ellie sg > ellie's Quotes

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”
― Emily Jane Brontë , Wuthering Heights

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”
― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

“I have little left in myself -- I must have you. The world may laugh -- may call me absurd, selfish -- but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.”
― Jeffrey McDaniel

“All that existed was Jace; all she felt, hoped, breathed, wanted, and saw was Jace. Nothing else mattered.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

“She stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "I'm a f*cking human being! You can't just kidnap me like this and expect me to do whatever the hell you say."
"I can. And I did. And you will."
Fire warmed her gray eyes. "Or what? You'll kill me?" She pushed herself up from the floor, and I could practically see her entire body vibrating with her anger. It was fucking beautiful. A rage that rivaled my own. "Go ahead," she spit the words at me. "Death would be preferable to staying here with you and being your puppet." God, she was stunning. And infuriating. My own men didn't mouth off to me the way this woman did. I crossed the room and stood directly in front of her before she had time to run. Grabbing her jaw, I forced her to look at me. "Keep mouthing off to me, Veda. I dare you."
Taking a step back, she jerked her chin from my grasp, then slapped me across the face. Hard. A deadly calm came over me. Slowly, I turned my head back around until our gazes clashed. Whatever she saw there wiped the rebellious look from her face. A heartbeat passed. Then another...”
― Angel Rayne, His Game

“Are you deliberately torturing me?” he growls.
My heart kicks. Wild and unrhythmic. “Torturing you?”
He raises the scotch, downing the contents in one fell swoop before returning the glass to his side. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
There’s a warning in his voice. A delicious subtle threat.
My throat tightens. My chest, too. Everything is so painfully, invigoratingly restricted that I have to fight hard to maintain level breathing.
I raise my other leg, crossing both at the ankles against the rim of the tub. I shouldn’t be doing this. Warning bells ring in the farthest recesses of my mind. If only they were loud enough to put a stop to the craziness. “Join me.”
His jaw ticks. That’s his only response. No movement. No words.
“Matthew?”
His features tighten, almost setting in a glower as he grates, “Be sure about this, Layla.”
“I think I am,” I lie. I’m not even partially certain. I’m running on instinct alone. No, not instinct—infatuation. 
“Then I’m staying where I am.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the glass moving to rest in the crook of his arm. “I’m on the precipice here. I can only pretend to be a stand-up guy for so long, then I’m going to start pushing my own agenda. So don’t play with me, amore mio.”
― Eden Summers, Seeking Vengeance

“Isydoris shot Azhrael an incredulous glare and whispered in dismay, “You are going to have a man gutted alive for spreading gossip?!”

“No, of course not. Gutting him alive is not enough. I have also ordered them to cut out his tongue,” he joked in a calm tone, then turned deadly serious. “Nobody speaks ill of my woman.”

Isydoris shook her head in numb disbelief. “But what would be the point of such barbaric punishment? This man will die, and people will continue to talk. Even you cannot silence every malicious tongue in the empire.”

“Watch me,” he proclaimed with firm determination. “My sweet, it remains to be seen what I cannot accomplish by the sheer force of my will. I do not care how much blood needs to be spilled, but the commoners will learn to utter your name with caution and respect. I shall settle for nothing less.”
― Astrid Jane Ray, The Queen of Aessarion

“Every inch of you belongs to me,” Afron whispered. “From your ears” -- he nibbled delicately at one -- “to your lips” -- another nibble -- “to your chest” -- a swipe of his tongue met Makara’s flesh -- “to your belly” -- a lingering tickle of the tip of Afron’s tongue in Makara’s belly button -- “to your marvelous, thick cock.”
― D.C. Juris, Heart of Stars

“Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself, Love possesses not nor would it be possessed: For love is sufficient unto love.”
― Khalil Gibran, The Prophet

“I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.”
― Margaret Atwood

“Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.
Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
without a mouth I can swear your name.

Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you
with my heart as with a hand.
Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.
And if you consume my brain with fire,
I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke

“I wish I knew how to quit you.”
― Annie Proulx, Brokeback Mountain

“I love you so much that nothing can matter to me - not even you...Only my love- not your answer. Not even your indifference”
― Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

“And when I look around the apartment where I now am,—when I see Charlotte’s apparel lying before me, and Albert’s writings, and all those articles of furniture which are so familiar to me, even to the very inkstand which I am using,—when I think what I am to this family—everything. My friends esteem me; I often contribute to their happiness, and my heart seems as if it could not beat without them; and yet—if I were to die, if I were to be summoned from the midst of this circle, would they feel—or how long would they feel—the void which my loss would make in their existence? How long! Yes, such is the frailty of man, that even there, where he has the greatest consciousness of his own being, where he makes the strongest and most forcible impression, even in the memory, in the heart of his beloved, there also he must perish,—vanish,—and that quickly.

I could tear open my bosom with vexation to think how little we are capable of influencing the feelings of each other. No one can communicate to me those sensations of love, joy, rapture, and delight which I do not naturally possess; and though my heart may glow with the most lively affection, I cannot make the happiness of one in whom the same warmth is not inherent.

Sometimes I don’t understand how another can love her, is allowed to love her, since I love her so completely myself, so intensely, so fully, grasp nothing, know nothing, have nothing but her!

