Get Me Out Of Here Quotes

get me out of here! ~ Kaeleigh Forsyth

I know that if I had a television in my flat I would convince myself that everything on it was really interesting. I would say, 'I'm a Celebrity - Get Me Out of Here!' is so sociologically fascinating that I think I'd better watch. ~ Brian Eno

They kept saying 'It's sushi-grade!' And I'm like ... 'Put some soy sauce on this. Get me some rice. And cook it. And then get me out of here. ~ Jennifer Lawrence

When I knew I was going to be able to write full time, I wondered, "What's going to happen to the relationships within my family?" Are they going to change? Is it going to be the kind of deal where you say, "I can't take this! Get me out of here! I can't stand these screaming kids!" The way it turned out was, I was able to change the diapers okay, after I stuck the pin through my fingers a few times. I had a dawning realization that children are not particularly hard to deal with. ~ Stephen King

Suicides - you read of it ... but you don't know the truth, if you were to see it you would go insane! Cut throats, cut wrists, hangings, suffocating, eyes bulging and tongues protruding, more shit. Suicides always shit themselves, did you know that! Life's final shit, the final act of madness; smell that you rats! Clean me up you pigs, zip me up in the bag you scum and get me out of here ... Get me the fuck out of here ... get me out! ~ Stephen Richards

The neighbors could be as mad as they want, but I'm not running a business at the house. It's just a location. It will never get me out of here, because I don't have offices set up at my house, and that's what the township thinks. ~ Bam Margera

I've always competed in those shows. Like, I won 'Fear Factor', I did 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here', I did 'The Mole', 'Celebrity Apprentice' with Donald Trump. I've done a lot of those shows, all in the hope of being a blessing to my mom's organization. ~ Stephen Baldwin

I was actually pretty miserable in high school. I couldn't wait for it to be over. And when it finally was, I remember sitting at graduation with all these classmates getting nostalgic and emotional already and all I could think was, "Get me out of here. I never want to see you people again." So it's ironic that I spend half my day putting myself back there by choice [while writing]. ~ Sarah Dessen

Get me out of this," Caine demanded.
Quinn said, "It's not so easy. You should know: you're the scumbag who invented cementing. ~ Michael Grant

I want to see gay couples stuck with their significant other at Home Depot with that far away look in their eye, get me out of here. ~ David Alan Grier

I went down on one knee in front of her. It was melodramatic, I know, but she was a teenager, and I thought she would probably buy it. "Samantha," I said. "All you have to do is just let me try. Do nothing, and I won't try to get you out of here against your will. You have my solemn word of honor." There was no crash of thunder, not even the sound of distant laughter, and in spite of my recent epidemic of unpleasant emotions, I felt no shame. And I believe I did it very convincingly. In fact, I think it was the performance of a lifetime - I didn't mean a word of it, of course, but under the circumstances I would gladly have promised her a ride on my flying saucer if it would get me out of here. And ~ Jeff Lindsay

When you're not fully trusting in the Lord you're concerned mostly about rescue. "I'm a Christian, get me out of here!" And the Lord is saying, "You're kidding, right? I want to teach you who you are in this situation!" In some of our situations, He gives us power and authority to move. In other situations He gives us patience because that works just as powerfully, it's just going to take a few extra weeks. ~ Graham Cooke

And I guess that was right, but it also seemed to me like people who said Ben was special and had no worries were as wrong as the people long ago, but in a different way.
Because that's crappy. What if this life was all Ben got? People said he was sweet and special - and he was - but he was also sad and angry. More than most people. He cried. His own body seemed to feel weird to him sometimes - he would jump and move like he wanted to be free of his skin. I could see him looking at us like Get me out of here and we were never sure where to take him. You can't take someone away from their own body. And that seemed unfair. Would God really do that to someone so other people could feel like they were learning important lessons in the few minutes they spent with him? ~ Ally Condie

