I was under the impression that I warned you that in London country ways will not do, Frederica!" "You did!" she retorted. "And although I can't say that I paid much heed to your advice it so happens that I am accompanied today by my aunt!" "Who adds invisibility to her other accomplishments!
Well, how do we get out of this place?' Evyette's voice shaking slightly. 'We can't.' If Kaleb felt any hopelessness he wasn't conveying it. He looked around arduously, 'Unless we find someone willing to help us.' 'Oh well, that should not be a problem at all, ' Tristan retorted throwing his hands up, 'considering everything so far has tried to kill us!
Your dress is thin, you have been dancing, you are heated." "Always preaching, " retorted she; "always coddling and admonishing." The answer Dr. John would have given did not come; that his heart was hurt became evident in his eye; darkened, and saddened, and pained, he turned a little aside, but was patient.
We assured Phelan that we were more than happy to let him have you and your menagerie," Leo retorted. "After that, he said he needed to think." "About what?" Beatrix demanded. "What is there to think about? Why is it taking him so long to make a decision?" "He's a man, dear," Amelia explained kindly. "Sustained thinking is very difficult for them.
We assured Phelan that we were more than happy to let him have you and your menagerie, ' Leo retorted. 'After that, he said he needed to think.' 'About what?' Beatrix demanded. 'What is there to think about? Why is it taking him so long to make a decision?' 'He's a man, dear, ' Amelia explained kindly. 'Sustained thinking is very difficult for them.
Hekate smacked the mirror down. "I'd never fancy you, " she retorted to Hermes. "And if you ever try to kiss me, I'll-I'll keep a snake hidden in my clothes and make it bite you. On the lips. And on both ears." "See, your threats are still age twelve, " Hermes said. "I'll help you work on that.
Sire, " Oliver said as he helped Petunia to her feet, "I'd like to marry Petunia. "Of course you would, " retorted the King Gregor. "But not right now! we just got those two taken care of." He pointed to the twins who were still trying to play Christian's odd game. "And weddings are expensive!
Jessica Day George
When asked by a grumpily puzzled professor what "rules" he followed, Debussy is said to have retorted, mon plaisir "whatever I please" and he further claimed that more was to be gained by watching the sun rise than by listening to the Pastoral Symphony. Although such remarks were intended to shock, they contain a core of Debussyan verity...
I should go. Stewart's waitin' for me. Says he wants to teach me how to use a sword properly.' Riley hooted. 'Can I watch? This should be totally hilarious.' 'Ya've got no respect woman.' Beck retorted. After the door closed behind him she realized what he'd said. 'Woman?' He wasn't calling her girl any longer.
Nothing is safe from you. If I were to court a girl who lived on an iceberg in the middle of the ocean, sooner or later"" probably sooner"" I'd look up to see you swooping overhead on a broomstick. In fact, by now I'd be disappointed in you if I didn't see you." "Are you off to the iceberg today?" Sophie retorted.
Diana Wynne Jones
Of course, in my mind, violence would have been better, but since that wasn't an option, I decided to play along. 'It's okay, handsome. I've only been here a few minutes. I'd like to introduce you to Dick.' 'No, it's... ' Richard tried to correct me only to be interrupted by Drew. 'Nice to meet you, Dick, ' Drew retorted.
Nothing is safe from you. If I were to court a girl who lived on an iceberg in the middle of the ocean, sooner or later- probably sooner- I'd look up to see you swooping overhead on a broomstick. In fact, by now I'd be disappointed in you if I didn't see you.' 'Are you off to the iceberg today?' Sophie retorted.
Diana Wynne Jones
In what appears to have been an unplanned quip, Wilberforce asked Huxley if he thought he was descended from an ape on his father's or mother's side. Huxley retorted that he would rather have simian relatives than claim kinship with a man who used his charisma and authority to quash free debate.
Daemon laughed "I'm only at the service of one person in particular" My cheeks flamed as I scooted my chair over. "You are not servicing me in any way." He leaned in, closing my newly gained distance. "Not yet." "Oh, come on, Daemon I'm right here." Dee frowned. "You're about to make me lose my appetite." "Like that will ever happen." Lisa retorted with an eye roll.
