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“Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?'

'To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.'

'The dog did nothing in the night-time.'

'That was the curious incident,' remarked Sherlock Holmes.”
― Arthur Conan Doyle, Silver Blaze

“Red blood is just so hard to clean up"
"You would know" I snap remembering Shade. "Because no matter how hard you try to hid it I see it all over your hands”
― Victoria Aveyard, Red Queen

“One day we took the children to see a goldsmith refine gold after the ancient manner of the East. He was sitting beside his little charcoal fire. ("He shall sit as a refiner"; the gold- or silversmith never leaves his crucible once it is on the fire.) In the red glow lay a common curved roof tile; another tile covered it like a lid. This was the crucible. In it was the medicine made of salt, tamarind fruit and burnt brick dust, and imbedded in it was the gold. The medicine does its appointed work on the gold, "then the fire eats it," and the goldsmith lifts the gold out with a pair of tongs, lets it cool, rubs it between his fingers, and if not satisfied puts it back again in fresh medicine. This time he blows the fire hotter than it was before, and each time he puts the gold into the crucible, the heat of the fire is increased; "it could not bear it so hot at first, but it can bear it now; what would have destroyed it then helps it now." "How do you know when the gold is purified?" we asked him, and he answered, "When I can see my face in it [the liquid gold in the crucible] then it is pure.”
― Amy Carmichael, Gold Cord

“It is not until you rhyme with a person that makes you their perfect match, it is when you are satisfied with each others peculiarities, and find jewels in their loopholes.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson

“Just above our terror, the stars painted this story
in perfect silver calligraphy. And our souls, too often
abused by ignorance, covered our eyes with mercy.”
― Aberjhani, I Made My Boy Out of Poetry

“Where did you meet?â€� he pressed on.
I shrugged and considered a little rephrasing. “I was out for a run.�
“From who?�
I leaned back to take a long, very long, slow sip of that beer.
Knox leaned forward. “I think we’re both bullsh*tting here, you ever play that card game?�
“With my grandma, every Sunday after church.”
― Dannika Dark, Sterling

“There is no greater pain or punishment then memory.”
― Victoria Aveyard, Cruel Crown

“Fancy sleeping on air. I wonder if anyone's done it before. I don't suppose they have. Oh, botherâ€�-Scrubb probably has!”
― C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair and The Last Battle

“She made beauty all round her. When she trod on mud, the mud was beautiful; when she ran in the rain, the rain was silver. When she picked up a toad - she had the strangest and, I thought, unchanciest love for all manner of brutes - the toad became beautiful.”
― C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

“WINTER'S GHOST:
Autumn moon
incautious in the dark river
Winter’s ghost walks
with a covered face
and silver bones wait in all animals
to be bone cloth upon her shoulder
wait for her happiness in that they are silver”
― Tamara Rendell, Mystical Tides

“It was her first book, an indigo cover with a silver moonflower, an art nouveau flower, I traced my finger along the silver line like smoke, whiplash curves. ... I touched the pages her hands touched, I pressed them to my lips, the soft thick old paper, yellow now, fragile as skin. I stuck my nose between the bindings and smelled all the readings she had given, the smell of unfiltered cigarettes and the espresso machine, beaches and incense and whispered words in the night. I could hear her voice rising from the pages. The cover curled outward like sails.”
― Janet Fitch, White Oleander

“I told myself that some families we get without asking, while others we choose.
And I chose those two. I think that’s what you’d call a silver lining.”
― Jenny Valentine, Broken Soup

“Silver’s sweet and gold’s our mother, but once you’re dead they’re worth less than that last shit you take as you lie dying.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons

“Women were gravitating towards him from all directions like a planetary orbit.
(Zoe on meeting Justus)”
― Dannika Dark, Sterling

“The two of us in that room. No past, no future. All intense deep that-time-only. A feeling that everything must end, the music, ourselves, the moon, everything. That if you get to the heart of things you find sadness for ever and ever, everywhere; but a beautiful silver sadness, like a Christ face.”
― John Fowles, The Collector

“If I have a handful of silver it is because I work and my wife works, and we do not, as some do, sit idling over a gambling table or gossiping on doorsteps never swept, letting the fields grow to weeds and our children go half-fed!" (Buck, 65)”
― Pearl S. Buck, The Good Earth

“You all have a gift. It's free. It's the gift of song.”
― Christine E. Schulze, The Silver Stag

“I half imagined I could taste the silver on his nails, as sharp as glitter in my mouth. Maybe when he touched me, colour would spill from his hands like heat.”
― Alexis Hall, Glitterland

“it was such a lovely night. The moon was round and large, framed perfectly between the buildings like the main character in her own film, reflecting off the windows, cascading silvery light into the warm orange of the streetlights.”
― Ashley Poston, The Seven Year Slip

“Cade wondered if she'd still think he was sweet if she knew that under his pant legs, strapped to each ankle, were twin silver boot knives meant for killing vampires.”
― Alistair Cross, The Midnight Ripper

“Ryne forestalled any possibility of righting matters, tossing her a fat coin and giving her a slap on the bottom to send her off. Lira offered him a dimpled smile as she slipped the silver into the neck of her dress, but she left sending smoky glances over her shoulder at Lan that made him sigh. If he tried to say no now, she might well pull a knife over the insult.
'So your luck still holds with women, too.' Ryne's laugh had an edge. Perhaps he fancied her himself. 'The Light knows, they can't find you handsome; you get uglier every year. Maybe I ought to try some of that coy modesty, let women lead me by the nose.”
― Robert Jordan, New Spring

“For now, to keep myself sane, let me focus instead on the bluebells carpeting the forest floor; the misty sunlight that broke through the clouds, blurring the edges of things and turning the world to watercolors. The occasional glint of silver from the treetops. These are indeed baubles--- I climbed up into one of the oaks to check--- but larger than the ones mortals place on Yuletide trees, globes of delicate silver, hollow and light as eggshells. Something about them put me in mind of faerie stones, and I hastily released the bauble to drift back into the trees, among which it hovered like a puff of mist, disdaining the notion of gravity.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“A great ox like a hill in a barren field
Standing black against the dawn
With body once broken, now healed,
With silver-mended horns and brawn:

He pushed past the sun
And the mountains, unplowed immensities,
And with his silver won
A briar-crown of vanities.”
― Michael Shindler, Fret Not

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“Now, Shadow has never been fond of clothing, but he seemed to sense the importance of this particular imposition on his dignity, and held still while Wendell measured and draped him in iterations of what became a fine coat. It was a soft, velvety black, embroidered with a kingly amount of silver, which Wendell somehow made from a handful of the silver buttons I had found. He had decided to make Shadow intimidating--- to which I did not object, knowing this would lessen the dog's embarrassment--- and so he had taken tendrils of fog and attached them to the cloak like billowing ribbons, so that Shadow seemed to carry a mist with him everywhere like the spectral beast that he is. Together with the glitter of the silver, the effect was--- well, mythic.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales