Sharptooth My Last Breath Quotes

#1. Page and page I let the spell of the story and its world take me over, until the breath of dawn touched my window and my tired eyes slid over the last page. I lay in the bluish half-light with the book on my chest and listened to the murmur of the sleeping city. My eyes began to close, but I resisted. I did not want to lose the story's spell or bid farewell to its characters yet. #Quote by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

#2. I add my oath of protection to the bone,' he said in a whisper. 'To you now and to any child you may bear in the future. I would trade no day I spend with you for a life of safe slavery. I accepted the post of Seeker of my own free will. And if Darken Rahl takes the whole world into madness, then we will die with a sword in our hands, not chains on our wings. We will not allow it to be easy for them to kill us; they will pay a high price. We will fight with our last breath if need be, and in our death, let us inflict a wound on him that will fester until it claims him. #Quote by Terry Goodkind

#3. It is never late to ask yourself "Am I ready to change my life, am I ready to change myself?". However old we are, whatever we went through, it is always possible to reborn. If each day is a copy of the last one, what a pity! Every breath is a chance to reborn. But to reborn into a new life, you have to die before dying. #Quote by Shams Tabrizi

#4. We were all pretty quiet until Jeremiah broke the silence like breaking the top of a crème brulee. He said, "This potato salad tastes like bad breath."
"I think that would be your upper lip," Conrad said.
We all laughed, and it felt like a relief. For it to be okay to laugh. To be something other than sad.
Then Conrad said, "This rib has mold on it," and we all started to laugh again. It felt like I hadn't laughed in a long time.
My mother rolled her eyes. "Would it kill you to eat a little mold? Just scrape it off. Give it to me. I'll eat it."
Conrad put his hands up in surrender, and then he stabbed the rib with his fork and dropped it on my mother's plate ceremoniously. "Enjoy it, Laurel."
"I swear, you spoil these boys, Beck," my mother said, and everything felt normal, like any other last night. "Belly was raised on leftovers, weren't you, bean?"
"I was," I agreed. "I was a neglected child who was fed only old food that nobody else wanted."
My mother suppressed a smile and pushed the potato salad toward me.
"I do spoil them," Susannah said, touching Conrad's shoulder, Jeremiah's cheek. "They're angels. Why shouldn't I?"
The two boys looked at each other from across the table for a second. Then Conrad said, "I'm an angel. I would say Jere's more of a cherub." He reached out and tousled Jeremiah's hair roughly.
Jeremiah swatted his hand away. "He's no angel. He's the devil," he said. It was like the fight had been eras #Quote by Jenny Han

#5. I've been in a maximum security prison. I've been around the worst of the worst. I've had to sleep with one eye open, thinking my next breath could be my last." "Why are you telling me all this?" He turned toward me and our eyes locked. He reached out and ran the back of his pointer finger along my cheek. "Because I want you to know that none of those motherfuckers ever scared me as much as you do. #Quote by T.M. Frazier

#6. I was leaning over him when he died. My hands on his chest. My palms felt his last breath move inside him. His chest rose and fell and then kept falling, like it could carry us both straight down through the earth.
I didn't stop pushing, but I knew. Right then. I was breathing hard myself. My lungs probably took int he last air Tariq ever exhaled. It can't possibly be in me anymore, but it feels like it is. Like it's weighing heavy on my chest with every breath I take, even now. #Quote by Kekla Magoon

