I Wanna Know Everything About You Quotes

So when I can, I try my best to meditate a little bit every day, and that helps a lot. I think that just taking a minute, or however long you can, and really acknowledging everything that you have. Acknowledging what you have, and at the same time, acknowledging what other folks don't have. And you know, you don't have to feel guilty about it, but definitely to feel grateful is the first step in giving it back. ~ Thao Nguyen

Put away the book, the description, the tradition, the authority, and take the journey of self-discovery. Love, and don't be caught in opinions and ideas about what love is or should be. When you love, everything will come right. Love has its own action. Love, and you will know the blessings of it. Keep away from the authority who tells you what love is and what it is not. No authority knows and he who knows cannot tell. Love, and there is understanding. ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

Dear Jessa, I've started this letter so many times and I've never been able to finish it. So here goes again . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry that Riley is dead. I'm sorry for ignoring your emails and for not being there for you. I'm sorry I've hurt you. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish it had been me that died and not Riley. If I could go back in time and change everything I would. I'm sorry I left without a word. There's no excuse for my behaviour but please know that it had nothing to do with you. I was a mess. I haven't been able to talk to anyone for months. And I felt too guilty and didn't know how to tell you the truth about what happened. I couldn't bear the thought of you knowing. I got all your emails but I didn't read them until last week. I couldn't face it and I guess that makes me the biggest coward you'll ever meet. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never replied. You needed me and I wasn't there for you. I don't even know how to ask your forgiveness because I don't deserve it. I'm just glad you're doing better. I'm better too. I've started seeing a therapist – twice a week – you'd like her. She reminds me of Didi. I never thought I'd be the kind of guy who needed therapy, but they made it a condition of me keeping my job. She's helped me a lot with getting the panic attacks under control. Working in a room the size of a janitor's closet helps too – there aren't too many surprises, only the occasional rogue paperclip. I asked for the posting. I have to thank you ~ Mila Gray

There's no need to get that way. It's your own thoughts that keep you young, Dick. And age hasn't anything to do with it. It's a question of your state of mind." "I don't care about all that. Oh! Jake - if I could live tremendously, and then die." "What do you call 'tremendously'?" "I don't know - but there are a whole lot of things I want to know and to feel. They won't ever happen though. Fate'll be against me." "Don't talk like a fool. There isn't such a thing as Fate. Everything depends on yourself," he said. "Everything?" "Yes." "I wish I could ~ Daphne Du Maurier

I can't tell you how sorry I am. About everything. About your poor cat, about that horrendous funeral my dad concocted, and really about my lunatic father in general. I'm sorry you had to move in next to a family of complete weirdos. I don't know how you've put up with all of it. I mean, you never even complained about the busted purple coffin we had sitting in the middle of our front lawn. ~ Emily Cassel

I still can't quite grasp what you are telling me. I find it impossible to believe that there would be such unreasoning feeling against harmless people."
Amaryl said bitterly, "That's because you've never had any occasion to interest yourself in such things. It can all pass right under your nose and you wouldn't smell a thing because it doesn't affect you."
Dors said, "Mr. Amaryl, Dr. Seldon is a mathematician like you and his head can sometimes be in the clouds. You must understand that. I am a historian, however. I know that it isn't unusual to have one group of people look down upon another group. There are peculiar and almost ritualistic hatreds that have no rational justification and that can have their serious historical influence. It's too bad."
Saying something is 'too bad' is easy. You say you disapprove, which makes you a nice person, and then you can go about your own business and not be interested anymore. It's a lot worse than 'too bad.' It's against everything decent and natural. We're all of us the same, yellow-hairs and black-hairs, tall and short, Easterners, Westerners, Southerners, and Outworlders. We're all of us, you and I and even the Emperor, descended from the people of Earth, aren't we? ~ Isaac Asimov

