Quotes About Tension

Halil could sense the cruel-eyed man humming with the power to end his life, straining at the leash like a snarling dog.

You make it sound like the end of the world," said Pritchard. "Not yet," Jensen told him, as he walked away, "but you can see it from here.

So,' Lucy said to the air, 'not lucky, then.' Through the PSG-1's scope, she could see the Brit standing stock still, and a sliver of the assault team operator holding him up. It was impossible to get a good look at the gunman. From her angle across the park, a cluster of vents prevented the sniper from seeing all of him

In his hand, Marc still had the Glock semi-automatic. Both of them knew what should happen next. The right choice, the expedient choice, was to put a bullet in this man's head and keep running. Marc kept running

Music is like a huge release of tension.

We had trench warfare in America way before World War I. Most people don't know that.

and the green lawn, the gaudy tulips, were hushed and expectant beneath the overcast sky. Somewhere a shutter creaked. Above my head, in the wicked black claws of an elm, a marooned kite rattled convulsively, then was still. This is Kansas, I thought. This is Kansas before the cyclone hits.

jeans jacket, catching him in a chokehold, pistol at

As I was saying, that's the dark secret of our time, no one mentions it, but every time one opens a door one is greeted by a shrill, desperate and inaudible scream.

Dorothy B. Hughes

If you can repress for a moment your spinster-like longing to meddle in my affairs,' said Lymond cuttingly, from the door, 'I am waiting to go.

The war between England and Scotland was in its eighth year and there had been no raid for ten days: it had seemed possible to get married in peace.

He can make you want to knock him down, if he feels like it, by simply saying "good morning". He possibly said simply "good morning" to Lord Culter. The difference was that, being his brother, Culter hit him.

Philippa drew a deep breath, and found relief in expelling it. 'Do you think,' she said carefully, 'that someone is going to be goaded into doing something soon?' There was a long pause. 'I think,' said Jerott at length, equally carefully, 'that someone is going to the court of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, and someone else is going to Flaw Valleys, England, to Mother.' Which summed it up, Philippa supposed, with regret.

There are times,' said Philippa shortly, 'when I feel like the entire Russian army.' 'There are times," said Lymond equally shortly, 'when I wish that you were. It would solve the whole Tartar problem and save Ottoman Turkey for Jesus.

There's some of them'll be nursing a guid scratch or two on their hinder-ends this night.… Man, it was a rout.' 'I imagine,' said Piero Strozzi, his dark face impassive, 'that my lord Grey's army would not relish their defeat either.' 'Oh, aye, the English,' said Buccleuch absently. 'We are, after all, at war with them and not with the Kerrs,' the Marshal said mildly.

Why not,' said Gaultier viciously, 'play chess?' It silenced Lymond. His head went back as if he had been struck, the indrawn air caught in his throat. He said nothing more.

I've been in Scotland more lately than any of you. I tell you, there are twenty sides in that fight, never mind two, and when they get tired throwing things at each other, they'll all turn and stamp on the mediator.

Let us save everyone's faces,' Lymond said, 'while we can. And before Master Buchanan is hurled to the floor by either Nicolas or a thunderbolt from the late Copernicus.

He said, 'Don't. That is not a weapon for you. And it destroys what we have.' 'But I have nothing, yet,' Philippa said. 'And all the nicety is on your side. Which means I choose any weapon that suits me.

Come in,' he said. 'You can use Adam's rooms.' His hand, moving upwards, drew the fair, tangled hair clear of Lymond's eyes and checked, at the shudder that ran jarring through from his fingertips. Lymond dropped his hands. He made no protest. He did not look up. But unimpeded at last, Jerott could see the look on his face and give it, sickeningly, its correct interpretation.

They were the élite of their corps, he began to realize; already stringently trained, and chosen to escort the Voevoda Bolshoia. That they were afraid of him to a man took nothing, he saw, from their zest, or the sparkling tension which clothed them like frost. He had seen that once before, in a company under the Duc de Guise, about to go into battle. It was the sign of success; the fire and stamp of natural leadership.

Lord Culter watched them come. There was about him none of the mad abandon of the bridegroom. A sober, thickset figure with brown hair and reliable grey eyes, Richard Crawford in his thirties was a man of wealth and tried power. He waited, his face stony, and before Buccleuch opened his mouth, he spoke. "If it's about Lymond, don't trouble, Buccleuch." "It's about Lymond," said Sir Wat grimly, and let fly.

Mr. Copley, feeling as though his head were filled with hard knobs of spinning granite that crashed with sickening thuds against his brainpan, walked stiffly away to his own quarters. As