Appreciating Friends With Swear Words Quotes

I did not mean to be a Christian. I have been very clear about that. My first words upon encountering the presence of Jesus for the first time 12 years ago, were, I swear to God, "I would rather die." I really would have rather died at that point than to have my wonderful brilliant left-wing non-believer friends know that I had begun to love Jesus. I think they would have been less appalled if I had developed a close personal friendship with Strom Thurmond. At least there is some reason to believe that Strom Thurmond is a real person. You know, more or less.

But I never felt like I had much choice with Jesus; he was relentless. I didn't experience him so much as the hound of heaven, as the old description has it, as the alley cat of heaven, who seemed to believe that if it just keeps showing up , mewling outside your door, you'd eventually open up and give him a bowl of milk. Of course, as soon as you do, you are fucked, and the next thing you know, he's sleeping on your bed every night, and stepping on your chest at dawn to play a little push-push.

I resisted as long as I could, like Sam-I-Am in "Green Eggs and Ham" - I would not, could not in a boat! I could not would not with a goat! I do not want to follow Jesus, I just want expensive cheeses. Or something. Anyway, he wore me out. He won.

I was tired and vulnerable and he won. I let him in. This is what I said at the moment of my conversion: I said, "Fuck it. Come in. I quit." He started ~ Anne Lamott

Mowbray! Been a while since you bothered with the season. What brings you to town?"
Lord Adrian Montfort, Earl of Mowbray, shifted his gaze from the couples whirling past on the dance floor and to the man who approached: the tall, fair, eminently good-looking Reginald Greville. He and Greville, his cousin, had once been the best of friends. However, time and distance had weakened the bond - with a little help from the war with France, Adrian thought bitterly. Ignoring Reginald's question, he offered a somewhat rusty smile in greeting, then turned his gaze back to the men and women swinging elegantly about the dance floor. He replied instead, "Enjoying the season, Greville?"
"Certainly, certainly. Fresh blood. Fresh faces."
"Fresh victims," Mowbray said dryly, and Reginald laughed. "That too." Reginald was well-known for his success in seducing young innocents. Only his title and money kept him from being forced out of town.
Shaking his head, Adrian gave that rusty smile again. "I wonder you never tire of the chase, Reg. They all look sadly similar to me. I would swear these were the very same young women who were entering their first season the last time I attended…and the time before that, and the time before that." His cousin smiled easily, but shook his head. "It has been ten years since you bothered to come to town, Adrian. Those women are all married and bearing fruit, or well on their way to spinsterhood."
"Different faces, same ladies," Ad ~ Lynsay Sands

When I was a kid, there was no collaboration; it's you with a camera bossing your friends around. But as an adult, filmmaking is all about appreciating the talents of the people you surround yourself with and knowing you could never have made any of these films by yourself. ~ Steven Spielberg

So how are the wedding plans progressing?" Richard asked, once they were out of the village.
"They aren't." Breckenridge heard his clipped tones, heard the irritation beneath. Didn't care if Richard did, too. "She's taken some nitwit notion into her head that I don't need to marry her, that she's going to go off and manage an orphanage in the country, or some such thing, so her social ruination doesn't matter."
"Ah." Richard nodded sagely. "She's playing stubborn."
"Playing?" Breckenridge shot him an irate look. "She's the definition of the word. I've already tried talking her around. Twice."
"I hate to break it to you, old son, but it won't be your honeyed words that change her mind."
Breckenridge snorted. "I've tried that, too-so far all that's gained me is..." An even deeper sense of being irrevocably linked to her.
Richard glanced at him curiously. "What?"
Breckenridge pulled a face, growled, "Damned if I know."
Richard grinned. "Well, whatever it takes, just console yourself with the thought that the end result will be worth it."
Breckenridge cast Richard a sharp glance, saw the open contentment in his face. Felt compelled to ask, "So what did you have to do?"
Richard's smile deepened. "The same thing we've all have to do-prostrate ourselves at their dainty feet, swear undying love, and mean it. ~ Stephanie Laurens

We have been waiting for an hour when we see a squad of German soldiers line up on the roadbed alongside the train. Next comes a column of people in civilian clothes. Surely they are Jews. All of them are rather well dressed, with suitcases in their hands as if departing peacefully on vacation. They climb aboard the train while a sergeant major keeps them moving along, "Schnell, schnell." There are men and women of all ages, even children. Among them I see one of my former students, Jeanine Crémieux. She got married in 1941 and had a baby last spring. She is holding the infant in her left arm and a suitcase in her right hand. The first step is very high above the rocky roadbed. She puts the suitcase on the step and holds on with one hand to the doorjamb, but she can't quite hoist herself up. The sergeant major comes running, hollers, and kicks her in the rear. Losing her balance, she screams as her baby falls to the ground, a pathetic little white wailing heap. I will never know if it was hurt, because my friends pulled me back and grabbed my hand just as I was about to shoot.

