Quotes & Sayings About Being Held Down

As the sun went down, I saw a solitary boatman disporting on the smooth lake. The falling dews seemed to strain and purify the air, and I was soothed with an infinite stillness. I got the world, as it were, by the nape of the neck, and held it under in the tide of its own events, till it was drowned, and then I let it go down stream like a dead dog. Vast hollow chambers of silence stretched away on every side, and my being expanded in proportion, and filled them. Then first could I appreciate sound, and find it musical. — Henry David Thoreau

Eleanor had a long-held theory about men. She truly believed that for most men, all that talk of "being in love" or "finding the right one" was absolute nonsense. Marriage was purely a matter of timing, and whenever a man was finally done sowing his wild oats and ready to settle down, whichever girl happened to be there at the time would be the right one. — Kevin Kwan

She always said that she respected and liked us all equally, and I have to say that that attitude didn't go down well with me, accustomed as I was to being singled out and held up in a special way. — Jamaica Kincaid

Well apparently nothing as of December 13, 1978. There was 20 trained police officers came to the house, with a warrant..searched the house, and they went down in the crawlspace ... while I was being held at the jail in Des Plaines, Illinois. They never took anything from the crawlspace other than bringing up lime into the house. There also were no mounds of dirt like what is mentioned in books. — John Wayne Gacy

That was me under the bath and the water being held down. The director wanted it to look as real as possible so he told Keanu, in front of me, don't go easy on her. So it was scary. — Rachel Weisz

Most Germans, so far as I could see, did not seem to mind that their personal freedom had been taken away, that so much of their splendid culture was being destroyed and replaced with a mindless barbarism, or that their life and work were being regimented to a degree never before experienced even by a people accustomed for generations to a great deal of regimentation ... On the whole, people did not seem to feel that they were being cowed and held down by an unscrupulous tyranny. On the contrary, they appeared to support it with genuine enthusiasm — William L. Shirer

Look,Nik.I can't lose you. We can be partners.With you by my side,and with the band backing us,we could take over. I want you by my side in the High Court?"
"What does that even mean? We'd be ... together? Like, together, together?"
Cole gave a sly smile. "We'd rule hand in hand. And as far as being together, we'd be as together as you'd allow."
Annoyingly,my cheeks got all warm, and I turned away, frustrated at my reaction. I stood and went over to my desk chair to sit down.
Cole chuckled. He pushed himself off the floor and walked closer to me,and the Shade at my shoulder pulled toward him. I wanted to hit it.
"Stay over there," I said.
"Why?" He held his hands up, all innocent-like. "Does my nearness affect you? That's what happens when you spend a century with someone. — Brodi Ashton

The relief of being clasped firmly, held close by his hands, was so great that Amanda couldn't hold back a sudden gasp. He nuzzled into her bare throat, kissing, tasting, and her knees wobbled at the sensations that streaked through her. "Beautiful Amanda," he muttered, his breath rushing fast and hot against her skin. "A chuisle mo chroi... I said that to you once before, remember?"
"You didn't tell me what it meant," she managed to say, resting her soft cheek on his shaven, faintly scratchy one.
He pulled his head back and stared down at her with shadowed eyes that looked black instead of blue. His broad chest moved jerkily from the force of his breathing. "The very pulse of my heart," he whispered. "From the first moment we met, Amanda, I knew how it would be between us. — Lisa Kleypas

To make his point, Ivan staged a sensational demonstration. Some time before Christmas he had arrested two Lithuanians employed in the Moscow Kremlin. He charged them with plotting to poison him. The accusations against Jan Lukhomski and Maciej the Pole did not sound very credible; but their guilt or innocence was hardly relevant. They were held in an open cage on the frozen Moskva River for all the world to see; and on the eve of the departure of Ivan's envoy to Lithuania, they were burned alive in their cage.50 As the ice melted under the fierce heat of the fire and the heavy iron cage sank beneath the water, taking its carbonized occupants down in a great hiss of steam, one could have well imagined that something was being said about Lithuania's political future. — Norman Davies

He pleaded with his eyes to remain there. The driver was perplexed. His comrades talked of how a dog could break its heart through being denied the work that killed it, and recalled instances they had known, where dogs, too old for the toil, or injured, had died because they were cut out of the traces. Also, they held it a mercy, since Dave was to die anyway, that he should die in the traces, heart-easy and content. So he was harnessed in again, and proudly he pulled as of old, though more than once he cried out involuntarily from the bite of his inward hurt. Several times he fell down and was dragged in the traces, and once the sled ran upon him so that he limped thereafter in one of his hind legs. — Jack London

What is this place?" Now that they'd stopped, his body registered violent objection to the abuse of a mile's walk down the mountain. Hell. To pay. Pandelion whined.
"Home," replied Miss Willow.
He held out his hand for the key.
She sighed. "You're a very managing sort."
"I am a man, Miss Willow."
"I dislike being managed."
"Alas," said Sebastian. — Carolyn Jewel

Of course I want you," she said right in his ear. "I love you." He let loose some kind of hoarse word, and his arms crushed her to him. As she found herself not being able to breathe because he was squeezing her so tight, she thought, Yup, this really was him. And he wasn't going to let her go this time. Thank. God. As he held Jane up off the ground, Vishous was wholly happy. Complete in a way that having all your fingers and toes couldn't hold a candle to. With a shout of triumph, he carried her into her condo, pausing only to put the garage door down. — J.R. Ward

But I can't see how anyone could believe that you killed the bear with a pitchfork,' I said.
'I didn't. I only wounded it - badly, I think, but not enough to put it out of action. It came blundering towards me, I stepped aside and it crashed head-first into the river - I could hear it threshing about in the darkness. I picked up a big stone - poor brute, I hated to do it but I had to finish it off. It gave just one groan as the stone hit it and then went down. I held the lantern high; I could see the bubbles coming up. And then I saw the dark bulk of it under the water, being carried along by the current.'
'But you didn't have a lantern,' I said.
'He didn't have a bear,' said Topaz. — Dodie Smith

I didn't fully process this concept until I was on my way back to the States. A few thousand feet over the Atlantic, I began to unpack this idea I had held, unquestioned, for so long. Was having an adventure really about doing the most daring, bold, energetic thing? Was it about having stories to tell at cocktail parties? Was it about freedom and travel and not being tied down? Or did it have something to do with your own heart and your own courage, in whatever form that came? — Various

Humble people walk comfortably in every group. No one is either too beneath them or too above them for their own sense of well-being. They are who they are, people with as much to give as to get, and they know it. And because they're at ease with themselves, they can afford to be open with others... Having discovered who we are and having opened ourselves to life and having learned to be comfortable with it, we know that God is working in us. We know, most of all, that whatever happens we have nothing to fear... we are free of the false hopes and false faces and false needs that once held us down. We can fly now. Let all the others scratch and grapple for the plastic copy of life. We have found the real thing. — Joan D. Chittister

Exactly what she was doing - tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and wove crooked paths down her cheeks. How could she have been so insensitive to her own sister? Chapter 24 All week Cassie had worked feverishly to put Steve out of her mind, but it hadn't worked. She couldn't wait to see him, and a week had never dragged on for so long. Nothing felt the same without him at the construction site, running the project. Saturday morning, Cassie was up early. The Hoedown was being held in an airport hangar, and a lot of work had to be done in order to get the space ready. Several other volunteers arrived to work off their hours by putting up long folding tables and chairs, placing red-and-white checkered plastic tablecloths across the tables, and then setting the tables, lining each place setting up perfectly. To the front of the hangar was a mechanical bull quartered off with stacks of hay. In the middle of the room were tables displaying — Debbie Macomber

