Tendonitis In Elbow Quotes

#1. They had not been long there before Lord Dumbello did group himself. 'Fine day,' he said, coming up and occupying the vacant position by Miss Grantly's elbow.
'We were driving to-day and we thought it rather cold,' said Griselda.
'Deuced cold,' said Lord Dumbello, and then he adjusted his white cravat and touched up his whiskers. Having got so far, he did not proceed to any other immediate conversational efforts; nor did Griselda. But he grouped himself again as became a marquis, and gave very intense satisfaction to Mrs. Proudie.
'This is so kind of you, Lord Dumbello,' said that lady, coming up to him and shaking his hand warmly; 'so very kind of you to come to my poor little tea-party.'
'Uncommonly pleasant, I call it,' said his lordship. 'I like this sort of thing--no trouble, you know.'
'No; that is the charm of it: isn't it? no trouble or fuss, or parade. That's what I always say. According to my ideas, society consists in giving people facility for an interchange of thoughts--what we call conversation.'
'Aw, yes, exactly.'
'Not in eating and drinking together--eh, Lord Dumbello? And yet the practice of our lives would seem to show that the indulgence of those animal propensities can alone suffice to bring people together. The world in this has surely made a great mistake.'
'I like a good dinner all the same,' said Lord Dumbello.
'Oh, yes, of course--of course. I am by no means one of those who would pretend to preach that ou #Quote by Anthony Trollope

#2. I suppose in reality not a leaf goes yellow in autumn without ceasing to care about its sap and making the parent tree very uncomfortable by long growling and grumbling - but surely nature might find some less irritating way of carrying on business if she would give her mind to it. Why should the generations overlap one another at all? Why cannot we be buried as eggs in neat little cells with ten or twenty thousand pounds each wrapped round us in Bank of England notes, and wake up, as the sphex wasp does, to find that its papa and mamma have not only left ample provision at its elbow, but have been eaten by sparrows some weeks before it began to live consciously on its own account? #Quote by Samuel Butler

#3. He didn't need to get up and look in the ornate, gilt-edged mirror over the massive fireplace to know that calamitous was the accurate word for his face. His right eye drooped, and the right half of his face was a gnarled mess of scar tissue. He was missing a small chunk of his nose on the right side, and he wore his hair shaggy to conceal the scar where his right ear used to be. But no amount of hairstyling could conceal the fact that his right arm was missing below the elbow. And his right leg, also injured in the blast, would always cause him to walk with a slight limp. Once a handsome young man, he was now a monster. A beast. #Quote by Katy Regnery

#4. Oh, it's not her Christian name. Her Christian name is Clara.' 'Is it though?' said Mr. Barkis. He seemed to find an immense fund of reflection in this circumstance, and sat pondering and inwardly whistling for some time. 'Well!' he resumed at length. 'Says you, "Peggotty! Barkis is waitin' for a answer." Says she, perhaps, "Answer to what?" Says you, "To what I told you." "What is that?" says she. "Barkis is willin'," says you.' This extremely artful suggestion Mr. Barkis accompanied with a nudge of his elbow that gave me quite a stitch in my #Quote by Charles Dickens

#5. Oh, Myr," he chokes out. "I hate having to ask this of you ... "
He glances towards the car again, and I crouch down in the shadows, hoping it's too dark for him to see whether the window is open or closed. The woman pats his arm, cradling her hand against his elbow.
"You know I'd do anything for you and Hil," she says. I like her voice. It's throaty and rich.
"You'd do anything?" my father repeats numbly. "Even now? After -?"
"Even now," the woman says firmly. #Quote by Margaret Peterson Haddix

#6. Writing with voice is writing into which someone has breathed. It has that fluency, rhythm, and liveliness that exist naturally in the speech of most people when they are enjoying a conversation ... Writing with real voice has the power to make you pay attention and understand
the words go deep. #Quote by Peter Elbow

