He Has A Girlfriend Quotes

Katniss: I'm coming back into focus when Caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home.
Peeta: (Gives an unconvincing shake of head.)
Caesar: Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?
Peeta: Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping.
Caesar: She have another fellow?
Peeta: I don't know, but a lot of boys like her.
Caesar: So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down, eh?
Peeta: I don't think it's going to work out. Winning ... won't help in my case.
Caesar: Why ever not?
Peeta: Because ... because ... she came here with me.
Caesar: Oh, that is a piece of bad luck.
Peeta: It's not good.
Caesar: Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?
Peeta: Not until now. ~ Suzanne Collins

I'm coming back into focus when Caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home. Peeta hesitates, then gives an unconvincing shake of his head.
Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" says Caesar.
Peeta sighs. "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."
Sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Unrequited love they can relate to.
She have another fellow?" asks Caesar.
I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," says Peeta.
So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar encouragingly.
I don't think it's going to work out. Winning ... won't help in my case," says Peeta.
Why ever not?" says Caesar, mystified.
Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "Because ... because ... she came here with me. ~ Suzanne Collins

Her stomach lurches. She fancies him sooo much - she is powerless to resist. How can she possibly? She knows it's wrong: he has a girlfriend - he lives with her, for goodness' sake - and what they're doing is unfair, cruel. She is not sure what he's said to his girlfriend to wangle a night away and she doesn't want to know. She would hate it if it was done to her - she has never seen herself as the kind of girl who would steal another woman's man. She and Anna have always been most disapproving about women who do that, arguing through college and beyond that there are plenty of available men out there, that it is quite unnecessary to go for those already spoken for. But she has liked Simon since day one, and he is the one who initiated this whole thing. He is the one who blew her away with a clandestine kiss just a week ago, who asked if he could come back and stay at hers afterwards; he is the one who doubtless made unconvincing excuses when he returned home the next day. And it only took that single night to open this Pandora's box of mutual passion, being together was far, far better than it should have been, were it only a one-night stand. Karen senses that he really likes her. ~ Sarah Rayner

What's that?"
"My friend St. Clair bought it for me. So I wouldn't feel out of place."
She raises her eyebrows as she pulls back onto the road. "Are there a lot of Canadians in Paris?"
My face warms. "I just felt,you know, stupid for a while. Like one of those lame American tourists with the white sneakers and the cameras around their necks? So he bought it for me, so I wouldn't feel....embarrassed. American."
"Being American is nothing to be ashamed of," she snaps.
"God,Mom,I know.I just meant-forget it."
"Is this the English boy with the French father?"
"What does that have anything to do with it?" I'm angry. I don't like what she's implying. "Besides,he's American. He was born here? His mom lives in San Francisco. We sat next to each other on the plane."
We stop at a red light.Mom stares at me. "You like him."
"OH GOD,MOM."
"You do.You like this boy."
"He's just a friend.He has a girlfriend."
"Anna has a boooy-friend," Seany chants.
"I do not!"
"ANNA HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!"
I take a sip of coffee and choke. It's disgusting. It's sludge. No, it's worse than sludge-at least sludge is organic. Seany is still taunting me. Mom reaches around and grabs his legs,which are kicking her seat again.She sees me making a face at my drink.
"My,my. Once semester in France, and suddenly we're Miss Sophisticated. Your father will be thrilled."
Like it was my choice! Like I asked to go to Paris! And how dare s ~ Stephanie Perkins

I think he has a girlfriend? Not sure though, he just seems to be off limits to all women here - well you know the other single women teachers. Maybe he's gay?"
"I seriously doubt that one." I responded struggling not to laugh.
"That would be a serious punishment to women kind. I wonder what he looks like without that vest and tie teacher getup ... I bet he looks amazing naked."
"Holy crap Jaz!" I yelped, but I knew I was blushing. I knew what he looked like with his shirt off and it was damned good. ~ Cassandra Giovanni

Francis Bacon is a good-looking young man. I don't think he has a girlfriend but I don't know. I don't think he has a boyfriend, either, but I don't know. If he has a group of friends at school, that where he keeps them. He doesn't get many phone calls here. He doesn't go out often. He keeps to himself, even in the family. He's pleasant and polite. Sure, he and I get into fights. He doesn't have his music loud enough. He doesn't drink or smoke enough. We never walk in on him having sex with some girl. It's regular family stuff. "Francis Bacon, are the cops ever going to come looking for you?" You know. That sort of thing. ~ James Marshall

Weapons are instruments of fear; they are not a wise man's tools. He uses them only when he has no choice. ~ Laozi

