I Want To See You Badly Quotes

I had decided ages ago that I would not continue my education after school, what we learned was just rubbish, basically what life was about was living, and living in the way you want, in other words, enjoying your life. Some enjoyed their lives best by working, others by not working. OK, I was aware that I would need money, which meant that I would also have to work, but not all the time and not on something that would deplete all my energy and eat into my soul, leaving me like one of the middleaged halfwits who guarded their hedges and peered across at their neighbours to see if their status symbols were as wonderful as their own.
I didn't want that.
But money was a problem. ~ Karl Ove Knausgaard

I got so far away from what they told you in acting class: Do something different. Producers kept offering me the 'Sister Act' movie, but I said, 'My fans don't want to see me in a wimple.' I literally said, 'My fans don't want to see me in a wimple.' ~ Bette Midler

Nothing makes you happy in life except love... Neither the books you write or cites you see... I am very lonely... If I say that I want to be here in this city close to you until the end of my life would you believe me? ~ Orhan Pamuk

Cash was running low, so I'd applied for a job as an administrative assistant for a nonprofit arts group. Without question, my organizational skills were as sharp as my vision, and I had no office experience to speak of. Luckily for me, none of this surfaced during the interview.

'Ryan, pretend it's a rough morning for a sec. Handle this situation for me. When you arrive at work to open the arts resource centre, several people are already at the door. Two clients want immediate help with grant applications - you know those artists, they just can't wait! - and a third wants to use our library, which isn't open till noon. Entering the office, you hear the phone is ringing and see the message light is blinking. The fax machine looks jammed again, and we're expecting an important document. Among the people waiting is a courier with a package you need to sign for. Think about it, though. The lights haven't been turned on yet, and the sign put out front. The alarm needs the code within a minute, too. So, wow, rough morning. I'd like to know what you'd do first.'

'First I'd tell everybody how weird this is. I'm in the same test situation from my job interview. What are the chances?'

I started the next day. ~ Ryan Knighton

The only person on this ship who gets paid for what they do is you, Alix. The rest of us live off our trust funds and we use those funds for our humanitarian missions. I do what I do because I can't stand to see innocent people bullied by a corrupt government. I don't want to see a baby starve and die because some fat politician wants to work its parents into the ground for a mineral most of them can't even pronounce. (Devyn) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

I heard a thunk that sounded like Lend's head against the door. "This is stupid. Let my dad take care of it. He's been contacting everyone he knows who is still with IPCA, and - "
I walked over and put my own head against the door, pretending there wasn't anything between us. "And it doesn't matter. IPCA isn't the same. There are new people in charge, and they aren't messing around. I can help her. Raquel would do the same for me. She has done the same for me."
"I don't see what good it's going to do for you to waltz back in there and - "
"Can I tango back in there, instead? So much sexier than the waltz."
"Evie, I'm serious! You just broke out of IPCA! You're going to get tased and tagged again."
"I really doubt it. Faerie backup, remember?" I went to the window and looked down into the yard, where Reth stood in the midst of the dead brown grass, looking like a god of spring and sunshine who had seriously lost his way. He was staring straight up at me, although how he knew I'd look straight down that instant I had no idea. Creeper.
I shivered a little, still not breaking eye contact with Reth. I was in over my head, I knew that, and I knew I'd owe him even more after this. I had no doubt I'd pay in a way I really didn't want to, and soon.
The door shook as Lend kicked it. "Pretty much the only idea I like less than you walking back into IPCA is you walking back into IPCA with only Jack and Reth for protection."
"They owe me."
"Tru ~ Kiersten White

A rain of pebbles from overhead makes me glance up in time to see Ruthann step onto the lip of the cliff, another fifteen feet above me. Her body is wrapped tight in a pure white robe.

"Ruthann!" I shout, my voice caroming off the rock walls, an obscenity.

She looks down at me. Across the distance our eyes meet.

"Ruthann, don't," I whisper, but she shakes her head.

I'm sorry.