Jennifer L. Armentrout
Do not do that again, " he said stiffly. "Don't kiss me back then, " I retorted. He stared at me for what seemed like forever. "I don't give 'Zen lessons' to hear myself talk. I don't give them because you're another student. I'm doing this to teach you control." "You're doing a great job, " I said bitterly.
IT is reported of Margaret Fuller that she said she accepted the universe. "Gad, she'd better!" retorted Carlyle. Carlyle himself did not accept the universe in a very whole-hearted manner. Looking up at the midnight stars, he exclaimed: "A sad spectacle! If they be inhabited, what a scope for misery and folly; if they be not inhabited, what a waste of space!"
Giddy-up, giddy-up!" she cried, switching her horse's flanks with one of her mother's long knitting needles as a riding crop. "Take it easy!" Bear protested. "I'm going as fast as I can!" Caroline had to laugh at the sight. "Now if you don't ride nicely, I'll buck you off and run for the woods!" "No, you won't, " retorted Bianca smugly. "It's too cold out there. Giddy-up!
My muscles informed me they did not want to go through any more exercise today. So I suggest that maybe he should let me off this time. He laughed, and I'm pretty sure it was at me... not with me. "Why is that funny?" "Oh, " he said, his smile dropping. "You were serious." "Of course I was! Look, I've technically been awake for two days. Why do we have to start this training now? Let me go to bed." I whined. "It's just one hour." "How do you feel right now?" "I hurt like hell." "You'll feel worse tomorrow." "So?" "So, better get a jump on it while you still feel... not as bad." "What kind of logic is that?" I retorted.
Celeste rejoined him. "How you ladies do love a bargain, " he said. "You were listening!" "I left before you shared the secrets of your undergarments." Jack looked sheepish. "That didn't sound quite how I intended." Celeste blushed. "You should not have mentioned it at all. A lady's undergarments are not a fit topic for a gentleman to discuss at a military dinner." "Actually, " he retorted, "you would be surprised at how often the subject comes up.
Mew," the kitten retorted, locking gazes with him. It had the expression common to all kittens, that of a tyrant in the becoming. 'I was comfortable, and you dared to move,' those jade eyes said. 'For that you must die.' When it became apparent to the cat that its two or three pounds of mass were insufficient to break Locke's neck with one mighty snap, it put its paws on his shoulders and began sharing its drool-covered nose with his lips. He recoiled.
There you are!" he shouted at them. "Father has half the castle turned out looking for you." "Us?" Hadrian asked. "Yes." Fanen nodded. "He wants to see the two thieves in his chambers right away." "You didn't steal the silver or anything, did you, Royce?" Hadrian asked. "I would bet it has more to do with your flirting with Lenare this afternoon and threatening Mauvin just to show off," Royce retorted. "That was your fault," Hadrian said, jabbing his finger at him.
Michael J. Sullivan
Hey Mason, wipe the drool off your face. If you're going to think about me naked, do it on your own time." [...] "This is my time, Hathaway. I'm leading today's session." "Oh yeah?" I retorted. "Huh. Well, I guess this is a good time to think about me naked, then." "It's always a good a time to think about you naked," added someone nearby, breaking the tension further.
Hey Mason, wipe the drool off your face. If you're going to think about me naked, do it on your own time." [... ] "This is my time, Hathaway. I'm leading today's session." "Oh yeah?" I retorted. "Huh. Well, I guess this is a good time to think about me naked, then." "It's always a good a time to think about you naked, " added someone nearby, breaking the tension further.
The silver car had been closing in, but just then, it took a sharp turn to the left. Where are they going? Leor wondered. But he decided to keep it to himself. The cabby nodded and ran a hand through his hair. 'Alright. Well, we're here anyways.' Leor saw the winery a few blocks down. 'I thought you said it'd take ten minutes?' 'You made me nervous, ' Claude retorted. 'I drive fast when I'm nervous.' 'You should get that checked, ' Leor replied. 'It can't be good for your kids. Or your wife.
How about this?' she retorted, her voice deceptively flirtatious, and in that small, stolen moment in his mind, he quickly spun and grasped her by the small of her back, pulled her close into to him, and made her his. And maybe she resisted at first before giving in, or maybe she didn't-maybe she'd wanted this just as long as he had. But none of that would matter, because they would finally be together, starting at that moment and for the rest of their lives. And they would love each other and raise children and make music, and life would suddenly be worth living, and Christ, how could anyone ever throw something like that away?
