Having To Let Go Quotes

My friend has never been to a picture show, nor does she intend to: "I'd rather hear you tell the story, Buddy. That way I can imagine it more. Besides, a person my age shouldn't squander their eyes. When the Lord comes, let me see him clear." In addition to never having seen a movie, she has never: eaten in a restaurant, traveled more than five miles from home, received or sent a telegram, read anything except funny papers and the Bible, worn cosmetics, cursed, wished someone harm, told a lie on purpose, let a hungry dog go hungry. Here are a few things she has done, does do: killed with a hoe the biggest rattlesnake ever seen in this county (sixteen rattles), dip snuff (secretly), tame hummingbirds (just try it) till they balance on her finger, tell ghost stories (we both believe in ghosts) so tingling they chill you in July, talk to herself, take walks in the rain, grow the prettiest japonicas in town, know the recipe for every sort of oldtime Indian cure, including a magical wart remover. ~ Truman Capote

Stop worrying about whether or not you are exhibiting grace or rightly serving others. I can tell you right now, you are terrible at it. Your grace and your mercy are weak and misinformed and inadequate. Your version of mercy is that you were holding a stone but have been shamed into dropping it. Your life as a Christian will roll along much easier if you will let Jesus stand with you, if you will realize that He loves YOU, that he defends YOU, that He knows you are in the wrong and He still persits with your defense. Then you will know the release of having the defender and lover of your soul give you the life-giving freedom to go your way and sin no more. When you have tasted the incredible rush of having teh One who is just and the justifier of your soul stand stand with you in your defense, when you realize that He will persit in loving your forever, you will rush in your excitement and freedom, to bring others to drink the rich nectar of His perfect love. This is the true Christian life, full of freedom, assurance, and love ~ Jim McNeely III

There didn't seem to be any difference at all between LOSING YOUR MARBLES and HAVING A BREAKDOWN, and whether you called it a BUGHOUSE or a SANNY-TARIUM, there were still bars on the windows and they wouldn't let you out if you wanted to go. ~ Stephen King

Okay, I don't know if any of you have ever lost consciousness before, so let me just say here real quickly: Don't do it.
Really. If you can avoid situations in which you might lose consciousness, please do so. Whatever you do, do not pass out. Trust me. It is not fun. It is not fun at all.
Unless, of course, you're guaranteed to wake up having mouth-to-mouth performed on you by a totally hot California lifeguard. Then I say go for it. ~ Meg Cabot

Nothing more then nothing can be said.
We make our lives by what we love.
Being American, having been trained to be sentimental, I fought for noises … when the war came along, I decided to use only quiet sounds. There seemed to me to be no truth, no good, in anything big.
Somebody asked Debussy how he wrote music. He said: "I take all the tones there are, leave out he one's I don't want, and use all the others". Satie said: "When I was young, people told me; you'll see when you're fifty years old. Now I'm fifty. I've seen nothing".
Slowly as the talk goes on, we are getting nowhere – and that is a pleasure.
It is not irritating to be where one is, it is only irritating to think one would like to be somewhere else.
If anybody is sleepy, let him go to sleep.
All I know about method is that when I'm not working I sometimes think I know something, but when I'm working, it is quit clear I know nothing. ~ John Cage

My hands were paralyzed, one wrapped around the handle of the Hyena's sword, spikes sticking through the flesh and out the back of hand, thumb and fingers, too painful for me to let go of it. The other hand was tangled by the locket and the cord that surrounded the imp's book, fingers bent back out of position. When I moved, it had been a jerky, frustrated movement, the length of the sword, the pain, and the weight of the sword and book all frustrating my attempts to interact with the world.

My arms were cracked open like a hard plastic doll, and all that was within were feathers of mixed, dull colors, sticking to one another. I couldn't move fast enough to catch up to anyone. I was too tired, too gaunt, an old man in a young-looking body, and the objects bound to my hands were too awkward to allow me to open doors easily or even walk through a crowded area without banging them on something.

I couldn't close my eyes, because something black and monstrous slithered beneath the surface every time I did. When I breathed, it was like I was having the heart attack again. The air I spent was air that I couldn't replenish by any means. I was deflating, losing substance.

There was nothing to do but stand there, too tired to move, arms spread like I was crucified, or a bird in mid-flight, staring at Rose and her gathered summonings, with Pauz perched on her shoulder. I somehow knew that words would cost me more of that vital substance than I could affo ~ Wildbow

I started getting Mal's texts just before lunch.
Mal: Awake
Anne: Morning
Mal: Going for a run with Jim
Anne: Have fun!
Mal: Back from run having lunch
...
Mal:Your taste in music sucks
Anne: Thanks
Mal: Seriously, we need to talk it's that bad. Everything apart from Stage Dive needs to go.
Anne: Wait. What are you doing?
Mal:Fixing it.
Anne: Mal, WTH are you doing?
Mal: Making you new playlist wih decent shit. Relay
Anne: K Thanks
Mal: Bored again
Mal: Ben's coming over to play Halo
Anne: Great! But you don't have to tell me everything you do, Mal
Mal: Davie says communication's important
Mal: When are you on the rag? Davie said to find out if you want cupcakes or ice cream
Anne: I want to not talk about this ever
Mal: Bored. Ben's late
Mal: Let's get a dog
Anne: Apartment has no pets rule
Mal: Nice green lace bra
Anne: Get out of my drawers, Mal.
Mal: Matching panties?
Anne: GET OUT NOW.
Mal: :)
Mal: sext me
Mal: Some on it'll be funny
Mal: Plz?
Mal: High level of unhealthy codependency traits exhibited by both parties relationship possibly bordeing on toxic
Anne: WTF?
Mal: Did magazine quiz. We need help- Especially you
Anne:...
Mal: Booking us couples counseling. Tues 4:15 alright?
Anne: We are not going to counseling.
Mal: What's wrong? Don't you love me anymore?
Anne: Turning ph ~ Kylie Scott

Junction nineteen! Una, she came off at Junction nineteen! You've added an hour to your journey before you even started. Come on, let's get you a drink. How's your love life, anyway?"
Oh GOD. Why can't married people understand that this is no longer a polite question to ask? We wouldn't rush up to THEM and roar, "How's your marriage going? Still having sex?" Everyone knows that dating in your thirties is not the happy-go-lucky free-for-it-all it was when you were twenty-two and that the honest answer is more likely to be, "Actually, last night my married lover appeared wearing suspenders and a darling little Angora crop-top, told me he was gay/a sex addict/a narcotic addict/a commitment phobic and beat me up with a dildo," than, "Super, thanks. ~ Helen Fielding

Jesus, who comes across in the Gospels as extraordinarily strong, begged in the garden, with drops of sweat like blood running down his face, that he might be spared the terrible cup ahead of him, the betrayal and abandonment by his friends, death on the cross. Because Jesus cried out in anguish, we may too. But our fear is less frequent and infinitely less if we are close to the Creator. Jesus, having cried out, then let his fear go, and moved on. ~ Madeleine L'Engle

It isn't true about the lambs.
They are not meek.
They are curious and wild,
full of the passion of spring.
They are lovable,
and they are not silent when hungry.

Tonight the last of the triplet lambs
is piercing the quiet with its need.
Its siblings are stronger
and will not let it eat.

I am its keeper, the farmer, its mother.
I will go down to it in the dark,
in the cold barn,
and hold it in my arms.

But it will not lie still--it is not meek.

I will stand in the open doorway
under the weight of watching trees and moon,
and care for it as one of my own.

But it will not love me--it is not meek.

Drink, little one. Take what I can give you.
Tonight the whole world prowls
the perimeters of your life.

Your anger keeps you alive--
it's your only chance.
So I know what I must do
after I have fed you.

I will shape my mouth to the shape
of the sharpest words--
even those bred in silence.

I will impale with words every ear
pressed upon open air.
I will not be meek.

You remind me of the necessity
of having more hope than fear
and of sounding out terrible names.

I am to cry out loud
like a hungry lamb, cry loud
enough to waken wolves in the night.

