Pierced 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
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Elissa became aware that she had both hands held out in front of her, as if to push the sight away, as if to make it not real, not true, not THERE. She'd known they were doing something awful to Lin, to the others, but she'd never imagined something like this. Never imagined there were shutting them away in the dark, trapped and drowning, every moment waiting for the pain that would tear through them when the ship went into hyperspeed. A memory pierced her. "You said the others -other Spares- were taken away. It was this. It was for this." Lin's face turned to her, as pale as that of the dead Spare. In the dim room, her eyes were black hollows. Her jaw was slack with shock. "NO, " said Cadan. "No. It cant be. This cant be what they-" He broke off. "Oh, G-d in heaven, hyperdrives last five to seven years." For a moment Elissa didn't pick up on what he meant. Then it hit her, a huge fist clenching her hers stomach. "SEVEN YEARS? That's how long he's been there?" "No. Not this one. The PHOENIX is only two hears old. This one - somethings been malfunctioning all along. He must-" Cadan choked again. "Ah, G-d what have I been doing to him?" "Two years." Elissa found her head turning back toward where the Spare floated, limp and helpless. Out there, in all the other spaceships, other Spares were floating in the same way, kept alive by tubes, kept - Oh G-d, were they conscious the whole time? As she looked, unable to turn away, other details revealed themselves, details she didn't want, things she didn't want to know could happen anywhere, EVER.

Imogen Howson
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Christ is all in the entire work of salvation. Let me just take you back to the period before this world was made. There was a time when this great world, the sun, the moon, the stars, and all which now exist throughout the whole of the vast universe, lay in the mind of God, like unborn forests in an acorn cup. There was a time when the Great Creator lived alone, and yet he could foresee that he would make a world, and that men would be born to people it; and in that vast eternity a great scheme was devised, whereby he might save a fallen race. Do you know who devised it? God planned it from first to last. Neither Gabriel nor any of the holy angels had anything to do with it. I question whether they were even told how God might be just, and yet save the transgressors. God was all in the drawing up of the scheme, and Christ was all in carrying it out. There was a dark and doleful night! Jesus was in the garden, sweating great drops of blood, which fell to the ground; nobody then came to bear the load that had been laid upon him. An angel stood there to strengthen him, but not to bear the sentence. The cup was put into his hands, and Jesus said, "Father, must I drink it?" and his Father replied, "If thou dost not drink, sinners cannot be saved"; and he took the cup and drained it to its very dregs. No man helped him. And when he hung upon that accursed tree of Calvary, when his precious hands were pierced, when: "From his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flowed mingled down," there was nobody to help him. He was "all" in the work of salvation. And, my friends, if any of you shall be saved, it must be by Christ alone. There must be no patchwork; Christ did it all, and will not be helped in the matter. Christ will not allow you, as some say, to do what you can, and leave him to make up the rest. What can you do that is not sinful? Christ has done all for us; the work of redemption is all finished. Christ planned it all, and worked out all; and we, therefore, preach a full salvation through Jesus Christ.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon
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There was just enough room for the tonga to get through among the bullock-carts, rickshaws, cycles and pedestrians who thronged both the road and the pavement-which they shared with barbers plying their trade out of doors, fortune-tellers, flimsy tea-stalls, vegetable-stands, monkey-trainers, ear-cleaners, pickpockets, stray cattle, the odd sleepy policeman sauntering along in faded khaki, sweat-soaked men carrying impossible loads of copper, steel rods, glass or scrap paper on their backs as they yelled 'Look out! Look out!' in voices that somehow pierced though the din, shops of brassware and cloth (the owners attempting with shouts and gestures to entice uncertain shoppers in), the small carved stone entrance of the Tinny Tots (English Medium) School which opened out onto the courtyard of the reconverted haveli of a bankrupt aristocrat, and beggars-young and old, aggressive and meek, leprous, maimed or blinded-who would quietly invade Nabiganj as evening fell, attempting to avoid the police as they worked the queues in front of the cinema-halls. Crows cawed, small boys in rags rushed around on errands (one balancing six small dirty glasses of tea on a cheap tin tray as he weaved through the crowd) monkeys chattered in and bounded about a great shivering-leafed pipal tree and tried to raid unwary customers as they left the well-guarded fruit-stand, women shuffled along in anonymous burqas or bright saris, with or without their menfolk, a few students from the university lounging around a chaat-stand shouted at each other from a foot away either out of habit or in order to be heard, mangy dogs snapped and were kicked, skeletal cats mewed and were stoned, and flies settled everywhere: on heaps of foetid, rotting rubbish, on the uncovered sweets at the sweetseller's in whose huge curved pans of ghee sizzled delicioius jalebis, on the faces of the sari-clad but not the burqa-clad women, and on the horse's nostrils as he shook his blinkered head and tried to forge his way through Old Brahmpur in the direction of the Barsaat Mahal.

