If I Was Your Girl Quotes

That´s your problem. You work so, so hard to be boring so you can impress boring people. ~ Meredith Russo

You know walls are there for a reason though, right? They keep things from falling apart. ~ Meredith Russo

Then Er Lang was looking at me ruefully. "You have taken at least fifty years of my life!"
I was stricken. "Take it back!"
"I can't. But fortunately, my life span is many times yours."
"How long can a dragon live?"
"A thousand years, if he is lucky. Not all of us are, of course." He raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry." I couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, my gaze was drawn to the strong line of his throat. If he had given me blood, I would surely have killed him. But Er Lang was struggling to sit up.
"I should have stopped you sooner. Though I now understand why men succumb to ghosts." He spoke lightly, but my ears blazed with mortification.
"You were the one who put your tongue in my mouth!" I blurted out, regretting it instantly. To talk about other people's tongues was the worst, revealing the depths of my inexperience. And yet, the memory of his made me shiver and burn, as though I had a fever. It hadn't been like this with Tian Bai; it was easy to understand where I stood with him. But he had been courting me, whereas Er Lang was an entirely different commodity. We did not have that sort of relationship, I reminded myself.
But he merely gave me a wry glance. "I was a little carried away."
"Thank you," I said at last. I realized it was the first time I had thanked him formally. ~ Yangsze Choo

Don't misunderstand, but how dare you risk your life? What the devil did you think, to leap over like that? You could have stayed safe on this side and just helped me over." Even to her ears, her tone bordered on the hysterical.
Beneath her fingers, the white lawn started to redden.
She sucked in a shaky breath. "How could you risk your life-your life, you idiot!" She leaned harder on the pad, dragged in another breath.
He coughed weakly, shifted his head.
"Don't you dare die on me!"
His lips twisted, but his eyes remained closed. "But if I die"-his words were a whisper-"you won't have to marry, me or anyone else. Even the most censorious in the ton will consider my death to be the end of the matter. You'll be free."
"Free?" Then his earlier words registered. "If you die? I told you-don't you dare! I won't let you-I forbid you to. How can I marry you if you die? And how the hell will I live if you aren't alive, too?" As the words left her mouth, half hysterical, all emotion, she realized they were the literal truth. Her life wouldn't be worth living if he wasn't there to share it. "What will I do with my life if you die?"
He softly snorted, apparently unimpressed by-or was it not registering?-her panic. "Marry some other poor sod, like you were planning to."
The words cut. "You are the only poor sod I'm planning to marry." Her waspish response came on a rush of rising fear. She glanced around, but there was no one in sight. Help had yet ~ Stephanie Laurens

My beloved,
I write to you from Rawalpindi, with the help of a Turkic-speaking imam, a kind man with a twinkle in his eyes and a soft spot for lovers. Now two years after I left Chinese Turkestan, I am about to embark on a solo journey there to find you, and my heart shakes with both hope and dread.
If I do not find you, then I will leave this letter in our cave, and pray that God willing, someday, as you ride by, you will be moved by an inexplicable urge to see the place where we had been so happy.
I was a fool to leave. If you can forgive me, please come and find me in Rawalpindi. Ask for Arvand the gem dealer at the British garrison, and they will know where to direct you.
I enclose a bar of chocolate, a packet of tea from Darjeeling, and all my fervent wishes for your well-being and happiness.
The one who loves you, always ~ Sherry Thomas

Once I was asked be a seatmate on a trans-Pacific flight....what instruction he should give his fifteen-year-old daughters, who wanted to be a writer. [I said], "Tell your daughter three things." Tell her to read...Tell her to read whatever interests her, and protect her if someone declares what she's reading to be trash. No one can fathom what happens between a human being and written language. She may be paying attention to things in the words beyond anyone else's comprehension, things that feed her curiosity, her singular heart and mind. ...Second, I said, tell your daughter that she can learn a great deal about writing by reading and by studying books about grammar and the organization of ideas, but that if she wishes to write well she will have to become someone. She will have to discover her beliefs, and then speak to us from within those beliefs. If her prose doesn't come out of her belief, whatever that proves to be, she will only be passing along information, of which we are in no great need. So help her discover what she means.
Finally, I said, tell your daughter to get out of town, and help her do that. I don't necessarily mean to travel to Kazakhstan, or wherever, but to learn another language, to live with people other than her own, to separate herself from the familiar. Then, when she returns, she will be better able to understand why she loves the familiar, and will give us a fresh sense of how fortunate we are to share these things.
Read. Find out ~ Barry Lopez

