She Rises Quotes & Sayings

When I lift her, she wraps her legs around me and I carry her to an oversized chair. I fall back onto it and giver her bum a good slap, making her scream, "Hey!"
I hush her complaint with another kiss, and pull her hips down against mine until she lets her head fall back and sinks into my lap perfectly.
It's still our wedding night. She's all mine until the sun rises and it's time to release her back into the world. Until then, let the celebration continue. — Wendy Higgins

And where do I go? Where on Earth does a person go when she realizes there's no place for her? You can't possibly try to fit in, because if you do, if you manage to carve out some beautiful niche of happiness for yourself, then one day it will be taken from you as surely and truly as the sun rises each morning. — Kelly Thompson

And suddenly she began to sing. Keen, heart-piercing was her song as the song of the lark that rises from the gates of night and pours its voice among the dying stars, seeing the sun behind the walls of the world — J.R.R. Tolkien

Her voice was polished with a hint of a New England-boarding-school accent that shouted refinement over geographic locale. I was trying not to stare. She saw that and smiled a little. I don't want to sound like some kind of pervert because it wasn't like that. Femal beauty gets to me. I don't think I'm alone in that. It gets to me like a work of art gets to me. It gets to me like a Rembrandt or Michelangelo. It gets to me like night views of Paris or when the sun rises on the Grand Canyon or sets in the turquoise Arizona sky. My thoughts were not illicit. Ther were, I self-rationalized, rather artistic. — Harlan Coben

Perhaps she would finally ask him what the devil the Central Registry was up to going to so much trouble over one person, a woman of no importance, it would be an indecent lie, as well as arrant stupidity, to tell her that we are all equal in the eyes of the Central Registry, just as the sun is there for everyone each time it rises, there are things one should avoid saying to an older person if we don't want them to laugh in our faces. — Jose Saramago

Women are so often segregated to their sexuality, and how they appear. In fact, there's a lot of talk, even now, I think in most jobs this is true ... people will say, when a woman rises to power, they ask, 'who did she sleep with?' You know, it couldn't possibly be about her acumen, it couldn't possibly be about her intelligence. It's got to be about her body, because that's how women get ahead. — Jennifer Beals

Man pays deference to woman instinctively, involuntarily, not because she is beautiful or truthful or wise or foolish or proper, but because she is a woman, and he cannot help it. If she descends, he will lower to her level; if she rises, he will rise to her height. — Mary Abigail Dodge

Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows. Man lies in the woman's womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this fusion, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle, into art. He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in amniotic fluid gives him energy, completion. Woman may be busy too, but she feels empty. Sensuality for her is not only a wave of pleasure in which she is bathed, and a charge of electric joy at contact with another. When man lies in her womb, she is fulfilled, each act of love a taking of man within her, an act of birth and rebirth, of child rearing and man bearing. Man lies in her womb and is reborn each time anew with a desire to act, to be. But for woman, the climax is not in the birth, but in the moment man rests inside of her. — Anais Nin

Every morning the gazelle wakes up knowing she must run faster than the lion or will be dead. Every morning the lion wakes up knowing he must run faster than the gazelle or he'll starve. It doesn't matter if you are a lion or a gazelle: when the sun rises you better start to run. — Mia Couto

In San Francisco - life goes on. Hope rises and dreams flicker and die. Love plans for tomorrow and loneliness thinks of yesterday. Life is beautiful and living is pain. The sound of music floats down a dark street. A young girl looks out a window and wishes she were married. A drunk sleeps under a bridge. It is tomorrow. — Hunter S. Thompson

It's a trick question, Aquilla. A Mask is not made. She is remade. First she is destroyed. Stripped down to the trembling child that lives at her core. It doesn't matter how strong she thinks she is. Blackcliff diminishes, humiliates, and humbles her." "But if she survives, she is reborn. She rises from the shadow world of failure and despair so that she might become as fearful as that which destroyed her. So that she might know darkness and use it as her scim and shield in her mission to serve the Empire. — Sabaa Tahir

Gloire de Dijon
When she rises in the morning
I linger to watch her;
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window
And the sunbeams catch her
Glistening white on the shoulders,
While down her sides the mellow
Golden shadow glows as
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow
Gloire de Dijon roses.
She drips herself with water, and her shoulders
Glisten as silver, they crumple up
Like wet and falling roses, and I listen
For the sluicing of their rain-dishevelled petals.
In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses. — D.H. Lawrence

