Drugged Quotes

“Never give a person a piece of your mind when all you really wanted to do was give them a piece of your heart.”
― Shannon L. Alder

“In cases of organized and multi-perpetrator abuse when the abuse occurs in the context of rituals and ceremonies, some elements of the experience may have been staged specifically with the intention of encouraging the disbelief of others if the victim were to report the crime. For example, someone reporting such a crime may mention that the devil was present, or that someone well-known was there, or that acts of magic were performed. These were tricks and deceptions by the abusers-often experienced by the victims after being given medication or hallucinogenic drugs - that render the account unbelievable, make the witness sound unreliable, and protect the perpetrators.
(page 120, Chapter 9, Some clinical implications of believing or not believing the patient)”
― Graeme Galton, Forensic Aspects of Dissociative Identity Disorder

“I rely on a backbone of books and, for the most part, it's enough to keep me quiet, half-drugged with dreams of imaginary worlds.”
― Rinsai Rossetti, The Girl with Borrowed Wings

“He shook his head to clear it, but the world grew dark and angry and would not stay upright. The world did not like to be shaken. He understood that now. He wouldn't shake it again. He felt his feet sliding away from him on silent roller skates and reached for a wall for support. The wall cursed and dug its fingers into his arm, and was probably not a wall. It was probably a person.”
― Max Barry, Lexicon

“I had had the job for three weeks. It was dreary. You couldn't read; they didn't like it. I would feel as if I were drugged, sitting there, watching those damned dolls, thinking what a success they would have made of their lives if they had been women. Satin skin, silk hair, velvet eyes, sawdust heart - all complete.”
― Jean Rhys, Good Morning, Midnight

“A misty vision of Francesca gazed down at me from a corner of the window. She gave me her wicked-sweet smile and the stars sparked in her pale hair. I wanted to call to her, but I had no voice. I smelled the mixed scents of her, and I imagined the lush, tropical feast I'd prepare for her on our wedding night.
I'd slip raw oysters between her lips. We'd share ripe figs and plump, dewy cherries. I'd offer her sweetmeats and honeyed milk, blood oranges peeled and ready, salty artichokes stripped down to the heart. I'd pry open a lobster shell and feed her tender morsels of meat, slowly, slowly. The flavors would mingle and mount and burst inside us like soft explosions. I wanted to believe it would all be possible.
I imagined her staring into my eyes while she dragged a buttered artichoke leaf between her teeth and sucked on the flesh. It was good. I rode through the long, lovely night on wave upon wave of pleasure, smelling her, tasting her, touching her...
I heard myself moan, and in that fierce embrace, I believed.”
― Elle Newmark, The Book of Unholy Mischief

“I'mnotgoingtothesibes.' So much for not slurring. 'Sibes,' I try again. 'SIBES.' Oh, fuck it. 'Mend me.'

'I will always mend you,' Nolan promises.

'Just. This. Once.' I concentrate on every word. 'If. The others. See I need. Mending. Allthetime, they'll. Think. I'm weak.'

'Which is why we have to use this opportunity to get you out!' Panic rises in Dain's voice, and my heart sinks. He can't protect me from everything and watching me break, watching me eventually die is going to ruin him. 'Walking out of here and going straight to the Scribe Quadrant is your best chance at survival.'

I glare at Dain and choose my words carefully. 'I'm not. Leavingtheriders. Just so Mom. Canthrowmeback. I'm. Staying.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“The extent of my depravity was ruthless: graduation, family events, weddings, funerals, Grandma’s birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and every other holiday. The one common denominator amongst these occasions was that the only thing I gave thanks for was an inebriated state of being. If I had to go a day without drugs, it was a bad day. If a day went as I preferred, I would get high in the morning, at lunch, and in the evening.”
― Michael J Heil, Pursued: God’s relentless pursuit and a drug addict’s journey to finding purpose

“If you taste as good as you smell, I'm afraid you'll have me wrapped around your finger in no time." Apollo inhaled the air by my neck.
"I highly doubt that," I whispered.
He chuckled. Apollo's soft touch was gentle with me as he tilted my head to have better access to my neck. "It will only sting for a moment, my dear."
His fangs pierced my neck and I bit back a scream. They were sharp as they dug into my flesh, pulling painfully at my skin, worse than any cut, any needle that had touched me in all my life.
Thankfully it was over in an instant, and the pain was replaced by a warm sensation. Very warm. It traveled from my neck down into my chest, and from there it flowed down even farther into my...
"Oh you... fucking... cheater," I gasped as I clenched my thighs together. I had completely forgotten why powerful vampires had no problem finding blood supplies. It felt good. Stupidly good. It was the bottom of a top-shelf bottle and the smoothest drug all wrapped in the needy high of sex. It was consuming, pulsing heat.
Apollo drew back for a moment to give me a wicked grin. Swimming, everything was swimming, but I didn't hate it. Not that I didn't want to, but nothing had ever messed with my head in this way before. My own blood reddened his lips, but it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. "Everything okay, my dear?"
"Go lick a garlic bulb.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Dragons

“As fucked up as it seemed, all I could do while sitting in the trees and listening to a fight that would decide my fate was grow increasingly hot and bothered. I ground my teeth as I clenched my thighs together, hoping for an ounce of friction and relief. My legs were slick where my heat pooled and dripped down. I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't so frustrated. Vampires, especially those with the addictive, hot bite of Apollo, could all go to hell.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Dragons