I See What You Did There Quotes

The rocking of the deck beneath his feet made his stomach heave, and the wretched food tasted even worse when retched back up. ~ George R R Martin

I have had it with these dumb cakes on this dumb spaceship! ~ Philip Reeve

That's coral!" she cried in astonishment. "We must be down in the deeps of the sea!"
Well, wasn't that what you wanted?" said the trout. "I thought you wished you could see the sea!"
I did," said Jane, looking very surprised. "But I never expected the wish to come true."
Great oceans! Why bother to wish it then? I call that simply a waste of time. But come on! Mustn't be late for the party! ~ P.L. Travers

I use African-American, because I teach African Studies as well as African-American Studies, so it's easy, neat and convenient. But sometimes, when you're in a barber shop, somebody'll say, "Did you see what that Negro did?" A lot of people slip in and out of different terms effortlessly, and I don't think the thought police should be on patrol. ~ Henry Louis Gates

He said, "You misunderstand. We did not kill the nuggies and the other folk hereabouts. They see us, and then they commonly die."
"Of what?" I asked.
"Of embarrassment. ~ Harry Turtledove

Missouri would have convinced you that we did not exist if it were not for social media. The intensity with which they responded to protestors very early - we were able to document that and share it quickly with people in a way that we never could have without social media. We were able to tell our own stories. The history of blackness is also a history of erasure. Everybody has told the story of black people in struggle except black people. The black people in the struggle haven't had the means to tell the story historically. There were a million slaves but you see very few slave narratives. And that is intentional. So what was powerful in the context of Ferguson is that there were many people able to tell their story as the story unfolded. ~ Anonymous

Hopefully not another employee stealing credit cards, Brooke mused. Or any sort of headache-inducing "oops moment," like the time one of the restaurant managers called to ask if he could fire a line cook after discovering that the man was a convicted murderer.

"Jeez. How'd you learn that?" Brooke had asked.

"He made a joke to one of the waiters about honing his cooking skills in prison. The waiter asked what he'd been serving time for, and he said, 'Murder.'"

"I bet that put an end to the conversation real fast. And yes, you can fire him," Brooke had said.

"Obviously, he lied on his employment application." All of Sterling's employees, regardless of job position, were required to answer whether they'd ever been convicted of a crime involving "violence, deceit, or theft." Pretty safe to say that murder qualified.

Ten minutes later, the manager had called her back.
"Um . . . what if he didn't exactly lie? I just double-checked his application, and as it turns out, he did check the box for having been convicted of a crime."

Brooke had paused at that. "And then the next question, where we ask what crime he'd been convicted for, what did he write?"

"Uh . . . 'second-degree murder.'"

"I see. Just a crazy suggestion here, Cory, but you might want to start reading these applications a little more closely before making employment offers."

"Please don't fire me. ~ Julie James

Jamie used the time away from me to do some soul-searching. She finally also did something she'd thought about for a long time. She walked into an Army recruitment office in Nashville and joined the military. She didn't discuss it with me beforehand. Instead she called and said, "I'm joining the Army. It's active duty and I'm going to be a truck driver with an airborne contract." Shocked, I blurted out, "You're going to do what? No you're not."
"What do you mean? I'm gonna be a truck driver in a convoy." I knew she was referring to a seventies country song she likes. Only this wasn't a country song, this was real life.
"Are you crazy? This is not a game. You will hate being a truck driver. You don't even know if you'll like being in the military. Go National Guard or Reserves and see if you like it."
"They said I'm already in. Basic is not for another few months but I'm in and I can't change it."
"Yes you can. You are not in yet. You are not in the military. That was just a recruiter telling you that. Why aren't you going in as an officer? You have a degree. You can make more money."
She seemed annoyed that I was raining on her parade, but I think it was also dawning on her that maybe I was right and she hadn't done the research.
"They told me that it's not really that much more."
I explained to her, "They are lying to you. It is a lot more."
I had no problem with her joining the military. If that's what she wanted to do, I supported it ~ Noah Galloway

