Get Back Into Work Quotes

Throw away the rule book and create your own. ~ Sandra Bellamy

I've taken Saturdays to be the day I pull back completely. I do things that are more creative, and I've actually found that helps me when I get back into work to be more thoughtful, and I truly believe that feeding your creative soul is really important to being more analytical. ~ Padmasree Warrior

Lily jumped a little at the sight of him. He'd never been this vivid before, this detailed. She could see him as clearly as if he were really standing right before her. But
this was a dream, even though her senses told her otherwise.
"It's bolder because we're so close," he explained, obviously able to follow her train of thought. "Now that you're back in the world you belong, our connection has strengthened."
"We have no connection." Trying to gather her courage, Lily straightened her spine, standing tall. He shook his head at her. "You'll soon be finding you're wrong about that one, my love. Very wrong." Ronan turned his head as if looking at something in the distance,
though all she could see was the black.
With a heavy sigh, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and lanced
back up with a wicked smirk. "It seems that time's already run out. I only came to get a look at you, anyway. You should really run along now, Dreamer, I can't wait to see you in the waking world. ~ Chani Lynn Feener

To this day, I get very nervous coming back into my own country. ~ Hasan M. Elahi

You back a big cat into a corner and somebody is going to get bloody. ~ Ron Perlman

If we eliminate the word "writer", if we just go back to writing as an act of listening and naming what we hear, some of the rules dissappear. There is an organic shape, a form-coming-into-form that is inherent in the thing we are observing, listening to, and trying to put on the page. It has rules of its own that it will reveal to us if we listen with attention. Shape does not need to be imposed. Shape is a part of what we are listening to. When we just let ourselves write, we get it "right". ~ Julia Cameron

Judge stood tall and gestured for Michaels to walk ahead of him. "You didn't get a good enough view of my ass last night?" he whispered on his way by. Judge grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his chest. "No. But I will." They ~ A.E. Via

Ed, "I hate deserts. There is nothing but sand *collapses* If there was some grass I could turn it into bread. I'm starving! Huh? Hey! Al' where'd you go? Al? Hey!"

Al, "Down here! *Al's hand emerges from the sand beneath Ed and grabs Ed's leg*"

Ed, "AHH!!"

Al, "I sunk again. . ."

(cut to later, after Ed dug Al out)

Al, "I get full."

Ed, "Full of what? *kicks Al and sand falls out of his chest plate and buries Ed*"

Al, "Hahahaha. . .hahaha. . .haha. . . ha. . . *still laughing, inches away from Ed*"

Ed, "*bursts out of sand and starts running after Al* Get back here!"

Al, "What are you going to do?"

Ed, "Nothing!"

Al, "Than why are you chasing me?"

Ed, "Stop and you'll find out!"

Al, "I promise I won't get buried again!"

Ed, "Not unless it's by me!"

Al," Ed!"

Ed, "Rrrrrrrrr! ~ Hiromu Arakawa

I had only one desire: to leave, to walk, to die, whatever. I wanted to get away, never come back, disappear, melt away into the forest, the clouds, no longer have memories, forget, forget. ~ Agota Kristf

That is the bizarre thing about the good news: who knows how you will really hear it one day, but once you have heard it, I mean really HEARD it, you can never UNHEAR it. Once you have read it, or spoken it, or thought it, even if it irritates you, even if you hate hearing it or cannot find it feasible, or try to dismiss it, you cannot UNREAD it, or UNSPEAK it, or UNTHINK it.
It is like a great big elephant in a tiny room. Its obvious presence begins to squeeze out everything else, including your own little measly self. Some accept it easily, some accept it quickly, and some are struck with the mystical reality of it right away. These people have no trouble bringing the unseen into the realm of the seen. But others of us fight the elephant; we push back on it, we try to ignore it, get it to leave the room, or attempt to leave the room ourselves. But it does not help. The trunk keeps curling around the doorknob. The hook is there. It may snooze or loom or rise and recede, but regardless of the time passed or the vanity endured, the idea keeps coming back, like a cosmic boomerang you just cannot throw away. I did not realize this was part of the grace of it all-such relentless truthfulness. ~ Carolyn Weber