He who wishes to explain Generation must take for his theme the organic body and its constituent parts, and philosophize about them; he must show how these parts originated, and how they came to be in that relation in which they stand to each other. But he who learns to know a thing not only from its phenomena, but also its reasons and causes; and who, therefore, not by the phenomena merely, but by these also, is compelled to say: 'The thing must be so, and it cannot be otherwise; it is necessarily of such a character; it must have such qualities; it is impossible for it to possess others' - understands the thing not only historically but truly philosophically, and he has a philosophic knowledge of it. Our own Theory of Generation is to be such a philosphic comprehension of an organic body, a very different one from one merely historical. (1764) ~ Caspar Friedrich Wolff

[Satan] has hundreds of agents writing pornographic literature and producing sex movies to pollute [the mind]. He has intellectuals in high positions teaching a hedonistic and permissive philosophy ... They lack an anchor for their real self. ~ Billy Graham

He has a saying: he'll only believe what can be written on a postcard. ~ John Le Carre

Dimity said, "I wrote him poetry!"
( ... ) "Dimity," Sophronia said, horrified by such an admission, "you didn't give him the poetry, did you?"
"Certainly not."
Sidheag tilted back in her chair, grinning. "Well, let's hear it."
"Oh, no. I don't think that's a good idea at all."
But Dimity was already dipping into her reticule and pulling out a scrap of paper. She gave it to Sidheag, who read it with a perfectly straight face, her tawny eyes dancing, and then passed it Sophronia.
"My love is like a red red rose
Occasionally he has a red red nose
He could keep me warm in the snows
I wager he has very nice toes."
Sophronia could think of nothing to say except, "Oh, Dimity. ~ Gail Carriger

A man is in general better pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table, than when his wife talks Greek. ~ Samuel Johnson

From his style, you'd think Jason Brannon was the dark double of Ray Bradbury. He cares more about character and realism than most writers I've read and his plots flow like well-orchestrated music. Indeed, Brannon's writing has a classical feel, reminiscent of the best traditional work in the genre, even when he's going for gut-wrenching terror and torture in-extremis. ~ Michael Arnzen

I ask him if he tried to rape Nyla.

"Laws are silent in times of war," Tactus drawls.

"Don't quote Cicero to me," I say. "You are held to a higher standard than a marauding centurion."

"In that, you're hitting the mark at least. I am a superior creature descended from proud stock and glorious heritage. Might makes right, Darrow. If I can take, I may take. If I do take, I deserve to have. This is what Peerless believe."

"The measure of a man is what he does when he has power," I say loudly.

"Just come off it, Reaper," Tactus drawls, confident in himself as all like him are. "She's a spoil of war. My power took her. And before the strong, bend the weak."

"I'm stronger than you, Tactus," I say. "So I can do with you as I wish. No?"

He's silent, realizing he's fallen into a trap.

"You are from a superior family to mine, Tactus. My parents are dead. I am the sole member of my family. But I am a superior creature to you."

He smirks at that.

"Do you disagree?" I toss a knife at his feet and pull my own out. "I beg you to voice your concerns." He does not pick his blade up. "So, by right of power, I can do with you as I like."

I announce that rape will never be permitted, and then I ask Nyla the punishment she would give. As she told me before, she says she wants no punishment. I make sure they know this, so there are no recriminations against her. Tactus and his a ~ Pierce Brown

Each man takes care that his neighbor shall not cheat him. But a day comes when he begins to care that he does not cheat his neighbor. Then all goes well - he has changed his market-cart into a chariot of the sun. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Quinn and Lisa

He pulled her to her feet. "Let's go home."
"Sure."
"Want to ride double?"
"On your horse?"
"I promise Thunder will be on his best behavior."
"Quinn, he has no manners. He tried to take a nip out of my hat yesterday."
He groaned. "He didn't."
She held it out. "Look at it. You can see the teeth marks."
"Lizzy, you promised not to make a pet out of my horse."
"What?"
"He's falling in love with you."
She burst out laughing at his grim pronouncement.
"I'm serious," Quinn insisted. "What have you been feeding him?"
"I wasn't supposed to?"
"Lizzy."
"Sugar cubes. He likes them."
"You're hopeless, you know that?"
"I didn't mean to."
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Sure you didn't. Please remember the cattle are sold as beef. This is a working ranch."
"Quinn-" she couldn't resist-"even the pretty little ones? ~ Dee Henderson

If in one's life a man can but find one truth, and pass it on to those who come after him, he has done well. But ~ Barry Sadler

