“You pigs, you. You rut like pigs, is all. You got the most in you, and you use the least. You hear me, you? Got a million in you and spend pennies. Got a genius in you and think crazies. Got a heart in you and feel empties. All a you. Every you ... '
[ ... ]
Take a war to make you spend. Take a jam to make you think. Take a challenge to make you great. Rest of the time you sit around lazy, you. Pigs, you! All right, God damn you! I challenge you, me. Die or live and be great. Blow yourselves to Christ gone or come and find me, Gully Foyle, and I make you men. I make you great. I give you the stars.”
— Alfred Bester
“Son of a whore, God damn you! can you tell
A peerless peer the readiest way to Hell?
I've outswilled Bacchus, sworn of my own make
Oaths would fright Furies, and make Pluto quake;
I've swived more whores more ways than Sodom's”
— John Wilmot
“When the fight ends you can afford to relax. That's the worst part. Winner or loser you have again eyes to see around you. Blood, butchered bodies, bodies pierced by arrows. You stir inside, your heart tightens, the feeling of loss wells up. The sense of smell is the next thing to revive, adding a new dimension of pain. I closed the eyes of the last cadet, blue eyes, unseeing, his body, so small, almost a child, the youngest cadets were all gone, their faces surprised in death. Cold lips never able again to kiss a girl. It's then that the emptiness swallows you and you mourn inside. Damn you, Scharon. No! Damn you, Travellers.”
— Florian Armas
“Did you think it was my intention to murder Whiskey Jack? Do you think I just cut down honourable men and loyal soldiers out of spite? ... They got in my way, damn you! Just as you're doing now! ...
The Tiste andii's faint smile nearly broke Kallor's heart. No, he understands. All to well. This will be his last battle, in Rake's name, and anyone's name.
Kallor drew out his sword. "Does it occur, to any of you, what these things do to me? No, of course not. the High King is cursed to fail, but never to fall. the High King is but ... What? Oh, the physical manifestiation of ambition. Walking proof of its inevitable price. Fine." he readied his two handed weapon.
"Fuck you, too".”
— Steven Erikson
“We are not going to decide this with a game of cards," Sebastian grout. "Besides, the decision has been made."
"Oh? Tristan arched a brow. "And who is it to be then?"
"You. You're the one who allowed her in here and then let her stay."
He'd expected his brother to protest. Instead, he simply gave up curt nod.
"Right, then. I'd best go ask for her hand while she still in London. Word is that her father sending her away."
He taken but two steps before Sebastian and ground out, "Damn you, Tristan. You know it will be me.”
— Lorraine Heath
“Although it seems shocking to say so, grief is a funny thing. On the one hand, you're numb, yet on the other, something inside is trying desperately to claw its way back to normal: to pull a funny face, to leap out like a jack-in-the-box, to say Smile, damn you, smile!”
— Alan Bradley
“My God, I have missed you!" he whispered. "You can't imagine what it's been like. In every drawing room where I have been a guest I've listened to the sound of rustling silk, and I've prayed that I could turn and see you there. And every damned night I've lain awake and thought of you, and even when I've slept, my dreams have been plagued by you. Every time I touched a woman's hair, it seemed coarse in my hands because it was not yours, it wasn't the color of fire, and it did not have the sheen of satin and the feel of velvet and silk. Words whispered have never been the same, you witch! Damn you. Damn you a thousand times over!”
— Heather Graham
“God damn, you were so beautiful, Mama.”
— Markus Zusak
“Now I want to kiss her even more.
Damn you! You just get more and more appealing.”
— M. Leighton
“We are piercing through the rumbling tumbling crowd and our arms are like the most precarious bridge, held together by that single, pulling clasp. I think, If she lets go, it's all over. If I let go, it's all over. And because she is holding on so tight, I hold on so tight. I am being jostled from all sides-I know there will be bruises tomorrow-but somehow this hand-hold is immune. Somehow we stay together. We are graced, and we are together, and the twoliness is trumping the loneliness and the doubt and the fear. We are making it through. Thank you, music. Damn you, memories. Thank you, present.”
— David Levithan
“Gods damn you, LOcke,'she whispered. The corners of her eyes glistened.
'Twice now? Look, uh, if I said the wrong thing
'
'No,' she said, wiping at her eyes, trying but failing to do so nonchalantly. 'No, the trouble is you said the right thing.”
— Scott Lynch
“Who are you, Martin Eden? he demanded of himself in the looking-
glass, that night when he got back to his room. He gazed at
himself long and curiously. Who are you? What are you? Where do
you belong? You belong by rights to girls like Lizzie Connolly.
You belong with the legions of toil, with all that is low, and
vulgar, and unbeautiful. You belong with the oxen and the drudges,
in dirty surroundings among smells and stenches. There are the
stale vegetables now. Those potatoes are rotting. Smell them,
damn you, smell them. And yet you dare to open the books, to
listen to beautiful music, to learn to love beautiful paintings, to
speak good English, to think thoughts that none of your own kind
thinks, to tear yourself away from the oxen and the Lizzie
Connollys and to love a pale spirit of a woman who is a million
miles beyond you and who lives in the stars! Who are you? and what
are you? damn you! And are you going to make good?”
— Jack London
“Damn you, Sassenach!" his voice said, from a very great distance. His voice was choked with passion. "Dam you! I swear if ye die on me, I'll kill you!”
— Diana Gabaldon
“I have nothing to offer you," he finally said in a guttural voice.
"Nothing."
Win's lips had turned dry. She moistened them, and tried to speak through a thrill of anxious trembling. "You have yourself," she whispered.
"You don't know me. You think you do, but you don't. The things I've done, the things I'm capable of
you and your family, all you know of life comes from books. If you understood anything
"
"Make me understand. Tell me what is so terrible that you must keep pushing me away."
He shook his head.
"Then stop torturing the both of us," she said unsteadily. "Leave me, or let me go."
"I can't," he snapped. "I can't, damn you." And before she could make a sound, he kissed her.”
— Lisa Kleypas
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