Your kundalini rises. She is your mother. She is your individual mother and she gives you the second birth. That's how you get connected to the Divine Paradise. — Nirmala Srivastava

Mass madness, if it's going to last more than a week or two, requires mass media or mass government or the synergistic efforts of both. It isn't just that the pretense that a man can marry a man will put religious believers at a disadvantage. It's that it must set that ordinary tribeswoman in its sights, regardless of her religion. It's not just her faith she must renounce. She must renounce her common sense. She must not be allowed even to think that the pretense is insane. She must be re-educated to believe that two fingers are three fingers, or that the sun rises in the west, or that the child in her womb is really a rock, or that excrement is nutritious, or anything else that no sensible person would ever come to discover on her own. — Anthony M. Esolen

No one rises above who he or she has been without first having fallen down. The best time - in fact, the only time - to make a real change in your life is in the moment of seeing the need for it. He who hesitates always gets lost in the hundred reasons why tomorrow is a better day to get started. — Guy Finley

Fire rises out of the lunar mountains: when she is cold, I'll carry her up to a peak, and lay her down on the edge of a crater. — Charlotte Bronte

Henry laughed and said, "Honey, the sun rises and sets with that Bill of hers. Everything he says is Gospel. She loves her man." "Is that what loving your man is?" "Has a lot to do with it." Jean Louise said, "You mean losing your own identity, don't you?" "In a way, yes," said Henry. "Then I doubt if I shall ever marry. I never met a man - " "You're gonna marry me, remember?" "Hank, I may as well tell you now and get it over with: I'm not going to marry you. Period and that's that. — Harper Lee

They were bound together by a tie which angels may not blush to approve. A man who can attach to him a woman however base in heart and corrupt in life, is not all bad. A woman who can maintain her trust, who can waste her money like water to stand by her friend, amid the darkest clouds that can gather, that woman cannot be all evil. And if in vice, and degradation, and pollution, and infamy, she rises so far above it all as to vindicate her original nature, I must confess that I honor this trait most of all. — Phillip Margulies

Hope is to a man as a bladder to a learning swimmer
it keeps him from sinking in the bosom of the waves, and by that help he may attain the exercise; but yet it many times makes him venture beyond his height, and then if that breaks, or a storm rises, he drowns without recovery. How many would die, did not hope sustain them! How many have died by hoping too much! This wonder we find in Hope, that she is both a flatterer and a true friend. — Owen Feltham

She's one of the fay folk; half of her is a woman, but she has the legs of a goat, except no one ever sees those for she hides them under her robes. She sleeps deep in the black pool while it's day, but at witch-light she rises in robes green as pond weed, glowing in the dark with her silver hair trailing behind her. She's so beautiful any man who glimpses her can't take his eyes off her. but that's just her witchery for inside she's really a withered old crone with a heart as black as a marsh pool. — Karen Maitland

See pills of every shape and size, Such fascinating colors, too - Some green, some pink, some brown, some blue. 'All right,' she says, 'let's try the brown.' She takes one pill and gulps it down. 'Yum-yum!' she cries. 'Hooray! What fun! They're chocolate-coated, every one!' She gobbles five, she gobbles ten, She stops her gobbling only when The last pill's gone. There are no more. Slowly she rises from the floor. She stops. She hiccups. Dear, oh dear, She starts to feel a trifle queer. You see, how could young Goldie know, For nobody had told her so, That Grandmama, her old relation Suffered from frightful constipation. This — Roald Dahl

Rook asked, "Did you really stab him with an icicle?"
When she nodded, he said, "Please tell me you said FREEZE."
Richard Castle
Heat Rises — Richard Castle

That's beautiful," she said.
He turned to her. "Would you like me to go take that violin for you? I'd gladly fight whatever angry mob rises up if it might make you smile."
Her heart just about burst at that. Be brave. "I would only want to play for you. — Alexandra Bracken