They're pushing me to do Howard. Howard's a trip. My friend made me watch the Lesbian Love Connection and I was like, Oh God, get me out of here! ~ Sherilyn Fenn

Medea? Don't worry. Satara's rooms are far enough away that you won't be subjected to the sounds of wild monkey sex. (Stryker)
Ew! You were right, Mum. I should have allowed you to cut his throat. Get me out of here as quickly as possible. (Stryker) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

I've never been asked to appear on 'I'm a Celebrity ... Get Me Out of Here!,' so I guess I mustn't be on the professional skids just yet. ~ Robin Williams

I will never do 'I'm a Celebrity ... Get Me Out of Here!' There are certain things you'll do that you have some control over, but you should do things that leave your fate in the hands of others, too. ~ Terry Wogan

Look, Winged Wonder. Get me out of here, then we'll hammer out the details about where I'm staying. Okay?"
"Winged Wonder," he said, nodding. "I find that I do not mind that one. It fits."
"Captain Modesty fits better," she muttered.
"I disagree. Winged Wonder is clearly the better choice for a man such as me."
-Annabelle and Zacharel ~ Gena Showalter

I've been a problem for nineteen years. I'm too tired to be one tonight. Just get me out of here." An ~ Nora Sakavic

Ren took his time perusing the menu and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. I didn't even pick my menu up. He shot me meaningful glances while I sat silently, trying to avoid making eye contact. When she came back, she spoke to him briefly and gestured to me.
I smiled, and in a syrupy sweet voice, said, "I'll have whatever will get me out of here the fastest. Like a salad, maybe."
Ren smiled benignly back at me and rattled off what sounded like a banquet of choices, which the waitress was more than happy to take her time writing down. She kept touching him and laughing with him too. Which I found very, very annoying.
When she left, he leaned back in his chair and sipped his water.
I broke the silence first and hissed at him quietly, "I don't know what you're playing at, but you only have about two minutes left, so I hope you ordered the steak tartar, Tiger."
He grinned mischievously. "We'll see, Kells. We'll see."
"Fine. No skin off my nose. I can't wait to see what happens when a white tiger runs through this nice establishment creating mayhem and havoc. Perhaps they will lose one of their stars because they put their patrons in danger. Maybe your new waitress girlfriend will run away screaming." I smiled at the thought.
Ren affected shock, "Why, Kelsey! Are you jealous?"
I snorted in a very unladylike way. "No! Of course not."
He grinned. Nervously, I played with my cloth napkin. "I can't believe you convinced Mr. Kadam to ~ Colleen Houck

We've instrumentalized niceness as a way of greasing the social wheels, yet it's often a ruse. We're polite and we don't disagree to get through daily existence with the least degree of friction. But by turning niceness into a lubricant, we've leeched it of meaning. A smile and a nod might signify "Get me out of here!" as much as it means "Nice to meet you." That's ~ Chris Voss

Hardy! Hardy - " He had come for me. I nearly lost it then. In the wild torrent of relief and gratitude, there were at least a dozen things I wanted to tell him at once. But the first thing that came out was a fervent, "I'm so sorry I didn't have sex with you."
I heard his low laugh. "I am too. But honey, there are a couple of maintenance guys with me who can hear every word we're saying."
"I don't care," I said desperately. "Get me out of here and I swear I'll sleep with you. ~ Lisa Kleypas

S.O.S. I NEED YOUR HELP. I AM INJURED, NEAR DEATH, AND TOO WEAK TO HIKE OUT OF HERE. I AM ALL ALONE, THIS IS NO JOKE. IN THE NAME OF GOD, PLEASE REMAIN TO SAVE ME. I AM OUT COLLECTING BERRIES CLOSE BY AND SHALL RETURN THIS EVENING. THANK YOU, CHRIS MCCANDLESS. AUGUST? ~ Jon Krakauer

