Pulsebeat Quotes

#1. What I cannot understand is how your uncle could consider these two men suitable when they aren't. Not one whit!"
"We know that," Elizabeth said wryly, bending down to pull a blade of grass from between the flagstones beneath the bench, "but evidently my 'suitors' do not, and that's the problem." As she said the words a thought began to form in her mind; her fingers touched the blade, and she went perfectly still. Beside her on the bench Alex drew a breath as if to speak, then stopped short, and in that pulsebeat of still silence the same idea was born in both their fertile minds.
"Alex," Elizabeth breathed, "all I have to-"
"Elizabeth," Alex whispered, "it's not as bad as it seems. All you have to-"
Elizabeth straightened slowly and turned.
In that prolonged moment of silence two longtime friends sat in a rose garden, looking raptly at each other while time rolled back and they were girls again-lying awake in the dark, confiding their dreams and troubles and inventing schemes to solve them that always began with "If only…"
"If only," Elizabeth said as a smile dawned across her face and was matched by the one on Alex's, "I could convince them that we don't suit-"
"Which shouldn't be hard to do," Alex cried enthusiastically, "because it's true!"
The joyous relief of having a plan, of being able to take control of a situation that minutes before had threatened her entire life, sent Elizabeth to her feet, her face aglow with laughter. "Poo #Quote by Judith McNaught

#2. Signal smokes, war drums, feathered bonnets against the western sky. New messiahs, young leaders are ready to hurl the finest light cavalry in the world against Fort Stark. In the Kiowa village, the beat of drums echoes in the pulsebeat of the young braves. Fighters under a common banner, old quarrels forgotten, Comanche rides with Arapaho, Apache with Cheyenne. All chant of war. War to drive the white man forever from the red man's hunting ground. #Quote by Frank Nugent

#3. And when he saw the kid standing there looking looking down at him he held out to him his bloodied hands as if in accusation and then clapped them to his ears and cried out what it seemed he himself would not hear, a howl of such outrage as to stitch a caesura in the pulsebeat of the world. #Quote by Cormac McCarthy