Quotes About I Used To Look Up To You
Enjoy collection of 41 I Used To Look Up To You quotes. Download and share images of famous quotes about I Used To Look Up To You. Righ click to see and save pictures of I Used To Look Up To You quotes that you can use as your wallpaper for free.
If You Are Feeling Blue, Try To Paint The Sky With It. When Its Done, Look At It And Then Definitely The Golden Sun Will Come Out From You To Brighten Up Your Entire Day ... ~ Muhammad Imran Hasan
Do you know how far the wall is from the mines?" He gave her blank look. She closed her eyes and sighed dramatically. "From my shaft, it was three hundred sixty-three feet. I had someone measure."
"So?" Dorian repeated.
"Captain Westfall, how far do slaves make it from the mines when they try to escape?"
"Three feet," he muttered. "Endovier sentries usually shoot a man down before he's moved three feet."
The Crown Prince's silence was not her desired effect. "You knew it was suicide," he said at last, the amusement gone.
Perhaps it had been a bad idea to bring up the wall.
"Yes."
...
"I never intended to escape. ~ Sarah J. Maas
Did you know that when the baby starts moving that it's called the quickening?" Hope says.
I snicker. "So she's going to burst out of my stomach with a sword declaring there can be only one?"
"Possibly. Women have died in childbirth, right? The baby is essentially a parasite. It lives off your nutrients, saps your energy." She taps the bottom of a hanger against her lip. "So yeah, I think the Highlander motto could fit."
Carin and I look at her in horror. "Hopeless, you can shut up any time now," Carin orders.
"I was just saying, from a medical standpoint, it's a possible theory. Not here, but maybe in other less developed nations." She reaches over and pats my belly. "Don't worry. You're safe. You should've gotten more maternity clothes," she says, moving on to another topic while I'm still digesting that my baby is a parasite. ~ Elle Kennedy
The ethic of ecstasy is the opposite of the trial's ethic; under its protection everybody does whatever he wants: now anyone can suck his thumb as he likes, from infancy to graduation, and it is a freedom no one will be willing to give up; look around you on the Metro; seated or standing, every single person has a finger in some orifice of his face-in the ear, in the mouth, in the nose; no one feels he's being observed, and everyone dreams of writing a book to tell about his unique and inimitable self, which is picking its nose; no one listens to anyone else, everyone writes, and each of them writes the way rock is danced to: alone, for himself, focused on himself yet making the same motions as all the others. In this situation of uniform egocentricity, the sense of guilt does not play the role it once did; the tribunals still operate, but they are fascinated exclusively by the past; they see only the core of the century; they see only the generations that are old or dead. ~ Milan Kundera
The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect, over the fire, abhors you and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath toward you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes, than the most hateful enormous serpent is in ours. ~ Jonathan Edwards
Cheap heroism is always easy, and even to sacrifice life is easy too; because it is only a case of hot blood and an overflow of energy, and there is such a longing for what is beautiful! No, take the deed of heroism that is labourious, obscure, without noise or flourish, slandered, in which there is a great deal of sacrifice and not one grain of glory - in which you, a splendid man, are made to look like a scoundrel before every one, though you might be the most honest man in the world - you try that sort of heroism and you'll soon give it up! While I - have been bearing the burden of that all my life. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky
He stared at me. "She liked you, boy." The intensity of his voice and eyes made me blink.
"Yes," I said.
"She did it for you, you know."
"What?"
"Gave up her self, for a while there. She loved you that much. What an incredibly lucky kid you were."
I could not look at him. "I know."
He shook his head with a wistful sadness. "No, you don't. You can't know yet. Maybe someday ... "
I knew he was tempted to say more. Probably to tell me how stupid I was, how cowardly, that I blew the best
chance I would ever have. But his smile returned, and his eyes were tender again, and nothing harsher
than cherry smoke came out of his mouth. ~ Jerry Spinelli
Back at my parents', Mum was waiting with a muffin for me. 'Banana and pecan. I know it's the wrong colour but would you try it? Are you okay?' she asked. 'You look a bit …'
'Grand,' I said. 'It's just the clouds. When it's overcast like this, it does my head in.'