Today I know what hate is, real hate, and I swear to myself that these acts will be paid for. ~ Lucie Aubrac

After a while, Hannah said, "I heard Papa and Mama talking last night. Mama told Papa she thinks John Larkin is fond of me."
To my annoyance, a little smile danced across her face. "I'm fond of John too," she admitted, "but Papa--"
Hannah bit her lip and frowned. "Papa said a girl with my notions will never find a husband. He told Mama I'd end up an old-maid suffragette. Those were his very words, Andrew."
Forgetting everything except making her happy, I said, "No matter what Papa thinks, you'll marry John. What's more, women will get the vote and drive cars and do everything men do, even wear trousers and run for president."
Hannah sucked in her breath. "The way you talk, Andrew. I could swear you've been looking in a crystal ball."
Clapping my hand over my mouth, I stared at her. Whatever had made me say so much? I didn't even want to think about her marrying John, and here I'd gone and told her she would, as well as revealing a bunch of other stuff she shouldn't know.
"Do you see anything else in my future?" Hannah was leaning toward me, her face inches from mine, gazing into my eyes, her lips slightly parted. "Will John and I be happy? Will we have lots of children? Will we live a long, long time?"
I tightened my grip on the branch. I was drowning, losing my identity, speaking words that made no sense. "You'll be old when I'm young," I whispered, "but I'll remember, I'll never forget, I'll always love--"
"What are you talking about? ~ Mary Downing Hahn

I could not have written this book the way I wanted to without the insight of one such friend, Brent Dempsey. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being so generous with your time and for helping me get it right. I solemnly swear to never again use the words stakeout or perp. ~ Julie James

Sometimes I hate this language with its false words like sunset. The sun does not set. It doesn't rise either. It just stays there in one place, yet we get all romantic, huddling on beaches to watch its so-called departure, when it is we who turn away from it, which is a good thing-if the sun could turn, it would never come back, it'd just keep going, look for some better planet to nourish.

Moonlight is another lie. It's a luminescent echo. The moon is a politician whose speeches are written by the sun. I long for a world where witnesses in court must place their hands on a dictionary when they swear. A world where an archer must ask an arrow's permission before loading it into a crossbow. A world with inverted flashlights that shoot out beams of darkness, so you can go to the beach and sabotage sunbathers, rob them of their shine.

A world where people eat animals they wish to emulate. But who the hell am I? I'm just the spark from two people who rubbed their genitals together like sticks in a forest one October night because they were cold. I'm just burning the firecracker at both ends. Every morning I get up and swallow my weirdness pills.

I know the glass is half full, but it's a shot glass, and there are four of us, and we're all very thirsty. I know it's easy not to cry over spilled milk when you've got another carton in the fridge. ~ Jeffrey McDaniel

It's 4am again and I'm just getting started. People are boring and I want to burn with excitement or anger and bleed, bleed through my words. I want to get all fucked up and write real and raw and ugly and beautifully. I bet you're sleeping safe and calm, and you can stay there, it's safer there, and you wouldn't stand one night on this journey my mind wanders off to every night you close your eyes. I'll stay here one day and I will never come down.
I promise I can fly before I hit the ground.
It doesn't even hurt anymore.
I swear, it doesn't hurt. ~ Charlotte Eriksson

It's a simple domestic tale, about a girl who has problems getting married, and how she deals with her relations and friends. Miss Dalrymple has quite an eye for character; I'd swear some of her people must be drawn from life, and it's no wonder she wants to remain anonymous. ~ Margaret Westhaven

Whether it's putting on a bunny costume and running with friends, or simply appreciating the whining coming out of the guy next to you, races offer moments when you can simply enjoy the people around you and feel happy. ~ Dana L. Ayers

I'm in a band. I don't go to church every Sunday. I love punk rock music. Sometimes I use swear words a lot. I respect and admire gay men and women. I'm obsessed with horror films. I know what shame feels like. And guess what old man? Jesus is still my Savior. ~ Hayley Williams