The idea tells you everything. Lots of times I get ideas, I fall in love with them. Those ones you fall in love with are really special ideas. And, in some ways, I always say, when something's abstract, the abstractions are hard to put into words unless you're a poet. These ideas you somehow know. And cinema is a language that can say abstractions. I love stories, but I love stories that hold abstractions--that can hold abstractions. And cinema can say these difficult-to-say-in-words things. A lot of times, I don't know the meaning of the idea, and it drives me crazy. I think we should know the meaning of the idea. I think about them, and I tell this story about my first feature Eraserhead. I did not know what these things meant to me--really meant. And on that particular film, I started reading the Bible. And I'm reading the Bible, going along, and suddenly--there was a sentence. And I said, forget it! That's it. That's this thing. And so, I should know the meaning for me, but when things get abstract, it does me no good to say what it is. All viewers on the surface are all different. And we see something, and that's another place where intuition kicks in: an inner-knowingness. And so, you see a thing, you think about it, and you feel it, and you go and you sort of know something inside. And you can rely on that. Another thing I say is, if you go--after a film, withholding abstractions--to a coffee place--having coffee with your friends, someone will say something, and immed ~ David Lynch

I'm a spiritual musician, I think there has been enough political musicians and I think everything that can be said has been said about political, social things, you know, and there's still some more to be said but not much. ~ Ziggy Marley

Afterward, I pretended to be patient as Akos taught me how to predict how strong a poison would be without tasting it. I tried to seal every moment in my memory. I needed to know how to brew these concoctions on my own, because soon he would be gone. If the renegades and I were caught in our attempt tonight, I would probably lose my life. If we succeeded, Akos would be home, and Shotet would be in chaos, without its leader. Either way, it was unlikely that I would see him again.
"No, no," Akos said. "Don't hack at it--slice. Slice!"
"I am slicing," I said. "Maybe if your knives weren't so dull--"
"Dull? I could cut your fingertip off with this knife!"
I spun the knife in my hand and caught it by the handle. "Oh? Could you?"
He laughed, and put his arm across my shoulders. I felt my heartbeat in my throat. "Don't pretend you're not capable of delicacy; I've seen it myself."
I scowled, and tried to focus on "slicing." My hands were trembling a little. "See me dancing in the training room and you think you know everything about me."
"I know enough. Look, slices! Told you so."
He lifted his arm, but kept his hand against my back, right under my shoulder blade. I carried the feeling with me for the rest of the night, as we finished the elixir and got ready for bed and he shut the door between us. ~ Veronica Roth

I'm still trying to decide how I feel about the fact that you knew about this before I did."
"Don't be disappointed," Jack said. "The fact that I've been ridiculously proud of you for days doesn't change how excited you should be about this. Besides, I pretty much know everything. You should probably just start getting used to it."
"And on that note, I'm hanging up," Cameron said.
"Rushing me off so you can call Collin next?" Jack teased.
"No" she said emphatically.
Damn, he really did know everything. ~ Julie James

I guess it's true that love makes you blind."
"No," my mom said. "It doesn't make you blind. You're very, very aware of everything about the one you truly love, whether you know it from what your eyes tell you or your heart. So no, love doesn't make you blind. It paralyzes you until you can't breathe or run away from it. ~ Courtney Allison Moulton

Oh Beck, I love reading your e-mail. Learning your life. And I am careful; I always mark new messages unread so that you won't get alarmed. My good fortune doesn't stop there; You prefer e-mail. You don't like texting. So this means that I am not missing out on all that much communication. You wrote an "essay" for some blog in which you stated that "e-mails last forever. You can search for any word at any time and see everything you ever said to anyone about that one word. Texts go away." I love you for wanting a record. I love your records for being so accessible and I'm so full of you, your calendar of caloric intake and hookups and menstrual moments, your self-portraits you don't publish, your recipes and exercises. You will know me soon too, I promise. ~ Caroline Kepnes

I shuddered at the mention of Mrs. Steiger.
"What's that about?" Ranger asked.
"Mrs. Steiger is the Antichrist."
"Damn," Ranger said. "I left my Antichrist gun at home."
"Looks like you brought everything else."
"Never know when you'll need some tear gas."
"If we have to gas Mrs. Steiger, it"ll ruin my chances of being Miss Burg in the Mayflower parade. ~ Janet Evanovich

I'm sorry.'
Congratulations.'
Can you tell me why you're so upset?'
The thing is, Tobey should get this. I mean, he's gotten everything else about me. And I don't want to explain it all. So much of it has to do with jealousy, and I know it's stupid to be mad at him because he had a life before me. But I am anyway. ~ Susane Colasanti

Lindsay was a teenager...at the height of that weird mixture of thinking you know everything and caring too much about how others perceive you. ~ J.D. Vance

But is all this true?" said Brutha.
Didactylos shrugged. "Could be. Could be. We are here and it is now. The way I see it is, after that, everything tends towards guesswork."
"You mean you don't KNOW it's true?" said Brutha.
"I THINK it might be," said Didactylos. "I could be wrong. Not being certain is what being a philosopher is all about. ~ Terry Pratchett