Vikram Seth
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from the upcoming novel, Agent White: A figure dressed all in black ran across the rooftops in the rain. A black cloak fluttered behind him as he ran two and sometimes three stories above the sidewalk where Ezra Beckitt stood. Long silver hair tied back in a ponytail flew out behind him, exposing ears that came to sharp points. His left ear was pierced with a silver ring, high up in the cartilage. Like the old man, this black figure wore a sword; but this weapon was long and thin, slightly curved. The blade stuck out behind him for three and a half feet, almost seeming to glow against the grey backdrop of the rain-soaked cityscape. Suddenly, the figure in black looked down into the street and saw Ezra there. More, he saw Ezra seeing him. Startled, he lost his sure footing and slid down the steep incline of an older building's metal roof, the busy street below waiting to catch him in an asphalt embrace. The figure in black got his feet under himself and pushed, flying out into space above the street. For an eternity Ezra watched him, suspended in the air and the rain with his cloak spread in midnight ripples around him, and then the figure in black flipped neatly and landed on the sidewalk half a block away. The pavement cracked, pushing up in twisted humps around the figure in black's tall leather boots. Before the sound of this impact even reached Ezra the figure was up and gone, dashing through the morning throngs waiting for buses or headed to the 'tram station. Ezra saw a girl's hair blow back in the wind created by his passing, but she never noticed him. A young techie blinked his 20-20's (Ezra's own enhanced senses picked up the augmented eyes because of a strange, silvery glow in the pupils) and turned halfway around, almost seeing him. And then the figure in black darted into an alley, gone. Ezra drew his service weapon and ran after, pushing his way through the sidewalk traffic. Turning into the alley he skidded to a stop, stunned; the figure in black was still there. The alley was just wide enough to accommodate Ezra's shoulders- he couldn't have held his arms out at his sides. Dumpsters spilled their trash out onto the wet pavement. The alley ended in a fire door, the back exit of a store on the next street over. Even if it was locked, Ezra didn't think it would pose a real problem for the figure in black. No, he was waiting for him. Ezra advanced with his gun out in front of him, and his eyes locked with the figure in black's. His were completely black- no pupils, no corneas, only solid black that held no light. The figure in black smiled, exposing teeth that looked very sharp, and laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. He wore leather gloves with the fingers cut off. His fingers were very long and very white. 'Don't even think about it, ' Ezra said, clicking the safety off his weapon. 'I am a Hatis City Guard, an if you move I will put you down.' This only seemed to amuse the figure in black, whose smiled widened as he drew his sword. Ezra opened fire.