No one can be allowed to sleep. ~ Alice B. Fogel

I truly don't mind staying in the guest room. I'd hate to make things awkward."
Daddy starts to answer him, but Margot gets there first. "No, it's totally fine," she assures Ravi. "Let's go get the rest of our stuff out of the car."
The second they leave, Kitty and I turn to each other. At the same time we say, "Oh my God."
Kitty ponders, "Why do they need to stay in the same room together? Do they have to have sex that bad?"
"Enough, Kitty," Daddy says, his tone sharper than I've heard him use with her. He turns and leaves, and I hear the sound of his office door closing. His office is where he goes when he is really mad. Ms. Rothschild gives her a stern look and follows after him.
Kitty and I look at each other again. "Yikes," I say.
"He didn't have to snap," Kitty says sullenly. "I'm not the one whose boyfriend is staying in my bed."
"He didn't mean it." I tuck her against me, wrapping my arms around her bony shoulders. "Gogo has a lot of nerve, huh?" She's very impressive, my sister. I just feel sorry for Daddy. This isn't a fight he's used to having--or any kind of fight at all, really.
Of course I text Peter right away and tell all. He sends back a lot of wide-eyed emojis. And: Do you think your dad would let us stay in the same room?? Which I ignore. ~ Jenny Han

He loves me without having to say it. He cherishes me without having to prove it. When he touches me I know what he's thinking, how he truly feels beneath that mask he wears in the face of others. I'm the only soul he's ever let into his life completely. And the only one he'll never let go. ~ J.A. Redmerski

I am nothing--nothing--nothing. She was clinging to that, she found, as to a sort of anchor, because it kept her from having to face the terrible possibility that God Himself was not, and the realization of God's nothingness would be the final horror that could not be borne. Yet as time passed she knew that that possibility, too, must be faced. She must let go of the very last thing left her, the knowledge of her own nothingness, and face it. And she let go, and looked around for God and did not find Him; and then there was nothing, except the dark night.
But there was the dark night. Very slowly she became conscious of it, and then she found that she was hugging it to her, wrapping herself in it as though it were a cloak to hide her in this hour of her humiliation. For a long while the night was all that she had, and then suddenly, like a sword stabbing the darkness, came a trill of music. It was a bird welcoming the dawn. That, too, was added. She drew back one of the curtains of her bed and saw a patch of grey light where the window was. That also. During the hours of the night she had been completely stripped, and now one by one a few things were being handed to her for the clothing of her naked, shivering, humiliated soul. For a few things one must have to make one decent if one was to step forth again upon the highway. For that, obviously, impossible though the task seemed to her at this moment, was what she had to do as soon as the full day came, because there was ~ Elizabeth Goudge

There will be resistance to feelings in general. To let feelings come up, it is easier to let go of the reaction to having the feelings in the first place. A fear of fear itself is a prime example of this. Let go of the fear or guilt that you have about the feeling first, and then get into the feeling itself. When letting go, ignore all thoughts. Focus on the feeling itself, not on the thoughts. Thoughts are endless and self-reinforcing, and they only breed more thoughts. Thoughts are merely rationalizations of the mind to try and explain the presence of the feeling. The real reason for the feeling is the accumulated pressure behind the feeling that is forcing it to come up in the moment. The thoughts or external events are only an excuse made up by the mind. ~ David R. Hawkins

Ethan's voice was choked. "I realize now, what my father felt. When I left home. He must have felt as if everything was ending. That everything he knew was finishing. I wasn't even aware of what he was going through, how it felt for him. I was so caught up in the excitement of moving out and having a job that would buy me a car. I was so eager to leave. His heart was breaking, and I totally missed it. I was completely unaware that his whole world was changing too. But for him it wasn't gaining, it was losing. He was losing part of himself. The part of his life that had focused on me and my mother for seventeen years was ending, and I never even noticed."

For a moment, Leo thought Ethan was about to ask him to stay. If he does, I will, Leo thought.

Ethan took a deep breath. "But hard as it is. It can't be stopped. Can't be sidestepped. No matter how much we want to or how fearful the future looks, we can't stay frozen in place. You can go forward or you can try to hold on. I've seen people that were afraid to let go, that never committed to their life. You can feel the desperate regret emanate from them. They know they missed something, but instead of jumping on the next train, they keep looking back for the one they missed. ~ Tom Deaderick

I do not know what I am saying, puppy. Change frightens me. My anxiety and depression… these things are easier to control when I feel safe and secure. But I like having you around. I hope you decide to move in with us, even though I am crazy."
Hans laughed and gave him an affectionate smile. "I don't think your therapist would like you talking like that."
"No. Thomas does not like it either."
"I don't think I'm going anywhere," Hans said. "We can talk about it tomorrow."
"Good." Boris smiled, let go of his hand, and stood. "Oh, yes. Thomas tells me he kisses you now. This is good. I have no problem with it, so do not feel you have to make sure I am out of the room or anything stupid like that."
"You can kiss me too, if you want."
"I was hoping you would say that," Boris said, grinning. "I do want. But I have been sleeping all day, and I have really bad breath. May I kiss you tomorrow?"
"You may." Hans had already figured out Boris had bad breath. He might have been willing to overlook it, but considering how tentative things were between them, it was probably better to wait.
"I am looking forward to it. Goodnight, puppy." Boris slipped from the room but stopped halfway out the door.
Hans heard Thomas's voice, though it was too quiet for him to make out what he was saying. Boris said something in response, and this time Hans could tell it was in Russian. ~ Jamie Fessenden

I love you," he said. It came out in a rush, as if he couldn't wait to get it out. "I love you and Jesus, you scare me. Having to give you up was the hardest thing I've ever done, Claire; I can't do it again. Please tell me - please tell me that you're coming back for good. Or at least, if you leave, let me go with you." - Shane, Fall of night ~ Rachel Caine

No more running away. I told you I'm not letting you go, so you need to get used to having me in your life. Every day. No more space."
"I am not ready…"
"Get ready," I said. "I thought about you every day for nine years, wondered what you were doing. I had questions I wanted to ask but couldn't. Those nine years are on me. It was my mistake to walk away from you but I'm not doing it again. And I won't let you do it either. All I'm asking for is time. I'll prove to you that you can trust me again. ~ Devney Perry

Forgive yourself first. Let go of past hurts and direct your spirit to goodness and hope by having gratitude. ~ Janet Taylor Spence

Tiger Lily made an attempt at a smile. After having felt the need to glower at other children for most of her life, smiles never came easily to her face. But this one was half all right.
"I miss you already," he said.
Tiger Lily wanted to say it back. But she held on to the words greedily, too caught in the habit of keeping herself a secret.
And Peter-half sadly, half-expectantly-let her go. ~ Jodi Lynn Anderson

Because just before I arrived, he showed up on the bus. He, meaning Damien.
He reminded me of the pain I'd felt when he died. He reminded me of what it's like to feel your heart explode in your chest cavity at the realization of living your life without the only person you've ever loved. And he reminded me of the promise I'd made to him months ago. I told him that I'd love him forever.
That I'd never let go.
But part of me wants to let go.
Deep down inside I know that I can't go on loving a ghost forever. I tell myself this every day. Then I see him and I forget about having those thoughts. Because when I do see him, he looks like the Damien I met on that humid summer day, who was smirking at me, and driving his candy apple red Cadillac in reverse. When I see him he looks so vivid.
So full of life.
Not so ... so ...
So dead. ~ Lauren Hammond

Having to be strong and act hard when I knew I was anything but was exhausting, and I wanted more than anything to let go, even if it was just for a little bit. ~ O.E. Boroni

You can't let him get away with this!" Penny shrieked.
Caine wasn't having it. "You stupid witch," he yelled back. "No one told you to let it go that far!"
"He was mine for the day," Penny hissed. She pressed a rag to her nose, which had started bleeding again.
"He tore his own eyes out. What did you think Quinn would do? What do you think Albert will do now?" He bit savagely at his thumb, a nervous habit.
"I thought you were the king!"
Caine reacted without thinking. He swung a hard backhand at her face. The blow did not connect, but the thought did. Penny flew backward like she'd been hit by a bus. She smacked hard against the wall of the office.
The blow stunned her, and Caine was in her face before she could clear her thoughts.
Turk came bursting in, his gun leveled. "What's happening?"
"Penny tripped," Caine said.
Penny's freckled face was white with fury.
"Don't," Caine warned. He tightened an invisible grip around her head and twisted it back at an impossible angle.
Then Caine released her.
Penny panted and glared. But no nightmare seized Caine's mind. "You'd better hope Lana can fix that boy, Penny."
"You're getting soft." Penny choked out the words.
"Being king isn't about being a sick creep," Caine said. "People need someone in charge. People are sheep and they need a big sheepdog telling them what to do and where to go. But it doesn't work if you start killing the sheep."
"You're scared of ~ Michael Grant

In terms of having a business, I wanted to let it go beyond what my personal taste is. Basically, I'm in a kilt and a white shirt every day. So, you know, I don't have a lot of scope, and I'm really picky about what I wear. ~ Marc Jacobs