In other words, let's give our young women the right weapons to fight with as they charge naked into battle, instead of ordering them to get back in the house and put some goddamn clothes on. ~ Amanda Palmer

Hanging back to get her reaction under control, she wiped her knife on the edge of her petticoat, then angled her body away so she could raise her skirts enough to slip the knife into its sheath, taking care not to drop the pilfered food cradled in her other arm. When she straightened, she expected Darius and Jacob to be well ahead but instead found her companions only a few yards away, their far-too-curious eyes riveted on her. "So that's where you keep it." Darius's attention dropped to a spot halfway down her skirt. "I had wondered." Nicole lifted her chin. "Yes, well, I tried carrying it around in one of those lacy little reticules, but it kept getting tangled in the ribbons. Not very practical." Keeping her eyes averted from Darius's face, she marched past the gawkers and headed for the house. ~ Karen Witemeyer

I suppose there has been nothing like the airports since the age of the stage-stops - nothing quite as lonely, as sombre-silent. The red-brick depots were built right into the towns they marked - people didn't get off at those isolated stations unless they lived there. But airports lead you way back in history like oases, like the stops on the great trade routes. The sight of air travellers strolling in ones and twos into midnight airports will draw a small crowd any night up or two. The young people look at the planes, the older ones look at the passengers with a watchful incredulity. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

If only i could get that under control then i feel like i could stay here a long time, watching the days leaking into the nights, swilling over the buildings, bleeding back again.
I could lie and not think of anything but ways to describe the sky, the clouds, the light. ~ Gwendoline Riley

I'm going out for muffins." "Give me five minutes to get my shoes on." "I don't have five minutes," I said. "I have things to do. I've got the panic button. I'll be fine. I'll bring a muffin back for you. What do you want, zucchini, no fat, no sugar, extra bran?" I turned to go and Ranger scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed. "Five minutes," he said, lacing his shoes. I lay there spread-eagle, waiting for him. "Very macho," I said. He grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet. "Sometimes you try my patience. ~ Janet Evanovich

Beyond those to another hall, with four doors--not woven doors, but real colorwood ones--redwood, bluewood, goldwood, greenwood--beautifully carved and obviously ancient.
The servants opened one and bowed me into a round-walled room that meant we were in a tower; windows on three sides looked out over the valley. The room was flooded with light, so much that I was dazzled for a moment and had to blink. Shading my eyes, I had a swift impression of a finely carved and gilded redwood table surrounded by blue satin cushions. Then I saw that the room was occupied.
Standing between two of the windows, almost hidden by slanting rays of sun, was a tall figure with pale blond hair.
The Marquis was looking down at the valley, hands clasped behind him. At the sound of the door closing behind me he looked up and came forward, and for a moment was a silhouette in the strong sunlight.
I stood with my back to the door. We were alone.
"Welcome to Renselaeus, Lady Meliara." And when I did not answer, he pointed to a side table. "Would you like anything to drink? To eat?"
"Why am I here?" I asked in a surly voice, suddenly and acutely aware of how ridiculous I must look dressed in his livery. "You may as well get the threats out at once. All this politeness seems about as false as…" As a courtier's word, I thought, but speech wouldn't come and I just shook my head.
He returned no immediate answer; instead seemed absorbed in pouring wine from a fine silver dec ~ Sherwood Smith

I think the child I was until 12 was so much more interesting than the teenager I became. As a teenager, you get wrapped up in your friends and sexual stuff, and the imaginative life you had, it just goes. And mine was so rich and fun. Fortunately, I was able to tap back into that later on [through my books] to save my life. ~ Judy Blume