A strange expression passed over her face. 'The sky is blue.'
I took a look out of the window; the sky was blue. 'When did that happen?'
'It's been blue all morning.'
But it didn't make things any better. I was still uneasy, just in a different way. The empty sky looked hard and cold and merciless. Couldn't they have put in some clouds to soften it up a bit? ~ Marian Keyes
Always look up! Every time I step out-side, that's the first thing I do. Ask your-self, "what star is that?", grab a star chart and try to figure it out. That is basically how I started. Learn your planets and learn how to distinguish them from the stars. Study star charts even during the day and that night, go and see if you can find them. You may surprise yourself! ~ Will Young
One day, I wish to find a man like in my
books. He has to be just like in one of my books.
And he has to love me, love me more than anything
in the world. Most important of all, he has
to think I'm beautiful."
"Lily, I need to tell you something." Fazire
was going to tell her about Becky's wish and his
mistake and let her look forward to something, let
her look forward to the incomparable beauty she
was going to be.
Most of all, he had to stop her wish now. He
didn't want her wasting it on some fool idea. He
wanted it to be special, perfect, to make her world
better like she had made Becky and Will's and,
indeed, his.
But again she didn't hear him. Her eyes were
bright and they were steady on his.
"He has to be tall, very tall and dark and
broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped."
Fazire stared. He didn't even know what
"narrow-hipped" meant.
"And he has to be handsome, unbelievably
handsome, impossibly handsome with a strong,
square jaw and powerful cheekbones and tanned
skin and beautiful eyes with lush, thick lashes.
He has to be clever and very wealthy but hardworking.
He has to be virile, fierce, ruthless and
rugged."
Now she was getting over his head. He didn't
think there was such a thing as impossibly handsome.
How cheekbones could be powerful,
Fazire didn't know. He was even thinking he
might have to look up "viril ~ Kristen Ashley
Leo's expression made him look as serious and dangerous as it was possible for a small elfin demigod to look in a little girl's overalls (a clean pair, mind you, which he'd intentionally found and put on). "I'm a son of Hephaestus, chica. I can problem-solve. This guy Lityerses tried to kill me and my friends once before. Now he's threatened Calypso? Yeah, I'll get us inside that palace. Then I'm going to find Lit and..."
"Light him up?" I suggested, surprised by pleased to find I could speak again so soon after being told to shut up. "So he's literally lit?"
Leo frowned. "I wasn't going to say that. Seemed to corny."
"When I say it," I assured him, "it's poetry. ~ Rick Riordan
I hope you are all having a nice sleep?' Franz ventured as he and Nigel sat down.
'Yes, fine thanks. You?' Laura replied.
'Ja, I am being able to sleep, despite my great hunger.' Franz gave them a serious look, obviously keen to stress the great hardship he was enduring. 'Have any of you seen a snack machine?'
Nigel sighed. 'Franz, we're going to breakfast in ten minutes, what do you need a snack machine for?'
'To be building up my energy levels for a long day of lessons, of course.' Franz gave Nigel a slap on the back that, judging by Nigel's pained expression, was a little overenthusiastic. 'And you will be needing building up too, my friend. Do not worry, Franz will turn you into a real man.' Otto noted the slightly frightened look on Nigel's face and guessed that he was less than keen to be the first person to try the Argentblum Diet.
'Anyway, why have vending machines when none of us have any money?' Otto asked. The apparent lack of any form of currency on H.I.V.E. was something that Otto had actually given a lot of thought. He had finally reached the conclusion that if money truly was the root of all evil it might just be adding fuel to the fire to introduce the concept to H.I.V.E.
'Ja, I have been thinking this too but I am hoping that the machines will be free of charge. That would be seeming sensible, ja?'
Otto doubted very much that the words 'free snack food vending machines' and 'sensible ~ Mark Walden
Well, I don't know," he starts, looking down and then up again, anywhere but at me. "Like, for example, your new clothes, it's like a whole new you. You dress more like those girls now."
"I just want to look nice!" I defend myself.