I daresay he is not happy that his daughter is now unchaperoned. A gentleman would bid his adieu."
"You can't leave!"
The words hung in the air.Sophia hid a wince and said again, in a more measured tone, "I'm sorry. I'm distraught over my father."
MacLean gave her a devastatingly sexy half-smile. "You misunderstood me; I said, a gentleman would bid his adieu." His voice, low and soft, rolled over her senses like liguid silk. "Fortunately for us both, I am not a gentleman."
"No?" She flicked a finger at the lace on his wrist. "You dress like one."
"I dress like a dandy. Or,as my oldest brother, Alexander, often says, like a 'damned dandy.'"
Her lips quirked. "Your brother sounds a bit harsh."
"You have no idea." He smiled. "As I was saying, dressing fashionably does not make me a gentleman."
"Fine.You are not a gentleman, and I am far from a child," she returned with a lofty wave of her hand. "I don't need my father's presence for protection."
"But perhaps I do."
She had to smile. "You don't need protection from me, Lord MacLean. I don't bite-though if I don't get something to eat soon, I may change my mind."
His eyes sparkled with laughter. "By all means, then, let us eat." He led the way to the dining room, standing aside to allow her to enter.
As she brushed past him, a hot sensation told her that his gaze was lingering on her posterior. She glanced back and found that she was correct. "Lord MacLean!"
He reluc ~ Karen Hawkins

I mean, we don't have to worry about it until winter, anyway," she said. "I was just wondering if you felt cured."
I didn't know what to tell her. I didn't feel cured. I felt like what Cole said - almost cured. A war survivor with a phantom limb. I still felt that wolf that I'd been: living in my cells, sleeping uneasily, waiting to be coaxed out by weather or a rush of adrenaline or a needle in my veins. I didn't know if that was real or suggested. I didn't know if one day I would feel secure in my skin, taking my human body for granted.
"You look cured," Grace said. Just her face was visible at the end of the shower curtain, looking in at me. She grinned and I yelled. Grace reached in just far enough to shut off the tap.
"I'm afraid," she said, whipping the shower curtain open all the way and presenting me with my towel, "this is the sort of thing you'll have to put up with in your old age." I stood there, dripping, feeling utterly ridiculous, Grace standing opposite, smiling with her challenge. There was nothing for it but to get over the awkwardness. Instead of taking the towel, I took her chin with my wet fingers and kissed her. Water from my hair ran down my cheeks and onto our lips. I was getting her shirt all wet, but she didn't seem to mind. A lifetime of this seemed rather appealing. I said gallantly, "That better be a promise. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Oh sure, and you know who listens to them? Pansy, overeducated know-it-alls, and you know who listens to them? Nobody! Who's going to care about some PBS-NPR fringe minority that's out of touch with the mainstream? The more those elitist eggheads shouted "The Dead Are Walking," the more most real Americans tuned them out.


So, let me see if I understand your position.


The administration's position.


The administration's position, which is that you gave this problem the amount of attention that you thought it deserved.


Right.


Given that at any time, government always has a lot on its plate, and especially at this time because another public scare was the last thing the American people wanted.


Yep.


So you figured that the threat was small enough to be "managed" by both the Alpha teams abroad and some additional law enforcement training at home.


You got it.


Even though you'd received warnings to the contrary, that it could never just be woven into the fabric of public life and that it actually was a global catastrophe in the making.


[Mister Carlson pauses, shoots me an angry look, then heaves a shovelful of "fuel" into his cart.]


Grow up. ~ Max Brooks

SoulsThat we might break these molds
And free our restless souls
Start to believe
That we can rise above
Our pettiness and love
Like we ain't loved before
Free on this earth
As the surf that rolls
And crashes on the shore
And hey now don't run and hide
Your little heart away
If it's gone
We'll sure never find it
Pining for lost innocence
Tantalisingly I saw
Our shadows moving through the door
Traces from a different time
When I was yours and you were truly mine
All mine ~ David Gray