Thought, sitting there, that everything is magic. Using things connects them to you, being in the world connects you to the world, the sun streams down magic and people and animals and plants grow from sunlight and the world turns and everything is magic. Fairies are more in the magic than in the world, and people are more in the world than in the magic. Maybe fairies, the ones that aren't lost dead people, are concentrations, personifications, of the magic? And God? God is in everything, moving through everything, is the pattern that everything makes, moving. That's why messing with magic so often becomes evil, because it's going against that pattern. I could almost see the pattern as the sun and clouds succeeded each other over the hills and I held the pain a little bit away, where it didn't hurt me. — Jo Walton

It's just as well I'm not claustrophobic. Even so, being held captive in a bottle was not how I'd planned to spend my weekend. It was also one of the most undignified positions I've ever been in; a water sprite can be squished down pretty small, but it doesn't mean we enjoy the process. — Deborah Jay

I held down as many jobs as I could find, from being a waiter to working at a yoga studio and as a ticket-taker at a small theater company - anything that would allow me to go out and do auditions. — John Krasinski

I shrugged uncomfortably, leaning my head against hers, almost forgetting Mr. Gardner's presence as Mo and I fell into that sort of exclusionary, near-telepathic best-friends communion. She knew that I would argue that I wasn't ashamed, but that I hadn't quite figured out how to truly mean it when I held my head up high. My entire life, people had been telling me to keep it down and stop being an embarrassment. So, I was still in that "fake it 'til you make it" stage, hoping genuine pride would come if I pretended confidence long enough. For now, I was relying on bravado and a complete lack of give-a-fuck to carry me through. — Amelia C. Gormley

He settled his big hands on her hips. He let them slide slowly down to cup her ass which she had jammed into a Spanx hide and seek high rise panty. Before slipping on the slinky purple faux wrap dress that her daughter had given her after surviving being held at gunpoint together gift the prior fall. Stella was fairly sure she would enjoy the sensation of Goat's strong fingers kneading her flesh if it hadn't gotten numb in its fierce polyester lycra prison hours ago. — Sophie Littlefield

I am a scholar and a pupil who has been lulled to sleep by the meagre fire of a mind too humble. I have been too much burned, and my injured mind has accumulated too much passion; for tormenting itself with the defending of our sex, my mind sighs, conscious of its obligation. For all things - those deeply rooted inside us as well as those outside us - are being laid at the door of our sex.
In addition, I, who have always held virtue in high esteem and considered private things as secondary importance, shall wear down and exhaust my pen writing against those men who are garrulous and puffed up with false pride. I shall not fail to obstruct tenaciously their treacherous snares. And I shall strive a war of vengeance against the notorious abuse of those who fill everything with noise, since armed with such abuse, certain insane and infamous men bark and bare their teeth in vicious wrath at the republic of women, so worthy of veneration. — Laura Cereta

Hunted what?" Shea held her breath, afraid of what he might say.
"Beautiful women, little one, and I was the one who found you after all." His white teeth gleamed at her, a definite leer.
"Don't put me off like that." She had already taken advantage, sliding easily into his mind and picking out the pictures of danger and revulsion. Fear even. Not so much of their adversary, but of themselves turning into the very thing they sought to destroy.
Jacques, unprepared for her entrance into his mind, had been confident he could keep the grimmer side of their existence watered down for her. Shea had always been reluctant to enter his mind; it hadn't occurred to him that she would do so whenever she wanted.
His expression was so rueful that Shea burst out laughing. "Where I grew up, that's called being caught with your pants down."
He looked down at his body, glistening with the rain. His grin was self-mocking, his black eyes amused. "Literally. — Christine Feehan

I cant take it like this much longer, Milt," Karen said muffledly into the big CKC shirt with its male smell, allowing herself the luxury of letting the bars all the way down for once, enjoying for just this moment the eternal degradation of being a woman.
"I cant take it much longer," she whimpered, tasting it, the eternally caught and held hard in the grasp of some man, the forever humiliated heavy weight it was impossible to squirm out from under, the forever helpless except for the mercy of him who always takes what he wants without any, and that all women learn instinctively not to expect [ ... ] That was all they wanted. That was all any of them wanted. You give them the greatest thing you possess, the most intimate secret, and they
just take it. Well, let them have it. Let them all have some of it. Let them root and rut and rowel, as if it was no more important than that why were they all so anxious to keep it away from each other? — James Jones