#7. Elizabeth," he said, trying not to laugh. "At a wedding reception, the guests cannot leave until the bride and groom retire. If you look over there, you'll notice my great-aunts are already nodding in their chairs."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, instantly contrite. "I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Because," he said, taking her elbow and beginning to guide her from the ballroom, "I wanted you to enjoy every minute of our ball, even if we had to prop the guests up on the shrubbery."
"Speaking of shrubbery," she teased, pausing on the balcony to cast a last fond look at the "arbor" of potted trees with silk blossoms that occupied one-fourth the length of the entire ballroom, "everyone is talking about having gardens and arbors as themes for future balls. I think you've stared a new 'rage.'"
"You should have seen your face," he teased, drawing her away, "when you recognized what I had done."
"We are probably the only couple," she returned her face turned up to his in laughing conspiracy, "ever to lead off a ball by dancing a waltz on the sidelines." When the orchestra had struck up the opening waltz, Ian had led her into the mock "arbor," and they had started the ball from there.
"Did you mind?"
"You know I didn't," she returned, walking beside him up the curving staircase.
He stopped outside her bed chamber, opened the door for her, and started to pull her into his arms, then checked himself as a pair of servants came marching down #Quote by Judith McNaught

#8. It is raining. The clock ticks. I am leaning on my elbow. The wind
blows through the cracks. The door rattles in its frame. My arm is
tired of staying in one position. There is a pressure on the wrist. My
temple burns on one side. I wonder what will happen next. Someone
laughs. If he had heard the rain, the clock, and the door, he would
have kept silent. Had I been laughing, I would not have heard these
things.

Gaze into a cat's eye or a gorilla's. You will notice a peculiar thing that
will make you shudder. sometimes cats claw at human eyes. Some-
times gorillas enrage.

Telepathy and death are wound inextricably together. To see why this
is so, you must understand consciousness. When, late at night in
your bed, you hear a distant automobile, you and the driver are parts
of yourself. When you speak, you are alone and the listener is both
you and himself. Two men, one on the mountain and the other in the
village, cannot communicate. Each is looking into a mirror. Wave,
and *he* waves - shout, and *he* replies. All of us see the same
moon and feel the same heartbeat, but we can never admit it. One
says the moon is a pale disc, another that it is a satellite of the Earth,
a third that it is a silver world. My heart thumps, yours clatters, and his
booms. Consciousness is distortion.

But much telepathy passes unnoti #Quote by E.E. Rehmus

#9. Wow,' says Jonah, leaning his head on an elbow. Do you say 'Thanks' when someone says 'Wow'? I don't know so I play safe and ask 'Do you ever think you might be a different species of human, knitted out of raw DNA in a laboratory like in The Island of Doctor Moreau, and then turned loose to see if you can pass yourself off as normal or not?' Gentle #Quote by David Mitchell

#10. No one showed him how to live in his clothes, how and elbow needs to worry its way through a sweater like the nub of a spring bulb, poking finally, through the rank, wet earth. #Quote by Julie Bruck

#11. She regretted volunteering, as getting off the ship required wading in chest-deep water. It was very cold and took her breath away. Her robe billowed around her as she struggled to find traction in the ground below.

A strong wave struck her from behind and she started to fall face forward. Hadrian caught her by the elbow and held her up.

"Thank you. I thought I was going for a swim there," she told him.

"Bad form on the wave's part, sneaking up and attacking you from the back like that."

"Not very chivalrous, was it?"

"Not at all - I'd complain. #Quote by Michael J. Sullivan

#12. Do not act as if you had ten thousand years to throw away. Death stands at your elbow. Be good for something while you live and it is in your power. #Quote by Marcus Aurelius

#13. [What to do with] Unwanted Gifts

This can be a very sensitive issue for many people. However, here's my very best advice on what to do with unwanted presents: get rid of them. Here's why. Things you really love have a strong, vibrant energy field around them, whereas unwanted presents have uneasy, conflicting energies attached to them that drain you rather than energize you. They actually create an energetic gloom in your home.