In that half-second, I think about Wilma and Derek and me, all the people who do not want to beleft behind, who think we know what is best for her. I think about the doctors and the medicines Ruthann lied about taking. I think about how I could talk her down from that ledge like I have talked down a dozen potential suicide victims. Yet the right thing to do, here, is subjective. Ruthann's family, who wants her alive, will not be the one to lose hair from drugs, to have surgery to remove her breast, to die by degrees. It is easy to say that Ruthann should come down from that cliff, unless you are Ruthann.

I know better than anyone what it feels like to have someone else make choices for you, when you deserve to be making them yourself.

I look at Ruthann, and very slowly, I not.

She smiles at me, and so I am her witness -- as she unwraps the wedding robe from her narrow shoulders and holds is across her back like the wide wings of a hawk. As she steps off the edge of the cliff and rises to the Spirit World. As t ~ Jodi Picoult

I hope that when girls see my clothes, my shoes, or my outrageous jewelry collection, they feel the thrill of wanting more for themselves too. I love what my friend Andre Leon Talley said: "If you are successful, people want to see it. They want to share in your dream". ~ Kimora Lee Simmons

Then you learn about composition, you learn about old masters, you form certain ideas about structure. But the inhuman activity of trying to make some kind of jump or leap, where , the painting is always saying, 'What do you want from me? I can only be a painting.' You have to go from part to part, but you shouldn't see yourself go from part to part, that's the whole point. ~ Philip Guston

His father shook him roughly to get his attention. "Listen to me, boy. I need you to take care of your sisters. You hear me?" Even though he was the youngest of the Dagan children and only eight years old, it was something his dad always said to him. "Yeah, I know." "No, Cai, you don't. You're too young to comprehend what I'm trying to tell you, but you have to try." There was a sadness in his father's eyes that scared him. A resignation that had never been there before and it made him want to cry. But Dagans didn't cry and he wasn't about to let his dad see him act like one of his sisters. His father cupped his face in his calloused palm. "It'll be years before you understand what's happening - if even then. But I need you to listen to me and trust me. I won't be here to protect you anymore." Caillen ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Here's what I want you to learn from this: Never let someone answer a question for you. Jump in with anything at all to make sure hat you're the one talking. Say, 'That's an interesting question', or 'I'm glad you asked that question,' or 'Oh goody, my favorite subject.' Say anything that will guarantee that you're in the conversation about yourself and not out of it like a teenager standing next to her mother at a cocktail party.
You must tell your own story, never let someone, even someone as familiar to you as your sister-in-law think she knows you better than you know yourself. She only sees what you do, she doesn't' see who you are inside. If I regret anything when I look back, it's how often I allowed people to think what they wanted to thing. I should've stopped them sort. I should've laughed at their assumptions. I should've hooted with laughter, 'Hoo hoo hoo,' and followed with twinkling, mischievous smile just to throw them off, just to keep them guessing,
The problem is they watch what you do, who you love, how you cook, what you read and what you don't read, and they decide what it means, and sometimes you're not there to stop them, or you get the timing wrong. I've always wondered why people look so much to action for meaning. When people tell you a story, something that happened to them, something important, don't ask them what they did , ask them what they wanted to do, what they want to do is who they are. Actions are whispers compared to dreams. ~ Alison Jean Lester

He'd reached the door, then stopped for a moment, looking back at Elinor, staring at her.
"Master Francis..." Mrs. Clarke said in a warning tone.
"I just wanted to take a last glance at her exquisite feet before you covered them up again. It might be a while before I see them again."
"It will be never," Elinor said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Don't count on it, my pet. Whatever scurrilous lies Mrs. Clarke spreads about my so-called goodness, she'll have to admit that I always get what I want. ~ Anne Stuart

And were you being good to yourself?
i don't think so. but, i forgive you, girl, who tallied stretch marks into reasons why no one should get close. i forgive you, silly girl, sweet breath, decent by default. i forgive you for being afraid. did everything betray you? even the rain you love so much made rust out of your jewelry? i forgive you, soft spoken girl speaking with fake brash voice, fooling no one. i see you, tender even on your hardest days. i forgive you, waiting for him to call, i forgive you, the diets and the cruel friends. especially for that one time you said 'i fucking give up on love, it's not worth it, i'd rather be alone forever'. you were just pretending, weren't you? i know you didn't mean that. your body, your mouth, your heart, made specifically for loving. sometimes the things we love, will kill us, but weren't we dying anyway? i forgive you for being something that will eventually die. perishable goods, fading out slowly, little human, i wouldn't want to be in a world where you don't exist. ~ Warsan Shire

You're driving through the park?" Jericho cursed.

