Because I Heard Him Say It Live Quotes

I love book signings: kids waiting in line for you to scribble on their new books, haha! ~ Brian Jacques

I paused to pat the truck's hood gently in apology when someone put his hand on my shoulder.
I grabbed the hand and rotated it into a nice wrist lock. Using that as a convenient handle, I spun him a few degrees to the outside, and locked his elbow with my other hand. A little more rotation, and his shoulder joint was also mine. He was ready to be pulverized.
"Damn it, Mercy, that is enough!"
Or apologized to.
I let Warren go and sucked in a deep breath. "Next time, say something." I should have apologized, really. But I wouldn't have meant it. It was his own darn fault he'd surprised me.
He rubbed his shoulder ruefully and said, "I will." I gave him a dirty look. I hadn't hurt him - even if he'd been human, I wouldn't have done any real hurt.
He stopped faking and grinned. "Okay. Okay. I heard you drive up and wanted to make sure everything was all right."
"And you couldn't resist sneaking up on me."
He shook his head. "I wasn't sneaking. You need to be more alert. ~ Patricia Briggs

It is tormenting to live life with a burden of guilt. Jesus bore our sins and the guilt associated with them, and in reality, once we have received forgiveness for any sin we have committed, there is no longer any guilt. When sin goes, guilt goes with it. Jesus not only forgives sin, He removes it completely. He remembers it no more, and to Him, it is as if it never happened. When we feel guilt after we have confessed and repented of a sin, we should tell the feeling that it is a lie. Don't let your feelings be the ruling factor in your life. The Bible says that we are justified in Christ, and I heard one theologian say that means that we stand before God just as if we had never sinned. Even if our feelings can't believe it, we can choose to live beyond our feelings and we can honor God's Word above how we feel. If we make right choices according to the Word of God, our feelings will eventually come in line with our good choices. ~ Joyce Meyer

// And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" Then I said, "Here I am! Send me." // Isaiah 6:8

"I love the immediacy of Isaiah's response. There was no whiff of 'Well, let me go home and pray about what God has for me.' Let me save you the time. Let me ask you three question: 1. Have you seen this God? I'm not asking if you've heard about Him. Have you seen this God? 2. Have you ever felt that desperate and been touched with that kind of grace? 3. Did you hear God when He said 'Whom shall I send?' Did you hear that? Because you can't be near the cross and not hear God say it. This world is messed up on a magnitude that is staggering. People are lost, and God cares. And He's asking you, right now, 'Whom shall I send? Who will go for us? ~ Louie Giglio

I have a tiny little secret hope that, after a decent period of silence and prose, I will find myself in some almost impossible life situation and will respond to this with outcries of rage, rage and love, such as the world has never heard before. Like Yeats's great outburst at the end of his life. This comes out of a feeling that endowment is a very small part of achievement. I would rate it about fifteen or twenty percent, Then you have historical luck, personal luck, health, things like that, then you have hard work, sweat. And you have ambition. The incredible difference between the achievement of A and the achievement of B is that B wanted it, so he made all kinds of sacrifices. A could have had it, but he didn't give a damn.[...]

But what I was going on to say is that I do strongly feel that among the greatest pieces of luck for high achievement is ordeal. Certain great artists can make out without it, Titian and others, but mostly you need ordeal. My idea is this: the artist is extremely lucky who is presented with the worst possible ordeal which will not actually kill him. At that point, he's in business. Beethoven's deafness, Goya's deafness, Milton's blindness, that kind of thing. And I think that what happens in my poetic work in the future will probably largely depend not on my sitting calmly on my ass as I think, "Hmm, hmm, a long poem again? Hmm," but on being knocked in the face, and thrown flat, and given cancer, and all kinds of other things short ~ John Berryman

Haven't you ever heard the saying that our pasts do not define us?" I countered, growing frustrated. "I screwed up, Hayden. I admitted that. Why can't you let it go?"
"Let it go?" He sneered. "You are the reason my sister is a Program. Please, tell me how I'm supposed to let something like that go? Because I'd love to know."
Footsteps sounded from outside of the holding cell, essentially ending our conversation. I still had much to say to him, but for now, I welcomed the silence.
The silence was much more comforting than the truth. ~ Nicole Sobon