"No,not that that's a bad thing, Ricki Jo!" he says, glancing down at me and then back over his shoulder. "You look great. Really pretty, actually.Just, you didn't care before and you were still"-he stammers on-"y-you know...pretty. ~ Alecia Whitaker
I had to ice my face the rest of the weekend and my bruised nose made it look like I got in a fight. Going back to class on Monday wasn't any better."Hey, Red, how's the nose doing?" John plopped down in the seat next to me like he didn't have a care in the world.I glared forward, willing myself not to look at him.
"You're the one who put it there, so if you don't mind I would like to focus on the lecture since finals are coming up."The girls in front of us glanced over their shoulders, looks of disgust on their faces.I smirked. "Don't get ahead of yourself, ladies. I fell ice skating, he's not beating me or getting me involved in
some weird sex act."That got them to turn back around. "Since when does sex involve bruises?What kind of stuff are you into,Red? ~ J. Lynn
I smell you when you're nowhere near me. I feel you, without touching. When you walk into a room, I know you're there even before I look up. Every time I see you smile, I smile. Your happiness has become my happiness. Either I'm in love with you, or you really are my very own angel. Either way, we were meant to be. ~ Vi Keeland
Right then, Mel came into the bar, hung her jacket on the peg inside the door and jumped up on a stool in front of her husband, elbows on the bar, leaning toward him for a kiss. "Holy shit," one of the men said. "Look at that one. Talk about a doe I'd like to bag." Jack straightened before meeting his wife's lips. The look on his face wasn't a pretty one. "You know," Mike said, laughing uncomfortably, "about our women. You boys don't want to be giving the women around here any trouble. Trust me on this, okay?" That set up a round of hilarious laughter at the table of hunters and one of them said, unfortunately too loudly, "Maybe the girl wants to get bagged. I think we should at least ask her!" But oops - glancing over his shoulder, Mike saw Jack had heard that. And probably so had Mel. And after what those two had been through earlier in the summer, comments like that were not taken lightly. And ~ Robyn Carr
It's not that I'm complaining,' said Angua, 'but when we were assigned this job I thought it was me who was going to be the decoy and you who was going to be the back up, Nobby.'
'Yeah, but what with you bein' . . .' Nobby's expression creased as he edged his way into
unfamiliar linguistic territory, '... mor phor . . . log . . . is . . : ally gifted. . .'
'A werewolf, Nobby. I know the word.'
'Right . . . well, obviously, you'd be a lot better at lurkin', an' . . . an' obviously it's not right, women havin' to act as decoys in police work. . .'
Angua hesitated, as she so often did when attempting to talk to Nobby on difficult matters, and waved her hands in front of her as if trying to shape the invisible dough of her thoughts.
'It's just that . . . I mean, people might . . .' she began. 'I mean . . . well, you know what people call men who wear wigs and gowns, don't you?'
'Yes, miss.'
'You do?'
'Yes, miss. Lawyers, miss.'
'Good. Yes. Good,' said Angua slowly. 'Now try another one . . .'
'Er . . . actors, miss?'
Angua gave up. 'You look good in taffeta, Nobby,' she said.
'You don't think it makes me look too fat?'
Angua sniffed. 'Oh, no . . .' she said quietly. ~ Terry Pratchett
I don't want to go back into that dressing room and take off my boots and my pants and start putting on jeans only to discover that the ones you brought me are all too tight, and then when I ask for the next size up, be informed that they're the biggest size you carry. I can't take that today. Seriously, I'll blow my head off. So look at me, look at my ass, look at my gut, take it all in, and then tell me honestly if you anticipate we're going to have a problem. ~ Sarah Dunn
Brother I've been right where you are now
And my heart was broke
Cause I never spoke
Those healing words out loud
But I've learned my lesson well
And now every night
Before I close my eyes
I look at my woman and
I ask myself did you
Tell her that you love her
Tell her that you need her
Tell her that you want her to stay
Reassure her with a kiss
She may never know unless you
Show her what your feeling
Tell her you're believing
Even though it's hard to say
'Cause she needs to know you're thinking of her
So open up and tell her that you love her ~ Lonestar
Who's the boy who thinks he can mess with my men?" he demanded.
"Nobody," said the boy. "Just the King of Cats."
The words made the gang draw up short; obviously the title meant something to them, though Paris had never heard it before.