I don't know if I've learned anything yet! I did learn how to have a happy home, but I consider myself fortunate in that regard because I could've rolled right by it. Everybody has a superficial side and a deep side, but this culture doesn't place much value on depth - we don't have shamans or soothsayers, and depth isn't encouraged or understood. Surrounded by this shallow, glossy society we develop a shallow side, too, and we become attracted to fluff. That's reflected in the fact that this culture sets up an addiction to romance based on insecurity - the uncertainty of whether or not you're truly united with the object of your obsession is the rush people get hooked on. I've seen this pattern so much in myself and my friends and some people never get off that line.
But along with developing my superficial side, I always nurtured a deeper longing, so even when I was falling into the trap of that other kind of love, I was hip to what I was doing. I recently read an article in Esquire magazine called 'The End of Sex,' that said something that struck me as very true. It said: "If you want endless repetition, see a lot of different people. If you want infinite variety, stay with one." What happens when you date is you run all your best moves and tell all your best stories - and in a way, that routine is a method for falling in love with yourself over and over.
You can't do that with a longtime mate because he knows all that old material. With a long relationship ~ Joni Mitchell

Mikhail had come striding towards us with guardian efficiency, ready to find out what task I had in mind. He came to a screeching halt when he saw Sonya get out of the car. So did she. They both stood frozen, eyes wider that seemed physically possible. I knew then that the rest of us had ceased to exist, as had all our intrigue, missions, and ... well, the world. In that moment, only the two of them existed.
Sonya gave a strangled cry and then ran forward. This jolted him awake, in time to wrap her in his arms as she threw herself against him. She started crying, and I could see tears on his face too. He brushed her back and cupped her cheeks, staring down at her and repeating over and over, "It's you ... it's you ... it's you ... "
Sonya tried to wipe her eyes, but it didn't do much good. "Mikhail -I'm sorry-I'm sorry-"
"It doesn't matter." he kissed her and pulled back only enough to look into her eyes. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except that we're together again. ~ Richelle Mead

A great deal of what I say just leaves me open, I suppose, to a vast amount of misunderstanding. A great deal of what I say is based on an assumption which I hold and don't always state. You know my fury about people is based precisely on the fact that I consider them to be responsible, moral creatures who so often do not act that way. But I am not surprised when they do. I am not that wretched a pessimist, and I wouldn't sound the way I sound if I did not expect what I expect from human beings, if I didn't have some ultimate faith and love, faith in them and love for them. You see, I am a human being too, and I have no right to stand in judgment of the world as though I am not a part of it. What I am demanding of other people is what I am demanding of myself. ~ James Baldwin

When is Tawny's birthday?" Cooper asked.
"In November."
"And yours was in January?"
Frowning at him, I didn't answer.
Cooper finally grinned at my irritation. "I did my homework on you. Hoped your birthday was coming up so I could do something big and romantic. You chicks love that crap."
"Oh, we really do," I said, smiling now as I ate my salad. "When's your birthday?"
"Beginning of December. I'm a Sag," he said, as if I should be impressed. "What will you give me for my birthday?"
"Probably something with me naked. Well, assuming I haven't grown bored of you by then."
Leaning back in his chair, Cooper smiled. "I like the way you say naked. Makes me think of you naked."
"Big shock."
"I really want to see that."
"Well, let's see how dinner goes first. ~ Bijou Hunter

All the same," I said, "when you read the prints in the snow and the evidence of the branches, you did not yet know Brunellus. In a certain sense those prints spoke of all horses, or at least all horses of that breed. Mustn't we say, then, that the book of nature speaks to us only of essences, as many distinguished theologians teach?"
"Not entirely, dear Adso," my master replied. "True, that kind of print expressed to me, if you like, the idea of 'horse,' the verbum mentis, and would have expressed the same to me wherever I might have found it. But the print in that place and at that hour of the day told me that at least one of all possible horses had passed that way. So I found myself halfway between the perception of the concept 'horse' and the knowledge of an individu?al horse. And in any case, what I knew of the universal horse had been given me by those traces, which were singular. I could say I was caught at that moment between the singularity of the traces and my ignorance, which assumed the quite diaphanous form of a univer?sal idea. If you see something from a distance, and you do not understand what it is, you will be content with defining it as a body of some dimension. When you come closer, you will then define it as an animal, even if you do not yet know whether it is a horse or an ass. And finally, when it is still closer, you will be able to say it is a horse even if you do not yet know whether it is Brunellus or Niger. And only when you are at the proper ~ Umberto Eco