Suddenly Heller turned serious and stepped away from Lawson. He came straight at me - okay, what the hell was he doing? - and I about swallowed my tongue. Heller hugged me like a long-lost brother.
"Thank you for protecting my mate," he whispered in my ear.
"You're welcome. You mean the world to him, you know?" I left it at that because, really, what more was there to say?
"Yeah, I do know. Now he needs to know." Heller stepped back from me, then turned around to face Lawson.
Then he went down on one knee.
Lawson gasped, Remi thrust his fist in the air and yelled, "Yes," and I rolled my eyes. Of course, that was more for show than anything. I did have a reputation to keep up
"Lawson?" Heller
held his hand out to Lawson, who took it. "You're my everything, but I've told you that. My life would be… would be incomplete without you. You're my mate - my one and only. What I haven't done is tell you that… that… I love you, and I don't know why I haven't. I think… no, I know I fell in love with you the moment I looked into those beautiful gunmetal-gray eyes of yours at your shop."
"Jesus, Heller," Lawson gasped.
Heller pulled a small box out of his front pocket. "Shifters don't marry… not like humans. Sometimes we have to shift with next to no warning, so we don't wear jewelry."
"But… you don't shift, and being part human, I guessed marriage means a lot to you. It does, right?"
Lawson wiped his eyes. "Oh God, yes, it does. Espe ~ M.A. Church

I love everything about you, Emma. I love the way I can recognize your footsteps in the hallway outside my room even when I didn't know you were coming. No one else walks or breathes or moves like you do. I love the way you gasp when you're asleep like your dreams have surprised you. I love the way when we stay together on the beach our shadows blend into one person. I love the way you can write on my skin with your fingers and I can understand it better than I could understand someone else shouting in my ear. I didn't want to love you like this. It's the worst idea in the world that I love you like this. But I can't stop. Believe me, I tried. ~ Cassandra Clare

Many people, after spending a long weekend being stealthily seduced by this grand dame of the South, mistakenly think that they have gotten to know her: they believe (in error) that after a long stroll amongst the rustling palmettoes and gas lamps, a couple of sumptuous meals, and a tour or two, that they have discovered everything there is to know about this seemingly genteel, elegant city. But like any great seductress, Charleston presents a careful veneer of half-truths and outright fabrications, and it lets you, the intended conquest, fill in many of the blanks. Seduction, after all, is not true love, nor is it a gentle act. She whispers stories spun from sugar about pirates and patriots and rebels, about plantations and traditions and manners and yes, even ghosts; but the entire time she is guarded about the real story. Few tourists ever hear the truth, because at the dark heart of Charleston is a winding tale of violence, tragedy and, most of all, sin. ~ James Caskey

Not being able to swipe into the subway when people are backing up behind you. Waiting for him at the bar. Leaving your purse open on a stool with a mess of bills visible. Mispronouncing the names while presenting French wines. Your clogs slipping on the waxed floors. The way your arms shoot out and you tense your face when you almost fall. Taking your job seriously. Watching the sex scene from Dirty Dancing on repeat and eating a box of gingersnaps for dinner on your day off. Forgetting your stripes, your work pants, your socks. Mentally mapping the bar for corners where you might catch him alone. Getting drunker faster than everyone else. Not knowing what foie gras is. Not knowing what you think about abortion. Not knowing what a feminist is. Not knowing who the mayor is. Throwing up between your feet on the subway stairs. On a Tuesday. Going back for thirds at family meal. Excruciating diarrhea in the employee bathroom. Hurting yourself when you hit your head on the low pipe. Refusing to leave the bar though it's over, completely over. Bleeding in every form. Beer stains on your shirt, grease stains on your jeans, stains in every form. Saying you know where something is when you have absolutely no idea where it is.

