But Sweet Sister Quotes & Sayings

If I were you? I would go west instead of east. Land in Dorne and raise my banners. The Seven Kingdoms will never be more ripe for conquest than they are right now. A boy king sits the Iron Throne. The north is in chaos, the riverlands a devastation, a rebel holds Storm's End and Dragonstone. When winter comes, the realm will starve. And who remains to deal with all of this, who rules the little king who rules the Seven Kingdoms? Why, my own sweet sister. There is no one else. My brother, Jaime, thirsts for battle, not for power. He's run from every chance he's had to rule. My uncle Kevan would make a passably good regent if someone pressed the duty on him, but he will never reach for it. The gods shaped him to be a follower, not a leader." Well, the gods and my lord father. "Mace Tyrell would grasp the sceptre gladly, but mine own kin are not like to step aside and give it to him. And everyone hates Stannis. Who does that leave? Why, only Cersei. — George R R Martin

You really care about my sister, don't you? I don't want him to. He's so sweet. I can't imagine anyone loving Fia without being hurt by it. — Kiersten White

I am writing this book because we're all going to die - In the loneliness of my own life, my father dead, my brother dead, my mother faraway, my sister and my wife far away, nothing here but my own tragic hands that once were guarded by a world, a sweet attention, that now are left to guide and disappear their own way into the common dark of all our deaths, sleeping in me raw bed, alone and stupid: with just this one pride and consolation: my broke heart in the general despair and opened up inwards to the Lord, I made a supplication in this dream — Jack Kerouac

How the devil did he get himself caught?"
"By being no brighter than you," Suzette snapped before her father could answer.
"God, you are a fishwife," Jeremy said with disgust and then muttered to himself, "It figures Dicky would marry sweet little mousy Christiana himself and stick me with the sister who was a harpy. — Lynsay Sands

Sweet smile is half again as sinister as her sister's razor. Beside her is an Olympic Knight, the Storm Knight — Pierce Brown

They all saw her as a little sister, someone cute and sweet to spend time with when they were feeling homesick or their girlfriends were busy. They didn't see her as a woman, as someone worthy of spending time with, someone worth the risk of losing their heart. — R.L. Mathewson

In the kitchen, her family nibbled Helen's lemon squares. Melanie urged brownies on the nurses. "Take these," she told Lorraine. "We can't eat them all, but Helen won't stop baking."
"Sweetheart," Lorraine said, "everybody mourns in her own way."
Helen mourned her sister deeply. She arrived each day with shopping bags. Her cake was tender with sliced apples, but her almond cookies crumbled at the touch. Her pecan bars were awful, sticky-sweet and hard enough to break your teeth. They remained untouched in the dining room, because Helen never threw good food away. — Allegra Goodman

Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent's heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to ... hmm, how did he put it? ... I can't remember the exact words, but it was something like ... you would appeal to St. Vincent's deepest, most secret fantasy."
Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. "I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible."
A grin crossed Lillian's lips. "Dear, that is not St. Vincent's fantasy, it's his reality. And you're probably the first sweet, decent girl he's ever had anything to do with."
"He spent quite a lot of time with you and Daisy in Hampshire," Evie countered.
That seemed to amuse Lillian further. "I'm not at all sweet, dear. And neither is my sister. Don't say you have been laboring under that misconception all this time? — Lisa Kleypas

my sweet old etcetera
aunt lucy during the recent

war could and what
is more did tell you just
what everybody was fighting

for,
my sister

isabel created hundreds
(and
hundreds) of socks not to
mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers

etcetera wristers etcetera, my

mother hoped that

i would die etcetera
bravely of course my father used
to become hoarse talking about how it was
a privilege and if only he
could meanwhile my

self etcetera lay quietly
in the deep mud et

cetera
(dreaming,
et
cetera, of
Your smile
eyes knees and of your Etcetera) — E. E. Cummings

So you approve of what I did?" I asked hesitantly. "Let's just say I wasn't overly surprised." "And Bryn and Regan?" He sat beside me and looped his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. "My dear sweet sister, your brothers all love you as much as we ever did, and none of us blame you for wanting more from a marriage, though we've all been worried for your well-being. It's only a matter of time before someone discovers you." I — Mary E. Pearson