#7. What's your name?" I ask him.
We're standing in front of my door.
He stops suprised. Lifts his chin almost imperecmptly. Focuses his eyes on my face until I begin to regret my question.
"You want to know my name."
I don't do it on purpose, but my eyes narrow just a bit.
"Warner is your last name, isn't it?"
He almost smiles. "You want to know my name"
"I didn't realize it was a secret."
He steps forward. His lips twitch. His eyes fall, his lips draw in a tight breath. He drops a gloved finger down the apple of my cheek. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours,"
He whispers, too close to my neck.
I inch backward. Swallow hard.
"You already know my name."
He's not looking at my eyes. "You're right. I should rephrase that. What I meant to say was I'll tell you mine if you show me yours."
"What?" I'm breathing too fast too suddenly.
He begins to pull off his gloves and I begin to panic.
"Show me what you can do."
My jaw is tight and my teeth have begun to ache. "I won't touch you"
"That's all right." He tugs off the other glove. "I don't exactly need your help."
"No-"
"Don't worry." He grins. "I'm sure it won't hurt you at all."
"No," I gasp "No, I won't-I can't-"
"Fine," Warner snaps "That's fine. You don't want to hurt me. I'm so utterly flattered." He almost rolls his eyes. #Quote by Tahereh Mafi

#8. You've a sentimental streak along with that iron,Keeley."
"Yes,I do.And a latent romantic one."
"Is that so?" he murmured, a little surprised when she turned and ran her hands up his chest.
"Apparently.I didn't think you for riding to my rescue last night."
"I don't recall riding anywhere." His lips twitched as she backed him out of the box.
"In a manner of speaking.You cut a bully down to size for me.I was upset and worried about the gelding, so I didn't really think about it at the time.But I did later,and I wanted to thank you."
"Well, you're welcome."
"I haven't finished thanking you." She bit lightly on his bottom lip, heard his quick indrawn breath.
"If that's what you have in mind, you could finish thanking me up in my bedroom."
"Why don't I just show you what I have in mind? Right here."
She had his shirt unbuttoned before he realized they were standing in an empty stall, freshly bedded with hay. "Here?" He laughed, taking both her hands to tug her out again. "I don't think so."
"Here." She countered his move by ramming his back against the side wall. "I know so."
"Don't be ridiculous." His lungs were clogged, and his mind insisted on following suit. "Anyone could come along?"
"Live dangerously." She pulled the stall door shut behind them.
"I have been,since I first set eyes on you. #Quote by Nora Roberts

#9. All I hope, selfishly, is that there will be real books until the day I draw my last breath. #Quote by Jane Hamilton

#10. The only thing I'll never have is what I have lost for ever and ever ... As long as I live, until I draw my last breath, I shall remember Asel and all those beautiful things that were ours. The day I was to leave I went to the lake and stood on the rise above it. I was saying good-bye to the Tien Shan mountains, to Issyk-Kul. Good-bye, Issyk-Kul, my unfinished song! How I wish I could take you with me, your blue waters and your yellow shores, but I can't, just as I can't take the woman I love with me. Goodbye, Asel. Good-bye, my pretty poplar in a red kerchief! Good-bye, my love, I want you to be happy ... #Quote by Chingiz Aitmatov

#11. Now the moon is high; and the great house, needing habitation more than ever, is like a body without life. Now it is even awful, stealing through it, to think of the live people who have slept in the solitary bedrooms, to say nothing of the dead. Now is the time for shadow, when every corner is a cavern and every downward step a pit, when the stained glass is reflected in pale and faded hues upon the floors, when anything and everything can be made of the heavy staircase beams excepting their own proper shapes, when the armour has dull lights upon it not easily to be distinguished from stealthy movement, and when barred helmets are frightfully suggestive of heads inside. But of all the shadows in Chesney Wold, the shadow in the long drawing-room upon my Lady's picture is the first to come, the last to be disturbed. At this hour and by this light it changes into threatening hands raised up and menacing the handsome face with every breath that stirs. #Quote by Charles Dickens

#12. Reading a newspaper account of one young woman's fatal accident on a midsummer morning a few years ago got me thinking about how I would have liked to have departed before my time if that had been my destiny.

If I'd had to die young, hers is the death I would have chosen.

She was twenty-two, the story disclosed, bright, talented, beautiful, her future spread before her like a brilliant, textured tapestry. She'd just graduated from a prestigious eastern university, had accepted a communications position with a New York television network, and would depart the following day on a four-week holiday in Europe before embarking on her promising career and the rest of her exciting life.

