Ichika Nito Quotes & Sayings

Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us. — Emily Bronte

It'll be hard not to tease your folk sometimes."

Brishen couldn't imagine how she might go about such a thing. He had no idea if the Kai and the Gauri even knew the same jokes or found the same things funny. "What do you mean?"

He almost leapt out of his skin when Ildiko stared at him as both of her eyes drifted slowly down and over until they seemed to meet together, separated only by the elegant bridge of her nose.

"Lover of thorns and holy gods!" he yelped and clapped one hand across her eyes to shut out the sight. "Stop that," he ordered.

Ildiko laughed and pushed his hand away. She laughed even harder when she caught sight of his expression. "Wait," she gasped on a giggle. "I can do better. Want to see me make one eye cross and have the other stay still?"

Brishen reared back. "No!" He grimaced. "Nightmarish. I'll thank you to keep that particular talent to yourself, wife. — Grace Draven

Lying and corruption begins to seep into the emotional zeitgeist of the entire country. If individual and institutional "leaders" are not exposed, confronted, and prosecuted or ousted for their misdeeds, the inevitable result of all this bureaucratic, corporate, and government corruption will be full-scale cultural suicide in the form of mass amorality - behavior without any moral guidelines - which can generate social chaos in a historically moral country, which can next generate restoration of "order" by way of martial law, which can then generate full dictatorship. More: — Alexandra York

THE IMPULSE IS TO SQUEEZE AND
FONDLE BABY WILD ANIMALS
BUT THEN THEY'D BE BROKEN AND
WHAT GOOD WOULD THEY BE? — Jenny Holzer

I would like to be called an inspiration to people, not a role model - because I make mistakes like everybody else. When I'm offstage, I'm just like everybody else. — Britney Spears

And heaved and heaved, still unrestingly heaved the black sea, as if its vast tides were a conscience; and the great mundane soul were in anguish and remorse for the long sin and suffering it had bred. — Herman Melville

Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed. — Thomas Gray

You got to figure out which end of the needle you're gon be, the one that's fastened to the thread or the end that pierces the cloth. — Sue Monk Kidd

The term "racist" comes from the word "racialist": Someone that sees the world from a racial prism. — A.E. Samaan

Even the Inquisitor's eyebrows shot up when Magnus strode through the gate. The High Warlock was wearing black leather pants, a belt with a buckle in the shape of a jeweled M, and a cobalt-blue Prussian military jacket open over a white lace shirt. He shimmered with layers of glitter. His gaze rested for a moment on Alec's face with amusement and a hint of something else before moving on to Jace, prone on the ground.
"Is he dead?" he inquired. "He looks dead."
"No," snapped Maryse. "He's not dead."
"Have you checked? I could kick him if you want." Magnus moved toward Jace.
"Stop that!" the Inquisitor snapped, sounding like Clary's third-grade teacher demanding that she stop doodling on her desk with a marker. — Cassandra Clare

Knowing, above all, that I would come looking, and find what he had left for me, all that remained of The Jungle Book in the pocket of his doctor's coat, that folder-up, yellowed page torn from the back of the book, with a bristle of thick, coarse hairs clenced inside. Galina, says my grandfather's handwriting, above and below a child's drawing of the tiger, who is curved like the blade of a scimitar across the page. Galina, it says, and that is how I know to find him again, in Galina, in the story he hadn't told me but perhaps wished he had. — Tea Obreht

I've gone through managers like people go through shredded wheat. Nobody looks after you. — Steven Morrissey

As we walk I can hear the barrel of his gun, slapping against his thigh. — Lauren Oliver

We have traditionally thought of knowing in terms of subject and object and have struggled to attain objectivity by detaching our subjectivity. It can't be done, and one of the achievements of postmodernity is to demonstrate that. What we are called to, and what in the resurrection we are equipped for, is a knowing in which we are involved as subjects but as self-giving, not as self-seeking, subjects: in other words, a knowing that is a form of love. — N. T. Wright

These were the new girls of New York- complete with rapid heartbeats from too much nicotine and coffee. They were nervous and fluttery but completely alluring- the new face of urban femininity. — Elizabeth Winder