Amy Harmon Quotes

You can't have an animal in here, Sheen."
"I'm in a wheelchair, man. You gonna tell me I can't have my seeing-eye cat with me? Actually, it can be your seeing-eye cat, since you're blind and all. One of the perks to being a pathetic figure is that I tend to get what I want.

We are made in his image, and to him we return. After

Nobody or Nowhere? Fern: I'd rather be nobody at home than somebody somewhere else.
Ambrose: I'd rather be nowhere. Being nobody when you're expected to be somebody gets old.
Fern: How would you know? Have you been nobody?
Ambrose: Everybody who is somebody becomes nobody the moment they fail.

The very best things in life are born of difficulty. Whatever comes too easily is easily abandoned.

I don't have terrible taste in women. I'm mad about you, aren't I?"
"Are you?"
"Yes, Blue. I am. I am completely gone on you.

If the world is too flat, people like me will slide right off.

Bonnie Rae, you've got a visitor downstairs. And if you don't show your face right away, he's going to kill me. And it won't be a quick death. It will be a mauling. Do you understand?"
"Huh?"
"Bear's here, and he's loaded for . . . well, bear."
"Bear's here?" she shot straight up in bed, immediately awake, and made for the door, bare legs flying, oversized T-shirt slipping off her slim shoulders.
"Bonnie!" She halted and turned in question. "If you want me to live, pull on some pants and do something with your hair. Please.

From heart-break some people have suffered
from weariness some people have died.
But take it all in all;
our troubles are small,
'til we get like Bonnie and Clyde

Do you stand naked in front of the mirror and flex every night? I mean, really, at least go into the adult film industry. At least it won't go completely to waste.

He was like water - cold, deep, unpredictable, and, like the pond up the canyon, dangerous, because you could never see what was beneath the surface. And just like I'd done all my life, I jumped in head first, even though I'd been forbidden. But this time, I drowned.

Over the river and through the woods, grandma has fallen down. The police save the day, and haul me away, from the shitty all-white town.

I guess it means we don't understand everything, and we're not going to. Maybe the whys aren't answered here. Not because there aren't answers, but because we wouldn't understand the answers if we had them. Maybe there's a bigger purpose, a bigger picture that we only contribute a very small piece to. You know, like one of those thousand piece puzzles? There's no way you can tell by looking at one piece of the puzzle what the puzzle is going to look like in the end. And we don't have the picture on the outside of the puzzle box to guide us. Maybe everyone represents a piece of the puzzle. We all fit together to create this experience we call life. None of us can see the part we play or the way it all turns out. Maybe the miracles that we see are just the tip of the iceberg. And maybe we just don't recognize the blessings that come as a result of terrible things.

Do you know what I believe in, Angelo? I believe in my family. I believe in my father. I believe in Santino and Fabia. And I believe in you. The people I love most in the world. Love is the only thing I believe in.

A rejected infant will often die, even if its basic needs are met. A rejected child will spend his whole life trying to please everyone else, and never please himself. A rejected woman will often cheat, just to feel desirable. A rejected man will rarely try again, no matter how lonely he is. A rejected people will convince themselves they deserve it, if only to make sense of a senseless world. I'm

The world is alive with words

You glow, Lark." His hand climbed back up again and swept over my unbound hair. I swallowed, suddenly close to tears. Then why does no one see me? "I see you," he said.

And so we endure. We have faith that there is purpose. We hope for things we can't see. We believe that there are lessons in loss, power in love, and that we have within us the potential for a beauty so magnificent that our bodies can't contain it.

Sometimes funny is all you've got.

Something happened that night; somehow you escaped Purgatory. I can't explain it, but…." Maggie took a deep breath and plunged on. He deserved to know how she felt. "I think you made a choice. You chose life and all the ugly hard things that go with it, even though Heaven would have been easier.

Rita has spent her whole life being chased by boys. Because of that, she never had a chance to stop running long enough to figure out who she was and what kind of guy she should let catch her.

Our immortality comes through our children and their children. Through our roots and branches. The family is immortality. And Hitler has destroyed not just branches and roots, but entire family trees, forests. All of them, gone.

I'd wandered over to Kathleen's, knowing Moses should be done with work, and coaxed him to the backyard with a couple of Cokes and two pieces of lemon meringue pie Kathleen had been happy to part with. She liked me, and I knew it, and she was incredibly helpful in maneuvering Moses when he pretended to not want my company or lemon meringue pie when we both knew darn well he wanted both.