"Yeah," Breeze laughed. "Brilliant, huh? They'll think we'll use the roads but we're not. Our guys can see us from the rooftops so we're covered."

"Do you want to turn on the headlights?" Jinx pushed his head between the seats from the back. "So you don't hit a tree. Do you see that one directly in our path?"

Breeze jerked on the wheel, sending the Jeep to the right before straightening it out. "I see it. I'm not blind, and no, I'm not using headlights. Humans don't have our night vision. The point is to get there without them knowing where we are. Now shut up and sit tight. I'll have us there before - "

"The bushes!" Flame yelled.

"I see them." Breeze swerved to the left. "Isn't this fun?"

"No," True grumbled, "it's not."

"Spoilsport." Breeze chuckled. "And yes, I see the lake." She turned the wheel. "We're not going for a swim."

Jeanie closed her eyes and turned into True, grateful she couldn't see anything out in the darkness. ~ Laurann Dohner

In the hall, Tina whisper hisses, "Retreat! Retreat!" The sounds of heels clip clopping follows before...
stumble crash bang
Mimi laughs her ass off and says, "We have a man down! I repeat. We are a man down!"
Lola laughs hard and yells out, "We're so bad at this! Best mission ever!
The sound of giggles and heels approach my room. I put an arm under my head to elevate it. I want to see what these goofballs are doing. Tina's first through the door and looks sheepish while rubbing her elbow. That is until she see Nat, Helena and Nina all sitting on my bed. Then she yells out, "Pajama party!" And literally throws herself on to my bed, hurt elbow forgotten. She belly flops onto my stomach, My body jolts upwards, the wind is knocked out of me and I groan. Tina looks up at me with wide eyes. She rushed out, "Ash, honey! I'm so sorry!" Then she rubs what she thinks is my stomach. Only its my cock.
Removing her hands from me, I tell her,
"Tina, I don't think Nik would like you in my bed rubbing my junk. ~ Belle Aurora

Yes, she had changed her mind after sixty years and she would like to see George. I want you to find George. Find him and be sure to tell him I forgot him. I want him to know I had my husband just the same and my children and my house like any other woman. A good house too and a good husband that I loved and fine children out of him. Better than I had hoped for even. Tell him I was given back everything he took away and more. Oh, no, oh, God, no, there was something else besides the house and the man and the children. Oh, surely they were not all? What was it? Something not given back... Her breath crowded down under her ribs and grew into a monstrous frightening shape with cutting edges; it bored up into her head, and the agony was unbelievable: Yes, John, get the Doctor now, no more talk, the time has come. ~ Katherine Anne Porter

I really do not want to be forced into all this criticism and analysis of life. I really do want to see things in their entirety, with their beauty left to them, and their wholeness, their natural holiness.Don't you feel it, don't you feel you can't be tortured into any more knowledge? ~ D.H. Lawrence

Yes, but knee pants are so much more flattering. You can see my legs."
You want people to see your legs?"
I have very nice legs!" We both paused to admire them for a moment. ~ Karen Chance

The Oracle rose. As one, the three witches bowed.
"See?" Bran jerked his thumb at the three women. "That's how a woman should treat a man. Next time you see me, I want you to do just like them. ~ Ilona Andrews

What'd you think?" Dan asked as we buckled into the Acclaim after another Sunday under the big top.

"I wonder if they realize their worship songs include both amillennial and premillennial theology," I said with a sigh. "Also, what's this business from the preacher about Moses writing Numbers? I mean, everyone knows Moses didn't actually write the book of Numbers. It originated from a combination of written and oral tradition and was assembled and edited by Jewish priests sometime during the postexilic period as an exercise in national self-definition. You can look that up on Wikipedia. And, while we're at it, a bit more Christology applied to the Old Testament text would be nice."

