Good Whisper Quotes & Sayings

That's when Sam grabbed my hand. "I love this song!" She led me to the dance floor. And she started dancing. And I started dancing. It was a fast song, so I wasn't very good, but she didn't seem to mind. We were just dancing, and that was enough. The song ended, and then a slow one came on. She looked at me. I looked at her. Then, she took my hands and pulled me in to dance slow. I don't know how to dance slow very well either, but I do know how to sway. Her whisper smelled like cranberry juice and vodka. "I looked for you in the parking lot today." I hoped mine still smelled like toothpaste. "I was looking for you, too." Then, we were quiet for the rest of the song. She held me a little closer. I held her a little closer. And we kept dancing. It was the one time all day that I really wanted the clock to stop. And just be there for a long time. — Stephen Chbosky

Your house is lovely," I say, even though it isn't. It's old; it could use a good cleaning. But the things inside it are lovely.
"It's empty now. All my things sold up. Can't take it with you, you know."
"You mean when you die?" I whisper.
He glares at me. "No. I mean to the nursing home. — Jenny Han

I lean down and drop a kiss on the top of his head. "Goodbye, Achilles," I whisper, and I leave Maxen Ashley Colchester alone with his head in his hands. I leave and get in my car and go back home, remembering the feel of his hair on my lips.
I will break from loving him, I think. I will split with it, burn with it.
And yet, for the first time, I know what I have to do. I know that I'm a good man, I know that I'd be a good leader. I know that I can stop Melwas and keep Greer safe. I know how to do it.
I have to become more than a prince.
I have to become a king myself. — Sierra Simone

Good night," I whisper to the bow in my hand and feel it go still. I raise my left arm and twist my neck down to rip off the pill on my sleeve. Instead my teeth sink into flesh. I yank my head back in confusion to find myself looking into Peeta's eyes, only now they hold my gaze. Blood runs from the teeth marks on the hand he clamped over my nightlock. "Let me go!" I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. "I can't," he says. As they pull me away from him, I feel the pocket ripped from my sleeve, see the deep violet pill fall to the ground, watch Cinna's last gift get crunched under a guard's boot. — Suzanne Collins

I didn't think you were real for a long time," I confess. "I thought you were someone I'd dreamed up."
"A dream worth reliving every night for ten years?" he asks, chuckling and slowly loosening his hold.
"For eternity," I whisper, winding my arms around his neck to keep him close.
"Good." He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. "That is exactly how long I plan on keeping you. — Erica Cameron

So many beginnings. I tell myself that in a way it's good that I haven't found Ky yet, because I still don't know what to whisper to him when I see him, which words would be the very best ones to give. — Ally Condie

You have a fight ahead of you, one that goes far beyond what you've seen in your dreams."
Well fucking hell. "Please tell me some good news," I whisper to him, my nails digging into my palm. "Your bedside manner sucks."
"I'm your good news. — Karina Halle

True power is invisible and impeccable, like good taste. It is never clumsy or artless. Powerful people whisper, suggest, seduce, in order to coerce. They only use volume for effect. This is how you can tell a blowhard from a mogul ... Most powerful people don't need to coerce; their mere presence is coercive. — Lynda Obst

Knowledge doesn't exist in matters of the heart. — Willowy Whisper

Let your work speak for itself:
If poor, it will remain silent.
If average, it will whisper.
If good, it will talk.
If great, it will shout.
If genius, it will sing. — Matshona Dhliwayo

Dear Lord, I struggle caring too much about the opinions of others. I beg You to please whisper words of truth into my heart and mind today. Protect me from both the bad and good opinions of others as I am reminded that only Your opinion counts. In Jesus' name. Amen. — Lysa TerKeurst

Tonight, late, when I'm still not done with the day but must comply with sleep, I can whisper, "There was done a little good today. Today I changed myself and the world, just a little. And yes, I loved." Most days, that is enough. — Mary Anne Radmacher

Edward got up from his desk, limped across to hers, and placed both hands, palms down, upon it. He leaned over until his eyes were only inches from her hazel ones. "I am not ashamed," he said very slowly. "I did not fall off my horse. I was not thrown from my horse. I wish to end this discussion. Is that amenable to you, Mrs. Wren?" Anna swallowed visibly, drawing his eyes to her throat. "Yes. Yes, that's quite amenable to me, Lord Swartingham." "Good." His gaze rose to her lips, wet where she had licked them in her nervousness. "I thought of you while I was gone. Did you think of me? Did you miss me?" "I - " she started to whisper. — Elizabeth Hoyt