He sent Eliza a small smile before turning to Lawrence. "What say you and I return to the hotel for a bit? I need to check on my daughter, and you need some time away from my sister." Not giving Lawrence an opportunity to reply, Grayson took him by the arm and hurried him out of the room.
It was lovely to have a big brother again. — Jen Turano

You're a big boy, No. You'll figure something out. Just make sure it includes the groveling." -Abby
It come to all of us. Especially those of us foolish enough to fall in love with women who have minds of their own. If you will recall, your own sister had a few things she had to forgive me for before we could move on with our relationship." -Rule
There's a big difference between a little kidnapping and what he did." -Abby
"You did not call it a 'little' anything at the time, sweet. You were furious with me. Believe me, the groveling does do wonders." -Rule — Christine Warren

She glanced up with a cheerful grin. "We'll be like a Rounders team."
Annabelle regarded her skeptically. "You're referring to the game in which gentlemen take turns whacking a leather ball with a flat-sided bat?"
"Not only gentlemen," Lillian replied. "In New York, ladies may play also, as long as they don't forget themselves in the excitement."
Daisy smiled slyly. "Such as the time Lillian became so incensed by a bad call that she pulled a sanctuary post out of the ground."
"It was already loose," Lillian protested. "A loose post could have presented a danger to one of the runners."
"Particularly while you were hurling it at them," Daisy said, meeting her older sister's frown with a sweet smirk. — Lisa Kleypas

I'd let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army ... — George R R Martin

Talaith leaned forward, studied her youngest daughter. "You think you're evil?"
"Pure evil," Izzy clarified, which got her a rather vicious glare from Rhi. An expression Dagmar had never thought the young,
perpetually smiling or sobbing girl was capable of.
"Why would you think you're evil?"
"It's a feeling I have."
"No. Someone told her."
Rhi glowered at her sister. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to," Izzy shot back. "I know you."
"Well, who told her that?" Talaith demanded.
And, as one, they all turned and looked at Gwenvael.
He blinked, sat up straight. "I would never say such a thing to my dear sweet niece!"
"You said it to me," Talwyn snapped.
"That's because you're not my dear sweet niece. You're the rude little cow who threw a knife at my head."
"I wasn't aiming for you. I was aiming for Mum."
"She's right," Annwyl admitted. "I just ducked behind you." She shrugged. "Sorry. — G.A. Aiken

Ursula excelled me without difficulty in swimming, sailing, and fell-walking alike. Marriage had sheered off the first edge of romance from our actual caresses, but there was a sweet affection between us, as between a devoted brother and a devoted sister, though I suppose that is not an approved way of putting it. I always wanted a sister, and never more than at this present moment. — Robert Aickman

I love you too, sweet sister. But you're a fool. A beautiful golden fool. — George R R Martin

As she grew older, Maddy discovered that she had disappointed almost everyone. An awkward girl with a sullen mouth, a curtain of hair, and a tendency to slouch, she had neither Mae's sweet nature nor sweet face. Her eyes were rather beautiful, but few people ever noticed this, and it was widely believed Maddy was ugly, a troublemaker, too clever for her own good, too stubborn - or too slack - to change.
Of course, folk agreed that it was not her fault she was so brown or her sister so pretty, but a smile costs nothing, as the saying goes, and if only the girl had made an effort once in a while, or even showed a little gratitude for all the help and free advice, then maybe she would have settled down. — Joanne Harris

With events that have passed there is no problem, provided we don't attempt to be wiser that they are, provided we can't use them to further own own ends. If we let them be, the turn into a marvelous solution, a magical acid that dissolves time and space, eats calendars and atlases, and turns the coordinates of action into sweet nothingness. What is the meaning of the riddle? What is the use to anyone of chronology, sister of death? — Andrzej Stasiuk

See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me? — Percy Bysshe Shelley

