Cradled Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
most-wretched-men-are-cradled-into-poetry-by-wrong-they-learn-in-suffering-what-they-teach-in-song-percy-bysshe-shelley
my-heart-had-been-touched-by-him-battered-by-him-cradled-by-him-as-days-passed-he-was-cruel-without-meaning-to-be-yet-he-was-kind-i-needed-him-too-much-to-let-myself-want-him-mac
the-legends-lie-cradled-in-seagulls-call-promise-they-made-are-ground-beneath-sadists-fall-jethro-tull
court-not-opinion-therefore-for-it-seems-to-me-that-most-awkward-situations-in-which-we-find-ourselves-are-often-born-out-womb-opinions-men-cradled-in-arms-their-notions-jumoke-f
i-cant-believe-i-get-to-marry-you-the-words-slipped-from-her-in-soft-tone-amazement-he-reached-out-cradled-her-cheek-in-his-palm-i-was-just-thinking-exact-same-thing-gaelen-foley
rough-palms-cradled-my-face-while-my-fingers-gripped-pillow-on-either-side-his-lips-teeth-tongue-mingled-together-i-ate-him-up-didnt-let-go-until-i-had-to-come-up-for-air-priya-a
how-i-made-you-i-wrought-you-i-pulled-you-from-ore-i-labored-you-from-cancer-i-cradled-you-and-now-this-is-how-i-am-repaid-this-is-how-i-am-repaid-the-decemberists
faster-than-rain-came-down-hands-cradled-me-from-ominous-clouds-i-took-those-hands-for-me-to-keep-a-treasure-unto-me-i-bequeath-chloe-charles
i-can-say-for-first-time-that-i-am-not-afraid-while-this-is-feeling-that-can-undoubtedly-change-with-time-i-feel-cradled-by-this-universe-immense-andrew-mcmahon
how-can-i-ever-breathe-normally-again-after-having-been-cradled-by-kind-sorrow-silent-that-it-nourishes-after-having-been-swept-by-kind-joy-absolute-that-it-wounds-sanober-khan
your-idea-bliss-is-to-wake-up-on-monday-morning-knowing-you-havent-single-engagement-for-entire-week-you-are-cradled-in-white-paper-cocoon-tied-edna-ferber
she-had-eyes-that-bore-deep-into-his-heart-bringing-sweet-warm-wave-assurance-within-eyes-that-cradled-him-in-crisp-blackwhite-world-on-other-side-picture-where-life-was-at-least
Take this message to your people, you obsequious little worm, ' I murmured. 'Anyone who lays a hand on Jordan Amador will have to answer to me. Now do me a favor and go to hell.' I removed my sword from his hand and then decapitated him. His severed head tumbled across the floor like a wayward bowling ball. Good riddance. I set my sword aside, found a stool in the corner, and climbed up in front of Jordan. Her handcuffs were attached to a huge meat hook bolted into the ceiling. I lifted her off of it with great care, unsure if she had the strength to stand. As soon as her arms were free, she looped them around my shoulders and pressed her face against my neck. She was trembling, but not crying. I sank to the floor and cradled her in my lap, breathing out the last of my anger now that she was safe. ''M sorry, ' she mumbled in a small voice. 'I'm so sorry, Michael.' I snorted. 'What the hell do you have to apologize for? You got kidnapped. Pretty sure that's not your fault.' She shook her head, her words partially muffled as she pressed her face against my shirt. 'Should've been stronger. I could've gotten you killed.' 'By Heckle and Jeckle here? Not likely.' A shaky laugh rattled through her. She slid her fingers into the hairs along the nape of my neck and hugged me tighter. I knew from experience she didn't want me to see her face because she knew she was only seconds away from breaking down. No one would ever accuse Jordan Amador of being a crybaby, not if she could help it. It was a ridiculous notion at best, but I indulged her anyway. 'Thank you.' 'Just doing my job. But you're welcome.' I smoothed the sweaty hairs away from her forehead enough to kiss it. She didn't move away. We stayed there for a while without speaking, just clinging to each other until we felt strong enough to separate.

Kyoko M.
take-this-message-to-your-people-you-obsequious-little-worm-i-murmured-anyone-who-lays-hand-on-jordan-amador-will-have-to-answer-to-me-now-do-me-favor-go-to-hell-i-removed-my-swo
McKay had worn the wings in the world war with honor, flying first with the French and later with his own country's forces. And as a bird loves the trees, so did McKay love them. To him they were not merely trunks and roots, branches and leaves; to him they were personalities. He was acutely aware of differences in character even among the same species - that pine was benevolent and jolly; that one austere and monkish; there stood a swaggering bravo, and there dwelt a sage wrapped in green meditation; that birch was a wanton - the birch near her was virginal, still a-dream. The war had sapped him, nerve and brain and soul. Through all the years that had passed since then the wound had kept open. But now, as he slid his car down the vast green bowl, he felt its spirit reach out to him; reach out to him and caress and quiet him, promising him healing. He seemed to drift like a falling leaf through the clustered woods; to be cradled by gentle hands of the trees. He had stopped at the little gnome of an inn, and then he had lingered, day after day, week after week. The trees had nursed him; soft whisperings of leaves, slow chant of the needled pines, had first deadened, then driven from him the re-echoing clamor of the war and its sorrow. The open wound of his spirit had closed under their green healing; had closed and become scar; and even the scar had been covered and buried, as the scars on Earth's breast are covered and buried beneath the falling leaves of Autumn. The trees had laid green healing hands on his eyes, banishing the pictures of war. He had sucked strength from the green breasts of the hills. ("The Women Of The Woods")