Your king is dead. Your prince lives. . . My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I am the Queen of Terrasen. . . Your prince is in mourning. Until he is ready, this city is mine. . . If you loot, if you riot, if you cause one lick of trouble, I will find you, and I will burn you to ash." She lifted a hand, and flames danced at her fingertips. "If you revolt against your new king, if you try to take his castle, then this wall"--she gestured with her burning hand--"will turn to molten glass and flood your streets, your homes, your throats. . . I killed your king. His empire is over. Your slaves are now free people. If I catch you holding on to your slaves, if I hear of any household keeping them captive, you are dead. If I hear of you whipping a slave, or trying to sell one, you are dead. So I suggest that you tell your friends, and families, and neighbors. I suggest that you act like reasonable, intelligent people. And I suggest that you stay on your best behavior until your king is ready to greet you, at which time I swear on my crown that I will yield control of this city to him. If anyone has a problem with it, you can take it up with my court." She motioned behind her. Rowan, Aedion, and Lysandra--bloodied, battered, filthy--grinning like hellions. "Or," Aelin said, the flames winking out on her hand, "you can take it up with me."
Not a word. She wondered whether they were breathing.
But Aelin didn't care as she strode off the platform, back through the gate ~ Sarah J. Maas

What am I busy doing at lunch?" I asked. "Did you want to go pick out some more paint? Because I thought you were still working on the GTO and the SS."

"No," he answered, not moving an inch, but instead, just watching me. "I brought you fucking lunch."

He brought me - did he just say lunch?

"There's a thing in the fridge with your name on it," Rip kept going, watching me steadily. "I could use your help later if you've got time."

All I heard was something about him needing my help if I had time, but what I really focused on was the container in the fridge with my name on it.

"Come get me if you do," he said, taking a step back like he hadn't just surprised the crap out of me.

But I could still get a few thoughts together, at least enough to call out, "What am I going to be doing tomorrow?"

He was still walking backward as he told me, "I'm bringing you lunch tomorrow too."

What was happening?

What was happening?

"You don't have to bribe me to be your friend! I've been waiting for this for years, Rip," I hollered after him, ignoring the way my stomach had just felt like we'd started a descent from a steep roller-coaster ride.

I'd swear I heard a chuckle as he answered, "Get to fucking work and come get me if you've got time to help me out."

We were friends.

We were.

Favor or not, you didn't bring someone food who you weren't f ~ Mariana Zapata

Supposedly Kaidan's having a difficult time 'cause he can't say swear words in every sentence," Marna said with a smile. "He's determined to find signs for cursing or make some up himself. ~ Wendy Higgins

I'm falling in love with you, Nathan."
At her words he groaned and wrapped both arms around her, holding her to his heart.
"Sweetheart, I'm right there with you. And I swear I'll catch you if you'll trust me enough to let yourself fall the rest of the way."
She smiled, kissed the center of his chest where his heart beat strong and steady beneath her lips.
"I do trust you." He'd earned her trust in giving him her heart, as well her body. ~ Kaylea Cross

I swear, if Dan had claimed he could saw off more of his fingers than I could of my own, then one of us would've pointed a hand-turned-stump at the other and cackled with victory. ~ S. Hart

Maris smiled as he saw that day so clearly in his mind. He'd been pinned to the school wall by a bully who'd been pounding on him. Out of nowhere, this tiny little red-haired boy had come charging in like a hurricane. Barely five years old, Darling had been short for his age. But what he lacked in height, he made up for in ferocity. In no time at all, he'd beat the bully back and had him on the ground, crying for his mother. After making him swear he'd never even look at Maris again, Darling had stood up and come over to him. Forever proud and fierce, Darling had wiped the blood from his lips, then offered Maris his other hand. "Hi, I'm Darling Cruel. We should be friends." Maris had fallen in love instantly. And he'd been in love with Darling every day since. "You ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Let her go or I'll shoot you."
"I've never met a woman who'd have the guts to shoot a man," he sneered. All the women he knew were too kind. Too gentle.
"I have the guts," the girl said. "Better yet, I want to shoot you."
That shook him. The words, and the tone, a kind of flat, plain aversion the like of which he'd never met in all of his privileged life. What had he ever done to deserve this girl's contempt? And why did he even care? "Which part of me will you shoot?" he mocked. "All that's showing is my head - and you can't be that good with a gun."
"I am," the girl said. "On the count of three, I'll shoot. One . . ."
"You'd take the chance of hurting Miss Victorine?" he asked.
"I won't hurt her. Two . . ."
"Amy, please, let him go!" Miss Victorine begged. "He was such a sweet boy."
"Three." Amy's eyes narrowed. Her finger began to squeeze the trigger.
And he released Miss Victorine, spinning her away from him and into a cabinet.
She landed with a thud and fell. The pistol roared.
He dived to the floor.
A shot whistled past the place where his head had been.
"Damn, that was close. Good thing you surrendered, my lord!"
"Don't swear, dear, it's not ladylike. ~ Christina Dodd

