Be Nice To Your Friends Quotes

Don't be too formal with familiar friends, lest you become an object of hate ~ Michael Bassey Johnson

Let's take another look at that awful word 'desperate.' As Stephanie Coontz points out, the fact that we throw this label on women who have refrained from marrying is absurd. 'It's understandable that many women are anxious about the prospect of finding a good husband,' Coontz wrote in Marriage, a History. 'But few modern women are actually desperate to marry. Historically, desperate is agreeing to marry a much older man whom you find physically repulsive. Desperate is closing your eyes to prostitutes and mistresses and praying you don't get a venereal disease. Desperate is having child after child because your husband won't let you use birth control or covering the bruises you got last night when you hurry to the market to shop for the evening meal. Women today may be anxious about finding a mate, but most could not even imagine being that desperate.'

You didn't rush back to that mediocre relationship. You didn't grit your teeth and enter some passionless union with a perfectly nice guy who doesn't get you. There are people who are afraid to be alone, who head for the nearest warm body after each breakup, or who stay in miserable relationships because the alternative is so terrifying. But that's not you, is it? ~ Sara Eckel

Always be nice to your children because they are the ones who will choose your rest home. ~ Phyllis Diller

It is so much easier to be nice, to be respectful, to put yourself in your customers' shoes and try to understand how you might help them before they ask for help, than it is to try to mend a broken customer relationship. ~ Mark Cuban

Why do you want to know?"
The shrug again. "Just wondering."
"Really. You've skipped your lawn tennis or duck hunting or whiskey drinking or whatever else people of your sort do all day, only to come all the way out to the island to ask me about the piano piece. Because you were just wondering." I pushed away from the door. "Coming here to kiss me would have been more believable."
"Well, it was second on my list."
"I'm not intimidated by you," I said, blunt. "If you're hoping I'll turn out to be some pathetic, blubbering little rag-girl who begs you not to ruin her, you're in for a surprise."
"That's good." Lord Armand met my eyes. "I like surprises."
We gazed at each other, he on the bed and me by the door, neither of us giving quarter. It seemed to me that the room was growing even more dim, that time was repeating the same ploy it had pulled in Jesse's cottage, drawing out long and slow. The storm outside railed against the castle walls, drowning the air within. It layered darkness through Armand's eyes, the once-vivid blue now deep as the ocean at night.
Beyond my window the rain fell and fell, fat clouds weeping as if they'd never stop.
"Nice bracelet," Armand said softly. "Did you steal it?"
I shook my head. "You gave it to me."
"Did I?"
"As far as everyone else if concerned, yes. You did."
"Hmm. And what do I get in return for agreeing to be your…benefactor?"
"The answer to your question."
"No kiss?" ~ Shana Abe

Sometimes I like to think it would be nice if you just had a character, and your personal life was your personal life. My life is definitely out there, you know? ~ Jenna Marbles

Uh-huh. I think she was flattered. It'll help fill her bucket." "Huh?" "You know - the bucket ... " "What are you talking about?" "Well, the elementary school teachers talk about the bucket a lot. Everyone has one. When people say nice things to you, do nice things, make you feel better about yourself, they're filling your bucket. When people are mean or insulting or hurtful in any way, they're emptying your bucket and you don't want to go around with an empty bucket. It makes you sad and cranky. And you don't want to be emptying other peoples' buckets - that also makes you unhappy. The best way is to fill all the buckets you can and keep yours nice and full by looking for positive people and experiences." She smiled. Troy leaned his elbow on the bar and rested his head in his hand. "What do I have to do to get a job with you?" "Master's degree in counseling." She took a sip. "Easy peasy. You'd be great. ~ Robyn Carr

Besides, I thought it was kind of cool that you noticed I have good dexterity." he waved his fingers in front of my face. "I like the idea of you thinking about what my hands can do." He winked before turning to leave.
I flushed even redder. "I wasn't thinking about your hands," I called after him.
"Sure you weren't."
"I wasn't. I was trying to be nice."
Drew turned around to face me, leaning against the doorjamb. "Admit it. you're thinking about it now." He saluted and left.
I kicked the cart Darn it. Now I was thinking about it. ~ Eileen Cook

Christopher, family for me was never blood. It was always the family I chose. But it turns out it's nice to have someone I'm related to in this world. Someone I can tell boring family stories to. Do you know about Will Herondale? Or James Herondale?"
"I don't think so," said Kit.
"Excellent. Hours of your time will be ruined," said Jace. ~ Cassandra Clare