"It's a very simple situation," the boy went on. "You can join the Rooks and follow my orders without question. Or you can immediately decide that your territory starts east of here. Screaming as you run is optional."
Paris suspected that it would be a good time for him to scream and run, but the situation had a sort of awful fascination. The boy was definitely, absolutely mad, and they were both going to be pounded to death, and he couldn't look away.
"Or you can fight me over it," said the boy. "Care to wager your gang on a duel?"
The leader hesitated a moment; then he sneered, "So long as you fight fair."
"Nobody gets anything but what he earns from me ~ Rosamund Hodge
Do it for the kids! The ones who look up to you - especially when they are pleading for their lives." - Bats 2015 ~ Fred Barnett
But there is an unbounded pleasure to be had in the possession of a young, newly blossoming soul! It is like a flower, from which the best aroma evaporates when meeting the first ray of the sun; you must pluck it at that minute, breathing it in until you're satisfied, and then throw it onto the road: perhaps someone will pick it up! I feel this insatiable greed, which swallows everything it meets on its way. I look at the suffering and joy of others only in their relation to me, as though it is food that supports the strength of my soul. I myself am not capable of going mad under the influence of passion. My ambition is stifled by circumstances, but it has manifested itself in another way, for ambition is nothing other than a thirst for power, and my best pleasure is to subject everyone around me to my will, to arouse feelings of love, devotion and fear of me - is this not the first sign and the greatest triumph of power? Being someone's reason for suffering while not being in any position to claim the right - isn't this the sweetest nourishment for our pride? And what is happiness? Sated pride. If I considered myself to be better, more powerful than everyone in the world, I would be happy. If everyone loved me, I would find endless sources of love within myself. Evil spawns evil. The first experience of torture gives an understanding of the pleasure in tormenting others. An evil idea cannot enter a person's head without his wanting to bring it into reality: ideas are organic ~ Mikhail Lermontov
Just look up, You'll see everything you need to see ~ Dawn Johnston
You revolutionists' the other continued, with leisurely self-confidence, 'are the slaves of the social convention, which is afraid of you; slaves of it as much as the very police that stands up in the defence of that convention. Clearly you are, since you want to revolutionize it. It governs your action, too, and thus neither your thought nor your action can ever be conclusive. (...) 'You are not a bit better than the forces arrayed against you -- than the police, for instance. The other day I came suddenly upon Chief Inspector Heat at the corner of Tottenham Court Road. He looked at me very steadily. But I did not look at him. Why should I give him more than a glance ? He was thinking of many things -- of his superiors, of his reputation, of the law courts, of his salary, of newspapers -- of a hundred things. But I was thinking of my perfect detonator only. He meant nothing to me. He was as insignificant as -- I can't call to mind anything insignificant enough to compare him with -- except Karl Yundt perhaps. Like to like. The terrorist and the policeman both come from the same basket. Revolutions, legality -- counter moves in the same game; forms of idleness at bottom identical. He plays his little game -- so do you propagandists. ~ Joseph Conrad
The problem is that white people see racism as conscious hate, when racism is bigger than that. Racism is a complex system of social and political levers and pulleys set up generations ago to continue working on the behalf of whites at other people's expense, whether whites know/like it or not. Racism is an insidious cultural disease. It is so insidious that it doesn't care if you are a white person who likes Black people; it's still going to find a way to infect how you deal with people who don't look like you. ~ Scott Woods
For example, there was a book that started out with four pictures: first there was a wind-up toy; then there was an automobile; then there was a boy riding a bicycle; then there was something else. And underneath each picture, it said "What makes it go?"
I thought, I know what it is: They're going to talk about mechanics, how the springs work inside the toy; about chemistry, how the engine of an automobile works; and biology, about how the muscles work.
It was the kind of thing my father would have talked about: "What makes it go? Everything goes because the sun is shining." And then we would have fun discussing it:
"No, the toy goes becaues the spring is wound up, I would say.
"How did the spring get would up" he would ask.
"I wound it up"
"And how did you get moving?"
"From eating"
"And food grows only because the sun is shining. So it's because the sun is shining that all these things are moving" That would get the concept across that motion is simply the transformation of the sun's power.
