Best 93 quotes in «simon quotes» category

Annabelle’s eyes stung as she stared at him, while need and inexhaustible tenderness gathered like an ache in her body. “I realized something,” she said huskily, “when I was standing outside the foundry, watching it burn and knowing you were inside.” She swallowed hard against the thickness in her throat. “I would rather have died in your arms, Simon, than face a lifetime without you. All those endless years… all those winters, summers… a hundred seasons of wanting you and never having you. Growing old, while you stayed eternally young in my memories.” She bit her lip and shook her head, while her eyes flooded. “I was wrong when I told you that I didn’t know where I belonged. I do. With you, Simon. Nothing matters except being with you. You’re stuck with me forever, and I’ll never listen when you tell me to go.” She managed a tremulous smile. “So you may as well stop complaining and resign yourself to it.

As Simon went to see if Andrew was up, I wandered into the kitchen, where Derek was eyeing a rusty can of beans. "That hungry?" I said. "I will be soon." He prowled the kitchen, flipping open cupboards. "So you don't want me asking Andrew about that kid?" I said. "You trust him, though, right?" "Sure." He took down a box of crackers and turned it over, looking for a 'best before' date. *** "Is he drinking the ketchup yet?" Simon swung into the kitchen. "Ten minutes, bro. Andrew's on his way—

And you know what? You don’t get to say it’s not a big thing. This is a big fucking thing, okay? This was supposed to be—this is mine. I’m supposed to decide when and where and who knows and how I want to say it.” Suddenly, my throat gets thick. “So, yeah, you took that from me. And then you brought Blue into it? Seriously? You fucking suck, Martin. I mean, I don’t even want to look at you.

A soft poke at my shoulder blade startled me. "Still jumpy, I see." I spun to see Simon, Derek hanging back behind him. Simon grinned, the sight as familiar as Derek's scowl. "Got my note, I hear," he said. I pulled it out and waved it. He plucked it from my fingers and tucked it into my jacket pocket.

As we sat, Derek pulled a handful of energy bars from his pocket, and gave me one. "Oh, right. You must be starving." Simon reached into his pockets. "I can offer one bruised apple and one brown banana." *** "You guys are weird," Tori said. Simon sat on the crate beside me. "That's right. We are totally weird and completely uncool. Your popularity is plummeting just by being near us. So why don't you—" "Chloe?" Derek interrupted. "How's your arm?" "Her—?" Simon swore under his breath. "Way to keep showing me up. First, food. Now her arm." He turned to me. "How is it?"

A whisper of fabric as Derek dressed. Then a hand on my waist, a light touch, tentative. I turned and Derek was right there, his face above mine, hands sliding around me as I titled my face up— "What the—?" We both jumped—again. Tori stood there, staring at us, Simon behind her, grabbing her arm. "I told you not to—" Simon began. "Yeah, but you didn't say why. I sure didn't expect..." She shook her head. "Am I the last one to know everything around here?" Liz raced in. "What's going on?" "Derek's ready," I said. "We need to move."

Becoming aware of her presence in the doorway, the men looked up. Westcliff rose from his half-seated position on the desk. “My lord,” Daisy said, “if I might have a word with you?” Although she spoke calmly, something in her expression must have alerted him. He didn’t waste a second in coming to her. “Yes, Daisy?” “It’s about my sister,” she whispered. “It seems her labor has started.” She had never seen the earl look so utterly taken aback. “It’s too early,” he said. “Apparently the baby doesn’t think so.” “But…this is off-schedule.” The earl seemed genuinely baffled that his child would have failed to consult the calendar before arriving. “Not necessarily,” Daisy replied reasonably. “It’s possible the doctor misjudged the date of the baby’s birth. Ultimately it’s only a matter of guesswork.” Westcliff scowled. “I expected far more accuracy than this! It’s nearly a month before the projected…” A new thought occurred to him, and he turned skull-white. “Is the baby premature?” Although Daisy had entertained a few private concerns about that, she shook her head immediately. “Some women show more than others, some less. And my sister is very slender. I’m sure the baby is fine.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Lillian has had pains for the past four or five hours, and now they’re coming every ten minutes or so, which Annabelle says—” “She’s been in labor for hours and no one told me?” Westcliff demanded in outrage. “Well, it’s not technically labor unless the intervals between the pains are regular, and she said she didn’t want to bother you until—” Westcliff let out a curse that startled Daisy. He turned to point a commanding but unsteady finger at Simon Hunt. “Doctor,” he barked, and took off at a dead run. Simon Hunt appeared unsurprised by Westcliff’s primitive behavior. “Poor fellow,” he said with a slight smile, reaching over the desk to slide a pen back into its holder.