He lifted up another card and set it down before him. 'Priest of Life, hah, now that's a good one. Game's done.'
'Who wins?' the Adjunct, her face pale as candlewax, asked in a whisper.
'Nobody,' Fiddler replied. 'That's Life for you.' He suddenly rose, tottered, then staggered for the door. — Steven Erikson

She swallows, then adds in a horrified whisper, "I wanted you to make Jason Kim bleed. A lot."
I blink, surprised. And pleased, though I know I shouldn't be. I'm supposed to be turning Ariel away from her dark side, not indulging her taste for bloodshed. But then, I didn't really believe she had one. She seems so good to me. At least, most of the time. When she isn't trying to commit murder/suicide by driving a car off the road or proclaiming her undying hatred. — Stacey Jay

Nobody wants to admit to this, but bad things will keep on happening. Maybe that's beause it's all a chain, and a long time ago someone did the first bad thing, and that led someone else to do another bad thing, and so on.
You know, like that game where you whisper a sentence into someone's ear, and that person whispers it to someone else, and it all comes out wrong in the end.
But then again, maybe bad things happen because it's the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like. — Jodi Picoult

Is love the desire - no, the need - to be with that person, whatever the cost? Does it cause the rue of rage when you see that person with another? Does it make you ache to hold her, to whisper things that sound foreign and strange to your tongue? Does it make you wish for things you know can never be?
I haven't the answers, Riley. In all that I've learned over the years, no one has ever mentioned a force such as this. But whatever it is, I feel it for you.
We would have been good together. — Keri Arthur

No one has ever touched me like you do. You're like a whisper. Gentle, soft. Soothing. In my world, the people only shout and scream. But you ... you're my haven. "
... "God, you're good — Sherrilyn Kenyon

What you should really be sorry for," he continued, "is that for the rest of my life, I'll have to avoid wine cellars to keep from thinking about you."
"Why? Was kissing me that bad?"
A devil-solf whisper. "No sweetheart. It was that good. — Lisa Kleypas

I just want to know...if I am special,' finished September, halfway between a whisper and a squeak. 'In stories, when someone appears in a poof of green clouds and asks a girl to go away on an adventure, it's because she's special, because she's smart and strong and can solve riddles and fight with swords and give really good speeches, and . . . I don't know that I'm any of those things. I don't even know that I'm as ill-tempered as all that. I'm not dull or anything, I know about geography and chess, and I can fix the boiler when my mother has to work. But what I mean to say is: Maybe you meant to go to another girl's house and let her ride on the Leopard. Maybe you didn't mean to choose me at all, because I'm not like storybook girls. I'm short and my father ran away with the army and I wouldn't even be able to keep a dog from eating a bird. — Catherynne M Valente

His gaze flashes up to lock on mine. I see his intent a split second before it turns to action.
"Don't," I whisper.
He takes a step toward me anyway.
"We shouldn't," I say, not moving.
He prowls closer.
"No good can come of this," I point out.
His hands hit my shoulders and he hauls me into his chest.
"This is a bad idea," I breathe against his lips.
"This is a fucking great idea," he mutters.
And then I can't say anything else, can't even think of anything else, because his mouth is on mine. — Julie Johnson

You aren't up to dealing with werewolf business." "Seems to me that she's been dealing just fine," Adam said mildly. "She killed two of them in as many days and came out of it without a scratch." "Luck," said Samuel. "Is it?" In my rearview mirror, I saw Adam close his eyes as he finished in almost a whisper. "Maybe so. When I was in the army, we kept lucky soldiers where they would do us the most good." "Adam — Patricia Briggs

You'd like some soothin', wouldn't you, Mr. Fairfax?" she asked in a sympathetic voice. A raw chuckle left his throat as he thought of Emma forcing this poor little minx into a calico dress and an old lady's snood. "I sure would, Callie," he answered honestly, "but I'm afraid there's only one woman I want." A mischievous grin curved Callie's mouth. "Miss Emma?" "The same," Steven admitted with a sigh, "but don't you tell her. I want this to be our little secret." Callie sat down in the chair Emma always occupied when she read to him. He found himself missing that redheaded hellcat with a fierce keenness, as though they'd been parted a month instead of a few hours. "She got real upset, Miss Emma did," Callie confided in a happy whisper, "when I came over here and told her Miss Chloe'd sent me to look after you." Steven laughed. "Good," he replied, staring out the window at the sun. It seemed to be immersing itself in the far side of the lake. "I'm making progress." Callie — Linda Lael Miller