I possess so much, but my love for her absorbs it all. I possess so much, but without her I have nothing.

One hundred times have I been on the point of embracing her. Heavens! what a torment it is to see so much loveliness passing and repassing before us, and yet not dare to lay hold of it! And laying hold is the most natural of human instincts. Do not children touch everything they see? And I!

Witness, Heaven, how often I lie down in my bed with a wish, and even a hope, that I may never awaken again! And in the morning, when I open my eyes, I behold the sun once more, and am wretched. If I were whimsical, I might blame the weather, or an acquaintance, or some personal disappointment, for my discontented mind; and then this insupportable load of trouble would not rest entirely upon myself. But, alas! I feel it too sadly; I am alone the cause of my own woe, am I not? Truly, my own bosom contains the source of all my pleasure. Am I not the same being who once enjoyed an excess of happiness, who at every step saw paradise open before him, and whose heart was ever expanded towards the whole world? And this heart is now dead; no sentiment can revive it. My eyes are dry; and my senses, no more refreshed by the influence of soft tears, wither and consume my brain. I suffer much, for I have lost the only charm of life: that active, sacred power which created worlds around me,—it is no more. When I look from my window at the distant hills, and behold the morning sun breaking through the mists, and illuminating the country around, which is still wrapped in silence, whilst the soft stream winds gently through the willows, which have shed their leaves; when glorious Nature displays all her beauties before me, and her wondrous prospects are ineffectual to extract one tear of joy from my withered heart,—I feel that in such a moment I stand like a reprobate before heaven, hardened, insensible, and unmoved. Oftentimes do I then bend my knee to the earth, and implore God for the blessing of tears, as the desponding labourer in some scorching climate prays for the dews of heaven to moisten his parched corn.”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther

“Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?”
― William Butler Yeats, The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats

“and I looked and looked at her, and knew as clearly as I know I am to die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth, or hoped for anywhere else. She was only the faint violet whiff and dead leaf echo of the nymphet I had rolled myself upon with such cries in the past; an echo on the brink of a russet ravine, with a far wood under a white sky, and brown leaves choking the brook, and one last cricket in the crisp weeds... but thank God it was not that echo alone that I worshipped. What I used to pamper among the tangled vines of my heart, mon grand pch radieux, had dwindled to its essence: sterile and selfish vice, all that I cancelled and cursed. You may jeer at me, and threaten to clear the court, but until I am gagged and halfthrottled, I will shout my poor truth. I insist the world know how much I loved my Lolita, this Lolita, pale and polluted, and big with another’s child, but still gray-eyed, still sooty-lashed, still auburn and almond, still Carmencita, still mine; Changeons de vie, ma Carmen, allons vivre quelque, part o nous ne serons jamais spars; Ohio? The wilds of Massachusetts? No matter, even if those eyes of hers would fade to myopic fish, and her nipples swell and crack, and her lovely young velvety delicate delta be tainted and torneven then I would go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of your dear wan face, at the mere sound of your raucous young voice, my Lolita.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“Mine first --mine last-- mine even in the grave!”
― Louisa May Alcott

“Wars fought over a face like this,” he murmured like he was talking to himself, my heart stopped beating and his thumbs moved lightly across my cheeks. “A man would work himself into the ground for it, go down to his knees to beg to keep it, endure torture to protect it, take a bullet for it,” his eyes came to mine, “poison his brother to possess a face like this.”
― Kristen Ashley, Knight

“You look just as I hoped you would.'

From the cobwebs of my memory, I recalled similar words Tamlin had once whispered in my ear. 'If this necessary?' I said, gesturing to the paint and clothing.

'Of course,' he said coolly. 'How else would I know if anyone touches you?'

He approached, and I braced myself as he ran a finger along my shoulder, smearing the paint. As soon as his finger left my skin, the paint fixed itself, returning the design to its original form. 'The dress itself won't mar it, and neither will your movements,' he said, his face close to mine. His teeth were far too near to my throat. 'And I'll remember precisely where my hands have been. But if anyone else touches you- let's say a certain High Lord who enjoys springtime- I'll know.' He flicked my nose. 'And, Feyre,' he added, his voice a caressing murmur, 'I don't like my belongings tampered with.'

Ice wrapped around my stomach. He owned me for a week every month. Apparently, he thought that extended to the rest of my life, too.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“I no longer fear the pain...I fear no release from this torture...knowing that I've hurt him and he can't forgive me...that he won't be able to make me his good girl again.”
― Willow Madison, True Beginnings

“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you.”
― Jane Austen, Persuasion

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.”
― Jane Austen, Persuasion

“Holding her tight against him, he said, "I am the blood in your veins, the marrow in your bones. You'll never go anywhere without knowing I'm inside you, supporting you, keeping you alive. I am a part of you. You are a part of me. We are forever.”
― Christina Dodd, Lost in Your Arms

“His lips moved to her ear as his hand danced over her lace covered sex. "Other men look at you and I want to rip their eyes out." His fingers gripped her inner thigh, causing her to jolt and cry out.”
― H.S. Howe, Willfully Wanton

“I did indeed say you could have lovers. But I never promised that I would not kill them.”
― Madeline Hunter, Ravishing in Red