When I heard of the shady tactics of the Moonies, my initial indignation was modified by empathy. I remembered only too well all the innocuous-sounding "fronts" operated by Evangelicals in order to witness to sinners, e.g., coffee houses, concerts, philosophical forums, religious surveys. None of these was ever billed for what it was. The idea was to hook the unsuspecting sinner and win an opportunity to tell him the gospel. Similar Machiavellian tactics govern various interpersonal contacts. A campus leader or foreign student may find himself the object of an Evangelical's friendly attention, not realizing he has been singled out for "friendship evangelism" because of his potentially strategic position. ~ Robert M. Price

This president (Barack Obama) I think has exposed himself over and over and over again as a guy who has a deep-seated hatred for white people or the white culture ... I'm not saying he doesn't like white people, I'm saying he has a problem. This guy is, I believe, a racist. ~ Glenn Beck

Does your husband dictate where you can and cannot go?"
The woman looked as though she expected to be proven right.
"My husband would never do that." Rose informed her coolly. "Although there will always be unsavory characters at any social gathering, my husband trusts me to decide the ones I wish to attend."
The woman flushed, and Rose felt a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing that her barb had struck a nerve. "If that's true, he must have changed immensely since the days when we were acquainted."
Ahh. Now the claws came out. No wonder the woman had made such vile aspirations earlier. She was jealous.
"He has." Rose held the other woman's gaze, not caring a whit for how she said the word "acquainted." This woman had slept with her husband, and oddly enough she wasn't the least bit jealous. She did, however, feel sorry for the woman because Grey had been a different man back then. "My husband is very attentive and courteous to my wishes. I couldn't be more satisfied with my situation." Oh God, had she actually said that? The innuendo practically stood up on its own and waved to everyone in the room.
What was it about Grey-no, about this woman-that made her feel as though she had to defend her marriage, and brag about her sex life? It was just so pretty.
"You were once a friend of the duke's, were you not, Lady Devane?" The woman-whose name Rose could not remember-slanted a devious glance in the blonde woman's direction.
Everyone ~ Kathryn Smith

Of all the conceptions of the divine, of all the language Jesus could put on the lips of the God character in the story he tells, that's what he has the Father say. "You are always with me, and everything I have is yours." ...

Millions of people in our world were told that God so loved the world, that God sent his son to save the world, and that if they accept and believe in Jesus, then they'll be able to have a relationship with God...

But there's more. Millions have been taught that if they don't believe, if they don't accept in the right way, that is, the way the person telling them "the gospel" does, and they were hit by a car and died later that same day, God will have no choice but to punish them forever in conscious torment in hell... A loving heavenly father who will go to extraordinary lengths to have a relationship with them would, in the blink of an eye, become a cruel, mean, vicious tormentor who would ensure that they had no escape from an endless future of agony... if your God is loving one second and cruel the next, if your God will punish people for all eternity for sins committed in a few short years, no amount of clever marketing or compelling language or good music or great coffee will be able to disguise that one, true, glaring, untenable, acceptable, awful reality... sometimes the reason people have a problem accepting the gospel is that they sense that the God lurking behind Jesus isn't safe, loving, or good. It doesn't make sense, ~ Rob Bell

Ronald Reagan has a stack of three-by-five cards in his lap. He skids up a new one: "What advice do you, as the youngest American fighting man ever to win both the Navy Cross and the Silver Star, have for any young marines on their way to Guadalcanal?"
Shaftoe doesn't have to think very long. The memories are still as fresh as last night's eleventh nighmare: ten plucky Nips in Suicide Charge!
"Just kill the one with the sword first."
"Ah," Reagan says, raising his waxed and penciled eyebrows, and cocking his pompadour in Shaftoe's direction. "Smarrrt
you target them because they're the officers, right?"
"No, fuckhead!" Shaftoe yells. "You kill 'em because they've got fucking swords! You ever had anyone running at you waving a fucking sword? ~ Neal Stephenson

The guilt helped him instinctively understand what he would consciously later learn, that a man's character is determined by how he chooses to wield the power he has over others. ~ Rabeah Ghaffari

I know women are taught by other women that they must never admit the full truth to a man. But the highest form of affection is based on full sincerity on both sides. Not being men, these women don't know that in looking back on those he has had tender relations with, a man's heart returns closest to her who was the soul of truth in her conduct. The better class of man, even if caught by airy affectations of dodging and parrying, is not retained by them. A Nemesis attends the woman who plays the game of elusiveness too often, in the utter contempt for her that, sooner or later, her old admirers feel; under which they allow her to go unlamented to her grave. ~ Thomas Hardy

