How To Look For A Lost Dog Quotes

One night last year when my father and I were eating supper at 6.17 p.m., I said to him, "Did you have a favourite?"
"A favourite what?" asked my father.
"A favourite foster mother."
"Yes, I did," said my father. "Her name was Hannah Pederson."
"That is very interesting," I told him, recalling Mrs Leibler's conversational tips, "because 'Hannah' is a kind of word called a palindrome. That means you can spell it the same way whether you start at the beginning or the end. My name is not a palindrome because if you spell it backwards it's E-S-O-R. But it does have a homonym."
My father said, "Don't get started on homonyms, Rose."
So I said, "Did you have any favourite foster brothers or sisters?"
"Yes," said my father after a moment.
"How interesting," I replied. "Did any of their names have homonyms? ~ Ann M. Martin

Bertie's gaze fell there and his blue eyes widened. "Deuce take you, Jess," he said crossly. "Can't a fellow trust you for a moment? How many times do I have to tell you to leave my friends alone?"

Miss Trent coolly withdrew her hand.

Trent gave Dain an apologetic look. "Don't pay it any mind, Dain. She does that to all the chaps. I don't know why she does it, when she don't want 'em. Just like them fool cats of Aunt Louisa's. Go to all the bother of catching a mouse, and then the confounded things won't eat 'em. Just leave the corpses lying about for someone else to pick up."

Miss Trent's lips quivered. ~ Loretta Chase

I'm just a black hole for stuff. No one should ever hand me anything, because I get so easily distracted. I'll be like, 'Oh, look, something shiny!' I'm glad I never learned how to drive. I would be really dangerous. ~ Florence Welch

Christ, Harry," Murphy said quietly. "No one just starts giggling and wearing black and signs up to become a villainous monster. How the hell do you think it happens?" She shook her head, her eyes pained. "It happens to people. Just people. They make questionable choices, for what might be very good reasons. They make choice after choice, and none of them is slaughtering roomfuls of saints, or murdering hundreds of baby seals, or rubber-room irrational. But it adds up. And then one day they look around and realize that they're so far over the line that they can't remember where it was." I ~ Jim Butcher

What will become of young adults who look accomplished on paper but seem to have a hard time making their way in the world without the constant involvement of their parents? How will the real world feel to a young person who has grown used to problems being solved for them and accustomed to praise at every turn? Is it too late for them to develop a hunger to be in charge of their own lives? Will they at some point stop referring to themselves as kids and dare to claim the "adult" label for themselves? If not, then what will become of a society populated by such "adults"? These were the questions that began to gnaw at ~ Julie Lythcott-Haims

Joaquin shook his head. "Look, you two are my sisters, right? You're my family. I won't hurt you like that."
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Maya suddenly screamed, and they both turned around to see her still standing next to the car, hand on hips.
"That's exactly what family is, Joaquin!" Maya shouted at him. "It means that no matter where you go, no matter how far you run, you're still a part of me and Grace and we're still a part of you, too! Look at us! It took us fifteen years to find each other, but we still did! And sometimes, family hurts each other. But after that's done you bandage each other up, and you move on. Together. So you can go and think that you're some lone wolf, but you're not! You've got us now, like it or not, and we've got you. So get in this fucking car and let's go! ~ Robin Benway

Sometimes when the Spirit of God was striving and calling so plainly, I would yield and say, 'Yes, Lord; I will go.' The glory of God came upon me like a cloud, and I seemed to be carried away hundreds of miles and set down in a field of wheat, where the sheaves were falling all around me. I was filled with zeal and power, and felt as if I could stand before the whole world and plead with dying sinners. It seemed to me that I must leave all and go at once. Then Satan would come in like a flood and say, 'You would look nice preaching, being a gazing-stock for the people to make sport of. You know you could not do it.'