The very thought of giving them the elbow is horrifying to some people. "But what about when Aunt Jane comes to visit and that expensive decoration she gave us isn't on the mantelpiece?" Whose mantlepiece is it anyway? If you love the item, fine, but if you keep it in your home out of fear and obligation, you were giving your power away. Every time you walk into the room and see that object, your energy levels drop.

And don't think that out of sight, out of mind will work. You can't keep that gift in the cupboard and just bring it out when Aunt Jane is due to visit. Your subconscious mind still knows you have it on the premises. If you have enough of these unwanted presents around you, your energy network looks like a sieve, with vitality running out all over the place.

Remember, it's the thought that counts. You can appreciate being given the gift without necessarily having to keep it. Try adopting a whole different philosophy about presents. When you give something to someone, give it with love and let it g #Quote by Karen Kingston

#14. He looked like he wanted to say something but his jaw tensed and
instead he let his hand travel from my elbow to my hand, the strong pulse from his fingers like a balm to my injured soul. I raised our entwined hands
and placed them over the steady thumping of his heart a twin of the rhythm in my own chest. I pressed my head to his chest letting the steady pace
of his heart and his citrusy, musky scent envelop me, lull me into a place of security. A place safe enough that I didn't have to pretend I was okay. I
failed to sniff back the tears that began to leak from me. #Quote by Lani Woodland

#15. In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining, May my lot no less fortunate be Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining, And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea; With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn, While I carol away idle sorrow, And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn, Look forward with hope for to-morrow. #Quote by John Churton Collins

#16. If, uh, Luce wants to get out, someone's gonna have to help her down from the window." She drummed her fingers on the table, looking sheepish. "I made a library book barricade near the entrance in case any of the Sword & Cross-eyeds felt inclined to disrupt us."
"Dibs." Cam already had his arm slipped through the crook of Luce's elbow. She started to argue, but none of the other angels seemed to think it was a bad idea. Daniel didn't even notice.
Near the back exit, Shelby and Miles both mouthed Be careful to Luce with varying degrees of fierceness.
Cam walked her to the window, radiating warmth with his smile. He slid the glass pane up and together they looked out at the campus where they'd met, where they'd grown close, where he'd tricked her into kissing him. They weren't all bad memories...
He hopped through the window first, landing smoothly on the ledge, and he held out a hand for hers.
"Milady."
His grip was strong and it made her feel tiny and weightless as Cam drifted down from the ledge, two stories in two seconds. His wings were concealed, but he still moved as gracefully as if he were flying. They landed softly on the dewy grass.
"I take it you don't want my company," he said. "At the cemetery-not, you know, in general."
"Right. No, thanks."
He looked away and reached into his pocket, pulled out a tiny silver bell. It looked ancient, with Hebrew writing on it. He handed it to her. "Just ring when you want a lift bac #Quote by Lauren Kate

#17. Condom," she gasped.
A movement stopped.
"What?"
Phoebe felt the earth open up in preparation of swallowing her. How could she have not mentioned this before?
"I'm not on anything right now," she whispered. "Birth control. I'm not on the Pill." She gestured helplessly.
"Shit, fuck, damn."
Disappointment tied her in knots. "I was really only interested in that middle part," she joked.
There was a second of silence, followed by a low chuckle. "You're never predictable, Phoebe. I'll give you that. Cross your fingers."
"What?"
"Cross your fingers. I might have a condom in my shaving kit."
There was movement and rustling, then the sound of a zipper being opened.
"I'm going to have to put on the light."
She briefly debated being polite and closing her eyes, but who was she kidding? She wanted to see Zane naked. In preparation, she raised up on one elbow and stared in his general direction. When the light came on, she saw all she wanted and more.
He was kneeling at the end of the sleeping bag. Naked, aroused and more physically perfect than any man had a right to be. She saw the definition in his arms, the broad strength of his chest and his flat stomach before lowering her attention to his large, hard penis.
The physical proof of his desire for her made her so happy, she nearly cried. Her other instinct was to part her legs, tell him never mind with birth control and protection and demand he take her right there #Quote by Susan Mallery