I've gotta go," I say, scowling at my phone.
"Now?" Ryder asks, tipping my chin up with one hand so that our eyes meet.
"Unfortunately. It's my mom. Lucy and Morgan are covering for me, but I've got to get back. I'm supposed to be at the drugstore."
"What are we going to tell them? Our moms, I mean?"
I shake my head. "We can't tell them anything. At least, not yet. Can you imagine the pressure they'd put on us if they knew? I mean, they already drive us nuts and they think we hate each other."
"You're right. So…we keep it a secret?"
"Not exactly. I've got to tell Lucy and Morgan. Just…not our parents, okay? Besides, think how fun it will be, sneaking around."
His eyes light with mischief. "Good point."
"Don't go getting any naughty ideas," I tease. "C'mon, walk me to my car."
He takes my hand and falls into step beside me, glancing down at me with a wicked grin.
"What?" I ask.
"Hey, you're the one who brought up 'naughty,' not me."
I poke him playfully in the ribs.
"I've got an idea," he says. "Let's pretend we've got to do a school project together. You know, say that we've been paired up against our will. We can make a big fuss about it--complain about having to spend so much time together."
"While we secretly do lots of naughty things?" I offer.
He nods. "Exactly."
I shiver, imagining the possibilities. Suddenly, I'm looking forward to those Sunday dinners at Magnolia Landing. And to Christmas ~ Kristi Cook

Of course I want you," she said right in his ear. "I love you." He let loose some kind of hoarse word, and his arms crushed her to him. As she found herself not being able to breathe because he was squeezing her so tight, she thought, Yup, this really was him. And he wasn't going to let her go this time. Thank. God. As he held Jane up off the ground, Vishous was wholly happy. Complete in a way that having all your fingers and toes couldn't hold a candle to. With a shout of triumph, he carried her into her condo, pausing only to put the garage door down. ~ J.R. Ward

I heard - " I began.
"I let you hear," he cut me off.
I shut my mouth, closed the door, and leaned back against it. The corners of his lips turned up as if at some private amusement, and for a moment I thought we were having one of those silent conversations.
You think it's safe to close yourself in with the Beast?
If you think I'm afraid of you, you're wrong.
You should be afraid.
Maybe you should be afraid of me. Go ahead, piss me off, Barrons. See what happens.
Little girl thinks she's all grown up now.
His mouth moved into a smile that I've grown familiar with over the past few months, shaped of competing tensions: part mockery, part pissed off, and part turned on. Men are so complicated. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Dear Francesca, tell me, is this a succesful party, in your view? Is this the best we can do? I know that you have always wanted to meet Kong; now that you have met him and he has said whatever he has said to you (I saw you smiling), can we go home? I mean you to your home, me to my home, all these others to their own homes, cells, cages? I am feeling a little ragged. What made us think that we could escape things like bankruptcy, alcoholism, being dissapointed, having children? Say 'No,' refuse me once and for all, let me try something else. Of course we did everything right, insofar as we were able to imagine what 'right' was. Is it really important to know that this movie is fine, and that one terrible, and to talk intelligently about the difference? Wonderful elegance! No good at all! ~ Donald Barthelme

I know I was a businessman for years, and I stayed up countless nights worrying about having to let one person go. It's a terrible thing to do. ~ Jim DeMint

Sometimes I want to scream at him, Just let me go. Let me go. Let me breathe. So I can't sleep, and I'm angry. I feel as though we're having fight already, even though the fight's only in my imagination. And in my head, thoughts go round and round and round. And I feel like I'm suffocating. ~ Paula Hawkins

Believe in Your Ability to Cope with Negative Feedback

Just like everyone has a vision blind spot, everyone has cognitive blond spots that can lead to making less than stellar choices. For example, you think an outfit looks good on you, and in reality it doesn't. Or you thought you understood what your boss wanted but later realize you took the instructions in an unintended direction. Since we all have blind spots, making some mistakes and getting some negative feedback is unavoidable. Therefore, unless you plan to go live in a cave, you're going to need a game plan for how you'll cognitively and emotionally cope when negative feedback happens. We'll cover behavioral strategies later in the chapter, but let's work on the thinking and emotional aspects for now.
Experiment: Think about a specific scenario in which you fear negative feedback. If your fears came true:

--How would you go about making the required changes?
--How could you be self-accepting of your sensitivity to criticism? How could you talk to yourself gently about the emotions you're feeling instead of criticizing yourself for feeling upset? How could you be patient with yourself while you're having those feelings?
--What self-care would you do while you wait for your heart and upset feelings to pass? (Yes, rewatching episodes of '90s TV is a totally acceptable answer.)
--What personal support would you access to cope with your emotions? For example, you'd talk to a frie ~ Alice Boyes

Here I am, your one man circus freak show, having bled out for mother Russia, having desperately tried to get to you, now on top of you with this scourge marks, and you, who used to love me, who was sympathized, internalized, normalized everything, you are not allowed to turn away from me ... this is what I am going to look like until the day I die. I can't get any peace from you ever unless you find away to make peace with this. Make peace with me. Or let me go for good. ~ Paullina Simons

I thought you had to go to The Hall?" she said.
"To learn?" Dar looked genuinely surprised. "No, Kale, Wulder is everywhere, therefore His lessons are everywhere."
"I know Wulder made all things, and Pretender tried to copy His work. But I didn't know Wulder is everywhere. How could that be?"
"You're thinking of Wulder as having a body and moving from place to place." Dar stood and pivoted in a circle with his arms outstretched. "Wulder is everywhere. You can see His power by recognizing His work. When a flower opens, that's His work. When the stars twinkle at night, that's His work."
He paused, facing her. He let his arms fall to his sides. "Look at me, Kale. Right now, I am standing with Wulder all around me. I'm under His protection, within His will, standing on His pledge. And Wulder is, at the very same moment, in me."
"Me, too?" asked Kale.
"Yes." Dar knelt in front of her, his earnest face only inches away.
She looked into his dark brown eyes and saw strength and peace. She wondered at his patience with her. Often her marione masters gruffly explained things they thought she should already understand.
Dar winked before he continued, his funny face serious and yet cheerful at imparting what must be old knowledge to him. "So many people don't know who Wulder is or what He's capable of doing. Their ignorance doesn't make Wulder less of a being; it makes them less. Until they know, they can't be whole."
He leaned back and sighe ~ Donita K. Paul

For most people, having company for more than three of four days is a serious mistake, the equivalent to sawing a large hole in the roof and leaving all the doors and windows open in the middle of winter. Out of a desire to be helpful or the need to be kind, they let themselves in for prolonged spells of entertaining, forfeit their privacy and their easy understanding, knowing that the result will be an estrangement―however temporary―between husband and wife, and that nothing proportionate to this is to be gained by the giving up of beds, the endless succession of heavy meals, the afternoon drives. Either the human race is incurably hospitable or else people forget from one time to the next, as women forget the pains of labor, how weeks and months are lost that can never be recovered.
The guest also loses―even the so-called easy guest who makes her own bed, helps with the dishes and doesn't require entertaining. She sees things no outsider should see, overhears whispered conversations about herself from two rooms away, finds old letters in books, and is sooner or later the cause of and witness to scenes that because of her presence do not clear the air. When she has left, she expects to go on being a part of the family she has stayed with so happily and for so long; she expects to be remembered; instead of which, her letters, full of intimate references and family jokes, go unanswered. She sends beautiful presents to the children at a time when she really cannot afford a ~ William Maxwell

"Hope, you see, Wal'r," said the Captain, sagely, "Hope. It's that as animates you. Hope is a buoy, for which you overhaul your Little Warbler, sentimental diwision, but Lord, my lad, like any other buoy, it only floats; it can't be steered nowhere. Along with the figure-head of Hope,' said the Captain, 'there's a anchor; but what's the good of my having a anchor, if I can't find no bottom to let it go in?" ~ Charles Dickens

He let go of her hand, and she got up to grab her phone. He watched her every move, cataloging the way she still favored her right ankle and the way her ass wiggled in her jeans.


A smile teased the corner of his mouth. He'd spent many hours rebuilding the theater, and the times she'd been there, he'd never noticed her hips having such a sexy sway. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was toying with him.


She came back to him with her phone in hand. "Ready?"