At some point, I leveled out. Everything stopped being embarrassing. ~ Stephanie Danler

It was hard to decide on a literature course. Everything the professors said seemed to be somehow beside the point. You wanted to know why Anna had to die, and instead they told you that 19th century Russian landowners felt conflicted about whether they were really a part of Europe. The implication was that it was somehow naive to want to talk about anything interesting, or to think that you would ever know anything important. ~ Elif Batuman

You can know everything there is to know about someone's life, who their parents are, what they do for a living, how much money they have, the friends they hang out with, and never really know anything. People who seem simple on the surface, are usually the most complex. ~ Devon Herrera

I do consider it my responsibility to know everything there is to know about anything that could be considered my domain. I believe I am quite adept at the management of people and events." His green eyes twinkled. "You've certainly managed me since the day I was born." "I was but three years old when you were born," she protested. "I didn't start managing you for at least another year. ~ Erica Ridley

Anyway, my dad gave me a whole birth-control kit for college, so we don't even have to worry about it."
Peter nearly chokes on his sandwich. "A birth-control kit?"
"Sure. Condoms and…" Dental dams. "Peter, do you know what a dental dam is?"
"A what? Is that what dentists use to keep your mouth open when they clean it?"
I giggle. "No. It's for oral sex. And here I thought you were this big expert and you were going to be the one to teach me everything at college! ~ Jenny Han

Don't you squire me. There's something going on down here, something wrong; I can feel it in my boots and, believe me, they're the most sensitive boots that ever were. The man who runs the village pub knows everything - I know that and so do you. If you're not on my side you're in my way and you know something, I can see it in your eyes. If it turns out you knew something of importance about the blacksmith you'll have invited yourself to be an accessory after the fact, with a free option, if I can get the bit between my teeth, of before the fact, which leaves you right in the middle, and that's a fact. ~ Terry Pratchett

I want you to tell me
about the Survivor," he finally said.
"He was lord of the mists," Demoux said immediately.
"Not the rhetoric," Elend said. "Someone tell me about the man, Kelsier. I never met him, you know. I
saw him once, right before he died, but I never knew him."
"What's the point?" Cett asked. "We've all heard the stories. He's practically a god, if you listen to the
skaa."
"Just do as I ask," Elend said.
The tent was still for a few moments. Finally, Ham spoke. "Kell was . . . grand. He wasn't just a man,
he was bigger than that. Everything he did was large - his dreams, the way he spoke, the way he thought.
. . ."
"And it wasn't false," Breeze added. "I can tell when a man is being a fake. That's why I started my
first job with Kelsier, actually. Amidst all the pretenders and posturers, he was genuine. Everyone wanted
to be the best. Kelsier really was."
"He was a man," Vin said quietly. "Just a man. Yet, you always knew he'd succeed. He made you be
what he wanted you to be."
"So he could use you," Breeze said.
"But you were better when he was done with you," Ham added ~ Brandon Sanderson

Huxley: "Tell me something Bryce, do you know the difference between a Jersey, a Guernsey, a Holstein, and an Ayershire?"
Bryce: "No."
Huxley: "Seabags Brown does."
Bryce: "I don't see what that has to do..."
Huxley: "What do you know about Gaelic history?"
Bryce: "Not much."
Huxley: "Then why don't you sit down one day with Gunner McQuade. He is an expert. Speaks the language, too."
Bryce: "I don't..."
Huxley: " What do you know about astronomy?"
Bryce: "A little."
Huxley: "Discuss it with Wellman, he held a fellowship."
Bryce: "This is most puzzling."
Huxley: "What about Homer, ever read Homer?"
Bryce: "Of course I've read Homer."
Huxley: "In the original Greek?"
Bryce: "No"
Huxley: "Then chat with Pfc. Hodgkiss. Loves to read the ancient Greek."
Bryce: "Would you kindly get to the point?"
Huxley: "The point is this, Bryce. What makes you think you are so goddam superior? Who gave you the bright idea that you had a corner on the world's knowledge? There are privates in this battalion who can piss more brains down a slit trench then you'll ever have. You're the most pretentious, egotistical individual I've ever encountered. Your superiority complex reeks. I've seen the way you treat men, like a big strutting peacock. Why, you've had them do everything but wipe your ass. ~ Leon Uris

Everything worth knowing about the 1980s I learned from obsessively reading Bloom County collections when I was nine and Derek Jarman's diaries when I was twenty. ~ Ruadhan J. McElroy