I wake sometimes in the dark terrified by my life's precariousness, its thready breath. Beside me, my husband's pulse beats at his throat; in their beds, my children's skin shows every faintest scratch. A breeze would blow them over, and the world is filled with more than breezes: diseases and disasters, monsters and pain in a thousand variations. I do not forget either my father and his kind hanging over us, bright and sharp as swords, aimed at our tearing flesh. If they do not fall on us in spite and malice, then they will fall by accident or whim. My breath fights in my throat. How can I live on beneath such a burden of doom? I rise then and go to my herbs. I create something, I transform something. My witchcraft is as strong as ever, stronger. This too is good fortune. How many have such power and leisure and defense as I do? Telemachus comes from our bed to find me. He sits with me in the greensmelling darkness, holding my hand. Our faces are both lined now, marked with our years. Circe, he says, it will be all right. It is not the saying of an oracle or a prophet. They are words you might speak to a child. I have heard him say them to our daughters, when he rocked them back to sleep from a nightmare, when he dressed their small cuts, soothed whatever stung. His skin is familiar as my own beneath my fingers. I listen to his breath, warm upon the night air, and somehow I am comforted. He does not mean it does not hurt. He does not mean we are not frightened. Only that: we ~ Madeline Miller

She thought that she had been seeking a light distraction. But when she heard the clang of metal on metal and saw Arin scraping a shaft of steel across the anvil with one set of tools and beating at it with another, Kestrel knew she had come to the wrong place.
"Yes?" he said, keeping his back to her. His workshirt was soaked through with sweat. His hands were sooty. He left the blade of the sword to cool on the anvil and moved to place another, shorter length of metal on the fire, which lined his profile with unsteady light.
She willed her voice to be her own. "I thought we could play a game."
His dark brows drew together.
"Of Bite and Sting," Kestrel said. More firmly, she added, "You implied you know how to play."
He used tongs to stoke the fire. "I did."
"You implied that you could beat me."
"I implied that there was no reason a Valorian would want to play with a Herrani."
"No, you worded things carefully so that what you said could be interpreted that way. But that isn't what you meant."
He faced her then, arms folded across his chest. "I have no time for games." The tips of his fingers had black rings of charcoal dust buried under the nail and into the cuticle. "I have work to do."
"Not if I say you don't."
He turned away. "I like to finish what I start."
She meant to leave. She meant to leave him to the noise and heat. She meant to say nothing more. Instead, Kestrel found herself issuing a challenge. "You are ~ Marie Rutkoski

She sat at her dressing table, eyeing her reflection warily. Her hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders, a few shades darker than the dress. She gathered a handful and began to braid.
"I hear you're going to the ball tonight."
Kestrel glanced in the mirror to see Arin standing behind her. Then she focused on her own shadowed eyes. "You're not allowed in here," Kestrel said. She didn't look again at him, but sensed him waiting. She realized that she was waiting, too--waiting for the will to send him away.
She sighed and continued to braid.
He said, "It's not a good idea for you to attend the ball."
"I hardly think you're in a position to advise me on what I should or shouldn't do." She glanced back at his reflection. His face frayed her already sheer nerves. The braid slipped from her fingers and unraveled. "What?" she snapped. "Does this amuse you?"
The corner of his mouth lifted, and Arin looked like himself, like the person she had grown to know since summer's end. "'Amuse' isn't the right word."
Heavy locks fell forward to curtain her face. "Lirah usually does my hair," she muttered. She heard Arin inhale as if to speak, but he didn't.
Then, quietly, he said, "I could do it."
"What?"
"I could braid your hair."
"You?"
"Yes."
Kestrel's pulse bit at her throat. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything he had crossed the room and swept her hair into his hands. His fingers began to move. ~ Marie Rutkoski

The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept
And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may
Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay,
Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept.
He leaned above me, thinking that I slept
And could not hear him; but I heard him say,
'Poor child, poor child': and as he turned away
Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept.
He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold
That hid my face, or take my hand in his,
Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head:
He did not love me living; but once dead
He pitied me; and very sweet it is
To know he still is warm though I am cold. ~ Christina Rossetti

The world is full of disappointment," I said.
"Yes," she said, "I heard him say that. And every creature is simply trying to get what it wants, and to make their way through a difficult world. Do you believe that?"
"No," I said. "There's more than that."
"Like what?"
"Like good books," I said, "and good people. And good librarians, who are almost both at once. ~ Lemony Snicket

Alas, where in the world have there been greater follies than with the compassionate?
And what in the world has caused more suffering than the follies of the compassionate?
Woe to all lovers who cannot surmount pity!
Thus spoke the Devil to me once: Even God has his Hell: it is his love for man.
And I lately heard him say these words: God is dead; God has died of his pity for man. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

As I shut the door and started to walk away, I heard him say, "Hey. Sydney."
"Yeah?"
"You had on a shirt with mushrooms on it, and your hair was pulled back. Silver earrings. Pepperoni slice. No lollipop."
I just looked at him, confused. Layla was walking toward us now.
"The first time you came into Seaside," he said. "You weren't invisible, not to me. Just so you know. ~ Sarah Dessen