But the truth is that I don't want to simply offer others a fleeting moment of "inspiration." I want my story to spark real change. An aha moment becomes most meaningful when it leads us to do more. Dream bigger. Move past our so-called limitations. Defy expectations. Bounce back with the resilience that every single one of us was born with. I didn't write this book because I want you to say, "Wow, look at what that girl overcame - good for her." I'm sharing my story because I want you to see what's possible in your own life. Right here. Right now. Starting the second you pick up your pen and create your own amazing narrative. The words of the Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu have always resonated with me: "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." What follows is my first step. My first stumble. My first dance. My first dream. ~ Amy Purdy

When I tell you to take guards, fucking take guards. These bastards owe me their fucking loyalty for a reason and if I tell them to hold your fucking handbag and paint your toenails, they'll bloody to it!" He spun at the guard who was standing silently by the door. "If you ever paint her toenails, I'll fucking kill you. ~ Elizabeth Hunter

I knew a girl who was so different, so darling, so ahead of her time that people mocked her until the day they found themselves imitating her. Do you know what she used to say? She used to say "The people who talk behind your back are destined to stay there" behind your back. Never to catch up. That woman was your mother ~ Elizabeth Rudnick

That's it," Mabel said, getting up. She tossed her napkin on the table. "No. That is not right. I don't know what you just said, but whatever it was, I'm pretty certain it was pure hokum. I don't want to dance. I don't want to hear about your plans for a summer house. I am not your sister. And if I were your sister, I'd have to tell people you'd been adopted as an act of charity. Please, don't get up. ~ Libba Bray

What's your greatest regret?" she asked.
He turned to look at her, then focused his eyes on the windshield in front of him. "You."
She felt an ache in her chest. "That you admitted you loved me? Or that you took me with you?"
"Both."
"Will it help if I say I'm in love with you?"
He shot another quick look in her direction, but a sudden gust of wind hit, and he had to focus on sideslipping the plane.
When it was steady again, he focused piercing gray eyes on her and asked, "Are you in love with me?"
"I think so. ~ Joan Johnston

Mom." I couldn't believe she was doing this again. She was taking this moment, this time when I was strongest, away from me.

"I don't care what I have to do," she said, her voice low and even. "I don't care if I have to send you away or switch schools. I don't care if I have to follow you twenty-four hours a day, you will not see him, Halley. You will not destroy yourself this way."

"Why are you just assuming I'm going back to him?" I asked her, just as she was drawing in breath to make another point.

"Why don't you ask me what I said to him out there?"

She shut her mouth, caught off guard. "What?"

"Why don't you ever wait a second and see what I'm planning, or thinking, before you burst in with your opinions and ideas? You never even give me a chance."

"Yes, I do," she said indignantly.

"No," I said. "You don't. And then you wonder why I never tell you anyone or share anything with you. I can never trust you with anything or share anything with you. I can never trust you with anything, give you any piece of me without you grabbing it to keep for yourself."

"That's not true," she said slowly, but it was just now hitting her, I could see it. "Halley, you don't always know what's at stake, and I do."

"I will never learn," I said to her slowly, "until you let me."

And so we stood there in the kitchen, my mother and I, facing off over everything that had built up since J ~ Sarah Dessen

What must I say to God when I meet Him? What shall I say to Him for my sins?'

'I shouldn't mention the word,' I said. 'He'll be the best judge of your life. If you've got to say anything I should say, "You sent us forth into the world incomplete and therefore weak. With my own life, in these circumstances, and according to my own nature, I did what I could to secure happiness. But I did not even know what happiness was, or where to look for it, and it was whilst I was in search of it that I dare say I got a little muddled."' -- Hindoo Holiday ~ J.R. Ackerley

These same ABCs couldn't speak Chinese and didn't care---but you don't have shit without your native tongue. African slaves were forced by threat of physical punishment to abandon their native languages, but a lot of us just gave ours up with a shrug---these Uncle Chans convinced us to assimilate, shut the fuck up, and play the part. What they didn't understand is that after your have the money and degrees, you can't buy your identity back. I wasn't worried about degrees, but I cared about my roots. Even if I hated what it meant to be an Asian in t he American wilderness, i respected the Chinese home I was raised in. Usually I wasn't so vocal about Asian identity, but without my parents around, I felt a sudden duty to say something myself. It's funny how annoying I thought my mom was, but as soon as she wasn't around, i carried the torch for her. ~ Eddie Huang