Throughout much of history, women writers have capitulated to male standards, and have paid too much heed to what Virginia Woolf calls "the angel in the house." She is that little ghost who sits on one's shoulder while one writes and whispers, "Be nice, don't say anything that will embarrass the family, don't say anything your man will disapprove of ... " [ellipsis in original] The "angel in the house" castrates one's creativity because it deprives one of essential honesty, and many women writers have yet to win the freedom to be honest with themselves. ~ Erica Jong

I would never sabotage you, Mya." He wiped away one of my stray tears with his fingertips. "Of course, deep down I did want you to stay, but I had nothing but nice things to say about you. I even said they'd be foolish not to hire you, but - " "But?" I glared at him. "But what?" "But if they thought the low-ass salaries they were offering were good enough for you, they needed to increase them exponentially or move along to someone else. I thought you deserved more." "Is that all?" "No," he said, looking into my eyes. "I also needed to personally interview each of the CEOs myself. Needed to make sure each one was a good fit for you, and that whoever you worked for next was already married." I opened my mouth to ask him if he was being serious, but he beat me to it. "Yes," he said, smirking. "Yes, I 'seriously' did need to do that." "What does the CEO being married have to do with anything, Michael? What if I have no interest in seeing you after I quit?" "You do, so we're not even going to entertain that line of conversation." He rolled his eyes. "If the CEO is already married, I won't have to worry about 'this' happening at your next place of employment, and I can be somewhat less jealous." "How selfish of you." I couldn't believe him, but for some reason I couldn't help the smile that was forming on my face. ~ Whitney G.

I hear you're quite the writer. Quite the teacher's pet."
"I ... I don't know what you mean."
"No? The maybe you're in for a surprise. A maybe it won't be a nice one."
Kate heard her voice lashing out, braver than she felt.
"I don't know what you're talking about. But nothing that pertains to me is any of your business.'
The match hissed again. She saw his black, black eyes flickering.
"You're right. How inconsiderate of me."
Shaken, Kate willed her feet to move her forward.
"You should be more careful," Pearce said. "Anyone could find your key. Anyone could get into your cabin."
Kate whirled to face him. "I have a roommate. I'm not alone."
"A roommate?" And he sounded like he was smiling ... a dark strange smile as if she'd said something particularly funny. "If someone wanted to get you," Pearce said slowly, and another match went out, "a roommate wouldn't stop them. They'd just get you. Wouldn't they? ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick

I didn't know my dad in person and I never got to say goodbye to him at his funeral and I thought it would be nice to say a few words now that I sort of feel I know him a bit better.' She gave a nervous smile, and pushed a strand of hair from her face.

'So. Will … Dad. When I first found out you were my real father, I'll be honest, I was a bit freaked out. I'd hoped my real dad was going to be this wise, handsome man, who would want to teach me stuff and protect me and take me on trips to show me amazing places that he loved. And what I actually got was an angry man in a wheelchair who just, you know, killed himself. But because of Lou, and your family, over the last few months I've come to understand you a bit better.

'I'll always be sad and maybe even a bit angry that I never got to meet you, but now I want to say thank you too. ". You gave me a lot, without knowing it. I think I'm like you in good ways – and probably a few not-so-good ways. You gave me blue eyes and my hair colour and the fact that I think Marmite is revolting and the ability to do black ski runs and … Well, apparently you also gave me a certain amount of moodiness – that's other people's opinion, by the way. Not mine.'

'But mostly you gave me a family I didn't know I had. And that's cool. Because, to be honest, it wasn't going that well before they all turned up.' Her smile wavered.

' So, um, Will … Dad, I'm not going to go on and on because speeches are bo ~ Jojo Moyes

A Girl's Garden"

A neighbor of mine in the village
Likes to tell how one spring
When she was a girl on the farm, she did
A childlike thing.

One day she asked her father
To give her a garden plot
To plant and tend and reap herself,
And he said, 'Why not?'

In casting about for a corner
He thought of an idle bit
Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood,
And he said, 'Just it.'

And he said, 'That ought to make you
An ideal one-girl farm,
And give you a chance to put some strength
On your slim-jim arm.'

It was not enough of a garden
Her father said, to plow;
So she had to work it all by hand,
But she don't mind now.