But before I could come up with an answer, Tod appeared in the desk chair, where I'd sat minutes earlier. 'Hey. Am I interrupting something?'
'Yes,' Nash said. 'Get out.'
But Tod was watching me, and I could tell from the angry line of his jaw that he'd been listening long before he showed himself. He'd heard what Avari had done to me. What Nash had let him do.
'You want me to go?' Tod asked me, his back to his brother.
Nash implores me silently to say yes. Tod waited patiently.
'No,' I said, looking right at Nash. He scowled, and his shoulders sagged.
'Good.' Tod stood and kicked the rolling chair out of his way. 'I just checked on your friend in the straitjacket. But first ... ' The reaper swung before either of us realized what he intended to do.
Tod's very sold first slammed into Nash's jaw. Nash's head snapped back. He stumbled into the wall. Tod shook his hand like it hurt. 'That's for what you let him do to Kaylee. ~ Rachel Vincent

I knew I heard the doctor correctly. I didn't think he said something else, I didn't think for a second, 'Well maybe he didn't say it.' No, I knew I heard him! But I still couldn't comprehend ... in my mind ... in my soul ... he just said, 'cancer.' ~ Stuart Scott

He loved her. It was dead simple, the way he loved her. Seamless. His love was like a wall that he'd built around her, and there wasn't a chink or flaw in it. Or so he thought. But then she started to float out of the real world, his world, and he was like a little boy trying to dam a stream with stones and mud, knowing that the water would always break through at a place he wasn't looking at. There was nothing desperate about the way he did it, though. He was always calm, it seemed. Expecting the worst and determined not to crack. She started to get up in the night and turn on all the taps, and he would get up too and stand quietly beside her watching the endless flow of water as if he found it as fascinating as she did. Then he'd guide her back to bed before turning the taps off. One night I heard something and went into the living room and saw the two of them standing out on the balcony. He'd wrapped his dressing gown around her, and I heard him say, "Yes, you are right, Marijke. The traffic is like a river of stars. Would you like to watch is some more, or go back to bed? ~ Mal Peet

Later," I said to the room at large as I didn't want to appear rude.
For some reason this was met by Shirleen saying, "I'll put money down that she's living with him in four days."
My confused gaze swung to Shirleen but she was looking at the movie star glamour girl who was looking at me.
"Three days," Glamour girl said, smiling at me and I thought, in other circumstances, I would have liked to meet her.
"A week, she's got spirit," The other black lady said. She was smiling at me too, not like I was the butt of some joke, but in a kind way.
I opened the outer door.
Before it closed behind me, I heard Luke say strangely, "Tonight."
Then everyone laughed. ~ Kristen Ashley

I'll turn my back, unless you think you need help getting dressed." Lord, he silently prayed, pleased don't test my chivalry that far!
"I can manage, thank you very much!" she returned tightly.
Turning his back, Rider grinned and lifted his eyes to heaven. "Thanks, big Fellah."
"Did you say something?" Willow inquired.
Rider kept a steady gaze on the trees. "Just talking to myself."
He heard her mumble something about crazy people talking to themselves before she announced it safe for him to turn around. He did and was given an immediate jolt. She wore not her usual shirt and pants,but a clean nightshirt and wrapper. However,it wasn't her scanty attire that startled him as much as her pain-glazed eyes.
"My God,what is it?" Stunned, his hands automatically came up under both her elbows to steady her. "Are you in pain?" A thought came to him then. He hesitated, studying his boots. "Is it...I've got sisters, so don't be embarrassed.Is it your woman's time?" Rider's ears reddened, but it was nothing compared to Willow's high color.
She jerked away from his touch, squeezed her eyes shut, and cradled her forehead in one hand. "And I wondered what else could go wrong," she muttered under her breath.
"What?"
"Dammit,Sinclair, men aren't suppose to talk to women about those things. ~ Charlotte McPherren

The way I feel about you, Jacinda...I know you feel it, too."
He stares at me so starkly, so hungrily that I can only nod. Agree. Of course, I feel it. "I do," I admit.
But I don't understand him. Don't get why he should feel this way about me. Why should he want me so much? What do I offer him? Why did he save me that day in the mountains? And why does he pursue me now? When no girl spiked his interest before?
"Good," he says. "Then how about a date?"
"A date?" I repeat, like I've never heard the word.
"Yeah. A real date. Something official. You. Me. Tonight. We're long overdue." His smile deepens, revealing the deep grooves on the sides of his cheeks. "Dinner. Movie. Popcorn."
"Yes." The word slips past.
For a moment I forget. Forget that I'm not an ordinary girl. That he's not an ordinary boy.
For the first time, I understand Tamra. And the appeal of normal.
"Yes." It feels good to say it. To pretend. To drink in the sight of him and forget there's an ulterior reason I need to go out with him. A reason that's going to tear us apart forever.
Stupid. Did you think you might have a future with him? Mom's right. Time to grow up.
He smiles. Then he's gone. Out the door. For a second, I'm confused. Then he's at my door, opening it, helping me out.
Together we walk through the parking lot. Side by side. We move only a few feet before he slips his hand around mine. As we near the front of the building, I see several kids ~ Sophie Jordan

