欧宝娱乐

“I sit alone in a dead world. The wind blows hot and dry, and the dust gathers like particles of memory waiting to be swept away. I pray for forgetfulness, yet my memory remains strong, as does the outstretched arm of the oppressive air. It seems as if the wind has been there since the beginning of the nightmare. Sometimes loud and harsh, a thousand sharp needles scratching at my reddened skin. Sometimes a whisper, a curious sigh in the black of night, of words more frightening than pain. I know now the wind has been speaking to me. Only I couldn't understand because I was too scared. I am scared now as I write these words. Still, there is nothing else to do.”
― Christopher Pike, Whisper of Death

“You aren't afraid of needles. I see one, and I start crying like a baby."
"I've never seen you cry."
"It's on the inside.”
― Gena Showalter, A Mad Zombie Party

“Then the long nights, that were also days, in the hospital. And the long blanks, that were also nights. Needles, and angled glass rods to suck water through. Needles, and curious enamel wedges slid under your middle. Needles, and - needles and needles and needles. Like swarms of persistent mosquitoes with unbreakable drills. The way a pincushion feels, if it could feel. Or the target of a porcupine. Or a case of not just momentary but permanently endured static electricity after you scuff across a woolen rug and then put your finger on a light switch. Even food was a needle - a jab into a vein...

("For The Rest Of Her Life")”
― Cornell Woolrich, Angels of Darkness

“Life begins more like an empty needle. It's in our hands to thread it with relevant ones and sew the same to make it colorful..!”
― Arjun S R

“Wendell was no sooner gazing at the silver sewing needles than he was brushing away a tear.
"They are like my father's," he said wonderingly. "I remember the flicker of them in the darkness as we all sat together by the ghealach fire, with the trees surrounding us. He would bring them everywhere, even the Hunt of the Frostveiling---that is the first hunt of autumn, the largest of the year, when even the queen and her children roam through the wilds with spears and swords, riding our best---oh, I don't know what you would call them in your language. They are a kind of faerie fox, black and golden together, which grow larger than horses. My brothers and sisters and I would crowd round the fire to watch him weave nets from brambles and spidersilk. And all the moorbeasts and hag-headed deer would cower at the sight of those nets, though they barely blinked at the whistle of our arrows." He fell silent, gazing at them with his eyes gone very green.
"Well," I said, predictably at a loss for an answer to this, "I hope they are of use to you. Only keep them away from any garments of mine."
He took my hand, and then, before I knew what he was doing, lifted it to his mouth. I felt the briefest brush of his lips against my skin, and then he had released me and was back to exclaiming over his gifts. I turned and went into the kitchen in an aimless haste, looking for something to do, anything that might distract me from the warmth that had trailed up my arm like an errant summer breeze”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“A sharp needle's words of advice:
As you sew your destiny think twice.
If you slip, your finger may smart
But karma is a sword through your heart."
(Get Off Your High Horse Spell)”
― Lawren Leo, Horse Magick: Spells and Rituals for Self-Empowerment, Protection, and Prosperity

“The Xanax idols
Pipe and needles icons,
The generation of hysteria,
(Lazy youth looking...for prosperity)
human rights lost in austerity.”
― G. P. Moci, Isabella

“The woman locks [the needles] away because a certain cat tries to slurp up threaded needles like spaghetti.鈥�
鈥淚 like to live dangerously.”
― Georgia Dunn, Lupin Leaps In: A Breaking Cat News Adventure