Martise Quotes & Sayings

He loved her to the point of madness, to obsession and even sacrifice. He wasn't Berdikhan, and he wouldn't make her Zafira. He'd rob her of her Gift, but she'd live. If he had to destroy Corruption, Conclave and himself, she'd live. — Grace Draven

My wife can't cook at all. She made chocolate mousse. An antler got stuck in my throat. — Rodney Dangerfield

On a snowy winter morning, Martise of Neith - once of Asher - opened a gate and awakened darkness. — Grace Draven

The gelding held still when he took the reins, swung nimbly onto the horse's wide back and patted its withers. "You've grown fat on plains grass, Gnat. This journey will do you good."

Martise's eyes widened. "Gnat? His name is Gnat?" She stared at the mountain of horseflesh, heavily muscled and big-boned, with a girth that would make riding astride a challenge, and he stood at least seventeen hands high.

Gnat swung his large head in her direction, as if questioning her incredulity. Silhara stared down his nose, the expression made even more imperious by his high seat on the horse's back. "I didn't think 'Butterfly' suitable."

A betraying flutter rose in her throat. "No," she said, eyes tearing with the effort to hold in her laughter. "I suppose not. — Grace Draven

Because you simply cannot draw these things out forever. At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid and it hurts, but then it's over
and you're relieved. — John Green

You have done an unwise thing, Martise of Asher," he said softly. "You've caught my interest. — Grace Draven

I am nothing but words, just a shape of dreams or night — Euripides

His eyes, usually as black and hard as obsidian were softer now, with the sheen of a crow's wing in sunlight. "You love me anyway," she teased.
"That's true," he said softly.
"Your weakness," she replied in equally quiet tones.
"No. My strength." They made love, this time without the power of their combined Gifts flowing hot between them, yet Martise would argue with anyone that its absence made no difference. There was sorcery aplenty in loving the one you held most dear. — Grace Draven

Martise, lower your knife. There are more than a few people eager to carve out my heart. You'll have to take your place in line. — Grace Draven

Come in, Martise." Silhara's voice was almost sibilant in the darkness as he tagged on her hand. "There are no soul eaters here."

No, she thought. Only heart thieves. — Grace Draven

As soon as one point is removed from the sphere of dogmatic certainty, the discussion may not simply result in a new and better formulation, but may easily lead to endless debates and general confusion. — Adolf Hitler

I don't need you on your back for anything Martise, unless you want to go star-gazing with me. — Grace Draven

Gold is good in it's place, but living, brave, patriotic men are better than gold. — Abraham Lincoln

You cannot but learn more of the world's heft, as you take it now into your hands. — John Updike

Anyone can make a baby, but it takes a man to be a father. — Ta-Nehisi Coates

He snagged two more pieces of wood from her load for good measure. "Martise, bearing children is woman's work. Gurn and I would be sitting in the dark every night if we waited for some wandering female to pick up sticks for us. — Grace Draven

And will you love me for a day? A year? A lifetime?" She knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it in that beautiful, shattered voice.
"Beyond that," he whispered, eyes shining with the tempest of emotion he'd held in check until now. "Beyond the reign of false gods and meddlesome priests. Beyond al Zafira when her bright stars fade. — Grace Draven

We do care about control and privacy. It's one of the reasons we are so focused on having our systems be open source, so you or someone technically savvy you know can verify what the software is doing. — Mitchell Baker

Find your bed, Martise. I'll be up for some time. This is bandit country, and we'll each take a watch. Put your blankets with mine. We'll stay warmer that way. And keep your shoes on. I'll join you soon." She'd grown used to him curled against her in sleep. Even the light snores purred into her ear comforted her, and there was always the possibility that when he awakened, he'd want her beneath him. Or atop him. Martise blushed at the sensual images playing in her mind. She prepared their bed as he instructed, crawled under the blankets - with her shoes on - and fell asleep. She woke when Silhara slid beneath the blankets and spooned against her. He laid his arm across her waist and wedged his leg between hers through her heavy skirts. His sigh tickled her ear. "Far better if you were bare, but this will do. — Grace Draven

Martise blushed and lowered her eyes. "I meant no offense."

"Ah, another way to apologize. You have an impressive arsenal of conciliatory statements. I've known slaves less contrite than you. — Grace Draven

Once his hair was smooth and free of mats, Martise ran the comb through it for sheer pleasure. He had beautiful hair, straight and black and falling to his waist. It spread across a strong back and wide shoulders, dampening his shirt to a transparent thinness. She slid her hand under its weight and caressed his nape with light strokes of the comb. His shoulders slumped, and he lowered his head in mute invitation for her to continue. He breathed deep, relaxing under her touch. Martise was anything but relaxed. She was on fire, recalling those moments in the library when he'd given her a taste of the passion burning within him. He was her dreams manifested, a bright and volatile star in a winter sky. — Grace Draven

She wasn't sure if he wanted more from her or if he wanted less. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was always both. — Ann Brashares

It's not at all uncommon to find a person's desires compelling him to go against his reason, and to see him cursing himself and venting his passion on the source of the compulsion within him. It's as if there were two warring factions, with passion fighting on the side of reason. But I'm sure you won't claim that you had ever, in yourself or in anyone else, met a case of passion siding with his desires against the rational mind, when the rational mind prohibits resistance. — Plato

He broke the kiss. "Say my name, Martise." He snarled the command, but she wasn't afraid. His hips rocked against hers, and she was impaled on his cock, reveling in his fierce possession. For a few brief hours, he was as much hers as she was his, and she could tell him how much he meant to her in a softly spoken name. Every desire, every craving, every forbidden wish - she infused into her voice. "Silhara." He gasped, a tortured sound, and his eyes rolled back. Martise clutched him to her as he shuddered, felt the sudden pulse of his shaft, his release followed by a wet heat as he came inside her. He hunched over her, chest heaving as he strove to breathe. She clasped his hips with her legs to maintain their connection, reluctant to give him up. He slowly lowered his weight onto her, careful not to crush her. — Grace Draven