To this I replied, "I still think that my body is not merely a sensory appearance, for surely it came from my parents, who were its cause and condition." He said, "If you think that your body came from your father and mother, then what are the beginning and end of these parents? What are their source, their location, their final destination? Tell me!" I answered, "I think that they exist, but I am not aware of what they are. It seems to me that a physical body without parents is not possible." He retorted, "Consider this. Who are the parents of the body in a dream, in the bardo, and in the hell realms?" With that, I arrived at the decision that this body has never existed, being simply a sensory experience.
What say you, Luxa?" said Vikus. "What can I say, Vikus? Can I return to our people and tell them I withdrew from the quest when our survival hangs in the balance?" said Luxa bitterly. "Of course you cannot, Luxa. This is why he times it so," said Henry. "You could choose to - " started Vikus. "I could choose! I could choose!" retorted Luxa. " Do not offer me a choice when you know none exits!" She and Henry turned their backs on Vikus.
You aren't a bit romantic, are you?" he asked, amused. She sat back and stared at him. She was beginning to think that Neal required a keeper. He seemed to have the craziest ideas. "Romance? Isn't that love stuff?" She asked finally. "It's more than just love. It's color, and-and fire. You don't want things magnificent and filled with-with grandeur," he said, trying to make her understand. "You know, drama. Importance. Transcendent Passion." "I just want to be a knight," Kel retorted, putting her used tableware on her tray. "Eat your vegetables. They're good for you.
Truth as a cultural ideal has functioned as an opiate, perhaps the only serious opiate of the modern world. Karl Marx said that religion was the opiate of the masses. Raymond Aron retorted that Marxist ideas were in turn the opiate of the intellectuals. There is perspicacity in both these polemical thrusts. But is perspicacity truth? I wish to suggest that perhaps truth has been the real opiate, of both the masses and the intellectuals.
Eisenhower had run the Army; he knew all the ways decision making can go off the rails, and insisted on collective debate precisely to prevent senior officials from freelancing, or putting their departmental interests first. For all the formal machinery, Eisenhower was very literally the commander in chief, making the key decisions himself and monitoring closely how they were carried out. Even years after D-Day, when critics needled him for not being on the front lines with the invading forces, he retorted, "I planned it and took responsibility for it. Did you want me to unload a truck?
So spake the Seraph Abdiel faithful found, Among the faithless, faithful only hee; Among innumerable false, unmov'd, Unshak'n, unseduc'd, unterrifi'd His Loyaltie he kept, his Love, his Zeale; Nor number, nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind Though single. From amidst them forth he passd, Long way through hostile scorn, which he susteind Superior, nor of violence fear'd aught; And with retorted scorn his back he turn'd On those proud Towrs to swift destruction doom'd.
I've a need for knowing what potion you mixed with these, lass." The rich baritone of his voice washed over her with a mesmerizing quality. She liked the sound. A lot. 'Twas deep and majestic, the kind of voice a body would never tire of hearing... Apparently we have company. We shall finish this conversation anon." "I highly doubt that we will, " she retorted. "My brother has arrived to accuse me of witchcraft and arrest me. Unless you are available for hire as my protector, this conversation is quite finished." Instead of appearing shocked, the stranger's eyes took on a twinkle. "Is that so? Most damsels in your distressed shoes would be either weeping or swooning by now. Instead you offer me employment. I'll admit I am fascinated by your offer.
Movie. What's my favorite kind of movie?' 'Is there a point to this?' 'Please, Lucy. What's my favorite movie?' 'Horror. Why?' 'No reason, ' I sighed as I slouched back in the chair. 'And would you stop that! Please? It's distracting, ' she said as she slammed her hand down on top of mine to stop me from twirling my ring. I jerked my hand out from under hers so I could cross my arms over my chest. 'What's with you today?' Her tone was saturated with distaste. 'Nothing.' 'Well, you're being awfully annoying for nothing to be wrong, ' she retorted. 'Go ahead, Josh. I'm listening now.' I could feel the cold emanating from her and flowing in my direction. It had been this way for a while I just didn't want to see it. Danny and Josh looked at me and then awkwardly focused on other things.