She wheeled the dung in a wheelbarrow
Along a stretch of road;
But she always ran away and left
Her not-nice load,

And hid from anyone passing.
And then she begged the seed.
She says she thinks she planted one
Of all things but weed.

A hill each of potatoes,
Radishes, lettuce, peas,
Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn,
And even fruit trees.

And yes, she has long mistrusted
That a cider-apple
In bearing there today is hers,
Or at least may be.

Her crop was a miscellany
When all was said and done,
A little bit of everything,
A great deal of none.

Now when she sees in the village
How village thi ~ Robert Frost

It's nice when one of these books falls into your hands. It's nice when you read through the first few pages and realize it's going to be a good one, and you settle down, knowing you've got pages and pages to go. You settle into the sofa and put your feet up, feel all that thickness in your hand, and just wonder what it's got in store for you. ~ Elliot Mabeuse

Kindness is going out of your way to perform favors regarded as wonderful by the recipient. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

This is my friend Veronica," I told him. "And this is Kaidan."
"Oh, I've heard all about you." Veronica gave him a big smile.
His brow elevated, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he stared at me funny. "Nice wart." Leaning forward without touching me, he flicked the wart from the tip of my nose.
Veronica let out a loud cackle, proving she should be the one in my costume.
"I told you it was stupid!" She gloated.
With my pointer finger, I moved the paint around my nose to fill in the blank spot. When I finished, he was still watching me.
"Your hair's grown a lot," I said to him.
"So has your bottom."
My eyes rounded and blood rushed to my face. Veronica hooted with hilarity, bending at the waist. Even Jay let out a loud snicker, the traitor.
I wished Kaidan weren't so perceptive, but it was true. The feminine curves that had always eluded me were finally making an appearance. Stupid tight dress.
"Dude, you can get away with anything," said the pirate to the straight-faced ape.
"I meant it as a compliment."
"That was awesome." Veronica grabbed Jay by the hand. "Come on. Let's go find me a drink."
She winked at me as they ambled away. I gave my attention to the dry, trampled grass and scattered cans for a moment before working up the nerve to say something.
"My dad gave me a cell phone." And a car. And a ton of money.
Kaidan set the ape head on the ground and pulled his phone from a fuzzy pocket, blowi ~ Wendy Higgins

How do I define success? Let me tell you, money's pretty nice. But having a lot of money does not automatically make you a successful person. What you want is money and meaning. You want your work to be meaningful, because meaning is what brings the real richness to your life. ~ Oprah Winfrey

I'm jittery.It's like the animatronic band from Chuck E. Cheese is throwing a jamboree in my stomach. I've always hated Chuck E. Cheese. Why am I thinking about Chuck E. Cheese? I don't know why I'm nervous.I'm just seeing my mom again. And Seany.And Bridge! Bridge said she'd come.
St. Clair's connecting flight to San Francisco doesn't leave for another three hours,so we board the train that runs between terminals,and he walks me to the arrivals area.We've been quiet since we got off the plane. I guess we're tired. We reach the security checkpoint,and he can't go any farther. Stupid TSA regulations.I wish I could introduce him to my family.The Chuck E. Cheese band kicks it up a notch,which is weird, because I'm not nervous about leaving him. I'll see him again in two weeks.
"All right,Banana.Suppose this is goodbye." He grips the straps of his backpack,and I do the same.
This is the moment we're supposed to hug. For some reason,I can't do it.
"Tell your mom hi for me. I mean, I know I don't know her. She just sounds really nice. And I hope she's okay."
He smiles softly. "Thanks.I'll tell her."
"Call me?"
"Yeah,whatever. You'll be so busy with Bridge and what's-his-name that you'll forget all about your English mate, St. Clair."
"Ha! So you are English!" I poke him in the stomach.
He grabs my hand and we wrestle, laughing. "I claim....no...nationality."
I break free. "Whatever,I totally caught you. Ow!" A gray-haired man in sun ~ Stephanie Perkins

Lee finished his third drink and turned to Allerton. "I figure to go down to South America soon," he said. "Why don't you come along? Won't cost you a cent." "Perhaps not in money." "I'm not a difficult man to get along with," said Lee. "We could reach a satisfactory arrangement. What you got to lose?" "Independence." "So who's going to cut in on your independence? You can lay all the women in South America if you want to. All I ask is be nice to Papa, say twice a week. ~ William S. Burroughs