Cash misses his wife with a blank pain in his chest, and he misses his sisters and cousins, who have known him since he was a strong, good-looking boy. Everyone back there remembers, or if they are too young, they've been told. The old ones get to hang on the sweet, perfect past. Cash was the best at climbing trees; his sister Letty won the story bees. The woman who married Letty's husband's brother, a beauty named Sugar, was spotted one time drinking a root beer and had her picture in LIFE magazine. They all know. Now she has thin hair and a humped back but she's still Sugar, she gets to walk around Heaven, Oklahoma, with everybody thinking she's pretty and special. which she is. That's the trouble with moving away from family, he realizes. You lose your youth entirely, you have only the small tired baggage that is carried within the body. — Barbara Kingsolver

Your bet is only for Poser tickets, right?" he called.
And for my self-esteem,but that was splitting hairs. "Yea,that's all."
"Because if it was for more than that,I'd be sweet-talking nick right now and doing everything i could to pull out."
"Oh,no you don't!" Chloe squealed. I think she meant to board between us and shove Josh away for affect. however, she didn't have enough control to do this,so she just crossed in front of him and fell in his path, which was somewhat anticlimatic.She shouted up at him, "You need to decide whether you stand with your sister or with the sexist pigs!" Even on her butt in the snow, Chloe was a formidable force.
"yes,ma'am." Josh saluted with his mitten to his goggles. — Jennifer Echols

The oversize jar that held Regan's collection of beach glass was stored at the back of his closet, shoved there years ago because, like so much else in the house, it triggered bad memories. But as he pulled it out and carried it downstairs, the edges of his dark mood lifted for the first time all day. The sweet, generous side of Regan's nature would have loved passing on her precious beach stones to Livia, one little girl to another.
As he descended the stairs that his sister had raced up and down a dozen times a day, something brushed past him. Something warm. Invisible. He stopped where he was and shut his eyes, the glass jar cool in his hands, his sister's face vivid in his mind.
Regan smiling at him. A smile that said Be happy. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Samuel walked out to Lindsey then, and there she was in his arms, my sweet butterball babe, born ten years after my fourteen years on Earth: Abigail Suzanne. Little Susie to me. Samuel placed Susie on a blanket near the flowers. And my sister, my Lindsey, left me in her memories, where I was meant to be. — Alice Sebold

I know it must seem completely idiotic to you," Maddie said, hoping to coax at least a grunt from her, "hiring a date to your only sister's wedding and all."
Louise slowly nodded.
"I mean, who does such things nowadays, right? Women don't need men for anything. Well, they do need them for one thing. But that's all - and, really, debatable depending on your sexual orientation. — Jennifer Shirk

She's my /sister./" He had no doubt that Clarisse was telling the truth: that Darri was down here in the caves, that she was trying to end the spell. And that she was about to die. "If you kill her, I'll tear this country down. I'll grind silver into the soil. I swear it."
Clarisse blinked at him, completely unconcerned. "Why? You don't love her."
"I don't like her," Varis snarled. "I /do/ love her. — Leah Cypess

From inside, I hear Sister Beatrice's voice: Did Andrew leave already? Such a sweet boy he is. And devoted too, when he sets his heart to a task. Let me tell you about the time he weeded the convent's garden. It's a long story, but we 'ave all afternoon. There was a scuffle in the lunch room, you see ... — Emma Chase

At the last, Viserys looked at her. "Sister, please ... Dany, tell them ... make them ... sweet sister ... "
When the gold was half-melted and starting to run, Drogo reached into the flames, snatched out the pot. "Crown!" he roared. "Here. A crown for Cart King!" And upended the pot over the head of the man who had been her brother.
The sound Viserys Targaryen made when that hideous iron helmet covered his face was like nothing human. His feet hammered a frantic beat against the dirt floor, slowed, stopped. Thick globs of molten gold dripped down onto his chest, setting the scarlet silk to smoldering ... yet no drop of blood was spilled.
He was no dragon, Dany thought, curious calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon. — George R R Martin