With my eyes closed, I heard him say, I don't love you anymore...I could hear the words but I couldn't quite access them, couldn't quite accept that it was me living my life at that moment. Surely he was telling this to someone else, surely we would be together forever, the way we'd talked about. This was before I needed passion and wildness and to be on the verge of every emotion at once - I wanted safety and beauty, and he looked like Bob Dylan in the middle of the desert, and I thought that was what the love of my life could be. ~ Chelsea Hodson

Arin heard the door to the barracks creak. The sound brought him immediately to his feet, for only one person would come to his cell this late at night. Then he heard the first heavy footfall, and his hands slackened around the metal bars. The footsteps coming were not hers. They belonged to someone big. Solid, slow. Probably a man.
Torchlight pulsed toward Arin's cell. When he saw who carried it, he pulled away from the bars. He saw a child's nightmare come to life.
The general set the torch in a sconce. He stared, taking in Arin's fresh bruises, his height, his features. The general's frown deepened.
This man didn't look like Kestrel. He was all mass and muscle. But Arin found her in the way her father lifted his chin, and his eyes held the same dangerous intelligence.
"Is she all right?" Arin said. When he received no response, he asked again in Valorian. And because he had already damned himself with a question he couldn't bear not to ask, Arin said something he had sworn he would never say. "Sir."
"She's fine."
A feeling flowed into Arin, something like sleep or the sudden absence of pain.
"If I had my choice, I would kill you," said the general, "but that would cause more talk. You'll be sold. Not right away, because I don't want to be seen reacting to a scandal. But soon.
"I'll be spending some time at home, and I will be watching you. If you come near my daughter, I will forget my better judgment. I will have you torn limb from ~ Marie Rutkoski

The stars are brilliant at this time of night
and I wander these streets like a ritual I don't dare to break
for darling, the times are quite glorious.

I left him by the water's edge,
still waving long after the ship was gone
and if someone would have screamed my name I wouldn't have heard for I've said goodbye so many times in my short life that farewells are a muscular task and I've taught them well.
There's a place by the side of the railway near the lake where I grew up and I used to go there to burry things and start anew.
I used to go there to say goodbye.
I was young and did not know many people but I had hidden things inside that I never dared to show and in silence I tried to kill them,
one way or the other,
leaving sin on my body
scrubbing tears off with salt
and I built my rituals in farewells.
Endings I still cling to.

So I go to the ocean to say goodbye.

He left that morning, the last words still echoing in my head
and though he said he'd come back one day I know a broken promise from a right one
for I have used them myself and there is no coming back.
Minds like ours are can't be tamed and the price for freedom is the price we pay.

I turned away from the ocean
as not to fall for its plea
for it used to seduce and consume me
and there was this one night
a few years back and I was not yet accustomed to farewells
~ Charlotte Eriksson

I love you, Cleo," he said, the words finally coming to him, with no effort at all because of how true they were. "I love you so much it hurts."
Her eyes widened. "What did you just say?"
Magnus almost laughed. "I think you heard me right. ~ Morgan Rhodes

He laughs with relief. "Yes." The word yes is so much more beautiful coming from his mouth, laced with that voice. He could probably make any word beautiful. I try to think of a word I hate. I kind of hate the word ox. It's an ugly word. Too short and clipped. I wonder if his voice could make me love that word. "Say the word ox." His eyebrow rises, like he's wondering if he heard me right. He thinks I'm weird. I don't care. "Just say it," I tell him. "Ox," he says, with slight hesitation. I smile. I love the word ox. It's my new favorite word. ~ Colleen Hoover

SONIA: What can we do? We must live our lives. [A pause] Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on us. Ah, then dear, dear Uncle, we shall see that bright and beautiful life; we shall rejoice and look back upon our sorrow here; a tender smile - and - we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith. [SONIA kneels down before her uncle and lays her head on his hands. She speaks in a weary voice] We shall rest. [TELEGIN plays softly on the guitar] We shall rest. We shall hear the angels. We shall see heaven shining like a jewel. We shall see all evil and all our pain sink away in the great compassion that shall enfold the world. Our life will be as peaceful and tender and sweet as a caress. I have faith; I have faith. [She wipes away her tears] My poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you are crying! [Weeping] You have never known what happiness was, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait! We shall rest. [She embraces him] We shall rest. [The WATCHMAN'S rattle is heard in the garden; TELEGIN plays softly; MME. VOITSKAYA writes something on the margin of her pamphlet; MARINA knits her stocking] We shall re ~ Anton Chekhov

Is Joanna Gaines here? We have a warrant here for her arrest," the officer said.
It was the tickets. I knew it. And I panicked. I picked up my son and I hid in the closet. I literally didn't know what to do. I'd never even had a speeding ticket, and all of a sudden I'm thinking, I'm about to go to prison, and my child won't be able to eat. What is this kid gonna do?
I heard Chip say, "She's not here."
Thankfully, Drake didn't make a peep, and the officer believed him. He said, "Well, just let her know we're looking for her," and they left.