But you've never drunk fresh blood. Have you?" Simon raised his own eyebrows in response. "Well, aside from mine, of course," Jace said. "And I'm sure my blood is fan-tastic." Simon set the empty flask down on the arm of the chair by the bed. "There's something very wrong with you," he said. "Mentally, I mean.

Chloe. Always Chloe with him and his brother. I know I sound like a whiny brat when I complain, but I think I have a good reason. I’d just discovered that I was a witch and my mother was a bitch—the murderous kind. I was now on the run with three kids who didn’t want me along. No matter how hard I tried to keep up and help out, the guys only cared about Chloe. If I ran in front of this bus to push her to safety, they’d race to her side to see if she was okay. Probably give me crap for bruising her when I shoved her out of the way.

Clary?" he thought. Her voice came through, tinged with alarm. "What is it? What's happened? Did my mom find out I'm gone?" "Not yet," he thought back. "Is Azazel the cat from the Smurfs?" There was a long pause. "That's Azrael, Simon. And no more using the magic rings for Smurfs question.

Don't waste my time with sorries, Simon. If we stop to apologize and forgive each other every time we step on each other's toes, we'll never have time to be friends.

– Ele é homem – disse Leonie. – O que foi que Byron disse sobre homens e mulheres apaixonados? (…) – “Na vida do homem, o amor é uma coisa à parte; na da mulher, é toda a vida” – citou ele.

En la justicia. En el coraje. En la defensa del débil. A la vista de los poderosos. A través de la magia, la sabiduría y el bien.

Enough, Snow, I'm not the Queen.

A voice: “My goodness, Nurse Jones.” I look up, startled. Simon’s in the doorway, leaning against the frame, smiling. No doubt I’m quite the sight in my bloody, sexy nurse’s outfit, sitting on a bed next to a tied-up, taped-up target. “Oh, please.” I collect my purse, my phone and my stun gun and walk around the bed. Simon’s smile reaches deep into his dark blue eyes. He has a long face and delicate features for a man. I grab the sleeve of his black jacket and pull him into the outer room. “What the fuck are you wearing? You look insane,” he says. “This? This is the creepy outfit the Alchemist put me in after he kidnapped me.” Simon stops smiling. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.

Backup?" Tori said. "You mean he didn't need that?" "Apparently not," I murmured. Simon looked from her to me, confused, then understanding. "You guys thought..." "That if you didn't get your medicine in the next twenty-four hours, you'd be dead?" I said. "Not exactly, but close. You know, the old 'upping the ante with a fatal disease that needs medication' twist. Apparently, it still works." "Kind of a letdown, then, huh?" "No kidding. Here we were, expecting to find you minutes from death. Look at you, not even gasping." "All right, then. Emergency medical situation, take two." He leaped to his feet, staggered, keeled over, then lifted his head weakly. "Chloe? Is that you?" He coughed. "Do you have my insulin?" I placed it in his outstretched hand. "You saved my life," he said. "How can I ever repay you?" "Undying servitude sounds good. I like my eggs scrambled." He held up a piece of fruit. "Would you settle for a bruised apple?

But then it was over too quickly and they pulled away. She knew they couldn't stand there and kiss like a couple on the run in a thriller.

Daisy has a unique spirit,” Westcliff said. “A warm and romantic nature. If she is forced into a loveless marriage, she will be devastated. She deserves a husband who will cherish her for everything she is, and who will protect her from the harsher realities of the world. A husband who will allow her to dream.” It was surprising to hear such sentiment from Westcliff, who was universally known as a pragmatic and level-headed man. “What is your question, my lord?” Matthew asked. “Will you give me your word that you will not marry my sister-in-law?” Matthew held the earl’s cold black gaze. It would not be wise to cross a man like Westcliff, who was not accustomed to being denied. But Matthew had endured years of Thomas Bowman’s thunder and bluster, standing up to him when other men would flee in fear of his wrath. Although Bowman could be a ruthless, sarcastic bully there was nothing he respected more than a man who was willing to go toe-to-toe with him. And so it had quickly become Matthew’s lot in the company to be the bearer of bad tidings and deliver the hard truths that everyone else was afraid to give him. That had been Matthew’s training, which was why Westcliff’s attempt at domination had no effect on him. “I’m afraid not, my lord,” Matthew said politely. Simon Hunt dropped his cigar. “You won’t give me your word?” Westcliff asked in disbelief. “No.” Matthew bent swiftly to retrieve the fallen cigar and returned it to Hunt, who regarded him with a glint of warning in his eyes as if he were silently trying to prevent him from jumping off a cliff. “Why not?” Westcliff demanded. “Because you don’t want to lose your position with Bowman?” “No, he can’t afford to lose me right now.” Matthew smiled slightly in an attempt to rob the words of arrogance. “I know more about production, administration, and marketing than anyone else at Bowman’s…and I’ve earned the old man’s trust. So I won’t be dismissed even if I refuse to marry his daughter.” “Then it will be quite simple for you to put the entire matter to rest,” the earl said. “I want your word, Swift. Now.” A lesser man would have been intimidated by Westcliff’s authoritative demand. “I might consider it,” Matthew countered coolly, “if you offered the right incentive. For example, if you promise to endorse me as the head of the entire division and guarantee the position for at least, say…three years.” Westcliff gave him an incredulous glance. The tense silence was broken as Simon Hunt roared with laughter. “By God, he has brass ballocks,” he exclaimed. “Mark my words, Westcliff, I’m going to hire him for Consolidated.” “I’m not cheap,” Matthew said, which caused Hunt to laugh so hard that he nearly dropped his cigar again. Even Westcliff smiled, albeit reluctantly. “Damn it,” he muttered. “I’m not going to endorse you so readily—not with so much at stake. Not until I am convinced you’re the right man for the position.” “Then it seems we’re at an impasse.” Matthew made his expression friendly. “For now.

(Derek) "No casting? No practicing?" He shook his head. "Don't tell Simon that." "Don't tell Simon what?" said a voice behind us. We turned to see Simon step out of the doorway. "That Tori doesn't need to use incantations to cast," Derek said. "Seriously?" He swore. "You're right. Don't tell me." He picked his way across the roof. "Better yet, don't tell her that I need incantations and weeks of practice, and I still suck."

Derek stopped short. I smacked into his back—not for the first time, since he insisted on walking in front of me. I'd been tripping on his heels and mumbling apologies the whole way. When I'd slow down to let him get farther ahead, he'd snap at me to keep up. "We're almost there," Simon said. He was behind me—sticking to the curbside, walking as close as Derek. While normally I wouldn't complain about Simon being so close, I had the weird sensation of being blocked in. As we started forward again, I tried dropping back with Tori, who lagged behind, but Simon put his finger on my elbow and steered me back into place. "Okay," I said. "Something's up. What's with the walking blockade?" "They're protecting you," Tori said. "Shielding you from the big bad world."

Det var elskverdige og flinke Mennesker, de bedste af dem, der syslede meget net og praktisk med forskellige Ting. Men der var ikke een, der havde en Idé, hvor han stillede sig op og prøvede at rokke Jorden, ja der var vel ikke een, der følte Savnet af en saadan Idé.

Do you think you love that fellow?" "I don't know." She closed her eyes, but the tears overflowed nevertheless. "All I know is that he opened a door into a whole new world I never even knew existed. I've stepped through that door, and I cant return. (...) Its like being blind from birth and then one day suddenly being able to see. And not just see, but to witness the sun rising in all her glory across the azure sky. The dusky lavenders and blues lightening to pinks and reds, spreading across the horizon until the entire earth is lit. Until one has to blink and fall to ones knees in awe at the light. (...) Even if one were to be made blind again in the next instant, one would ever after remember and know what was missed. What could be.

Have a shower, Si," George urged. "Start the day refreshed. Maybe style your hair a little. It wouldn't kill you." Simon shook his head. "There's a dead rat in the bathroom, George. I am not going in the bathroom, George." "He's not dead," George said. "He's sleeping. I'm certain of it." "Senseless optimism is how plagues get started," Simon said. "Ask the medieval peasants of Europe. Oh, wait, you can't." "Were they a jolly bunch?" George asked skeptically. "I'm sure they were much jollier before all the plague," said Simon.

He didn't understand why everyone fussed about taking clean clothes out of a drawer. Underclothes smelled a lot more interesting after the female wore them.

He gently kissed that scar and felt something changing inside him - just a flutter of change, there and gone, but leaving its mark.

He looks at my face and huffs, exasperated. "Baz, you're actually, literally the only thing I have to lose. So as long as doing gay stuff in public doesn't make you hate me, I don't really care." "We're just dancing," I say. "That's hardly gay stuff." "Dancing's well gay," he says. "Even when it isn't two blokes.