The only thing secretive about secret societies is the fear that the arrogant inside these groups have of sharing the little they know, because they often don't even understand their own books and struggle with little. Their real fear is that someone may come along, understand everything better and faster than they do and before they can, and then, by default, lead them to exclusion by ignorance. On the other hand, their fear blinds them from knowing more and identifying those who can take them to a higher level, the same individuals that they clame to be waiting for and that only appear every couple of hundred years or thousand. This paradox is what leads their groups to extinction by self-imposed destructive behavior or to practices that are in complete contradiction towards what their founder or founders intended. As a matter of fact, the more this reality manifests before our eyes, the easier it is to find quotes in books written by founders of such groups in complete contradiction with what you hear everyone inside these groups speaking. What I'm really saying here is that Freemasonry, Rosicrucianism, Scientology, and many other groups out there, have long lost their entitlement to ownership of their own name, and as much as Christianity is today more in tune to an evil God than a benevolent one. Their real intention, even if manifested mostly at a subconscious level, is to keep away anyone that contradicts what they want to see, rather than what they should be seeing. I ~ Robin Sacredfire

I was outside St. Cecelia's Rectory smoking a cigarette when a goat appeared beside me. It was mostly black and white, with a little reddish brown here and there. When I started to walk away, it followed. I was amused and delighted, but wondered what the laws were on this kind of thing. There's a leash law for dogs, but what about goats? People smiled at me and admired the goat. "It's not my goat," I explained. "It's the town's goat. I'm just taking my turn caring for it." "I didn't know we had a goat," one of them said. "I wonder when my turn is." "Soon," I said. "Be patient. Your time is coming." The goat stayed by my side. It stopped when I stopped. It looked up at me and I stared into its eyes. I felt he knew everything essential about me. We walked on. A police- man on his beat looked us over. "That's a mighty fine goat you got there," he said, stopping to admire. "It's the town's goat," I said. "His family goes back three-hundred years with us," I said, "from the beginning." The officer leaned forward to touch him, then stopped and looked up at me. "Mind if I pat him?" he asked. "Touching this goat will change your life," I said. "It's your decision." He thought real hard for a minute, and then stood up and said, "What's his name?" "He's called the Prince of Peace," I said. "God! This town is like a fairy tale. Everywhere you turn there's mystery and wonder. And I'm just a child playing cops and robbers forever. Please forgive me if I cry." "We forgive you, Officer," I ~ James Tate

You think you know what a man is? You have no idea what a man is. You think you know what a daughter is? You have no idea what a daughter is. You think you know what this country is? You have no idea what this country is. You have a false image of everything. All you know is what a fucking glove is. This country is frightening. Of course she was raped. What kind of company do you think she was keeping? Of course out there she was going to get raped. This isn't Old Rimrock, old buddy - she's out there, old buddy, in the USA. She enters that world, that loopy world out there, with whats going on out there - what do you expect? A kid from Rimrock, NJ, of course she didn't know how to behave out there, of course the shit hits the fan. What could she know? She's like a wild child out there in the world. She can't get enough of it - she's still acting up. A room off McCarter Highway. And why not? Who wouldn't? You prepare her for life milking the cows? For what kind of life? Unnatural, all artificial, all of it. Those assumptions you live with. You're still in your olf man's dream-world, Seymour, still up there with Lou Levov in glove heaven. A household tyrannized by gloves, bludgeoned by gloves, the only thing in life - ladies' gloves! Does he still tell the one about the woman who sells the gloves washing her hands in a sink between each color? Oh where oh where is that outmoded America, that decorous America where a woman had twenty-five pairs of gloves? Your kid blows your nor ~ Philip Roth

But the moon was so large and clear through the uncurtained window that it made me think instead of a story my mother had told me, about driving to horse shows with her mother and father in the back seat of their old Buick when she was little. "It was a lot of travelling - ten hours sometimes through hard country. Ferris wheels, rodeo rings with sawdust, everything smelled like popcorn and horse manure. One night we were in San Antonio, and I was having a bit of a melt-down - wanting my own room, you know, my dog, my own bed - and Daddy lifted me up on the fairgrounds and told me to look at the moon. 'When you feel homesick,' he said, 'just look up. Because the moon is the same wherever you go.' So after he died, and I had to go to Aunt Bess - I mean, even now, in the city, when I see a full moon, it's like he's telling me not to look back or feel sad about things, that home is wherever I am." She kissed me on the nose. "Or where you are, puppy. The center of my earth is you. ~ Donna Tartt

