Little Angel Quotes & Sayings

The snide little fucker actually paid you a visit in person?


~ Her Demonic Angel ~ — Felicity Heaton

This fragile little angel stays here until I let her go. — Delilah Gardner

Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light? Or just another lost angel ... City of Night? — Jim Morrison

Fuck you, angel. Fuck you and all God's little prison bitches. He slips you some cigarettes and a con job smile and you run off to do his dirty work for him. Go and scare some sinners. No one's listening to you here. — Richard Kadrey

Heaven has its business and earth has its business: those are two separate things. Heaven, that's the angels' pasture; they are happy; they don't have to fret about food and drink. And you can be sure that they have black angels to do the heavy work like laundering the clouds or sweeping the rain and cleaning the sun after a storm, while the white angels sing like nightingales all day long or blow in those little trumpets like they show in the pictures we see in church. — Jacques Roumain

The man who perceives life only with his eye, his ear, his hand, and his tongue, is but little higher than the ox or an intelligent dog; but he who has imagination sees things around and above him, as the angels see them. — Henry Ward Beecher

And there in front of her was Julian, his eyes and ears closed to anything but Livvy, her body cradled against his. She seemed a drift of fragile ash or snow, something impermanent that had blown into his arms accidentally: the petal of a faerie flower, the white feather of an angel's wing. The dream of a little girl, the memory of a sister reaching up her arms: Julian, Julian, carry me. — Cassandra Clare

And sometimes
when she does remember,
she calls me her little angel
and she knows where she is
and everything is all right
for a second or a minute
and then we cry;
she for the life that she lost
I for the woman I only know about
through the stories of her children. — Rebecca Rijsdijk

You are the only beautiful thing that has ever come close to me. You came line an angel out of the sky. You are like the music you sing, you are like the stars and the snow on the mountains where I played when I was a little boy. You are like all tha they have killed in me. I die for you tonight, tomorrrow, for all eternity. I am not a cowaqrd; I was afraid cause I lovey ou more than Christ who died for me, more than I am afraid of hell, or hope for heaven. I was never afraid before. — Willa Cather

The time arrives. 'It is a waltz, I think,' Miss Larkins doubtfully observes, when I present myself. 'Do you waltz? If not, Captain Bailey - ' But I do waltz (pretty well, too, as it happens), and I take Miss Larkins out. I take her sternly from the side of Captain Bailey. He is wretched, I have no doubt; but he is nothing to me. I have been wretched, too. I waltz with the eldest Miss Larkins! I don't know where, among whom, or how long. I only know that I swim about in space, with a blue angel, in a state of blissful delirium, until I find myself alone with her in a little room, resting on a sofa. She admires a flower (pink camellia japonica, price half-a-crown), in my button-hole. I give it her, and say: 'I ask an inestimable price for it, Miss Larkins.' 'Indeed! What is that?' returns Miss Larkins. 'A flower of yours, that I may treasure it as a miser does gold.' 'You're a bold boy,' says Miss Larkins. 'There. — Charles Dickens

My name is Bis," he said, "and I was kicked off the basilica because I was spitting on the people coming in. Suck-up little Glissando thinks she knows angel dust from dirt and tattled on me. — Kim Harrison

He stands in the doorway like a dark angel. His hair curls a little around his face, softening the hard perfection of his features. His eyes are trained on my face, and his lips are curved in a slight smile. He's stunning. And utterly terrifying. My instincts had been right--this man is capable of anything. — Anna Zaires

Bring the little ones to Christ. Lord Jesus, we bring them today, the children of our Sunday-schools, of our churches, of the streets. Here they are; they wait Thy benediction. The prayer of Jacob for his sons shall be my prayer while I live, and when I die: The angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads. — Thomas De Witt Talmage

All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need ... fantasies to make life bearable."
REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.
"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little - "
YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.
"So we can believe the big ones?"
YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.
"They're not the same at all!"
YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET - Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME ... SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.
"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point - "
MY POINT EXACTLY. — Terry Pratchett

If it makes you feel better, I don't feed on humans." For some reason, it did make her feel better to hear him say that. not that she believed it. But still, it was a little reassuring. "So, you're like Angel? He rolled his eyes at her. "You watch way too much television," he muttered. Then louder, he said, "Angel has a soul. I don't. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