Oh hell yeah, he was ready. ~ Lisa Kessler

Zane walked over to the bookshelf and picked up a tin container with pencils in it. He rattled the pencils around in a circle, then reached into the tin to pull out a piece of chalk. Then he drew a circle on the wood floor around the chair Mary sat in.
"What are you doing?"
"At the end of my dream, I was very old. And I shed my skin. And I became something frightening that wasn't like me at all. If I come back, and I've turned into a monster, then you'll be safe from me in there."
"Oh, I don't like this." She felt a little punchy, a little giggly. "And then you're going off to the bathroom to pee? You're going to have to hold it." She held onto his hand. It was like her dad's hand, maybe even a bit older. The skin was soft, and thinner than her father's.
"No, really, I have to go." He pulled his hand.
She didn't let go. She giggled. "I'm not going to let you go. Not after you just said that to me."
Her giggling was a bit infectious. And he got the bug. He laughed. "But I have to go."
"Well, you shouldn't have said that first. 'I might turn into a horrible monster of which you should be so afraid that you'll remain in a chalk . . .'" She giggle-snorted. "'Chalk ring.' How's that going to help me?" She giggled again. "I'm having too much fun, Zane; I'm not going to let this turn into some horrible nightmare, because then I'm going to make myself wake up and I might never see you again."
They stared and stared at each other, the grins fro ~ James T. Riley

Letting go isn't about having the courage to release the past; it's about having the wisdom to embrace the present. ~ Steve Maraboli

With grades like hers, she ought to go there.' 'So that's where I ended up. Six years I went and I never liked it. All I could think of was getting out. And you know, I've got certificates of merit for never having ben late or missed a day of school. That's how much I hated the place. Get it?'
'No, I don't get it.'
'It's cause I hated the place so much. I wasn't going to let it beat me. ~ Haruki Murakami

They want to hold a seance and go dressed as bunnies."
"What kind of bunnies?" he asked suspiciously.
"Playboy, I think. Whatever that means."
"That sounds about right." Xavier laughed. "But don't let them talk you into anything you don't feel comfortable with."
"They're my friends."
"So what?" He shrugged. "If your friends walked off a cliff, would you do it too?"
"Why would they walk off a cliff?" I asked in alarm. "Is someone having problems at home?"
Xavier laughed. "It's just an expression."
"It's silly," I told him. "Do you think I should go as an angel? Like in the film version of Romeo and Juliet?"
"There would be a certain irony in that," Xavier said, smirking. "An angel posing as a human posing as an angel.
I like it. ~ Alexandra Adornetto

When I finally learned to let go of having to totally control everything around me and let my life unfold, I was stunned by the results. How could I have ever thought I could outsmart the Universe? ~ Geri Larkin

Where's Mason?"
"Planting explosives."
Zinio did a double take. "You actually handed that man explosives?"
"Damn it, Zinio. Let other people have some fun."
The explosion in the distance was followed by Mason yelling, "Yahoo!"
Zinio and Delaney stared speechless as Mason flew by in the adjoining tunnel, riding the concussion wave of the blast.
Finally, Zinio stomped after him.
He peeled him off the floor in the adjoining tunnel. "You having fun yet?"
"Hell yeah!"
"Wanna go again?"
"Hell yeah I wanta go again!"
A short while later, Zinio watched Mason fly by on a concussion wave from the latest explosion, as Mason shouted, "Hot Diggity!"
Zinio made his way over to the somewhat more charcoaled Mason. "You had enough yet?"
Mason nodded shakily.
"Good - because it'd be nice if we actually put a hole in the fricking wall! That is the object of this little exercise. ~ Dean C. Moore

Where the bloody hell is my wife?" Godric yelled into the aether.
As if in response, a footman came up the stairs and handed Cedric a slip of paper. Dumbfounded, Cedric opened it and read it aloud.

My Dear Gentlemen,
We await you in the dining room. Please do not join us until you have decided upon a course of action regarding the threat to Lord Sheridan. We will be more than delighted to offer our opinions on the matter, but in truth, we suspect you do not wish to hear our thoughts. It is a failing of the male species, and we shan't hold it against you. In the future, however, it would be advisable not to lock us in a room. We simply cannot resist a challenge, something you should have learned by now. Intelligent women are not to be trifled with.
Fondest Regards,
~ The Society of Rebellious Ladies ~

"Fondest regards?" Lucien scoffed.
A puzzled Jonathan added, "Society of Rebellious Ladies?"
"Lord help us!" Ashton groaned as he ran a hand through his hair. "They've named themselves."
"I'll wager a hundred pounds that Emily's behind this. Having a laugh at our expense," Charles said in all seriousness.
"Let's go and see how rebellious they are when we're done with them." Cedric rolled up the sleeves of his white lawn shirt as he and the others stalked down the stairs to the dining room. They found it empty. The footman reappeared and Cedric wondered if perhaps the man had never left. At the servant's polit ~ Lauren Smith

I think with relationships you have to risk getting hurt. You have to learn to almost know how to let your heart go when that time comes for that right person. You have to be open to having a friendship with somebody of the opposite sex. We can't let fear keep us from being open to relationships. ~ Rebecca St. James

Sometimes we scratch, claw and climb so hard to conquer a mountain that, once achieved, we cling to its summit much too long and it ultimately instigates our fall. As we dangle by our fingertips we grasp and claw at what's no more; with a fear of falling into the dim unknown. But, ironically, it's in that very moment that we are empowered to choose. We can stay cliff hanging in our darkened fears clinging to a time that has past us by or we can faithfully and freely fall into the hands of a new destiny. Sometimes, persevering...is simply having the courage to let go. ~Jason Versey ~ Jason Versey

I'm thinking about fucking your mouth, to be exact."
"Of course you are," she said drily. "You're a boy. Boys are delusional."
He smiled. "You're not going to let me feel what it's like to slide my cock in your mouth? That doesn't seem fair. I go down on you all the time."
"Oh, I won't deny you eat pussy like a champ."
He laughed. "Like a champ?"
"Totally. But you know, over seventy percent of erectile dysfunction cases are caused by having too many blow jobs."
"They are not."
"They could be. ~ Suzanne Wright

In Tantrism, the first thing is having the experience of touch, of profound contact with things, with the universe, without mental commotion. Everything begins there: touching the universe deeply. When you touch deeply, you no longer need to let go. That occurs naturally. ~ Daniel Odier

Now you're concerned with the laws? I didn't realize you could pick and choose which ones to follow, Jagen. That sounds pretty convenient, huh?" She earns a few nods of approval from their audience, not the least of which comes from King Antonis. He watches her intensely, pride stuck on his face like squid ink. Galen knows the feeling.
Emma pauses, and her whole demeanor changes from huntress to mother as she looks to the accumulation of fish above her. "Those who need air may surface. Come back when you're done. Young ones go first."
Emma turns her attention back to the Syrena. "I possess the Gift of Poseidon. Look around you and deny it."
Jagen's nostrils flare. "Do not let yourselves be charmed by this Half-Breed, as Poseidon did so long ago. That's why Triton ordered all Half-Breeds killed in the first place, is it not? And now you would allow her to defile the sanctity of our Arena with her lies of having the sacred Gift of Poseidon?"
Rayna pushes through the audience, and to Galen's dismay she's holding Toraf's hand. She propels them both into the center. Toraf and Galen exchange nods, but Galen feels as though icicles run through his veins. Emma shouldn't be here. And she's here because of him.
"I, for one, do not believe she has the Gift of Poseidon," Rayna says gleefully. "If you have the Gift of Poseidon, make those hammerheads attack Jagen where he stands."
Galen pinches the bridge of his nose. Toraf smirks at him, but Galen will not r ~ Anna Banks

Let children alone ... the education of habit is successful in so far as it enables the mother to let her children alone, not teasing them with perpetual commands and directions - a running fire of Do and Don't ; but letting them go their own way and grow, having first secured that they will go the right way and grow to fruitful purpose. ~ Charlotte M. Mason

Oh, fuck no, he thought, unable to believe just how badly he'd fucked up even as he pulled the small woman that annoyed the living shit out of him closer to him, unable to help himself.