In English and Arabic. Clearly, even personal shoppers had him pegged as a complete geek. The shopper also managed to find some supplies for our magic bags - blocks of wax, twine, even some papyrus and ink - though I doubt Bes explained to her what they were for. After she left, Bes, Carter and I ordered more food from room service. We sat on the deck and watched the afternoon go by. The breeze from the Mediterranean was cool and pleasant. Modern Alexandria stretched out to our left - an odd mix of gleaming high-rises, shabby, crumbling buildings, and ancient ruins. The shoreline highway was dotted with palm trees and crowded with every sort of vehicle from BMWs to donkeys. From our penthouse suite, it all seemed a bit unreal - the raw energy of the city, the bustle and congestion below - while we sat on our veranda in the sky eating fresh fruit and the last melting bits of Lenin's head. — Rick Riordan

He was special friend to Coyote Kachina, who taught him the secret of shape shifting." "Grandfather blessed this earth with his presence for ninety-eight years. He had the courage to survive and left this world a better place than he found it. We shall all miss him." She blew a kiss at Grandfather. "Goodbye, Governor. You are my sun beneath the earth, my heart above the clouds, and my prayer for a better life. I will see you every morning when the sun rises. I shall miss you when the sun sets. I will yearn for you on a cloudy day. Do not forget me." She threw a silver locket with her picture into the grave. — Belinda Vasquez Garcia

Up from the dark the moon begins to creep; and now a pallid, haggard face lifts she above the water-line: thus from the deep a drowned body rises solemnly. — Thomas Bailey Aldrich

A Jesus girl who rises up and unexpectedly gives grace when she surely could have done otherwise reveals the power and the mystery of Christ at work - in her life and in the world. — Lysa TerKeurst

I have just drunk the waters of Changsha
And come to eat the fish of Wuchang.
Now I am swimming across the great Yangtze,
Looking afar to the open sky of Chu.
Let the wind blow and waves beat,
Better far than idly strolling in a courtyard.
Today I am at ease.
"It was by a stream that the Master said--
'Thus do things flow away!' "
Sails move with the wind.
Tortoise and Snake are still.
Great plans are afoot:
A bridge will fly to span the north and south,
Turning a deep chasm into a thoroughfare;
Walls of stone will stand upstream to the west
To hold back Wushan's clouds and rain
Till a smooth lake rises in the narrow gorges.
The mountain goddess if she is still there
Will marvel at a world so changed. — Mao Zedong

There is something incredibly beautiful about a woman, who knows herself, she can't break, she just falls but in every fall she rises, past who she was before. — Nikki Rowe

The feeling she has is most unexpected. The oddest thing. She feels no distress or worry. Instead, she senses a dim, faint feeling that rises from some unknown place in her heart, rising slowly and blossoming into something that she might call relief. — Janice Y.K. Lee

Chloe Bishop took an ax and gave Skanky Skyla forty whacks. And when she saw what she had done, she gave her family forty-one.
A tingle of fear rises through my spine as Chloe cackles her way into Ethan's bedroom.
Chloe Bishop is certifiably insane.
And dear God Almighty - I do believe she's going to kill us all. — Addison Moore

We sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes before she speaks. "You're right. There's more to it." I'm not sure if I should wait and let her speak, or if she's waiting for an acknowledgement. I slowly turn my head toward her and settle my eyes on hers. "I went through a rough time a few years ago. I wasn't sure things would get better for me. One day, Rick and Jo were able to knock some sense into me. When a Phoenix dies, it rises from its ashes to have a new life." Her eyes leave mine as she rolls to her back and stares at the stars. "The tattoo reminds me of that. One chapter of my life may end, but that doesn't mean a new chapter won't come from the ashes. It probably sounds silly to you. — Rein Scott

Andrea once told me that I had a problem processing emotional pain. I couldn't handle it, so I replaced it with physical pain instead: either I inflicted it on others or I suffered through it myself. Well, I had physical pain aplenty. If she was right, I should be floating on a cloud of bliss right about now. — Ilona Andrews

When the inky blackness above shades to a deep blue and the stars lose their hard edge and begin to seem unreal, she rises, wrapping the thin sheet about herself, and steps outside into the morning chill. — Leonard Pitts Jr.