An old adage says that a good rider can hear his horse speak and a great rider can hear his horse whisper. — Elizabeth Letts

His lips grazed the side of my earlobe, his heavy breathing tickling my neck. "I don't like to share," he said in a low whisper.
I don't like to share either! "Good thing you don't have to. Sammie looks very content having you to herself." I pulled my arm from his hold and smiled. — Livia Jamerlan

I had learned volleyball in the Navy, where all the captains and admirals wanted to be spikers, and I found then that a man who can subdue his own desires and master the art of serving others can make himself invaluable. In choosing sides the team captain always chose the good spikers on the first and second choice, but then the spikers would grab his arm and whisper, 'Take Michener.' I was never chosen lower than third, because I was needed. I wasn't good, but I was faithful. — James A. Michener

There is nothing very odd about lambs disliking birds of prey, but this is no reason for holding it against large birds of prey that they carry off lambs. And when the lambs whisper among themselves, 'These birds of prey are evil, and does this not give us a right to say that whatever of the opposite of a bird of prey must be good?', there is nothing intrinsically wrong with such an argument - though the birds of prey will look somewhat quizzically and say, 'Wehave nothing against these good lambs; in fact, we love them; nothing tastes better than a tender lamb. — Friedrich Nietzsche

She has shared her hurt with me, and now a little bit of it is mine. This thing she couldn't bear alone, I can bear some of it, I can be hurt, too, and here's the thing you'd never expect about this kind of second-hand-hurt - it feels so good, it makes you feel whole, it makes you feel necessary, and even if you don't realize it right away, you'll find, as time passes, as the bearing of the hurt further intoxicates you, makes you more fully hers and she more fully yours, that you'll do anything to keep it; you'll say anything, you'll believe anything, you'll compromise anything, you'll build your self-worth around that tiny grain of hurt she lent you, and in return you'll hold her chin in your hand and run your thumb over the corner of her mouth and tickle the back of her earlobe with your finger and whisper to her over and over and over that "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay - — Jared Young

whisper their good-byes. — Mitch Albom

We'd never miss Alex's retirement. No matter how you feel about us being here."

Pompous prick. That was the exact reason Reese bounced his fist off Hayes's face all those years ago. He flexed his hand with the temptation to do it now too. Smarmy dickweed.

"Alex is a good man." Merina stroked Reese's arm, bringing his temper down a notch. "I'm sure he can see exactly what you are trying to accomplish by being here. If you'll excuse us." In a stage whisper, she added, "I'm going to sneak out of here for a moment with Reese. You remember how hard it was to keep your hands off him, I'm sure. — Jessica Lemmon

Listen, Nicole, I've had all I can take of you telling me what I need. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're exactly what I need? That maybe, in the middle of all this miserable neck-snapping and repelling and crossing the bloody hell over, all I really want is someone ... someone good who will let me be a fucking man? Just a fucking human being with flaws and unenlightened days? Is that too much to ask? That you let me fucking love you, Nicole? Because that's what I need! That's all I'd ever need from you. Just to love you. Can you deny me that? - Christian Wright (Whisper of Light) — Jennifer DeLucy

Jen leaned around Sally and glared at her two best friends. "What are you two betting on?"
"Good grief. What, does she have eagle ears or something?"
"No you dork. Your whisper is just you talking in normal volume but making your voice raspy. Really, you sound more like a chick who's been smoking for thirty years." Jen shrugged. "I'm just throwing that out there. You can take it and apply it at your leisure."
Fane was chuckling at Jen's words when Jacque elbowed him, causing him to cough.
"You don't get to laugh, wolf-man." Jacque turned back to Jen. "Thank you for that observation, Sherlock. — Quinn Loftis

He (Michael) was gone in a whisper of air, hardly making any sound at all, and Claire shivered and leaned against Shane's solid, very human warmth. His arms went around her, and he touched
his lips lightly to the back of her neck. "How can you smell this good after the kind of crappy day we've had?"
"I sweat perfume. Like all girls. — Rachel Caine