But just as water carried Moses to his destiny down the Nile, so water carried another baby from a woman's body into an expectant world. Wrapped now in flesh, the God who once hovered over the waters was plunged beneath them at the hands of a wild-eyed wilderness preacher. When God emerged, he spoke of living water that forever satisfies and of being born again. He went fishing and washed his friends' feet. He touched the ceremonially unclean. He spit in the dirt, cast demons into the ocean, and strolled across an angry sea. He got thirsty and he wept. — Rachel Held Evans

Anyone who says that life matters less to an animal than it does to us has not held in his hands an animal fighting for its life. The whole of the being of the animal is thrown into that fight, without reserve. When you say that the fight lacks a dimension of intellectual or imaginative horror, I agree. It is not the mode of being animals to have an intellectual horror: their whole being is in the living flesh ... I urge you to walk, flank to flank, beside the beast that is prodded down the chute to his executioner. — J.M. Coetzee

Suddenly something came over me. It was as if I was possessed by an evil spirit. I called Amberline's name in a voice that sounded like it came from the depths of hell. As Jimmy cocked his pistol, I quickly squatted down, breaking Jedidiah's grip, going down just a fraction of a second before Jimmy pulled the trigger. The bullet left the barrel and went straight to where I was being held and plunged into Jedidiah's chest." ". From Fear and Retribution — The Prophet Of Life

What does the radicalism of radical writers nowadays amount to? Most of it is hand-me-down bohemianism, sentimental populism, D. H. Lawrence-and-water, or imitation Sartre. For American writers radicalism is a question of honor. They must be radicals for the sake of their dignity. They see it as their function, and a noble function, to say Nay, and to bite not only the hand that feeds them (and feeds them with comic abundance, I might add) but almost any other hand held out to them. Their radicalism, however, is contentless. A genuine radicalism, which truly challenges authority, we need desperately. But a radicalism of posture is easy and banal. Radical criticism requires knowledge, not posture, not slogans, not rant. People who maintain their dignity as artists, in a small way, by being mischievous on television, simply delight the networks and the public. True radicalism requires homework - thought. Of the cleans, on the other hand, there isn't much to say. They seem faded. — Saul Bellow

Agreeing completely, Zarya came to an abrupt halt as she saw the small side table that had been pulled out for them. "Small" being the operative word. It must have been an end table in the conference room. The chairs were tiny foldaways with stained gray cushions. And while the linens were clean, they, too, were stained in places. It was the ultimate slap in the face. But for Darling, she'd be throwing a tantrum over it. Instead, she smiled at the woman and graciously sat down while Maris followed suit. Never let them know how much they've hurt you. Don't give them the satisfaction. Her father had raised her on those principles and she held them tight. Starskas didn't flinch or bitch. They got even. Lady — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Hair, to Tillie, meant nothing by way of being a woman's crowning glory. It was merely, as the dictionary so ably states, small horny, fibrous tubes with
bulbous roots, growing out of the skins of mammals; and it was meant to be combed down as flat as possible and held in place with countless wire hairpins. — Bess Streeter Aldrich

We're seeing the reality of a lot of the North Pole starting to evaporate, and we could get to a tipping point. Because if it evaporates to a certain point - they have lanes now where ships can go that couldn't ever sail through before. And if it gets to a point where it evaporates too much, there's a lot of tundra that's being held down by that ice cap. — Henry Waxman

But Jess was sliding breathlessly down into the waiting sky, so she couldn't find the words to tell TillyTilly that sisters was something about being held without hands, and the skin-flinch of seeing and simultaneously being seen. — Helen Oyeyemi