I've lost my mind

Your love's made me blind

I can't even speak

Your love's made me weak



But if you watch me I'll show you

And if you let me I'll hold you

So the words that I can't say

You'll hear anyway

You'll know how much I long for you

How every note's a song for you

You'll know

How I just want to breathe you in

And lose myself inside your skin

I'll hold you and you'll know

Many will seek to tell me what God's will is. But nobody knows. Not really. Because God is quiet. Always. He is quiet, and my anguish is so intense, so incredibly loud, that right now I can only do my will and hope that somehow, it aligns with his.

I have a new nickname. A few of the guys have noticed that I am reading the bible on my free time. I am now 'preacher.' Not very fitting, if you ask me. Don't preachers have to stand up and teach people? I guess it could be worse. Some of the guys were talking about their favorite kind of music. Nobody said classical. I wasn't surprised, and I didn't volunteer my preference. Later on, I was talking to Tyler Young, and he asked me what I liked to listen to, so I told him about Beethoven. He asked me what songs I liked. I told him I especially liked Air on a G String - big mistake!! He thought I was talking about women's underwear. He's calling me 'G' now. I think I prefer Preacher. Tyler has a big mouth, especially when he thinks he's going to get laughs, and before I knew it, he'd told everyone about Air on a G String. Now I'm 'Preacher G.

Please, please, for the love of trolls and other blessed creatures, stop wandering around in the forest like yer a bat instead of a wee lady!

I wondered how he'd learned to push the words away, to drown them, to not feel them pounding against his head and his heart, begging to be spoken.

Someday, I would be the one to leave.

Everybody is a main character to someone...

And you're a sweet Georgia peach with fuzzy pink skin, and I'm not biting.

I know you are incredibly bright, because when you are not being a smartarse your comments in class are very insightful, and when you ARE being a smartarse you are witty and clever and you make me laugh even when I want to slap you.

The longer he remained on this earth, the more he was sure that mankind had no clue about God or heaven. Not when they used him as an excuse to kill, to punish, to discriminate.

It is one thing to kill someone. It is another to degrade and humiliate, to strip away a person's dignity like stripping away flesh. One made a man a murderer. The other made him a monster.

Maybe it was because I was raised in Appalachia, raised in faith and poverty and little else, but I believed in things like fate and destiny. I believed in angels, and I believed in God's ability to direct our paths, to guide us and move us in unseen ways, and I believed in miracles. Suddenly, Finn Clyde felt like a miracle, and I felt sure that Minnie had sent him to me.

This last year I've felt like one of those snowflakes we used to make in school. The ones where you fold the paper a certain way and then keep cutting and cutting until the paper is shredded. That's what I look like, a paper snowflake. And each hole has a name. And nobody, not you, not me, can fill the holes that someone else has left. All we can do is keep each other from falling in the holes and never coming out again.

That was your second chance, and you repeated all your mistakes. You've shown your colors, and I don't like the way you look in them. I don't want you around.

Did you know that in mathematics they determined what was real by what was not imaginary?" Finn's voice was just a soft rumble beneath my fingertips that had found his lips
"What?"
"When mathematicians came up with imaginary numbers, accepted them, defined them, they had to come up with a name for everything that wasn't imaginary. Everything that wasn't an imaginary number from that point on became a 'real' number."
What's an imaginary number?"
"The square root of negative one is an imaginary number."
"Is that all?"
"Any number that was once the square root of a negative number becomes an imaginary number. Square root of -4 becomes 2i, square root of -100 becomes 10i."
"Is infinity an imaginary number?"
"No."
"Is it a real number?"
"No. It isn't a number at all. It's a concept of endlessness, unreachableness.
"I knew it. See? You are just a figment of my imagination.

Weightless and endless. Timeless and restless. Hopelessly breathless

So, how old were you when you discovered St. Patrick?" I teased.
"Twelve! He was bloody twelve!" Tiffa bellowed from the backseat, making everyone laugh. "When Darcy was born, he was wearing a tiny little bow tie and braces."
"Braces?" I giggled.
"Suspenders," Wilson supplied dryly.
"He has always been an absolute geek," Tiffa chortled. "That, my dear Blue, is why he's brilliant. And wonderful."
"Don't try to be nice to me now, Tiff," Wilson smiled, catching her gaze in his rear view mirror.
"All right. I won't. Did you know he was going to be a doctor, Blue?"
"Tiffa!" Wilson moaned.

