Dagger Love Quotes & Sayings

In Narnia a girl might ring a bell in a deserted temple and feel the chime in her eyes, pure as the freeze that forces tears. Then when the sound dies out, the White Witch wakes. It was like, I want to touch you, and I can touch you, now what next, a dagger? — Helen Oyeyemi

If I had a brother who had been murdered, what would you think of me if I ... daily consorted with the assassin who drove the dagger into my brother's heart; surely I too must be an accomplice in the crime. Sin murdered Christ; will you be a friend to it? Sin pierced the heart of the Incarnate God; can you love it? — Charles Spurgeon

I slew him-this right hand struck the dagger to his heart. My deeds slew Christ. Alas! I slew my best beloved; I killed him who loved me with an everlasting love. Oh eyes, why do you refuse to weep when you see Jesus' body mangled and torn? Give vent to your sorrow, Christians, for you have good reason to do so. — Charles Spurgeon

He had seen bigger men than he with mummy's handkerchief clutched in on hand and a bloody dagger in the other. — Eoin Colfer

I-" Irsa took a careful breath to steady her words. " I have felt alone for most of my life. Until you." She placed the shell on his chest. " But I promise I won't feel alone anymore. I will never forget." She stood on shaky feet. "I will always remember."
"I love you Rahim al-Din Walad . Thank you for loving me in return. — Renee Ahdieh

I may remember you, Scarlet," he bellowed, backing up when she grabbed her fork and held it out like a dagger. She'd murdered men with less. Even immortals. "But you haven't haunted me." Motions stiff, he raised his shirt. Amid the cuts, above his heart, was a tattoo of eyes. Dark eyes. Like hers. "Don't you see? You ... haven't ... haunted ... me. — Gena Showalter

Fear of change was a weakness — J.R. Ward

Albeit nurtured in democracy,
And liking best that state republican
Where every man is Kinglike and no man
Is crowned above his fellows, yet I see,
Spite of this modern fret for Liberty,
Better the rule of One, whom all obey,
Than to let clamorous demagogues betray
Our freedom with the kiss of anarchy.
Wherefore I love them not whose hands profane
Plant the red flag upon the piled-up street
For no right cause, beneath whose ignorant reign
Arts, Culture, Reverence, Honor, all things fade,
Save Treason and the dagger of her trade,
Or Murder with his silent bloody fee. — Oscar Wilde

I need to know you believe me when I say I love you. That is all."
"I believe everything you say," Tessa said with a smile, her hands creeping doen from his waist to his weapons belt. Her fingers closed on the hilt of the dagger, and she yanked it from the belt, smiling as he looked down at her in surprise. "After all," she said, "you weren't lying about the tattoo of the dragon of Wales, were you? — Cassandra Clare

With his mad eyes that cannot seem to look at everything they want to all at once, with the dagger poised in his palm- like sharp teeth or black eyes, he is transforming into something both terrifying and exciting, mysterious and sexy. I reach forward on the sand towards them as though to touch him, my magical boy. — Annie Fisher

Sam," she said.
"I'm trying!"
"Sam," she repeated.
"No," he spat, hearing her tone. "No!"
He began screaming for help then. Celaena pressed her face to one of the holes in the grate. Help wasn't going to come-not fast enough.
"Please," Sam begged as he beat and yanked on the grate, he tried to wedge another dagger under the lid. "Please don't."
She knew he wasn't speaking to her.
The water hit her neck.
"Please," Sam moaned, his fingers now touching hers. She'd have one last breath. Her last words.
"Take my body home to Terrasen, Sam," she whispered. And with a gasping breath, she went under. — Sarah J. Maas

Pain is increased by rejection, love all the beloveds who've put a dagger in your
heart. — Sandeep Gupta

And why had those prayers focused heavenward? Well, kind of made sense, didn't it? Even when there were no more options for the body, the heart's wishes find a way out, ans as with all warmth, love rises. Besides, the will to fly was in the nature of the soul so its home had to be up above. And gifts did come from the sky, like spring rain and summer breezes and fall sun and winter snow. — J.R. Ward