You okay?" I ask him.
He nods. "I'll live. Hey, it's your turn."
"My turn for what?"
"I told you my deepest, darkest secret." He tilts his head at me. "Now you've got to tell me one of yours."
"One of my secrets?"
"Yeah. C'mon, I know you've got a bunch of 'em."
"Oh, I do, huh?"
"You're too perfect not to be hiding something," he says, and my cheeks flood with heat.
Me, too perfect? He's got to be kidding. Only…he looks serious. And earnest. I look down at the camera in my hand, studying it, and then back up at him. I can't explain it, but I suddenly want to tell him. At least, I want to tell someone, and he's here, a captive audience. I hesitate a second or two, then blurt it out before I lose my nerve.
"I want to go to film school." I meet his gaze, his eyes round with surprise. "In New York. ~ Kristi Cook

Little minx," he whispered.
Smile widening, Suzette shifted and wiggled about on top of him again, inadvertantly leaning her breasts briefly closer to his face as she appeared to try to find a more comfortable position. He suspected the action was more to torture him than out of any true desire to get more comfortable and was proven correct when she murmured, "This reminds me of the first time we were alone in a carriage together,my lord."
Daniel closed his eyes against the view of her breasts not even an inch from his face as she twisted her upper body in his lap. Damn, she was so close that if he stuck his tongue out, he could run it across the top curves along the neckline of her gown, he thought. But then his eyes popped open again when she shifted once more and added in almost an undertone, "As I recall, we didn't reach our destination there, either. ~ Lynsay Sands

Such incidents usually move me to try to find relief in the building of a maxim. It is a good way, because if you have luck you can get the venom out of yourself and into the maxim; then comfort and a healed spirit follow. Maxims are not easy to make; they do not come in right shape at the first call; they are creatures of evolution, of development; you have to try several plans before you get one that suits you, or even comes fairly near to suiting you. ~ Mark Twain

Bring it home? All right, let's bring it home. If you was hit by a truck and you was lying out there in that gutter dying, and you had time to sing one song, one song that people would remember before you're dirt, one song that would let God know how you felt about your time here on Earth, one song that would sum you up -- you tellin' me that's the song you'd sing? That same Jimmy Davis tune we hear on the radio all day, about your peace within, and how it's real, and how you're gonna shout it? Or... would you sing somethin' different. Somethin' real. Somethin' you felt. Cause I'm tellin' you right now, that's the kind of song people want to hear. That's the kind of song that truly saves people. ~ Sam Phillips

Yo, beautiful. Come pop this collar off me."
Natalya hissed, "Are you mad?"
"What's she gonna do? Vivisect me? Imprison me? We've got a pact to fulfill,remember?"
To Dorada, she cried, "Seriously, sweetheart, shake that mummified ass over here."
Regin kicked the glass. "Lemme the fuck out - "
La Dorada swung her head around,peering at Regin with her one eye.
"Okay. That's freaky. Lookit, Gollum, if you spring me, I'll help you find your Precious. ~ Kresley Cole

No, you're not free," he said. "The string you're tied to is perhaps no longer than other people's. That's all. You're on a long piece of string, boss; you come and go, and think you're free, but you never cut the string in two. And when people don't cut that string . . ."
"I'll cut it some day!" I said defiantly, because Zorba's words had touched an open wound in me and hurt.
"It's difficult, boss, very difficult. You need a touch of folly to do that; folly, d'you see? You have to risk everything! But you've got such a strong head, it'll always get the better of you. A man's head is like a grocer; it keeps accounts: I've paid so much and earned so much and that means a profit of this much or a loss of that much! The head's a careful little shopkeeper; it never risks all it has, always keeps something in reserve. It never breaks the string. Ah no! It hangs on tight to it, the bastard! If the string slips out of its grasp, the head, poor devil, is lost, finished! But if a man doesn't break the string, tell me, what flavor is left in life? The flavor of camomile, weak camomile tea! Nothing like rum-that makes you see life inside out! ~ Nikos Kazantzakis