I turned the page. The answer was, for the wind-up toy, "Energy makes it go." And for the boy on the bicycle, "Energy makes it go." For everything "Energy makes it go."
Now that doesn't mean anything. Suppose it's "Wakalixes." That's the general principle: "Wakalixes makes it go." There is no knowledge coming in. The child doesn't learn anything; it's just a word
What the should have done is to look at t ~ Richard P. Feynman
What happened?" Violet asked Jay, when Mike went to join the girls in the kitchen, giving them a moment alone in front of the fire.
Jay shook his head, his expression dark. "You tell me. One minute you were leaning on me, and the next you passed out. It freaked the shit out of me."
"Claire actually screamed," Chelsea added, rejoining them. She sat down on a wooden chair across from Violet. "I can't believe you didn't hear her. I'm with Jay though-it was pretty scary. You're lucky he caught you before you hit the ground."
Violet cringed. She glanced up at Jay, humiliated. "You…caught me?"
He nodded, and she could tell from the look on his face that he was enjoying this part. A lot. "You're welcome," he said with a completely straight face.
She looked at him again and rolled her eyes, stubbornly refusing to thank him after he'd already so clearly patted himself on the back.
Megan came back in, carrying a mug of hot chocolate, and Claire trailed behind her.
"Be careful," Megan warned quietly, handing it to Violet. "It's kind of hot."
Their fingertips brushed as the mug exchanged hands. Violet locked eyes with the younger girl. "Thank you." She imparted as much meaning as she could in the two simple words and hoped that it was gesture enough, even if only for herself. She felt bad for the things she'd suspected her of doing.
Megan pulled her hand away and glanced down nervously. "You're welcome." Her voice was timid and hesitant.
~ Kimberly Derting
You were so good to me."
He took a drink. "Only because you were the daughter of a friend. Were you anyone else I would have plucked you that first season." Just how much honesty did he owe her? Because surely this was a bit much.
She didn't look nearly as disgusted as she should have. She merely looked…disappointed. That was worse. Necessary, but worse.
"But you're not that man anymore," she reminded him.
Grey smiled, but there was little humor in it. "Who's to say? I really don't want to find out. Do you?"
She looked away, a frown knitting her delicate brow. He wanted to reach out and smooth that pucker away with his thumb, kiss her flesh smooth again. Hold her and tell her that he could be whatever she wanted him to be.
"I understand why you despise society," she said after a moment's pause. "I wanted to tell you that." She drained the rest of her drink and stood. She didn't quite meet his gaze.
"You do?" Color him astonished. He truly hadn't thought she'd ever see it.
She nodded, looking so remote and stiff-not his Rose at all. But she placed her hand on his shoulder as she walked by-a gesture of comfort? "I would avoid it as well if it reviled me as much as it reviles you. Good night, Grey."
And when she left him sitting there, drunk and about to get drunker, what little self-respect he had left got up and went with her. ~ Kathryn Smith
Charles Wallace looked troubled. I don't think it's that. It's being able to understand a sort of language, like sometimes if I concentrate very hard I can understand the wind talking with the trees. You tell me, you see, sort of inad - inadvertently. That's a good word, isn't it? I got Mother to look it up in the dictionary for me this morning. I really must learn to read, except I'm afraid it will make it awfully hard for me in school next year if I already know things. I think it will be better if people go on thinking I'm not very bright. They won't hate me quite so much. ~ Madeleine L'Engle
Annabelle, what happened to you?" Lillian asked the next morning. "You look dreadful. Why aren't you wearing your riding habit? I thought you were going to try out the jumping course this morning. And why did you disappear
so suddenly last night? It's not like you to simply vanish without saying - "
"I didn't have a choice in the matter," Annabelle said testily, folding her fingers around the delicate bowl of a porcelain teacup. Looking pale and exhausted, her blue eyes ringed with dark shadows, she swallowed a mouthful of heavily sweetened tea before continuing. "It was that blasted perfume of yours - as soon as he caught one whiff of it, he went berserk."
Shocked, Lillian tried to take in the information, her stomach plummeting. "It… it had an effect on Westcliff, then?" she managed to ask.