I know I said this before, but it bears repeating. You know Tate won't like you staying with me."
"I don't care," she said bitterly. "I don't tell him where to sleep. It's none of his business what I do anymore."
He made a rough sound. "Would you like to guess what he's going to assume if you stay the night in my apartment?"
She drew in a long breath. "Okay. I don't want to cause problems between you, not after all the years you've been friends. Take me to a hotel instead."
He hesitated uncharacteristically. "I can take the heat, if you can."
"I don't know that I can. I've got enough turmoil in my life right now. Besides, he'll look for me at your place. I don't want to be found for a couple of days, until I can get used to my new situation and make some decisions about my future. I want to see Senator Holden and find another apartment. I can do all that from a hotel."
"Suit yourself."
"Make it a moderately priced one," she added with graveyard humor. "I'm no longer a woman of means. From now on, I'm going to have to be responsible for my own bills."
"You should have poured the soup in the right lap," he murmured.
"Which was?"
"Audrey Gannon's," he said curtly. "She had no right to tell you that Tate was your benefactor. She did it for pure spite, to drive a wedge between you and Tate. She's nothing but trouble. One day Tate is going to be sorry that he ever met her."
"She's lasted longer than the others."
"You haven ~ Diana Palmer

Why are you here?" My voice sounded breathless.
As if it should've been obvious, Cole said, "I came here to offer you eternal life.Again."
I pushed him away from him. "I already made my choice."
"Yes,but it's obviously the wrong choice. Return with me. To the Everneath. And we'll live in the High Court. And you won't be a battery in the Tunnels. You could be a queen."
"The Everneath has a High Court?"
"Of course.It's where Osiris and Isis ruled.Hades and Persephone.Every realm in every dimension has people who give orders and people who take orders. And I'm tired of taking orders,Nick."
I grimaced. "That has nothing to do with me."
He paused and let out a little sigh. "Then I'm saying it wrong,beause it has everything to do with you. I want what Hades and Persephone had, and I can't do it without you.The only time the queen of the Everneath has been overthrown is when an Everliving has found his perfect match. I've spent my whole life-and it's a long one,trust me-looking for my perfect match,and it's you. I knew you were different from the first moment I met you.The first moment you placed your hands on mine.You remember?"
I nodded. It had been the night we first met.
"Your cheeks turned red,and I was gone for you." He shook his head,and his lips quirked up in a smile. "I know you felt it too.The connection between us. It started even before the Feed."
I looked away,because my cheeks were getting warm thinking about it, and I ~ Brodi Ashton

I wish I had been less keen to inject my own opinions, but I was a teenager and your teenage self is generally an idiot compared to the adult you. That's the way it should be. If it's the other way around, you have a problem. ~ Emma Forrest

As far as I could tell, life was nothing but a forced march down a mined highway. Even if you did everything you were supposed to do, sooner of later if was your turn to step on a claymore. ~ Jerry Stahl

Is she really old enough to have crushes on boys? I feel like she's too young for all that."
"I had crushes on boys when I was nine," I tell him. I'm still thinking about Kitty. I wonder how I can make it so she isn't mad at me anymore. Somehow I don't think snickerdoodles will cut it this time.
"Who?" Josh asks me.
"Who what?" Maybe if I can somehow convince Daddy to buy her a puppy…
"Who was your first crush?"
"Hmm. My first real crush?" I had kindergarten and first- and second-grade crushes aplenty, but they don't really count. "Like the first one that really mattered?"
"Sure."
"Well…I guess Peter Kavinsky."
Josh practically gags. "Kavinsky? Are you kidding me? He's so obvious. I thought you'd be into someone more…I don't know, subtle. Peter Kavinsky's such a cliché. He's like a cardboard cutout of a 'cool guy' in a movie about high school."
I shrug. "You asked."
"Wow," he says, shaking his head. "Just…wow."
"He used to be different. I mean, he was still very Peter, but less so." When Josh looks unconvinced, I say, "You're a boy, so you can't understand what I'm talking about."
"You're right. I don't understand!"
"Hey, you're the one who had a crush on Ms. Rothschild!"
Josh turns red. "She was really pretty back then!"
"Uh-huh." I give him a knowing look. "She was really 'pretty.'" Our across-the-street neighbor Ms. Rothschild used to mow her lawn in terry-cloth short shorts and a string bikini top. ~ Jenny Han

If I was your mirror, you would look for me more, than you do me. ~ Anthony Liccione