The Angel that presided o'er my birth Said, 'Little creature, formed of joy and mirth, Go love without the help of any thing on earth' ... — William Blake

He said 'sorry,' They all fucking say sorry ... Sorry is a word, it fixes nothing; it just makes the perpetrator feel a little less like the arsehole he is. — Mercy Cortez

My little girl, oh, the daughter I never had. Now tell me, angel, are you fucking anybody new? — Michael Cunningham

Once a dream did weave a shade
O'er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangle spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'Oh my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropped a tear:
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied, 'What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?

'I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle's hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home!

- "A Dream — William Blake

Laughing at ourselves is possible when we are able to see humanity as it is - a little lower than the angels and at times only slightly higher than the apes. — Thomas Mullen

HANNAH: You had a vision.
PRIOR: A vision. Thank you, Maria Ouspenskaya. I'm not so far gone I can be assuaged by pity and lies.
HANNAH: I don't have pity. It's just not something I have.
(Little pause)
One hundred and seventy years ago, which is recent, an angel of God appeared to Joseph Smith in upstate
New York, not far from here. People have visions.
PRIOR: But that's preposterous, that's ...
HANNAH: It's not polite to call other people's beliefs preposterous.
He had great need of understanding. Our Prophet. His desire made prayer. His prayer made an angel. The angel was real. I believe that.
PRIOR: I don't. And I'm sorry but it's repellent to me. So much of what you believe.
HANNAH: What do I believe?
PRIOR: I'm a homosexual. With AIDS. I can just imagine what you ...
HANNAH: No you can't. Imagine. The things in my head.
You don't make assumptions about me, mister; I won't make them about you. — Tony Kushner

In two easy strides, I reach her, weave my arms around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. My angel is so light she practically floats. "Isaiah! You're crazy!"
"Insane," I answer.
She rests her forehead against mine and braids her hands tightly on my neck. "That was close. He almost got you in the end."
I love the sensation of her body against mine. Tonight, I'm going to kiss her again and, if she'll let me, I'll explore a little further. "Were you doubting me?"
She smiles when she notices the lightness in my voice. "Never."
That's right, angel. I'll never let you down. — Katie McGarry

Blessed are the minimarshmallows," the angel said, swooning a little. — Christopher Moore

She looked exactly like an angel. I know my jaw dropped a little, and I just stood there looking at her for what seemed like a long time, shocked into silence, until I suddenly remembered that I had a line I had to deliver. I took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "You're beautiful," I finally said to her, and I think everyone in the whole auditorium, from the blue-haired ladies in the front to my friends in the back row, knew that I actually meant it. I'd nailed that line for the very first time. — Nicholas Sparks

We must be quite the sight. Raffe in his red mask with his demon wings spread out in all their scythe-edged glory. A scrawny teenage Daughter of Man brandishing an archangel sword. And a little girl stitched-up to look and behave like a nightmare who is clutching a pair of angel wings. — Susan Ee

Don't you see, angel?"
His arms tightened around me. "You're still on your feet.
You may hate yourself for every little mistake you make, but
the fact that you've survived means you've come out on top. It
might not be a perfect victory, but those are really, really rare.
Every day you stand up and face life again is a win. — Amelia C. Gormley

Ryon posed the question in all their minds -what the fuck is he?
The love child of Criss Angel and Adam Lambert? Jaxon tossed back.
His friend gave a soft snort that might've been a laugh. With a little Nikki Sixx thrown in, sure. — J.D. Tyler

Sometimes, the Angel [of Music] leans over the cradle ... and that is how there are little prodigies who play the fiddle at six better than men of fifty, which, you must admit is very wonderful. Sometimes, the Angel comes much later, because the children are naughty and won't learn their lessons or practice their scales. And sometimes, he does not come at all, because the children have a wicked heart or a bad conscience. — Gaston Leroux

There was no point in being an angel - that lesson had been drilled into him early and often. Hey, the Bible hadn't been his first choice of reading material, but once foisted on him, he twisted it to his advantage. According to the Good Book, angels got the short end of the stick. Lots of work for very little recognition.