I could use the fresh air. I think that put my brain to sleep.” She pointed at the text as if it was a piece of rotten meat. “Physics?” I said. “You must need a more advanced text.” “No, it’s just boring.” I picked the book up and double checked the title, to make sure I hadn’t misidentified the subject. “Boring?” I said. “How can physics be …?” I looked up to see she’d already left the room. Simon pointed at the text, grinned and faked a yawn. “Hold on,” I said, striding after her. “Physics is not boring. Maybe you just need me to explain it better. Chloe? Chloe!

I must have been sound asleep if I missed all that shouting," SImon said. "What shouting?" Derek said. "You mean that Chloe just told you that she followed a ghost onto a roof, and you didn't blast her all the way to Canada?

Giggler, I think I hate you most of all.

He's still looking in my eyes. Staring me down like he did that dragon, chin tilted and locked. "I'm not the Chosen One," he says. I meet his gaze and sneer. My arm is a steel band around his waist. "I choose you," I say. "Simon Snow, I choose you.

He swallows. Snow has the longest neck and the showiest swallow I've ever seen. His chin juts out and his Adam's apple catches - it's a whole scene.

How can you be like this?' I whisper. 'How can you even trust me, after everything?' 'I'm not sure I do trust you,' he whispers back. He reaches out with his other hand and touches my stomach. I feel it drop to the floor. (My stomach, that is.) 'But...' He shrugs. He's rubbing my stomach, and I close my eyes-because it feels good. (So good.) And also because I want him to kiss me again.

“Chloe isn’t flirting with that guy,” Simon said. “Course not.” “I mean it. She’s—” I glanced back at him. “I’m not blind. She’s only paying enough attention to him to be polite. He’s the one flirting, which is bugging her and that’s why I’m pissed off. She’s trying to eat her fries and he’s interrupting.” Simon chuckled.

I don’t want to feed on my friends’ blood.” “Why not?” Jace stepped past the fire and looked down at Simon; his expression was open and curious. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we? Last time you were starving, I gave you my blood. It was a little homoerotic, maybe, but I’m secure in my sexuality.

I got in trouble for fondling buns,” he whispered.

I'm really glad you found me," my voice cracking. Simon squeezed my hand. His lips lowering to my ear, whispering, "I—" He went rigid, head lifting. "Hey, Simon," Tori said behind me. "What is she doing here?" Derek jabbed his thumb at me. "Ask her. I'm not getting any answers.

It's me," whispered a familiar voice. "Der—" Thwack. He stumbled, Liz behind him, a sturdy branch raised. "Liz, it's—" She hit him again, a home-run swing between the shoulders, and he went down with an oomph and an oath. She recognized the voice—or the curse—and leaned over, getting a look at him. (Liz) "Whoops." (Simon) "I'd say he deserved that, always sneaking up on people.

I think Mr. Thierry wants to speak to Derek alone.” “Why? I was the one trying to start a fight.” “Now, Simon . . .” Thierry said. “I was. Derek refused, so I said, ‘Bring it on.’ ” The secretary blocked Simon as I followed Thierry into the office. As the door closed, I heard her whisper, “I think it’s very sweet, sticking up for your brother like that.” “I’m not trying to be sweet," Simon said, raising his voice so Thierry could hear. “I’m trying to be fair. But apparently no one’s interested in that.

"It's a workshop. Nothing but tools." "So why would it be locked?" I asked. "I'd love to say it's suspicious," SImon said. "But if this Banks guy had kids around, then I'm not surprised. My dad isn't exactly Mr. Handyman, but he kept a lock on his toolbox. You know parents, Paranoid." "Yeah," Derek said. "Especially after their son flattens his fingers trying to nail a drawing to the wall." "Hey, I'm not the genius who suggested it." Simon glanced at me. "Tape wouldn't hold it, and Science Guy explained that the paper was too heavy for the adhesive. So I got some nails." Derek rolled his eyes.