#18. He cannot hunt. He cannot sleep. He is angry. He is sad.' The Frenchman ticked off symptoms and jabbed Tom with his elbow. 'He is in love! #Quote by Christine Blevins

#19. A man barreled around a corner, heading straight for the princess. Winter tensed half a second before he reached her. Grabbing Winter's elbow, he yanked back the red hood. Scarlet gasped. Her knees weakened. The man stared at Winter with a mixture of confusion and disappointment and maybe even anger, all locked up in eyes so vividly green Scarlet could see them glowing from here. She #Quote by Marissa Meyer

#20. You never answered," he said. "You got the hots for me, or not?" His dark eyes lit up with a smile.
Squaring her shoulders, Holiday started talking. "Della assumed I might have the hots for you. And you know what they say about assuming, right?"
"It makes an ass out of you and me," Della answered, and gave Kylie the elbow. "Get it. A.S.S.U.M.E."
Holiday cut her eyes to Della in visual reprimand, then started walking away. She got three steps and swung back around. "Are you coming?" she snapped at Burnett.
"You didn't ask me to," He answered.
"Well, I assumed you would know I needed to discuss what happened."
He arched one dark brow upward. "And what did you just about assuming? #Quote by C.C. Hunter

#21. Bend down, bend down. Excess is the only ease,
so bend. The sun is in the tree.
Put your mouth on mine. Bend down
beam & slash, for Dread is dreamed-up-scenes
of what comes after death. Is being
fled from what bends down in pain.
The elbow bends in the brain, lifts the cup.
The worst is yet to dream you up,
so bend down the intrigue
you dreamed. Flee the hayneedle in the brain's
tree.
Excess allures by leaps. Stars burn clean. Oriole bitches and gleams. Dread is the fear of being
less
forever. So bend. Bend down and kiss
what you see. #Quote by Stan Rice

#22. A man's at odds to know his mind cause his mind is aught he has to know it with. He can know his heart, but he dont want to. Rightly so. Best not to look in there. It aint the heart of a creature that is bound in the way that God has set for it. You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the devil was at his elbow. A creature that can do anything. Make a machine. And a machine to make the machine. And evil that can run itself a thousand years, no need to tend it. #Quote by Cormac McCarthy

#23. Never mind about me," she said quickly. "As long as Audrey is happy, that will be enough."
Malcolm stepped closer, shaking his head. "Never let it be enough, lass. People like us, we have to snatch up our happiness as soon as we find it. And not let go."
He lifted her hand to his mouth, his breath burning the skin on the inside of her wrist as he took a tiny bite.
Mary's heart nearly stopped beating. She'd never felt anything like it, the scrape of teeth on sensitive skin, the fire that plunged straight from there to the join of her legs.
Malcolm looked at her, his mouth still at her wrist, the wickedness in his eyes stealing what was left on her breath. He took another little bite, then another. He worked his way up her arm until he stopped by the lace at her elbow.
Malcolm lifted his head. He transferred his fingertips to her cheek, caressing there before he skimmed down her throat to the tops of her breasts. He stood so close now that the rise of his chest touched hers.
Just when Mary thought he would stop, finished, Malcolm leaned to take his lips along the path his fingers had- cheek, throat, breasts. Mary's head went back, her body rising to his mouth, whether she willed it or no.
"You'll ruin me," she whispered.
Malcolm studied her, his amber-colored gaze intense. "Marry me, lass, and I'll ruin ye every day. #Quote by Jennifer Ashley

#24. Brother Cadfael knew better than to be in a hurry, where souls were concerned. There was plenty of elbow-room in eternity. #Quote by Ellis Peters

#25. Do you love him?" I blurted out.
Laadan swallowed and a long pause followed. In the gap, I heard someone moving around in the kitchen.
I started to grin. "You like him."
Looking away, her lips pursed.
I nudged her with my elbow. "You like him a lot."
She drew herself up. "Your father - "
"Is the love of your life?"
Alexandria," she snapped, but there was no real heat to her tone. #Quote by Jennifer L. Armentrout