In addition to the gremlins, another thing that gets in the way of meaningful work is the struggle to define who we are and what we do in an honest way. In a world that values the primacy of work, the most common question that we ask and get asked is, "What do you do?" I used to wince every time someone asked me this question. I felt like my choices were to reduce myself to an easily digestible sound bite or to confuse the hell out of people. Now my answer to "What do you do?" is, "How much time do you have?" Most of us have complicated answers to this question. For example, I'm a mom, partner, researcher, writer, storyteller, sister, friend, daughter, and teacher. All of these things make up who I am, so I never know how to answer that question. ~ Brene Brown

We walked down the back stairwell into the garden where the old breakfast table used to be. 'This was my father's spot. I call it his ghost spot. My spot used to be over there, if you remember.' I pointed to where my old table used to stand by the pool.

'Did I have a spot?' he asked with a half grin.

'You'll always have a spot.'

I wanted to tell him that the pool, the garden, the house, the tennis court, the orle of paradise, the whole place, would always be his ghost spot. Instead, I pointed upstairs to the French windows of his room. Your eyes are forever there, I wanted to say, trapped in the sheer curtains, staring out from my bedroom upstairs where no one sleeps these days. When there's a breeze and they swell and I look up from down here or stand outside on the balcony, I'll catch myself thinking that you're in there, staring out from your world to my world, saying, as you did on that one night when I found you on the rock, I've been happy here. You're thousands of miles away but no sooner do I look at this window than I'll think of a bathing suit, a shirt thrown on on the fly, arms resting on the banister, and you're suddenly there, lighting up your first cigarette of the day - twenty years ago today. For as long as the house stands, this will be your ghost spot - and mine too, I wanted to say. ~ Andre Aciman

The art historians are the real wreckers of art, Reger said. The art historians twaddle so long about art until they have killed it with their twaddle. Art is killed by the twaddle of the art historians. My God, I often think, sitting here on the settee while the art historians are driving their helpless flocks past me, what a pity about all these people who have all art driven out of them, driven out of them for good, by these very art historians. The art historians' trade is the vilest trade there is, and a twaddling art historian, but then there are only twaddling art historians, deserves to be chased out with a whip, chased out of the world of art, Reger said, all art historians deserve to be chased out of the world of art, because art historians are the real wreckers of art and we should not allow art to be wrecked by the art historians who are really art wreckers. Listening to an art historian we feel sick, he said, by listening to an art historian we see the art he is twaddling about being ruined, with the twaddle of the art historian art shrivels and is ruined. Thousands, indeed tens of thousands of art historians wreck art by their twaddle and ruin it, he said. The art historians are the real killers of art, if we listen to an art historian we participate in the wrecking of art, wherever an art historian appears art is wrecked, that is the truth. ~ Thomas Bernhard

Barrons' head whipped around and he stared at me. You said nothing of this to me?
You said nothing to me about my mother? What do you know about her? About me?
His dark gaze promised retribution for my oversight.
So did mine.
I hated this. Barrons and I were enemies. It confused my head and hurt my heart. I'd grieved him as if I'd lost the only person who mattered to me, and now here we were, adversaries again. Were we destined to be eternal enemies?
One of us is going to have to trust the other, I told him.
Your first, Ms. Lane.
That was the whole problem. Neither of us would take the risk. I had a lengthy list of reasons why I shouldn't, and they were sound. My daddy could take the case all the way to the Supreme Court, arguing my side. Barrons didn't inspire trust. He didn't even bother trying.
When hell freezes over, Barrons.
Same bloody page, Ms. Lane. Same bloody -
I turned my gaze away in the middle of his sentence, the ocular equivalent of flipping him the bird.
Ryodan was watching us, hard.
"Butt out," I warned. "This is between him and me. All you need to do is keep my parents safe and - "
"Little hard to do when you're such a fucking loose cannon. ~ Karen Marie Moning

I didn't want to be a slave to any passion anymore. I gave up card playing altogether, even bridge and gambling - more or less. It took me a few years to get out of it. ~ Omar Sharif

Dominic, with the powerful aura, got under my skin before I had a chance to ward him off and now I'm screwed.