Last night I had the dream again. Except it's not a dream I know because when it comes for me, I'm still awake.
There's my desk. The map on the wall. The Stuffed animals I don't play with anymore but don't want to hurt Dad's feelings by sticking in the closet I might be in bed. I might be just standing there, looking foe a missing sock. Then i'm gone.
it doesn't just show me somthing this time, it takes me from here to THERE> standing on the bank of a river of fire. A thousand wasps in my head. Fighting and dying inside my skull, their bodies piling up against the backs of me eyes. Stinging and stinging.
Dad's voice. Somewhere across the river. Calling my name. I've never heard him sound like that before. He's so frightened he can't hide it, even though he tries (he ALWAYS tries).
The dead boy floats by.
Facedown. So I wait for his head to pop up, show the holes where his eye used to be, say somthing with his blue lips. One of the terrible things it might make him do. But he just passes like a chunk of wood. I've never been here before, but I know it's real. The river is the line between this place and the Other Place. And I'm on the wrong side. There's a dark forest behind me but that's not what it is. I try to get to where Dad is. My toes touch the river and it sings with pain. Then there's arms pulling me back. Dragging me into the trees. They feel like a man's arms but it's not a man that sticks its fingers into my mouth. Nails that scratch the ~ Andrew Pyper

I kind of feel that once we're back in London and back in regular life, I just sort of get the bus and very occasionally this whole other role [ in Chronicels of Narnia] slips into my home life. Randomly people recognise me but even then it's very minor. It's not as if my life has been turned on its head and I can't walk down the street unless I'm wearing dark sunglasses and a ninja kit. ~ Skandar Keynes

There was this book Dad used to read to me every night called "The Giving Tree." It was a really good book, but the back of it had a picture of the author, this guy named Shel Silverstein.
But Shel Silverstein looks more like a burglar or a pirate than a guy who should be writing books for kids.
Dad must have known that picture kind of freaked me out, because one night after I got out of bed, Dad said: "IF YOU GET OUT OF BED AGAIN TONIGHT, YOU'LL PROBABLY RUN INTO SHEL SILVERSTEIN IN THE HALLWAY."
That really did the trick, Ever since then, I STILL don't get out of bed at night, even if I really need to use the bathroom. ~ Jeff Kinney

And then, with a shock like high-voltage coursing through me, the phone beside me started pealing thinly.

I just stood there and stared at it, blood draining from my face. A call to a tollbooth? It must, it must be a wrong number, somebody wanted the Information Booth or-! It must have been audible outside, with all I had the slide partly closed. One of the redcaps passing by turned, looked over, then started coming across toward where I was. To get rid of him I picked up the receiver, put it to my ear.

'You'd better come out now, time's up,' a flat, deadly voice said. 'They're calling your train, but you're not getting on that one - or any other.'

'Wh-where are talking from?'

'The next booth to yours,' the voice jeered. 'You forgot the glass inserts only reach halfway down.'

The connection broke and a man's looming figure was shadowing the glass in front of my eyes, before I could even get the receiver back on the hook. I dropped it full-length, tensed my right arm to pound it through his face as soon as I shoved the glass aside. He had a revolver-bore for a top vest-button, trained on me. Two more had shown up behind him, from which direction I hadn't noticed. It was very dark in the booth now, their collective silhouettes shut out all the daylight. The station and all its friendly bustle was blotted out, had receded into the far background, a thousand miles away for all the help it could give me. I slapped the glass ~ Cornell Woolrich

Did you ever climb into one of those suits of armor?"
"Caine did once-it took me over an hour to pry him out."
Shelby gave a murmur of sympathy as she framed his face with her hands. "You were such a good boy." Her laugh was muffled against his lips in a sudden searing kiss.All heat,all fire, without a moment's warning.
"He climbed in," Alan continued as he tugged her hair back to deepen the kiss, "because I suggested it might be an interesting experience."
Breathless,Shelby stared up at him. When would she be prepared for those sudden dangerous turns of his nature? "An instigator," she managed.
"An objective leader," he corrected before he released her. "And I did manage to get him out...after he'd scared the wits out of Rena."
For a moment she leaned against the wall watching him, while the throbbing in her body slowly, very slowly, lessened. "I don't believe you were nearly as well-mannered as you once told me.You probably deserved that broken nose."
"Caine deserved it more."
Shelby laughed again as they moved down another corridor. "I like your family."
"So do I."
"And you enjoyed watching me go nose-to-nose with your father."
"I've always been fond of drawing-room comedies."
"Drawing room? It's more like a throne room. ~ Nora Roberts