But everyone knew Satan. — S.E. Jakes

Once in a stately passion I cried with desperate grief
'Oh Lord, my heart is black with guile, of sinners I am chief'
Then stooped my guardian angel and whispered from behind
'Vanity my little man, you're nothing of the kind'
— James Thomson

The angel lay in the little thicket. It had no need of love. There was nothing anywhere in the world could startle it. We can lie here with the angel if we like. It couldn't have hurt much when they slit its throat. — Kenneth Patchen

I don't want to fuck you, Elle. I want to make love to you. Take me gently, angel." I moan at his words and come back in a little too eagerly. "Gently," he whispers, halting me for an instant before I place my lips tenderly on his. — Lena Black

Are you using me simply as a vulgar tool? Don't you care for me the least little bit? Let me suggest that for a girl in your-your ambiguous position, you are too proud, by several shades. Don't go back to Roger in a hurry! You're not the unspotted maiden you were but two short days ago. Who am I, what am I, to the people whose opinion you care for? A very low fellow, madam; and yet with me you've gone far to cast your lot. If you're not prepared to do more, you should have done less.
Nora, Nora," he went on, breaking into a vein none the less revolting for being more ardent, "I confess I don't understand you! But the more you puzzle me the more you fascinate me; and the less you like me the more I love you. What has there been between you and Lawrence? Hang me if I can understand! Are you an angel of purity, or are you the most audacious of flirts? — Henry James

I especially wish to praise and encourage young mothers. The work of a mother is hard, too often unheralded work ... Do the best you can through these years, but whatever else you do, cherish that role that is so uniquely yours and for which heaven itself sends angels to watch over you and your little ones. — Jeffrey R. Holland

Daniel looked down the barrel of the shotgun al set to blow his
brains out and grinned. These days, even a gun-toting, trigger-happy
female was a delight to behold, and she was perfect.
Sunlight streamed in through the kitchen window. She all but shone
with it, like an angel or a princess or something. Something a little
overdue for a bath and a lot on edge, but something very good just
the same. The feeling of sweet relief rushing through him nearly
buckled his knees.
Tall and curvy, around thirty at a guess, and uninfected, she was by
far the best thing he had ever seen in jeans and a t-shirt. Not even the
dried blood splattered on the wal behind her could diminish the
picture she made.
Sadly, his girl did not appear to share his joy — Kylie Scott

Beautiful and nice; fuck the creators of that little angel. She makes me feel like hell. — Kim Holden

Just think of the possibilities, the potential. Every little boy that has just been born becomes an heir to this glorious, glorious program. When he is grown, he meets a lovely woman; they are married in the holy temple. They live all the commandments of the Lord. They keep themselves clean. And then they become sons of God, and they go forward with their great program-they go beyond the angels, beyond the angels and the gods that are waiting there. They go to their exaltation. — Spencer W. Kimball

Perhaps to bring good into the world, she needed to mix a little evil in it first. — A.J. Flowers

Even after two days, I can see that there are so many sides to him ... There's times he exudes such strength that it threatens to knock me flat ... Those are the times that I do believe he is an angel, that I do believe he guards us as he says he does. Then there are his other sides, most specifically when he seems unsure, hesitant ... His wonder is almost childlike in its mien. He sees things I no longer can because it is as if he's experiencing everything for the first time ... And then there's the darker part of him. I will send you and yours into the black. I don't want to think about that part. I don't want to know what "the black" is. It's only been two days since he fell from the sky, but those two days have shown just how little I really know about the world. — T.J. Klune

A Poem
By Max
White is the color of little bunnies with pink noses.
White is the color of fluffy clouds fluffing their way across the sky.
White is the color of angel's wings and Angel's wings.
White is the color of brand-new ankle socks fresh out of the bag.
White is the color of crisp sheets in schmancy hotels.
White is the color of every last freaking, gol-danged thing you see for endless miles and miles if you happen to be in Antarctica trying to save the world, which now you aren't so sure you can do because you feel like if you see any more whiteness-Wonder Bread, someone's underwear, teeth-you will completely and totally lose your ever-lovin' mind and wind up pushing a grocery cart full of empty cans around New York City, muttering to yourself.
That was my first poem ever.
Okay, so it's not Shakespeare, but I liked it. — James Patterson