Then I would think of my weakness and say, 'No; of course I cannot do it.' Then I would be in darkness and despair. I wanted to run away from God, or I wished I could die; but when I began to look at the matter in this way, that God knew all about me, and was able and willing to qualify me for the work, I asked Him to qualify me for the work. I ASKED HIM TO QUALIFY ME. ~ Maria Woodworth-Etter

I appreciate the scientific rigor with which you've approached this project, Anna," said Christopher, who had gotten jam on his sleeve. "Though I don't think I could manage to collect that many names and also pursue science. Much too time-consuming."
Anna laughed. "How many names would you want to collect, then?"
Christopher tilted his head, a brief frown of concentration crossing his face, and did not reply.
"I would only want one," said Thomas.
Cordelia thought of the delicate tracery of the compass rose on Thomas's arm, and wondered if he had any special person in mind.
"Too late for me to only have one," declared Matthew airily. "At least I can hope for several names in a carefully but enthusiastically selected list."
"Nobody's ever tried to seduce me at all," Lucie announced in a brooding fashion. "There's no need to look at me like that, James. I wouldn't say yes, but I could immortalize the experience in my novel."
"It would be a very short novel, before we got hold of the blackguard and killed him," said James.
There was a chorus of laughter and argument. The afternoon sun was sinking in the sky, its rays catching the jeweled hilts of the knives in Anna's mantelpiece. They cast shimmering rainbow patterns on the gold-and-green walls. The light illuminated Anna's shabby-bright flat, making something in Cordelia's heart ache. It was such a homey place, in a way that her big cold house in Kensington was not.
"What about you, C ~ Cassandra Clare

Youth
You're young and there's still so much ahead. So much uncertainty and doubt. It keeps you up at night - this wild, restless feeling. But you don't know how free you are. For this short, miraculous time, you have no one to answer to, nothing to lose. You belong wholly to yourself. And even though some days you wish your world would stop spinning for a second, to let you catch your breath - believe me, someday you're going to look back on this and you're going to miss this feeling ~ Lang Leav

You can try it for yourself right now, if you like. Choose one project that is new or stuck or that could simply use some improvement. Think of your purpose. Think of what a successful outcome would look like: where would you be physically, financially, in terms of reputation, or whatever? Brainstorm potential steps. Organize your ideas. Decide on the next actions. Are you any clearer about where you want to go and how to get there? ~ David Allen

Derrick flies through the portal first. "Look at you," he says, stopping to study me. "Alive. Unscathed. Good. If you hadn't been, I would have lopped his fingers off."

Kiaran moves to stand beside me. "I would have pulled off your wings."

"Ignore him, pixie." Aithinne strides into the room, her long coat billowing behind her. "I should have figured he'd be sullen and moody."

Kiaran's emotionless gaze flickers to her. "Phiuthair."

"Bhràthair." She stops and studies him. "You look like hell. I suppose you haven't fed in a few days, if the lack of gifts is any indication."

"Don't." Kiaran's voice dips in warning.

"I'm wonderful, by the way," she continues, as if he hadn't spoken. "Do you like my coat? Don't I look lovely? Aren't I the best sister for standing here, still willing to talk to you after you've ignored me for months, you stubborn bastard?"

"Well, this is fun," Derrick says. "I'm really feeling the love in this room. It's beautiful. Aileana, isn't it beautiful?"

"You're here because Kam wanted your help. Not because I did."

"Damn it, MacKay - "

"You might not have wanted me," Aithinne says, ignoring my attempts to stand between them, "but look how quickly I came. Because I still care about you. Though god only knows why, since you're such an obstinate pain in my arse."