There's no way out, " he announced with satisfaction, "and no amount of wishful dreaming will produce one. The demon won't go back in its bottle, the face-off is for ever, the embrace gets tighter and the toys cleverer with every generation, and there's no such thing for either side as enough security. Not for the main players, not for the nasty little newcomers who each year run themselves up a suitcase bomb and join the club. We get tired of believing that, because we're human. We may even con ourselves into believing the threat has gone away. It never will. Never, never, never." "So, who'll save us then, Walt?" Barley asked. "You and Nedsky?" "Vanity, if anything will, which I doubt, " Walter retorted. "No leader wants to go down in history as the ass who destroyed his country in an afternoon. And funk, I suppose. Most of our gallant politicians do have a narcissistic objection to suicide, thank God.
John le Carre
He made a commitment, Eena.' 'And you believe this commitment, ' she spoke the word detestably, 'is more important than true love?' 'Yes.' 'No, ' she stubbornly disagreed. 'Yes, ' Ian insisted as he put his finger to her lips, preventing her from arguing any further. 'Love grows and wanes, Eena, but honor, duty, and commitment, those things are constant and stable. They define who you are.' 'They define who you are?' she repeated. 'You mean miserable?' 'Content, ' he retorted. 'Lonely, ' she argued. 'Faithful, ' he insisted, his eyes widening to emphasize the importance of the word. 'Empty, regretful, and... ' 'Hopeful, ' Ian whispered in her ear. This word caught her off guard. At present, hope was probably all any of them could cling to.
Richelle E. Goodrich
I'm not a boy!' Dashan retorted hotly. 'How dare you speak to me like that!' 'I'll speak to you any way I see fit. You are sorely lacking in discipline and wouldn't know danger if it bit you in the arse!' Ryland looked towards the door where Dashan wanted to go. 'Do you have any idea what sort of place that is?' 'A brothel?' Ryland laughed so hard his head fell back. 'A brothel, he says. My, my, aren't you the innocent? It is a brothel, but a certain type of one. The men who frequent it are known to have very particular tastes.' 'What sort of tastes?' Dashan was curious now. Did Ryland know it was a brothel for men who wanted men? And how did he know? Did he use this place too? Ryland shook his head. 'That's not something the king would appreciate me telling his son.' 'Show me then. I demand that you show me. That's an order.
You're a Dark One," said Anton. "All you see in everything is evil, treachery, trickery." "All I do is not close my eyes to them," Edgar retorted. "And that's why I don't trust Zabulon. I distrust him almost as much as I do Gesar. I can even trust you more-you're just another unfortunate chess piece who happens by chance to be painted a different color from me. Does a white pawn hate a black one? No. Especially if the two pawns have their heads down together over a quiet beer or two." "You know," Anton said in a slightly surprised voice, "I just don't understand how you can carry on living if you see the world like that. I'd just go and hang myself." "So you don't have any counterarguments to offer?" Anton took a gulp of beer too. The wonderful thing about this natural Czech beer was that even if you drank lots of it, it still didn't make your head or your body feel heavy... Or was that an illusion? "Not a single one," Anton admitted. "Right now, this very moment, not a single one. But I'm sure you're wrong. It's just difficult to argue about the colors of the rainbow with a blind man. There's something missing in you... I don't know what exactly. But it's something very important, and without it you're more helpless than a blind man.
I'm sorry." "Sorry? For what?" He straightened and moved a bit closer, sounding honestly puzzled. "I am not much of a conversationalist, I'm afraid. I am not used to - to any of this. You must find this terribly... " "Terribly what?" "Boring." She faced him squarely then, for she refused to shy away from difficulties. He let out a short bark of laughter. "Boring? My dear Miss Bainbridge, boring is definitely something you are not." "I don't know how you can say that, " she retorted somewhat crossly. "There is really no need for you to be polite. I haven't said any of the things I should. I have been blunt and no doubt impolite. I have never danced before with any man I haven't known since I could toddle. And now I cannot even come up with the most commonplace remark." His chuckle was low and warm [... ]. "Oh, you know what I mean." Really the man was maddening. "You shouldn't laugh at someone who is admitting their grievous social ineptitude." "What else should I do?" His teeth glinted in the darkness. "Let me assure you that I have danced with a great many girls whom I have not known since childhood. And I have heard a great many commonplace remarks. It is, quite frankly, a relief to enjoy the quiet and cool of the garden without hearing that the weather is quite nice this evening or that the breeze is most refreshing or that the party is so enjoyable.