Christ, she felt so fucking good, he couldn't help but notice as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to savor the peace that having her in his arms brought him. This was so wrong, so fucking wrong, but he couldn't help himself. He'd never in his life felt anything so good and for a minute, he didn't give a damn that it was the annoying little neighbor that made his life a living hell that made him feel like this. He needed this, needed her and God help him, but he never wanted to let her go. ~ R.L. Mathewson

Let's suppose that you want to say, "I am a jerk." IN the 18th century, you would have to go around person to person and utter the phrase individually to each one of them. However, here in the third millennium, with our advances in telephone communication, it is possible to say "I am a jerk" to a thousand people at a time by forgetting to turn off your cell phone and having it ring during a performance of Death of a Salesman. ~ Steve Martin

Trappings and charm wear off, I've learned. The book of welcome says, Let people see you. They see that your upper arms are beautiful, soft and clean and warm, and then they will see this about their own, some of the time. It's called having friends, choosing each other, getting found, being fished out of the rubble. It blows you away, how this wonderful event happened - me in your life, you in mine. Two parts fit together. This hadn't occurred all that often, but now that it does, it's the wildest experience. It could almost make a believer out of you. Of course, life will randomly go to hell every so often, too. Cold winds arrive and prick you; the rain falls down your neck; darkness comes. But now there are two of you. Holy Moly. ~ Anne Lamott

It's challenging as an actor to let go but I had some pleasure out of it too. To not have the effort of having to present myself is quite liberating. ~ Juliette Binoche

That grip tightened again but this time he started rubbing his first two fingers against her neck in a soft little rhythm. The action was almost erotic. Or maybe that was just the effect he was having on her. She could feel his gentle stroking all the way to the pulsing point between her legs. Maybe she had mental issues that this man was turning her on.

He leaned closer, skimming his mouth against her jawline and she froze. Just completely, utterly froze. "Are you meeting Tasev?" he whispered.

She'd told herself to be prepared for this question, to keep her reaction under wraps, but he came to his own conclusion if his savage curse was anything to go by. Damn it, Wesley was going to be pissed at her, but Levi had been right. She had operational latitude right now and she needed to keep Levi close. They needed to know what he knew and what he was planning. Trying to shut him out now, when he was at the party specifically to meet the German, would be stupid. Levi had stayed off their radar for two years because he was good. Of course Wesley hadn't exactly sent out a worldwide manhunt for him either. About a year ago he'd decided to more or less let him go.

Now . . . "I met with the German earlier tonight. He squeezed me in before some of his other meetings."

Levi snorted, his gaze dipping to her lips once more, that hungry look in place again. It was so raw and in her face it was hard to ignore that kind of desire and what it was doi ~ Katie Reus

There's our homecoming picture. Last Halloween, when I dressed up as Mulan and Peter wore a dragon costume. There's a receipt from Tart and Tangy. One of his notes to me, from before. If you make Josh's dumb white-chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it's over. Pictures of us from Senior Week. Prom. Dried rose petals from my corsage. The Sixteen Candles picture.
There are some things I didn't include, like the ticket stub from our first real date, the note he wrote me that said, I like you in blue. Those things are tucked away in my hatbox. I'll never let those go.
But the really special thing I've included is my letter, the one I wrote to him so long ago, the one that brought us together. I wanted to keep it, but something felt right about Peter having it. One day all of this will be proof, proof that we were here, proof that we loved each other. It's the guarantee that no matter what happens to us in the future, this time was ours.
When he gets to that page, Peter stops. "I thought you wanted to keep this," he said.
"I wanted to, but then I felt like you should have it. Just promise you'll keep it forever."
He turns the page. It's a picture from when we took my grandma to karaoke. I sang "You're So Vain" and dedicated it to Peter. Peter got up and sang "Style" by Taylor Swift. Then he dueted "Unchained Melody" with my grandma, and after, she made us both promise to take a Korean language class at UVA. She and Peter took a ton of se ~ Jenny Han

A Sag Harbor ship visited his father's bay, and Queequeg sought a passage to Christian lands. But the ship, having her full complement of seamen, spurned his suit; and not all the King his father's influence could prevail. But Queequeg vowed a vow. Alone in his canoe, he paddled off to a distant strait, which he knew the ship must pass through when she quitted the island. On one side was a coral reef; on the other a low tongue of land, covered with mangrove thickets that grew out into the water. Hiding his canoe, still afloat, among these thickets, with its prow seaward, he sat down in the stern, paddle low in hand; and when the ship was gliding by, like a flash he darted out; gained her side; with one backward dash of his foot capsized and sank his canoe; climbed up the chains; and throwing himself at full length upon the deck, grappled a ring-bolt there, and swore not to let it go, though hacked in pieces. ~ Herman Melville

And with a relentlessness that comes from the world's depths, with a persistence that strikes the keys metaphysically, the scales of a piano student keep playing over and over, up and down the physical backbone of my memory. It's the old streets with other people, the same streets that today are different; it's dead people speaking to me through the transparency of their absence; it's remorse for what I did or didn't do; it's the rippling of streams in the night, noises from below in the quiet building.

I feel like screaming inside my head. I want to stop, to break, to smash this impossible phonograph record that keeps playing inside me, where it doesn't belong, an intangible torturer. I want my soul, a vehicle taken over by others, to let me off and go on without me. I'm going crazy from having to hear. And in the end it is I – in my odiously impressionable brain, in my thin skin, in my hypersensitive nerves – who am the keys played in scales, O horrible and personal piano of our memory. ~ Fernando Pessoa

I can imagine nothing more wonderful than always wanting to keep a man ... It's this NOT wanting to keep them, and yet not quite being able to disentangle one's self, never quite having the ruthlessness to stike at the hands on the gunwale with an oar until they let go
that's the horrible thing. ~ Rose Wilder Lane

Remember that a little learning can be a pleasant thing. Italy gives much, in beauty, gaiety, diversity of arts and landscapes, good humor and energy - willingly, without having to be coaxed or courted. Paradoxically, she requires (as do other countries, probably more so) and deserves some preparation as background to enhance her pleasures. It is almost impossible to read a total history of Italy; there was no united country until a hundred years ago, no single line of power, no concerted developments. It is useful, however, to know something about what made Siena run and stop, to become acquainted with the Estes and the Gonzagas, the Medicis and the Borgias, the names that were the local history. It helps to know something about the conflicts of the medieval church with the Holy Roman Empire, of the French, Spanish and early German kings who marked out large chunks of Italy for themselves or were invited to invade by a nervous Italian power. Above all, it helps to turn the pages of a few art and architecture books to become reacquainted with names other those of the luminous giants.

The informed visitors will not allow himself to be cowed by the deluge of art. See what interests or attracts you; there is no Italian Secret Service that reports on whether you have seen everything. If you try to see it all except as a possible professional task, you may come to resist it all. Relax, know what you like and don't like - not the worst of measures - and let the rest go. ~ Kate Simon

What about the backyard stuff?" he asked.
"What about it?"
"Is it okay if I use it, too?"
"Oh, sure. The equipment is in a metal shed in the back. Just help yourself. It's not locked or anything. And if you want company, just let me know. I'd be happy to play with you."
Did I just say that? I did not just say that. Like we were six years old and heading for a sandbox.
He was grinning again, like he thought it was funny or stupid or I was having a Tiffany moment.
"I didn't mean play with you exactly," I said. "I meant…you know, keep you company so you don't feel awkward…you know, like I exercised with you."
"I'll be okay alone in the backyard." He stepped off the treadmill. "I'm going to go shower."
He waited a heartbeat, like he expected me to say I'd be happy to keep him company in the shower, too.
Fortunately, my brain finally kicked in, and I kept my mouth shut.
I watched him walk out of the room. I thought I'd known everything that would be involved in having a baseball player living with us for the summer.
I was discovering that I didn't have a clue. ~ Rachel Hawthorne

I figure I just keep working and let the chips fall where they may, and if that means I end up having an eclectic career, so be it. For me to try to manipulate things or for me to try to tell people or the system how it should be ... I'm just a kind of a more go-with-the-flow guy when it comes to my acting career. ~ Clint Howard

People are lying all the time as to what a murderous nation we are. So let it be known. We're behaving abominably. It's like having a relative go absolutely nuts. Somebody has to say, "I think Uncle Charlie's off his rocker." We are behaving in a bizarre manner. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

I was having dinner…in London…when eventually he got, as the Europeans always do, to the part about "Your country's never been invaded." And so I said, "Let me tell you who those bad guys are. They're us. WE BE BAD. We're the baddest-assed sons of bitches that ever jogged in Reeboks. We're three-quarters grizzly bear and two-thirds car wreck and descended from a stock market crash on our mother's side. You take your Germany, France, and Spain, roll them all together and it wouldn't give us room to park our cars. We're the big boys, Jack, the original, giant, economy-sized, new and improved butt kickers of all time. When we snort coke in Houston, people lose their hats in Cap d'Antibes. And we've got an American Express card credit limit higher than your piss-ant metric numbers go. You say our country's never been invaded? You're right, little buddy. Because I'd like to see the needle-dicked foreigners who'd have the guts to try. We drink napalm to get our hearts started in the morning. A rape and a mugging is our way of saying 'Cheerio.' Hell can't hold our sock-hops.
We walk taller, talk louder, spit further, fuck longer and buy more things than you know the names of. I'd rather be a junkie in a New York City jail than king, queen, and jack of all Europeans. We eat little countries like this for breakfast and shit them out before lunch. ~ P.J. O'Rourke