"I love it when Aithinne curses at people." Derrick says to me. "I say we let th ~ Elizabeth May

Little girl, who gave you permission to--Oh!" She bit off her words the moment that she noticed how well I was dressed, to say nothing of the two guards attending me. Her expression transformed from sour to sweet with stunning speed.
"Ah, noble lady, I see that you have a keen eye for quality," she cried. "You won't find better cloth anywhere in Delphi--warm in winter, light in summer, tightly woven, and proof against wind and rain. And just look at those colors!"
I did. They were all drab grays and browns. I held the first cloth up to the sunlight. If that was what she called a tight weave, so was a fishing net.
"I want a cloak," I told her, tossing the cloth aside. "Something long and heavy. It's for him." I nodded at Milo.
"Of course, just as you wish, I have exactly what you want, wait right here," she chattered. "I'll bring out the best I have, something worthy of the noble lord." She raised her hands to Milo in a gesture of reverence before ducking back into her house.
"'The noble lord'?" the tall guard repeated, incredulous. He and his companion snickered. Milo looked miserable.
"Ignore them," I told him, speaking low. "I promise you, before today is over, you'll be the one laughing at them. ~ Esther M. Friesner

People love their causes they champion; they love their divisions and neatly packaged boxes of identity; for without them, they would be forced to look within, find themselves, set aside pettiness and face reality (that's quite frightening to most). As a result, they are like a lost ship at sea, forced to submit to the waves of society. ~ Dara Reidyr

Well," he sighed, squeezing my hand back. "I guess we were both running away in different ways."
"What do you mean?"
Dad shook his head. "Your mother took a Mustang. I took a whiskey bottle." He reached up and readjusted his glasses, an unconscious habit-he always did it when he was making a point. "I was so devastated by what your mother did to me that I forgot how horrible drinking is. I forgot to look on the bright side."
"Dad," I said, "I don't think there is a bright side to divorce. It's a pretty sucky thing all around."
He nodded. "Maybe that's true, but there are a lot of bright sides to my life. I have a job I like, a nice house in a good neighborhood, and a wonderful daughter."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh God," I muttered. "Don't go all Lifetime movie on me. Seriously."
"I'm sorry," he said, smiling. "But I mean it. A lot of people would kill for my life, but I didn't even consider that. I took it-and you-for granted. I'm so, so sorry for that, Bumblebee. ~ Kody Keplinger

Cage

It's a tear i want to shed,
For the weathered roses that once was red,

Today it's a decision want to make,
To move on in life ignoring the fate,

It's the promises i want to break,
Because its a nightmare and i want to awake,

It is the poem that don't rhyme,
I don't know how, but things changed with the tides of time,

It's the memories i want to forget,
Now i am tired, no more i can regret,

I'm the one, who feels alone in the crowd,
I want to cry, run and shout out loud,

Please leave me alone, relieve me from the pain,
I am empty now, there is nothing more you can regain,

Look at me and deep into my eyes,
You will find the love that never dies, ~ Ratish Edwards

Sorrow and profound fatigue are at the heart of Dewey's silence. It had been his ambition to learn "exactly what happened in that house that night." Twice now he'd been told, and the two versions were very much alike, the only serious discrepancy being that Hickock attributed all four deaths to Smith, while Smith contended that Hickock had killed the two women. But the confessions, though they answered
questions of how and why, failed to satisfy his sense of meaningful design. The crime was a psychological accident, virtually an impersonal act; the victims might as well have been killed by lightning. Except for one thing: they had experienced prolonged terror, they had suffered. And Dewey could not forget their sufferings. Nonetheless, he found it possible to look at the man beside him without anger - with, rather, a measure of sympathy - for Perry Smith's life had been no bed of roses but pitiful, an ugly and lonely progress toward one mirage and then another. Dewey's sympathy, however, was not deep enough to accommodate either forgiveness or mercy. He hoped to see Perry and his partner hanged - hanged back to back. ~ Truman Capote