When you realize there's so much you can't control, you get pretty stingy with what you can.

Life had taught her that consequences were ugly and painful, and seldom worth the pleasure they had been bartered for.

Your dad says that 'cause he loves you. Just like my mom tells me I'm pretty 'cause she loves me. I'm not pretty ... and you can't beat Ambrose, buddy.

Every year, Bailey, Angie, and Mike head to Philadelphia for the Fourth of July. They visit the Museum of Art, and Mike carries Bailey up those 72 steps and they do the Rocky reenactment. Angie helps Bailey raise his arms and they all yell, 'one more year!' Bailey loves Rocky. Does that suprise you?

Gratitude works best when you're the one feeling it.

But she wasn't the only one who was suffering, and sometimes there is comfort in the knowledge that you don't suffer alone, sad as that is.

There's a whole lot more to most people than meets the eye, Wilson. Unfortunately, a lot of times it isn't good stuff. It's scary stuff, painful stuff. By now, you know so much scary, painful stuff about me, it's a wonder you're still around. You had me pegged pretty well right from the start, I'd say. You're wrong about one thing, though. Girls like me notice guys like you. We just don't think we deserve them.

Making the most of every second, because seconds became minute sand minutes became precious when life could be taken in less than a breath.

But I think I will keep you.

I love the way you smile at me ... knocks me on my arse.

Be careful what you fear, Ivo replied, grave. We draw the attention of the fates when our fear grows too loud. The fates are cruel, and they will reward you with what you fear most.

It's not just about what's there, but what isn't .

I could eat a unicorn and pick my teeth with his horn! I'm absolutely famished.

And that was the biggest paradox of all.

I believe in numbers. The ones you can see and the ones you can't. The real and the imaginary, the rational and the irrational, and every point on lines that go on forever. Numbers have never let me down. They don't waffle. They don't lie. They don't pretend to be what they're not. They're timeless.

So often, I felt like my hands and heart knew something I did not, and I surrendered the art to them.

I intend to keep her close by, to keep her next to me at all times. She will drink from my cup and eat from my plate to protect me from your poisons. She will sleep beneath me and hover over me and never leave my side. In fact, I leave in three days for Kilmorda, and she is coming with me. She will ride in front of me, astride my horse, clinging to me as I go into battle, a human shield against those you send against me.

But the actual mail was delivered to the little brick post office on the main drag and distributed to the keyed, ornate boxes inside. My family had one of the lower numbers because we'd inherited our box as it was passed down through the Shepherd line.
"So your family is Levan royalty, then?" Moses had teased.
"Yes. We Shepherds rule this town," I replied.
"Who has PO Box number 1?" he inquired immediately.
"God," I said, not missing a beat.
"And box number 2?" He was laughing as he asked.
"Pam Jackman."
"From down the street?"
"Yes. She's like one of the Kennedys."
"She drives the bus, right?" he asked.
"Yes. Bus driver is a highly lauded position in our community." I didn't even crack a smile.
"So boxes 3 and 4?"
"They are empty now. They are waiting for the heirs to come of age before they inherit their mailboxes. My son will someday inherit PO Box #5. It will be a proud day for all Shepherds."
"Your son? What if you have a daughter?" His eyes got that flinty look that made my stomach feel swishy. Talking about having children made me think about making babies. With Moses.
"She's going to be the first female bull-rider who wins the national title. She won't be living in Levan most of the time. Her brothers will have to look after the family name and the Shepherd line . . . and our post office box," I said, trying not to think about how much I would enjoy making little bull-riders with Moses.

Sometimes the things we want to be rescued from can save us.

Shhhh," Johnny soothed, sliding his hands up and down her back, nuzzling her hair. "Car thieves don't cry, baby. You gotta toughen up if you're gonna have a future with good old Clyde here."

"I like it when you do that."

"What?"

"Call me baby," Maggie whispered.

"You liked it when I called you Bonnie too," he replied with a smile in his voice. "Why?"

"You used to call me baby all the time. It makes me believe you can love me again."

Johnny wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and lifted her to him, kissing her tear-streaked cheeks before he touched his lips to hers.

"I'm already there Maggie. I fell in love when you begged me to help you escape the cops. I fell in love when we danced to Nat King Cole singing 'Stardust' on a moonlit beach. Hell, I fell in love when you told me how blondes spell farm."

"E-I-E-I-O," Maggie quipped wetly.