- What is it about you?" he repeated. "How does touching you calm me down and excite me at the same time? What is it you want from me? You never ask. Sometimes I wonder, is this a trick?" His eyes on hers, he backed her slowly toward the bed. "Just a way to pull me in? But it's not. You're not built that way."
- "Why would I want anything I had to trick out of you?"
- "You don't." He lifted her, held, then laid her on the bed. "So you pull me in. And I end up being the one who's lost."
She framed his face with her hands. "I'll find you. — Nora Roberts

Social support is not the same as merely being in the presence of others. The critical issue is reciprocity: being truly heard and seen by the people around us, feeling that we are held in someone else's mind and heart. For our physiology to calm down, heal, and grow we need a visceral feeling of safety. No doctor can write a prescription for friendship and love: These are complex and hard-earned capacities. — Bessel A. Van Der Kolk

The most precious item travelling the route was silk, which was generated in Serica and packed on caravans in ever-increasing amounts destined for settlements far away - including the capital of the Romans. The silk-laden caravans were nothing new to the old guide; they had been journeying for hundreds of years across watersheds and snow-clad mountain passes of the Zagros and down past his residence. The caravans transporting silk into the Parthian regions in the form of annual tributes or trade were considered "untouchable," and the repercussions would be murderous due to silk being one of Parthia's main currencies. Silk was a commodity that knew no recession and held a value high enough that it could be traded for nearly anything. Crassus's motivation to conquer Parthia was accordingly revealed: he wanted a monopoly on the Road of Silk! — Jono Zago

Relationships, be they with friends or prospective mates, should be special. Each relationship deserved to be equal, unique, and not compared to any other relationship. The friendship, or more, should stand on its own, and not be held up by any one side. It should resonate with something inside you, connecting with the parts of you not everyone understands. Each relationship should bring many more good times, than it does bad. It should bring you up if you're down, and hold you when you can't hold yourself. Most of all, each relationship should be weighted, against being alone, and if your heart doesn't say two would be better than one, you need to walk away. I didn't have a boyfriend because I hadn't found anyone who valued the same things I did. I didn't have many friends because I applied a lot of the same values to friendships. I had great friends, — N.E. Conneely

He glanced down at his naked chest. "Where's my shirt?" Cheeks heating, Tori reached behind him and snagged the dangling shirt sleeve and held it open for him to push his left arm through. When she finally found the wherewithal to look him in the face again, the teasing look in his pain-filled eyes nearly toppled her onto her backside. "Knew you liked my muscles." Of all the . . . Oh, who was she kidding? She did like his muscles. Though they both knew that had nothing to do with his shirt being undone. "Modesty is obviously not one of your virtues." She'd tried to make the statement sound prim, but it filtered through her smile and came out sounding flirtatious instead. Her. Flirtatious. Good grief. Head injuries must be contagious. Offering — Karen Witemeyer

She went as through a forest
the columns were furrowed like ancient trees, and in through the forest flowed the light, many-hued and clear as song, from the pictured windows. High up above her, beasts and men sported among the stone leafage, and angels played
and yet far, dizzily far higher, the vaulting soared, lifting the church towards God. In a hall that lay to one side, worship was being held at an altar. Kristin sank down on her knees by a pillar. The singing cut into her like a too strong light. Now she saw how low she lay in the dust ... Pater noster. Credo in unum Deum. Ave Maria, gratia plena. — Sigrid Undset

He held up a hand. "You've come perilously close to being written up for insubordination, Lieutenant. I expect better control from you, and have rarely had the need to remind you of it."
"Yes, sir."
"Moreover, I find myself insulted both on a personal and professional level that you assumed I had or would approve an asinine schedule that pulls you off a priority."
"I apologize, Commander, and can only offer the weak excuse that any and all contact with Lee Chang results in my temporary insanity."
"Understood." Whitney turned the disc over in his hand. "It surprises me, Dallas, that you didn't shove this down his throat."
"Actually, sir, I had another orifice in mind."
His lips quirked, just slightly. Then he snapped the disc in two, just as she had.
"Thank you, Commander."
"Let's get this damn circus over with, so we can both get back to work. — J.D. Robb