You look…exactly the same."
Gulp. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? "I do?" I get up on my tiptoes. "I think I've grown at least an inch since eighth grade." And my boobs are at least a little bigger. Not much. Not that I want John to notice--I'm just saying.
"No, you look…just like how I remembered you." John Ambrose reaches out, and I think he's trying to hug me but he's only trying to take my bag from me, and there's a brief but strange dance that mortifies me but he doesn't seem to notice. "So thanks for inviting me."
"Thanks for coming."
"Do you want me to take this stuff up for you?"
"Sure," I say.
John takes the bag from me and looks inside. "Oh, wow. All of our old snacks! Why don't you climb up first and I'll pass it to you." So that's what I do: I scramble up the ladder and he climbs up behind me. I'm crouched, arms outstretched, waiting for him to pass me the bag.
But when he gets halfway up the ladder, he stops and looks up at me and says, "You still wear your hair in fancy braids."
I touch my side braid. Of all the things to remember about me. Back then, Margot was the one who braided my hair. "You think it looks fancy?"
"Yeah. Like…expensive bread."
I burst out laughing. "Bread!"
"Yeah. Or…Rapunzel."
I get down on my stomach, wriggle over to the edge, and pretend like I'm letting down my hair for him to climb. He climbs up to the top of the ladder and passes me the bag, which I take, and then he grin ~ Jenny Han

Well how many troubles should equal a legitimate reason for self-mutilation? Ten? Twenty? One hundred? And how monumental must these troubles be? There's probably no critical mass beyond which cutting yourself would ever seem to most people like a reasonable choice. I cut because it did look that way to me. I cut because something had to give. I cut because the alternatives were worse. ~ Caroline Kettlewell

You haven't lost Iraki, you know. I don't know if it helps to say that. I lost a friend once myself, and I know how it goes.
'He'll find his way inside you, and you'll carry him onward. Behind your heartbeat, you'll hear another one, faint and out of step. People will say you are speaking his opinions, or your hair has turned like his.
'There are no more facts about him, that part is over. Now is the time for essential things. You'll see visions of him wherever you go. You'll see his eyes so moist, his intentions so blinding, you'll think he is more alive than you. You will look around and wonder if it was you who died.
'Gradually you'll grow older than him, and love him as your son.
'In the future, you'll live astride the line separating life from death. You'll become experienced in the wisdom of grief. You won't wait until people die to grieve for them. You'll give them their grief while they are still alive, for then judgement falls away, and there remains only the miracle of being.' ~ Rana Dasgupta

There are some groups that for years and years have not gotten the rights that the majority of human beings have, and it's important to continue to draw these parallels so that when we think about our future we can change some of the lives of people who love differently than we do, look different than we do, who come from a different class. It's all about bringing awareness to how important it is to be accepting of people, and there will be oppression if one group thinks they're more important or superior. ~ Janelle Monae

My feelings about Das Kapital are the same as my feelings about the Koran. I know that it is historically important and I know that many people, not all of whom are idiots, find it a sort of Rock of Ages and containing inspiration. Yet when I look into it, it is to me inexplicable that it can have this effect. Its dreary, out-of-date, academic controversialising seems so extraordinarily unsuitable as material for the purpose … How could either of these books carry fire and sword round half the world? It beats me. [writing to George Bernard Shaw] ~ John Maynard Keynes

What's the kindest thing you almost did? Is your fear of insomnia stronger than your fear of what awoke you? Are bonsai cruel? Do you love what you love, or just the feeling? Your earliest memories: do you look though your young eyes, or look at your young self? Which feels worse: to know that there are people who do more with less talent, or that there are people with more talent? Do you walk on moving walkways?

Should it make any difference that you knew it was wrong as you were doing it? Would you trade actual intelligence for the perception of being smarter? Why does it bother you when someone at the next table is having a conversation on a cell phone? How many years of your life would you trade for the greatest month of your life? What would you tell your father, if it were possible? Which is changing faster, your body, or your mind? Is it cruel to tell an old person his prognosis?

Are you in any way angry at your phone? When you pass a storefront, do you look at what's inside, look at your reflection, or neither? Is there anything you would die for if no one could ever know you died for it? If you could be assured that money wouldn't make you any small bit happier, would you still want more money? What has been irrevocably spoiled for you?