S IS THE SOUND of the sea. Her surge and suck, her spray and surf. Sometimes she seethes. She knows the sound of smooth. With her s, the sea marries the shore, and then there is scamper and slush in the sand. With curling s's the sea rises to stroke the side of her superior, the sky, who loves and meets her in the s of spray, spawned in liquid and air. — Sena Jeter Naslund

We've all been near death more than once." He shook his head. "No one has ever been able to pinpoint the trigger."
"But?"
"But it is legend that ambrosia only rises when - "
She held her breath.
" - an archangel loves true."
The world stopped. The air particles seemed to still above her, the molecules suspended as she stared at the magnificence of the man who held her in his arms. "Maybe I was just biologically compatible." It came out a ragged whisper.
"Perhaps." The possession of lips against her neck. "We have eternity to discover the truth. And in that eternity, you will be mine. — Nalini Singh

Women are "hypergamous." This means they seek men of higher status than themselves. Even the most ardent heterosexual feminist only can love someone more powerful than she. Needless to say the higher she rises, the slimmer the pickings. — Henry Makow

They watched the turning colors of the sky until they faded to gray.
'Are the sunsets in Africa as beautiful?' Felicity asked.
He stirred. 'Hm? Oh. They're different. The heat rises from the ground in waves.' He motioned with his hand. 'The lower the sun gets, the more the horizon seems to ripple and move, like it's alive. It's mesmerizing.'
She freed her fingers and started back toward the house. 'I'm sorry all Cheshire sunsets have to offer are pretty colors.'
Rafe watched her retreating backside, tired of the tension between them, and tired of the way he couldn't mention anything farther away than Pelford without upsetting her - even when she lured him into the conversation, as though to test his interest. 'Lis, stop that.'
She turned and looked at him. 'Then stop preferring everywhere else in the world above Forton Hall.'
He narrowed his eyes. 'I will, if you'll stop preferring Forton Hall above all the rest of damned creation. — Suzanne Enoch

She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately
a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us an we in each other's arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks
a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die. — Henry Miller

Honey, the sun rises and sets with that Bill of hers. Everything he says is Gospel. She loves her man."
"Is that what loving your man is?"
"Has a lot to do with it."
Jean Louise said, "You mean losing your own identity, don't you?"
"In a way, yes," said Henry.
"Then I doubt if I shall ever marry. — Harper Lee

As she rises, she will have to reconcile herself." "Reconcile - ?" "The savage and the civil, — Eleanor Catton

Lapin breaks away from Broadway and picks a path toward Telegraph Hill. Her velocity is steady, even as the landscape rises underneath her; she's the little eccentric that could. — Robin Sloan

Above him Amy huffs. "They're only mammary glands." Bohdi tries to focus on the lock, but what he saw moments before rises to the forefront of his mind. "That's like saying the Mona Lisa is only a painting." She crosses her arms over her chest, even though it's sadly well concealed by his vest. "You've just been culturally sensitized to find mammary glands sexually appealing. — C. Gockel

The sky is a virginal blue translucence as though bereft for a fleeting moment of the effects of both light and darkness. A crimson streak smoulders over the outline of the hills, a simmering bloodline. There is a solitary canoe on the water. A cold white sheen rises from the water. She holds her breath. As if to stop any more time from passing, to stop the future happening. The peacefulness of the morning is almost heartbreaking in its fragility. — Glenn Haybittle

A rural Venus, Selah rises from the
gold foliage of the Sixhiboux River, sweeps
petals of water from her skin. At once,
clouds begin to sob for such beauty.
Clothing drops like leaves.
"No one makes poetry,my Mme.
Butterfly, my Carmen, in Whylah,"
I whisper. She smiles: "We'll shape it with
our souls."
Desire illuminates the dark manuscript
of our skin with beetles and butterflies.
After the lightning and rain has ceased,
after the lightning and rain of lovemaking
has ceased, Selah will dive again into the
sunflower-open river. — George Elliott Clarke

I do so enjoy having a viscount fall before me."
She started to remove her robe, but he stayed her with his hand. "Don't." He raked her with a heated glance. "Next session of parliament, I'll endure the boredom of the endless speeches by imagining you seducing me in all your pomp and circumstance."
"My pomp is nothing to yours, my love," she murmured as she caught his rampant flesh in her hand. "Yours is quite ... er ... pompous."
"That's what happens if the viscount falls." He thrust against her hand. "His pomp always rises."
And as she laughed, they created a pomp and circumstance all their own. — Sabrina Jeffries

