Quotes About House

Yelling was like a bomb in the corner: you saw it, watched the fuse burn, and you knew when it would explode and you needed to run for cover. Not speaking was a killer somewhere in your house with a gun when you were sleeping.

dream home, a huge, semicircular log house that sat

Some women nodded, others shook their heads. I would have killed myself before I let one of them move into my house. Would you Helen? Would you really?

This is how many today treat GOD and Hip Hop. They seek the hand and not the face. They seek the luxury but not the culture, the food but not the appetite, the house but not the home, the medicine but not the health, the bed but not the rest. They would rather use GOD/Hip Hop than live GOD/Hip Hop.

through stinging eyes at the computer monitor. He was exhausted but the man on-screen didn't seem to be. He continued to dig through the rubble of the house above and had now been joined by his

Honesty is occasionally the best policy," she said yawning. And then she added, "By the Black Staff of Beldar, I am tired. If I can find a usable bed in what's left of my house I intend to collapse on it. And Elwyn, if you disturb me before dawn, I promise, I will turn you into a train of thought, and lose you.

Love is like a brick. You can build a house, or you can sink a dead body.

The first morning Simon had been at Amatis's house, a grinning lycanthrope had showed up on the doorstep with a live cat for him. "Blood," he'd said, in a heavily accented voice. "For you. Fresh!" Simon had thanked the werewolf, waited from him to leave, and let the cat go, his expression faintly green. "We'll you're going to have to get your blood from somewhere ," said Luke, looking amused. "I have a pet cat," Simon replied. "There's no way.

Hell is cold. Do you remember when you told me that? We were in the cellars of the Dark House. Anyone else would have been panicking, but you were as calm as a governess, telling me Hell was covered in ice. If it is the fire of Heaven that takes you from me, what a cruel irony that would be.

And so what? I just killed a demon in my own house, and you're going to be a dickhead about it because I'm not some spoiled-rotten rich brat like you and your sister?" Alec looked astonished. "What did you call me?

Demonic activity levels? Do they have a device that measures whether the demons inside the house are doing power yoga?" -Simon, pg.340-

If you do not intend to help us," she said, "then leave this house. Dawn is coming." "I am not a vampire." Magnus said. "I shall not disappear with the light" "You will if I kill you before the sun comes up.

Commoners' bones may have been dug up again and slung into a charnel house: for royalty, burial was for ever.

Uncle Henry visiting a fancy house? Oh, Aunt Rachel, I bet those ladies double their rates when they see the likes of him coming!" "No doubt," Rachel said grimly.

and at the same time you are so lucky to have this house, this atmosphere. Yes, that's what I mean, atmosphere, in which to hide and heal your sores.

In a city by the sea which was once called St. Petersburg, then Petrograd, then Leningrad, then, much later, St. Petersburg again, there stood a long, thin house on a long, thin street. By a long, thin window, a child in a pale blue dress and pale green slippers waited for a bird to marry her.

Tamburlaine's house seemed more a place where books kept their people than where people kept their books.

Didn't you know? All stepmothers are witches. It is our compensation for remaining forever an intruder in another woman's house.

I will always be here, in my old chair by the door, waiting for you, whenever you are lonesome. Our little house will always look just the same as when we first blew the dust off the bookshelves, and the kettle will always be just about to boil. Sometimes I will be young, and sometimes I will be old, sometimes you will be young, and sometimes you will be old. But for as long as forever, I will keep a room for you. I swear by the sparkle in my eye and the spring in your step.

In a city by the sea that was certainly never called anything so bourgeois as St. Petersburg, there stood a long, thin house on a long, thin street.

For witches, there is but one King and one Palace—the one who has wronged them, and the house in which he lives. In fairness, Kings are often quite as dense, calling themselves sacred vessels and masters of all things above and below when in fact they command a few patches of lonely dirt with even lonelier houses sitting upon them.

Orpheus asks his mother. She tells him the obvious: the entrance to hell is always in your own house, silly billy.

It was late spring when Marya Morevna slid her brass key into the lock of the house on Dzerzhinskaya Street, feeling it slide, too, between her own ribs, and open her like a reliquary full of old, nameless bones.

Twelve mothers and twelve fathers were stacked into the long, thin house, each with four children, drawing the old cobalt-and-silver curtains down the center of rooms to make labyrinths of twelve dining rooms, twelve stting rooms, twelve bedrooms. It could be said, and was, that Marya Morevna had twelve mothers and twelve fathers, and so did all the children of that long, thin house.