Give me your hands," I said.
I studied his palms. "Yes, she'll forgive you. She'll realize you saved her."
"You're a palm reader now?"
"Yes."
"When did you learn how to do that?"
"While you were sleeping."
"I waste so much time sleeping. What else do you see?"
"I see food. Max is going to bring food."
"Do you see cake?"
"No, no cake."
"Let me see your hands," he said.
I raised an eyebrow.
"I learned while you were talking." He studied my palms. "Your scars cross over the lines in your hands, like you have two lives... One to mess up and one to get right."
"That's convenient. What else do you see?"
"I see you happy," he said.
"Yeah?" I asked.
He nodded. "And I see you."
My fingers itched to reach out and touch his face, to make sure I'd still know him in the dark.
"I see you, too," I said. ~ Shalanda Stanley

So you want to turn around? Give up on the chance of having him back?"
Oscar took a swig of his canteen, then capped it. He held her stare. "I just want you alive."
Camille glanced toward Ira. He sat far enough away to hear just the murmur of their voices. This was her only opportunity to clean up after the messy scene in the pantry. Where to begin baffled her. The cold manner in which they were now acting made it difficult to believe Oscar had held her so lovingly, her body curled into his. She'd felt his hot breath on her shoulder as he dipped into sleep and out again to bury his nose in her hair or race her scar from the Christina with his finger. Camille had never wanted to leave that bed.
"I don't love him," she said with little fanfare. Plain. Simple. The truth. "He's a decent man, and things would be easier if I did love him. But I want what only you can give me, Oscar."
She couldn't imagine feeling warm and safe and loved in Randall's arms the way she had in Oscar's. She didn't know what would happen once her father returned to them or how he'd react. Right then, it didn't matter.
"Good night, then," she said when he remained quiet. Camille turned onto her other side, away from the fire. The immediate cold lashed at her. A moment passed before she heard the scrape of his boots on the ground. His footsteps rounded the fire. Without saying a word, he lay down beside her. Oscar pulled her close to him without checking to see if Ira was watching.< ~ Angie Frazier

Before she knew it the afternoon was done, and the trainees were taking their new mounts to the stables for grooming. Daine, Onua, Buri, and Sarge helped then too, though Daine couldn't see how she could ever be comfortable telling a twenty-year-old man he was missing spots on the pony he was grooming. She did try it: "Excuse me, trainee what did you say your name was?"
Blue gray eyes twinkled at her over his cream-colored mare's back.
"I didn't. It's Farant. "
His blond hair curled thickly over his head, almost matching the pony's in color.
"Thank you. Trainee Farant, you're missing spots. "
"Not at all, sweetheart. I'm just combing too fast for you to see. " "Trainee Farant, you're missing spots!" Sarge boomed just behind Daine. She thought later she actually might have levitated at that moment certainly Farant had. Next time the assistant horsemistress tells you something, don't flirt correct it!" He moved on, and Daine pressed her hands against her burning cheeks. Farant leaned on his mare and sighed.
"Yes, Assistant Horsemistress. Right away. " He winked at her and went back to work. Daine went to Sarge as the trainees were finishing up.
"Sarge, I-" He shook his head. Daine thought if he leaned against the stable wall any harder, it would collapse. How did a human, without bear blood in him, get to be so large?
"Not your fault. These city boys see you, you're young, sweet-lookin'",he winked at her,"they're gonna try to take ~ Tamora Pierce

When other girls had tea parties on the playground, I brought out my secondhand Ouija board and attempted to raise the dead. While my classmates gave book reports on The Wind In The Willows or Charlotte's Web, I did mine on tattered, paperback copies of Stephen King novels that I'd borrowed from my grandmother. Instead of Sweet Valley High, I read books about zombies and vampires. Eventually, my third grade teacher called my mother in to discuss her growing concerns over my behavior, and my mom nodded blithely, but failed to see what the problem was. When Mrs. Johnson handed her my recent book report on Pet Sematary,, my mom wrinkled her forehead with concern and disapproval. "Oh, I see,"she said disappointingly, as she turned to me. "You spelled 'cemetery' wrong." Then I explained that Stephen King had spelled it that way on purpose, and she nodded, saying, "Ah. Well, good enough for me. ~ Jenny Lawson