She is waiting. Each spring the hard rains come and the creek rises and quickens, and more of the bank peels off, silting the water brown ad bringing to light another layer of dark earth, Decades pass. She is patient, shelled inside the blue tarp. Each spring the water laps closer, paling roots, loosening stones, scuffing and smoothing. She is waiting and one day a bit of blue appears in the bank and then more blue. The rain pauses and the sun appears but she is ready now and the bank trembles a moment and heaves the stands of tarp unfurl and she spills into the stream and is free. Bits of bone gather in an eddy, form a brief necklace. The current moves on toward the sea. — Ron Rash

She grabbed me in a hug so ferocious, the love reached clean to my bones. She kissed the top of my head. Truth is, you save me, child. You save me as sure as the sun rises. — Susan Crandall

Okay, I said, what's so hot about playing the piano?
She told me that the most important thing was to establish the tenderness right off the bat, or at least close to the top of the piece, just a hint of it, a whisper, but a deep whisper because the tension will mount, the excitement and the drama will build - I was writing it down as fast as I could - and when the action rises the audience might remember the earlier moment of tenderness, and remembering will make them long to return to infancy, to safety, to pure love, then you might move away from that, put the violence and agony of life into every note, building, building still, until there is an important decision to make: return to tenderness, even briefly, glancingly, or continue on with the truth, the violence, the pain, the tragedy, to the very end. — Miriam Toews

Sometimes I feel she hasn't left ... especially when I wear the photo charm necklace with her picture in it.
I can't tell you how many young men have stared into that picture and the reaction is always the same: a slow beam rises across their faces and they want to know all about her.
They become entranced the way Dana Andrews did when he first saw Gene Tierney's portrait in "Laura." I know Maria finds all of this quite amusing; why shouldn't she? 'Laura' is her middle name. — Pamela Palmer Mutino

No! Please no," she feels the cool metal
of the handcuffs again. "Please, I'm
Madison, I'm Madison!"
Her arms lock into place above her head.
She jerks her body, pain snapping at her
muscles.
"You can stay like this for the day." He
rises from the bed, bends down, and
blows out the candles on her birthday
cake. "Night, night, Rosie."
"No!"
He opens the door, letting a stream of
sunlight into the room.
"Please don't leave me here, please!"
And then the door closes, and the
sunlight is gone. — Kay Botha

She serves me a piece of it a few minutes
out of the oven. A little steam rises
from the slits on top. Sugar and spice -
cinnamon - burned into the crust.
But she's wearing these dark glasses
in the kitchen at ten o'clock
in the morning - everything nice -
as she watches me break off
a piece, bring it to my mouth,
and blow on it. My daughter's kitchen,
in winter. I fork the pie in
and tell myself to stay out of it.
She says she loves him. No way
could it be worse. — Raymond Carver

A mature person does not fall in love, he or she rises in love. Only immature people fall; they stumble and fall down in love. Somehow they were managing and standing. Now they cannot manage and they cannot stand. They were always ready to fall on the ground and to creep. They don't have the backbone, the spine; they don't have the integrity to stand alone. — Rajneesh

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful-
The eye of the little god, four cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish. — Sylvia Plath

I know this from the hollow sound that persists after the men's prayer, and from their faces pressed against the window of supplication. And from their coloring, the complexion of people who respond to fear of the absurd with zeal. As for me, I don't like anything that rises to heaven, I only like things affected by gravity. I'll go so far as to say I abhor religions. All of them! Because they falsify the weight of the world. Sometimes I feel like busting through the wall that separates me from my neighbor, grabbing him by the throat, and yelling at him to quit reciting his sniveling prayers, accept the world, open his eyes to his own strength, his own dignity, and stop running after a father who has absconded to heaven and is never coming back. Have a look at that group passing by, over there. Notice the little girl with the veil on her head, even though she's not old enough to know what a body is, or what desire is. What can you do with such people? Eh? — Kamel Daoud

She had not remembered then what she remembers now, a memory like something buried in river silt that finally works free and rises to the surface ... — Ron Rash