See? Small steps. Just take it one thing at a time and you'll be fine. Angel, I'm not going to hurt you. You know that, right? Can you nod for me? Breathe a little? Tender humor mixed with the concern in his face could undo her. And give her reassurance. She was rather amazed at the combination. — Joey W. Hill

Don't take anything personally. Even when a situation seems so personal, even if others insult you directly, it has nothing to do with you. Their point of view and opinion come from all the programming they received growing up. When you take things personally, you feel offended and your reaction is to defend your beliefs and create conflict. You make something big out of something so little because you have the need to be right and make everybody else wrong. — Miguel Angel Ruiz

Crying for Bones, for his little pretend Reginald and even for X. X was Bones. Bones was X. Bones was Reginald. Her poor sweet angel. Shattered. Just like X had said. She — Lucian Bane

There is one kind of laugh that I always did recommend; it looks out of the eye first with a merry twinkle, then it creeps down on its hands and knees and plays around the mouth like a pretty moth around the blaze of a candle, then it steals over into the dimples of the cheeks and rides around in those whirlpools for a while, then it lights up the whole face like the mellow bloom on a damask rose, then it swims up on the air, with a peal as clear and as happy as a dinner-bell, then it goes back again on gold tiptoes like an angel out for an airing, and it lies down on its little bed of violets in the heart where it came from. — Josh Billings

But when I was a little girl, my mom always told me to be nice to everybody, no matter what they looked like or how they treated me, because I never knew who might be an angel God had sent to Earth in disguise. — Jennifer Echols

I flash a fake smile of my own, refraining from telling her what I'm really thinking: that it's an unwise karmic move to go around feeling superior to other mothers. Because before she knows it, her little angel could become a tattooed teenager hiding joints in her designer handbag and doling out blow jobs in the backseat of her BMW. — Emily Giffin

The angel in my head talks to me. He's a little Sherlock Holmes, which, I guess makes me Dr. Watson. I'm not wild about that. Better that he's Starsky and I'm Hutch. At least I get a cool car that way. — Richard Kadrey

The Angel Of Almost Then I was somewhere else, and it was bright. A voice said "If you'd carried on practicing that song you almost got right, you would've been great. Bigger than the Beatles." It continued "If you'd carried on working on that book you almost finished, it would've changed the lives of many, many people." Then it said "If you'd tried to reach the one you loved just a little bit more, when you almost had them, your life would've been completely different." And I asked "Is this what happens when I die?" And the voice said "Almost. — Pleasefindthis

If Heaven is willing to sing to us, it is little to ask that we be ready to listen. — Nancy Gibbs

The artist is a servant who is willing to be a birthgiver. In a very real sense the artist (male or female) should be like Mary who, when the angel told her that she was to bear the Messiah, was obedient to the command.
... I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small, comes to the artist and says, "Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me." And the artist either says, "My soul doth magnify the Lord," and willingly becomes the bearer of teh work, or refuses; but the obedient response is not necessarily a conscious one, and not everyone has the humble, courageous obedience of Mary.
As for Mary, she was little more than a child when the angel came to her; she had not lost her child's creative acceptance of the realities moving on the other side of the everyday world. We lose our ability to see angels as we grow older, and that is a tragic loss. — Madeleine L'Engle

Mr. Worthington,
I understand that you do not control Chuck and Jasper.
But you see, I am in a similar situation. I do not control the little devil sitting on my left shoulder. The devil is saying, "PRINT THE PICTURE PRINT THE PICTURE TAPE IT UP ALL OVER SCHOOL DO IT DO IT DO IT." And then on my right shoulder, there is a little tiny white angel. And the angel is saying, "Man, I sure as shit hope all those freshmen get their money bright and early on Monday morning." So do I, little angel. So do I.
Best Wishes,
Your friendly Neighboorhood Nemesis. — John Green

He tries to get close to her because he wants to know what her glow feels like. She's alone on the dance floor and even though she's dancing, there's a kind of sadness lurking about her, like her heart is somewhere else. Roman doesn't think he has ever seen a woman look this beautiful. It's not just her halo either. Even in that one brief moment Roman feels it. He feels her become a part of his life. Her halo is glowing a little less bright now, and Roman doesn't know why. But he wants to find out. — Sam Hunter