On that golden summer day, the young woman had just finished her morning run. She had sprinted the last half mile, then stopped abruptly to catch her breath. She was bent at the waist, hands on her knees, eyes on the ground, her mind a world away, perhaps in Barcelona or Tuscany or Rome, exulting in the enchanting sights she would soon see, the splendid life she would have.

It was then that the train hit her.

Unaware, unthinking, oblivious to everything but the beguiling visions in her head, she had ended her run on the railroad tracks that wound through the center of her small Oregon town, one moment in the fullest expectancy of her glorious youth, adrenaline and endorphins coursing through her body, sugarplum visions dancing in her head, the nex #Quote by Lionel Fisher

#13. Thanks," Jack said. "My car's back at the store.If we can just make it there."
Will noticed me for the first time. "Hey. A girl." He studied my face for a moment, and then he gasped and stopped walking. "Nikki Beckett. You'd better get out of here before my brother sees you.He'd freak."
"And,we're walking," Jack said, heaving Will forward.
"Oh,hey,Jack.Didn't see you there." Will smiled again,undisturbed. His eyes glazed over and he seemed to have forgotten all about me.
Jack looked at me around the slumping head of his brother. "Will was wounded. And discharged."
Will swung his head around to face me. "They expected me to wear pants!" He prayed the last word across my face, and I gagged at his foul breath. "Like,all the time...It was so hot." He stared at me again. "Hey, you look familiar.Hey,Jack,'member that girl-?"
"Yes," Jack interrupted.
"You know,the one who totally messed you up-"
"Yes," Jack cut him off again. His eyes met mine,and he gave me an apologetic grin. I felt my own lips turning up. #Quote by Brodi Ashton

#14. One day, as Sarita tended to the wash, Gemma played in the garden. She was a knight, you see, with a sword fashioned out of wood. Most formidable, she was, though I didn't quite know how formidable. As I sat in my study, I heard screaming from outside. I ran to see what the commotion was. Sarita called to me, wide-eyed with fear, "Oh, Mr. Doyle, look- over there!" The tiger had entered the garden and was making his way toward where our Gemma frolicked with her wooden sword. Beside me, our house servant, Raj, drew his blade so stealthily it seemed to simply appear in his hand by magic. But Sarita stayed his hand. "If you run for him with your life, you will provoke the tiger," she advised. "We must wait."...
I must tell you that it was the longest moment of my life. No one dared move. No one dared draw a breath. And all the while, Gemma played on, taking no notice until the great cat was upon her. She stood and faced him. They stared at one another as if each wondered what to make of the other, as if they sensed a kindred spirit. At last, Gemma placed her sword upon the ground. "Dear tiger," she said. "You may pass if you are peaceful." The tiger looked at the sword and back at Gemma, and without a sound, it passed on, dissappearing into the jungle."
...
"The tiger had gone. He did not come around a gain. But I was a man possessed. The tiger had come too close, you see. I no longer felt safe. I hired the best tracker in Bombay. We hunted for days, tracking the t #Quote by Libba Bray

#15. He would have told her - he would have said, it matters not if you are here or there, for I see you before me every moment. I see you in the light of the water, in the swaying of the young trees in the spring wind. I see you in the shadows of the great oaks, I hear your voice in the cry of the owl at night. You are the blood in my veins, and the beating of my heart. You are my first waking thought, and my last sigh before sleeping. You are - you are bone of my bone, and breath of my breath. #Quote by Juliet Marillier

#16. I stood behind the man's chair, my blade at his throat.
"Why do you do it?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't answer. "Kill people, and blow up buildings, and sell drugs?"
It was what they all did. Committed crimes. That was why I killed them.
"You're a criminal, a terrorist, a danger. And I have been asked to take you out." I told him.
I was legend now, yet he asked the same question all the others did.
"What is your name?"
My sensitive ears tuned out the slit as my sword cut his neck.
I walked around the chair to see his face. I watched as his eyes–slowly at first–changed from blue to milky white. His skin went pale.
And as I heard him take his last breath, I ducked in so my lips hovered at his ear, and whispered, "My name, is Sharden. #Quote by Alysha Speer

