Sheathed Quotes

“I sheathed my blade and glared at him. "And here I almost thought you weren't a complete bastard.""Well, that's your mistake, not mine.”

“After she was gone, I sheathed her sword at my belt, draped her cloak over my shoulders, carried her heart in my arms, and, somehow, went on.”

“I have felt cats rubbing their faces against mine and touching my cheek with claws carefully sheathed. These things, to me, are expressions of love.”

“Holding her gaze, he sheathed his short sword and pulled the gauntlet off his left hand with his teeth. He held out his bare hand t”

“All feminine claws, he said to himself, are sheathed in velvet; but they can hurt a good deal if they touch you on the sore places of the defects of your qualities--even merely with the velvet.”

“Zorro pulled her into his arms and crushed her against his body, kissing her soundly on the mouth. “My, what a big sword you have, sir,” she said, sweeping her hand over his sheathed sword. “I’m fully armed,” he said, “with that and more.”

“For the first time, they were seeing the dream beneath the flesh.Karla stared at the pointed ears that had come from the Dea al Mon, the hands with sheathed claws that had come from the Tigre, the hooves peeking out from beneath the black gown that could have come from the centaurs or the horses or the unicorns. Most of all, she stared at the tiny spiral horn.The living myth. Dreams made flesh. But, oh, had any of them really thought about who the dreamers had”

“Flames beaten by the Ocean's Rage; Shrouded in Molten Haze; Blithely sheathed in Splendor. An Angel rises from the Embers. Calming Waters brew Courage replete; Fear cowers at Bravery's feet. An Angel rises from the Embers. Enlightenment basks on the shore; Tidal waves gasp and roar; 'Quiet!' the Wind implores! Silence sings, and spirits soar... An Angel rises from the Embers.”

“Storm WarningsThe glass has been falling all the afternoon, And knowing better than the instrument What winds are walking overhead, what zone Of grey unrest is moving across the land, I leave the book upon a pillowed chair And walk from window to closed window, watching Boughs strain against the skyAnd think again, as often when the air Moves inward toward a silent core of waiting, How with a single purpose time has traveled By secret currents of the undiscerned Into this polar realm. Weather abroad And weather in the heart alike come on Regardless of prediction.Between foreseeing and averting change Lies all the mastery of elements Which clocks and weatherglasses cannot alter. Time in the hand is not control of time, Nor shattered fragments of an instrument A proof against the wind; the wind will rise, We can only close the shutters.I draw the curtains as the sky goes black And set a match to candles sheathed in glass Against the keyhole draught, the insistent whine Of weather through the unsealed aperture. This is our sole defense against the season; These are the things we have learned to do Who live in troubled regions.”