Jo's the most conservative girl in the world. She had never even been late for school. I mean, this girl was straitlaced. So now we realize there's a citywide warrant out for her arrest, and we're like, "Oh, crap." In her defense, Jo had wanted to pay those tickets off all along, and I was the one saying, "No way. I'm not paying these tickets." So we decided to try to make it right. We called the judge, and the court clerk told us, "Okay, you have an appointment at three in the afternoon to discuss the tickets. See you then." We wanted to ask the judge if he could remove a few of them for us. "The fines for our dogs "running at large" on our front porch just seemed a bit excessive.

We arrived at the courthouse, and Chip was carrying Drake in his car seat. I couldn't carry it because I was still recovering from Drake's delivery. We got inside and spoke to a clerk. They looked at the circumstances and deci ~ Joanna Gaines

Ian Watson did an almost full novel length treatment which I've never seen and when he finished it Stanley said to him. I need somebody to smear this with vaginal jelly, and I have to say when I first heard this that I was rather shocked, because he was quite gentlemanly. ~ Sara Maitland

Kathleen doesn't look like you," Henry said suddenly, staring at me.
"Uh, no. She doesn't. Not really," I stammered, not knowing what else to say. Without another word, Henry turned and left the kitchen. I heard him run up the stairs and looked at Georgia who met my gaze with bafflement.
"Did you hear that, woman?" I asked Georgia. "Henry doesn't think Kathleen looks like me. You got something to tell me?"
Kathleen shrieked again. Georgia wasn't moving fast enough with the jar of bananas she'd produced.
Georgia smirked and stuck out her tongue at me, and Kathleen bellowed. Georgia hastily dipped the tiny spoon into the yellow goo and proceeded to feed our little beast, who wailed as she inhaled.
"She may not look like you, Moses. But she definitely has your sunny disposition," Georgia sassed, but she leaned into me when I dropped a kiss on her lips. It didn't hurt my feelings at all that my dimpled baby girl looked more like her mother. ~ Amy Harmon

When the time comes, as it surely will, when we face that awesome moment, the final judgment, I've often thought, as Fulton Sheen wrote, that it is a terrible moment of loneliness. You have no advocates, you are there alone standing before God -- and a terror will rip your soul like nothing you can imagine. But I really think that those in the pro-life movement will not be alone. I think there'll be a chorus of voices that have never been heard in this world but are heard beautifully and clearly in the next world -- and they will plead for everyone who has been in this movement. They will say to God, 'Spare him, because he loved us! ~ Henry J. Hyde

If there's one thing I regret it's not having told my father how much I admired and loved him. My only gesture of affection was a quick kiss on the forehead two days before he died. The kiss tasted like sugar and I felt like a thief who furtively stole something that no longer belong to anybody. Why do we hide our feelings? Out of cowardice? Out of egotism? With a mother it's different: we cover her with flowers, gifts and sweet phrases. What is it that prevents us from affectionately confronting our father and telling him, face to face, how much we love or admire him? On the other hand, why do we curse him under our breath when he puts us in our place? Why do we react with wickedness and not affection when the occasion presents itself? Why are we brave with taunts and cowards with affection? Why did I never tell my father these things but I tell them to you, who are probably too young to understand them yet? One night I wanted to speak to my father ion his room but found him asleep. As I quietly began to leave the room, I heard my sleeping father, in a desperate voice, say: "No, papa, no!" What strange, agitated dream was my father experiencing with his father? And if one thing caught my attention, beyond the enigma of the dream, was that my father was seventy-eight years old at that time and my grandfather had been dead for at least a quarter of a century. Does a man have to die to speak to his father? ~ Juan Gabriel Vasquez