Johnny laughed and held her tightly.

People who are afraid of the truth never find it.

I didn't know if his art was helping. But Moses's pictures were like that, glorious and terrible. Glorious because they brought memory to life, terrible for the same reason.
Time softens memories, sanding down the rough edges of death.
But Moses's pictures dripped with life and reminded us of our loss.

I felt a lump rise in my throat and looked away. Damn my feminine emotions.

The one you said sucked? I murmured, wishing he would play another song. I was

Everybody is a main chracter to someone

They can take our homes, our possessions. Our families. Our lives. They can drive us out, like they've driven us out before. They can humiliate us and dehumanize us. But they cannot take our thoughts. They cannot take our talents. They cannot take our knowledge, or our memories, or our minds. In music there is no bondage. Music is a door, and the soul escapes through the melody.

Am I bothering you?"

"Yes." Samuel lifted his chin as he said this, jutting it at me, like he said the word purposely to hurt me and make me angry.

"What am I doing that's bothering you?" I again fought the wet that threatened to undermine my dignity. I spoke each word distinctly, focusing on the shape and sound instead of the sentiment.

"You are so....." His smooth voice was layered with turbulence and frustration. Samuel rarely raised his voice, and didn't do so now, but the threat was there. "You are so… calm, and accepting, and NAIVE that sometimes…I just want to shake you!"

I wondered what in the world had brought on this vehement attack and sat in stunned silence for several heartbeats.

"I bother you because I'm calm...and accepting?" I said, my voice an incredulous squeak. "Do you want me to be hyper and, well, intolerant?"

"It would be nice if you questioned something, sometime." Samuel was revving up to his argument; I could see the animation in his face. "You live in your own happy little world. You don't know how it feels to not belong anywhere! I don't belong anywhere!"

"Why do you think I created my own happy little world?" I shot back. "I fit in perfectly there!

Why don't you focus on where you're going and less on where you came from?

It always amazes me how people are placed in our lives at exactly the right times. That's how God works, that's how he takes care of his children.

You're back," I said, refusing to embarrass myself further by getting angry.
"I took Tag home. He had big plans to train for his next fight old school, like Rocky, but discovered that it's a little more appealing in the movies. Plus, I don't do a very good Apollo Creed."
"Tag's a fighter?"
"Yeah. Mixed martial arts stuff. He's pretty good."
"Huh." I didn't know what else to say. I didn't know anything about the sport. "Didn't Apollo Creed die in one of the movies?"
"Yeah. The black guy always dies at the hands of the white man."
I rolled my eyes, and he grinned, making me grin with him before I remembered that I was embarrassed and ticked off that he had kissed me and left town. It felt a little too much like the past. The grin slipped from my face and I turned away, busying myself shaking out the saddle blankets.
"So why did you come back?" I kept my eyes averted. He was quiet for a minute, and I bit my lips so I wouldn't start to babble into the awkward silence.
"The house needs more work," he replied at last. "And I'm thinking of changing my name."
My head shot up, and I met his smirk with confusion.
"Huh?"
"I heard there was this new law in Georgia. Nobody named Moses can even visit. So I'm thinking a name change is in order."
I just shook my head and laughed, both embarrassed and pleased at his underlying meaning. "Shut up, Apollo," I said, and it was his turn to laugh.

You see beauty in things other people just take for granted. You need understanding, and, and ... deep conversation, and someone who can keep up with that mind of yours!

Literature makes history come to life. It is maybe the most accurate depiction of history, especially literature that was written in the time period depicted in the story.

You may not be a work of art, but you are definitely a piece of work.

Loving someone means putting their needs above your own. No matter what. Somehow, you figured that out. I'll be damned if I know how, but you did.

But there's no way to avoid regret. Don't let anybody tell you different. Regret is just life's aftertaste. No matter what you choose, you're gonna wonder if you shoulda done things different. I didn't necessarily choose wrong. I just chose. And I lived with my choice, aftertaste and all.

We spend our lives complicating what we would do better to accept. Because in acceptance, we put our energies into transcendence.

Caring about someone doesn't mean taking care of them.

It was love that made each touch feel like redemption and each kiss feel like rebirth. Not lust. Not pleasure. It was love that created joy.

Why are you so angry?"
His question surprised me, and I laughed a little. "This isn't angry," I smirked. "This is just me. Get used to it.