There's no law against admiring a best friend's sister. — Coleen Kwan

For with eyes made clear by many tears, and a heart softened by the tenderest sorrow, she recognized the beauty of her sister's life - uneventful, unambitious, yet full of the genuine virtues which 'smell sweet, and blossom in the dust', the self-forgetfulness that makes the humblest on earth remembered soonest in heaven, the true success which is possible to all. — Louisa May Alcott

Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET. What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE. Sweets to the sweet: farewell! — William Shakespeare

Shelley," I say. "You should've let him win. You know, to be polite." Shelley's response is a shake of her head. Applesauce drips on her chin. "That's the way it's going to be, huh?" I say, hoping the scene doesn't gross Alex out. Maybe I'm testing him, to see if he can handle a glimpse of my home life. If so, he's passing. "Wait until Alex leaves. I'll show you who the checkers champion is."
My sister smiles that sweet, crooked smile of hers. It's like a thousand words put into one expression. For a moment I forget Alex is still watching me. It's so weird having him inside my life and my house. He doesn't belong, yet he doesn't seem to mind being here. — Simone Elkeles

Did you hear what I said, Princess Cheater-Cheater-Whale-Dung-Eater? Show my brother your pathetic Gift."
Paca's eyes are full of murder. She looks at Grom. "Do something about your sister. You're going to let her insult me right in front of you? Is this how I can expect to be treated when I'm mated to you?"
Rayna laughs. "You bet your sweet-"
"Rayna!" Galen says. "Enough!"
She rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything else. Galen turns to Paca. Trying to sound apologetic, he says, "Please excuse my sister's lack of ... "
"Sanity?" Paca offers icily.
Galen smiles. Sort of. — Anna Banks

She had me at Sweet Valley High. Gay playfully crosses the borders between pop culture consumer and critic, between serious academic and lighthearted sister-girl, between despair and optimism, between good and bad ... How can you help but love her? — Melissa Harris-Perry

I'll take another stab at talking to her."
"If you can't find a way, get Cooper to do it. You know how he loves controlling things. I'm sure he'll want to help."
"True, but once he starts meddling, he won't stop. I don't need him giving me pointers for the rest of my relationship with Lark."
"Lark," my mother said, testing out the name. "She had such a sweet smile. I could look at that smile for the rest of my life. Yes, go kick fate in the balls and get me a daughter."
"You have a daughter."
"A new one, I meant. Preferably one who likes to visit more than Anna."
Grinning at the thought of my alpha chick sister, I finished my juice and stood up. "I'll focus on a first date then worry about getting you a more compliant daughter. — Bijou Hunter

Now, my sister has been called a lot of things:sweet, kind, a living Disney princess, but none of those things imply that she would ever date someone just for his money. — Bernie Su

I love your hair!" Marlee gushed. "I wish I'd been born with red hair. It makes you look so alive. I hear that people with red hair have bed tempers. Is that true?
Despite my rotten day, Marlee's manner was so vivacious that my smile grew wider. "I don't think so. I mean, I can have a bad temper at times, but my sister is a redhead, and she's as sweet as can be. — Kiera Cass

Caress me sister wind
and stop this hate. — A.P. Sweet

It had been well if he had been left with only a wounded heart, but in that heart lay wounded pride. He hid it carefully, and the keener in consequence grew the sensitiveness, almost feminine, which no stranger could have suspected beneath the manner he wore. Under that bronzed countenance, with its firm-set mouth and powerful jaw--below that clear blue eye, and that upright easy carriage, lay a faithful heart haunted by a sense of wrong: he who is not perfect in forgiveness must be haunted thus; he only is free whose love for the human is so strong that he can pardon the individual sin; he alone can pray the prayer,"Forgive us our trespasses," out of a full heart. Forgiveness is the only cure of wrong. And hand in hand with Sense-of-injury walks ever the weak sister-demon Self-pity, so dear, so sweet to many--both of them the children of Philautos, not of Agape. — George MacDonald

IT IS IMPORTANT, when killing a nun, to ensure that you bring an army of sufficient bravery. For when Sister Cage of the Sweet Mercy Convent steps onto the battlefield courage is often found to be in short supply. She — Mark Lawrence

If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness;
Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness;
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator;
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false. — William Shakespeare