"Good Lord, not Lord Westcliff." Annabelle rubbed her weary eyes. "He couldn't have cared less what I smelled like. It was my husband who went completely mad. After he caught the scent of that stuff, he dragged me up to our room and…well, suffice it to say, Mr. Hunt kept me awake all night. All night ," she repeated in sullen emphasis, and drank deeply of the tea.
"Doing what?" Daisy asked blankly.
Lillian, who was feeling a rush of relief that Lord Westcliff had not been attracted to Annabelle while she
was wearing the perfume, gave her younger sister a derisive glance. "What do you think they were doing? Playing a few han ~ Lisa Kleypas
Then at a certain moment they lose heart, and the storm that was outside comes inside -- the storm is within them too. Anguish, death no longer simply circle round, they come inside. And then they turn to Christ and do what we very often do with God: we look at God in time of stress and tragedy, and we are indignant that He is so peaceful. The story in the Gospel underlines it by saying that Christ was sleeping with His head on a pillow- the final insult. They are dying and He is comfortable. This is exactly what we feel about God so often. How dare He be blissful, how dare He be so comfortable when I am in trouble? And the disciples do exactly what we do so very often. Instead of coming to God and saying 'You are peace, you are the Lord, say a word and my servant will be healed, say a word and things will come right', they shake Him out of His sleep and say 'Don't you care that we are perishing?' In other words, 'If you can do nothing, at least don't sleep. If you can do nothing better, then at least die in anguish with us.' Christ reacts, He gets up and says 'Men of little faith!' and brushing them aside, He turns towards the storm and, projecting His inner stillness, His harmony and peace on the storm He says 'Be still, be quiet' and everything is quiet again. ~ Anthony Bloom
When he was preparing for a big fight, his trainer would take him mountain climbing to build up his hand strength and endurance. Max's favorite piece of advice? Don't look down until you reach the summit. Galen had asked why, thinking Max would give him some inspirational shit about the satisfaction of seeing how far he'd come at the end or something. Instead, Max had snorted, "Because it's fucking scary. ~ Christine Bell
Is this okay with you, Jenna? For him to stay here?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's good. You have no idea what it takes for him to ask for help."
I spent all evening in Alan's office, reading at his desk and keeping Cameron company. Mostly he slept, snoring lightly and once in a while murmuring unintelligible something into his pillow. I turned my chair so that I could look at him whenever I wanted, at his face or at the bare foot that stuck out from under the covers, or at his arm dangling off the side of the sofa bed.
Around eleven, when I was ready for bed, Cameron woke up. I brought him broth and crackers. "Hi," I said.
"Have you been here all this time?"
"Most of it."
Alan's beige pajamas looked small and uncomfortable on Cameron. "You don't have to," he said. "I can take care of myself." He reached for the broth. I watched him slurp straight from his bowl, everything about him becoming younger and more boyish by the second-rosy lips on the white rim of the bowl, wrists without enough pajama sleeve to cover them, cowlick hair and sleepy eyes.
"I know you can. But you don't have to."
"Well..." He finally looked at me. "Thanks. ~ Sara Zarr
Everyone always knows what they're doing," he says abruptly, still not looking up from his hands, the little plastic pot and the old tattoo and the new white dressing on his left wrist. "You know what you're doing, you got your work and your friends and everything and miserable headfucky little teenage girly boys think you're amazing and, I don't know, you might've saved my life, who knows? I might be dead if it weren't for you and Olly but people can't keep looking after me all the time cos that ain't healthy neither, that's just as bad as people not giving a fuck at all. And, like... I'm trying to sort my head out and be a proper grown-up and get my degree and go to work and look after them kids and make sure my dad ain't kicking my sister round the house like a football but it's just so hard all the time, and I know I ain't got no right to complain cos that's just life, ain't it? Everyone's the same, least I ain't got money worries or nothing. I just don't know what I'm doing, everything's too hard. I can try and try forever but I can't be good enough for no one so what the fuck's the point? ~ Richard Rider
At the beginning of the semester, when you asked who I loved the most, an image of my mother popped in my head. When you asked me who I loved the most for the second time, it wasn't an image of my mother. Instead, it was replaced by an image of a strawberry blonde with big, blue eyes.