If your deepest secret became public, would you be forgiven? Is your best friend your kindest friend? Is it any way cruel to give a dog a name? Is there anything you feel a need to confess? You know it ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

It seems like everyone these days is putting on a mask to feel beautiful, trying to fit into some pre-established norms of how we should look. This isn't only painful, it's ignorant. Saying like we know, better than nature does, what is beautiful and what is not is like a two-year-old lecturing an old man about patience. Nature's been creating beauty for millennia and you are part of that creation process. Stop the madness. Stop fighting who you are. Let the mask fall. It'll be strange at first, yes. But, over time, you'll see beyond the temporary discomfort of stepping outside social norms and learn to see the beauty you were born with, the beauty you've been taught to ignore and cover up. You'll see beauty that will take your breath away, like a sunset. That's how beautiful you are - like a sunset, like a forest, like a million fireflies on a calm warm night lighting up the sky. You are made by nature. Nature is wiser in the ways of beauty than cosmetics companies or magazines. Break the spell. Gain back your sanity. Go find that brilliant beauty within every single part of you. Go find the universe in your eyes. Remove that cloak that's been pulled over your eyes and see yourself for who you really are. ~ Vironika Tugaleva

An actor stands in front of a camera onstage, and he controls time and space for the audience. He tells them how long this will take, where to look, when to look, what to think about it. And good performers should be able to do their part with the sound off. ~ John Michael Higgins

As I look back on my fondness for the outdoors, and specifically the elements in nature that I find visually stimulating, I am surprised at how often the theme of dead trees arise. I guess it's that each one seems to have a story of its own, representing many years of living through everything that nature could throw at them. ~ Cory Trepanier

Don't forget to be specific…Details. Put in all the details. The boys appreciate all that detailed daily life sh*t they don't get anymore. If you've got a teacher you're hot for, tell 'em what her hair looks like, what her legs look like, what she eats for lunch. If she's teaching you geometry, tell 'em how she draws a bloody triangle on the blackboard. If you went down the shop for a bag of sweets yesterday, did you ride your pushee? Did you go by foot? Did you see a rainbow along the way? Did you buy gobstoppers or clinkers or caramels? If you had a good meat pie last week was it steak and peas or curry or mushroom and beef? You catchin' my drift? Details. ~ Trent Dalton

Abandoned by a God in whom many of us believed, we lay prostrate and dazed in our demi-tomb. From time to time, one of us would look over the parapet to stare across the dusty plain into the east, from which death might bear down on us at any moment. We felt like lost souls, who had forgotten that men are made for something else, that time exists, and hope, and sentiments other than anguish; that friendship can be more than ephemeral, that love can sometimes occur, that the earth can be productive, and used for something other than burying the dead. ~ Guy Sajer

Thanks, Mom. Thanks for making me try out for this play.'

I think I might have just made being a mother totally worthwhile for her.

I will try to never forget her face...Mom's got tears in her eyes and she's smiling. It's an amazing look.

I have to remember how powerful it can be to say thank you.

Especially to the people you live with. ~ Holly Goldberg Sloan

Everybody enjoys what feels good. Everyone wants to live a carefree, happy, and easy life, to fall in love and have amazing sex and relationships, to look perfect and make money and be popular and well-respected and admired and a total baller to the point that people part like the Red Sea when they walk into the room. Everybody wants that. It's easy to want that. A more interesting question, a question that most people never consider, is, "What pain do you want in your life? What are you willing to struggle for?" Because that seems to be a greater determinant of how our lives turn out. For ~ Mark Manson

Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there's no place you'd rather be. Kiss her but not like you're waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like you've forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you're the brightest thing she's ever seen. Kiss her like she's the brightest thing you've ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you're ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer. ~ Azra Tabassum

You will meet plenty of people who are pretty but haven't yet learned how to be beautiful. They will have the right look for the times but they will not glow. Beautiful women glow. When you are with a beautiful women you might not notice her hair or skin or body or clothes, because you'll be distracted by the way she makes you feel. She will be so full of beauty that you will feel some of it overflow onto you. You'll feel warm and safe and curious around her. Her eyes will twinkle a little and she'll look at you really closely, because beautiful wise women know that the quickest way to fill up with beauty is to soak in another human being. Women who are concerned with being pretty think about what they look like, but women who are concerned with being beautiful think about what they're looking at. ~ Glennon Doyle Melton

