Sahika Tekant Quotes & Sayings

Must excuse him - he should have to go back to the club. He would return in half an hour - or in less. He walked — Henry James

To answer your question, yes, you may kiss my ass. Normally I prefer to maintain my personal space, but you're a Friend of the Pack and your services have proven useful once or twice. I strive to accommodate the wishes of persons friendly to my people. My only question is, would your kissing my ass be obeisance, grooming, or foreplay?"

"You didn't answer my question," Curran said. "What will it be?"
"No," I said.
Curran grinned and my heart made a little jump. I didn't expect that.
"That's it? That's your witty comeback? — Ilona Andrews

Whenever I doubted myself, my dad would say, 'Grab that dream by the hands, Gwennie. Clutch until the knuckles go white.'" "Whose dream?" "It doesn't matter whose dream it is," she said. "Just that it's a dream. — Megan Abbott

My fear is dying badly, through illness or injury. But what a glorious demise it would be to burn up in space. — William Shatner

You see but your shadow when you turn your back to the sun. — Kahlil Gibran

Are you sure the two of you aren't married? (Bavel)
Why do you ask? (Ewan)
You can barely stand to speak to each other, and yet when the lady walks off you look as if you can already taste her. Smacks of marriage to me. (Bavel) — Kinley MacGregor

car are more important than my health." When you tell yourself — Shannon Sorrels

Tell me again why I have a beaten up Noah on my futon?" Ava said. She indeed had a beaten-up Noah resting on her couch, bandages and gauze over his nose, an icepack on his brow.
Wiz, Hal, and Travis sat around him, cups of coffee and homemade croissants steaming on the table. Ava stood with her hands on her hips, her brow expressing a pressing need for answers.
"I got beaten up," Noah said, sounding like he had the worst head cold in history. — Daniel Younger

Battered by shifing currents and a cold, unrelenting wind, we sailed past deserted islands crowded with pines and a ghost tree growing staight out of the water, its gaunt trunk and scrawny branches raised heavenward like an outcast pleading for his life. Now, having reached the north shore, we were doggedly searching for the hidden rivulet that would take us into The Peak. We were trapped in muddy water barbed with grasses and covered with thick green algae, which broke apart in clumps, then, after we'd edged through, resealed, erasing all signs of our passing.

The wind had dissipated - strange, as it'd been so turbulent minutes ago out on the lake. Dense trees surrounded us, packed like hordes of stranded prisoners. There wasn't a single bird, not a scuttle through the branches, not a cry - as if everything alive had fled. — Marisha Pessl

Spreading Christianity abroad is sometimes an excuse for not having it at home. — Henry Ward Beecher