"Um, Rach, the sermon today was about humility."

Lord, have mercy.

See, I've got this coping mechanism thing where, when I'm feeling frightened or vulnerable or over my head, I intellectualize the situation to try and regain a sense of control. . . . In some religious traditions, this particular coping mechanism is known as pride.

I confess I preened it. I scoffed at the idea of being taught or led. Deconstructing was so much safer than trusting, so much easier than letting people in. I knew exactly what type of Christian I didn't want to be, but I was too frightened, or too rebellious, or too wounded, to imagine what might be next. Like a garish conch shell, my cynicism protected me from disappointment, or so I believed, so I expected the w ~ Rachel Held Evans

Passion doesn't rely on fame rather fame rely on your passion, i see people joining a field, hungry for fame, want to become a brand, trying to convert their weaknesses into strengths by ignoring the Brand that God has created by Himself by giving you a face and task and the love for that specific assigned task is in your heart, try to recognize that true power rather than focusing on others, their destinations and paths.

You are here on planet earth to show people either your face becomes the autograph of God if u recognize your own self and brand, or the autograph of the devil by not following your own true nature and trying to become something else, by participating in the destructive aspect of the universe. ~ Mohsin Ali Shaukat

If you ever see shitty ass rock dudes in shitty ass rock bands asking you to show them your tist for backstage passes, I want you to spit right in their fucking faces and yell 'FUCK YOU! ~ Gerard Way

It's dying," I say. "When the center is exposed like that, it doesn't have a chance."
"But it's beautiful," she points out, I stare at the shriveling cactus and try to see the beauty in it.
"That's the way I want to go out," she decides.
"What?" I ask. "Torn up and ripped open?"
She shakes her head. "Totally exposed, with no regrets. You can tell this cactus lived; it has the battle scars to prove it. Why go out looking perfect and put together? It means you didn't experience anything. You didn't take any risks. ~ Katie Kacvinsky

He is a slave."
"He is a man, as I am."
Kestrel slipped from her saddle, stood face-to-face with Ronan, and lied. "He is nothing to me."
Ronan's anger dimmed a little. He waited, listening.
"I never should have challenged Irex." Kestrel decided to weave some truth into her story, to toughen the fabric of it. "But he and I have an unfriendly history. He made me an offer last spring. I turned him down. Since then, he has been…aggressive."
She had Ronan's sympathy then, and she was grateful, for she didn't know what she would do if he and Jess turned their backs on her. She needed them--not only today, but always.
"Irex angered me. The slave was just an excuse." How much easier everything would be if that were so. But Kestrel wouldn't let herself consider the truth. She didn't want to know its shape or see its face. "I was thoughtless and rash, but I've drawn my tiles and must play them. Will you help me, Ronan? Will you do as I asked in my letter?"
"Yes." He still looked unhappy. "Though as far as I can see, there is little for me to do but stand and watch you fight."
"And Jess? Will she be at the duel?"
"Yes, as soon as she is done weeping her eyes out. What a fright you've given us, Kestrel."
Kestrel opened a saddlebag and passed Ronan the purse with the death-price. He took it, recognizing it by its weight and the fact that her letter had told him to expect it. Softly, he said, "You frightened me."
She embraced him, step ~ Marie Rutkoski

It all comes back. Perhaps it is difficult to see the value in having one's self back in that kind of mood, but I do see it; I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were. I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be; one of them, a seventeen-year-old, presents little threat, although it would be of some interest to me to know again what it feels like to sit on a river levee drinking vodka-and-orange-juice and listening to Les Paul and Mary Ford and their echoes sing "How High the Moon" on the car radio. (You see I still have the scenes, but I no longer perceive myself among those present, no longer could ever improvise the dialogue.) The other one, a twenty-three-year-old, bothers me more. She was always a good deal of trouble, and I suspect she will reappear when I least want to see her, skirts too long, shy to the point of aggravation, always the injured party, full of recriminations and little hurts and stories I do not want to hear again, at once saddening me and angering me with her vulnerability an ~ Joan Didion