Every day we learn more and more about this wacky Osama bin Laden. He lives in a cave and at one time he was a womanizer. But now he has settled down with his five wives and 26 kids, so that's now all over ... He also had a drinking problem at one time. I believe he went through 'Jihab' ~ David Letterman

Yes, it's annoying that Hamlet doesn't kill his stepfather ten minutes into the play, but if he did kill his stepfather ten minutes into the play, there wouldn't be a play. He has to be annoying, if you will, and not do what would be the thing to do. ~ Dallas Roberts

You can choose to become an engineer, a teacher, a journalist or to pursue any other kind of profession. But when God calls you, you do not know what He has called you to do or what ministry he has in mind for you ~ Sunday Adelaja

Roy Blount is so funny, and he sounds like he's just talking, and the next thing you know he has tossed off
an essay as elegant and intricately structured as a birdsong. His ear for American speech is better than anybody's. ~ Ian Frazier

Man desires a world where good and evil can be clearly distinguished, for he has an innate and irrepressible desire to judge before he understands. ~ Milan Kundera

You may be going through things right now that are painfully preparing you for some precious service to Jesus and to his people. When a person strikes rock bottom with a sense of nothingness or helplessness, he may find that he has struck the Rock of Ages ~ John Piper

Man knows himself as body, and what he knows of spirit comes through grace. The poet would call it inspiration. But the spirit bloweth where it listeth. Man has no control over his inspiration. If a piece of music or a poem has moved him once, he can never be certain that it will happen again. But man hates to think that he has no control over the spirit. It would discourage him too much. He likes to believe that he can summon the spirit by some ordinary act. Instead of striving to prepare himself for it through discipline and prayer, he tries to summon it arbitrarily through some physical act - drinking Düsseldorf beer, for instance. . .

Stein said, chuckling:

Which is the way all good Düsseldorfers summon the spirit, since our Dunkelbier is the best in Germany.

The priest laughed with him, and for a moment Sorme had a curious impression that he was listening to an argument between two undergraduates instead of two men in their late sixties. He shrank deeper into his armchair, wanting them to forget his presence. The priest stopped laughing first, and Sorme had a glimpse of the tiredness that always lay behind his eyes. Stein also became grave again. He said:

Very well. But what has this to do with the murderer?

It has to do with sex. For sex is the favourite human device for summoning the spirit. And since it is also God's gift of procreation, it nearly always works. . . unlike music and poetry.

Or beer, ~ Colin Wilson

Indeed, compulsive and rigid moralism arises in given persons precisely as the result of a lack of sense of being. Rigid moralism is a compensatory mechanism by which the individual persuades himself to take over the external sanctions because he has no fundamental assurance that his own choices have any sanction of their own ~ Rollo May

The eighteen years he has lived seem but a moment, a breathing space in the long march of humanity. Already he hears death calling. With all his heart he wants to come close to some other human, touch someone with his hands, be touched by the hand of another. ~ Sherwood Anderson

1I waited patiently for the LORD to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. 2He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. 3He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the LORD. ~ Anonymous

A man has a right to use a saw, an axe, a plane, separately; may he not combine their uses on the same piece of wood? He has a right to use his knife to cut his meat, a fork to hold it; may a patentee take from him the right to combine their use on the same subject? Such a law, instead of enlarging our conveniences, as was intended, would most fearfully abridge them, and crowd us by monopolies out of the use of the things we have. ~ Thomas Jefferson

God is a symbol of imaginative power; he has as much power and love as you can imagine. ~ Debasish Mridha

We do not often get to declare victories, Natch, and most of them do not remain victories for very long. Ultimately when you reach my age you realize that victories are temporary, and in all the years of human history there is one final battle which nobody has ever won.Time has a way of changing the terms of your victories over the years, until you begin to wonder precisely what it was you fought for so viciously, so uncompromisingly. You begin to see that victory and defeat are but alternate reflections from the same prism.You see that the measure of a person really might be the integrity with which he fought his battles and not their ultimate dispensation, just like your elders have been telling you all along. ~ David Louis Edelman

They're looking now. He's at the far side of the hall with a hulking group of football players, and all heads are turned his way. I've always thought Baylor was big and tall, but one of the guys next to him looks like he eats screaming villagers for breakfast. A linebacker, if I had to guess. He even has a beard, full and bushy. Hagrid's younger brother maybe. ~ Kristen Callihan

A Vulgar Mechanick can practice what he has been taught or seen done, but if he is in an error he knows not how to find it out and correct it, and if you put him out of his road he is at a stand. Whereas he that is able to reason nimbly and judiciously about figure, force, and motion, is never at rest till he gets over every rub.
(from a letter dated 25 May, 1694) ~ Isaac Newton