Because your mine." I snuggled in tighter to his muscular chest. "And I don't want the Jennas of the world to get a good look at what they've been missing and steal you away." I inhaled deeply, letting Bryn's scent surround me in comfort - home. As I began drifting off to sleep, I heard Bryn whisper something that id never forget. "There's never any danger of that. I'm yours. Always — D.T. Dyllin

How frequently is the honesty and integrity of a man disposed of by a smile or shrug! How many good and generous actions have been sunk into oblivion by a distrustful look, or stamped With the imputation of proceeding from bad motives, by a mysterious and seasonable whisper! — Laurence Sterne

Why are you so good to me Peter?"
My head tilts back against the tree. My eyes are too heavy to keep open. I feel the vague sensation of his hands sliding under me, weightlessness as he lifts me up and settles me against his broad chest.
On the edge of sleep, I hear him whisper,"That's for me to know and you to never find out. — Dan Krokos

If we knew a person was going to die, we'd hold harder to the memories."
Fire corrected him, in a whisper. "The good memories. — Kristin Cashore

How can you be like this?' I whisper. 'How can you even trust me, after everything?' 'I'm not sure I do trust you,' he whispers back. He reaches out with his other hand and touches my stomach. I feel it drop to the floor. (My stomach, that is.) 'But ... ' He shrugs. He's rubbing my stomach, and I close my eyes-because it feels good. (So good.) And also because I want him to kiss me again. — Rainbow Rowell

Penny grabs my arm when I walk past Baz's bed on the way to the bathroom. "It's good to see you," she whispers.
I smile. Again. Penny makes my cheeks hurt. "Don't make a scene," I whisper back. — Rainbow Rowell

I grin. "Good night, OMG." He slowly shakes his head back and forth while his eyes narrow playfully. "You're lucky I like you, Auburn Mason Reed." With that, he closes the door. "Oh my God," I whisper. I think I might have a crush on that boy. — Colleen Hoover

You aren't my type, just the way that I am not yours. But that's why we are good for each other - we are so different, yet we're the same. You told me once that I bring out the worst in you. Well, you bring out the best in me. I know you feel it, too, Tessa. And yes, I didn't date, until you. You make me want to date, you make me want to be better. I want you to think I am worthy of you; I want you to want me the way I do you. I want to fight with you, even scream at each other until one of us admits we are wrong. I want to make you laugh, and listen to you ramble about classic novels. I just . . . I need you. I know I am cruel at times . . . well, all the time, but that's only because I don't know how else to be." His voice becomes a half whisper, his eyes wild. "This has been me for so long, I have never wanted to be any other way. Until now, until you." - Hardin — Anna Todd

You have a mouth made for kissing," he murmured, angling her to face him. "Did you know that?"
She shook her head.
"So soft and generous." Leaning in, he tipped her chin with the heel of his hand. "Sweet."
"No man's ever called me sweet."
"Has any other man kissed you?"
Again, she gave a little shake of the head.
"Well, then. That's why." He brushed his lips over hers, just lightly, sending pure sensation frizzing through her veins. He hummed with satisfaction. "You taste of ripe plums."
She couldn't help it. She laughed. "Now that's just absurd."
"Why?"
"Because it's too early in the year for ripe plums."
His husky chuckle shook them both. "You're entirely too logical for your own good. A thorough kissing can mend that."
"I don't want mending."
"Perhaps not. But I think you do want kissing." He nuzzled the curve of her cheek, and his voice dropped to a sensual whisper. "Don't you?"
She did. Oh, she did. — Tessa Dare

What else did you imagine?" His voice is low and rough and oh, so fucking sexy. "Tell me what happens next."

"You already know, " I whisper. "All the very good, very wrong things."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Okay," I say through my teeth. "You fuck me until I forget my own name."