It took me a long time to figure out the exact moment I fell in love with her, partly because I denied that I did until it was too late.
I fucked up so badly and did so many things wrong, to the point of no return, so I let her go. The selfless part inside of me wants to say I did the right thing, and the selfish part of me thinks I made the biggest mistake of my life. I guess the selfless side won out because, every time I look at her and see what I did, I realize I don't deserve her.
I was never supposed to fall in love with her, but that was the best mistake of my life. I will always love her; I have ever since I purposely bumped into her in the hallway. ~ Sarah Brianne
Yes. That's passion, not love. Passion fades. And once it does, you're left taking care of someone you can barely stand, suffering through hard times, putting up with each other, trying to make each other happy when you're not even happy yourself. A sculpture of real love wouldn't look this enticing. It would include pain and cruelty. ~ Karpov Kinrade
You just want to give up, he said when he was able to speak. Only you keep going. You still have to get up in the morning and pour the cereal in the bowls. You keep on breathing, whether you want to or not. Nobody's around to tell you how it's supposed to work. The usual rules just don't apply anymore.
He was still talking, but she wasn't even sure if it was to her.
When it started, he said, I thought nothing could be worse than those first days. And it wasn't only us, but everyone else you'd see, wandering around like they'd landed on a whole different planet. Instead of just dealing with your own heart getting ripped into pieces, wherever you looked you knew there were other people dealing with the same thing. You couldn't even be alone with it. Like you're out in the ocean and the undertow catches you and you start yelling for help, but then you look around, and all around you in the water for as far as you can see, there's all these other people flailing too.
He sat there for a moment, shaking his head.
You keep getting up in the morning and knowing this will continue maybe ten thousand more mornings. You wish you were the one who died.
How much better would that be? ~ Joyce Maynard
I tell people too young to know that we came up during two of the most dogmatic times in recent history - the so-called hippie era and the punk era, both of which had a set of codes and rules that you had to look and dress and think a certain way, and for sure, to be of a certain age. ~ David First
Hey. Do you want a cracker?" a velvet voice asked me.
I didn't look up, I wasn't sure if he was even talking to me. Why would an attractive senior be talking to me?
"Hey, I'm talking to you," he said, a chuckle in his voice.
I slowly lifted my head peering at him from under my long lashes. His dark brown hair swept across his forehead, and his deep blue eyes made me gasp. He wore the ultimate laid back style, a white t-shirt and jeans. All he needed was a black leather jacket, and he would be the bad boy from my book. The smile on his face was breathtaking and I found myself unable to speak. ~ Felicia Tatum
Listen, kid. This is what happens: Somebody-girl usually-got a free spirit, doesn't get on too good with her parents. These kids, they're like tied-down helium balloons. They strain against the string and strain against it, and then something happens, and that string gets cut, and they just fly away. And maybe you never see the balloon again. It lands in Canada or somethin', gets work at a restaurant, and before the balloon even notices, it's been pouring coffee in that same dinner to the same sad bastards for thirty years. Or maybe three or four years from now or three or four days from now, the prevailing winds take the balloon back home, because it needs money, or it sobered up, or it misses its kid brother. But listen, kid, that string gets cut all the time."
"Yeah, bu-"
"I'm not finished, kid. The thing about these balloons is that there are so goddamned many of them. The sky is choked full of them, rubbing up against one another as they float to here or from there, and every one of those damned balloons ends up on my desk, one way or another, and after awhile a man can get discouraged. Everywhere the balloons, and each of them with a mother and father, or God forbid both, and after a while, you can't even see'em individually. You look up at all the balloons in the sky and you can see all of the balloons, but you cannot see any one balloon. ~ John Green
Jean smirked and raised an eyebrow at Leor. "Would you like to fly through the Louvre?"
Leor couldn't perceive how that would even be possible. But Jean would inevitably find a way. "No, no!" Leor ardently replied. "Let's just land there and take a walk. Look at some statues, get some air."
"Ah, but do we not have plenty of air, flowing around up here in the skies?" Jean asked, diving down towards the Seine, and then sharply pulling up along one of the slopes.
"Would you like me to vomit again?" Leor asked, with a hand near his mouth. ~ Zechariah Barrett