J.T. Geissinger Quotes

You're really good with sweet-talk."
"I'm a songwriter, darlin'. Kinda comes with the territory.

I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but…no. I don't need to get to know you better first. Everything I need to know is what happens to me when I look into your eyes.

Fake it 'til you make it, bitch.

You know what makes me stop crying?"
"What, darlin'?"
"Kisses. Lots and lots of kisses."
"Careful what you wish for, beautiful.

Never gonna forget a single day, baby. Good and bad, they all add up to the story of us. I'm gonna take everyone one and cherish it, come what may.

Meeting you is a gift, and it will always be a gift, no matter how long we have together. So what I promised still stands: I'm yours until September. If you still want me.

Okay, superstar. Here's three words for you. You ready?"
I adopt a serious face, though my heart is hammering. "I'm ready."
Looking into my eyes, she says calmly, "Let's get married."
I almost topple over onto the floor. "What?"
"You don't have to shout at me. You did ask for three words, after all."
I'm so astonished I almost can't from a sentence. "B-but I thought… I meant… I love you!"
She smiles serenely at me. "I know you do, Mason. I love you, too. So much."
"No - I meant I thought you were going to say I love you!"
"I know you did, honey, but I figured unless I popped the question first, you'd carry that big pink diamond around for who knows how long before you got around to asking me, so…" She shrugs. "Here we are."
My jaw hangs open. "You know about the ring?"
Waldine throws herself onto one of the sofas, props her feet up on the arm, folds her arms behind her head, and grins at me.
"Son, half of Atlanta knows about the ring. You think you could sneak into a jewelry shop and plunk down millions on a piece of ice in that town and nobody would hear about it? Psh.

We're all just here for a blip in time, riding on a rock that's flying through space at a million miles a day in a galaxy that has a hundred billion stars. Me, Jay Z, the president, a goldfish... in the end there's not much difference, chère. We come and go. We live and die. If we're lucky, we love and are loved.

Oh, chere," said Moma softly. "Dying isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me. It's just the only thing I won't live through.

How do you tell someone it's surprisingly easy to surrender to horror once you accept there's no way out? Survival is simply the art of suffering gracefully when we're up against forces out of our control. I lost my fear of dying because I expected it every minute of every day.
Tomorrows only exist in our minds.

Holy fucking yellow submarines, this woman is my kryptonite.

I thought love was supposed to be weak knees and butterflies in your stomach and a terrible longing that could never be quenched."
Eeny shook her head, chuckled, came over and embraced me. "No, child", she said gently, patting my back. "That's romance. Romance is build on doubt. Love is solid. Constant. If you're not careful, you might mistake it for bein' boring because it's so reliable. Love is warm and deep and comfortable, just right, so you float in peacefully without ever being scalded or frozen, like a perfect, relaxing bubble bath.

No questions. No strings. You were right: it's the only way it'll work."
Dismayed, I stare at him. "But James--"
"Until September comes and you walk out of my life forever, we're going to spend every day as if its out last. No regrets. No looking back or forward. Just being in the moment. Making every minute count. Making memories we both can treasure after we go back to our real lives.

Hate will devour you. Anger, no matter how righteous it feels, is a straight, short path to hell.

I know I was an idiot, but I swear I've changed."
My brows lifted. "Really? Got a brain transplant, did you?

It's the struggle that refines them," he explained, "the challenge. Give them too much water, sunshine, and fertile soil and they grow fat and tasteless, like a Concord grape, appetizing only when saturated with sugar and made into jelly. Or they wither and die of boredom. Like people. The best ones are survivors. Stripped of chaff, refined by struggle and hardship, they're rendered complex and potent by their very endurance and ability to thrive in spite of deprivation.

His gaze drops to my mouth.When he looks into my eyes again,his voice is husky.
„You were wrong,before."
Confused,I frown. „About what?"
His jaw works.For the first time,there's a
Flash of emotion in his eyes,something other
Than contempt.
„About not doing anything to make me hate you.
You've done plenty.