#17. You're not so much of a shmuck after all, Jarry."
"Thanks, PITA. But you tell anyone that I'm going soft, and I'll deny it with my last breath."
"Would I do that?" Sarah asks with what she attempts to be an innocent expression, and fails miserably.
"Yes," I say easily. "Yes, you would. #Quote by Katelin LaMontagne

#18. I step on the stage and find the lights blazing against me and yet in the same distance pulling me forward. I am like something left over after a storm. Slight, a waif. It is like I am underwater in a pool of brightness. Slowly slowly I walk down towards the men. (...) I guess they don't know what they are seeing. I guess it is true they are seeing a lovely woman. Soft-breasted woman (...) I might be one of the footlights, with a burning wick for a heart. I don't utter a blessed word. (...) John Cole all spit and polish approaches from the far side of the stage and we hear the men draw in their breath like a sea tide drawing back on the shingle of a beach. He approaches and approaches. They know I'm a man because they have read it on the bill. But I'm suspecting that every one of them would like to touch me and now John Cole is their ambassador of kisses. Slowly slowly he edges nearer. He reaches out a hand, so openly and plainly that I believe I am going to expire. The held-in breath of the audience is not let out again. Half a minute passes. It is unlikely any of them could of holded their breath like this underwater. They have found new lungs. Down down we go under them waters of desire. Every last man, young and old, wants John Cole to touch my face, hold my narrow shoulders, put his mouth against my lips. Handsome John Cole, my beau. Our love in plain sight. Then the lungs of the audience giving out, and a rasping rush of sound. We have reached the very borderland of our #Quote by Sebastian Barry

#19. He watched Attolia out of the corner of his eye. She was still cool, like a breath of winter in the warm evening air, but in the last few days he had begun to sense a subtle humor in her chilly words. When Gen had complained earlier that evening that Petrus, the palace physician, should stop fussing over him like a worried old woman, Attolia had asked, archly,"And me as well?"
"When you stop fussing," Gen had said, slipping to his knees beside her couch, "I will sleep with two knives under my pillow."
Allolia had looked down at him and said sharply, "Don't be ridiculous."
Only when Eugenides laughed had Sounis realized her implication: If she ever turned against Eugenides, a second knife wouldn't save him. He almost swallowed the olive in his mouth unchewed. #Quote by Megan Whalen Turner

#20. Then viselike fingers clenched my throat, the stake was wrenched from my hand, and a sharp stabbing pain shot up my right thigh as I landed on the ground with a thump that knocked the breath out of me.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, once I landed, something hard and heavy - his knee, I thought - hit me right in the sternum. You know, just in case there was one last breath left in my lungs. The point of the stake scraped the sensitive skin just under my chin. I looked up, wheezing, into Archer's face. #Quote by Rachel Hawkins

#21. I will not let them harm you. I will protect you 'till my last breath. #Quote by Jalpa Williby

#22. He was tall in the bed and I could see the silver through his eyelids. His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say, "I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come." Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places. This one was sent out by the breath of an accordion, the odd taste of champagne in summer, and the art of promise-keeping. He lay in my arms and rested. There was an itchy lung for a last cigarette and an immense, magnetic pull toward the basement, for the girl who was his daughter and was writing a book down there that he hoped to read one day. #Quote by Markus Zusak

#23. Without you by my side, I am weak. With you in my heart, in my arms, I am invincible. My love for you will only grow stronger. My love for you will keep growing until I take my last breath. #Quote by Kathryn McNeill Crane

#24. The last time I saw him, I didn't breath again until he had dressed himself completely. From the crack in my sister's door, I saw him get out of her bed and inhale, as if he had accomplished his mission for the day. #Quote by Jennifer Loren