#26. Uh-huh. I think she was flattered. It'll help fill her bucket." "Huh?" "You know - the bucket ... " "What are you talking about?" "Well, the elementary school teachers talk about the bucket a lot. Everyone has one. When people say nice things to you, do nice things, make you feel better about yourself, they're filling your bucket. When people are mean or insulting or hurtful in any way, they're emptying your bucket and you don't want to go around with an empty bucket. It makes you sad and cranky. And you don't want to be emptying other peoples' buckets - that also makes you unhappy. The best way is to fill all the buckets you can and keep yours nice and full by looking for positive people and experiences." She smiled. Troy leaned his elbow on the bar and rested his head in his hand. "What do I have to do to get a job with you?" "Master's degree in counseling." She took a sip. "Easy peasy. You'd be great. #Quote by Robyn Carr

#27. Everything wooden swells and shrinks, and the nails in everything wooden, the floors and baseboards and window casings, the nails inch out and rust. Everywhere there are rusted nails to step on or snag your elbow on, and there's only one bathroom for the seven #Quote by Chuck Palahniuk

#28. A pale, bored woman in white ankle-socks and a white tasselled beret was sitting on a bentwood chair at the corner entrance to the verandah of the writer's club, where there was an opening in the creeper-grown trellis. In front of her on a plain kitchen table lay a large book like a ledger, in which for no known reason the woman wrote the names of the people entering the restaurant. She stopped Koroviev and Behemoth.

'Your membership cards?' she said, staring in surprise at Koroviev's pince-nez, at Behemoth's Primus and grazed elbow.

'A thousand apologies, madam, but what membership cards?' asked Koroviev in astonishment.

'Are you writers?' asked the woman in return.

'Indubitably,' replied Koroviev with dignity.

'Where are your membership cards?' the woman repeated.

'Dear lady...' Koroviev began tenderly.

'I'm not a dear lady,' interrupted the woman.

'Oh, what a shame,' said Koroviev in a disappointed voice and went on: 'Well, if you don't want to be a dear lady, which would have been delightful, you have every right not to be. But look here - if you wanted to make sure that Dostoyevsky was a writer, would you really ask him for his membership card? Why, you only have to take any five pages of one of his novels and you won't need a membership card to convince you that the man's a writer. I don't suppose he ever had a membership card, anyway! What do you think?' said Koroviev, turning to #Quote by Mikhail Bulgakov

#29. He all but held his breath as he waited for her to force that façade back into place. Or to leave his side just so he would no longer see her girlish delight at the museum and the contents that awaited them. Instead, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and looked up at him with those same shining eyes and wide, real smile. "I cannot wait another moment to see everything - shall we go in?" For a moment, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move as he stared into her eyes and saw so much beauty, so much truth…but then he shook his head and led her into the museum. This was a rare opportunity. He refused to miss a moment of it while he pondered what he had done to deserve it. #Quote by Jess Michaels

#30. I think, for most of us is that once you get to a certain place in your career you're not having to elbow and knock people around and audition for parts. #Quote by Tavis Smiley

#31. She said nothing. She walked beside me, under my elbow sort of, eating. We went on. It was quiet, hardly anyone about getting the odor of honeysuckle all mixed She would have told me not to let me sit there on the steps hearing her door twilight slamming hearing Benjy still crying Supper she would have to come down then getting honeysuckle all mixed up in it We reached the corner. #Quote by William Faulkner

#32. Simon appeared at the doorway behind Tori and Derek. He waved to me and mouthed "run while you can."
Not a bad idea. I snuck around them and zipped out the door to where Simon waited. Then I glanced back at Tori.
"Don't worry about her," he said. "Probably the most fun she's had in days." He led me into the next room. "Sadly, I can't say the same for Derek, and as soon as he stops arguing long enough to notice you're gone - "
"Hey!" Derek called. "Where are you two going?"
Simon took my elbow and steered me at a jog through the house as Derek's footsteps pounded behind us. #Quote by Kelley Armstrong

#33. You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the Devil was at his elbow #Quote by Cormac McCarthy