As the carriage rolled under the Institute's gates, James saw his parents standing in the courtyard.
"And where have you been?" Will demanded as James clambered out of the carriage. The others leaped down behind him, the girls, being in gear, needing no help to dismount. "You stole our carriage."
James wished he could tell his father the truth, but that would be breaking their sworn promise to Ragnor.
"It's only the second-best carriage," James protested.
"Remember when Papa stole Uncle Gabriel's carriage? It's a proud family tradition," said Lucie, as the group of them approached the Institute steps.
"I did not raise you to be horse thieves and scallywags," said Will. "And I recall very clearly that I told you - "
"Thank you for letting them borrow the carriage to come and get me," said Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, and she looked entirely innocent. James felt an amused stab of surprise: she was an interestingly skilful liar. "I had very much wanted to come to the Institute and see what I could do to help."
Will softened immediately. "Of course. You are always welcome here, Cordelia. ~ Cassandra Clare

I said, "Jesse, don't flatter yourself that I did this for you. I mean, it has been nothing but one giant pain in the neck, having you for a roommate. Do you think I like having to come home from school or from work or whatever and having to explain stuff like the Bay of Pigs to you? Believe me, life with you is no picnic."
He didn't say anything. He just kept pulling me along.
"Or what about Tad?" I said, bringing up what I knew was a sore subject. "I mean, you think I like having you tag along on my dates? Having you out of my life is going to make things a lot simpler, so don't think, you know, I did this for you. I only did it because that stupid cat of yours has been crying its head off. And also because anything I can do to make your stupid girlfriend mad, I will."
"Nombre de Dios, Susannah," Jesse muttered. "Maria's not my girlfriend."
"Well, she certainly used to be," I said. "And what about that, anyway? That girl is a full-on skank, Jesse. I can't believe you ever agreed to marry her. I mean, what were you thinking, anyway? Couldn't you see what she was like underneath all that lace? ~ Meg Cabot

How could anyone love Him? What did you just tell me yourself about the world? Don't you see, everybody hates God now. It's not that God is dead in the twentieth century. It's that everybody hates Him! At least I think so. ~ Anne Rice

[Short Talk on Sylvia Plath] Did you see her mother on television? She said plain, burned things. She said I thought it an excellent poem but it hurt me. She did not say jungle fear. She did not say jungle hatred wild jungle weeping chop it back chop it. She said self-government she said end of the road. She did not say humming in the middle of the air what you came for chop. ~ Anne Carson

But you said you did not love our father. How can you have faith in him if you didn't love him?"
"Maybe that's the reason," Adam said slowly, feeling his way. "Maybe if I had loved him I would have been jealous of him. You were. Maybe - maybe love makes you suspicious and doubting. Is it true that when you love a woman you are never sure - never sure of her because you aren't sure of yourself? I can see it pretty clearly. I can see how you loved him and what it did to you. I did not love him. Maybe he loved me. He tested me and hurt me and punished me and finally he sent me out like a sacrifice, maybe to make up for something. But he did not love you, and so he had faith in you. Maybe - why, maybe it's a kind of reverse. ~ John Steinbeck

What do you know of love or marriage?" I asked. "You were all set to marry a woman ten years older than you before the King stole her away."
"I wouldn't have married her anyway," Loki shrugged. "Not if I didn't love her."
"Now you've got integrity?" I scoffed. "You kidnapped me, and your father was a traitor."
"I've never said a nice word about my father," Loki said quickly. "And I've never done anything bad to you."
"You still kidnapped me!" I said dubiously.
"Did I?" Loki cocked his head. "Because I remember Kyra kidnapping you,and me preventing her from pummeling you to death. Then,when you were coughing up blood, I sent for the Queen to help you. When you escaped,I didn't stop you. And since I came here,I've done nothing to you. I've even been good because you told me to be. So what terrible crimes have I committed against you, Princess?"
"I-I-" I stammered. "I never said you did anything terrible."
"Then why don't you trust me, Wendy?"
He'd never called me by my name before, and the underlying affection underneath it startled me. Even his eyes, which still held their usual veil of playfulness, had something deeper brewing underneath. When he wasn't trying so hard to be devilishly handsome, he actually was.
The growing connection I felt with him unnerved me, but I didn't want him to see that. More than that,it didn't matter what feelings I might be having for him.He was leaving today, and I would probably never see him again.Amanda Hocking