Speaking of shooting, my lady," Mr. Pinter said as he came around the table, "I looked over your pistol as you requested. Everything seems to be in order."
Removing it from his coat pocket, he handed it to her, a hint of humor in his gaze. As several pair of male eyes fixed on her, she colored. To hide her embarrassment, she made a great show of examining her gun. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, which she grudgingly admitted was rather nice of him.
"What a cunning little weapon," the viscount said and reached for it. "May I?"
She handed him the pistol.
"How tiny it is," he exclaimed.
"It's a lady's pocket pistol," she told him as he examined it.
Oliver frowned at her. "When did you acquire a pocket pistol, Celia?"
"A little while ago," she said blithely.
Gabe grinned. "You may not know this, Basto, but my sister is something of a sharpshooter. I daresay she has a bigger collection of guns than Oliver."
"Not bigger," she said. "Finer perhaps, but I'm choosy about my firearms."
"She has beaten us all at some time or another at target shooting," the duke said dryly. "The lady could probably hit a fly at fifty paces."
"Don't be silly," she said with a grin. "A beetle perhaps, but not a fly." The minute the words were out of her mouth, she could have kicked herself. Females did not boast of their shooting-not if they wanted to snag husbands.
"You should come shooting with us," Oliver said. "Why not?"
The last thing she n ~ Sabrina Jeffries

It's very nice to be in a show where your vanity is completely out of the picture. ~ Joel Kinnaman

There is a LOT of bad news every day. The world seems to be getting more and more crazy.

So every time you see some bad news, go do something nice for someone or go create something. Write a poem or a song, draw or paint a picture, do something nice for a stranger, even something as simple as complimenting a stranger's outfit or doling out extra smiles during your day.

We have to balance out the evil of the world somehow. As artists we are most well equipped to do so! ~ Marcy Ferro

You're a good kid. If you'd work on your pain-in-the-ass tendencies, you'd be real nice."
"Too bad that isn't going to happen anytime soon," he muttered. "Real nice doesn't get you very far."
"Real nice can keep you from getting beat up," I said.
He smiled. "Right. Maybe we should both work on it, then. ~ Devon Monk

Define seduction.
Skimpy clothes. Lap dances. Sucking the red off a cherry lollipop.
I don't want to be a skank about it.
Look, sweetie. Obviously the nice girl, can-we-move-to-the-next-level-but-only-when-you're-ready routine has not worked. What you need is guns blazing, no-holds barred seduction. You need to stop approaching this so meekly and take control of the situation. You need to set the atmosphere. Scented candles. Lingerie. Wine. Dinner. Handcuffs.
Handcuffs? Really?
You don't want him to run, do you?
I worry about you sometimes.
Why do you think Lance has stuck around for so long?
Because you keep him chained to your bed?
That's not the point. ~ Em Wolf

I always want to take everybody down! But I think you can do it with a smile on your face and be nice and talking to them. You don't have to be mean or rude. ~ Lorena Ochoa

So, Cameron," Steph continued, "auditions for the school play are next week. You should come. We need more males of the species to try out."
"Not my thing," Cameron said.
"okay, so you don't want to be onstage. You could be backstage."
"With Jenna," Gil said helpfully. "She's the stage manager-"
Ethan talked over Gil. "But if it's not our thing," he said, "it's not your thing. You don't even have to have a thing if you don't want."
"Right," Katy said, "no thing required."
Cameron didn't respond, didn't even act like anyone was waiting for him to say anything. He just ate his lunch, scooping spaghetti onto a piece of bread and folding the bread over into a sort of sandwich before putting it in his mouth. I was fascinated by the most mundane little details of him-how he held his paper napkin in his left hand while he ate with his right, the space he took up when both his elbows were on the table.
I was suddenly aware that I'd been staring at him, and everyone else at the table was staring at me. They were all done with their lunches. I wondered how much time had passed.
"Um," Katy said to me, "are you all right?"
Steph caught my eye and smiled slowly.
"Oh,yeah." I concentrated on my half sandwich trying to think of something witty to say, but I was in total Jennifer Harris territory now, spacing out and forgetting how to make simple conversation.
Cameron picked up his empty tray. "Nice to meet you all. See you later." He li ~ Sara Zarr

Let me just tell you this, Watanabe," said Midori, pressing her cheek against my neck. "I'm a real, live girl, with real, live blood gushing through my veins. You're holding me in your arms and I'm telling you that I love you. I'm ready to do anything you tell me to do. I may be a little bit mad, but I'm a good girl, and honest, and I work hard, I'm kind of cute, I have nice boobs, I'm a good cook, and my father left me a trust fund. I mean, I'm a real bargain, don't you think? If you don't take me, I'll end up going somewhere else. ~ Haruki Murakami

I do it for the girls."