Even more now I know his taste and how hard he feels against the soft, wet parts of me.

Dominic just introduced me to the most dangerous man in New York.

Fuck. Fuck. Clarity pours over me.

Does this mean Dominic is a member of the mafia after all?

Only it wasn't only a little kiss, was it? I'm sexually frustrated and Dom is standing there with his hands in his tailored pants pockets, aroused.

The bulge is unmistakable.

"Gabriella…"

God, I'm wet too. If I rub my thighs together, I'll feel how much. He's hard, I'm wet… it's a match made in heaven.

"Gabriella…" he says again, thick and tarnished as I look him up and down.

"Yeah?"

"I said you're too far away," he murmurs, cutting his dark gaze my way. Stirring me. "Come here to me, cara." he hooks two fingers with a motion and smirks like a devil with the key to all my desires. I swear my belly bottoms out as my feet carry me forward. Unable to refuse the invisible rope he has around my waist, pulling me closer.

"Bossy aren't you?"
"I am your boss."
"I don't think you want to remind me of that."

He hums and the rumble hurtles down between my thighs.

How does he do that? Turn me on with just a noise.

"I guess you'd like it if I called you sir, wouldn' ~ V. Theia

We perceive things differently. For you receiving Jesus means shouting from the hill praises to the Lord. For me, it is a deep and intimate mystical experience. For you living by the Word of God means having leveled and measured life, not smoking, not drinking, and obeying to His Biblical commands as strict as possible. For me, living by the Word of God means trying to find my true path and destiny. Learning who I am, why I am here and what God wants am, why I am here and what God wants me to do. To find that out, sometimes I have to dig deep into those magical and occult books, which you dismiss so easily."
"The only book you need Michael is the Holy Bible. Everything is written in there. All the answers you are searching for. But you have to read with your heart, not your mind. All those other books will just confuse you and blur your mind."
"I disagree. I can't believe I am hearing this from the Pastor of the church in the twenty -first century. Are you sure you didn't fly in with some time machine from the inquisition age. ~ Stevan V. Nikolic

Have you considered what you might do to help? You have recovered, so you cannot get the fever again. You are young and strong. We have a real need for you."
"How can I help anyone? I'm just a girl." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to pinch myself. The first time anyone treats me like a woman and I respond like an infant. ~ Laurie Halse Anderson

Don't defend him! This is bullshit!" he said as he turned for the door, and then turned back to face me. "I've been sitting at work this whole time, staring at those fucking things. I wanted to calm down before I got here, but this is just . . . it's fucking disrespectful, is what it is! I bust my ass trying to prove to you that I'm better for you than he ever was. But he keeps pulling this shit, and showing up, and . . . I can't compete with some rich college boy from California. I'm barely getting by, with no degree, and up until a few days ago I still lived with my dad. But I am so fucking in love you, Cami," he said, reaching for me. "I have been since we were kids. The first time I saw you on the playground, I knew what beauty was. The first time you ignored me was my first broken heart. I thought I was playing this right, from the moment I sat down at your table at the Red. No one has ever wanted someone as much as I want you. For years I . . ." He was breathing hard, and he clenched his jaw. "When I heard about your dad, I wanted to rescue you," he said, chuckling, but not out of humor. "And that night at your apartment, I thought I'd finally gotten something right." He pointed to the ground. "That my purpose in life was to love you and keep you safe . . . but I didn't prepare for having to share you. ~ Jamie McGuire