Mr. Bucket and his fat forefinger are much in consultation together under existing circumstances. When Mr. Bucket has a matter of this pressing interest under his consideration, the fat forefinger seems to rise, to the dignity of a familiar demon. He puts it to his ears, and it whispers information; he puts it to his lips, and it enjoins him to secrecy; he rubs it over his nose, and it sharpens his scent; he shakes it before a guilty man, and it charms him to his destruction. ~ Charles Dickens

Readers, on the other hand, have at least 7.5 books going all the time. Actually, the number of books a reader takes on is usually directly related to the number of bathrooms he has in his home and office. I am working on a survey that will show that, over a lifetime, readers are in bathrooms seven years and three months longer than nonreaders. ~ Calvin Miller

The only ghosts, I believe, who creep into this world, are dead
young mothers, returned to see how their children fare. There is
no other inducement great enough to bring the departed back.
They glide into the acquainted room when day and night, their
jailers, are in the grip, and whisper, "How is it with you, my
child?" but always, lest a strange face should frighten him, they
whisper it so low that he may not hear. They bend over him to
see that he sleeps peacefully, and replace his sweet arm beneath
the coverlet, and they open the drawers to count how many little
vests he has. They love to do these things.

What is saddest about ghosts is that they may not know their
child. They expect him to be just as he was when they left him,
and they are easily bewildered, and search for him from room to
room, and hate the unknown boy he has become. Poor, passionate
souls, they may even do him an injury. These are the ghosts that
go wailing about old houses, and foolish wild stories are
invented to explain what is all so pathetic and simple. I know
of a man who, after wandering far, returned to his early home to
pass the evening of his days in it, and sometimes from his chair
by the fire he saw the door open softly and a woman's face
appear. She always looked at him very vindictively, and then
vanished. Strange things happened in this house. Windows were < ~ J.M. Barrie

Religion, then, is far from "useless." It humanizes violence; it protects man from his own violence by taking it out of his hands, transforming it into a transcendent and ever-present danger to be kept in check by the appropriate rites appropriately observed and by a modest and prudent demeanor. Religious misinterpretation is a truly constructive force, for it purges man of the suspicions that would poison his existence if he were to remain conscious of the crisis as it actually took place.

To think religiously is to envision the city's destiny in terms of that violence whose mastery over man increases as man believes he has gained mastery over it. To think religiously (in the primitive sense) is to see violence as something superhuman, to be kept always at a distance and ultimately renounced. When the fearful adoration of this power begins to diminish and all distinctions begin to disappear, the ritual sacrifices lose their force; their potency is not longer recognized by the entire community. Each member tries to correct the situation individually, and none succeeds. The withering away of the transcendental influence means that there is no longer the slightest difference between a desire to save the city and unbridled ambition, between genuine piety and the desire to claim divine status for oneself. Everyone looks on a rival enterprise as evidence of blasphemous designs. Men set to quarreling about the gods, and their skepticism leads to a new sacrificial crisis ~ Rene Girard

S., a clever and truthful man, once told me the story of how he ceased to believe. On a hunting expedition, when he was already twenty-six, he once, at the place where they put up for the night, knelt down in the evening to pray -- a habit retained from childhood. His elder brother, who was at the hunt with him, was lying on some hay and watching him. When S. had finished and was settling down for the night, his brother said to him: 'So you still do that?' They said nothing more to one another. But from that day S. ceased to say his prayers or go to church. And now he has not prayed, received communion, or gone to church, for thirty years. And this not because he knows his brother's convictions and has joined him in them, nor because he has decided anything in his own soul, but simply because the word spoken by his brother was like the push of a finger on a wall that was ready to fall by its own weight. The word only showed that where he thought there was faith, in reality there had long been an empty space, and that therefore the utterance of words and the making of signs of the cross and genuflections while praying were quite senseless actions. Becoming conscious of their senselessness he could not continue them. ~ Leo Tolstoy

I prefer the mountains." He said it quietly,neutrally.
She suddenly grinned at him, that mischievous,impish smile he couldn't resist. "When an old geezer marries a young chick,he has to learn to get back into the swing of things. Party time. Night life.Does it ring a bell, or has it been too long?" she teased.
Gregori bunched her hair in his hand and tugged."Show some respect, bebe,or I might have to turn you over my knee."
"Kinky." One delicate shoulder rose and fell in a sexy little shrug. "I'm willing to try anything once. ~ Christine Feehan