I was, after the breakup, what you call a complete wreck. For the first time in my life, my pain had a focus. Any I just couldn't help myself. I didn't care what anyone thought, I didn't care that all the girls in school would say, See, he finally got wise, I didn't care how stupid I would look with teary mascara stains and purple eyeliner tracks down my cheeks, I didn't care about anything except how this was the worst pain ever. I used to weep for never having anything worth losing, but now I was simply resplendent--puffy, red, hysterical-- with a loss I could identify completely. I felt justified in my sorrow and I couldn't stand the way everything about Zachary seemed to be everywhere: Every staircase we'd necked on and lounge chair we'd chatted on between classes was redolent with memories of him. My God, even the lint that gathered on my clothing and still hadn't come out in the wash reminded me of Zachary. I would burst into tears in class and not bother to excuse myself. I cried on the subway. One day, I got mugged walking to the subway, and figured it was as good an excuse as any to go home and stay there. ~ Elizabeth Wurtzel

I'm sorry," he said in a soft voice while leaning closer to her, "for taking liberties earlier. I hope I didn't offend you."

"You kissed me," she answered, equally quietly, then laughed out loud. "I was a little shocked at first, perhaps, but I'm over it."

"Over it?" His heart sank. Not the reaction he'd hoped. Perhaps he was out of practice.

"I rather enjoyed it, if you must know. It has been a long time since I've had such a kiss. Nothing like a bold and lingering kiss. How I've missed it. Ah, now you look shocked. Good. I've had my revenge. ~ Sherri Browning

So, maybe we need to let go of solutions for a while and look instead at how we're trying to reach them. If simply striving for a happier life were the answer, wouldn't it have worked by now? ~ Ed Halliwell

My point is, or should be, simple: history happened. The object is not to undo it, distort it, or to make it fit our present political attitudes. The object of history, which each generation properly interprets anew, is to understand what happened and why. A multicultural Canada can and should look at its past with fresh eyes. It should, for example, study how the Ukrainians came to Canada, how they were treated, how they lived, sometimes suffered, ultimately prospered, and became Canadians. What historians should not do is to recreate history to make it serve present purposes. They should not obscure or reshape events to make them fit political agendas. They should not declare whole areas of the past off-limits because they can only be presented in politically unfashionable terms any more than they should fail to draw object lessons from a past that was frequently less than pleasant and less than honourable. Because the past was not perfect, it must not be made perfect today. ~ J.L. Granatstein

I looked at him like a stranger, someone I'd never seen before, and he looked at me like I'd been lost to him for a thousand years and finally found. ~ Emme Rollins

I still stared at Daemon, completely aware that everyone else except him was watching me. Closely. But why wouldn't he look at me? A razor-sharp panic clawed at my insides. No. This couldn't be happening. No way.

My body was moving before I even knew what I was doing.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Dee shake her head and one of the Luxen males step forward, but I was propelled by an inherent need to prove that my worst fears were not coming true.

After all, he'd healed me, but then I thought of what Dee had said, of how Dee had behaved with me. What if Daemon was like her? Turned into something so foreign and cold? He would've healed me just to make sure he was okay.

I still didn't stop.
 Please, I thought over and over again. Please. Please. Please. On shaky legs, I crossed the long room, and even though Daemon hadn't seemed to even acknowledge my existence, I walked right up to him, my hands trembling as I placed them on his chest.

"Daemon?" I whispered, voice thick.

His head whipped around, and he was suddenly staring down at me. Our gazes collided once more, and for a second I saw something so raw, so painful in those beautiful eyes. And then his large hands wrapped around my upper arms. The contact seared through the shirt I wore, branding my skin, and I thought - I expected - that he would pull me against him, that he would embrace me, and even though nothing would be all right, it would be better.