Leo cried, "Hold on! Let's have some manners here. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?"
"I am Cal!" the ox grunted. He looked very proud of himself, like he'd taken a long time to memorize that sentence.
"That's short for Calais," the love god said. "Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables--"
"Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!" Cal offered.
"--which includes his own name," the love god finished.
"I am Cal," Cal repeated. "And this is Zethes! My brother!"
"Wow," Leo said. "That was almost three sentences, man! Way to go."
Cal grunted, obviously pleased with himself.
"Stupid buffoon," his brother grumbled. "They make fun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short for Zethes. And the lady there--" He winked at piper, but the wink was more like a facial seizure. "She can call me anything she likes. Perhaps she would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we must destroy you? ~ Rick Riordan

'Grey's Anatomy' has given me a lot of security, especially as my kids have grown older. Plus, for the last eight years, I didn't have to get on a plane and go to do a job out of town or in another part of the world. ~ Justin Chambers

-You do know to put the condom on as soon as the penis is erect, don't you?
-I paid a fortune for bananas out of season in case you need the practice.
This is a trap. If I say, Oh yeah, I roll rubbers onto new dry erections all the time, I'll get the slut lecture from my father. But if I tell them, No, we'll get to spend Christmas Day practicing to protect me from fruit. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

It was so awful! And he kept on looking at me and I knew I must get out of bed or he'd come and touch me. I did, too, but when I got out I wasn't me-I was a little white bunny. And he started out of the room and I had to go with him for fear he'd touch me. It felt so horrid, going out with him and looking back at mother there asleep.

"We went into the main part of the house, and one of the big front doors was open, and we went out through it. And then he gave a big jump, and so did I, and it took us clear up into the sky. We couldn't fly, but we kept jumping and jumping.

"Sometimes we stayed in the sky a little while, jumping from cloud to cloud, and the moon would get closer and closer and bigger and bigger, and its face would change and get horrible and grin at us until it seemed like its mouth was a mile wide and open, to swallow us up. And then we'd come down again and jump from one cliff to another, and the sea would be roaring down under us, and the waves all grey and cold and moving around and boiling like they were mad or afraid.

"We went all over the island and sometimes we jumped over the sea to the mainland and back again; and sometimes I tried to get away and run back to Mother - I thought she'd know me even if I was a bunny - but always, whichever way I turned, the hare was there in front of me, and his teeth were shining.

"We kept it up all night, and I was so tired and cold and miserable, and so scared. I didn't know ~ Evangeline Walton

She nodded anxiously. Kyle sucked on his Popsicle, assessing her eagerness, wondering if he should tell her she was the best sex he's ever had. She would never believe him anyways, so instead, he told her where to improve as she asked. "You can get ahead if you give better head. Got me?"

"Ah, okay. What would you suggest?"

He stared at her mouth as it moved up and down the frozen treat. "Want to practice?"

She gave him a cynical look. "I'm eating my dessert right now."

"Okay, practice on that. See how deep you can go."

She looked at the sweet treat in her hand and back at him. "I'll choke."

"I know CPR. Don't worry. I won't let you. Pretend it's me. I'll be able to direct you better if I'm not the test subject."

She shrugged and inserted the Popsicle in her mouth.

"Wait," he said, knocking it out of her hand.

"Why did you do that?"

He took the discarded Popsicle and ran to the kitchen. He retrieved a new one that wasn't broken in halves. "If you're going to pretend it's me, we should be more realistic," he said, unwrapping it for her. "At least in terms of girth. The length... well, you'll have to use your imagination."

"Um...grape," she replied and licked the edge.

He sat down and rested his chin on his hands to watch her. She licked it a few times and then shocked him by taking a small bite off the top. She gave him an amused smile. Kyle shook ~ M.K. Schiller

This week
in live current
events: your eyes.

