White Oleander Book Quotes Novels & Stories

She just sat down across from me in her floral armchair and folded her hands. “You found something.” It wasn’t a question. I set my cup down, still untouched, and pulled the printout from my coat pocket. I slid it across the table to her. She lifted her glasses and started reading, her eyes narrowing slightly as she moved down the page. When she reached the words Aconitum napellus her breath caught. She looked up. “They used wolfsbane?” “And oleander,” I said quietly. For a moment the only sound in the room was the rain beating against the windows.

No more cold glares, no more unspoken accusations, no more living in the ruins of a love that had only ever been one-sided. They suited each other better, she thought. Wren’s hunger for him and Alexander’s stubborn pride — it was almost poetic. Let them destroy each other this time. Ophelia leaned back in her chair, gazing at the small collection of perfumes lined neatly across her vanity. Bottles of every shape and shade, each holding something of her soul. The faint scent of vanilla and smoke drifted from one of the uncapped vials — her scent, her latest experiment. It reminded her of rebirth.

Lucianne shook her head again before she said, “No. The last thing I remember was the pain spreading from my left calf. And the smell of the poison.” “Smell?” Dr Karr asked. “Yeah. Being a wolf, I’ve never come into contact with Oleander in any way. I’ve read about them but I’ve never studied their properties. Yesterday was the first time I got its scent. It smells terrible, doesn’t it? What’s it made of anyway? I know there must be mercury, salt and granite. But what’s the last thing I’m missing?”

What price would the Book of Whispers extract from us? With measured steps, we approached the pedestal, our gazes locked on the ancient tome. As I reached out to touch its weathered pages, a surge of energy coursed through my fingertips, sending a jolt of anticipation through my veins. "The Book of Whispers holds the answers you seek," a disembodied voice echoed through the grove, its tone both soothing and enigmatic. "But to unlock its secrets, you must be willing to sacrifice a part of yourselves."

“Not the ashbalm. Especially not now that it’s finally blooming.” My gaze darts to the flowers, and it’s a miracle. The white buds, still speckled with Eldrick’s blood, are unfurling into delicate petals as intricate as tatted lace, and they glow. The entire wheelbarrow is illuminated as if by moonlight. And the scent. It fills my nose and thrums in my veins. It smells like perfect memories and wonderous dreams. “Well, I guess it wasn’t the soil that was the issue after all,” the witch says, gathering her skirts and rising from a bench. “I guess it just wanted a different kind of watering.”

I pushed all the old books in annoyance. There was a vase just beside it which I broke. I scattered everything still having no satisfaction. Coming down on my feet, I cried in disgust and so much pain. I began hitting the floor with anger. It was then I noticed something on the ground. A particular book stood out from others on the floor. It laid opened and there were words carved on it: “A wolf with powers never forgets his abilities.” Then there was another one. “And when darkness entails, I will lift you up.”

Theodora asked,what made the books so interesting that Madeline wouldn't even look up to see where she was going. "There's something about a good book, that's makes you forget about your whereabouts. Like this one i was reading this line before I almost bumped into the doorpost.." *The light on her eyes were like dying embers, soft and warm. Over time there'd be nothing left but ashes..* Theodora nodded she could feel herself imagining it and it looked beautiful.. We're books always this fun to read, maybe Madeline would show her some good books, Theodora thought to her self.

“What was this about oleander?” “This man,” Iris said, gesturing to the man on the ground, “collapsed a few minutes ago. Luna Olivia immediately stepped in to provide first aid, which I can confirm she did marvelously, and was asking questions to narrow down the issue when the man said it felt like something was ‘eating its way out of him.’ “Interestingly, this is exactly how Alpha Horacio the First described his bout of oleander poisoning, as found in his diary. More interestingly, the hostess also knew this fact.” Elroy’s face took on a thunderous appearance.

But even as I said it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that peace in this house never lasted long. Still, I tried to hold onto the calm. I wandered through the living room, touching the edge of the piano where Zane had been teaching me a few nights ago, and paused at the portrait hall where Kai had once stopped me from leaving. Everywhere I looked, memories whispered, moments that felt stolen, fragile. Then, I caught sight of the flower vase sitting on the grand piano, fresh white lilies. Mrs. Alden’s words came back again, stronger this time. “Flowers don’t just make a place beautiful, Lena. They remind it to breathe.”

XVII – Promises, promises . . . “What glitters may not be gold; and even wolves may smile; and fools will be led by promises to their deaths.” –Lauren Oliver . . . PROSERPINA: As romantic as this was, dancing under the moonlight in the place where they first met, Proserpina could not hear the blasted song Alastor was speaking of and was too annoyed for being spun around in the air like a ragdoll. He was just carrying her and spinning her round and round, anyways. Could this still be even considered as dancing?