Every act of love is a dagger in the heart of ISIS. May they bleed to death. — Johnnie Moore

For a moment she didn't understand what he wanted, then she drew the dagger he'd made for her and gave it to him
Arin looked it over
surprised, pleased. "You take good care of it."
She took it back. "Of course I do." Her voice was rough and wrong.
He peered at her. Friendly, he said, "Yes, of course. Is there a saying for it? 'A Valorian always polishes her blade.' Something like that."
"I take care of it," she said, suddenly both miserable and angry, "because you made it for me. — Marie Rutkoski

Marissa came around the corner, looking Grace Kelly-fine as usual. With her long blond hair and her precision-molded face, she was known as the great beauty of the species, and even V, who didn't go for her type, had to show love.
"Hello, boys - " Marissa stopped and stared at Butch. "Good ... Lord ... look at those pants."
Butch winced. "Yeah, I know. They're - "
"Could you come over here?" She started backing down the hall to their bedroom. "I need you to come back here for a minute. Or ten."
Butch's bonding scent flared to a dull roar, and V knew damn well the guy's body was hardening for sex.
"Baby, you can have me for as long as you want me."
Just as the cop left the living room, he shot a look over his shoulder. "I'm so feeling these leathers. Tell Fritz I want fifty pairs of them. Stat. — J.R. Ward

I believe there's a hand that guides us. It just isn't always a gentle one. Or one that seems fair at the time. But I dunno, I try to trust in it now. When I freak, I just try to ... shit, I guess trust in it. Because at the end of the day, what else can you do? Choice only gets you so far. Reasoning and planning too. The rest ... it's up to someone else. Where we end up, who we know, what happens to the people we love ... we don't have a lot of control over any of it. — J.R. Ward

You're some freaky shit, my brother. You really are — J.R. Ward

Enough!" Francisco shouted. "Either you get Lucifer to let me go or loverboy here gets it."
Had the little bastard interrupted him and his witch as she publicly admitted she cared? Oh, hell no.
Remy jabbed his elbow back, twisted, then ducked as he grabbed Francisco's dagger wielding hand. He twisted it up behind the damned soul's back and shoved him to his knees.
"Sorry, my little witch. You were saying something about pleasure and alone time?"
Her lips twitched and mirth shone in her eyes. "I should have let him kill you."
"But then who would love and worship you for an eternity? — Eve Langlais

You know what? Lets go." I shot Aiden a defiant look. "Come on Seth. Let's go continue our lovers' quarrel."
"Yes my love, that sounds fantastic. Don't forget to grab a dagger so you can poke my eyeballs out. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

By now, she was far from the scorch of these sands. After the ransom deal, she would be safely married in England. To Ashton. And Caine, who had hurt her far more than anything Abdullah had planned for her with that long, curved dagger, deserved no better than this torment of knowing it. — V.S. Carnes

Remembering may be a celebration or it may be a dagger in the heart, but it is better, far better, than forgetting. — Donald M. Murray

You deserve someone who will feel you at her side without needing to see you. And I've only felt that way about one boy. — Renee Ahdieh

You have the face of a man who gently caresses field flowers and dandelions. And a smile that is like a dagger, cutting the sun in halves. — Malak El Halabi

Poems are bullshit unless they are

teeth or trees or lemons piled

on a step. Or black ladies dying

of men leaving nickel hearts

beating them down. Fuck poems

and they are useful, wd they shoot

come at you, love what you are,

breathe like wrestlers, or shudder

strangely after pissing. We want live

words of the hip world live flesh &

coursing blood. Hearts Brains

Souls splintering fire. We want poems

like fists beating niggers out of Jocks

or dagger poems in the slimy bellies

of the owner-jews. Black poems to

smear on girdlemamma mulatto bitches

whose brains are red jelly stuck

between 'lizabeth taylor's toes. Stinking

Whores! we want "poems that kill. — Amiri Baraka

Because at that moment, with the press of Rahim's lips to hers, with the touch of his tongue sending wildfire through her veins, she knew she would always be home here.
With this boy. In this moment. In this time.
And that her heart would never be lonely again. — Renee Ahdieh

