Nora And Jev Quotes & Sayings

The eyes might be the windows to the soul, but a man's hips were his seat of power. — Tiffany Reisz

Hmm?' I looked away, flustered automatically using irritation to cover my discomfort up. 'What does 'hmm' have to do with anything? Could you ever use more that five words? All this grunting and minced words make you come across
primal.'
His smile tipped higher. 'Primal.'
'You're impossible.'
'Me Jev, you Nora.'
-Nora & Patch (PG 226) — Becca Fitzpatrick

Dante said, "I tried talking Nora into a ride, but she keeps blowing me off."
"That's because she has a hard-A boyfriend. He must have been
homeschooled, because he missed all those valuable lessons we learned in kindergarten, like sharing. He finds out you took Nora for a ride, he'll wrap this shiny new Porsche around the nearest tree. — Becca Fitzpatrick

What does 'hmm' have to do with anything? Could you ever use more than five words? All this grunting and minced words make you come across - primal."

His smile tipped higher. "Primal."

"You're impossible."

"Me Jev, you Nora. — Becca Fitzpatrick

I couldn't escape him, now or ever. He'd always be there, consuming my every thought, my heart locked in his hands. I was drawn to him by forces I couldn't control, let alone escape. — Becca Fitzpatrick

If I know anything about women, I know they're not going to accept infidelity any way you serve it up. I don't care what they say. No one wants the one they love running around on 'em, — Jack Dancer

I don't want those things from you. I love your faults and imperfections. Your kind heart. The scars that match mine, and the struggles to find ourselves. I want your humanness. Nothing else. — A.G. Howard

Jev stroked his chin. Do I look like a summer fling? — Becca Fitzpatrick

I don't have the body for this," I quipped, lifting my chin to a voluptous woman nearby who shook her hips zealously to the beat. "No curves."
Jev's eyes held mine. "Are you asking my opinion? — Becca Fitzpatrick

The love of our neighbor is the only door out of the dungeon of self, where we mope and mow, striking sparks, and rubbing phosphorescences out of the walls, and blowing our own breath in our own nostrils, instead of issuing to the fair sunlight of God, the sweet winds of the universe. — George MacDonald

I'm still unsure as to what draws people together, that is, beyond the really ugly things: money, beauty, family, desperation. But I suppose that if someone can make you feel like you are seeing a new world, or just an old one of the first time, you might decide that you love to be around them. — Dana Vachon

Patch reached for my hand and pushed my dad's ring off the tip of his finger and into my palm, curling my fingers around it. He kissed my knuckles. "I was going to give this back earlier, but it wasn't finished."
I opened my palm and held the ring up. The same heart was engraved on the underside, but now there were two names carved on either side of it: NORA and JEV.
I looked up. "Jev? That's your real name?"
"Nobody's called me that in a long time. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Me Jev, you Nora. — Becca Fitzpatrick

He grinned. "Busted. I'm a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless - and shockingly handsome - alter ego."
"And I'm on top of it," she announced with witty triumph.
"Is that a Freudian slip?"
His bluntness caught her off guard. A self-conscious blush rose in her face. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Since we're keeping it primal, you smell good," he observed.
"It's called a shower ... ," I began automatically, then trailed off. My memory snagged, taken aback by a compelling and forceful sense of undue familiarity. "Soap, shampoo, hot water," I added, almost as an afterthought.
"Naked. I know the drill," Jev said, something unreadeble passing over his eyes. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Above the altar is suspended the horrifically detailed model of a dying man, who, like the stained-glass version of his mother during The Annunciation, is wearing an expression too serene for such surprising circumstance. Jesus looks like he's thinking, Well, here I am, nailed to some wood. — Mark Crutchfield