Because you have a smile like a sunrise and eyes that could end all wars,

Cam says, "Look at me, lass. Look at this body." He throws out his arms, juts out his chin, and puffs out his chest. "You think I got this perfect physique by starvin' myself? You think I became the world's most famous, beloved athlete by tryin' to be skinny?"
"I'm sorry, could you repeat the question? Your ego is blocking my ears."
"The human body is a complex machine. A temple, as they say. You have to treat it like one!"
"Yeah, well, my temple is more like an abandoned ruin the jungle has taken over and a herd of billy goats is living in.

I don't think I have dreams anymore. I think they all died the same day I did, back on that sunny afternoon in spring.

Carbs are proof that God loves us, don't you think?

I'm spinning, lost in a haze of pleasure, lost under the magic we make together, two perfect strangers who've found something rare.
We've unearthed a treasure most people dig for their entire lives and never find.

I'm about to turn you from a rooster to a hen, you preening little prick.

The same can't be said for my new client, who appears to have an angry goth porcupine nesting on top of his cranium. "Bed head" doesn't even begin to cover it. It looks like his preferred hair styling method is sticking his head into a blender and setting it to puree.

Jackson turned his left hand up and gazed down at the simple black tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He was silent for a long time, then looked up and met my eyes.
He said, "You're an avid reader. You know the meaning of semicolon."
I frowned. "It's when the author could have ended a sentence but chose not to."
"Exactly."
"I don't understand."
Jackson looked deep into my eyes. His smile might have been the saddest thing I'd ever seen. He said softly, "I'm the author, and the sentence is my life.

I'm in danger here. Serious, imminent danger of being charmed senseless by a handsome artist who arouses in me the duelling urges to run away screaming or strip naked and fling myself onto his torso and cling there like a crab.

Because I wanna get to know her.
Because I think she's beautiful, interestin', and sexy as fuck, and that laugh of hers knocks me on my ass. And I think she wants me, too only she's afraid.

Rocky beginnings are par for the course for every great romance.

Why is your nose so red?
Snort coke much?

"Okay, Sunshine, it's on," I mutter, then type.

Charming. That's called walking-in-cold-wind nose. However, if I knew I'd be bumping into you,
I'd definitely have turned to drugs to help me through the trauma.

Being nice is the worst thing a woman can be. Nice means you have to swallow your own feelings and focus on everyone else's. Nice means you don't speak up when you're wronged. Nice means being a people pleaser and a conciliator and worrying yourself to death over others' opinions. Nice means never getting what you really want.

A woman worth her salt should be the hardest thing a man has to work for in his life, because then she's a prize, not a gift," she told me. "Anything you get for free is worth exactly what you paid for it: nothing.

Fate is just the sum of all our bad decisions.

You never know what it's like to be someone else until you've lived what he's lived.

Goddamn bossy men. I should start a women's group for survivors of alpha males. There are probably millions of us worldwide, nursing bruised hopes, hearts, and uteruses.

Whatever it is you're doin', you better be sure. Take your time. Figure it out. But be sure. You owe it to yourself.

It's like a feeling. Like that feeling you get when you've been away from home for far too long, and you're tired and hungry, and just fucking spent, and your car is low on gas and it's getting dark, and you're sick of cheap hotels and cheap diners and every song on the radio and every thought in your head, and all you want to do is crawl into your own bed and fall into a dead sleep . . . and then you turn the last corner, and there it is. Home. All your troubles melt away with one big sigh, and you hit the gas hard, because you just can't stay away one second longer.

You're a guy: you can't help being a complete idiot. Comes with the junk.

I just brought myself to orgasm to the soundtrack of the exhibitionists getting it on.
I'm a pervert.
Kelly would be so proud.
As great as my impromptu little porno was, it did contain one glaring flaw: if a man ever slapped me on the ass, I'd whirl around and punch him in the face.

The myth of true love is one of the greatest self-deceptions ever embraced by the female sex. It's right up there with the ridiculous notion that money can't buy happiness and size doesn't matter.

Love is war, darlin'. Only thing in life worth sheddin' blood over.