#25. A latent warmth flickers behind those golden, burning rings. The Cold struggles to squelch it, shrouding it with the frigid Night. It almost smothers it entirely.
Almost.
But I know it is still there. It is like the heat of an unassuming coal beneath a blanket of graying ash. It is hidden, but not extinguished.
I can feel it. I can feel its gentle breath against my skin, like distant sunlight during newborn spring.
I can hear it. I can hear it reaching to divide the curtains of shadow on his face, like the whispers of blossoms unfolding.
I can see it. I can see it behind his fiery eyes, flickering like a starlight-dappled pool, dancing in and out of view.
It is buried. Buried, but burning nonetheless. Buried but burning, like one last hope in my heart. One last Ember in the dark.
-The Penitent God #Quote by S.G. Night

#26. I designed this and had it made especially for you. The trefoil is the symbol of immortality: a beginning without an end, like our life together. The hearts represent my love for you. Forever love. Unending like the knot they form. I chose opals instead of diamonds, because opals are warm living stones, each color a birth stone, yours being the center of this ring just like you are the center of our family. "I know the inscription isn't original, but the meaning behind the words is. I wrote those words for the wife I dreamed of. And here you are. With My Last Breath. #Quote by Julieanne Reeves

#27. I'm so skilled at convincing people of lies, but I don't know how to convince you of the truth. I love you with all my heart and all of my soul. I will love you until I draw my last breath. #Quote by Lorraine Heath

#28. Jesse, who rematerialized at the end of all of this, had a little smile on his face, having clearly overheard.
"It isn't funny," I said to him sourly.
"It's a little funny," he said.
"No," I said, "it isn't."
"I think," Jesse said, cracking open the book Father Dom had loaned him, "it's time for a little reading out loud."
"No," I groaned. "Not Critical Theory Since Plato. Please, I am begging you. It's not fair, I can't even run away."
"I know," Jesse said with a gleam in his eyes. "At last I have you where I want you ..."
I have to admit, my breath kind of caught in my throat when he said that.
But of course he didn't mean what I wanted him to mean. He just meant that now he could read his stupid book out loud, and I couldn't escape. #Quote by Meg Cabot

#29. She asked about my intentions toward you." He steadied his nerve to speak words that might hurt her. "I told her there was nothing between us."
"Did you?" Her expression was impenetrable as she shifted her gaze to the road ahead. "Fortunately, I told her the same thing."
He gripped the reins. So much for hurting her.
"But you know Gran," Celia went on lightly. "She'll think what she wants, no matter what either of us say."
"Well," he managed, "her mind will surely be put to rest about you and me when you announce that you're marrying the duke."
"When I announce?" she echoed, then fell silent for a long moment. "There's something I…ought to have mentioned before."
He gritted his teeth. Damn, damn, damn. She must have already announced it, last night after he'd left the ball. It was set in stone now. She was planning to let that bloody duke into her bed and her life, even though she didn't-
"I never had any intention of marrying the duke."
Stunned, he turned to gape at her, a jolt of relief shooting straight to his soul. Then he caught himself. He could be reading her words entirely wrong. "Oh? Have you fixed on one of the others instead?"
She took a deep breath. "Actually I'd planned for another outcome entirely."
His blood clamored in his chest. "What do you mean?"
"I was hoping that if I gained an offer from a man of high rank, I could throw it in Gran's face to prove I am just as marriageable as any woman. Then she woul #Quote by Sabrina Jeffries

#30. And then he leaned forward and my stomach collapsed, taking in that last breath. I closed my eyes and watched in awe as all the butterflies flew up into the sky, free, mingling with the exploding lights. #Quote by Natalie Bina

#31. When the rich are too rich there are ways, and when the poor are too poor there are ways. Last winter we sold two girls and endured, and this winter, if this one my woman bears is a girl, we will sell again. One slave I have kept - the first. The others it is better to sell than to kill, although there are those who prefer to kill them before they draw breath. This is one of the ways when the poor are too poor. When the rich are too rich there is a way, and if I am not mistaken, that way will come soon. #Quote by Pearl S. Buck