"Wrong," he says. "I fuck you until the only name you know is mine. — Mercy Brown

Rule if this goes bad it's gonna be so, so bad." Her voice was just a husky whisper against my chest.
"True, but if it's good it's going be so very, very good. — Jay Crownover

I want you to tell me something," I whisper. "What?" "Don't get mad." "What is it, Ana?" "You do care." His eyes widen, and all trace of his good humor vanishes. "I want you to admit that you care. Because the Christian I know and love would care." He stills, his eyes not leaving mine, and I'm witness to his internal struggle as if he's about to make the judgment of Solomon. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again as some fleeting emotion crosses his face ... pain, maybe. — E.L. James

But of course, very few people are Dexter. This is generally a good thing, but in this case it came in handy to be me. Four months after reading a story in the paper about a missing boy, I read a similar story. The boys were around the same age; details like that always ring a small bell and send a Mister Rogers whisper trickling through my brain: Hello, neighbor. — Jeff Lindsay

Who said anything about sleeping? I'm talking about sex. Good sex. Lots of it."
That puts a flush on her pretty cheeks and she laughs. "I don't want to have sex with you."
I pat her hand. "Now you're just being silly. The cat-and-mouse game can be tantalizing, but it's not necessary." My voice drops to a whisper. "I'm a sure thing. — Emma Chase

You listen to your heart, Jack. And you listen to the voice that comes to you when you close your eyes. You'll know it because it will be something between a feeling and a whisper. And that voice? Jack, if your heart is good like yours is, that voice never, ever lies. — Mia Sheridan

And my haunting instinct that somehow good was not merely a tool to be used, but a relic to be guarded, like the goods from Crusoe's ship
even that had been the wild whisper of something originally wise, for, according to Christianity, we were indeed the survivors of a wreck, the crew of a golden ship that had gone down before the beginning of the world. — Gilbert K. Chesterton

He reached out to stroke the spines of the books, as if they might whisper their secrets to him if he touched them. But the books remained silent, as all good books tend to do when touched by people to whom they don't belong. — Christoph Marzi

Ranger pulled onto the shoulder and reprogrammed the GPS system. "Lucky for you, you look good in a T-shirt," Ranger said. "Lucky for you I don't have a gun on me." Ranger turned to me. His voice was low and even, but there was a whisper of incredulous disbelief. "You're not carrying a gun?" "Didn't seem necessary for us both to have one. — Janet Evanovich

We don't often see our own stories. Good artists are the ones that whisper our own stories back to us. — Tori Amos

I stand here because of you, my Aslan, my Faye, my protectors and I make the promise that what you gave me, what you taught me, I will live those lessons. I cannot repay you for what you gave me. That's all I can do. All I can do is learn the lesson you taught me and go forward in my life good and pure and right." His voice dipped to a whisper in the microphone and he finished, "Thank you." — Kristen Ashley

We keep a safe distance. We only whisper. We duck into the shadows whenever Cinderella turns around. We're really good at this sneaky thing. I bet we could be spies when we grow up. We'd be the cool brother-and-sister team that gets to go to exotic — Sarah Mlynowski

I whisper to the sea three times. Once I ask that Corr will be meek and good, so they'll have no reason to use the bells and magic that he so despises.
But twice I whisper for him to be despicable, so that they'll beg for me to come back. — Maggie Stiefvater

Good Lord," I whisper at my thoughts, barely stifling a shiver. "Kissing me is similar to a religious experience, or so I've been told." Gleaming green eyes meet mine as he teases me. — Anonymous

I didn't hear the exact moment Sarren ended Zeke's life. I was just aware of his breathing, tagged at first, then seizing up, as if he could no longer gasp for her. And then, a long, agonizingly slow exhale, the last gulp departing his lungs, as Ezekiel's tortured breaths finally, irreversibly, stopped altogether.
"Good night, sweet prince." Sarren crooned, a velvet whisper.
The recording clicked off. — Julie Kagawa

Cohen starts smiling and nods his head. "This is good, Daddy. I knew my angels would give me sisters. I asked them." Melissa stops laughing and grabs my hand. "What do you mean, baby?" she asks on a whisper. "I asked Nana, Mommy Fia, and Auntie Grace to give me a sister. I said I wanted a sister more than anything in the world so I can look out for her like Daddy looks out for you. — Harper Sloan

Do you feel that? It is a calm shift in the wind.
Do you hear that? It is a soft whisper of hope.
Do you see that? It is the divine hand of guidance, mercifully extended to aid our good fight. — Richelle E. Goodrich

All still when summer is over stand shocks in the field, nothing left to whisper, not even good-bye, to the wind. After summer was over we knew winter would come: we knew silence would wait, tall, patient calm. — William Stafford