A ghastly creeping terror rises from a place beyond thoughts. Some innermost trapdoor she must leap upon immediately and lean against with all her weight and padlock shut. — Anthony Doerr

No one has ever been able to pinpoint the trigger."
"But?"
"But it is legend that ambrosia only rises when-"
She held her breath.
"- an archangel loves true. — Nalini Singh

There came a time near dawn on the eve of spring, and Luthien danced upon a green hill; and suddenly she began to sing. Keen, heart-piercing was her song as the song of the lark that rises from the gates of night and pours its voice among the dying stars, seeing the sun behind the walls of the world; and the song of Luthien released the bonds of winter, and the frozen waters spoke, and flowers sprang from the cold earth where he feet had passed. Then the spell of silence fell from Beren, and he called to her, crying Tinuviel; and the woods echoed the name. — J.R.R. Tolkien

Give vulnerability a shot. Give discomfort its due. Because I think he or she who is willing to be the most uncomfortable is not only the bravest, but rises the fastest. — Timothy Ferriss

She put her hand on her chest. I have magic yet. If you will set the clock working again, then I must be still. I have read quite as many stories as you, September. More, no doubt. And I know a secret you do not: I am not the villain. I am no dark lord. I am the princess in this tale. I am the maiden, with her kingdom stolen away. And how may a princess remain safe and protected through centuries, no matter who may assail her? She sleeps. For a hundred years, for a thousand. Until her enemies have all perished and the sun rises over her perfect, innocent face once more. — Catherynne M Valente

Then she turns to Midnight and perches delicately on his lowered back. He rises, arches his neck, and carries Marlena from the big top. The rest of the horses follow, once again grouped by color, crowding each other to stay close to their mistress. — Sara Gruen

But Noah, you're not supposed to do this, and I can't let you. So go back to your room." Then smiling softly and sniffling and shuffling some papers on the desk, she says: "Me, I'm going downstairs for some coffee. I won't be back to check on your for a while, so don't do anything foolish."
She rises quickly, touches my arm, and walks toward the stairs. She doesn't look back, and suddenly I am alone. I don't know what to think. I look at where she had been sitting and see her coffee, a full cup, still steaming, and once again I learn that there are good people in the world. — Nicholas Sparks

That lazy servant next door was sloppy with the Tso family's nightstool and stunk up the street with their nightsoil," Mama says. "And Cook!" She allows herself a low hiss of disapproval. "Cook has served us shrimp so old that the smell has made me lose my appetite."
We don't contradict her, but the odor suffocating us comes not from spilled nightsoil or day-old shrimp but from her. Since we don't have our servants to keep the air moving in the room, the smell that rises from the blood and pus that seep through the bandages holding Mama's feet in their tiny shape clings to the back of my throat. — Lisa See

BEAST She calls you Beast, for that is what you are. And Beauty. The surprise is not the compliment, not the truth, that she is beautiful. The surprise is not that we wish to help her. The surprise is not even the electric warmth that rises at the sound of her voice, even when she is shouting. The surprise is how much I long to hear her call me, just once more, Ivan. — Meagan Spooner

She rises on her toes and kisses his cheek. "You know what I'm gonna say now."
Zombie smiles. "He'll be fine, Cassie." He grabs her hand and squeezes hard. "With my life."
Her response is immediate and fierce. "Not with your life, Parish. With your death. — Rick Yancey

Katherine is the master of anger; she dominates anger. She takes anger in her hands and twists its neck, ripping its head off. She throws anger against the wall and stomps it to death. Her voice rises, it changes, it conjures up ghosts and cusses in a spitting Irish brogue. Then, when she's tapped out empty, she picked anger up between her a thumb and a forefinger and carries it outside and drops it in the trash. On her way back, she scoops up forgiveness like a bouquet, sniffs it deep and arranges it in a vase. She sets forgiveness down, shining in the middle of everything. — Colleen Clayton

When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," she said sadly. "When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before." -Daenerys Targaryen — George R R Martin

When a woman's wave rises she feels she has an abundance of love to give, but when it falls she feels her inner emptiness and needs to be filled up with love. — John Gray

From the flames she rises, a bold, resplendent warrior ready to bring the world to its knees and cast away those who do not revere their Goddess. Enrapturing all those whom she favours there is no escaping her beguiling sensuality. Enfolding him to her breast, she enslaves his tumescence within her warm embrace and he is lost, within her passion, for eternity... — Virginia Alison