"What girls?"

He smirked. "They think it's sexy."

"It's not."

"No?"

"I assure you."

"Not sexy?"

"You look khila, like a half-wit."

"That hurts," he said.

"What girls anyway?"

"You're jealous."

"I'm indifferently curious."

"You can't be both." He took another drag and squinted through the smoke. "I'll bet they're talking about us now."

In Laila's head, Mammy's voice rang out. Like a mynah bird in your hands. Slacken your grip and away it flies. Guilt bore its teeth into her. Then Laila shut off Mammy's voice. Instead, she savored the way Tariq had said us. How thrilling, how conspiratorial, it sounded coming from him. And how reassuring to hear him say it like that - casually, naturally. Us. It acknowledged their connection, crystallized it.

"And what are they saying?"

"That we're canoeing down the River of Sin," he said.

"Eating a slice of Impiety Cake."

"Riding the Rickshaw of Wickedness?" Laila chimed in.

"Making Sacrilege Qurma."

They both laughed. Then Tariq remarked that her hair was getting longer. "It's nice," he said.

Laila hoped she wasn't blushing. "You changed the subject."

"From what?"

"The empty-headed girls who think you're sexy."

"You know."

"Know what?"

"That I only ~ Khaled Hosseini

It is nice to be around people who think differently than you. They challenge your ideas and keep you from being complacent. ~ Tucker Carlson

I swear you don't know how to have any fun at all," I teased.
"This is not exactly my idea of it," he said wryly.
I gestured toward the ballroom. "But you're royal. It's your kind of party. You should be relaxed, letting everyone suck up to you."
He laughed and my chest tightened. God, I loved that sound.
"Kendra, not everything about being royal is enjoyable."
"So what would you consider fun?" I asked, curious.
Tristan was obviously well-liked and respected. But I'd never seen him when he wasn't in either instructor, gardinel, or prince mode. I got the feeling he wasn't very social and spent a lot of time alone.
His eyes turned thoughtful. "Relaxing in a quiet room with a nice glass of scotch, listening to Bach."
I rolled my eyes. "Are you serious, grandpa?"
He hid a smile. ~ Emma Raveling

Who's that hot piece of cowboy standing with Nathan?" She pointed toward one end of the barn by a stack of hay bales.
A scowl tightened all the muscles in his face as he followed the length of her arm to the direction of her fingertip. Before he could answer, she was already pulling him again. This time toward his cousin.
"Nate, who's your friend?" she asked, not bothering with hellos. Letting go of Caleb's hand and leaving him feeling empty, she shifted her weight to her toes when she stopped in front of Preston. "Your eyes remind me of those old Sprite bottles. I found one at a flea market once. I think it's still lying around somewhere in my room."
Nathan's chuckle caught her attention. "Diana Alexander, let me introduce you to Preston Grant. He's a childhood friend of mine and Caleb's. Pres, this is Didi."
"Can I paint you naked?" she asked, unabashed, looking up at him. Nathan's chuckles became full-blown laughter. She hiked her thumb at Caleb. His scowl deepened. "This one's too shy."
"It's nice to meet you, Didi," Preston said. He seemed unperturbed by her request. The bastard.
She danced to Nathan's side and leaned in conspiratorially, not taking her eyes away from Preston. "Between you and me," she whispered loud enough for Caleb and the object of her fascination to hear, "just how far does his tan go?"
That had done it. The words came out of his mouth without thinking. "If you're going to paint someone naked, it will be me." With i ~ Kate Evangelista

You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said before, are unjust to Harriet. ... Waiving that point, however, and supposing her to be, as you describe her, only pretty and good-natured, let me tell you, that in the degree she possesses them, they are not trivial recommendations to the world in general, ... and till it appears that men are much more philosophic on the subject of beauty than they are generally supposed; till they do fall in love with well-informed minds instead of handsome faces, a girl, with such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of being admired and sought after, of having the power of chusing from among many, consequently a claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is not so very slight a claim, comprehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness of temper and manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a great readiness to be pleased with other people. I am very much mistaken if your sex in general would not think such beauty, and such temper, the highest claims a woman could possess. ~ Jane Austen