Jacque leaned over and whispered in Sally's ear, "I give it two days before he lays one on her."
"You're being generous. I say less than twenty four hours."
"Is that a bet?" Jacque asked, eyebrows raised.
"Better believe it," Sally answered. Her lips eased into a crooked smile.
Jen leaned around Sally and glared at her two best friends. "What are you two betting on?"
"Good grief. What, does she have eagle ears or something?"
"No, you dork. Your whisper is just you talking in normal volume but making your voice raspy. Really, you sound more like a chick who's been smoking for thirty years."
Jen shrugged. "I'm just throwing that out there. You can take it and apply it at your leisure."
Fane was chuckling at Jen's words when Jacque elbowed him, causing him to cough."You don't get to laugh, wolf-man."
Jacque turned back to Jen. "Thank you for that observation, Sherlock."
"Always glad to help a friend in need, Watson." Jen grinned at Jacque's irritated look. — Quinn Loftis

What you complain of in yourself, comprises the best marks of grace I can offer. A sense of unworthiness and weakness, joined with a hope in the Savior, constitutes the character of a Christian in this world. But you want the witness of the Spirit. What do you mean by this? Is it a whisper or a voice from heaven, to encourage you to believe that you may venture to hope that the promises of God are true, that he means what he says, and is able to make his word good? Your eyes are opened, you are weary of sin, you love the way of salvation yourself, and love to point it out to others, you are devoted to God, to his cause and people. It was not so with you once. Either you have somewhere stolen these blessings, or you have received them from the Holy Spirit. — Tony Reinke

Just say "I'm sorry." It's not a tongue twister. It does not need repeating multiple times. The phrase is simple and short, easy to articulate. And the last time I checked, it sounded just as good - if not better - in a whisper. So just say it; say "I'm sorry. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Except that now, for having accused Ravi of an unspecified crime he hadn't committed, I was as good as dead. In years subsequent, when he was in the mood to terrorize me, he would whisper to me, Just wait till we're alone. You're the next goat! — Yann Martel

I want to be good to you." He rolls me to face him, and kisses me once before admitting, "I'm just fucking wild for you."
"I think I spotted that just now," I whisper.
"I mean," he clarifies, "the I love you kind of wild. — Christina Lauren

To avoid regret, you do and say and express every good thing you can possibly do and say and express to those you love. 'Cause you're going to find there isn't always time to whisper good-bye. — Andy Andrews

When you've spent your whole life not being good enough, it takes time to let yourself believe that you finally are. Self-worth isn't a switch that flips inside you. It's a daily struggle not to sabotage your own success. Not to cave into the voices inside your head that whisper you're not good enough, or you'll fuck things up, or that someone else could do things better than you. — Julie Johnson

Congratulations. So far, you've both scored a hundred percent on the quiz."
"Quiz?" Liam blinked, then looked at Hammer, his eyes wide. "Shit, we didn't study, mate."
"If Seth is giving the quiz, we're good. He can't be smarter than us," Hammer said in a stage whisper. — Shayla Black

Bad news. If you can see it coming, you brace yourself; you weigh the outcome. But there's always that niggling voice, that voice of hope whispering, 'Maybe it's good news.' Whether you can admit it or not, that little whisper is a potent thing. — Lily Gardner

She lowers herself to the bed and releases a pained sigh that is both relief and agony. I know this because I feel it, too, as I rock in and out of her tight pussy with the realization that I don't want the torment to end. I want to stay inside of her, with her warm, silky body around my dick and her soft whisper droning inside my head, telling me how good it feels. — Keri Lake

I'm not trying to be self-righteous about that, but I am literally the best friend a person could ask for and I am a good listener and anybody who doesn't want to be my friend should take a long, hard look at him/herself and whisper, What is wrong with me? Why was I born without the capacity to love? — Katie Heaney

I need you, Desari. I was empty without you. And that kind of emptiness eats away at you, consumes you until your soul is dark and ugly and all that matters is sating your hunger. But nothing fills the void.Nothing. Year after year you endure the emptiness until life itself is a curse hardly to be borne. And all the while the darkness, the beast in you whispers, an insidious whisper promising power from the kill,promises that wear away your belief in God,in all the things that are right and true and good.The monster inside you,so black and hungry for life, grows and grows until it has consumed everything you ever were. That is the curse born by Carpathian males, Desari. — Christine Feehan