I looked at other couples and wondered how they could be so calm about it. They held hands as if they weren't even holding hands. When Steve and I held hands, I had to keep looking down to marvel at it. There was my hand, the same hand I've always had - oh, but look! What is it holding? It's holding Steve's hand! Who is Steve? My three-dimensional boyfriend. Each day I wondered what would happen next. What happens when you stop wanting, when you are happy. I supposed I would go on being happy forever. I knew I would not mess things up by growing bored. I had done that once before. — Miranda July

Exhausted, hardly knowing what she was doing, she came the last three steps and sat, took the man in her arms, actually held him, gazing out of her smudged eyes down the stairs, back into the morning. She felt wetness against her breast and saw that he was crying again. He hardly breathed but tears came as if being pumped. "I can't help," she whispered, rocking him, "I can't help." It was already too many miles to Fresno. — Thomas Pynchon

When the sun of consciousness first shone upon me, behold a miracle! The stock of my young life which had perished, steeped in the waters of knowledge grew again, budded again, was sweet again with the blossoms of childhood. Down in the depths of my being, I cried, 'it is good to be alive!' I held out two trembling hands to life, and in vain silence would impose dumbness upon me henceforth! The world to which I awoke was still mysterious; but there was hope and love and God in it, and nothing else mattered. Is it not possible that our entrance into heaven may be like this experience of mine? — Helen Keller

But I was held down to earth by being constantly reminded that the world expects much of the gifted and that having talent is never an excuse for not using it. — Tove Jansson

Being held down and secured just made me all the harder. I'll probably be speaking in tongues by the time this is over. — John Ellison

Lord, so many things skitter through my mind, and I give chase to gather them and hold them up in a bunch to you, but they go this way and that while I go that way and this ... So, gather me up instead
and bless what eludes my grasp but not yours: trees and bees, fireflies and butterflies, roses and barbecues, and people ... Lord, the people ... bless the people: birthday people, giving birth people, being born people; conformed people,
dying people, dead people; hostaged people, banged up people, held down people; leader people, lonely people, limping people; hungry people,
surfeited — Ted Loder

First of all, you don't want me to get too hungry. Ever. I'm an ever worse bastard than normal and having starved for centuries, I'm not about to deprive myself again when I don't have to. Second, let me tell you something about your 'friends.' Deimos held me down while I was branded and then took me to the human realm where I was left with nothing. No clothes, no money. Not a damn thing to call my own. Hence the aforementioned starvation. A hundred years later, M'Ordant dumped my inside a Spartan prison camp and told the commander I was a traitor to their people. You don't really want to know what the Spartans did to people they thought betrayed them. D'Alerian had me put inside a Turkish prison in the fifteenth century where I was impaled after being tortured for three weeks. So you'll have to excuse me if I have a hard time feeling too sorry for them right now. At least no one's shoving a sharp spike up their asses. (Jericho) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Drift. Down through deltas of former girlfriends, degrees of confirmation of girlfriendhood, personal sightings of Rez or Lo together with whichever woman in whatever public place, each account illuminated with the importance the event had held for whoever had posted it. This being for Laney the most peculiar aspect of this data, the perspective in which these two loomed. Human in every detail but then not so. Everything scrupulously, fanatically accurate, probably, but always assembled around the hollow armature of celebrity. He could see celebrity here, not like Kathy's idea of a primal substance, but as a paradoxical quality inherent in the substance of the world. He saw that the quantity of data accumulated here by the band's fans was much greater than everything the band themselves had ever generated. And their actual art, the music and the videos, was the merest fragment of that. — William Gibson

She wished she could give Isabel a shield, like the ones riot police held, to protect her from male attention, that feeling of being scored each time you walked down a street, the demeaning comments yelled out of cars, that casual sweep of the eyes. — Liane Moriarty