Abraham Merritt
mckay-had-worn-wings-in-world-war-with-honor-flying-first-with-french-later-with-his-own-countrys-forces-and-as-bird-loves-trees-did-mckay-love-them-to-him-they-were-not-merely-t
What - what - what are you doing?" he demanded. "I am almost six hundred years old, " Magnus claimed, and Ragnor snorted, since Magnus changed his age to suit himself every few weeks. Magnus swept on. "It does seem about time to learn a musical instrument." He flourished his new prize, a little stringed instrument that looked like a cousin of the lute that the lute was embarrassed to be related to. "It's called a charango. I am planning to become a charanguista!" "I wouldn't call that an instrument of music, " Ragnor observed sourly. "An instrument of torture, perhaps." Magnus cradled the charango in his arms as if it were an easily offended baby. "It's a beautiful and very unique instrument! The sound box is made from an armadillo. Well, a dried armadillo shell." "That explains the sound you're making, " said Ragnor. "Like a lost, hungry armadillo." "You are just jealous, " Magnus remarked calmly. "Because you do not have the soul of a true artiste like myself." "Oh, I am positively green with envy, " Ragnor snapped. "Come now, Ragnor. That's not fair, " said Magnus. "You know I love it when you make jokes about your complexion." Magnus refused to be affected by Ragnor's cruel judgments. He regarded his fellow warlock with a lofty stare of superb indifference, raised his charango, and began to play again his defiant, beautiful tune. They both heard the staccato thump of frantically running feet from within the house, the swish of skirts, and then Catarina came rushing out into the courtyard. Her white hair was falling loose about her shoulders, and her face was the picture of alarm. "Magnus, Ragnor, I heard a cat making a most unearthly noise, " she exclaimed. "From the sound of it, the poor creature must be direly sick. You have to help me find it!" Ragnor immediately collapsed with hysterical laughter on his windowsill. Magnus stared at Catarina for a moment, until he saw her lips twitch. "You are conspiring against me and my art, " he declared. "You are a pack of conspirators." He began to play again. Catarina stopped him by putting a hand on his arm. "No, but seriously, Magnus, " she said. "That noise is appalling." Magnus sighed. "Every warlock's a critic." "Why are you doing this?" "I have already explained myself to Ragnor. I wish to become proficient with a musical instrument. I have decided to devote myself to the art of the charanguista, and I wish to hear no more petty objections." "If we are all making lists of things we wish to hear no more... , " Ragnor murmured. Catarina, however, was smiling. "I see, " she said. "Madam, you do not see." "I do. I see it all most clearly, " Catarina assured him. "What is her name?" "I resent your implication, " Magnus said. "There is no woman in the case. I am married to my music!" "Oh, all right, " Catarina said. "What's his name, then?" His name was Imasu Morales, and he was gorgeous.

Cassandra Clare
what-what-what-are-you-doing-he-demanded-i-am-almost-six-hundred-years-old-magnus-claimed-ragnor-snorted-since-magnus-changed-his-age-to-suit-himself-every-few-weeks-magnus-swept
Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes and froze. Her expression was so open, so full of tenderness and longing as well as heat that he almost balked. This was supposed to be about closure, about having the goodbye they'd never gotten last time. How was he supposed to leave after if she gave herself to him this completely? Her hand came up to cradle the side of his face, her thumb stroking back and forth across his jaw, her touch gentle and loving. 'Need you, ' she murmured, It was good. Even better than he remembered. Liam buried his face in the side of her neck and sucked in a breath, struggling to hang on. Being cradled in Honor's arms, buried to the hilt inside her while she opened her body and heart to him was the most incredible thing in the world. How the fand^ was he going to walk away later? Without warning his eyes began to sting. As though she sensed how close he was to coming unglued, Honor murmured to him and pressed kisses to the side of his face, her hand urging his head to turn toward her. Liam shook his head, unable to bear that final level of intimacy when he knew this was their last time. Keeping his face in her neck he fought back the swell of emotion and began to move, a slow, shallow rocking motion that was more profound than words could ever be. He loved her. Would always love her, but it wasn't enough because some things couldn't be undone and he just couldn't let her in the way he had before. All they had left was this bittersweet farewell, and he was going to make it memorable... A lump settled in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, torn between the excruciating pleasure swelling inside him and the need to see her face as he took her this last time. In the end, his heart won out. Powerless to stop himself, he lifted his head and looked down at her. Anguish sliced through his chest when he saw the tears glistening in her beautiful eyes. Don't. Don't cry. Shit, he didn't want either of them to hurt anymore. He was sick of hurting. That's why he was ending it all tonight. With a low sound of regret he covered her mouth with his, his tongue sliding against hers as he took her. Honor kissed him back deep and slow... Cupping her cheek with his free hand he gave her everything he had left to give, allowing his emotional shields to drop for these final moments. She ran her fingertips up and down his back in a soothing motion, her body limp and pliant beneath his, legs still wrapped around him. And all of a sudden he felt like crying. He felt too much, was in too deep again. He didn't know what to say to make this any easier. After what they'd just shared he was more conflicted than ever about what to do. 'I'll miss you, ' she murmured, and he caught the slight catch in her voice. Ah, fuand%. He gritted his teeth. It would be so much easier if they could just hate each other. For a moment he considered saying something to make her do exactly that, but couldn't. Even he wasn't enough of an ahole to end things that way. And that look on her face... Against his better judgment, Liam sat back down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. Honor went willingly into his embrace, pressing her face to his chest as she hugged him tight in return. 'I'll miss you too.' Dammit, he should never have come here tonight. 'I wish it could be different, but I just... I can't do this anymore.' I'll always love you but I can't afford to let you back in again. 'I'm sorry.

Kaylea Cross
then-he-made-mistake-looking-into-her-eyes-froze-her-expression-was-open-full-tenderness-longing-as-well-as-heat-that-he-almost-balked-this-was-supposed-to-be-about-closure-about
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