#34. Love?
Yes.
Gideon chuckled.
Why did you say yes like that?
Oh, I thought you were asking me a question.
I see.
Then he truly did see what she meant, and his heart flipped over in his chest.
Darling?
Gideon smiled at the warmth the endearment flooded him with.
Yes, Neliss?
Oh, nothing. Just fulfilling my end of the deal.
The deal?
Yes. You made me a deal.
You lost me, he sighed.
Legna lifted her head, propped an elbow up against the pillow of his chest, and settled her chin in her palm so she could look down at him.
"You said that I would get something very special if I called you that."
"Did I?" he asked, his eyes brightening with speculation as he thought back on it. "Actually, I think you have that confused with the deal about saying my name."
"I like your name," she said with a smile. "I always thought mine was awful snobbish. But yours has me beat hands down."
"My name is one of the finest and oldest names in all of our history."
"That's only because you have lived to be such an older tosser."
"Tosser?"
"British vernacular, luv."
"What are you, my dialect coach all of a sudden? Is this your idea of postcoital pillow talk?"
Legna giggled, apologizing with a clinging kiss on his lips. It clearly calmed him, making him smile in a very cat-versus-canary way.
"Is there something you would prefer I say?" she asked compliantly.
"That yes a few sentences ba #Quote by Jacquelyn Frank

#35. I barely remember drawing this." Daniel sounded disappointed in himself. "I don't know what it is any more than you do."
"I'm sure that once you get there, you'll be able to figure it out," Gabbe said, trying hard to be encouraging.
"We will," Luce said. "I'm sure we will."
Gabbe blinked, smile, and went on. "Roland, Annabelle, and Arriane-you three will go to Vienna. That leaves-" Her mouth twitched as she realized what she was about to say, but she put on a brave face anyway. "Molly, Cam, and I will take Avalon."
Cam rolled back his shoulders and let out his astoundingly golden wings with a great rush, slamming into Molly's face with his right wing tip and sending her lunging back five feet.
"Do that again and I will wreck you," Molly spat, glaring at a carpet burn on her elbow. "In fact-" She started to go for Cam with her fist raised but Gabbe intervened.
She wrenched Cam and Molly apart with a put-upon sigh. "Speaking of wrecking, I would really rather not have to wreck the next one of you who provokes the other"-she smiled sweetly at her two demon companions-"but I will. This is going to be a very long nine days."
"Let's hope its long," Daniel muttered under his breath.
Luce turned to him. The Venice in her mind was out of a guidebook: postcard of boats jostling down canals, sunsets over tall cathedral spires, and dark-haired girls licking gelato. That wasn't the trip they were about to take. Not with the end of the world reaching #Quote by Lauren Kate

#36. They had run out of words.... Then he and the Lamp were gone.... Ruse swallowed hard and then began counting bones again in the dark. Then when he reached the right elbow he stopped, and started counting suspects. #Quote by Ruth Downie

#37. Damen pushed himself up on an elbow, and propped his head on his hand, his fingers in his hair. He saw that Laurent was looking at him. Not watching him, as he did sometimes, but looking at him, as a man might look at a carving that has caught his attention. #Quote by C.S. Pacat

#38. My waiter friend, Laurent, working at the Brasserie Champs du Mars near the Eiffel Tower, one night while serving me Une Grande Beer, explained his life. "I work from ten to twelve hours, sometimes fourteen," he says, "and then at midnight I go dancing, dancing, dancing until four or five in the morning and go to bed and sleep until ten and then up, up and to work by eleven and another ten or twelve or sometimes fifteen hours of work." "How can you do that?" I ask. "Easily," he says. "To be asleep is to be dead. It is like death. So we dance, we dance so as not to be dead. We do not want that." "How old are you?" I ask, at last. "Twenty-three," he says. "Ah," I say and take his elbow gently. "Ah. Twenty-three, is it?" "Twenty-three," he says, smiling. "And you?" "Seventy-six," I say. "And I do not want to be dead, either. But I am not twenty-three. How can I answer? What do I do?" "Yes," says Laurent, still smiling and innocent, "what do you do at three in the morning?" "Write," I say, at last. "Write!" Laurent says, astonished. "Write?" "So as not to be dead," I say. "Like you." "Me?" "Yes," I say, smiling now, myself. "At three in the morning, I write, I write, I write! #Quote by Ray Bradbury

#39. She stepped forward as if to pick up the fur she'd tossed over a chair. Smoothly, she turned to hand it to him. And with perfect timing, flung herself into his arms.