The shrieks were coming from two quite naked girls, who were pursued by a pair of apes snapping at their bottoms. [... ] So he now raises his double-barrelled Spanish rifle, fires and kills both apes. 'God be praised, my dear Calambo! I have delivered these two poor creatures from grave peril; if it was a sin to kill an Inquisitor and a Jesuit, I have made ample amends by saving the lives of two girls [... ]' He was about to continue, but words failed him when he saw the two girls throw their arms lovingly around the two apes and collapse in tears over their corpses, filling the air with the most pitiful lamentations. 'I was not expecting quite so much tenderness of heart, ' he said at last to Cacambo, who replied: 'You've excelled yourself this time, Master; you have just despatched the two lovers of these young ladies.' '-Their lovers! Is it possible? You're making fun of me, Cacambo; how could anyone believe in such a thing?' - 'My dear Master, ' retorted Cacambo, 'you are always astounished by everything; why do you find it so strange that in some countries it is apes who enjoy the favours of young ladies? After all, they are one-quarter human, just as I am one-quarter Spanish.
Their conversation ceased abruptly with the entry of an oddly-shaped man whose body resembled a certain vegetable. He was a thickset fellow with calloused and jaundiced skin and a patch of brown hair, a frizzy upheaval. We will call him Bell Pepper. Bell Pepper sidled up beside The Drippy Man and looked at the grilled cheese in his hand. The Drippy Man, a bit uncomfortable at the heaviness of the gaze, politely apologized and asked Bell Pepper if he would like one. 'Why is one of your legs fatter than the other?' asked Bell Pepper. The Drippy Man realized Bell Pepper was not looking at his sandwich but towards the inconsistency of his leg sizes. 'You always get your kicks pointing out defects?' retorted The Drippy Man. 'Just curious. Never seen anything like it before.' 'I was raised not to feel shame and hide my legs in baggy pants.' 'So you flaunt your deformity by wearing short shorts?' 'Like you flaunt your pockmarks by not wearing a mask?' Bell Pepper backed away, kicking wide the screen door, making an exit to a porch over hanging a dune of sand that curved into a jagged upward jab of rock. 'He is quite sensitive, ' commented The Dry Advisor. 'Who is he?' 'A fellow who once manipulated the money in your wallet but now curses the fellow who does.
I understand that it was Derian who spoiled everything; he purposefully tainted your view of me and forced you to follow him. I know that none of what happened was your idea or your desire, Eena.' She didn't get up, but spoke from her curled position. Her voice was weak, still heavy with despair. 'Derian never forced me to do anything.' 'But if he hadn't influenced you, we would be enjoying a pleasant dinner again, telling stories and laughing. I'm sure that would be the case. You would be happy...and so would I.' Eena chuckled without amusement. 'You have to admit we shared some very enjoyable evenings, didn't we? There's really no reason why we can't put this whole mess behind us and start from where we left off.' He sounded genuinely serious. 'You forget, ' she reminded him, 'I heard your conversation with the Ghengats. This isn't about Derian, it's about you.' 'Alright, ' he admitted, 'so I'm not everything you'd hoped for. But really, what man can ever live up to any woman's terribly high expectations?' This got her attention. She almost stood up to face him, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Leaning forward, she retorted, 'Expecting a man to respect you, to be honest with you, and, oh yes, to not be a shameless murderer-I don't think those are overly high expectations!' He shrugged, casually excusing his faults. 'Nobody's perfect.' 'What do you want?' she asked, exasperated. He squatted to her level and then plainly stated his desire. 'I want you. Eena thought the expression on his face-the look in his weary blue eyes-appeared strangely sincere. But there was one thing she had learned from all this: never trust a master of deceit.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Oh, " he said again and picked up two petals of cherry blossom which he folded together like a sandwich and ate slowly. "Supposing, " he said, staring past her at the wall of the house, "you saw a little man, about as tall as a pencil, with a blue patch in his trousers, halfway up a window curtain, carrying a doll's tea cup-would you say it was a fairy?" "No, " said Arrietty, "I'd say it was my father." "Oh, " said the boy, thinking this out, "does your father have a blue patch on his trousers?" "Not on his best trousers. He does on his borrowing ones." 