Some of our Elders, and, in fact, some of the Twelve will tell you, 'yes, yes, the Order is a splendid principle and will bring happiness, etc., but it is not hardly time to enter into it, wait a little while until the people understand it better.' Why, they are fools! They don't know what they talk about. They have ears to hear and will not hearken, and have eyes to see and will not understand... When our conduct hedges up the way of angels how can they bless us?... How can they help us work out our salvation? When Joseph Smith was alive I can say that I never heard him lay one plan out for the people but would have been a success if it had been carried out as he directed. And I have seen the same thing in myself. I don't care how the world goes, what the President [of the U.S.] or his emissaries do. It matters nothing to me. What I am thinking of and interested about is how do the Latter-day Saints do? The devil is in the community and he has not been turned out... Well, I still have hope in Israel. ~ Brigham Young

I've heard new believers say, "I thought God was supposed to make my life better!" But that's not why we come to Christ. We come to Him because we are great sinners and He is a great Savior. ~ Candace Cameron Bure

Once, as he passed out from the doors of the Greater Testimony, the rector heard some one say: "The Church would be all right if that old mugwump was out of the pulpit." It went to his heart like a barbed thorn, and stayed there.

You know, perhaps, how a remark of that sort can stay and rankle, and make you wish you could hear it again to make sure of it, because perhaps you didn't hear it aright, and it was a mistake after all. Perhaps no one said it, anyway. You ought to have written it down at the time. I have seen the Dean take down the encyclopaedia in the rectory, and move his finger slowly down the pages of the letter M, looking for mugwump. But it wasn't there. I have known him, in his little study upstairs, turn over the pages of the "Animals of Palestine," looking for a mugwump. But there was none there. It must have been unknown in the greater days of Judea. ~ Stephen Leacock

And just as Catskin went to the ball, and Cendrillon, and Aschenputtel, so must you. The ball that will be given soon in the palace; I've heard talk of it in the kitchens. The servants say one is held each year. Have you never gone?"
She shook her head.
"Then you must go this year dressed in a fine gown as it is done in the stories."
She sat staring at him. "Me, Gillie? I don't belong at the ball."
"As much as Cinderella did."
"But they are only stories; they're not things that can happen." She studied him for a long time. He did not seem to be making a joke.
"It's what you dream, Thursey. You should do what you dream of doing, else where is the good in dreaming? ~ Shirley Rousseau Murphy

Read poetry every day of your life. Poetry is good because it flexes muscles you don't use often enough. Poetry expands the senses and keeps them in prime condition. It keeps you aware of your nose, your eye, your ear, your tongue, your hand.
And, above all, poetry is compacted metaphor or simile. Such metaphors, like Japanese paper flowers, may expand outward into gigantic shapes. Ideas lie everywhere through the poetry books, yet how rarely have I heard short story teachers recommending them for browsing.
What poetry? Any poetry that makes your hair stand up along your arms. Don't force yourself too hard. Take it easy. Over the years you may catch up to, move even with, and pass T. S. Eliot on your way to other pastures. You say you don't understand Dylan Thomas? Yes, but your ganglion does, and your secret wits, and all your unborn children. Read him, as you can read a horse with your eyes, set free and charging over an endless green meadow on a windy day. ~ Ray Bradbury

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. ~ Amy Harmon

If we are taught by God in affliction we are blessed. When God teaches, he applies his instruction to the heart. He commands light to shine out of darkness (2 Corinthians 4:6). The Holy Spirit brings divine truths in such a clear and convincing light that the soul sits down fully satisfied. The soul both sweetly and freely acquiesces in the revealed truths. When God teaches, the soul experiences truth as David (Psalm 119:71). Some only know notionally, but David knew by experience; he became more acquainted with the Word. He knew it more, loved it better, and was more transformed in the nature of it. Thus, Paul, "I know who I have believed" (2 Timothy 1:12) – "I have experienced his faithfulness and his all-sufficiency; I can trust my all with him. I am sure he will keep it safe to that day." Those taught of God in affliction can speak experimentally, in one degree or another. They can speak of their communion with God (Psalm 23:4). The sweet singer of Israel had comfortable presence. Those taught of God can say: "As we have heard, so we have seen. I have experienced this word upon mine heart, and can set my seal that God is true." God's teaching is a powerful teaching. It conveys strength as well as light. Truth only understood needs to be put into action and practice. God's teachings are sweet to the taste. David rolled them as sugar under his tongue, and received more sweetness than Samson from his honeycomb. Luther said he would not live in paradise without the Word, but ~ Thomas Case