Lachlan frowned as he misjudged the distance and his forehead hit Cormag's head with a bump. He wrapped his arms around his neck to steady himself, two big hands reaching up to hold onto his arms as if to offer extra support. "You," he began, talking quietly into his ear, "are so beautiful," he confessed, resting his heavy skull against Cormag's for a moment.
He meant it as well. Cormag was stunning. He was taller and broader than he was, very much the fine figure of hotness. His dark hair was well kept, but a little messy, he had amazing bone structure; the type that made him look more like a model than a museum manager. A chiselled jaw, nicely defined cheekbones and a rugged quality that
made him so appealing. He had never noticed how handsome a male face could be until those eyes drew him in.
"And so are you," his companion chuckled, "but we discussed this…I've ruined every relationship I've ever had. I get needy, possessive and my baggage gets in the way.
Besides," he lowered his voice to a whisper and brushed his hand over his upper arm, "You're not gay," he protested, reminding him yet again that they were different.
"Nope. Not gay," he agreed with that, nodding his head as he pulled back a little to see him better. "But that doesn't make you any less beautiful. Why is it wrong that I can see how special you are?" he asked, having difficulty understanding why part of his brain
was telling him he was being a drunken idiot and that the man be ~ Elaine White

Philosophy can be said to consist of three activities: to see the commonsense answer, to get yourself so deeply into the problem that the common sense answer is unbearable, and to get from that situation back to the commonsense answer. ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

Nina strained to see over the lip of the canal and down the street. "What's taking Matthias so long? Do you think that medik gave him trouble?"
But then she saw him striding toward her across the empty square. He raised his hand in greeting. She leapt from the boat and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.
"Drüsje," he said against her hair. "You're all right."
"Of course I'm all right. You're the one who's late."
"I thought I wouldn't be able to find you in the storm."
Nina pulled back. "Did you stop to get drunk on the way here?"
He cupped her cheek with his hand. "No," he said, and then he kissed her. "Matthias!"
"Did I do it wrong?"
"No, you did it splendidly.
But I'm the one who always kisses you first."
"We should change that," he said, and then he slumped against her.
"Matthias?"
"It's nothing. I needed to see you again. ~ Leigh Bardugo

Good-bye,' I said to them, but they didn't seem to hear me, and why would they have wanted to? Why would they have wanted to do with the world outside of each other? Outside each other, they were mean little human beings like the rest of us, the kind of people you both loathed and pitied. Separately, they were characters, and not in a good way. But together they were something to wonder at and maybe even envy. I had this unoriginal thought as I walked out the door and toward my van: love changes us, makes us into people whom others then want to love. That's why, to those of us without it, love is the voice asking, What else? What else? And to those of us who have had love and lost it or thrown it away, then love is the voice that leads us back to love, to see if it might still be ours or if we've lost it, love is also the thing that makes us speak in aphorisms about love, which is why we try to get love back, so we can stop speaking that way. Aphoristically, that is. ~ Brock Clarke

Maybe that's partly why I'm an actor, I'm a fairly empathetic, emotional person, so I get very, very involved when it's really, really great when I'm watching - so it takes me a second to click back into reality again. ~ Gabriel Mann

He smiled at her. "Now, are you going to thank me properly?"

"I said 'thank you.' That's considered in some cultures as thanking you properly."

"I was hoping for a little more than that."

She studied him for a long moment before she nodded.

"All right." She scooted down a bit on the bed, pulled her gown up high on her thighs, and relaxed back into the mattress. "If you could make it quick before the food gets here, that would be great."