You alarm me!' said the King. 'I feel faint - Give me a ham sandwich!'
On which the Messenger, to Alice's great amusement, opened a bag that hung round his neck, and handed a sandwich to the King, who devoured it greedily.
'Another sandwich!' said the King.
'There's nothing but hay left now,' the Messenger said, peeping into the bag.
'Hay, then,' the King murmured in a faint whisper.
Alice was glad to see that it revived him a good deal. 'There's nothing like eating hay when you're faint,' he remarked to her, as he munched away.
'I should think throwing cold water over you would be better,' Alice suggested: 'or some sal-volatile.'
'I didn't say there was nothing better,' the King replied. 'I said there was nothing like it.' Which Alice did not venture to deny. — Lewis Carroll

But if he does pick you . . . that'll be good. You deserve to be happy." That was it. I slapped him. "You idiot!" I whisper-yelled at him. "I hate him! I loved you! I wanted you; all I ever wanted was you! — Kiera Cass

My head rested on his shoulder, my heart rested entirely in his hands And in a whisper, my words escaped: "I love you." He probably hadn't heard them. He was too focused on the movie. But he heard me; I could tell. His arms enveloped me even further; his embrace tightened. He breathed in and sighed, and his hand played with my hair. "Good," he said softly, and his gentle lips found mine. — Ree Drummond

Nolan nodded gravely. "Men. Good to meet you." As Beth walked through the door, she heard Grant whisper in wonder, "He called us men. — Cherise Sinclair

Human beings are no damn good," he said. "We are even worse than animals. We like ... "
He trailed off, cleared his throat, but his voice hardly reached a whisper.
"We like monsters," he said. — Victor LaValle

It felt like some kind of honor, you know? Being asked to be the head of the Council's son-in-law. Plus, you dad, he, uh, told me a lot about you."
My voice was barely above a whisper. "What did he say?"
"That you were smart, and strong. Funny. That you had trouble using your powers, but you were always trying to use them to help people." He shrugged. "I thought we'd be a good match."
The vast dining room suddenly felt very small, like it consisted only of this table and me and Cal. — Rachel Hawkins

God is always good and I am always loved. Everything is eucharisteo. Because eucharisteo is how Jesus, at the Last Supper, showed us to transfigure all things - take the pain that is given, give thanks for it, and transform it into a joy that fulfills all emptiness. I have glimpsed it: This, the hard eucharisteo. The hard discipline to lean into the ugly and whisper thanks to transfigure it into beauty. The hard discipline to give thanks for all things at all times because He is all good. — Ann Voskamp

Vianne knew Rachel wasn't asking how to hide in the barn; she was asking how to live after a loss like this, how to pick up one child and let the other go, how to keep breathing after you whisper "good-bye." "I can't leave her. — Kristin Hannah

My friend Erin says we all have demons inside us, voices that whisper we're no good, that if we don't make this promotion or ace that exam we'll reveal to the world exactly what kind of worthless sacks of skin and sinew we really are Maybe that's true. Maybe mine just have louder voices. — Ruth Ware

He would enter silently and wake Magdalyn roughly. He loved Magdalyn's scream. He would beat her savagely and acuse her of plotting against him.
If she begged and swore it wasn't true like most frightened women would, he'd throw her off the balcony. If she cursed him, he would bang her, matching her defiance with an equal degree of brutality, and she would live another day. Before he left, he would hold her tenderly in his arms and whisper that he was sorry, that he loved her. Decent women always wanted to see something good in him. He shivered in anticipation. — Brent Weeks

I write first drafts with only the good angel on my shoulder, the voice that approves of everything I write. This voice does'nt ask questions like, Is this good? Is this a poem? Are you a poet? I keep this voice at a distance, letting only the good angel whisper to me: Trust yourself. You can't worry a poem into existence. — Georgia Heard

Don't push me, little girl. You don't wanna see my bad side."
I blink a second before my eyes widen and i lean back from him as I whisper hiss, "This is your good side? — Belle Aurora

I can't take anymore heartbreak," I confessed on a broken whisper.
"Then it's a good thing I'm not going to break your heart." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips. — Rachel Higginson