I had just sat down with my plate of food and hit play on the new CD player I'd received the night before, ready to hear the sounds of Handel's opening movement, when I remembered the horses.

"Ah hell!" I cursed, sounding exactly like my dad. It was hard not to grow up swearing when you lived on a farm. We never took the Lord's name in vain or said the F-word, but pretty much damn, hell, and shit were part of the vernacular of most folks born and raised in Levan. To tell the truth, those words weren't really considered swear words. Last week in church, Gordon Aagard was giving a sermon on trials. He referred to horse shit right in the middle of his talk, and nobody really batted an eye. ~ Amy Harmon

show me your face
i crave
flowers and gardens
open your lips
i crave
the taste of honey
come out from
behind the clouds
i desire a sunny face
your voice echoed
saying "leave me alone"
i wish to hear your voice
again saying "leave me alone"
i swear this city without you
is a prison
i am dying to get out
to roam in deserts and mountains
i am tired of
flimsy friends and
submissive companions
i die to walk with the brave
am blue hearing
nagging voices and meek cries
i desire loud music
drunken parties and
wild dance
one hand holding
a cup of wine
one hand caressing your hair
then dancing in orbital circle
that is what i yearn for
i can sing better than any nightingale
but because of
this city's freaks
i seal my lips
while my heart weeps
yesterday the wisest man
holding a lit lantern
in daylight
was searching around town saying
i am tired of
all these beasts and brutes
i seek
a true human
we have all looked
for one but
no one could be found
they said
yes he replied
but my search is
for the one
who cannot be found ~ Rumi

i'm angry with life, yes i'm angry with world
i'm angry with strangers , i'm angry with relatives
i'm angry with my friends , i'm angry with my enemies
i'm angry with hate ,i'm angry with love
i'm angry with day ,i am angry with night
i'm angry with morning ,i'm angry with evening
i'm angry with conversation ,i'm angry with emotions
i'm angry with feelings , i'm angry with passion
i'm angry with every false promises , i'm angry with every lie swear
i'm angry with truth i'm angry with lie
i'm angry with reality, i'm angry with dreams
i'm angry with fire hidden inside me,
i'm angry with softness which inside me
i'm angry with thirst which disturbing me
i'm angry with ocean which not for me
i'm angry with tears,i'm angry with smile
i'm angry with my breaths
i'm angry with my heart beats
i'm angry with your laziness .death you are lazy
i'm angry with everything,i'm angry with every one
yes i'm angry with God,Because i'm angry with my self
i'm angry with my self,i'm angry with my self ~ Mohammed Zaki Ansari

He opened his mouth to speak, finally initiating conversation with me!
"'Sup, Viv?"
The man was a poet. I had no words. Strike that, I had one.
"'Sup?"
He grinned at me, and I swear on all that is holy a sunbeam broke through the clouds and shone directly on him, highlighting the planes of his exquisite face and letting me know that beauty had a name, and its name was Hank. ~ Alice Clayton

Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
Traveling with me you find what never tires.
The earth never tires,
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop'd,
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
Allons! we must not stop here,
However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling we cannot remain here,
However shelter'd this port and however calm these waters we must not anchor here,
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted to receive it but a little while."
-from "Song of the Open Road ~ Walt Whitman

Even when I was a kid, I had a good thing with kids. To this day, if I go to a birthday party with one of my kids, I swear to you, I am so much happier hanging out with my kids and their friends than talking to the grown-ups. ~ Shawn Levy

Go out there and swear to this world your oath, not with your words, but with what you do. Not with your hand over your heart, but with your hand outstretched to a world that desperately needs your hand, your help, your insights, your creativity, your honor, your courage. It needs you. ~ Cory Booker