Ah, God, it were an easy Matter to choose a Calling had
one all Time to live in! I should be fifty Years a
Barrister, fifty a Physician, fifty a Clergyman, fifty a
Soldier! Aye, and fifty a Thief, and fifty a Judge! All
Roads are fine Roads, beloved Sister, none more than
another, so that with one Life to spend I am a Man
bare-bumm'd at Taylors with Cash for but one pair of
Breeches, or a Scholar at Brookstalls with Money for a
single Book: to choose ten were no Trouble; to choose one,
impossible! All Trades, all Crafts, all Professions are
wondrous, but none is finer than the rest together. I
cannot choose, sweet Anna: twixt Stools my Breech falleth
to the Ground! — John Barth

Where lurk sweet echoes of the dear homevoices, Each note of which calls like a little sister, Those airs slow, slow ascending, as the smokewreaths Rise from the hearthstones of our native hamlets Cyrano Act 5. — Edmond Rostand

I went back into my bedroom and knelt at my bed the way I did when I was a kid. I folded my hands and pressed the top knuckle joints of my thumbs hard into my forehead. Dear God. I don't know what I want or who I am. Apparently you do. Um ... that's great. Never mind. You have a terrible reputation here. You should know that. Oh, but I guess you do know that. Save me now. Or when it's convenient. We could run away together. This is stupid. What am I doing? I guess this is a prayer. I feel like an idiot, but I guess you knew that already, too. My sister said that god is music. Goodbye, Amen. I lay in my bed and waited for that thick, sweet feeling to wash over me, for that unreal semi-conscious state where the story begins and takes on a life of its own and all you have to do is close your eyes and give in and let go and give in and let go and go and go and go. — Miriam Toews

Basically, everyone thinks
knows
how sweet I am.
Emma, you threw my sister through hurricane-proof glass. — Anna Banks

He said, "Were he only like his sister - what a difference that would make! For there never was such a sweet and gentle lady! I hear her footsteps, as she goes about the world. I hear the swish-swish-swish of her silken gown and the jingle-jangle of the silver chain about her neck. Her smile is full of comfort and her eyes are kind and happy! How I long to see her!"
"Who, sir?" asked Paramore, puzzled.
"Why, his sister, John. His sister. — Susanna Clarke

Then you're dead, too, sweet little sister.'
Oh, yes,' said Valentine. 'They'll believe that. I didn't know it would kill Andrew. And when he was dead, I didn't know it will kill Valentine too. — Orson Scott Card

So come on out, my dear old sweet Sister, - & we'll open our oysters together. — Edna St. Vincent Millay

Who is my brother now? When did he transform from the boy who made me too-sweet tea to a man with secrets too heavy to share with his little sister? — Sabaa Tahir

Any chance of getting something sweet to go with my coffee?" [Finn] asked in a hopeful voice.
I arched an eyebrow at him. "You mean all those pieces of strawberry pie that you ate for lunch weren't enough?"
"I'm a growing boy," Finn said in a sincere tone. "I need my vitamins."
Bria snorted. "The only thing that's growing on you, Lane, is your ego."
Finn sidled up to my sister and gave her a dazzling smile. "Well, other things of mine also tend to swell up in your presence, detective. — Jennifer Estep

My fourteen-year-old sister Lara is a brat. Unfortunately, no one sees it but me. To everyone else, she's adorable. She's tiny and blonde and sweet and as helpless as a kitten. Chloe reminded me of Lara, at first. The difference, as I discovered, is that Chloe really is as sweet as she seems and she isn't as helpless as she looks. — Kelley Armstrong

Sweet is the voice of a sister in the season of sorrow. — Benjamin Disraeli

George gives me a smile, the same dazzling sweet smile as his big brother, although, at this point, with green teeth. "I might marry you," he allows. "Do you want a big family?"
I start to cough and feel a hand pat my back.
"George, it's usually better to discuss this kind of thing with your pants on." Jase drops boxer shorts at George's feet, then sets Patsy on the ground next to him.
She's wearing a pink sunsuit and has one of those little ponytails that make one sprout of hair stick straight up on top all chubby arms and bowed legs. She's, what, one now?
"Dat?" she demands, pointing to me a bit belligerently.
"Dat is Samantha," Jase says. "Apparently soon to be your sister-in-law." He cocks an eyebrow. "You and George move fast."
"We talked astronauts," I explain ... — Huntley Fitzpatrick