I don't know why we live - the gift of life comes to us from I don't know what source or for what purpose; but I believe we can go on living for the reason that (always of course up to a certain point) life is the most valuable thing we know anything about and it is therefore presumptively a great mistake to surrender it while there is any yet left in the cup. In other words consciousness is an illimitable power, and though at times it may seem to be all consciousness of misery, yet in the way it propagates itself from wave to wave, so that we never cease to feel, though at moments we appear to, try to, pray to, there is something that holds one in one's place, makes it a standpoint in the universe which it is probably good not to forsake. You are right in your consciousness that we are all echoes and reverberations of the same, and you are noble when your interest and pity as to everything that surrounds you, appears to have a sustaining and harmonizing power. Only don't, I beseech you, generalize too much in these sympathies and tendernesses - remember that every life is a special problem which is not yours but another's, and content yourself with the terrible algebra of your own. Don't melt too much into the universe, but be as solid and dense and fixed as you can. We all live together, and those of us who love and know, live so most. We help each other - even unconsciously, each in our own effort, we lighten the effort of others, we contribute to the sum of success, make ~ Henry James

You know what Hans told me last week?" she says as I open the door of my fitting room. "He told me to write down a list of everything I wanted to say about that women-and then tear it up. He said I'd feel a sense of freedom."
"Oh right," I say interestedly. "So what happened?"
"I wrote it all down," says Laurel. "And then I mailed it to her! ~ Sophie Kinsella

The minute you think you know everything about tennis is the minute your game starts going down the tubes. ~ Jimmy Connors

As soon as I knew that the bullet had gone clean through my neck I took it for granted that I was done for. I had never heard of a man or an animal getting a bullet through the middle of the neck and surviving it. The blood was dribbling out of the corner of my mouth. 'The artery's gone,' I thought. I wondered how long you last when your carotid artery is cut; not many minutes, presumably. Everything was very blurry. There must have been about two minutes during which I assumed that I was killed. And that too was interesting - I mean it is interesting to know what your thoughts would be at such a time. My first thought, conventionally enough, was for my wife. My second was a violent resentment at having to leave this world which, when all is said and done, suits me so well. I had time to feel very vividly. The stupid mischance infuriated me. The meaninglessness of it! ~ George Orwell

The first rule of snooping is to come at it sideways
when you began writing me dizzy letters about Alexander, I didn't ask if you were in love with him, I asked what his favorite animal was. And your answer told me everything I needed to know about him
how many men would admit that they loved ducks? ~ Annie Barrows

It's rigged - everything, in your favor.
So there is nothing to worry about.

Is there some position you want,
some office, some acclaim, some award, some con, some lover,
maybe two, maybe three, maybe four - all at once,

maybe a relationship
with
God?

I know there is a gold mine in you, when you find it
the wonderment of the earth's gifts
you will lay aside
as naturally as does
a child a
doll.

But, dear, how sweet you look to me kissing the unreal:
comfort, fulfill yourself,
in any way possible - do that until
you ache, until you ache,

then come to me
again. ~ Jalaluddin Rumi

But nothing on this earth is guaranteed, when you get right down to it, you know ? I've been thinking about that. About how your kids aren't really YOURS, they're just these people that you try to keep an eye on, and hope you'll all grow up someday to like each other and still be in one piece. What I mean is, everything you get is really just on loan. Does that make sense?"
Sure,"I said. "Like library books. Sooner or later they've all got to go back into the nightdrop. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

I love you Tory. I know I say it a lot, but ... "
"I know baby. I feel the same way about you. Those words never convey what goes through my mind and heart every time I look up and see you sitting in my house. Funny thign is, I always thought my house was full and that there was nothing missing in my life. I had a job I loved. Family who loved me. Good friends to keep me sane. Everything a human could want. And t hen I met an infuriating, impossible man who added the one thing I didn't know wasn't there."
"Dirty socks on the floor?"
She laughed. "No, the other part of my heart. The last face I see before I go to sleep and the first one I see when I get up. I'm so glad it was you."
Those words both thrilled and scared him. Mostly because he knew firsthand that if love went untended it turned into profound hatred.
Tory and Acheron ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

And that's what I don't like about magic, Captain. 'cos it's *magic*. You can't ask questions, it's magic. It doesn't explain anything, it's magic. You don't know where it comes from, it's magic! That's what I don't like about magic, it does everything by magic! ~ Terry Pratchett

