Quotes About Resistance

The key to resisting Voice," Barrons instructed, "is finding that place inside you no one else can touch. "You mean the sidhe -seer place?" I said, hopping like a one-legged chicken. "No, a different place. All people have it. Not just sidhe -seers. We're born alone and we die alone. That place." "I don't get it." "I know. That's why you're hopping.

If you are not with me, you are against me. I have no mercy for my enemies.

You've mistaken me for someone else. Do not wait on me, Ms. Lane. Do not construct your world around mine. I'm not that man." "Screw you, Barrons." "I'm not that man, either.

That's weak! You don't know what caring is... Caring is love. And love fights! Love doesn't look for the path of least resistance. Hell's bells, Roderick, if love was that easy everyone would have it. You're a coward!

Dani, Dani, Dani." I flinch. I've never heard anyone say my name so gently. It creeps me all kinds of out. He's towering over me, arms crossed over his chest, scarred forearms dark against the rolled-up sleeves of a crisp white shirt. Heavy silver cuffs glint at both wrists. The light is smack behind his head, as usual. "You didn't really think I'd let you get away with it," Ryodan says.

raking a hand through his hair, he forced his attention to the text she'd left on the coffee table, refusing to dwell on the disconcerting fact that a part of him had taken one look at the lass in such proximity to his bed and said simply: Mine

No way. I'm not going in there. I draw the line at grave-robbing, Barrons. It's not your pen.

He was so close, his body electric, his expression savage. I moistened my lips. His gaze fixed on them. I think I stopped breathing. He jerked so sharply away that his long dark coat sliced the air, and turned his back to me. "Was that an invitation, Ms. Lane?" "If it was?" I asked, astonishing myself. What did I think I was doing? "I don't do hypotheticals. Little girl

You might be able to thrash your way out of a spiderweb, but thrashing in quicksand doesn't work. The harder you fight, the more ground you lose. Struggling merely expedites your inevitable defeat.

At the very last moment, just before its lips claimed hers, its grip on her face relaxed slightly and she did the only thing she could think of: She head-butted it. Snapped her head back, then forward again, and bashed it square in the face as hard as she could. So hard, in fact, that it made her woozy and gave her an instant migraine, making her wonder how Jean-Claude Van Damme always managed to coolly continue fighting after such a stunt. Obviously, movies lied.

No, no, no, no physics over breakfast!

Bloody hell, Ms. Lane, how many "buts" are you going to throw at me besides the only one I want? He rakes a hungry gaze over my ass and I shiver.

You are so stubborn." "I am? I? Woman who insists everything be her way? You must wear hard white shoes. You must remove your weapons. You must travel in a car. You must not kiss me even though I wrap my legs around you when you do. Must must must. I weary of that word.

When she'd finally cranked up her favorite Godsmack CD in an effort to tune him out, he'd let out a roar that had rattled the windows in her car: By all that's holy, woman, what is that hideous noise? Cease and desist! A battlefield at full charge could be no more cacophonous!

You can't help yourself, can you? You think the only thing to do with a parade is rain on it. Some people know to enjoy the parade because, dude, the rain always comes back.

Chloe-lass, I'm going to keep you." "Keep me, my ass," she snapped. "I don't agree to being kept." "Forever," he said, with a chilling smile. "And you will.

Keltar mates ne'er come easily to their men. Some travel distances too vast and strange to fathom, others travel but a short path, though a far distance in their hearts. Most resist every step of the way, yet for each Keltar, one woman will make that journey. 'Tis up to the Keltar to claim her.

You would bound off faster than a hare if I were such a fool." He grasped her shoulders and pulled her close. "I would advise against running from me. I would catch you easily, and the chase would only arouse me." When she tried to shrug his hands off her shoulders, he said, "Is this the fashion in which you thank me for freeing you?" he teased. "You might grant me a boon for my efforts.

You know I'm no' a good man," he said, his voice deceptively gentle, belying the steel beneath it. "I've made no excuses. I've given you no pretty lies. You came with me anyway. Doona pretend you doona know what I want and doona think to deny me. Twice now you've tried to go back. There is no going back with me, Chloe-lass.

I speak belligerence in every language known to man.

What did you wish for, Grimm?" Hawk ignored the warning with the devil-may-care attitude that was his wont where the lasses were concerned. A slow smile slid over Grimm's face. "A lass who doesn't want you. A lovely, nay, an earth-shatteringly beautiful one, with wit and wisdom to boot. One with a perfect face and a perfect body and a perfect 'no' on her perfect lips for you, my oh-so perfect friend. And I also wished to be allowed to watch the battle.

What can one word hurt? It isn't like letting a woman have the power for a change can bring about the end of my world as I know it, for fuck's sake.

Fuck normal. Give me a good war any day.

If that was how he asserted his control, she might just have to challenge his authority more often.