I cannot decide whether it is an illness or a sin, the need to write things down and fix the flowing world in one rigid form. Bear believed writing dulled the spirit, stilled some holy breath. Smothered it. Words, when they've been captured and imprisoned on paper, become a barrier against the world, one best left unerected. Everything that happens is fluid, changeable. After they've passed, events are only as your memory makes them, and they shift shapes over time. Writing a thing down fixes it in place as surely as a rattlesnake skin stripped from the meat and stretched and tacked to a barn wall. Every bit as stationary, and every bit as false to the original thing. Flat and still and harmless. Bear recognized that all writing memorializes a momentary line of thought as if it were final.
But I was always word-smitten. ~ Charles Frazier

They fire lots of bullets very, very quickly. Quicker than anything else."
I looked up and around the bedroom, the mismatched furniture, the weirdly firm light. "Why? What could you hunt with those? What could they have to do with anything?"
"I don't know," he replied. "That's what's so unnerving."
I rubbed a hand to my forehead, feeling an ache beginning to build behind my skull. "Armand."
His eyes went to mine.
I had to say this carefully; I had no wish to add to his despair, but I couldn't let it go. "Do you think…do you suppose it's possible that your father might…mean to do you any harm?"
But I'd actually made him smile. A real one, too, even if it came acerbic and thin. "With a pair of Vickers? Not unless he means to mount them in the hallway and spry me with bullets when I'm not paying attention. Seems like rather a spot of work for him. Surely even an unwelcome heir is better than none."
I returned his smile as I pulled away my hand. "I think we need to teach you how to Turn to smoke, just in case. It's a handy thing to be able to vanish in a hurry."
His smile widened, but there was no humor left to it. "Handy." He fell back against the blankets of the bed, his eyes gone shiny and hard. "If I could vanish into smoke, Eleanore, I'd leave this place and never return. That's a promise."
"Just like Rue," I said softly. ~ Shana Abe

Except that Morgan's face was too pinched and thin to pull off the look. "Your point being?" I did my best to keep from looking nervous or impressed. Truth be told, I was both. Morgan was my Warden, assigned to me by the White Council to make sure I didn't bend or break any of the Laws of Magic. He hung about and spied on me, mostly, and usually came sniffing around after I'd cast a spell of some kind. I would be damned if I was going to let the White Council's guard dog see any fear out of me. Besides, he would ~ Jim Butcher

He swore, raked his hands through his hair and tried to pinpoint the moment she'd so neatly turned the tables on him, when the pursued had become the pursuer. "I don't like forward women."
The sound she made was something between a snort and a giggle, and was girlish and full of fun. It made him want to grin. "Now that's a lie, and you don't do it well. I've noticed you're an honest sort of man, Brian. When you don't want to speak your mind, you say nothing-and that's not often. I like that about you,even if it did irritate me initially.I even like your slightly overwide streak of confidence. I admire your patience and dedication to the horses, your undertstanding and affection for them. I've never been involved with a man who's shared that interest with me."
"You've never been involved with a man at all."
"Exactly.That's just one reason why. And to continue, I appreciate the kindness you showed my mother when she was sad,and I appreciate the part of you that's struggling to back away right now instead of taking what I've never offered anyone before."
She laid a hand on his arm as he stared at her with baffled frustration. "If I didn't have that respect and that liking for you,Brian,we wouldn't be having this conversation no matter how attracted I might be to you."
"Sex complicates things, Keeley."
"I know."
"How would you know? You've never had any."
She gave his arm a quick squeeze. "Good point.So,you want to try the tack room?" When ~ Nora Roberts

I always wondered what your type was, but I never imagined it would be a hard-core rocker!"
Here we go. I had been hoping he'd be too sleepy for this conversation.
"He's not my type. If I had a type it would be...nice. Not some hotheaded, egocentric male slut."
"Did you just call him a male slut?" Jay laughed. "Dang, that's, like, the worst language I've ever heard you use."
I glowered at him, feeling ashamed, and he laughed even harder.
"Oh, hey, I've got a joke for you. What do you call someone who hangs out with musicians?"
He raised his eyebrows and I shrugged. "I don't know. What?"
"A drummer!" I shook my head while he cracked up at his joke for another minute before hounding me again about Kaidan. "All right, so you talked about my CDs, you had some cultural confusion with some of his lingo, then you talked about hot dogs? That can't be everything. You looked seriously intense."
"That's because he was intense, even though we weren't really talking about anything. He made me nervous."
"You thought he was hot, didn't you?"
I stared out my window at the passing trees and houses. We were almost to school.
"I knew it!" He smacked the steering wheel, loving every second of my discomfort. "This is so weird. Anna Whitt has a crush."
"Fine, yes. He was hot. But it doesn't matter, because there's something about him I don't like. I can't explain it. He's...scary."
"He's not the boy next door, if that's what you mean ~ Wendy Higgins