Beth," he whispered. "Come back to me."
He brought more of his blood to her.
"Damn it, don't you die!" Candles flared in the room. "I love you, damn you! Goddamn you, don't you let go! — J.R. Ward

I would do anything for you. Anything.
With that, he pushed his way out ... and as the door eased shut, she realized that I love you could indeed be said without actually uttering the phrase.
Actions did mean more than words. — J.R. Ward

We are not wounded so deeply when betrayed by the things we hope for as when betrayed by things we try our best to despise.
In such betrayal comes the dagger in the back. — Yukio Mishima

No one at fifteen was ever in love, outside of Romeo and Juliet, and maybe not even them. Old Giff used to argue that the star-crossed lovers simply were buzzed on the fumes of forbidden lust. Give them thirty years of togetherness, Old Giff always said, and Juliet would be plunging the dagger into Romeo. — Laura Lippman

With his fantastic mane of multicoloured hair, Phury should have been in Hollywood's league with the ladies, but he'd stuck with his vow of celibacy. There was room for one and only one love in his life, and it had been slowly killing him for years. — J.R. Ward

I'm not in love with someone!" he shouted at her, infuriated because she was right and he couldn't do a thing about it. "I'm in love with you, and damn it,I don't like it."
"You've made that abundantly clear." She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
"Don't pull that regal routine on me," Grant began. Her eyes sharpened to dagger points. Her skin flushed majestically. Abruptly he began to laugh.When she tossed her head back in fury,he simply collapsed against her. "Oh,God,Gennie,I can't take it when you look at me as though you were about to have me tossed in the dungeon."
"Get off me,you ass!" Incensed, insulted, she shoved against him, but he only held her tighter. Only quick reflexes saved him from a well-aimed knee at a strategic point. — Nora Roberts

creamy poppy seed and she loved the strawberry-spinach salad's crunchy sweetness. She enjoyed a few bites uninterrupted, grateful she could eat at all with Byron nearby. His knee rubbed against hers and the bite of spinach stuck in her throat. She swallowed then glanced up. Their gazes met and tangled, an entire conversation passed between them, almost without her permission. The earnestness and warmth of his look was a dagger through her abdomen. How could she still love him so much? She knew who he was, what he was. He wasn't future husband material and never would be. When he was eighty he'd still be smoking hot and still have women crawling all over him. The waitress came to request their drink orders. She nodded to Marissa's request of a lemon for her water and fawned all over Byron as he ordered lemonade. "She's — Cami Checketts

They were mistaken if they thought he did not kill her because he loved her too much. At that moment Nacib did not love her. He did not hate her either. He beat her mechanically, as if to relax his nerves from the tension of suffering. He was empty like a vase without a flower. He felt a pain in his heart as if someone were slowly pushing a dagger into it. He felt neither hate nor love. Just pain (366). — Jorge Amado

She silenced him with her mouth, then pulled back. "You can't change what I think of you."
He reached up and brushed her lower lip with his thumb.
"If you truly knew me, everything you believe would change."
"Your heart would be the same. And that is what I love. — J.R. Ward

This sound, which like all music--indeed, like all pleasure--I had been numbly unresponsive to for months, pierced my heart like a dagger, and in a flood of swift recollection I thought of all the joys the house had known: the children who had rushed through its rooms, the festivals, the love and work, the honestly earned slumber, the voices and the nimble commotion, the perennial tribe of cats and dogs and birds, "laughter and ability and Sighing, And Frocks and Curls." All this I realized was more than I could ever abandon, even as what I had set out so deliberately to do was more than I could inflict on those memories, and upon those, so close to me, with whom the memories were bound. And just as powerfully I realized I could not commit this desecration on myself. — William Styron