"It was hot at the restaurant," I said. "So I rolled up my sleeves." "What?" I pushed my left one up, showing four bruises, dark as ink spots. Simon paled. "My aunt wanted to know what happened. When I wouldn't tell her, she tricked me into admitting it was a boy. She met Derek this morning and he was rude, so she decided it had to be him. I never confirmed it. If he's in trouble, it is not my fault. I had every right to tell someone and I didn't." "Okay, okay." He rubbed his mouth, still staring at my arm. "So he grabbed your arm. That's what it looks like. Right? He just grabbed harder than he thought." "He threw me across the room." Simon's eyes widened, then he lowered his lids to hide his surprise. "But he didn't mean to. If you saw how freaked out he was last night, you'd know that." "So that makes it okay? If I lose my temper and smack you, it's all right, because I didn't mean to, didn't plan to." "You don't understand. He just—" "She's right." Derek's voice preceded him around the corner. I shrank back. I couldn't help it. As I did, a look passed through Derek's eyes. Remorse? Guilt? He blinked it away.

Its your decision, Simon Lewis," said Magnus. "Remain in the existence you have, go to college, study music, get married. Live your life. Or---you can have an uncertain life of shadows and dangers. You can have the joy of reading the stories of incredible happenings, or you can be part of the story." "The choice is up to you

It's you, " I say. "I know I'm late," he says.

"Was it okay?" he asked. I smiled. "Better than okay." "So I won my pass to date two?" "You did." "Good" His face lowered toward mine and I knew what was coming. I knew it. But when his lips touched mine, I still jumped. "S-sorry, I—I" "Skittish as a cat," he murmured.

“Watching my back? Like you watched Chloe’s with those gangbangers?” “That was a mistake. I was running and I thought she was right behind me.” “Did you check?” “What?” “Did you check?” he repeated. “One glance over your shoulder to make sure she was still there?” I didn’t answer. He shook his head. “I’m not accusing you of letting that girl grab Chloe so you could get away. I’m not accusing you of seeing her in trouble and deciding to do nothing about it. I know you didn’t look back. You never thought of it.” “I was scared, okay? You want me to admit that? Fine.” “Chloe would have looked back for you.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course she would. Because Chloe is good and perfect.” “No, because she thinks of others. I would have looked back, too, if you were behind me. Even Derek would have. Why? Because we’re a team now. We need to have each other’s backs. No matter what.

We're your official search party," Tori said. Complete with bloodhound." She waved at Derek, who was brushing off his jeans. "I left a note," I said to Derek. "I told you whee I was going and what was doing." "He got it," Simon said. "Didn't matter." Derek glowered. "You think leaving a note makes it okay to do something—" "Don't say stupid," I warned. "Why not? It was stupid." Simon winced and murmured, "Ease off, bro." "That's okay," I said. "I'm used to it." I looked up at Derek. He wavered for a second, then crossed his arms, jaw setting. "It was stupid," he said. Risky and dangerous. Those guys could be out here with guns—

Will you for_me? I stared at the two hands, trying to figure out the missing word until a loud sigh came through the door. "Either the answer is no or my drawing sucks." "Hold on." I quickly dressed and opened the door. Simon was leaning against the wall. "So?" he said. "I'm having trouble with one part." I pointed to the hands. "Give," he said. "Ah." I read the note. "Will you for...forgive me? I looked up at him. "I think that's supposed to be my question." "No, you did the right thing. You realized it wasn't what you wanted, and you said no. I'm the jerk who stomped off and left you alone in the forest. I'm sorry. Really sorry." He paused. "So...are we okay?" Relief made my knees wobble. "We're okay. But I am sor—" He held up a hand to cut me off. "I can't get mad at you for confirming something I already suspected. I gave it a shot. I didn't work out. I'm not going to say I'm fine with that, but..." He shrugged. "I like you, Chloe. And it's not a girlfriend-or-nothing kind of like, so I'm hoping we can skip the we-tried-dating-and-it-blew stage and jump straight back to where we were, if you want that." "I want that."

Next time he summons me like a half-asred squirrel demon," I said,"I'll tell him so!

Patience, grasshopper," said Maia. "Good things come to those who wait." "I always thought that was 'Good things come to those who do the wave,'" said Simon. No wonder I've been confused all my life." "'Confused is a nice word for it," said Jace

Simon rolled his eyes. “It’s a good thing we know the person who’s dating Magnus Bane,” he said. “Otherwise, I get the feeling we’d all just lie around all the time wondering what the hell to do next. Or trying to raise the money to hire him by selling lemonade or something.” Alec looked merely irritated by this comment. “The only way you could raise enough money to hire Magnus by selling lemonade is if you put meth in it.

Simon, you gave me no water to wash my feet, but this woman as washed them with her tears. You gave me no kiss, but she has not ceased to kiss my feet. Do no reproach her Simon for you did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed me for my burial.