I don't expect you to know what the future is going to bring," I told him. "And I'm not asking for a commitment right now. But I do want to know if it's possible for us to be something long term. If it's not a possibility, I'm not interested in doing this."
Chris didn't answer right away, but when he did, his answer was perfect.
"I love you," he said. "And I don't want to spend a day of my life without you."
Whoa!
Whoa?
Instead of feeling happy and confident, I suddenly felt something like fear.
In my mind, what he was saying was that he wanted to marry me.
Was I ready for that?
No.
But I loved that I heard that he wanted to marry me and was so confident and open about it.
I quickly warmed up to the idea. But as the days and then weeks went by, I began to wonder. Did his answer really mean he wanted to get married? We didn't talk about it, and our relationship didn't change in any meaningful way.
So, were we headed toward marriage, or not?
Then came 9/11. The tragic attack, and the implications that going to war would have for Chris, pushed me to think harder about my future-our future.
One day I called him and said, "I just had this crazy idea-let's get married."
I thought he'd say, Hell yeah! Let's do it!
His actual reaction: "What?"
As in, What the heck are you talking about?
What!?!
"Oh, it's just an idea," I said, quickly retreating. "I'm kind of kidding. We can talk about it later ~ Taya Kyle

They shouted, "Eustace! Eustace! Coo-ee!" till they were hoarse and Caspian blew his horn.
"He's nowhere near or he'd have heard that," said Lucy with a white face.
"Confound the fellow," said Edmund. "What on earth did he want to slink away like this for?"
"But we must do something," said Lucy. "He may have got lost, or fallen into a hole, or been captured by savages."
"Or killed by wild beasts," said Drinian.
"And a good riddance if he has, I say," muttered Rhince.
"Master Rhince," said Reepicheep, "you never spoke a word that became you less. The creature is no friend of mine but he is of the Queen's blood, and while he is one of our fellowship it concerns our honor to find him and to avenge him if he is dead."
"Of course we've got to find him (if we can)," said Caspian wearily. "That's the nuisance of it. It means a search party and endless trouble. Bother Eustace. ~ C.S. Lewis

Mr. Haverstrom closes the door, leaving Patrick and me alone in the hallway. Pat smiles slickly, leaning in toward me. I step back until I press against the wall. It's uncomfortable - but not threatening. Mostly because in addition to racquetball I've practiced aikido for years. So if Patrick tries anything funny, he's in for a very painful surprise.

"Let's be honest, Sarah: you know and I know the last thing you want to do is give a presentation in front of hundreds of people - your colleagues."

My heart tries to crawl into my throat.

"So, how about this? You do the research portion, slides and such that I don't really have time for, and I'll take care of the presentation, giving you half the credit of course."

Of course. I've heard this song before - in school "group projects" where I, the quiet girl, did all the work, but the smoothest, loudest talker took all the glory.

"I'll get Haverstrom to agree on Saturday - I'm like a son to him," Pat explains before leaning close enough that I can smell the garlic on his breath. "Let Big Pat take care of it. What do you say?"

I say there's a special place in hell for people who refer to themselves in the third person.

But before I can respond, Willard's firm, sure voice travels down the hall.

"I think you should back off, Nolan. Sarah's not just 'up for it,' she'll be fantastic at it."

Pat waves his hand. "Quiet, midge - the adults ar ~ Emma Chase

And I like the light-up."
"The what?"
"The light-up," he'd say. "You know, that look people get when they finally realize you're for real. It's like electricity. It makes me tingle all over. Like a blanket full of static."
Ew. "Really? I've never heard that."
"Yeah, and I like it when people realize we're out here."
I leaned in close once and asked him, "Do you want your mom to realize you're out here? Do you want her to know?"
"Nah. It took her too long to get over me."
All in all, he was a good kid. ~ Darynda Jones

I better get the hearse back before dark." Xanadu sighed. "Uncle Lee got into it with Aunt Faye about me even borrowing it." Grabbing Jamie by his cougar emblem, she added, "Let's go, girlfriend." She yanked him toward the parking lot. I heard Jamie say, "Could I ride in the trunk and pretend I'm a corpse? ~ Julie Anne Peters

You boys need anything else?"

Nick started. The older waitress was there beside the table.

He hadn't heard her approach. Worse - he hadn't felt her approach. Would she say something? He should probably start disentangling himself from Adam. His voice wouldn't work and his face felt like his cheeks were going to burn clean off.

"No, thanks," Adam said. He sounded amused.

She ripped a piece of paper from her pad and set it on the table. "You two are just the cutest ever."

Nick froze. She didn't care. They'd been head to head at this table, and she hadn't batted an eye.

Adam winked at her. "Sounds like someone's looking for a tip."

"Here's a tip," she said. "Don't flirt with old married ladies when you've got a sure thing in your arms."

"Am I the sure thing in this scenario?" said Nick.

"I don't know," Adam said. "Are you?"

The waitress laughed and left them with the check.

"She didn't care," said Nick softly. "I know it's stupid, but I thought - "

"What, that people would come out with pitchforks? Flaming torches?"

"Maybe."

Adam kissed him on the cheek. "You're adorable. People surprise you sometimes. Especially when you give them the chance."

The words hit Nick hard, the way words you need to hear usually do. He held them in his head for examination later.