Fynn, I love you.' When Anna said that, every word was shattered with the fullness of meaning she packed into it. Her 'I' was a totality. Whatever this 'I' was for Anna it was packed tight with being. Like the light that didn't fray, Anna's 'I' didn't fray either; it was pure and all of one piece. Her use of the word 'love' was not sentimental or mushy, it was impelling and full of courage and encouragement. For Anna, 'love' meant the recognition of perfectibility in another. Anna 'saw' a person in every part. Anna 'saw' a 'you'. Now that is something to experience, to be seen as a 'you', clearly and definitely, with no parts hidden. Wonderful and frightening. I'd always understood that it was Mister God who saw you clearly and in your entirety but then all Anna's efforts were directed to being like Mister God, so perhaps the trick is catching if only you try hard enough. ~ Fynn

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

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

But the thing is, you raved and you bitched when you came home about the stupidity of audiences. The goddam unskilled laughter coming from the fifth row. And that's right, that's right - God knows it's depressing. I'm not saying it isn't. But that's none of your business, really. That's none of your business, Franny. An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's. You have no right to think about these things, I swear to you. Not in any real sense, anyway.

. . . I started bitching one night before the broadcast. Seymour'd told me to shine my shoes just as I was going out the door with Waker. I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, the announcer was a moron, the sponsors were morons, and I just damn well wasn't going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn't see them anyway, where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady.

. . . And don't you know - listen to me, now - don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy."

For joy, apparently, it was all Franny could do to hold the phone, even with both hands . . . as if all of what little or much wisdom there is in the world were suddenly hers. ~ J.D. Salinger

There are some parts of the world that, once visited, get into your heart and won't go. For me, India is such a place. When I first visited, I was stunned by the richness of the land, by its lush beauty and exotic architecture, by its ability to overload the senses with the pure, concentrated intensity of its colors, smells, tastes, and sounds. It was as if all my life I had been seeing the world in black and white and, when brought face-to-face with India, experienced everything re-rendered in brilliant technicolor. ~ Keith Bellows

But all of these hours were strained by fear, as if fear were a brooding specter, or a strange, lost bird trapped in our little town, whose sooty wing flecked every living thing with a shadow that would never wash. I didn't know what I was afraid of, nor why I worried so much, nor why this thing that could so easily cause panic felt like hope sometimes and, like hope in the darkest moments, brought such joy, unreal joy, joy with a noose tied around it. The thud my heart gave when I saw him unannounced both terrified and thrilled me. I was afraid when he showed up, afraid when he failed to, afraid when he looked at me, more frightened yet when he didn't. ~ Andre Aciman

Kyle eased back in his chair, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "This is an interesting situation, Jordo . . . What's it worth to you to keep this information under wraps? Because I'm going to need some income when I get out of this place, and I hear that wine business of yours is really taking off."

"Get real. You owe me."

Kyle sat up, indignant at that. "For what?"

Jordan folded her arms on the table. "Sophomore year. You took Mom's car out of the garage in the middle of the night - without a license - to drive over to Amanda Carroll's. Dad thought he heard a noise when you tried to sneak back in, so I distracted him by saying that I'd seen a strange person in the backyard. While he was looking out my bedroom window, you crept by and mouthed, 'I owe you.' Well, now I want to collect."

"That was seventeen years ago," Kyle said. "I'm pretty sure there's a statute of limitations on IOUs."

"I don't recall hearing any disclaimers, expirations, or caveats at the time."

"I was a minor. The contract's not valid."

"If you want to weasel your way out of this, I suppose that's true." Jordan waited, knowing she had him. Despite the impression one might get from the orange jumpsuit, her brother was quite honorable. And he always kept his word.