You bastard!" Before she could stop herself, Kat slapped his cheek as hard as she could. Deep caught her hand before she could pull it back. "Very nice, little Kat." Slowly, he drew the two fingers she'd used to touch herself between his lips, sucking and licking gently as though trying to get every last trace of her juices. Kat felt her heart skip a beat and then start to pound crazily against her ribs. Like it or not, she had to admit that the feel of his warm mouth on her flesh and the hot way he was looking at her was having an effect on her overheated body. "St-stop it," she stuttered, trying to pull away. "Let me go." "For now." He released her hand and began shrugging back into his shirt. "But you'll pay for that little love tap, my lady. I promise you that." Kat ~ Evangeline Anderson

Don't concentrate on your mistakes and failures, concentrate instead on the benefits of all your experiences. Let go of the negativity in your life and keep moving forward! Having a positive attitude can get you through anything! Love others, be of service to your community, and most importantly, love yourself! ~ Arik Hoover

My God, are you even real?" she whispered. Holding her gaze, a sad smile lifted his mouth. "I think I am." "You make me feel like I'm in a dream," Emily confessed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Like I'm sleepwalking and I don't even know it." ... "I'm able to close my eyes and just ... trust you. You're the color on my blank canvas, the light in my dark, the air in my lungs, and I almost let you go. I almost erased us from ever happening. I can't imagine not having you here with me. Please tell me you know how much I love you, Gavin. I need to hear it right now. Please. ~ Gail McHugh

I think of this feeling sometimes -- and I can imagine that sort of letting go: warm, dangerous, seductive. What if this is what death is: The engine beneath you steady; those that hold you strong; the sun warm?

I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad to fall into that, to loosen the grip at the waist, let gravity and fate take over -- like a thought so good you can't stop having it. ~ Nina Riggs

Where do I belong?"
"With me," my mother and Galen say in unison. They exchange hard glares. Galen locks his jaw.
"I'm her mother," she tells Galen, her voice sharp. "Her place is with me."
"I want her for my mate," Galen says. The admission warms up the space between us with an impossible heat and I want to melt into him. His words, his declaration, cannot be unspoken. And how he's declared it to everyone who matters. It's out there in the open, hanging in the air. He wants me for his mate. Me. Him. Forever. And I'm not sure how I feel about that. How I should feel about that.
I've known for some time that he wanted that eventually, but how soon? Before we graduate? Before I go to college? What does it mean to mate with him? He's a Triton prince. His place is with the Syrena, in the ocean. And let's not forget that my place with them is dead-no Half-Breeds allowed. We have so much to talk about before this can even happen, but I feel saying so might make him feel rejected, or embarrass him in front of his older brother, the great Triton king. Or like I'm having second thoughts, and I'm not. Not exactly.
I peer up at him, wanting to see his eyes, to see the promise in them that I heard in his voice.
But he won't look at me. He's not looking at Mom, either. He keeps his iron glare on Grom, unyielding and demanding. But Grom doesn't wither under the weight of it. In fact, he deflects it with an indifferent expression. They are definitely engaging i ~ Anna Banks

We're workers, they say. Work, they call it! That's the crummiest part of the whole business. We're down in the hold, heaving and panting, stinking and sweating our balls off, and meanwhile! Up on deck in the fresh air, what do you see?! Our masters having a fine time with beautiful pink and perfumed women on their laps. They send for us, we're brought up on deck. They put on their top hats and give us a big spiel like as follows: "You no-good swine! We're at war! Those stinkers in Country No. 2! We're going to board them and cut their livers out! Let's go! Let's go! We've got everything we need on board! All together now! Let's hear you shout so the deck trembles: 'Long live Country No. 1!' So you'll be heard for miles around. The man that shouts the loudest will get a medal and a lollipop! Let's ~ Louis Ferdinand Celine

It will relax her, make her pliable. Women love having their feet rubbed."
"Most women beg me to rub somewhere other than their feet."
"They like their toes nibbled," Aiden said. "And suckled."
"Rub feet, suckle toes. Got it."
"Do it slowly, the strokes steady. Then move up her legs. Use her muscles as a guide. Not hard strokes - you want to soothe, not press."
"How long before I can massage her pussy?"
"Gods, level threes are impatient. The trick is to go slowly. By the time you've reached her ass, she's sighing with pleasure, but you don't stop there. You do her entire back and arms while she's longing for you to get to her pussy. Make her wait."
"Now that I can get into. Holding back, making her beg."
He saw Nella again, squirming on the sheets, her red hair tangled on the pillow, her hips lifting toward him. Please, Rio, she'd say.
Not yet, baby, he'd respond. I want you good and wet before I get there.
She'd whimper with disappointment, then he'd lift his strap and smack her sweet little backside.
Rio sighed and made the image dissolve. "Massage. Slowly. I'm not sure my programming will let me."
"Like this." Aiden moved his ale glass and pressed his hand to the table, thumb and last two fingers on the surface, the other two fingers held loosely. "Glide across her skin, pressing a little. Long strokes, following the curve of her leg." He moved his hand across the table, slowly and sensually, his ow ~ Allyson James

Aside from the possible scientific explanations for the death of ballsiness, there is an economic one, which I think may be the real cause: high rents. It's very hard to be a ballsy writer when you can't afford to live anywhere. It makes you absolutely nervous and insane and takes all yours guts away. I have to say this is the case for yours truly. If I could pay a 1954 rent of fifty-eight dollars a month, I might actually be a ballsy writer. But I'm so crippled by my enormous twenty-first century rent that I can barely get out of bed, let alone raise hell, which is what you need to do to qualify as a ballsy writer. You have to be a hell-raiser. You have to care about political things and you have to be able to afford booze, not to mention days lost to hangovers. But if you're worried all the time about having to go live with your parents as a thirty-seven-year-old, then to hell with hell. You only have one goal: to come up with the rent. You don't have time for political causes or all-night orgies. ~ Jonathan Ames

Quite the opposite actually. I think having hope is one of the most important things you can do. Once you let go of it, despair takes over. Despair will kill you quicker than hope ever could. So if you're going to hold onto something...I'm glad it's that. ~ Julie Johnson

Has the finger of death to be laid on the tumult of life from time to time lest it rend us asunder? Are we so made that we have to take death in small doses daily or we could not go on with the business of living? And then what strange powers are these that penetrate our most secret ways and change our most treasured possessions without our willing it? Had Orlando, worn out by the extremity of his suffering, died for a week, and then come to life again? And if so, of what nature is death and of what nature life? Having waited well over half an hour for an answer to these questions, and none coming, let us get on with the story. ~ Virginia Woolf

I can only miss the true and I can only mourn the brave. Cowards make it easy to let go because you're not losing anything worth having. ~ Donna Lynn Hope

In the case of two actors connecting with each other and trusting each other, our bodies have memories without us having to consciously think about it, so rather than think, "Oh, I must think about my daughter dying," you just let that go and trust that you have all the emotions you need in there, and by losing yourself in the scene, that stuff kicks in without having to spend the day thinking about horrific things happening to your own child. ~ Michael Sheen

We are marching in a compact group along a precipitous and difficult path, firmly holding each other by the hand. We are surrounded on all sides by enemies, and we have to advance almost constantly under their fire. We have combined, by a freely adopted decision, for the purpose of fighting the enemy, and not of retreating into the neighbouring marsh, the inhabitants of which, from the very outset, have reproached us with having separated ourselves into an exclusive group and with having chosen the path of struggle instead of the path of conciliation. And now some among us begin to cry out: Let us go into the marsh! And when we begin to shame them, they retort: What backward people you are! Are you not ashamed to deny us the liberty to invite you to take a better road! Oh, yes, gentlemen! You are free not only to invite us, but to go yourselves wherever you will, even into the marsh. In fact, we think that the marsh is your proper place, and we are prepared to render you every assistance to get there. Only let go of our hands, don't clutch at us and don't besmirch the grand word freedom, for we too are "free" to go where we please, free to fight not only against the marsh, but also against those who are turning towards the marsh! ~ Vladimir Lenin