People are always saying, 'You're really nice, I thought you were going to be a complete asshole.' I'm getting pretty fed up with it. I just want to say to them, 'Well I could always piss on your head.' ~ Trent Reznor

Did you ever think much about jobs? I mean, some of the jobs people land in? You see a guy giving haircuts to dogs, or maybe going along the curb with a shovel, scooping up horse manure. And you think, now why is the silly bastard doing that? He looks fairly bright, about as bright as anyone else. Why the hell does he do that for living?
You kind grin and look down your nose at him. You think he's nuts, know what I mean, or he doesn't have any ambition. And then you take a good look at yourself, and you stop wondering about the other guy…

You've got all your hands and feet. Your health is okay, and you make a nice appearance, and ambition-man! You've got it. You're young, I guess: you'd call thirty young, and you're strong. You don't have much education, but you've got more than plenty of other people who go to the top. And yet with all that, with all you've had to do with this is as far you've got And something tellys you, you're not going much farther if any.

And there is nothing to be done about it now, of course, but you can't stop hoping. You can't stop wondering…

…Maybe you had too much ambition. Maybe that was the trouble. You couldn't see yourself spending forty years moving from office boy to president. So you signed on with a circulation crew; you worked the magazines from one coast to another. And then you ran across a little brush deal-it sounded nice, anyway. And you worked that until you found something better, something tha ~ Jim Thompson

And don't pay attention to Christina. Your face doesn't look that bad." He smiles a little. "I mean, it looks good. It always looks good. i mean
you look brave. Dauntless." His eyes skirt mine, and he scratches the back of his head. The silence grows between us. It was a nice thing to say, but he acts like it means more than just words. I hope I am wrong. I could not be attracted to Al
I could not be attracted to anyone that fragile. I smile as much as my bruised cheek will allow, hoping that will diffuse the tension. ~ Veronica Roth

The cotton swab softly moved across my face, leaving a pleasant coolness behind. It swept over my forehead, down my nose, on the sides of my cheeks, and across my chin. It relaxed me and I melted. And slowly, I began to fall asleep. I considered reupping for another hour.
But then I felt the burning.
"Oooh," I said, opening my eyes. "Cindy, this doesn't feel right."
"Oh, good," Cindy said, sounding unconcerned. "You're starting to feel it now?"
Seconds later, I was in severe pain. "Oh, I'm more feeling it," I answered, gripping the arms of the chair until my knuckles turned white.
"Well, it should stop here in a second…," she insisted. "It's just working its magic--"
My face was melting off. "Ouch! Ow! Seriously, Cindy! Take this stuff off my face! It's killing me!"
"Oh, dear…okay, okay," Cindy answered, quickly grabbing a soaked washcloth and quickly wiping the nuclear solution from my skin. Finally, the intense burning began to subside.
"Gosh," I said, trying to be nice. "I don't think that's something I want to try again." I swallowed hard, trying to will the pain receptors to stop firing.
"Hmmm," Cindy said, perplexed. "I'm sorry it stung a little. But you'll love it tomorrow morning when you wake up! Your skin will look so fresh and dewy."
It better, I thought as I paid Cindy for the torture and left the tiny salon. My face tingled, and not at all in a good way. And as I walked to my car, the floodgates of wedding worry o ~ Ree Drummond

The people are pieces of software called avatars. They are the audiovisual bodies that people use to communicate with each other in the Metaverse. Hiro's avatar is now on the Street, too, and if the couples coming off the monorail look over in his direction, they can see him, just as he's seeing them. They could strike up a conversation: Hiro in the U-Stor-It in L.A. and the four teenagers probably on a couch in a suburb of Chicago, each with their own laptop. But they probably won't talk to each other, any more than they would in Reality. These are nice kids, and they don't want to talk to a
solitary crossbreed with a slick custom avatar who's packing a couple of swords.
Your avatar can look any way you want it to, up to the limitations of your equipment. If you're ugly, you can make your avatar beautiful. If you've just
gotten out of bed, your avatar can still be wearing beautiful clothes and professionally applied makeup. You can look like a gorilla or a dragon or a
giant talking penis in the Metaverse. Spend five minutes walking down the Street and you will see all of these.
Hiro's avatar just looks like Hiro, with the difference that no matter what Hiro is wearing in Reality, his avatar always wears a black leather kimono. Most hacker types don't go in for garish avatars, because they know that it takes a
lot more sophistication to render a realistic human face than a talking penis. Kind of the way people who really know clothing can appreci ~ Neal Stephenson

