Quotes About Room

Even the shadows on the walls were silent, while the two of them looked at each other as if they'd just sat on a whoopee cushion," said Xemerius, coming down from the chandelier and flying after us. "Romantic violin music began to play as the girl in the piss-yellow blouse and the boy who badly needed a haircut walked out of the room side by side.

What did Grayson's room smell of this evening?" I asked through the mailbox slit. "The bottle of cologne that Grayson dropped on the rug, which is probably going to smell like his grandfather forever now," replied Henry on the other side of the door." I bet he dreams of him tonight." I opened the door. Henry had propped one hand against the frame and was grinning at me.

The last of the warm Christmassy feeling seemed to leave the room, and there she stood in the doorway: the Beast in Ocher. Also known as "the she-devil with the Hermès scarf," in ordinary life Philippa Adelaide Spencer, or Granny, as Grayson and Florence called her. Apparently her friends at the bridge club knew her as Peachy Pippa, but I wasn't going to believe that until I heard it with my own ears.

The small room was furnished with little more than odd smells and disappointment.

A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you.

whoever waited within. "Captain Lionel Redmayne, sir." Unholy pleasure edged the man's voice, setting every nerve in Lion's body stinging with wariness. But Lion only strode into the room with the

Why couldn't she be part of that family? rent a room in someone else's life.

I kept my life in a small room with pale blue walls and brought it back little presents from the world This is for you I would say This is for you

Whatever you may be missing right now - a person, a place, a feeling, maybe you are injured and missing running - whatever it is, have peace and take heart - remember that any goodbye makes room for a hello.

What's this?" she asked as she walked into the room. "The last part of my apology and the first part of my seduction.

Each journey is unique, and each seeker charts a new path. But it is infinitely easier to do so having at least some knowledge about the experiences of those who have gone before. When we learn about the many different heroic paths available to us, we understand that there is room for all of us to be heroic in our own unique ways.

MY, you have a way of making me do things I don't normally do. I haven't dressed up for Halloween since the third grade (Spiderman), and though it's gotten harder over the years, I've managed to silently protest that whore of a holiday for the bulk of my life. Yet here I am in a mothball-scented dressing room at Bridgeport Costumes. The dressing room is so small that a fucking Smurf would be sweating.

The quality of light just before dusk on a clear winter day is loaded with poignancy. My mother had called it "the blue hour," when melancholy slips into a room unnoticed and touches everything with a sprinkling of pain.

That's one thing I like about you, Sarah Booth. You put your own personal style on a room. I'd call this boudoir pigsty. Yes sir, any man would find this an enticin' little love nest, if he didn't break his neck tryin' to get to the bed.

Miss Edith Clay brightened the room with her presence. Just from walking through the door, she'd made the room a happier place. This was true despite his having spent the last several months assuring himself his recollection of her had to be incorrect. His recollection was not incorrect. It was appallingly accurate.

My name is Herondale," the boy said cheerfully. "William Herondale, but everyone calls me Will. Is this really your room? Not very nice, is it?" He wandered toward the window, pausing to examine the stacks of books on her bedside table, and then the bed itself. He waved a hand at the ropes. "Do you often sleep tied to the bed?

I see you're determined to miss my point." "If you're point is that there was a pretty girl in the room and it was distracting you, then I think I've taken your point handily." "You think she's pretty?" Will was surprised; Jem rarely opinioned this sort of thing. "Yes, and you do too." "I hadn't noticed, really." "Yes, you have, and I've noticed you noticing.

Tyrion Lannister could not have been more astonished if Aegon the Conqueror himself had burst into the room, riding on a dragon and juggling lemon pies.

Sansa felt as though she were in a dream. "Joffrey is dead," she told the trees, to see if that would wake her. He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The

she whispered. Robb looked at her as if she'd gone mad. "Mother, stay here. I'll come back as soon as the fire's out." He ran then. She heard him shout to the guards outside the room, heard them descending together in a wild rush, taking the stairs two and three at a time.

Asha climbed quickly, to the fifth story and the room where her uncle read. Not that there are any rooms where he does not read. Lord Rodrik was seldom seen without a book in hand, be it in the privy, on the deck of his Sea Song, or whilst holding audience. Asha had oft seen him reading on his high seat beneath the silver scythes. He would listen to each case as it was laid before him, pronounce his judgment . . . and read a bit whilst his captain-of-guards went to bring in the next supplicant.

But lest some unlucky event should happen unfavorable to my reputation, I beg it may be remembered by every gentleman in the room that I this day declare with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with.

Bartholomeus went on, 'I wanted to show that these objects are sensitive, suffer at the coming of night, faint at the departure of the last rays, which, by the way, also live in this room; they suffer as much, they fight against the darkness. There you have it. It's the life of things, if you like. The French would call it a nature morte, a picture of inanimate objects. That is not what I'm trying to show. Flemish puts it better: a still life.

Lyonesse stared wide-eyed at Lynet's hand and swallowed hard. Lynet realized that she was still holding the carving knife and had been pointing it at Lyonesse's breast. She laid the knife down slowly and gathered a few plates of food. "I'll take the rest of my dinner in my room, I think," she said.