A student to teacher: "I am so alone; I don't know what to do?" Teacher: "Do not worry about being alone, we always come alone and go alone. In a very sweet accident, we meet others who are alone and start to be part of them in various forms of relationships such as friends, husband, wife, mother, father, sister and so on. So, life is about sharing a moment together, not thinking as if you are alone. — Santosh Kalwar

Who in seven hells is this one?"
"The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," Jaime returned with cold courtesy. "I might ask the same of you, my lady."
"Lady? I'm no lady. I'm the queen."
"My sister will be surprised to hear that."
"Lord Ryman crowned me his very self." She gave a shake of her ample hips. "I'm the queen o' whores."
No, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too. — George R R Martin

That's when it happens. Maybe it was my argument. Maybe it was my scary zeal. Whatever the reason, as soon as Megan whistles, the crowd is on its feet.
They're blowing bubbles. They're raising their lighters high.
They're cheering through their fangs ...
For Dawn Summers, for themselves and each other, for every sibling who got tossed into a situation beyond her control.
For me.
And for my sister, who whistles again ...
Once more with feeling. — Cynthia Leitich Smith

Mason, E, 2nd LT: I take this as a declaration of war. Presuming they don't line me up against a bulkhead and shoot me after my court martial tomorrow, I will be making sweet, sweet love to your sister by the week's end. This I solemnly vow
McNulty, J, Sgt: ezra don't joke about my sister I ****ing warned you
Mason, E, 2nd LT: sweet
McNulty, J, Sgt: chum
Mason, E, 2nd LT: sweet
McNulty, J, Sgt: mason
Mason, E, 2nd LT: lurrrrrrve — Amie Kaufman

You once said you loved me. Do you still?"
My sister is watching this exchange between us. She smiles warmly at me, giving me the strength to tell him the truth. "I never stopped loving you. Even when I tried desperately to forget you. I couldn't. — Simone Elkeles

Fighting her smile, his sister reached over and ran her hand through his hair. "That, my sweet brother, is called heartbreak."
He glanced down at his chest. "Will that be a physical deformity? — G.A. Aiken

Less reliable tales also reached his ears, of a dwarf witch who haunted a hill in the riverlands, and a dwarf whore in King's Landing renowned for coupling with dogs. His own sweet sister had told him of the last, even offering to find him a bitch in heat if he cared to try it out. When he asked politely if she were referring to herself, Cersei had thrown a cup of wine in his face. — George R R Martin

K.T. stops dead in her tracks, her eyes locked on Horace's car.
"Holy crap," she mutters, eyes wide. "Is that a '69 Camaro SS?"
I glance back at her as I unlock the door. "Yeah. You know cars?"
She shakes her head, her lips trembling. "Just this one."
Her reaction is too strong to be normal. People don't usually get choked up at the sight of a car. There's something about this car specifically that freaks her out.
It takes a second for her to smile, but she forces the expression onto her face. "It's my sister's favorite car. — Erica Cameron

If you'd ever asked, I would have crawled to help you. But you never wanted my help. You only wanted me to be your sweet and smiling sister. So I smiled and smiled, until I thought I would break. — Rosamund Hodge

Let the tears which fell, and the broken words which were exchanged in the long close embrace between the orphans, be sacred. A father, sister, and mother, were gained, and lost, in that one moment. Joy and grief were mingled in the cup; but there were no bitter tears: for even grief arose so softened, and clothed in such sweet and tender recollections, that it became a solemn pleasure, and lost all character of pain. — Charles Dickens

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," Jaime returned with cold courtesy. "I might ask the same of you, my lady." "Lady? I'm no lady. I'm the queen." "My sister will be surprised to hear that." "Lord Ryman crowned me his very self." She gave a shake of her ample hips. "I'm the queen o' whores." No, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too. Ser — George R R Martin

