Candlelight Never Going Out Quotes & Sayings

Sensation of rightness, of saying the right thing atthe right time to the right person, that too-raresensation of having the right thing to say and believing it. — Maggie Stiefvater

down the drive. I hear his wheels — Annelise Ryan

She had taken him for granted, she thought with surprise and shame, watching the flickering candlelight. She had assumed his kindness was so natural and so innate, she had never asked herself whether it cost him any effort. Any effort to stand between Will and the world, protecting each of them from the other. Any effort to accept the loss of his family with equanimity. Any effort to remain cheerful and calm in the face of his own dying. — Cassandra Clare

Even when I jog, I need a place to get to. — Bess Myerson

For supper Jill cooks a filet of sole, lemony, light, simmered in sunshine, skin flaky brown; Nelson gets a hamburger with wheatgerm sprinkled on it to remind him of a Nutburger. Wheatgerm, zucchini, water chestnuts, celery salt, Familia: these are some of the exotic items Jill's shopping brings into the house. Her cooking tastes to him of things he never had: candlelight, saltwater, health fads, wealth, class. — John Updike

Graceful. Lean. Coordinated as she whirls, though how she knows what dancing is, [her grandfather] could never guess.

The song plays on. He lets it go too long. The antenna is still up, probably dimly visible against the sky, the whole attic might as well shine like a beacon. But in the candlelight, in the sweet rush of a concerto, Marie-Laure bites her lower lip, and her face gives off a secondary glow, reminding him of the marshes beyond the town walls, in those winter dusks when the sun has set but isn't fully swallowed, and big patches of red pools of light burn - places he used to go with his brother, in what seems like lifetimes ago. — Anthony Doerr

If people would write exactly what I wanted to read I wouldn't feel so compelled to write myself. — Laurell K. Hamilton

He calls me his Queen of the Night. He shows me the wonders in this incredible city. He encourages me to find my own way, and to choose what I think is right or wrong.
And the sex, God, the sex! I never knew what sex was until him! It's not soft music and candlelight, a choice, a deliberate action.
It's as involuntary as breathing, and as impossible not to do. It's slammed up against a wall in a dark alley, or flat on my back on cold concrete because I can't stand one more second without him. It's on my hands and knees, dry-mouthed, heart-in-my-throat, waiting for the moment he touches me, and I'm alive again. It's punishing and purifying, velvet and violent, and it makes everything else melt away, until nothing matters but getting him inside me and I wouldn't just die for him - I'd kill for him, too.
Like I did tonight. — Karen Marie Moning

He'd unbuttoned his shirt so the night breeze would soothe him; his body always ran too hot. The blood. Too hot. The large, gold crucifix on his neck, dangling to his thick chest hairs, caught there, and winked in the candlelight. His childhood prayers. For food. Warmth. His beloved mother. That the cruelty of his father. Stop. No more. Beatings. He never. Stopped. Beating her. Mama. [...] Pompeii remembered - like tuning into a clear TV channel - his mother's gentle face. Her fingertips on his boy's face, calming him to sleep. The sound of his father's drunken entrance, when she would hold her breath, stop stroking his boy face. — Alma Luz Villanueva

You never know what the vodka will bring," I laughed.
"Oh, like the time you caught my hair on fire at the candlelight party in Mel's basement! That was the craziest thing that I ever had happen to me. If you hadn't switched to water, I would have been bald!"
-Cora, Nessa — Andrea Heltsley

Just before six, Bee pulled three wineglasses out of the cabinet and uncorked the bottle of white that Greg had selected for us.
"Light the candles, dear, will you please?"
I reached for the matches and thought about the dinners at Bee's house during my childhood. Bee never served a meal without candles. "A proper supper requires candlelight," she'd told my sister and me years ago. I though it was elegant and exciting, and when I asked my mom if we could start the same tradition at home, she said no. "Candles are for birthday parties," she said, "and those only come once a year. — Sarah Jio

Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead." I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead. — Suzanne Collins

You come to my comedy show to be entertained. — Bill Cosby

None of my friends call me L.C. That was just a high school nickname, and nobody refers to me like that anymore. — Lauren Conrad

With Your sweet Soul, this soul of mine
has merged as water does with wine.
Who can part the water from the wine,
or me from You when we combine?
You have become my greater self;
how can smallness limit me?
You've taken on my being,
how shall I not take on Yours?
Forever, You have claimed me
that forever I may know You're mine. — Jalaluddin Rumi

A little guilt has made more than a few men live better than they would have done - trying to even the scales before they cross the river. — Conn Iggulden

She had only a candle's light to see by, but candlelight never did badly by any woman. — John Fowles

Then men were not dependent upon women after all, as she had thought - women were dependent upon men. Boys were frail, boys cried, boys were tender, boys were helpless. Mary Anne knew this, because she was the eldest girl among her three young brothers, and the baby Isobel did not count at all. Men also were frail, men also cried, men also were tender, men also were helpless. Mary Anne knew this because her stepfather, Bob Farquhar, was all of these things in turn. Yet men went to work. Men made the money - or frittered it away, like her stepfather, so that there was never enough to buy clothes for the children, and her mother scraped and saved and stitched by candlelight, and often looked tired and worn. Somewhere there was injustice. Somewhere the balance had gone. "When I'm grown up I shall marry a rich man," she said. — Daphne Du Maurier

All I have is an opinion - I don't deal in Truth. — Jean Louis

9. The Moon Cannot Be Stolen
Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of the mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing in it to steal.
Ryokan returned and caught him. "You may have come a long way to visit me," he told the prowler, "and you should not return empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift."
Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon. "Poor fellow," he mused, "I wish I could give him this beautiful moon. — Nyogen Senzaki