All power can be
dangerous:
Direct

or alternating,
you, socket to me.
Plugged in and the grid

is humming,
this electricity,
molecule-deep desire:

particular friction, a charge
strong enough to stop
a heart

or start it
again; volt, re-volt--
I shudder, I stutter, I start

to life. I've got my ion
you, copper-top,
so watch how you

conduct yourself.
Here's today's
newsflash: a battery of rolling

blackouts in California, sudden,
like lightning kisses:
sudden, whitehot

darkness and you're
here, fumbling for
that small switch

with an urgent surge
strong enough to kill
lesser machines.

Static makes hair raise,
makes things cling,
makes things rise like

a gathering storm
charging outside
our darkened house

and here I am:
tempest, pouring out
mouthfulls

of tsunami on the ground,
I've got that rain-soaked kite,
that drenched key.

You know what it's for,
circuit-breaker, you know
how to kiss until it's hertz. ~ Daphne Gottlieb

Indeed, since ancient times, when the life of which I do know something began, people who knew the arguments concerning the vanity of life, the arguments that revealed to me its meaninglessness, lived nonetheless, bringing to life a meaning of their own. Since the time when people somehow began to live, this meaning of life has been with them, and they have led this life up to my own time. Everything that is in me and around me is the fruit of their knowledge of life. The very tools of thought by which I judge life and condemn it were created not by me but by them. I myself was born, educated and have grown up thanks to them. They dug out the iron, taught us how to cut the timber, tamed the cattle and the horses, showed us how to sow crops and live together; they brought order to our lives. They taught me how to think and to speak. I am their offspring, nursed by them, reared by them, taught by them; I think according to their thoughts, their words, and now I have proved to them that it is all meaningless! "Something is wrong here," I said to myself. "I must have made a mistake somewhere. ~ Leo Tolstoy

How long have you been dating her?' I asked.
Nine months. We never got along. I mean, I didn't even briefly like her. Like, my mom and my dad- my dad would get pissed, and then he would beat the shit out of my mom. And then my dad would be all nice and they'd have a honeymoon period. But with Sara, there's never a honeymoon period. God, how could she think I was a rat? I know, I know: Why don't we break up?' He ran a hand through his hair, clutching a fistful of it atop his head, and said, ' I guess I saty with her because she stays with me. And that's not an easy thing to do. I'm a bad boyfriend. She's a bad girlfriend. We deserve each other. ~ John Green

Yeah, about last night … it's been brought to my attention that I may have been a little out of line with somethings I did and said so - "

"Really? Such as …"

I can't believe he's going to make me say it. He's so frustrating. One minute he's cleaning puke off the drunk girl, showing his kind side, and the next he's trying to humiliate me. Granted, I do a pretty good job of setting myself up for it.

"Such as drinking too much to begin with, then maybe giving the impression that I was … jealous of Claire, or Dr. Brown."

"You mean Dr. Skank?"

Shit!

"Yes - I mean - no, not Dr. Skank. I don't remember calling her that, but if I did then I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." I may have meant it.

"Don't sweat it, Syd. I think you're adorable when you get all jealous."

"I was not jealous!" I yell in a high-pitched voice.

"Uh … your striptease was entitled 'Where Lautner's hands will never be again if he doesn't keep them off Dr. Skank.'"

Kill me now and never let another drop of alcohol pass my lips.

"So how was golf?"

Lautner laughs. "I take it we're done talking about last night?"

"It's pointless because it's your word against mine, unless Swarley goes all Bush Beans Duke on me."

"God, you're something else. So what did you call about?"

"Oh … just to …"

"I'm just flipping ya shit. I know why you called."