The genre of self-help for depression is littered with well-intentioned books that overpraise solutions and raise false hopes. It would be nice to defeat your depression in ten easy steps, but rarely is it so easy. Books that overpraise solutions produce frustrated, disappointed and demoralized readers and damage the credibility of experts. ~ Jonathan Rottenberg

People in India like to touch a lot. It's not very nice for any girl to be touched by strangers wherever they want. You wouldn't do that to your sister or mother, but just because one is an actor, they think she is your property. ~ Preity Zinta

It is within your power to release yourself from mortal bonds. To be free of them."
"What? I don't need to worry about the cold?"
"Nope."
"Right." She stuffed icy hands into the pockets of her jeans. "And apple strudel?"
"Mind over matter."
A reluctant smile found her face. "Well, we've already established that you can breathe for me."
"Don't underestimate yourself." Daniel smiled back briefly. "This has to do more with you than me. Try it: Tell yourself that you are not cold, not hungry, not tired."
"All right." Luce sighed. "I am not…" She'd started to mumble, disbelieving, but then she caught Daniel's eye. Daniel, who believed she could do things she never thought she was capable of, who believed that her will meant the difference between having the halo and letting it slip away. She was holding it in her hands. Proof.
Now he was telling her she had mortal needs only because she thought she did. She decided to give this crazy idea a try. She straightened her shoulders. She projected the words into the misty dusk. "I, Lucinda Price, am not cold, not hungry, not tired."
The wind blew, and the clock tower in the distance struck five-and something lifted off her so that she didn't feel depleted anymore. She felt rested, equipped for whatever the night called for, determined to succeed.
"Nice touch, Lucinda Price," Daniel said. "Five senses transcended at five o'clock."
She reached for his wing, wrapped herself in it, let i ~ Lauren Kate

Would you like to dance?"
I knew I had frosting on my nose.
Alex leaned over and wuped it off with his thumb. "Well?"
I could only nod. I had a full mouth, too. I stood up, swallowed, and accepted the napkin he was holding. "You're here."
"I'm here," he agreed, like it hadn't been a ridiculous thing to say. "I am crashing your sister's wedding. Hope she won't mind."
"She won't mind."
He was wearing a tux. A real tux, complete with bow tie and silk lapels. I stroked one. "I'm guessing this isn't a rental."
He squirmed a little. "No, it's mine. Nice dress."
I looked down at the snug purple monstrosity my sister had chosen. At least it had a mandarin collar and some sleeves. "It's a cheongsam," she'd announced proudly. "It's Eggplant Ho Lee Mess" was Frankie's take. My pear-shaped cousin Vanessa got strapless. Now she looked like an eggplant.
"You look beautiful," Alex said, but the corner of his mouth was twitching.
"Well,you look like...like..." I sighed. "Okay, you look really really good." Then, again, "You're here."
"I'm here."
"Why?"
"I missed you," he said simply.
"It's only been four days."
"A very,very long four days. But your e-mail helped." He reached for my hand. "Now,are we dancing or not?"
We did, and it wasn't as complicated as I'd thought it might be. I stood on my toes, he bent down a little, and we fit together pretty well. The song ended way too soon.
"So," Alex said.
"So ~ Melissa Jensen

As Charles Lamb says, there is nothing so nice as doing good by stealth and being found out by accident, so I now say it is even nicer to make heroic decisions and to be prevented by 'circumstances beyond your control' from ever trying to execute them. ~ William James

KM: Yes. Mrs. Lopez, she's human. And you know, clearly, she'd like people to show some appreciation for her hard work. But if people just, you know, take her pie and don't even say, "Hey, nice pie," they just scarf it down or whatever-
MH: I could see how that would get to be annoying. I mean, if you're constantly providing ... pie. And getting no positive feedback-
KM: Right! And what about your future? I mean, how do you know people are still going to want your pie in the future? Supposing they become a famous rock star or something. People are going to be offering them pie all over the place. If they haven't promised only to eat your pie, well, where does that leave you? ~ Meg Cabot