Gwenvael felt a small twitch beneath his eye. He often got something similar right on his eyelid but only when he had to deal with his father. Apparently a new one had developed that belonged only to Lady Dagmar. "That's not what I meant."

"I hope you're not expecting me to get on my knees because I don't think the healer - "

"No!" Good gods, this woman! "That's not what I meant, either."

"That's always what men mean when they ask to be thanked properly."

"Your world frightens me. I want us to be clear on that." He leaned over and grabbed her waist, lifting her until her back again rested on the propped-up pillows.

"I'm unclear as to what you want, then."

"A kiss," he said, pulling her dress back down to her ankles. "A simple kiss. ~ G.A. Aiken

Brandon," Marc said.
"Say something so she can hear you."
"You're in deep shit, Kayli," Brandon said.
"Can he hear me?" I asked Marc.
"I can hear you," Brandon said in my ear, a little fuzzy, like he was standing in another room with the door closed, but I could make out what he was saying.
"Just wait until I get a hold of you."
"Raven," I pretended to plea. "Brandon said he was going to hurt me."
"I'll kill him," he said. He jammed his own ear plug into his noggin.
"Corey? Yeah. Hit your brother once for me. No, in the dick. No, he won't hit you back. I promise."
"Cut it out, you guys," Marc said.
"How come I can't hear Corey?" I asked.
"I get Corey," Raven said. "You get Brandon."
"I want to switch."
"I said stop," Marc barked at us.

Stone, C. L. (2014-02-24). Thief: The Scarab Beetle Series: #1 (The Academy Scarab Beetle Series) (Kindle Locations 5192-5200). Arcato Publishing. Kindle Edition. ~ C.L.Stone

But no, he'd touched her before. It was only when she tried to touch him that he had a problem.
The hell with it, she thought. She wasn't trying to get into his non-existent pants, and this was about survival. He might be misinterpreting her actions but he'd figure it out when nothing happened. At this point, she was ready to back him into a corner if she had to. Chasing him around the cell would keep her warm at least. ~ V.C. Lancaster

I lived in a suitcase for a year, and then a relationship brought me to New York for about four months, then I lived in Melbourne. Then I moved back to Gothenburg because the immigrant laws are strict for both Australia and the U.S., and I would have to marry someone to get into those countries. But I wouldn't really be able to get involved in a sham marriage without being able to tell anyone about it. ~ Jens Lekman

First of all he might be a she we'll be finding that out tomorrow."
"Hold it, fuck no you didn't tell me about that, we need to discuss that shit. I've pretty much come to terms with the whole having a baby deal but no girls Kat that's where I draw the fucking line." Her mouth fell open and she actually shook her head at me before busting into laughter and turned around to leave the room.
"Get back here we're not finished. ~ Jordan Silver

Tate was sprawled across the bed in his robe early the next morning when the sound of the front door opening penetrated his mind. There was an unholy commotion out there and his head was still throbbing, despite a bath, several cups of coffee and a handful of aspirin that had been forced on him the day before by two men he'd thought were his friends. He didn't want to sober up. He only wanted to forget that Cecily didn't want him anymore.
He dragged himself off the bed and went into the living room, just in time to hear the door close.
Cecily and her suitcase were standing with mutual rigidity just inside the front door. She was wearing a dress and boots and a coat and hat, red-faced and muttering words Tate had never heard her use before.
He scowled. "How did you get here?" he asked.
"Your boss brought me!" she raged. "He and that turncoat Colby Lane and two bodyguards, one of whom was the female counterpart of Ivan the Terrible! They forcibly dressed me and packed me and flew me up here on Mr. Hutton's Learjet! When I refused to get out of the car, the male bodyguard swept me up and carried me here! I am going to kill people as soon as I get my breath and my wits back, and I am starting with you!"
He leaned against the wall, still bleary-eyed and only half awake. She was beautiful with her body gently swollen and her lips pouting and her green eye sin their big-lensed frames glittering at him.
She registered after a minute that he wasn't himsel ~ Diana Palmer