"Fine," he grumbled. "I finally get some dirt on you, Ms. Perfect, for the first time in thirty-three years, and it's wasted." He grinned. "Good thing that trip to ~ Julie James

It had been communicated to me through the odd, secret whispers of women that a female's nose must never shine. In war, in famine, in fire, it had to be matte, and no one got a lipstick without the requisite face powder. … I was taunted by the problem: how could someone write something like the 'Symposium' and make sure her nose did not shine at the same time? It didn't matter to me that I was reading a translation. I'd read Plato's brilliant, dense prose and not be able to tear myself away. Even as a reader my nose shined. It was clearly either/or. You had to concentrate on either one or the other. In a New York minute, the oil from Saudi Arabia could infiltrate your house and end up on your nose. It didn't hurt, it didn't make noise, it didn't incapacitate in any way except for the fact that no girl worth her salt took enough time away from vigilance to read a book let alone write one. ~ Andrea Dworkin

I was thinking about watching a movie or something," said Catherine.
"That sounds great," said Ted. "Penelope, do you still have that TV?"
"Yes," said Penelope. Was he inviting her? She would make it clear that she was not attending. "You can use it. I think there is a parade in Boston that I wanted to go to."
Ted started laughing.
"Penelope, don't be ridiculous. If we are watching TV in your room, then you have to come! I don't think there is a parade happening anywhere. ~ Rebecca Harrington

A compass, I learnt when I was surveying, it'll ... it'll point you true north from where you're standing, but it's got no advice about the swamps, deserts and chasms that you'll encounter along the way. If in pursuit of your destination, you plunge ahead heedless of obstacles, and achieve nothing more than to sink in a swamp, what's the use of knowing true north? ~ Tony Kushner

recant, v.

I want to take back at least half of the "I love you"s, because I didn't mean them as much as the other ones. I want to take back the book of artsy photos I gave you, because you didn't get it and said it was hipster trash. I want to take back what I said about you being an emotional zombie. I want to take back the time I called you "honey" in front of your sister and you looked like I had just shown her pictures of us having sex. I want to take back the wineglass I broke when I was mad, because it was a nice wineglass and the argument would have ended anyway. I want to take back the time we had sex in a rent-a-car, not because I feel bad about the people who got in the car after us, but because it was massively uncomfortable. I want to take back the trust I had while you were away in Austin. I want to take back the time I said you were a genius, because I was being sarcastic and I should have just said you'd hurt my feelings. I want to take back the secrets I told you so I can decide now whether to tell them to you again. I want to take back the piece of me that lies in you, to see if I truly miss it. I want to take back at least half the "I love you"s, because it feels safer that way. ~ David Levithan

That night I looked Stephanie [Burt] up online and started reading more about her work...I kept encountering a striking factoid...: she's often cited as the most influential poetry critic of her generation. And she's openly trans. This is not the world I was taught I would grow into when I was a young trans child -- the one where transgender people are heard, are brilliant, are influential, are even the best. At anything. Being trans, I'd learned subliminally, was supposed to keep you from being that -- even if you loved your trans self, and even if some other trans people and a few allies did too, the world at large would keep your potential tamped down."

- from "Surface Difficulty: An Adventure in Reading Trans Poetry," Original Plumbing Magazine 2014 ~ Mitch Kellaway

What if I had refused your request?" she said with a shake of her head. He laughed. "Then I would have had my carriage turned around, of course." She folded her arms with a smile she couldn't help. "You are always so certain of yourself." His smile faded slightly. "Never with you. You forever set me off my axis." He inched closer and suddenly there was a tension in the carriage that had nothing to do with teasing flirtation or friendly discussion. He wanted her. And Vivien wanted him equally. ~ Jess Michaels

I'm Level Eighty on Warcraft."
The clerk was stunned. "You're Level Eighty?! Are you Horde, or Alliance?"
"What, are you kidding me? I'm Horde, of course! I'm a Level Eighty Undead Priestess. What Guild are you in?"
"I'm a Horde Blood Elf Paladin. Level 30. I'm in the Blood Roses Guild."
"Have you ever seen a 'Spectral Tiger' loot card? I bet you never have."
The museum clerk thought about her situation. The psychic pressure was mounting on her. She was in a state of moral anguish. "Look, Signora, I'd love to help your American clients there ... But if my director knew I was Warcrafting here at work, she'd kill me! Besides, you don't have any 'Spectral Tiger' in your purse, I bet. ~ Bruce Sterling

Wordlessly James gathered me up and buried his face in my hair. "I was supposed to be your first affair."
A lump formed in my throat, and I hugged him back fiercely. "I don't think it counts as an affair if the thought of Cronus makes me sick to my stomach."
"So there's still hope for me, after all. ~ Aimee Carter