The sable fell as he took her shoulders to shove her back.

Eve stepped to the doorway to see Magdelana with her arms locked around Roarke's neck, his hands on her bare shoulders--one of the ivory straps sliding to her elbow.

"Son of a bitch," she said.

On cue, Magdelana spun around, her face full of passion and shock. "Oh, God. Oh...it's not what it looks like."

"Bet." Eve strode in.

Actually, Roarke thought, it was more of a swagger. He had a moment to admire it, before Eve rammed her fist in his face.

"Fuck me." His head snapped back, and he tasted blood.

Magdelana cried out, but even the deaf would have caught the suppressed laughter in the sound. "Roarke! Oh, my God, you're bleeding. Please, let me just--"

"Don't look now," Eve said cheerfully. "But he's not the only one." She decked Magdelana with a straight-armed jab. "Bitch," Eve added as Magdelana's eyes rolled back and she fell, unconscious, to the floor.

Roarke looked down. "Well, now, fuck us all. #Quote by J.D. Robb

#40. She lifted the cup to her lips. "You make good coffee."
"You haven't tasted it yet."
"I can smell it. And I love the way it smells."
It's not the coffee, he thought. Not all of it, at any rate.
"Well, I love your perfume," he said, because he was a dolt.
She frowned. "I'm not wearing any. I mean, other than the soap and shampoo I use."
"Well, I like them, then. And I'm glad you stayed."
"Is this what you planned?"
Their eyes met. Shit, she was perfect. Radiant as the candles had been.
"You making it all the way to the coffee? Yeah, I guess a date was what I was after."
"I thought you agreed with me."
Man, that breathless quality in her voice made him want to have her up against his naked chest.
"Agreed with you?" he said. "Hell, if it would make you happy, I'd say yes to anything. But what are you specifically referring to?"
"You said…I shouldn't date anyone."
Ah, right. "You shouldn't."
"I don't understand."
Fuck him, but he went for it. Rehv put his numb elbow on the table and leaned into her. As he closed the distance, her eyes got wider, but she didn't pull back.
He paused, to give her a chance to tell him to cut the shit. Why? He had no clue. His symphath side was into pauses only for analysis or to better capitalize on a weakness. But she made him want to be decent.
Ehlena didn't tell him to step off, however.
"I don't…understand," she whispered.
"It's #Quote by J.R. Ward

#41. I thought the same thing, exactly. We always say that. you said it--you should have refused to go to Rolny. I said it as soon as I got to Elbow; I'm a free man. I didn't have to come here!...We always think it, and say it, but we don't do it. We keep our initiative tucked away safe in our mind, like a room where we can come and say, 'I don't have to do anything, I make my own choices, I'm free.' And then we leave the little room in our mind, and go where PDC posts us, and stay till we're reposted. #Quote by Ursula K. Le Guin

#42. I bunched the squirrel-fur hat up under my head and left the pack for Mal to use as a pillow. Then I pulled my coat close around me and huddled beneath the new furs. I was nodding off when I heard Mal return and settle himself beside me, his back pressed comfortably against mine. As I drifted into sleep, I felt like I could still taste the sugar from that sweet roll on my tongue, feel the pleasure of laughter gusting through me. We'd been robbed. We'd almost been killed. We were being hunted by the most powerful man in Ravka. But we were friends again, and sleep came more easily than it had in a long time. At some point during the night, I woke to Mal's snoring. I jabbed him in the back with my elbow. He rolled onto his side, muttered something in his sleep, and threw his arm over me. A minute later he started snoring again, but this time I didn't wake him. #Quote by Leigh Bardugo