Bluebell Quotes

“He has a fascination with mortals.

Raphael had said that to her before she'd woken with wings of midnight and dawn.

"Why are you starting at me, Ellie?" Illium said without taking his eyes from the blade dancing around his fingers.

The words were instinctive, something she might as easily have said to rib Ransom. "You're so pretty, it's difficult to resist."

A flashing grin, a hint of that aristocratic English accent in his response. "It's hard to be me, it's true.”
― Nalini Singh, Archangel's Consort

“Even as she spoke, silver blue flashed on her other side and then Illium was standing beside her, his wing touching Elena's in an intimacy that made Raphael raise an eyebrow. Illium's lips curved in a wicked smile that did little to hide the intensity of his emotions. I would not watch you die again, Sire. His veins stood out against his skin as he gripped the wrist of one hand with the other.


Raphael met those eyes of gold that had stood beside him for centuries. If I had done so, I would have gone knowing you would keep my heart safe.


Illium's gaze went to Elena. Always.”
― Nalini Singh, Archangel's Consort

“Bluebell,” she said, remembering from Erotique. “Pretty name.”

“I call Dmitri Dark Overlord.”

“Shae,” Dmitri said and the female vampire rose at once to walk quickly into the house. “Now, pretty Bluebell”—another languid stroke across her skin—“tell the Overlord what you discovered.”
― Nalini Singh, Archangel's Blade

“The King, he went a -walking, on merry morn in May.
The King, he laid him down to rest, and fell asleep, they say.
And when he woke, 'twas even,
(The hour of magic mood)
And Bluebell, Wild Bluebell, was dancing in the wood.

The king, he gave a banquet to all the flowers (save one),
With hungry eyes he watched them, a-seeking one alone.
The rose was there in satin.
The Lily with green hood
But Bluebell, wild Bluebell only dances in the wood.

The King, he frowned in anger, his hand upon his sword.
He sent his men to seize her, and bring her to their Lord.
With silken cords they bound her,
Before the King she stood,
Bluebell, wild Bluebell, who dances in the wood.

The King, he rose to greet her, the maid he'd sword to wed.
The King, he took his golden crown and set it on her head.
And then he paled and shivered,
The courtiers gazed in fear,
At Bluebell, grey Bluebell, so pale and ghostly there.

"O King, your grown is heavy, 'twould bow my head with care.
Your palace walls would shut me in, who live as free as air.
The wind, he is my lover,
The sun my lover too,
And Bluebell, whild Bluebell, shall ne'er be Queen to you."

The King, he mourned a twelvemonth, and none could ease his pain.
The King, he went a-walking a-down a lovers' lane.
He laid aside his golden crown,
Into the wood went he,
Where Bluebell, wild Bluebell, dances ever wild and free.”
― Agatha Christie, Agatha Christie: An Autobiography

“How comforting to be a slug, among the dandelions so snug-"
"And feel the blackbird's sudden tug.”
― Richard Adams, Watership Down