Clay, did you ever love me?"
I'm studying a billboard and say that I didn't hear what she said.
"I asked if you ever loved me?"
On the terrace the sun bursts into my eyes and for one blinding moment I see myself clearly. I remember the first time we made love, in the house in Palm Springs, her body tan and wet, lying against cool, white sheets.
"Don't do this, Blair," I tell her.
"Just tell me."
I don't say anything.
"Is it such a hard question to answer?"
I look at her straight on.
"Yes or no?"
"Why?"
"Damnit, Clay," she sighs.
"Yeah, sure, I guess."
"Don't lie to me."
"What in the fuck do you want to hear?"
"Just tell me," she says, her voice rising.
"No," I almost shout. "I never did." I almost start to laugh.
She draws in a breath and says, "Thank you. That's all I wanted to know." She sips her wine.
"Did you ever love me?" I ask her back, though by now I can't even care.
She pauses. "I thought about it and yeah, I did once. I mean I really did. Everything was all right for a while. You were kind." She looks down and then goes on. "But it was like you weren't there. Oh shit, this isn't going to make any sense." She stops.
I look at her, waiting for her to go on, looking up at the billboard. Disappear Here.
"I don't know if any other person I've been with has been really there, either ... but at least they tried."
I finger the menu; put the cigarette out.
"You ~ Bret Easton Ellis

Straight guys only feel three ways about girls ... First, either they love you, and they show it by writing a song about you, like Gabriel, and asking you out, and everything is nice and fun like it should be. Second, they love you, but they're scared of their passion for you because it's so strong, like your boy Christopher, so they stuff it way, way down and ignore you, or do stupid things like make fun of you because they don't know how to express it any other way, because they're immature little babies and are too shy to, say, write a song about you. Or third, there's something wrong with them, and they start out nice and loving and then turn around and do stupid things like sleep with other girls behind your back, like Justin Bay. But we'll never figure out what went wrong with them, and neither will they, so it's not worth thinking about. Okay? That's it. The end.
Lulu Collins ~ Meg Cabot

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

Hate Poem

I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped
in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.

Look out! Fore! I hate you.

The blue-green jewel of sock lint I'm digging
from under by third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases
hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.

A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious
symbol of how I hate you.

My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant "good morning": hate.
You know how when I'm sleepy I nuzzle my head
under your arm? Hate.
The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit
practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning
to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one
individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity
of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Julie Sheehan

There is something deliciously melancholy and haunting about rusting roller coasters, faded fiberglass facades, ferris wheels missing two or three cars, the gradual decay of something meant to be bright and cheerful. -Abandoned Amusement Parks

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. -Edgar Allan Poe

The world thinks eccentricity in great things is genius, but in small things, only crazy. -Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

I'll give you another instance: you know how everybody's into weirdness right now?... A lot o' people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch o' unconnected incidents 'n things. They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything. Give you an example; show you what I mean: suppose you're thinkin' about a plate o' shrimp. Suddenly someone'll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate o' shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in lookin' for one, either. It's all part of a cosmic unconciousness. -Tracey Walter "Miller", Repo Man

Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead. -Mickey Rourke "Henry", Barfly

There is nothing about me. I exist only in the surface of what I create. I am slowly losing my mind. I am form over function. I am a hollow space with a shiny exterior - I can only reflect what I'm shown. I am mortified to be human and it upsets me greatly that, one ~ Rust Cohle True Detective

Now, about Markham V. Reynolds (Junior). Your questions regarding that gentleman are very delicate, very subtle, very much like being smacked in the head with a mallet. Am I in love with him? What kind of a question is that? It's a tuba among the flutes, and I expect better of you. The first rule of snooping is to come at it sideways - when you began writing me dizzy letters about Alexander, I didn't ask if you were in love with him, I asked what his favorite animal was. And your answer told me everything I needed to know about him - how many men would admit that they loved ducks? (This brings up an important point: I don't know what Mark's favorite animal is. I doubt it's a duck.) ~ Mary Ann Shaffer

You can tell everything you need to know about a person by the way they treat someone in a service position. If you're on a date with someone and they're rude to the waiter, shut it down. ~ Isaac Oliver

Told you I was gone for you … Think you know what that means. Think you might be feeling me the same way and that's what you were wanting to tell me." He ran this thumb along my jaw down to my neck. "Am I right?"
I nodded. "Yes."
"Good," he said, smiling. "That's ours, Wild. What we have, how we build on it, and I don't give a fuck if it makes sense or not. It was fast but I don't care. People might not get it like we do but again" – he dipped closer – "I do not fuckin' care. What I do care about is you, everything that involves you. ~ J. Daniels