Michael Kanuckel
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The car drove slowly down the road, following the slow speed limit to a tee. The engine hummed almost inaudibly to the couple so used to the sound; it was practically a lullaby. The man and woman in the two front seats both struggled to keep their drooping eyes open. The man concentrated hard, with the cool air from the vents blowing on his face. Being behind the wheel of a car was always a challenge after driving for hours. The twig of a girl curled up next to him rested her black and teal hair against the window, peering out into the jet-black night. She watched the city lights pass by, so much brighter than usual against the dark sky. She read the sign that passed by ever so slowly, and smiled slightly. 'Welcome to the town of Crimson, ' she mumbled in a scratchy voice. She wasn't so excited, but at least that meant she could stretch her cramped legs soon. 'I know you don't like the idea of moving, but you'll get used to it. I promise, in a couple of weeks you'll like it here, ' the man's deep voice said, crackling with fatigue. 'I hope so, ' she mumbled. 'Hey, I promise, ' he assured her. 'Alright, ' she said, passively. She glanced over at him and gave him a small smile, taking in his details. His hair was naturally black, and the tips were red, thanks to her suggestion, and it reached down to his jaw. His sleepy eyes were green, contrasting with his pale skin. His nose was thin and rounded, but not too thin, and his chin came to a smooth point. His lips were plump and decorated with snakebite piercings. She eyed the rest of him, then, from his beautiful face, down his thin frame, over the black clothes he wore, to his thin wrists; the left covered in a tribal tattoo. He smiled back, and caressed her smooth, pale cheek lightly with his thumb. She smiled again, and looked out the window once more. She watched the town pass by agonizingly slow. At least she could take in the details. The town looked like it had come straight from the Renaissance, but modernized. Instead of candles, they of course had light bulbs. She found it kind of eerie, yet nice. The town was so active, and alive. Everyone was out, and going about their business. They seemed friendly, too. Some of them waved as the car passed by. She smiled, amused, and looked at the clock. 'Wow, this town is so active, for being 3 in the morning! You would think they'd all be sleeping, ' she said. 'We're not, ' he told her. 'They didn't travel hours to get here, ' she replied. 'Yeah, yeah, ' he said in defeat. 'We're almost there, ' he added, with an ear-to-ear grin. She knew he was excited, and suddenly she was too. She hadn't been, but she suddenly felt like she was on an adventure, and was totally psyched. She sat up with a grin almost as big as her husband's, and peered out the window into the night. He let out a soft laugh. 'You're cute, ' he told her, eyeing her up and down. She was more pale than he was, but it suited her well. Her entire frame was thin, and her face was oval. Her eyes were blue and held the look of excitement. Her eyebrows were naturally thin and the right one was pierced. Her nose was small and pointed, and she had a shiny ring through her septum. He found her the most beautiful creature in the world.

Dawn Bonney
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Come, Paul!" she reiterated, her eye grazing me with its hard ray like a steel stylet. She pushed against her kinsman. I thought he receded; I thought he would go. Pierced deeper than I could endure, made now to feel what defied suppression, I cried - "My heart will break!" What I felt seemed literal heart-break; but the seal of another fountain yielded under the strain: one breath from M. Paul, the whisper, "Trust me!" lifted a load, opened an outlet. With many a deep sob, with thrilling, with icy shiver, with strong trembling, and yet with relief - I wept. "Leave her to me; it is a crisis: I will give her a cordial, and it will pass, " said the calm Madame Beck. To be left to her and her cordial seemed to me something like being left to the poisoner and her bowl. When M. Paul answered deeply, harshly, and briefly - "Laissez-moi!" in the grim sound I felt a music strange, strong, but life-giving. "Laissez-moi!" he repeated, his nostrils opening, and his facial muscles all quivering as he spoke. "But this will never do, " said Madame, with sternness. More sternly rejoined her kinsman - "Sortez d'ici!" "I will send for Pe¨re Silas: on the spot I will send for him, " she threatened pertinaciously. "Femme!" cried the Professor, not now in his deep tones, but in his highest and most excited key, "Femme! sortez e  l'instant!" He was roused, and I loved him in his wrath with a passion beyond what I had yet felt. "What you do is wrong, " pursued Madame; "it is an act characteristic of men of your unreliable, imaginative temperament; a step impulsive, injudicious, inconsistent - a proceeding vexatious, and not estimable in the view of persons of steadier and more resolute character." "You know not what I have of steady and resolute in me, " said he, "but you shall see; the event shall teach you. Modeste, " he continued less fiercely, "be gentle, be pitying, be a woman; look at this poor face, and relent. You know I am your friend, and the friend of your friends; in spite of your taunts, you well and deeply know I may be trusted. Of sacrificing myself I made no difficulty but my heart is pained by what I see; it must have and give solace. Leave me!" This time, in the "leave me" there was an intonation so bitter and so imperative, I wondered that even Madame Beck herself could for one moment delay obedience; but she stood firm; she gazed upon him dauntless; she met his eye, forbidding and fixed as stone. She was opening her lips to retort; I saw over all M. Paul's face a quick rising light and fire; I can hardly tell how he managed the movement; it did not seem violent; it kept the form of courtesy; he gave his hand; it scarce touched her I thought; she ran, she whirled from the room; she was gone, and the door shut, in one second. The flash of passion was all over very soon. He smiled as he told me to wipe my eyes; he waited quietly till I was calm, dropping from time to time a stilling, solacing word. Ere long I sat beside him once more myself - re-assured, not desperate, nor yet desolate; not friendless, not hopeless, not sick of life, and seeking death. "It made you very sad then to lose your friend?" said he. "It kills me to be forgotten, Monsieur, " I said.

Charlotte Bronte«
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