We can all be angels to one another. We can choose to obey the still small stirring within, the little whisper that says, Go. Ask. Reach out. Be an answer to someone's plea. You have a part to play. Have faith. — Joan Anderson

I just live my life how I live as a person. I certainly am not, like, a saint or an angel by any means. I'm not anything like that. But I live just how I live. I mean, I have a little paranoia, but that's about it. — Emma Stone

Over the years, I've found myself wishing sometimes my angel would show up. I could use a little uplift, a little reminder. — Roma Downey

Any other town you go to there's this little devil and a little angel on your shoulder. A little good advice, a little bad advice.You go to Las Vegas, there's like a devil and a devil and they're just battling it out the whole time. It's like, "Smoke some crack!" "Get a hooker!" And then I go, "YEA! Yea, this is a good town. Smoke some crack and get a hooker! Alright! — Bill Burr

Dear Sir, I'll gie ye some advice,
You'll tak it no uncivil:
You shouldna paint at angels, man,
But try and paint the Devil.

To paint an angel's kittle wark,
Wi' Nick there's little danger;
You'll easy draw a lang-kent face,
But no sae weel a stranger. — Robert Burns

He cracked a slight smile, but it didn't look amused. I'm not letting you out of my sight. You're looking a little deranged, Angel. We'll go together. — Becca Fitzpatrick

I'm leaving." Her cold lips barely moved as she mouthed the words.
Horror fisted around his vitals. "No."
For the first time she met his eyes. Hers were red-rimmed but dry. "I have to leave,
Simon."
"No." He was a little boy denied a sweet. He felt like falling down and screaming.
"Let me go."
"I can't let you go." He half laughed here in the too-bright, cold London sun before his own
house. "I'll die if I do."
She closed her eyes. "No, you won't. I can't stay and watch you tear yourself apart."
"Lucy."
"Let me go, Simon. Please." She opened her eyes, and he saw infinite pain in her gaze.
Had he done this to his angel? Oh, God. He unclasped his hands. — Elizabeth Hoyt

I'm all for a little rough foreplay,' he said huskily, 'but don't you think knocking me out defeats the purpose? Unless you're into the seriously kinky shit ... Is that it, angel? You like it kinky?' His tone was pure mischief. 'You know I could have you on your back in a heartbeat, and I wouldn't even break a sweat?' he said. 'Why don't you then?' she challenged. 'Oh I'm going nowhere,' he smirked. 'I like the view from where I am. Just. Fine. — Jess Raven

On the first day of fifth grade, Liz was sitting on the swing beside Liam's at recess. Falling and flying, her hair fanned out behind her and her eyes were closed, and that was what had caught his attention, her closed eyes. She looked a little bit silly and very much alive, and Liam couldn't stop watching.

Liz, on her part, was aware that the boy beside her was watching, but she loved swinging too much to care what he thought. She loved the wind hitting her face and the brief moment of suspension at the top of the arc and the falling sensation that was magnified by the darkness of her eyelids. She imagined that she was a bird, an angel, a wayward star.

At the height of the arc, she let go. And she flew.

Liam watched with his mouth hanging wide open, expecting her to crumple on the asphalt and die tragically before his eyes.

She didn't, and when she walked away, Liam's heart followed. — Amy Zhang

Poor William!" said he, "dear lovely child, he now sleeps with his angel mother! Who that had seen him bright and joyous in his young beauty, but must weep over his untimely loss! To die so miserably; to feel the murderer's grasp! How much more a murderer, that could destroy such radiant innocence! Poor little fellow! one only consolation have we; his friends mourn and weep, but he is at rest. The pang is over, his sufferings are at an end for ever. A sod covers his gentle form, and he knows no pain. He can no longer be a subject for pity; we must reserve that for his miserable survivors. — Mary Shelley

