Quotes About Strength

I hate hanging our hopes on a man, even if he is both gentle and his mother's son. But he came.

Exalt humans were more robust than Mean ones, but they were still human.

Tom and Ben were silent, tall pillars on either side of the poets and the Prince.

Unworthy? I think not, Wolfling. Pure as the will of the pack, thou art.

The whole world is a weapon.

Passion filled him, terrible and sweet, a craving as fierce as ever. It was not something one could turn on a courtesan-this wantom cupidity-and expect him to live. But another wampyr was not prey, was not a courtesan. Another wampyr was an equal and a rival, though David might be less than a quarter Sebastien's age, and quite capable of surviving his unalloyed strength.

If anything meant home and strength and heart and culture more to him than the New York Public Library lions, he couldn't have named it.

He did not think he'd ever seen her lie down to rest, or even claim a need for it.

She shrugged. More muscles, more rippling. More sparkles, like glitter flowing in water under moving lights.

She looked like a planetary: not tall, but her body bulky with high grav muscles, shoulders wide and sleeves of her coverall rolled up to show off sculpted forearms. She had a broad face with high, slanted cheekbones; coffee-dark eyes with a moderate fold, straight black hair chopped at the ear except for some longer locks, those dyed in fluttering streaks of red and gold.

Abby Irene smiled. And she did, Sebastien loved her, the brittle mortality and all its mad, fragile bravery.

My type of woman. Damn it to the Well.

The old ways-the old respect might no longer be enforced with terror, but enough of it lingered that Dust was no entirely bereft of hope for the future of Engine and the Conn family. They might have grown soft, but they had not entirely fallen apart.

Anything that Jack and Abby Irene could not manage together might just as likely be too much for Sebastien.

If I had had a soul it would have quailed.

Arms folded across her rib cage, chin drifted, Perceval could have been a statue labeled defiance.

He had, I thought, Morgan's hands: strong-fingered, capable.

It would have been amazing, indeed, if my mother could have resisted him. If any woman could.

It is perilous to admit weakness. It is even more perilous to lie to dragons.

I shook my head, cold air seeping through the holes in my ragged gown and my plait moving like a serpent against my spine.

She was continuing to develop and evolve. All she had ever needed was the resources to enrich herself, and the space in which to grow. She was so brave and so slight-and, okay, so glittery-that my eyes stung a little from looking at her.

Command was good her her, and she was good for it.

The news of Will's escape was enough to grant Kit new strength of intent. He'll come for me. He won't leave me here. He knew it, with the same calm certainty with which he'd known that he could not leave Will to take his own place in Hell.

For nothing on the waters and the wide wide world is fiercer than a mother.