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Swallow Daughter, pull them in, those words that sit upon your lips. Lock them deep inside your soul, hide them 'til they've time to grow. Close your mouth upon the power, curse not, cure not, 'til the hour. You won't speak and you won't tell, you won't call on heav'n or hell. You will learn and you will thrive. Silence, daughter. Stay alive.

I have loved you every moment of every day, and I will love you until I cease to be. Bird, man, or king, I love you, and I will always love you.

Here Katy. I have a cooler trick than Finn's. I can show you how to write poop on a calculator . . . now that's awesome." I pulled the calculator from her little hands and proceeded to teach her some potty humor every kid should know.
Finn grabbed it from my hand and punched in some numbers and passed it back. When I turned it upside down it read "hILLBILLI." Well, I definitely was that.

Without desire, there is only duty. But sometimes our greatest desire is to do our duty.

Maybe the secret to happiness is simplicity.

And the guilt and the loathing slipped away, pushed out by the overwhelming gratitude that I was alive, that I could feel, that I could hear the music.

True beauty, the kind that doesn't fade or wash off, takes time. It takes incredible endurance. It is the slow drip that creates the stalactite, the shaking of the Earth that creates mountains, the constant pounding of the waves that breaks up the rocks and smooths the rough edges. And from the violence, the furor, the raging of the winds, the roaring of the waters, something better emerges, something that would have otherwise never existed.
And so we endure. We have faith that there is purpose. We hope for things we can't see. We believe there are lessons in loss, power in love, and that we have within us the potential for a beauty so magnificent, our bodies can't contain it.

Tag stopped, his spoon paused in mid-air. I watched as a Cheerio made a desperate dive for freedom, plopping back in the bowl, safe for another few seconds.

There's no sense in running from the past. We can't throw it away or pretend it didn't happen, Miss Echohawk. But maybe we can learn something from it. You have an interesting story, and I'd like you to tell me more.

The lucky ones are the ones who don't come back.

See? The moment you quit chasing him, that's when he wants you. He looks jealous. He thinks he's been replaced.

There's a lot I don't understand ... but not understanding is better not believing - Ambrose

In the light everything is obvious. There are no secrets. You simply have to look in order to see.

If you don't love, then nobody gets hurt. It's easy to leave. It's easy to lose. It's easy to let go.

It was a Friday morning, and Walmart was populated only by the occasional mom with very young children and the random senior citizen, which made my bathroom makeover less conspicuous. Only one woman came in while I stood in front of the mirror, and she went straight to the toilets. I made sure that when she came out I was no longer standing in front of the mirror but was huddled with my palms stretched out beneath a loud hand dryer, my face completely averted. No one expects to see a celebrity in their local Walmart bathroom. Most of us don't really look at each other anyway. Our eyes glance off without really registering what we're seeing. It's human nature. It's polite society. Ignore each other unless someone is grotesquely fat or immodestly dressed or disfigured in some way - and then we pretend not to see, but we see everything. I was none of those things, and so far human nature was working in my favor.

If Bailey had been born without MD, he wouldn't be Bailey. The Bailey who is smart and sensitive, and seems to understand so many things we don't. You might have looked right past Bailey if he'd grown up healthy, wrestling on his dad's team, acting like every other guy you've ever known. A big part of the reason Bailey is so special is because life has sculpted him into something amazing ... maybe not on the outside, but on the inside. On the inside, Bailey looks like Michelangelo's David. And when I look at him, and when you look at him, that's what we see.

I want you too. So we're even. Infinity plus one does equal two, see? Me and you.

Wanting her made him selfish, but loving her demanded he deny himself.

Camillo always say we are on earth to learn. I think I want to teach. I want to teach history so that the world does not have to repeat our mistakes.

Lost or Alone? Ambrose said alone, and Fern responded, "I would much rather be lost with you than alone without you, so I choose lost with a caveat." Ambrose responded, "No caveats," to which Fern replied, "Then lost, because alone feels permanent, and lost can be found." Streetlights

They moved silently in each other's orbits, solitary planets in a lonely galaxy.

I think people are like that. When you really look at them, you stop seeing a perfect nose or straigt teeth. You stop seeing the acne scar or the dimple in the chin. Those things start to blur, and suddenly you see them, the colors, the life inside the shell, and beauty takes on a whole new meaning." Fern didn't look away from the sky as she talked, and Ambrose let his eyes linger on her profile. She wasn't talking about him. She was just being thoughtful, pondering life's ironies. She was just being Fern.