This moment, this being, is the thing. My life is all life in little. The moon, the planets, pass around my heart. The sun, now hidden by the round bulk of this earth, shines into me, and in me as well. The gods and the angels both good and bad are like the hairs of my own head, seemingly numberless, and growing from within. I people the cosmos from myself, it seems, yet what am I? A puff of dust, or a brief coughing spell, with emptiness and silence to follow. — Alexander Eliot

She hadn't planned any of this, but her thoughts ran away with her, and she hated how pathetic she must sound. Poor little human needed the big bad angel to rescue her. Yuck. — India Drummond

Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was as golden as the sun's rays, and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her red shoes and her fiddle, but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music. — Gaston Leroux

That will be your married look, I, as a Christian, will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander. But what had you to ask, thing, - out with it?" "There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery. I had rather be a thing than an angel. This is what I have to ask, - Why did you take such pains to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?" "Is that all? Thank God it is no worse!" And now he unknit his black brows; looked down, smiling at me, and stroked my hair, as if well pleased at seeing a danger averted. "I think I may confess," he continued, "even although I should make you a little indignant, Jane - and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are indignant. You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal. Janet, by-the-bye, it was you who made me the offer. — Charlotte Bronte

Bree arched, trying to stretch out her muscles and Alessandro gave her a dirty look as if she was displaying herself to him on purpose. Well, maybe she was a little. Even though he blocked her from the hotel attendant's gaze with his body in the doorway, Bree was sure to cover herself with the blanket. Alessandro turned around, pulling in the tray with him and his eyes flared hungrily as he looked down at her. "You look like a beautiful debauched angel," he said, his voice rough with desire. "And you're what, the demon that's corrupted me?" Bree asked raising an eyebrow and letting the blanket fall down to her waist, baring her to him. "It's my life's work, you know?" Alessandro grinned, going down on to his knees and leaning over her. Bree placed a hand on his chest, halting him. "Is that coffee, I smell?" she asked. "The debauched angel is kind of hungry." She bit her lip and smiled up at his frustrated face. — E. Jamie

In the immortal children's Christmas pantomime Peter Pan, there comes a climactic moment when the little angel Tinkerbell seems to be dying. The glowing light that represents her on the stage begins to dim, and there is only one possible way to save the dire situation. An actor steps up to the front of the house and asks all the children, "Do you believe in fairies?" If they keep confidently answering "YES!" then the tiny light will start to brighten again. Who can object to this ? One wants not to spoil children's belief in magic - there will be plenty of time later for disillusionment - and nobody is waiting at the exit asking them hoarsely to contribute their piggy banks to the Tinkerbell Salvation Church. — Christopher Hitchens

He caught her by
the shoulders and gave her a hard little shake. "Do you think you're so charming in that silly little nightdress that I can't resist tumbling you? Do you think I have no pride when it comes to you?"
"B-b-but I - "
"Well, you're right," he shouted. "I don't!"
With that, his lips came down on hers — Teresa Medeiros

As each Sister is to become a Co-Worker of Christ in the slums, each ought to understand what God and the Missionaries of Charity expect from her. Let Christ radiate and live his life in her and through her in the slums. Let the poor, seeing her, be drawn to Christ and invite him to enter their homes and their lives. Let the sick and suffering find in her a real angel of comfort and consolation. Let the little ones of the streets cling to her because she reminds them of him, the friend of the little ones. — Mother Teresa

The trouble with you, dear, is that you think an angel of the Lord as a creature with wings, whereas he is probably a scruffy little man with a bowler hat. — Josephine Tey

The child chattered like a little magpie, and Angel nodded and listened. Glancing up, Angel encountered Michael's gaze. He wants children, she thought, and the thought hit her solid in the pit of her stomach. What if he knew she couldn't have them? Would his love for her die then? She couldn't hold his gaze. — Francine Rivers

And then he smiled at me, and he was Jeremiah again. Susannah's boy, sunshine and smiles. Her little angel. — Jenny Han

Jumped in the river, what did I see? Black-eyed angels swam with me A moonful of stars and astral cars And all the figures I used to see All my lovers were there with me All my past and futures And we all went to heaven in a little row boat There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt — Thom Yorke

Sin as little as possible - that is the law of mankind. Not to sin at all is the dream of the angel. All earthly tings are subject to sin. Sin is like gravity. — Victor Hugo

It was love that motivated His self-emptying, that led Him to become a little lower than angels, to be subject to parents, to bow His head beneath the Baptist's hands, to endure the weakness of the flesh, and to submit to death even upon the cross — Bernard Of Clairvaux

Her sweet little cry like that of angel among demons — James Dashner

When your mom noticed me watching a Buffy rerun on the little TV on the doorman desk one slow night on the job, she admitted that watching Buffy was her shared solace with you after your dad left. She told me how you cry and cry for Buffy. You cry when Angel shows up to be Buffy's prom date even though they'd already recognized the futility of their true love and broken up. You cry when Buffy's mom is taken away by natural instead of supernatural causes. You cry when seasons six and seven really don't reflect the quality of seasons one through five except for the musical episode. — Rachel Cohn

Hold everything. I missed a four-way chick fight. Then I find out someone's been nibbling." William's attention shifted to Olivia, who was still lying on the floor. "Please tell me our sweet little angel is the biter. It'll make me want her ever so much more. — Gena Showalter

Have you ever looked inside one of those things [computers]? It's a whole hierarchy of angels- all on slats. And those little tubes-those are miracles. — Joseph Campbell

My first [wife] was an angel; My second a silly woman; My third a Roman Senator; My fourth a pretty little thing; My fifth - all woman! — Nat C. Goodwin

Sonny and another Hells Angel who was at the meeting thought they were beyond a little patch so they headed down to a local tattoo shop in Oakland and were the first to get the famous One Percent tattoos. — Chuck Zito

What, are you doing? Aside from getting your sandwich cold." "I'm making a snow angel. Don't you know what that is?" "Yes, I know. But why? You must be freezing." "Not so much, actually. My face is a little, I guess. — Richelle Mead

If I'd ever taken the time to wonder about my soul being as black as this town seemed to believe, I knew the moment Ashton stepped out of her little white Jetta looking like an angel from Heaven that my soul was damned to Hell. — Abbi Glines

My mother, daroga, my poor, unhappy mother would never ... let me kiss her ... She used to run away ... and throw me my mask! ... Nor any other woman ... ever, ever! ... Ah, you can understand, my happiness was so great, I cried. And fell at her feet, crying ... and I kissed her feet ... her little feet ... crying. You're crying, too, daroga ... and she cried also ... the angel cried! ... — Gaston Leroux

I am sure I loved that baby quite as truly, quite as tenderly, with greater purity and more disinterestedness, than can enter into the best love of a later time of life, high and ennobling as it is. I am sure my fancy raised up something round that blue-eyed mite of a child, which etherealised, and made a very angel of her. If, any sunny forenoon, she had spread a little pair of wings, and flown away before my eyes, I don't think I should have regarded it as much more than I had had reason to expect. — Charles Dickens

Everyone has an angel, a guardian who watches over us. We can't know what form they'll take. One day old man, next day little girl. But don't let appearances fool you, they can be as fierce as any dragon. Yet they are not here to fight are battles, but to whisper from a hearth. Reminding that it's us ... it's everyone of us who holds the power of the worlds we create. — Zack Snyder

I just don't want people to think I'm too sweet of a boy; and little miss angel boy, because I'm going to get caught doing somebody horrible. — Michael Buble

Because there's no reason to think Paige had to eat anything. Paige is not a low demon. She's a little girl. A vegetarian. A born humanitarian. A budding Dalai Lama, for chrissake. She only attacked the angel to defend me. That's all.
Besides, she didn't eat him, she just ... gnawed on him a little. — Susan Ee

I have more dumb luck thank anybody I know. There must be a convey of guardian angels working twenty-four hours a day looking after me[ ... ] Like the night I first got to Nashville that I laid down in the middle of Broadway, waiting to get run over. It didn't happen [ ... ] I could swear they were keeping me alive just to see what I'd get next, I'm glad they feel that way. I'm trying to help them a little more this days. — Willie Nelson