Helen's gaze remained on her sister, as she noticed that Cassandra had recently lost the gangly, coltish look of childhood. She bore an astonishing resemblance to Jane, with the immaculate prettiness of her bone structure and bow-shaped lips, the sunlight-colored curls, and heavily lashed blue eyes.
Fortunately Cassandra was a softer, infinitely kinder version of their mother. And Pandora, for all her prankish high spirits, was the most sweet-natured girl imaginable. — Lisa Kleypas

He thinks you're pretty." Genevieve yawned. "Guys always think you're pretty."
"Well people think you look like me," I
responded.
"They're only being nice." Her voice was hurt as she curled closer to me.
"They aren't being nice. You're beautiful, smart, and you know who you are. You're never afraid of saying what you believe in. I never want you to forget that, Genevieve," I spoke tenderly as I watched her eyes start to sag. "I love you, Genevieve. — Ottilie Weber

You think she'll be able to talk sense into him?" she asked. "His sister?"
"If he listens to anyone, it would be her."
"That's sweet," said Maia. "That he loves his sister like that."
"Yeah," Simon said. "It's precious — Cassandra Clare

At another house two women learned very fast; I say women, but one was a girl about twelve or thirteen, already married, however. There was a little child about three years old. My sister asked, 'Who is the True God's Son?' The little thing replied, in a very sweet voice, 'Jesus.' — Lottie Moon

O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,
to drown me in thy sister's flood of tears. — William Shakespeare

I will go back to the great sweet mother,
Mother and lover of men, the sea.
I will go down to her, I and none other,
Close with her, kiss her, and mix her with me.
Cling to her, strive with her, hold her fast;
O fair white mother, in days long passed
Born without sister, born without brother,
Set free my soul as thy soul is free. — Algernon Charles Swinburne

Finally, Slade had the thing he'd never thought he would have. The thing he'd never even thought he wanted. He had the same thing his best friend had with his sister: he had the love of a woman. Not just any woman, but the woman he loved with all that he was — Sidney Halston

So what's the deal with you and my sister?"
He laughs shortly and rubs the back of his neck like something is there, tickling, tapping.
"Tamra." Clutching the dashboard, I turn and glare at her. "There is no deal."
She snorts. "Well, we wouldn't be sitting here if that was the case now, would we?"
I open my mouth to demand she end the interrogation when Will's voice stops me.
"I like your sister. A lot."
I look at him dumbly.
He looks at me, lowers his voice to say, "I like you."
I know that, I guess, but heat still crawls over my face. I swing forward in my seat, cross my arms over my chest and stare straight ahead. Can't stop shivering. Can't speak. My throat hurts too much.
"Jacinda," he says.
"I think you've shocked her," Tamra offers, then sighs. — Sophie Jordan

I was beautiful; after all, my skin was as rich and dark as wet, brown mud, a complexion that any and every pale white girl would pray for - that is, if she believed in God. My butt sat high in the air and my hips obviously gave birth to Creation. Titties like mangoes, firm, sweet, and ready. My thighs and legs were big and powerful, kicking Vanna White and Cindy Crawford to the curb. — Sister Souljah

We Lannisters do have a certain pride," said Tyrion Lannister.
"Pride?" Catelyn snapped. His mocking tone and easy manner made her angry. "Arrogance, some might call it. Arrogance and avarice and lust for power."
"My brother is undoubtedly arrogant," Tyrion Lannister replied. "My father is the soul of avarice, and my sweet sister Cersei lusts for power with every waking breath. I, however, am innocent as a little lamb. Shall I bleat for you?" He grinned. — George R R Martin

While the churches, bringing the sweet smell of piety for the soul, came in prancing and farting like brewery horses in bock-beer time, the sister evangelism, with release and joy for the body, crept in.
silently and greyly, with its head bowed and its face covered. — John Steinbeck

My brother is undoubtedly arrogant," Tyrion Lannister replied. "My father is the soul of avarice, and my sweet sister Cersei lusts for power with every waking breath. I, however, am innocent as a little lamb. Shall I bleat for you? — George R R Martin