. “Do you understand?
The pain was as unexpected as a thunderclap in a clear sky. Eddis's chest tightened, as something closed around her heart. A deep breath might have calmed her, but she couldn't draw one. She wondered if she was ill, and she even thought briefly that she might have been poisoned. She felt Attolia reach out and take her hand. To the court it was unexceptional, hardly noticed, but to Eddis it was an anchor, and she held on to it as if to a lifeline. Sounis was looking at her with concern. Her responding smile was artificial.
she held her breath, and in her head, counted seconds. She pretended that for each second she didn’t breathe, God would grant her another day
Teresa Lewis, the only woman on death row in Virginia, says she doesn't deserve the death penalty because she only hired the killers of her husband and stepson, she didn't actually pull the trigger herself. You know, she has a point. I think we should let her be able to hire the person who executes her, and not do yourself in! How's that, doll? Yeah! Get it over with quick, maybe Charlize Theron will sign up to play you.
There was her face, like a summer peach, beautiful and warm, and the light of the candles reflected in her dark eyes. [He] held his breath. The entire world waited and held its breath.
But in the night he woke and held her tight as though she were all of life and it was being taken from him. He held her feeling she was all of life there was and it was true.
My wife, my Mary, goes to her sleep the way you would close the door of a closet. So many times I have watched her with envy. Her lovely body squirms a moment as though she fitted herself into a cocoon. She sighs once and at the end of it her eyes close and her lips, untroubled, fall into that wise and remote smile of the Ancient Greek gods. She smiles all night in her sleep, her breath purrs in her throat, not a snore, a kitten's purr... She loves to sleep and sleep welcomes her.
Chloë Moretz as Carrie has an inherent amount of charisma, the camera loves her, she's been acting since she's five, she's a total pro, she knows her instrument. I took her on this phenomenal journey from a confident child star who has the great privileges of a family who loves her, great success, and huge confidence, to a wounded woman who had to gain her confidence back and desperately wanted love and acceptance.
Sophie said to me once that she was glad she had been scarred. She said that whoever loved her now would love her true self, and not her pretty face. This is your true self, Tessa. This power is who you are. Whoever loves you now--and you must also love yourself--will love the truth of you.
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 flew into his arms. Held on tight as he swung her off her feet and hugged her so hard it hurt. She didn't care. She didn't want him to ever let go.
Astonishingly, at some point, a sputtering torch was thrust into her hands. Alma did not see who gave it to her. She had never before been entrusted with fire. The torch spit sparks and sent chunks of flaming tar spinning into the air behind her as she bolted across the cosmos-the only body in the heavens who was not held to a strict elliptical path. Nobody stopped her. She was a comet. She did not know that she was not flying.
Yet losing him seemed unbearable. He was the one she loved, the one she would always love, and as he leaned in to kiss her, she gave herself over to him. While he held her close, she ran her hands over his shoulders and back, feeling the strength in his arms. She knew he’d wanted more in their relationship than she’d been willing to offer, but here and now, she suddenly knew she had no other choice. There was only this moment, and it was theirs.
He always apologized, and sometimes he would even cry because of the bruises he'd made on her arms or legs or her back. He would say that he hated what he'd done, but in the next breath tell her she'd deserved it. That if she'd been more careful, it wouldn't have happened. That if she'd been paying attention or hadn't been so stupid, he wouldn't have lost his temper.
What I'm loving about Hilary Clinton is that she has the job that's been held mostly by men. She's made it her job, not only to be a very tactful diplomat, but she travels the world, spotlighting what's going on with girls and women, in every country that she goes to. That has been so unique.
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