'Oh, " said the boy again. He seemed to find it a safe sound, as lawyers do. "Are there many people like you?" "No, " said Arrietty. "None. We're all different." "I mean as small as you?" Arrietty laughed. "Oh, don't be silly!" she said. "Surely you don't think there are many people in the world your size?" "There are more my size than yours, " he retorted. "Honestly-" began Arrietty helplessly and laughed again. "Do you really think-I mean, whatever sort of a world would it be? Those great chairs... I've seen them. Fancy if you had to make chairs that size for everyone? And the stuff for their clothes... miles and miles of it... tents of it... and the sewing! And their great houses, reaching up so you can hardly see the ceilings... their great beds... the food they eat... great, smoking mountains of it, huge bogs of stew and soup and stuff." "Don't you eat soup?" asked the boy. "Of course we do, " laughed Arrietty. "My father had an uncle who had a little boat which he rowed round in the stock-pot picking up flotsam and jetsam. He did bottom-fishing too for bits of marrow until the cook got suspicious through finding bent pins in the soup. Once he was nearly shipwrecked on a chunk of submerged shinbone. He lost his oars and the boat sprang a leak but he flung a line over the pot handle and pulled himself alongside the rim. But all that stock-fathoms of it! And the size of the stockpot! I mean, there wouldn't be enough stuff in the world to go round after a bit! That's why my father says it's a good thing they're dying out... just a few, my father says, that's all we need-to keep us. Otherwise, he says, the whole thing gets"-Arrietty hesitated, trying to remember the word-"exaggerated, he says-" "What do you mean, " asked the boy, " 'to keep us'?
After his initial homecoming week, after he'd been taken to a bunch of sights by his cousins, after he'd gotten somewhat used to the scorching weather and the surprise of waking up to the roosters and being called Huascar by everybody (that was his Dominican name, something else he'd forgotten), after he refused to succumb to that whisper that all long-term immigrants carry inside themselves, the whisper that says You do not belong, after he'd gone to about fifty clubs and because he couldn't dance salsa, merengue, or bachata had sat and drunk Presidentes while Lola and his cousins burned holes in the floor, after he'd explained to people a hundred times that he'd been separated from his sister at birth, after he spent a couple of quiet mornings on his own, writing, after he'd given out all his taxi money to beggars and had to call his cousin Pedro Pablo to pick him up, after he'd watched shirtless shoeless seven-year-olds fighting each other for the scraps he'd left on his plate at an outdoor cafe, after his mother took them all to dinner in the Zona Colonial and the waiters kept looking at their party askance (Watch out, Mom, Lola said, they probably think you're Haitian - La unica haitiana aqui eres tu, mi amor, she retorted), after a skeletal vieja grabbed both his hands and begged him for a penny, after his sister had said, You think that's bad, you should see the bateys, after he'd spent a day in Bani (the camp where La Inca had been raised) and he'd taken a dump in a latrine and wiped his ass with a corn cob - now that's entertainment, he wrote in his journal - after he'd gotten somewhat used to the surreal whirligig that was life in La Capital - the guaguas, the cops, the mind-boggling poverty, the Dunkin' Donuts, the beggars, the Haitians selling roasted peanuts at the intersections, the mind-boggling poverty, the asshole tourists hogging up all the beaches, the Xica de Silva novelas where homegirl got naked every five seconds that Lola and his female cousins were cracked on, the afternoon walks on the Conde, the mind-boggling poverty, the snarl of streets and rusting zinc shacks that were the barrios populares, the masses of niggers he waded through every day who ran him over if he stood still, the skinny watchmen standing in front of stores with their brokedown shotguns, the music, the raunchy jokes heard on the streets, the mind-boggling poverty, being piledrived into the corner of a concho by the combined weight of four other customers, the music, the new tunnels driving down into the bauxite earth [... ]