I am thinking about the way that life can be so slippery; the way that a twelve-year-old girl looking into the mirror to count freckles reaches out toward herself and that reflection has turned into that of a woman on her wedding day, righting her veil. And how, when that bride blinks, she reopens her eyes to see a frazzled young mother trying to get lipstick on straight for the parent/teacher conference that starts in three minutes. And how after that young woman bends down to retrieve the wild-haired doll her daughter has left on the bathroom floor, she rises up to a forty-seven-year-old, looking into the mirror to count age spots. — Elizabeth Berg

Present is the reality. The past is finished, and the future doesn't exist. When the Kundalini rises She elongates those thoughts and establishes in the center where there is complete thoughtless awareness. And spiritually you grow in that thoughtless awareness which in Sanskrit we call as Nirvichaar Samadhi. — Nirmala Srivastava

Oh, you are the cutest thing I've ever seen," her voice rises a little higher the more excited she gets. Then she looks up straight at Camryn and says with a serious face, "Oh my God, I want one. — J.A. Redmerski

Perhaps this very evening, if it rises in my heart; perhaps never. It's a fear that sometimes I can't abide to think about, and sometimes I don't like to think on anything else. Well, I was fretting about this fear, and Alice comes in for something, and finds me crying. I would not tell her no more than I would you, Mary; so she says, 'Well, dear, you must mind this, when you're going to fret and be low about anything - An anxious mind is never a holy mind.' O Mary, I have so often checked my grumbling sin'* she said that." *Sin — Elizabeth Gaskell

What is she to you?" she whispers. The real question and I know the answer even if I don't know how to say it. Drew's muffled voice rises up from the floor before I can respond. "Family," he says. And he's right. — Katja Millay

In I Praise My Destroyer, Diane Ackerman demonstrates once again her love for the specific language that rises from the juncture of self and the natural world, and her skillful use of that language. Whether she turns her attention to the act of eating an apricot 'the color of shame and dawn,' or to 'the omnipotence of light,' or to grief when 'All the greens of summer have blown apart,' her linking of unique images, her energetic wit and whimsy, her compassionate investment in life, always bring new pleasures and perceptions to the reader. — Pattiann Rogers

Without direction, the respiratory technician goes to the head of the bed. She takes the tubing, attaches it to the oxygen, and turns it on as high as it will go. She provides a seal with her hand cupped over the plastic mask, over the nose and mouth of the toddler, and methodically provides oxygenated air. Doyle's tiny chest rises and falls while I listen with my stethoscope. I am reaching for another breathing tube.
"Fib!" Dr. Pedras feels for a pulse while another places gelled pads on her chest. — Ruth McLeod-Kearns

Juliette," I whisper. "What are you doing here?"
I'm half-dressed, getting ready for my day, and it's too early for visitors. These hours just before the sun rises are my only moments of peace, and no one should be in here. It seems impossible she gained access to my private quarters.
Someone should've stopped her.
Instead, she's standing in my doorway, staring at me. I've seen her so many times, but this is different - it's causing me physical pain to look at her. But somehow I still find myself drawn to her, wanting to be near her. — Tahereh Mafi

She's lying on her bed reading. Not a girlie magazine, but a technical journal of some kind going by the cover. She's bathed and changed into another delectable baby doll, a black one this time, which shows more skin than the one from the night before. So, of course, my cock rises to the occasion. Damn. — Magda Alexander

Harry has heard this before. Thelma's voice is dutiful and deliberately calm, issuing small family talk when both know that what she wants to discuss is her old issue, that flared up a minute ago, of whether he loves her or not, or why at least he doesn't need her as much as she does him. But their relationship at the start was established with her in pursuit of him, and all the years since, of hidden meetings, of wise decisions to end it and thrilling abject collapses back into sex, have not disrupted the fundamental pattern of her giving and his taking, of her fearing their end more than he, and clinging, and disliking herself for clinging, and wanting to punish him for her dislike, and him shrugging and continuing to bask in the sun of her love, that rises every day whether he is there or not. He can't believe it, quite, and has to keep testing her. — John Updike