And the City, in its own way, gets down for you, cooperates, smoothing its sidewalks, correcting its curbstones, offering you melons and green apples on the corner. Racks of yellow head scarves; strings of Egyptian beads. Kansas fried chicken and something with raisins call attention to an open window where the aroma seems to lurk. And if that's not enough, doors to speakeasies stand ajar and in that cool dark place a clarinet coughs and clears its throat waiting for the woman to decide on the key. She makes up her mind and as you pass by informs your back that she is daddy's little angel child. The City is smart at this: smelling and good and looking raunchy; sending secret messages disguised as public signs: this way, open here, danger to let colored only single men on sale woman wanted private room stop dog on premises absolutely no money down fresh chicken free delivery fast. And good at opening locks, dimming stairways. Covering your moans with its own. — Toni Morrison

A sage's tongue is a little less than a prophet's;
a prophet's tongue is a little less than an angel's. — Matshona Dhliwayo

Nonsense. Hardly touched a drop. That much." She held out two fingers to show how tiny an amount "that much" was.
"Just went to a party," said Richard, "and saw Jessica and saw a real angel and got a little black pig and came back here."
"Just a little drink," continued Door, intently. "Old, old, drink. Tiiiiny little drink. Very small. Almost not there." She began to hiccup. — Neil Gaiman

No. She wasn't being evil; she was being a little angel. Maybe a fallen angel, but an angel none the less. — Lacey Harper

'Empire of Self' is a loving portrait of a very difficult man. Jay Parini, himself a gifted novelist, poet and biographer, has gone very deep into the 'black energy' of Gore Vidal's relentless narcissism and megalomania. Parini envisions an epic battle between Vidal's angelic and demonic sides, yet there's very little of the angel in Vidal. — Jerome Charyn

I want to see the front of you."
"That's what all the girls say."
"Do you expect me to roll you over? 'Cuz I will."
"Your mate's not going to like this."
"As if that's going to bother you?"
"True. It actually makes it worth the effort."
With a groan, he shoved his palms into the shimmering silver pool of blood beneath him, and flopped over like the side of beef he was.
"Wow," she breathed.
"I know, right? Hung like a horse."
"If you're really nice - and you live through this - I'll promise not to tell V."
"About my size."
She laughed a little. "No, that you assumed I'd look at you in any fashion other than professionally. — J.R. Ward

How're the cats?" he asked, smiling a little. He did miss Angel Marie. Hell, he missed them all.
"Feral," Benny sniffed. "And horny. Every time one of us walks in, they all start humping our shoes."
"They're fixed," Shane mumbled, but the conversation was oddly reassuring. It sounded normal, and like home.
"Tell that to the big fuzzy brown one ... ."
"Orlando Bloom?"
"Yeah, whatever. Last time I was there that damned animal violated my knitting."
Shane lost a battle with a laugh and then whined because it hurt his ribs.
"Violated?"
[ ... ]
"Let's just say that wool is no longer virgin," she quipped dryly, and Shane's chest shook. — Amy Lane

Michael is the warrior angel, standing in the gap for the hosts of God."

His face softened with something she knew - she knew - was powerful emotion. Like her, he couldn't always express it.

"In that little scenario, are you God then?"

She giggled at his dry, fond tone, but her voice broke as she admitted, "No. God would never have been as scared as I was."

"I would never have let anything happen to you."

"I know that. I was scared for you. — Noelle Adams

Dangerous as a lightning strike, as lethal as a pair of crisscrossing short swords, William whispered, "You're about to find out how your liver tastes, my friend."
"I have tasted it already," Zacharel said, his voice its usual monotone. The snowflakes began to fall in earnest, tiny at first, but growing in diameter. An arctic wind blustered around him. "It was a bit salty."
How the hell was a guy supposed to respond to that?
Apparently William didn't know, either, because he gaped at the angel. Then, "Maybe if you added a little pepper?"
O-kay. It was official. William had an answer for everything. — Gena Showalter

Rolling onto his side, Jamie reached out and touched Evan's chest, two fingertips only tracing the curve of his pectoral and threading through the dark, curly hair. Something about that hairiness fascinated him, masculine yet soft. An unaccountable shyness wrapped around him, a weight upon his shoulders. His fingers trembled a little. "You'll, um, tell me if I do it wrong?"
Evan laughed softly, "Angel, there is no wrong. Go ahead and explore. If I don't like something, I'll tell you, 'kay? — Finn Marlowe