Jennifer L. Armentrout

Clothes matter," he said, draping the vest over his arm and reaching for a pile of neatly folded blouses. "Clothes are part of how you learn to feel like yourself, and not someone who just happens to look like you. Don't you remember what it was like when someone else decided what you were going to wear? ~ Seanan McGuire

I like it too," Angelo said. "I love this country. Much you and anybody, and you know it."

"I know it," Prew said.

"But I still hate this country. You love the Army. But I dont love the Army. This country's Army is why I hate this country. What did this country ever do for me? Gimme a right to vote for men I cant elect? You can have it. Gimme a right to work at a job I hate? You can have that too. Then tell I'm a Citizen of the greatest richest country on earth, if I dont believe it look at Park Avenue. Carnival prizes. All carnival prizes. [..] They shouldnt teach their immigrants' kids all about democracy unless they mean to let them have a little bit of it, it ony makes for trouble. Me and the United States is dissociating our alliance as of right now, until the United States can find time to read its own textbooks a little."

Prew thought, a little sickly, of the little book, The Man Without A Country that his mother used to read to him so often, and how the stern patriotic judge condemned the man to live on a warship where no one could ever mention home to him the rest of his whole life, and how he had always felt that pinpoint of pleased righteous anger at seeing the traitor get what he deserved. ~ James Jones

We were magical and alive - we cared about music and conversation, sex and spit and blood, holding on tight to the space between youth and adulthood. When I look back at that time, my nostalgia can be blinding. Because we weren't night dwellers, vampires who would live forever. We were a bunch of kids playing at being Lost Boys, looking for our version of Neverland. ~ Tanya Marquardt

Q: Yet, I cannot see how can anything come to be without a cause.

M: When I say a thing is without a cause, I mean it can be with-out a particular cause. Your own mother was needed to give you birth; But you could not have been born without the sun and the earth. Even these could not have caused your birth without your own desire to be born. It is desire that gives birth, that gives name and form. The desirable is imagined and wanted and manifests itself as something tangible or con-ceivable. Thus is created the world in which we live, our personal world. The real world is beyond the mind's ken; we see it through the net of our desires, divided into pleasure and pain, right and wrong, inner and outer. To see the universe as it is, you must step beyond the net. It is not hard to do so, for the net is full of holes.

Q: What do you mean by holes? And how to find them?

M: Look at the net and its many contradictions. You do and undo at every step. You want peace, love, happiness and work hard to create pain, hatred and war. You want longevity and overeat, you want friendship and exploit. See your net as made of such contradictions and remove them -- *your very seeing them will make them go* ~ Nisargadatta Maharaj

I don't think you could teach someone to be a genius, but you can certainly teach them to not make rookie mistakes and to look at writing the way a writer looks at writing, and not just the way a reader looks at writing. There are a lot of techniques and skills that can be taught that will be helpful to anybody, no matter how gifted they are, and I think writing programs can be very good for people. ~ Michael Chabon

One more time. I'm - not - yours. And hitting Cade like that was so . . . so wrong! You could have killed him!"
"Do you want me tae?"
She started away. "I'm going to check on him - "
"Then you do want me tae!" He raised her elbow and spun her around, a wild look in his eyes. His shirt was ripped almost free, displaying his sheening chest, still heaving from the battle. "This is a vulnerable time. I have no' claimed you, and the full moon nears. Yet you receive the attentions of another male? Witch, you play with fire!" He swiped the back of his hand over his bleeding temple. "Forget the demon. He knows you're no' his. If he'd truly believed you were, he would have put up more of a fight. He dinna even hit a rage state."
"You didn't change to your werewolf form for me!"
"I dinna want you to see it!" he roared, grasping her upper arms. "Doona ever doubt my desire for you - if I truly was in a contest for the right to have you, I'd have bitten his goddamned throat free, then laid it at your feet in offer!"
Her lips parted. She thought she'd just caught a glimpse of the inner workings of how a Lykae male thought.
And she . . . liked it. ~ Kresley Cole