#32. With this ring, I promise you a strong shoulder to cry on. I promise to hold and care for you whenever you need me. I promise to bring you comfort when you're sad and to defend you to the last. I give you faith, trust and commitment unfailing. I promise to love you with every breath in my lungs and beat of my heart until the end of time. I promise that the only heart I own will always belong to you and it will never beat for another as long I live. I promise picnics in the summer and cozy nights by the fire in winter. I promise to always cherish and appreciate you and everything you do and to show you every day just how much you mean to me. I will always be yours and you will always be mine. This I promise you #Quote by Marie Coulson

#33. The Christmas I was sixteen, my ma and I were poorer than church mice. My pa died when I was two, taking her heart with him." A smile curved his lips. "She could have remarried for a more comfortable life. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. We were happy, though, her and I. Just when I was getting old enough to do odd jobs, bring in some money to make her life easier, she got sick. I stayed home to nurse her. She had no strength left. But somehow she'd scraped together the last of her red yarn and made me a pair of stockings. My Christmas gift that year."
Sensing his thoughts lingered in the past, Louisa brushed a finger over the scrap in her palm.
"She died several weeks later."
Louise caught her breath, aching for the pain of that young man.
"I took a lot of ribbing for wearing red stockings. But I didn't give them up, even when I could afford to. I felt like they kept my ma close. Like she was with me."
Tears welled up in Louisa's eyes. One dripped over.
He caught the drop on the tip of his finger. "They brought me luck."
"That's why you're called Red. I wondered. #Quote by Debra Holland

#34. My opinion has always been this. That you ought never to give up as long as you live, even though they have stolen everything from you. If nothing else, you can always call the air you breath your own, or at any rate you can claim that you have it on loan. Yes, lass, last night I ate stolen bread and left my son among men who are going to use pick-handles on the authorities, so I thought I might as well look you up this morning. #Quote by Halldor Laxness

#35. I continued on my way towards Hexham, very slowly, at what I call hymn-speed. I have not mentioned that I sing as I go along. I always do. Seldom loudly, more often in a murmur. I recognise few limits in my repertoire; I can treat myself to anything. I bellow in opera, warble in ballad. My choice on any particular occasion is governed by my speed, and governs my speed; my feet march in tempo. My favourite uphill song is "Volga Boatman," which suits my movements admirably: I find I can grind out a note with every step, and each verse earns a pause, a brief halt. For slow travel, or when I am tired, hymns are best; not the noisy modern tunes, but the old ones, the softer melodies: "Breathe on me, breath of God." "Jesus, Lover of my Soul." "When I survey the Wondrous Cross." "Nearer, my God, to Thee." "Lead, Kindly Light." and best of all, "Abide with me'" old familiar tunes which can never lapse and be forgotten; quiet tunes and comforting words learnt in childhood, and later loved. . . . Last of all are the rousing marching songs, which usually end the day, unless I am very weary, when my choice is invariably "Lead, Kindly Light. #Quote by Alfred Wainwright

#36. You're breaking my heart."
At the sound of Rider's voice, I wheeled around, clutching my bag to my side. First thing I noticed was the faded Ravens emblem stretched over his broad chest, and then I forced my eyes up. The slight scruff along his jaw was gone. Nothing but smooth skin today.
No notebook. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, a familiar, crooked grin pulled at Rider's lips, causing the dimple in his right cheek to pop. He stepped forward, and my heart did a backflip as he dipped his chin. I felt his warm breath on the side of my cheek as he spoke.
"You didn't respond to my text last night," he said, and there was a light, teasing tone I didn't remember from before. "I thought maybe you didn't realize it was me, but that would mean someone else would be texting you good-night and calling you Mouse. I'm not sure how I feel about that. #Quote by Jennifer L. Armentrout

#37. And I wonder, in my last moments, if the planet does not mind that we wound her surface or pillage her bounty, because she knows we silly warm things are not even a breath in her cosmic life. We have grown and spread, and will rage and die. And when all that remains of us is our steel monuments and plastic idols, her winds will whisper, her sands will shift, and she will spin on and on, forgetting about the bold, hairless apes who thought they deserved immortality. #Quote by Pierce Brown