He turned, picked up a bundle he'd left propped against the steps, and, grinning, held it out. It was a beautiful bunch of red roses, tied with an expensive silk ribbon. "Here, I got you a present. It's to celebrate." "Gareth - " she shook her head and looked at him in mock exasperation - "if you're going to start being frugal, you can't be wasting money on buying me flowers. Money should be spent on necessities!" He grinned. "Do you like them?" "Of course I do, but that's not the point - " "I said, do you like them?" "Well, yes, but - " "Then they are a necessity. Now, go fetch Charlotte and let's get out of London before the neighborhood awakes, shall we?" He gazed down at his humble clothes with a mixture of amusement and ruefulness. "I don't want to give those miserable old gits anything more to talk about than they already have." ~~~~ — Danelle Harmon

Tears ran down my mother's cheeks and dripped loudly onto the leather purse she held in her lap. The woman next to her patted her hand. I slipped my notepad from my jacket pocket and began scribbling notes to one side until my mother slapped her hand on mine and hissed, "You are being disrespectful and embarrassing. Stop or I will make you leave." I quit writing but kept the pad out, feeling stabbingly defiant. But still blushing. — Gillian Flynn

If only one person in the world held down a terrified, struggling, screaming little girl, cut off her genitals with a septic blade, and sewed her back up, leaving only a tiny hole for urine and menstrual flow, the only question would be how severely that person should be punished, and whether the death penalty would be a sufficiently severe sanction. But when millions of people do this, instead of the enormity being magnified millions-fold, suddenly it becomes "culture," and thereby magically becomes less, rather than more, horrible, and is even defended by some Western "moral thinkers," including feminists. — Steven Pinker

They went to the tree. Daemon dismounted and leaned against the tree, staring in the direction of the house. The stallion jiggled the bit, reminding him he wasn't alone. "I wanted to say good-bye," Daemon said quietly. For the first time, he truly saw the intelligence - and loneliness - in the horse's eyes. After that, he couldn't keep his voice from breaking as he tried to explain why Jaenelle was never going to come to the tree again, why there would be no more rides, no more caresses, no more talks. For a moment, something rippled in his mind. He had the odd sensation he was the one being talked to, explained to, and his words, echoing back, lacerated his heart. To be alone again. To never again see those arms held out in welcome. To never hear that voice say his name. To ... Daemon gasped as Dark Dancer jerked the reins free and raced down the path toward the field. Tears of grief pricked Daemon's eyes. The horse might have a simpler mind, but the heart was just as big. — Anne Bishop

They sat with it in silence for a while. Bosch ran it all through once more and couldn't knock it down. It was only case theory but it held together. It worked, but it didn't mean that it was the way it had happened. Every case had unanswered questions and loose ends when it came to motives and actions. Bosch always though that if you started with the assumption that murder is an unreasonable action, then how could there ever be a fully reasonable explanation for it? It was that understanding that kept him from watching and being able to enjoy films and television shows about detectives. He found them unrealistic in their delivery of what the general audience wanted: all of the answers. — Michael Connelly

The chief problem about death, incidentally, is the fear that there may be no afterlife - a depressing thought, particularly for those who bothered to shave. Also, there is the fear that there is an afterlife but no one will know where it's being held. On the plus side, death is one of the few things that can be done as easily laying down. — Woody Allen

I spent the rest of my day in someone else's story. The rare moments that I put the book down, my own pain returned in burning stabs. I felt like a circus knife thrower's target. If I held my mind immobile, I might avoid being hit by the blades whizzing by my head. — Amy Plum

Many authors also attacked the widespread corruption among lawyers. In general, justice was recognized as being so unjust that, as Montaigne complained, ordinary people avoided it rather than seeking it out. He cited a local incident in which a group of peasants found a man lying stabbed and bleeding on a path. He begged them to give him water and help him to his feet, but they ran off, not daring to touch him in case they were held responsible for the attack. Montaigne had the job of talking to them after they were tracked down. "What could I say to them?" he wrote. They were right to be afraid. In another case he mentions, a gang of killers confessed to a murder for which someone had already been tried and was about to be executed. Surely this ought to mean a stay of execution? No, decided the court: that would set a dangerous precedent for overturning judgments. — Sarah Bakewell