Firelight Quotes

“...my dreams are tangled in images of stars and clouds and firelight - we go camping at night - it's my lucid dream of being with you...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“What is beauty or ugliness but a false front that prompts man to make assumptions rather than delving deeper.”
― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

“Because we know he was simply a man, with weakness and frailties.
Who yearned for the same things all of us do--to love and be loved”
― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

“So what's the deal with you and my sister?"
He laughs shortly and rubs the back of his neck like something is there, tickling, tapping.
"Tamra." Clutching the dashboard, I turn and glare at her. "There is no deal."
She snorts. "Well, we wouldn't be sitting here if that was the case now, would we?"
I open my mouth to demand she end the interrogation when Will's voice stops me.
"I like your sister. A lot."
I look at him dumbly.
He looks at me, lowers his voice to say, "I like you."
I know that, I guess, but heat still crawls over my face. I swing forward in my seat, cross my arms over my chest and stare straight ahead. Can't stop shivering. Can't speak. My throat hurts too much.
"Jacinda," he says.
"I think you've shocked her," Tamra offers, then sighs.”
― Sophie Jordan, Firelight

“The whole of my life I have relied on my beauty first, brains second.
It was expected, even requested. But You saw right through me from the start.
You are the only man I've ever known who has looked beyond my face and wanted to know me for me.
And I find myself wanting you to know the whole me.”
― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

“With the suddneness of a cat leaping upon its prey, he leaned forward and caught up her wrist. "Tread lightly, Miranda Fair." His thumb moved lightly over her fluttering pulse, as she stared with her mouth assuredly hanging open in shock, her heart beating furiously within her breast."You know, it's never wise to tempt the devil." His gaze lowered to her hand, still locked in his grip, her fingers glistening with pear juice. "Had I not this mask, I should be of a mind to suck that juice right off of your fingers.”
― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

“His chin jutted forward in a rather pugnacious manner. "I should not have to explain myself to my wife."

"And I should not have to ask for an explanation. Yet here we are.”
― Kristen Callihan

“Don't stay away from me anymore."
I stop myself, just barely, from telling him I won't. I can't promise that. Can't lie.
He opens his eyes. Stares starkly, bleakly. "I need you.”
― Sophie Jordan, Firelight

“We remember though all the firelit glow
Of a great hearth's gleam and glare,
And we looked for a space at each happy face
And the love that was written there.”
― Caris Brooke

“I feel you," he said, "whether stalking me through the streets of London, or hiding behind a screen in my library.”
― Kristen Callihan

“But you're worried I'll get in trouble?" I try not to show how much this pleases me. I've managed to ignore him for days now and here I sit. Lapping up his attention like a neglected puppy. My voice takes on an edge. "Why do you care? I've ignored you for days."
His smile fades. He looks serious, mockingly so. "Yeah. You got to stop that.”
― Sophie Jordan, Firelight

“She ought to call him Benjamin, but it was too intimate, too soft.
"My lord?" she ventured, only half serious.
"Good, God, no."
She bit back a smile. "Husband?" she took a sip of wine.
He grunted. "Are we to become Quakers?”
― Kristen Callihan

“You know, it's never wise to tempt the devil"
His gaze lowered to her hand, still locked in his grip, her finger glistening with pear juice.
His rich voice lowered to raw huskiness "had I not this mask, I should be of a mind to suck that juice right off your fingers”
― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

“The rich smell of the rose was almost visible; I fancied it lent a rosy edge to the shadows cast by the firelight.”
― Robin McKinley, Beauty: A Retelling of the Story of Beauty and the Beast

“The studio was immense and gloomy, the sole light within it proceeding from a stove, around which the three were seated. Although they were bold, and of the age when men are most jovial, the conversation had taken, in spite of their efforts to the contrary, a reflection from the dull weather without, and their jokes and frivolity were soon exhausted.

In addition to the light which issued from the crannies in the stove, there was another emitted from a bowl of spirits, which was ceaselessly stirred by one of the young men, as he poured from an antique silver ladle some of the flaming spirit into the quaint old glasses from which the students drank. The blue flame of the spirit lighted up in a wild and fantastic manner the surrounding objects in the room, so that the heads of old prophets, of satyrs, or Madonnas, clothed in the same ghastly hue, seemed to move and to dance along the walls like a fantastic procession of the dead; and the vast room, which in the day time sparkled with the creations of genius, seemed now, in its alternate darkness and sulphuric light, to be peopled with its dreams.

Each time also that the silver spoon agitated the liquid, strange shadows traced themselves along the walls, hideous and of fantastic form. Unearthly tints spread also upon the hangings of the studio, from the old bearded prophet of Michael Angelo to those eccentric caricatures which the artist had scrawled upon his walls, and which resembled an army of demons that one sees in a dream, or such as Goya has painted; whilst the lull and rise of the tempest without but added to the fantastic and nervous feeling which pervaded those within.

Besides this, to add to the terror which was creeping over the three occupants of the room, each time that they looked at each other they appeared with faces of a blue tone, with eyes fixed and glittering like live embers, and with pale lips and sunken cheeks; but the most fearful object of all was that of a plaster mask taken from the face of an intimate friend but lately dead, which, hanging near the window, let the light from the spirit fall upon its face, turned three parts towards them, which gave it a strange, vivid, and mocking expression.

All people have felt the influence of large and dark rooms, such as Hoffmann has portrayed and Rembrandt has painted; and all the world has experienced those wild and unaccountable terrors - panics without a cause - which seize on one like a spontaneous fever, at the sight of objects to which a stray glimpse of the moon or a feeble ray from a lamp gives a mysterious form; nay, all, we should imagine, have at some period of their lives found themselves by the side of a friend, in a dark and dismal chamber, listening to some wild story, which so enchains them, that although the mere lighting of a candle could put an end to their terror, they would not do so; so much need has the human heart of emotions, whether they be true or false.

So it was upon the evening mentioned. The conversation of the three companions never took a direct line, but followed all the phases of their thoughts; sometimes it was light as the smoke which curled from their cigars, then for a moment fantastic as the flame of the burning spirit, and then again dark, lurid, and sombre as the smile which lit up the mask from their dead friend's face.

At last the conversation ceased altogether, and the respiration of the smokers was the only sound heard; and their cigars glowed in the dark, like Will-of-the-wisps brooding o'er a stagnant pool.

It was evident to them all, that the first who should break the silence, even if he spoke in jest, would cause in the hearts of the others a start and tremor, for each felt that he had almost unwittingly plunged into a ghastly reverie. ("The Dead Man's Story")”
― James Hain Friswell

“He couldn't remember the last time human hands had willingly touched him.
Not true. Miranda had. She had touched him as if he were just a man.
He had lived on those moments ever since, pulled them to the fore when loneliness threatened to suck him down and drown him”
― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

“There were lies, and there were lies. Was a secret a lie? If one wanted to protect another?”
― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

“The firelight shone upon his exposed fangs, and I wondered how they'd feel on my throat, and how loudly my sisters would scream before they, too, died.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“The firelight danced on his mask, warming the gold, setting the emeralds glinting. Such colour and variation- colours I didn't know the names of, colours I wanted to catalog and weave together. Colours I had no reason not to explore now.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Later that morning, Irena's official Instagram posted a picture of Irena onstage, wearing a red dress, strappy heels, and an orange shawl that she spread out like wings. She was standing in front of a spotlight, and her outline glowed, and in its fineness, the image of her shawl was made up almost exclusively of light.”
― Jennifer Croft, The Extinction of Irena Rey