When they walked back to Adam's apartment, he re ~ Brigid Kemmerer

bees and elephants and dogs piled up in squirmin' mounds like Loma's dang cats tryin' to keep warm in the wintertime. Does all this make any sense, Will Tweedy?" "Yessir, Grandpa." I wanted to go lay down. But I also wanted some more answers. "Grandpa, uh, why you think Jesus said ast the Lord for anything you want and you'll get it? 'Ast and it shall be given,' the Bible says. But it ain't so." I felt blasphemous even to think it, much less say it out loud. Grandpa was silent a long time. "Maybe Jesus was talkin' in His sleep, son, or folks heard Him wrong. Or maybe them disciples tryin' to start a church thought everbody would join up if'n they said Jesus Christ would give the Garden a-Eden to anybody believed He was the son a-God and like thet." Grandpa laughed. Gosh, I'd get a whipping if Papa knew what was going on with the Word in his kitchen. "All I know," he added, "is thet folks pray for food and still go hungry, and ~ Olive Ann Burns

Dad phoned to wish us happy anniversary, and I picked up the phone and I was going to play it cool, but then I started crying when I started talking - I was doing the awful chick talk-cry: mwaha-waah-gwwahh-and-waaa-wa - so I had to tell him what happened, and he told me I should open a bottle of wine and wallow in it for a bit. Dad is always a proponent of a good indulgent sulk. Still, Nick will be angry that I told Rand, and of course Rand will do his fatherly thing, pat Nick on the shoulder and say, "Heard you had some emergency drinking to do on your anniversary, Nicky." And chuckle. So Nick will know, and he will be angry with me because he wants my parents to believe he's perfect - he beams when I tell them stories about what a flawless son-in-law he is. Except for tonight. I know, I know, I'm being a girl. ~ Gillian Flynn

I haven't got time to be neurotic," he had heard Helen say once; and the words had made him go weak with anger. He had thought it was the most stupid and reactionary remark he ever heard in his life; but was it any more stupid than the sneering thrust he had made in reply: "Time! You haven't got the imagination! ~ Charles Jackson

Talking of being eaten by dogs, there's a dachshund at Brinkley who when you first meet him will give you the impression that he plans to convert you into a light snack between his regular meals. Pay no attention. It's all eyewash. His belligerent attitude is simply - "
Sound and fury signifying nothing, sir?"
That's it. Pure swank. A few civil words, and he will be grappling you ... What's the expression I've heard you use?"
Grappling me to his soul with hoops of steel, sir?"
In the first two minutes. He wouldn't hurt a fly, but he has to put up a front because his name's Poppet. One can readily appreciate that when a dog hears himself addressed day in and day out as Poppet, he feels he must throw his weight about. Is self-respect demands it."
Precisely, sir."
You'll like Poppet. Nice dog. Wears his ears inside out. Why do dachshunds wear their ears inside out?"
I could not say, sir."
Nor me. I've often wondered. ~ P.G. Wodehouse

He's not-" Daniel started to say. He watched a red-tailed hawk land in an oak tree over their heads. "He's not good enough for you."
Luce had heard people say that line a thousand times before. It was what everyone always said. Not good enough. But when the words passed Daniel's lips, they sounded important, even somehow true and relevant, not vague and dismissive the way the phrase had always sounded to her in the past.
"Well, then," she said in a quiet voice, "who is?"
Daniel put his hands on his hips. He laughed to himself for a long time. "I don't know," he said finally. "That's a terrific question."
Not exactly the answer Luce was looking for. "It's not like it's that hard," she said, stuffing her hands into her pockets because she wanted to reach out for him. "To be good enough for me."
Daniel's eyes looked like they were falling, all the violet that had been in them a moment before turned a deep, dark gray. "Yes," he said. "Yes, it is. ~ Lauren Kate

Before I go," he said, and paused
"I may kiss her?"
It was remembered afterwards that when he bent down and touched her face with his lips, he murmured some words. The child, who was nearest to him, told them afterwards, and told her grandchildren when she was a handsome old lady, that she heard him say, "A life you love. ~ Charles Dickens

Why?" I asked softly. The word was carried away on the wind, but he heard.
"Because I want you."
I gave him a sad smile, wondering if we'd meet again in the land of the dead. "Wrong answer," I told him.
I let go.
[ ... ]
I looked him in the eye. "I will always love you."
Then I plunged the stake into his chest.
It wasn't as precise a blow as I would have liked, not with the skilled way he was dodging. I struggled to get the stake in deep enough to his heart, unsure if I could do it from this angle. Then, his struggles stopped. His eyes stared at me, stunned, and his lips parted, almost into a smile, albeit a grisly and pained one.
"That's what I was supposed to say ... " he gasped out. ~ Richelle Mead