Everyone's scared. So scared they can't sleep sometimes. Or eat. Or keep their weight on."
"Then why bother playing?" I asked. It was a whisper, this question.
"Because. You love the game. You love the people you play with. You love winning, maybe. You love that one moment when you get it right ... I dunno. Why do you play?"
"Because," I whispered, "it's who I am."
Sounds like a good reason to me. — Catherine Gilbert Murdock

Feyre," he said
softly enough that I faced him again. "Why?" He tilted his head to the side. "You dislike our kind on a good day. And after Andras ... " Even in the darkened hallway, his usual bright eyes were shadowed. "So why?"
I took a step closer to him, my blood-covered feet sticking to the rug. I glanced down the stairs to where I could still see the prone form of the faerie and the stumps of his wings.
"Because I wouldn't want to die alone," I said, and my voice wobbled as I looked at Tamlin again, forcing myself to meet his stare. "Because I'd want someone to hold my hand until the end, and awhile after that. That's something everyone deserves, human or faerie." I swallowed hard, my throat painfully tight. "I regret what I did to Andras," I said, the words so strangled they were no more than a whisper. "I regret that there was ... such hate in my heart. I wish I could undo it
and ... I'm sorry. So very sorry. — Sarah J. Maas

Yes," I whisper so the others won't hear, "but being afraid is good because it means I still have more to lose. — Caroline George

Edward leaned close and whispered in my ear so that Olaf would think he was whispering sweet nothings, but what he what he actually said, was, We aren't the good guys, Anita. We're the necessary guys. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Look," I whisper to Cat, "Shooting star! That's good luck."
She rolls her eyes. "It's a plane, you idiot," she says, and when I look again I can see that she's right. Typical. — Cathy Cassidy

You asked me if I want kids, and the answer is, that I want anything - everything - you want to give me. I want your mornings and your nights. I want your bickering and your eye rolls. I want your nudges when I'm hugging you too tight at night. I want your groans when I tell you a joke, and your moans when I'm making you feel good." "And what do I get?" I ask, my voice a hoarse whisper. "You get everything," he says. — Claire Contreras

My breasts are small," I said in a whisper, but immediately despised myself because it sounded as if I were making excuses, excuse me if I can't offer you big tits, I hope you enjoy yourself anyway, idiot that I was, if he liked little tits, good; if not, the worse for him, it was all free, a stroke of luck had fallen to this shit, the best birthday present he could hope for, at his age. — Elena Ferrante

Trauma's storm can mask the Christ and feelings can lie. I draw all the hurting voices close and I tough their scars with a whisper: sometimes we don't fully see that in Christ, because of Christ, through Christ, He does give us all things good - until we have the perspective of years.
In time, years, dust settles.
In memory, ages, God emerges. — Ann Voskamp

Now I find my good men
Are gathered in the night
To wait in silence, not to sleep
And the glorious word of liberty
They whisper and murmur
Till in unaccustomed strangeness
On the steps of our temper
Once again in delight they cry
Freedom! Freedom! — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Before I left the house I put my head into the boys' bedroom. The room was cool but the children seemed to radiate warmth - their glow was in the air - and this warmth from such a small bed I associated with their good hearts. They still smelled soapily of their baths, and I kissed their warm cheeks and whispered good night. What is it in darkness that makes us whisper? — Paul Theroux

We want our children to know and believe the one good story. Every other story is a copy or shadow of this one. Some copies of it are quite good and shout the Truth. Others see only the faintest whisper of it, or, in its absence remind us of the Truth. We want our kids to know the one good story so well that when they see Luke Skywalker, Harry Potter, Frodo, Anne of Green Gables, Arielle, or Sleeping Beauty, they can recognize the strands of Truth and deception in them. Saturating our children in the one good story will enable them to discern Truth and error as it comes to them from the world. — Elyse M. Fitzpatrick

You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find. — Suzanne Collins

As far as plans went, it was like facing the zombie apocalypse with a nail file and a bag of Skittles. It might work, but chances were good that I'd die a horrible, painful death.
At least the end would be filled with fruity, candy goodness. And for my dramatic death scene I could whisper, in a creepy, quivery death rattle, taste the rainbow. Boy would those zombies be confused. — E.J. Stevens

Sorrow is not a raven perched persistently above a chamber door. Sorrow is a thing with teeth, and while in time it retreats, it comes back at the whisper of it's name. — Dean Koontz

A good trainer can hear a horse speak to him. A great trainer can hear him whisper. — Monty Roberts