Solangelo Quotes Novels & Stories

Her hatred for him suppressed that damn fear. “Well, I wouldn't miss your birthday for the world,” Solana said, glancing quickly at the steward who appeared by her side with a fresh tray of Moscato. He held it out. “One less year for you to remain on this earth. Thrilling enough for me to drink to that, don't you think?”

“What makes you not speak, tesoro mio?” “You’ve beaten him up before coming here. Of course, he’d be exhausted.” Sol answered, resisting a smile. I then let him go and stood straight. “Well, then… I guess the floor is all yours, Sol.” “I admit though. I feel as if I’m losing my touch. I find this not as enjoyable as before.” A small smile leaked from my lips. “I suggest you speak now, ragazzo. Torture is Cara’s most favorite sport. You’ll regret not talking.”

"Tell me your story, Solas." Solas turned away, unwilling to share his pain with her. "You are nothing to me," he said coldly. "Just another sacrifice. Remember that." He walked to the edge of the pond and stared into the water, trying to regain his composure. Her presence was a constant irritation, a reminder of everything he had lost. Yet, despite his anger, he found himself unable to kill her. Not yet. He needed to understand why she wasn't afraid, why she faced him with such quiet strength.

"And so does yours." I chuckled sarcastically. "Everyone's does," I replied. "We may have failed to extract information from you, but I think these people will handle you better." "If we make it to our destination," she mused, tilting her head to the side. "Your enemies aren't as compassionate as you. They would bring anyone down, even if it costs them everything. You've stirred the devil from its lair." "You're referring to the Solons, right?" "How many enemies have you made in this life, Mr. Montero? A whole family? Tens? Hundreds? Regardless of the number, I think you already know where this is headed."

*Soleil* I have only just stepped onto the bike trail along the main road when the last buzz leaves me. Now when I no longer have Siri’s comforting mental blanket wrapped around me the repressed feelings start to lash at me like a whip. I stagger into a bus stop, and slump down on the bench. It is impossible to keep a single thought. Guilt, impotence and disgust fighting to take me over, until they form a United front against me, like a big flashing neon sign; It is all Sol’s fault.

‘This is the life’ Jackie closed her eyes and took a long drink of her wine, ‘I think I am going to enjoy it here’ Dawn grinned as a group of young Italian guys sauntered over, Penso che a Dio manchino quattro dei suoi angeli più belli. Possiamo unirci a te e offrirti da bere?' [I think God is missing four of his most beautiful Angels. May we join you and buy you a drink?] Melissa laughed out loud, ‘lo adorerò qui' [I am going to love it here’] She replied in perfect Italian as the young men sat down.

OWEN "You must either be a damn fool or a man with a death wish." I leaned back in my chair, my eyes locked on Joan Castellanos as I made myself comfortable. "I wonder what should be written on your gravestone ‘Here lies Joan Castellanos, unbelievably stupid, suicidally bold, and just dumb enough to walk into the lion’s den with a smile on his face’?" I smirked. "Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?"

Julian said, bowing low. ​As Julian led the children away, Solas turned back to me. He leaned in, his scent—incense and sun-scorched stone—filling my lungs. ​"You are quiet, Elena," he whispered. "Are you afraid?" ​"I am... overwhelmed, Great Sun," I said, my voice trembling perfectly. ​"Good," Solas smiled. "Fear is the beginning of devotion. Come. I have much to show you. And much to take from you."

"Let this be a reminder." "I, Alessandro Santoro, will never love another."

Blessed are those who do not fear solitude, who are not afraid of their own company, who are not always desperately looking for something to do, something to amuse themselves with. -Paulo Coelho. |A L E E Z A| Other people's days might turn bad, but my life is going awry. I have no idea how I consistently manage to immerse myself in the worst of troubles. It's like an unwanted talent that I possess, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get rid of it.