A true friendship isn't based on what you think you can get out of it. It's based on respecting someone enough to let him be who he really is. A true friend is someone who says "I'm here for you" and proves it.

My throat raw with emotion, I said, "I thought love was supposed to be weak knees and butterflies in your stomach and a terrible longing that could never be quenched."

Eeny shook her head, chuckled, came over and embraced me. "No, child," she said gently, patting my back. "That's romance. Romance is built on doubt. Love is solid. Constant. If you're not careful, you might mistake it for bein' boring because it's so reliable. Love is warm and deep and comfortable, just right, so you float in it peacefully without ever being scalded or frozen, like a perfect, relaxing bubble bath.

"But it's also fierce and strong and demands all the best parts of you, the parts that are giving and honest and true. Love makes you a better person. It makes you want to be a better person. You know it's love when you feel comfortable just as you are, when you feel seen and understood, when you know you could tell all your darkest truths and they'd be accepted without judgement."

Eeny pulled away and gently smoothed a hand over my hair. "Love isn't butterflies, boo. It isn't weak knees. It's a pride of lions. It's a pack of wolves. It's 'I've got your back even if it costs me my own life,' because unlike romance that fizzles at the first sign of trouble, love will fight to the death. When it's love, you'll go to war to avenge even the slightest offense. And you'll be justified.

"Because of all the marvelous and terrible things we can experience in this lif

Life isn't always unfair, Mariana. Lots of bad shit happens, but good things happen, too, and you need to be able to recognize the good when it comes along. You need to be able to accept it and deal with it, same as you deal with the bad. Love is as real as hate. You know how to survive. But that's not the same as living.

There exists a field, beyond all notions of right and wrong. I will meet you there.

Just feel me. Just feel me and breathe.

Truth, like honor and courage and love, does not come in shades of gray. You either have it or you don't - there is no in between. Sometimes it takes a lifetime to uncover it, and sometimes it is clear and simple as a sunrise. Also like honor and courage and love, sometimes the truth can be lost, and you have to find your way back to it, crawling over fields of broken glass and dead bodies, your knees and hands bloody and raw, until you get to it and it's even sweeter than before because of what you suffered on the way.

If letting the past go were as easy as simply deciding to do it, I wouldn't be here in the first place, thousands of miles from home. But the thing people don't realize is that the past is a living, breathing entity that exists apart from our wishes or best intentions. It's not gone, and it's certainly not invisible. Its fingerprints are smeared all over every moment of the present, its weight drags on every second of the future, its consequences echo down every hallway of our lives.
We can no more rid ourselves of the past than we could stop the earth from spinning.

Anyone that insults my country, my intelligence, my feminist ideals, all women in general, and a favorite childhood food, and refers to both himself and me in the third person in one sentence automatically gets an honorary spot on my Hate With Every Fiber of My Being For All Time list.

She was my religion. My north and south, my heaven and earth, the axis of rightness around which everything had suddenly aligned. For the first time in mi life, all my polarized parts worked as one, humming happily along in harmony with the univers, finally understanding their place.

Racism isn't about where you were born. It's about how small your heart is.

My mama always told me there are few things a good hug can't cure, and those things are what bourbon's for.

Dear God. The man just fucked the truth right out of me.

I love you the way I love the smell of old books.

Trust me, if murder was legal, I'd have killed dozens of people by now.

Why is it that when a woman's been through a lot, she's expected to handle it gracefully with fake smiles and a stiff backbone, but when a man's been through a lot, he's given full license to storm around like a giant baby throwing a tantrum?

I only joke about politics, religion and the size of men's dicks, never about something important

Dressed in a black pair of men's boxer shorts rolled over at the waist so they didn't sag down her legs and a white men's undershirt she must have found in one of the dresser drawers, with her choppy blue hair sticking up in every direction and her wild, glittering eyes, she looked like an insane, cross-dressing pixie.

This kiss is a gold medal winner, a heart breaker, a soul stealer, a dream. This kiss is everything I never knew I needed. This is the kiss that will ruin me, I know it is, but because it's so brain-meltingly decadent, I don't care. I'll worry about my ruination later.