Barry, let me give you a history lesson, Ladybird Hope-style. When the Vietnamese got kids hooked on drugs and we had to fight a war to stop it, did we give in? No! We said, "Crack is wack!" and we made sure everybody could have guns instead of drugs. Back before the British were our friends, and they had a mean king who made us pay too much tax instead of just having hot princes who go to nightclubs, they wanted to keep us from bringing freedom to the people of Mexico and making it a state, and George Washington had to chop down that cherry tree and write the "Star-Spangled Banner," and that's the reason we fought World War II, and why we keep fighting, because those freedom-hating people out there want to take away our right to be rich and good-lookin' and have gated communities and designer sweatpants like the ones from my Ladybird Hope Don't Sweat it line, and they want us all to learn to speak Muslim and let the lawyers stop us from teaching about Adam and Eve and that will be the day that every child gets left behind. ~ Libba Bray

One day when I went out to my wood-pile, or rather my pile of stumps, I observed two large ants, the one red, the other much larger, nearly half an inch long, and black, fiercely contending with one another. Having once got hold they never let go, but struggled and wrestled and rolled on the chips incessantly. Looking farther, I was surprised to find that the chips were covered with such combatants, that it was not a duellum, but a bellum, a war between two races of ants, the red always pitted against the black, and frequently two red ones to one black. The legions of these Myrmidons covered all the hills and vales in my wood-yard, and the ground was already strewn with the dead and dying, both red and black. It was the only battle which I have ever witnessed, the only battle-field I ever trod while the battle was raging; internecine war; the red republicans on the one hand, and the black imperialists on the other. On every side they were engaged in deadly combat, yet without any noise that I could hear, and human soldiers never fought so resolutely. ~ Henry David Thoreau

Such a nasty bruise," he says, staring straight into my eyes. I am stunned he can see it. Delicate to the touch and tender on every side, the bruise is deeper than days. My hand automatically moves to my chest.

Science taught me with valid assurance that my heart was fixed in my rib cage, but life has since shown me otherwise. My heart in fact dangles from a tangle of strings. The ends are grasped tight by numerous people who yank and release, having caused many painful bruises over time. I cry because they are invisible to most.

"Such a nasty bruise," he repeats, tugging on my poor heart.

His kind eyes fall away from mine as I feel a squeeze on my arm. He twists it enough to show me a small, round patch of purple surrounded by a sickly yellowish corona.

"Oh. My elbow." I let the air exhale from my lungs. Another bruise forms where my heart has hit the floor. It is jerked up again.

"Can I do anything for you?" I see in his eyes the mirror image of a finger - his finger - wrapped in one of the dangling strings. He tugs and I feel it.

"No," I reply to his question. But it is a lie. There is something he could do, along with all who grasp a portion of the web entangling my heart. I wish they would mercifully let go. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

If Josh could see me having to empty out his piss, and nurse him this way, he'd beg me to let him go. ~ LeeAnn Whitaker

Typically, [a victim of sexual assault] go home, take a shower, call their best friend, and evidence is lost. They say, "I can handle it." And they let time pass. And then, either the guy starts harassing them again or they see him do it to somebody else. Having that power on the first day is so important. ~ Kirsten Gillibrand

Life is happening whether you embrace it or not. You need to let go of the past, the pain, whatever holds you back from having a bright life. You need to free yourself, your mind, your heart. ~ S.L. Scott

Don't pack your bags just yet, stay awhile,
Don't try to run away to higher ground,
You're in my twisted clouds of sad misfortune,
And you are such an entertaining crowd!
(I've never had such cheerful toys to play with...)
Forget I said that – just a little natural disaster Humour,
Ha-ha-ha.

Pull up a rusty lawn chair
On the waterfront in New Orleans,
And ignore the wind that howls,
Things aren't always as they seem.
I can smell fear in the air,
Fresh amidst the cornbread steam,
Forgive me if I sound excited,
(I'm going to be famous, you know!)
And let me take your money, please!

I'll drown your family, hunt down your pets,
I've got tricks that I've never even tried yet,
And it's so easy when I get the chance!
(I'll swipe your house in just one glance!)

As the saying goes, it all comes out in the wash,
But I'm the only wash that leaves no stone unturned,
Financial devastation is my middle name,
And social degradation is my third!

You, little boy from the bayou bank,
You used to fish for pointless fun
(I can appreciate having fun),
But after I go, you'll find your parents poor,
You'll have eviction notices on your door,
You'll have to sell any fish you can catch,
In a desperate grasp for money,
Although I hate to break it to you,
That bayou's polluted, honey!
I see nothing in your future ~ Rebecca McNutt

I worry about you too," I said softly as I caressed her head resting against my chest. "You look tired."
Lark didn't speak for a minute. When she finally looked at me, I saw a lot of different emotions swirling in those bright green eyes. "I feel like shit. I'm tired and dizzy. I can't eat ninety percent of the food I used to eat. I feel awful, but I'm afraid to complain."
"Why?"
"Maddy just had her baby and she was so tough about the whole thing. I'm surprised she didn't give birth in the middle of the grocery store then go back to picking up things for dinner. Next to her, I'm a weakling. Also, Farah is going to be all brave and awesome too. I don't want to be the whiner."
"First of all, Maddy's got that natural breeder look about her. Some chicks are like that and you can't let the exception be your rule. Besides, you're having twins. You have more baby cooking to do than she did, so screw comparisons."
"I just don't want people to think less of me."
"By people, do you mean Aaron?"
"We barely met and got married and now I'm getting fat and I'm tired all the time. I don't want him to lose interest."
"Oh, Lark, you're so fucking stupid sometimes."
"Yeah, I know," she said, grinning. "We have that in common."
"So true."
"Mom said that I'm like her and she had a guy like Aaron and she suffocated him and he ditched her. I know Mom sucks, but what if she's right and I wear down Aaron and he stops loving me?"
Bijou Hunter

I had this whole Slim Shady concept of being two different people, having two different sides of me. One of them I was trying to let go, and I looked at the mirror and smashed it. That was the whole intro of the Slim Shady EP. Slim Shady was coming to haunt me ... ~ Eminem

Both the ferial and the festal cuisine, therefore, must be seen as styles of unabashed eating. Neither attempts to do anything to food other than render it delectable. Their distinction is grounded, not in sordid dietetic tricks, but in a choice between honest frugality or generous expense. Both aim only at excellence; accordingly, neither is suitable for dieting. Should a true man want to lose weight, let him fast. Let him sit down to nothing but coffee and conversation, if religion or reason bid him to do so; only let him not try to eat his cake without having it. Any cake he could do that with would be a pretty spooky proposition - a little golden calf with dietetic icing, and no taste at all worth having.

Let us fast, then - whenever we see fit, and as strenuously as we should. But having gotten that exercise out of the way, let us eat. Festally, first of all, for life without occasions is not worth living. But ferially, too, for life is so much more than occasions, and its grand ordinariness must never go unsavored. But both ways let us eat with a glad good will, and with a conscience formed by considerations of excellence, not by fear of Ghosts. ~ Robert Farrar Capon

He took a step forward and laid one big hand on her shoulder. She felt the heat of him against her bare skin. That was one way to get her mind off her security.
"I'm sorry I freaked you out. This is a safe neighborhood. I really wouldn't worry."
Ally nodded, having trouble coming up with a coherent response while he touched her.
"You wanta stay for a little while?" It wasn't a hard question, but he hesitated long enough that she wondered what was going on inside his head. Finally, he let out a sigh.
"Yeah, I do want to stay which is why I'm going to go."
"I don't understand." She did, however take note that his hand had remained on her shoulder. For a man intent on going, he hadn't made a move to leave yet.
"I'm afraid if I stay, I won't want to leave."
Ally swallowed hard and leaned a bit closer to him. "Then, don't leave." She saw his chest rise and fall, watched his focus drop to her lips, before he brought it back up to her eyes.
"You don't do one-night stands."
"I said I hadn't in the past; not that I was opposed to having one... with you."
"This can't be anything more than tonight."
Pulse racing, Ally nodded. "I know. ~ Cat Johnson