Brilliant blue gazes met. "I swear before you and God that I will. But if something should happen, and this morning should go awry, promise me you'll take care of her. Promise me you'll tell her ... " Ralston paused.
"Tell her what?"
Ralston took a deep breath, the words bringing a tightening in his chest. "Promise me you'll tell her that I was an idiot. That the money didn't matter. That, last night, faced with the terrifying possibility that I had lost her ... I realized that she was the most important thing I had ever had ... because of my arrogance and my unwillingness to accept what has been in my heart for too long ... " He trailed off. "What the hell have I done?"
"It appears that you've gone and fallen in love. ~ Sarah MacLean

Without thinking, Lillian let out a few curse words that caused Evie to blanch. One of Lillian's more questionable accomplishments was the ability to swear as fluently as a sailor, acquired from much time spent with her grandmother, who had worked as a washwoman at the harbor docks. ~ Lisa Kleypas

If asked in a court of law what happened and what was said, I could only attest to the words "heading," "stagnating" and "peaceable." I'd never thought of myself as peaceable - or its opposite - until then. I would also swear to the truth of the biscuit tin; it was burgundy red, with the Queen's smiling profile on it. ~ Julian Barnes

It was beautiful. Every second like a dream. Even if we didn't do anything but lie around and talk! I want nothing more than to be with him, Ellie. It's so...profound...it's frightening. I can't put it into words, but i swear i'd chuck it all to be with him. ~ Kahlen Aymes

While you're alive it's shameful to worm your way into
the Calendar of Saints.
Disbelief in yourself is more saintly.
It takes real talent not to dread being terrified
by your own agonizing lack of talent.

Disbelief in yourself is indispensable.
Indispensable to us is the loneliness
of being gripped in the vise,
so that in the darkest night the sky will enter you
and skin your temples with the stars,
so that streetcars will crash into the room,
wheels cutting across your face,
so the dangling rope, terrible and alive,
will float into the room and dance invitingly in the air.

Indispensable is any mangy ghost
in tattered, overplayed stage rags,
and if even the ghosts are capricious,
I swear, they are no more capricious than those who are alive.

Indispensable amidst babbling boredom
are the deadly fear of uttering the right words
and the fear of shaving, because across your cheekbone
graveyard grass already grows.

It is indispensable to be sleeplessly delirious,
to fail, to leap into emptiness.
Probably, only in despair is it possible
to speak all the truth to this age.

It is indispensable, after throwing out dirty drafts,
to explode yourself and crawl before ridicule,
to reassemble your shattered hands
from fingers that rolled under the dresser.

Indispensable is the cowardice to be cruel
an ~ Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Being single is about celebrating and appreciating your own space that you're in. I couldn't have lived alone before. I always needed someone to share my space but now I like being by myself. If I want to be with people then I see my friends; if I want a date then I'll have one. ~ Kelly Rowland

Dragging ourselves through the slides of pseudo reality , I have seen (us) craving for that " fix".

Glued to the small screens ,
Alike an "event horizon" ,
transporting us to other dimension ,
contemplating likes !
Obsessed with over cropped out images of our ex lovers lover,
Self contemplating and filtered obsession ,
who is getting fat and who all broke their back ,
Look at my carefully orchestrated life!
Ain't I clever ???

Look ,how much fun I had in the party!
.....look at how well liked I am .?!

I want all my 5000 fake friends to know that this is what fun is and I swear, I am ,having a good time!!! ~ BinYamin Gulzar

...one had to expect very little - almost nothing - from life, Aaron knew, one had to be grateful, not always trying to seize the days like some maniac of living, but to give oneself up, be seized by the days, the months and years, be taken up in the froth of sun and moon, some pale and smoothie-ed river-cloud of life, a long, drawn-out, gray sort of enlightenment, so that when it was time to die, one did not scream swear words and knock things down, did not make a scene, but went easily with understanding and tact, and quietly, in a lightly pummeled way, having been consoled–having allowed to be consoled–by the soft, generous, worthlessness of it all, having allowed to be massaged by the daily beating of life, instead of just beaten. ~ Tao Lin

Where I lived - winter and hard earth.
I sat in my cold stone room
choosing tough words, granite, flint,
to break the ice. My broken heart -
I tried that, but it skimmed,
flat, over the frozen lake.
She came from a long, long way,
but I saw her at last, walking,
my daughter, my girl, across the fields,
In bare feet, bringing all spring's flowers
to her mother's house. I swear
the air softened and warmed as she moved,
the blue sky smiling, none too soon,
with the small shy mouth of a new moon. ~ Carol Ann Duffy