Serving others also requires a talent for observation," Hawke murmurs in my ear. "She'll approach the table to her right next, ask the woman in the red shirt if she'd like her bill." My mom does exactly that, her lips moving as she gathers the dirty dishes. The customer nods and pulls her wallet out of her no-name vinyl purse. "How did you know she'd do that?" I ask. "I look for threats. You look for fashions." He splays his fingers over me, his grip thrillingly secure. "Your mom looks for needs her customers might have." "Everyone sees what they want to see," I conclude. "The average person sees very little." Hawke pushes me toward the counter. "Very few of us pay attention. ~ Cynthia Sax

Let's get going," Towser urged.
"Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere," said Towser. "Just start going and see where we end up. I have a feeling ... well, a feeling-"
"Yes, I know," said Fowler.
For he had the feeling, too. The feeling of high destiny. A certain sense of greatness. A knowledge that somewhere off beyond the horizons lay adventure and things greater than adventure. ~ Clifford D. Simak

I swear if-" Galen starts to name all kinds of ways to kill Rachel if she's involved, but he's cut off by the sound of his new favorite person to loathe approaching.
"Highness, I've heard your lovely sister plans to join us soon," Jagen says from behind them. "What a happy reunion."
Galen rolls his eyes before turning to face him. "You are correct, Jagen. Rayna has missed you. She loves that face you make when you're upset. She says it's the best impression of a rockfish she's ever seen."
Jagen doesn't like this. His lips curl into a snarl. "Go ahead, young prince. Have a laugh at my expense. I assure you it will be the last time."
Torag glides in front of Galen. "That sounds a lot like a threat. To my knowledge, threatening a Royal is still illegal."
Galen grabs his shoulder. "It's fine, Toraf. Let this squid release his ink. Ink will only last so long before it fades away in the current. When his protective cloud is gone, everyone will see what's really going on here."
Jagen nods. "We shall see, young ones." He rakes his eyes over Toraf. "Tell your mate that she stays with the rest of the Royals. If she tries to leave, I'll have her thrown in the Ice Caverns. She can wait there until the rest of you join her."
Toraf starts toward Jagen again, but Galen holds him back. "This is not the time," Galen says. Jagen gives Toraf a smug smile. Galen adds, "Besides, you saw his face when Antonis had him by the throat. We don't want him to faint befo ~ Anna Banks

Cade stood midfield, waiting for Zach to take his place at the line of scrimmage.

"When's the last time you threw a football?" Zach asked worriedly.

Aside from the few times Cade had tossed one around casually with friends, a long time. "About twelve years."

Zach threw him a panicked look.

"I won't push it," Cade said. It wasn't as if his shoulder was entirely unusable; in fact, on a daily basis it didn't bother him at all. His rotator cuff simply couldn't withstand the repetitive stress of competitive football. "I just want to see what I can do." He pointed emphatically. "And if the answer is 'not much,' you better not tell a soul. I've got a reputation to uphold here."

Zach smiled, loosening up. "All right. I don't want to stand in the way of you reliving your glory days or whatever."

"Good. But in case this all goes south, my car keys are in the outside pocket of my duffle bag. When you drive me to the emergency room, if I'm too busy mumbling incoherently from the pain, just tell them I've got Blue Cross Blue Shield insurance."

Zach's eyes went wide.

"I'm kidding, Zach. Now get moving. ~ Julie James

I think we can be very narrow-minded in this country; you see something that someone's done and immediately want them to do the same thing again - but if they don't, they're criticised for not doing the same thing again, but if they do they're just repeating themselves. ~ Andy Serkis

Luke used his thumb to wipe away her tears.
"No, Gracie. I want you in my arms. I'll hold you. I'll keep you. I'll make you forget whatever it is you're running away from."
"Don't," she took a huge breath. "I don't want to cry. I don't want you to see me cry."
"Then stay in my arms, and I'll make you smile. ~ Isobelle Cate