Gator, go wake that woman of yours. I need some answers. We need her to run the computers for us."
"Tonight, Boss?" Gator complained. "I had other ideas." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"We all did. Hop to it."
"What about Sam?" Tucker asked. "His woman is the one who got us into this."
"I'm wounded." Sam clutched his abdomen dramatically and staggered with quick, long strides so that he made it to the doorway in three quick steps.
Jonas coughed, sounding suspiciously like he'd muttered "bullshit" under his breath. Kyle threw a peanut at him and Jeff surfed across the table in his bare socks to try to catch him before he bolted.
"He's in love, boys, let him go. He'll probably just get laughed at," Tucker said. "Do you really think Azami's brothers are going to allow her to hook up with Sam? She's fine and he's . . . well . . . klutzy."
"That hurt," Sam said, turning back.
"Did you get a good look at those boys? I thought Japanese men were supposed to be on the short side, but Daiki was tall and all muscle. His brother moves like a fucking fighter," Tucker added. "They might just decide to give you a good beating for having the audacity to even think you could date their sister, let alone marry her."
"Fat help you are," Sam accused. "I could use a little confidence here."
Kyle snorted. "You don't have a chance, buddy."
"Goin' to meet your maker," Gator added solemnly.
Jeff crossed himself as he hung five toes ~ Christine Feehan

Peter: Where are you two going? Tris: Why aren't you with your attack group eating dinner? Peter: I don't have one. I'm injured. Christina: Yeah right, you are! Peter: Well, I don't want to go to battle with a bunch of factionless. So I'm going to stay here. Christina: Like a coward. Let everyone else clean up the mess for you. Peter: Yep! Have fun dying. ~ Veronica Roth

There are strong people who aren't able to climb. It's about reading the rock, knowing how to position your body and having the tenacity to not let go. ~ Chris Sharma

Hopefully as you get older, you start to learn how to live with your demon. It's hard at first. Some people give their demon so much room that there is no space in their head or bed for love. They feed their demon and it gets really strong and then it makes them stay in abusive relationships or starve their beautiful bodies. But sometimes, you get a little older and get a little bored of the demon. Through good therapy and friends and self-love you can practice treating the demon like a hacky, annoying cousin. Maybe a day even comes when you are getting dressed for a fancy event and it whispers, "You aren't pretty," and you go, "I know, I know, now let me find my earrings." Sometimes you say, "Demon, I promise you I will let you remind me of my ugliness, but right now I am having hot sex so I will check in later. ~ Amy Poehler

Human beings have a physical need to tell themselves when at work: "Let's have done with it now," and it's having constantly to go on thinking in the face of this need when philosophizing that makes this work so strenuous. ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

Having a few half fish in my family tree keeps my vision from blurring through the pudgy tears-I can perfectly see the solid yellow line on the road as I walk it. When I hear him following, I rip off my heels and start sprinting. Two months ago, this kind of abuse to my feet would leave them bleeding and with who-knows-what embedded in them. But with the convenience of my new thick skin, running barefoot is like running in Nike's latest kicks.
Galen is apparently a flying fish though-his hand wraps around my arm, braking my own sad attempt at flight. He whirls me around. Pulling me to him, he lifts my chin with the pad of his thumb. When I jerk away, he grasps it tight, forcing me to look at him. The old Emma would be bruised within the next ten minutes. The new one is just pissed off.
"Let go!" I screech, pushing against his chest. Somehow this just gets me closer to him.
"Emma," he growls as I stomp his foot. "What would you have done?"
Okay, that's unexpected. I stop flailing. "What? ~ Anna Banks

And I do, god, how I do love playing live, it's the most primal form of energy release you can share with other people besides having sex or taking drugs. So if you see a good live show on drugs and then later that evening have sex, you're basically covered all the bases of energy release, and we all need to let off steam. It's easier and safer than protesting abortion clinics or praising God or wanting to hurt your brother; so go to a show, dance around a bit and copulate. ~ Kurt Cobain

The Igbo people of Southern Nigeria are more than ten million strong and must be accounted one of the major peoples of Africa. Conventional practice would call them a tribe, but I no longer follow that convention. I call them a nation.

"Here we go again!," you might be thinking.
Well, let me explain. My Pocket Oxford Dictionary defines tribe as follows: "group of (esp. primitive) families or communities linked by social, religious or blood ties and usually having a common culture and dialect and a recognized leader." If we apply the different criteria of this definition to Igbo people we will come up with the following results:

a. Igbo people are not primitive; if we were I would not be offering this distinguished lecture, or would I?;
b. Igbo people are not linked by blood ties; although they may share many cultural traits;
c. Igbo people do not speak one dialect; they speak one language which has scores of major and minor dialects;
d. and as for having one recognized leader, Igbo people would regard the absence of such a recognized leader as the very defining principle of their social and political identity. ~ Chinua Achebe

Keep your voice down. And before you go all badass cop on me, I'm the one who saved your life outside. (Nathan)
How do I know that? (Terri)
Let's use some logic. You stuck your head in here. Someone tried to use it for target practice, but I yanked you away before you ended up headless. If I was the shooter, you'd be dead now and we wouldn't be having this conversation. (Nathan) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Did you know, the first time I saw you, I thought: I've never seen anything more captivating and beautiful?"
"Why are you telling me this?" I said miserably.
"I saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you. That wanting nearly drove me mad." Patch paused, inhaling softly, as though breathing me in. "And now that I have you, the only thing that terrifies me is having to go back to that place. Having to want you all over again, with no hope of my desire ever being fulfilled. You're mine, Angel. Every last piece of you. I won't let anything change that. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Ali McClelland. Too bad. I just can't let you become my sugar daddy." I put the notes back on the hall table. He shakes his head. "I'll never be your sugar anything! You stubborn git." He grabs me and kisses me with force, enough to make me see stars. When he lets me go, I give him a wide grin because I am giddy from his kisses. "Not everyone lives in a nice house in Islington. I only have my pride." "And I love your pride." Ali smiles. "But I'm not rich despite having this house. Emily's parents gave it to her as a wedding present. And when she died, it was passed on to me. I'm grateful for it but it doesn't define me." I sigh. "I never said it did." "And you'll make me a very happy man if you come and share it with me. The house has three bedrooms. You can even have your own space." He waves his hand as if to emphasise the point that there is plenty of room. I keep putting off the discussion of 'our future' as I know what it means. If I move in with him, I won't need to be an escort anymore to pay rent and I can maybe get a low-paid or part-time job. I can even go back to study music at college. It is a big step. I am scared, properly frightened. What if it doesn't work out? On the other hand, I've got nothing to lose except the newfound control of my life at the expense of selling my arse. I promise myself I'll give it more thought ~ A. Zukowski

In the old days, farmers would keep a little of their home-made opium for their families, to be used during illnesses, or at harvests and weddings; the rest they would sell to the local nobility, or to pykari merchants from Patna. Back then, a few clumps of poppy were enough to provide for a household's needs, leaving a little over, to be sold: no one was inclined to plant more because of all the work it took to grow poppies - fifteen ploughings of the land and every remaining clod to be built; purchases of manure and constant watering; and after all that, the frenzy of the harvest, each bulb having to be individually nicked, drained and scrapped. Such punishment was bearable when you had a patch or two of poppies - but what sane person would want to multiply these labours when there were better, more useful crops to grow, like wheat, dal, vegetables? But those toothsome winter crops were steadily shrinking in acreage: now the factory's appetite for opium seemed never to be seated. Come the cold weather, the English sahibs would allow little else to be planted; their agents would go from home to home, forcing cash advances on the farmers, making them sign /asámi/ contracts. It was impossible to say no to them: if you refused they would leave their silver hidden in your house, or throw it through a window. It was no use telling the white magistrate that you hadn't accepted the money and your thumbprint was forged: he earned commissions on the oppium adn would never let you off ~ Amitav Ghosh

I'm like him," she'd whispered.

"You're not," Wren said.

"I am. I'm crazy like him." She was already having panic attacks. She was already hiding at parties. In seventh grade, she'd been late to class for the first two weeks because she couldn't stand being in the halls with everyone else during passing periods. "It's probably going to get worse in a few years. That's when it usually kicks in."

"You're not," Wren said.

"But what if I am?"

"Decide not to be."

"That's not how it works," Cath argued.

"Nobody knows how it works."

"What if I don't even see it coming."

"I'll see it coming."

Cath tried to stop crying, but she'd been crying so long, the crying had taken over, making her bvreathe in harsh sniffs and jerks.

"If it takes you," Wren said. "I won't let go."

A few months later, Cath gave that line to Simon in a scene about Baz's bloodlust. Wren was still writing with Cath back then, and when she got to the line, she snorted.

"I'm here for you if you go manic," Wren said. "But you're on your own if you become a vampire."

"What good are you anyway," Cath said. Their dad was home by then. And better. And Cath didn't feel, for the moment, like her DNA was a trap ready to snap closed on her.

"Apparently, I'm good for something," Wren said. "You keep stealing all my best lines. ~ Rainbow Rowell