H ~ Jewel E. Ann

I'm about to wake Brianna up to see if she knows anything when Carolyn comes in. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she's wearing workout clothes - sports bra, cropped leggins, running shoes.
For a moment, I'm speechless. She's sweaty, her face is bright red from exertion, and she's slightly out of breath. Her ab muscles pulse as she takes a swig from her water bottle. She smiles at me, her lips wet from the water or sweat or both, and something strange happen-I feel like a hand has clenched around my insides and is tugging, urging me toward her, and I suddenly feel very warm. Hot, even. Like I've been hit with a fever. I have to remind myself to breathe.
She's even more beautiful now than she was yesterday.
And here I am, in this ridiculous pink sack, probably with major bedhead. ~ Jessica Verdi

I say," he said, smiling his very white smile and pulling
her a touch closer. "You don't look half bad in the sunlight. It
brings out a perky red in your hair."
"Oh, honestly," said Azalea, trying to tug her hand away
gently. "Mr. Hyette, please."
"You don't find me handsome?"
"No."
Mr. Hyette's smile faded.
"Now see here," he said. "You certainly have no right to
be picky. Everyone knows the point of this silly riddle is to
find the future King. ~ Heather Dixon

Therefore Flora said, though still not without a certain boastfulness and triumph in her legacy, that Mr F.'s Aunt was 'very lively to-day, and she thought they had better go.' But Mr F.'s Aunt proved so lively as to take the suggestion in unexpected dudgeon and declare that she would not go; adding, with several injurious expressions, that if 'He'--too evidently meaning Clennam--wanted to get rid of her, 'let him chuck her out of winder;' and urgently expressing her desire to see 'Him' perform that ceremony.

In this dilemma, Mr Pancks, whose resources appeared equal to any emergency in the Patriarchal waters, slipped on his hat, slipped out at the counting-house door, and slipped in again a moment afterwards with an artificial freshness upon him, as if he had been in the country for some weeks. 'Why, bless my heart, ma'am!' said Mr Pancks, rubbing up his hair in great astonishment, 'is that you?

How do you do, ma'am? You are looking charming to-day! I am delighted to see you. Favour me with your arm, ma'am; we'll have a little walk together, you and me, if you'll honour me with your company.' And so escorted Mr F.'s Aunt down the private staircase of the counting-house with great gallantry and success.

- Little Dorrit, Charles Dickens ~ Charles Dickens

So Kole how do you do it? I mean seriously Lexi sounded like she was having a constant orgasm. I need to set you down with Radley…his game is slipping a bit." I about choked on my own spit, "Oh f$$k no…conversation over. I am not ragging on my boy. I'm out of here." I slid out from under Lexi and left her with Megan, sitting on my bed to go look for Radley. I heard them laughing uncontrollably as I walked down the hallway.

"Radley…where the f$$k are you man? Your girl needs your help," I hollered as I came down the stairs. He was on the couch watching the football game, "Where is she…she disappeared on me?" I flopped down next to him. "She's upstairs with Lex talking about your lack of sexual abilities." He laughed, "F$$k…Whatever. ~ C.A. Harms

You've won," Jack said softly. He looked at Mimi with such fiery hatred that she almost cowered at his words. But she was no weakling. She was Azrael, and Azrael did not cower, not even to Abbadon.
"I've won nothing," Mimi replied coldly. "Please remember that almost all of the Elders are dead, that the
Dark Prince is ascendant, and what is left of the Conclave is being led by a broken man who used to be the strongest of us all. And yet all you seem to care about, my darling, is that you no longer get to play with your little love toy."
Instead of answering her, Jack flew across the room and slapped her hard across the face, sending her
crashing to the floor. But before he could wield another blow, Mimi leaped up and slammed him against the window, knocking him completely out of breath.
"Is this what you want?" she hissed as she lifted him up by his shirt collar, his face turning a ghastly shade of red.
"Don't let me destroy you," he sneered.
"Just try, my sweet."
Jack twisted out of her grasp and flipped her over, kicking her down the length of the room. She sprung up with her hands clenched, her nails sharp as claws, and fangs bared. They met halfway in the air, and Jack put a hand on her throat and began to squeeze. But she scratched at his eyes and wrenched her body so that she was rolling on top of him, her sword at his throat, with the upper hand.
SUBMIT. Mimi sent.
NEVER. ~ Melissa De La Cruz