#38. What isn't a risk? Birth comes with a death sentence. Every breath I take could be my last. #Quote by Tiffany Reisz

#39. Breathe. Pause. Move. Pause. Breathe. Pause. Move. Pause.
It is unending.
I heave myself over the final lip and strain to pull myself clear of the edge.
I clear the deep powder snow from in front of my face. I lie there hyperventilating.
Then I clear my mask of the ice that my breath has formed in the freezing air.
I unclip off the rope while still crouching. The line is now clear for Neil to follow up.
I get to my feet and start staggering onward.
I can see this distant cluster of prayer flags semisubmerged in the snow. Gently flapping in the wind, I know that these flags mark the true summit--the place of dreams.
I feel this sudden surge of energy beginning to rise within me.
It is adrenaline coursing around my veins and muscles.
I have never felt so strong--and yet so weak--all at the same time.
Intermittent waves of adrenaline and fatigue come and go as my body struggles to sustain the intensity of these final moments.
I find it strangely ironic that the very last part of this immense climb is so gentle a slope.
A sweeping curve--curling along the crest of the ridge toward the summit.
Thank God.
It feels like the mountain is beckoning me up. For the first time, willing me to climb up onto the roof of the world.
I try to count the steps as I move, but my counting becomes confused.
I am now breathing and gasping like a wild animal in an attempt to devour the oxygen that seeps into my mask.< #Quote by Bear Grylls

#40. If any person raises his hand to strike down another on the ground of religion, I shall fight him till the last breath of my life, both as the head of the government and from the outside #Quote by Jawaharlal Nehru

#41. Regan?"

"Where are you?"

"You called." He was so relieved to hear her voice ti took him a few seconds to catch up with the question. "I'm in Tennessee." Where else would he be?

"No, really? And here I thought you'd flown to the moon in the last week." She took a shuddering breath, some of the strength leaving her voice. "So, did you know you live in the woods? Like way out there. What the hell is wrong with you? Who chooses to live surrounded by rabid animals who are only too happy to eat your face off?"

How the hell did she know... Brock slammed on his brakes and nearly fishtailed off the highway. Thank God no one else was on the road or he would have caused a wreck. "Where are you?"

"I'd think that was obvious. I'm in your front yard, engaged in a staring contest with a squirrel."

"Do not move." He jerked the wheel and flipped a bitch in the middle of the road. "I'm coming."

"I'm not moving. I'm pretty sure this little beast will go for my throat the second I do. So... hurry. #Quote by Katee Robert

#42. I will not give you up. You are my mate until I take my last breath, and I will follow you to the ends of the earth. You - you are the happiness I never knew i was missing, the heart I didn't know had never beaten. #Quote by Lynn Hagen

#43. He said nothing of the pounding in his heart when he looked at her. He felt short of breath after his long ride. His white skin felt hot to the touch. He did not use the word "love." For the last time in his life he wondered if he had wasted his love on a woman who only gave her love until it was time to take it back. He set the thought aside. He had given his heart this once in his life and counted himself blessed to have had the chance to do so. The question of whether she was worthy of his love had no meaning. His heart had answered that question long ago.

"You will protect me," she said.

"With my life," he replied."

Excerpt From: Toppy. "The Enchantress of Florence - Salman Rushdie. #Quote by Salman Rushdie

#44. Hi, I'm Jude Ryder Jamieson," he began, extending his hand. I took it, shaking it. He held onto it when I tried to pull it back. "My mom left when I was thirteen. My dad's serving a life sentence for killing a young kid. I spent the last five years in a boys' home being bullied, beat, and abused by the kids, the staff, and even the goddamn dog. I sold drugs. I did drugs. I got arrested. A lot. I screwed a lot of faceless women." He paused, sucking in a breath. "And then I met one whose face I couldn't forget. I fell in love with her. I hurt her because I fell in love with her and was afraid she was going to leave me the way everyone else had." He lifted his other hand, cradling mine between his. "I still love her. #Quote by Nicole Williams