If You Hang Out With Me Quotes

I'm sure people tell you this constantly, but if you looked up 'incredibly beautiful' in the dictionary, there would be a picture of you." She cracked up a bit and said, "People never tell me that." "I bet they do." She cracked up a bit more. "They don't." "Then you hang out with the wrong people." "You might be right about that." "Because you're incredibly beautiful. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

I tell him I'd better get going, because Margot's coming home from Scotland tonight, and I want to stock the fridge with all her favorite foods.
Peter's face falls. "You don't want to hang out a little longer? I can take you to the store."
"I still have to clean up the upstairs, too," I say, standing up.
He tugs on my shirt and tries to pull me back onto the bed. "Come on, five more minutes."
I lie back down next to him and he cuddles in close, but I'm still thinking about the yearbook. I've been working on his scrapbook for months; the least he can do is write me a nice yearbook message.
"This is good practice for college," he murmurs, pulling me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. "The beds are small at UVA. How big are the beds at UNC?"
My back to him, I say, "I don't know. I didn't get to see the dorms."
He tucks his head in the space between my neck and shoulder. "That was a trick question," he says, and I can feel him smile against my neck. "To check and see if you visited a random UNC guy's dorm room with Chris. Congrats, you passed the test."
I can't help but laugh. ~ Jenny Han

I remember once, on a family skiing trip to the Alps, Dad's practical joking got all of us into a particularly tight spot.
I must have been about age ten at the time, and was quietly excited when Dad spotted a gag that was begging to be played out on the very serious-looking Swiss-German family in the room next door to us.
Each morning their whole family would come downstairs, the mother dressed head to toe in furs, the father in a tight-fitting ski suit and white neck scarf, and their slightly overweight, rather snooty-looking thirteen-year-old son behind, often pulling faces at me.
The hotel had the customary practice of having a breakfast form that you could hang on your door handle the night before if you wanted to eat in your room. Dad thought it would be fun to fill out our form, order 35 boiled eggs, 65 German sausages, and 17 kippers, then hang it on the Swiss-German family's door.
It was too good a gag to pass up.
We didn't tell Mum, who would have gone mad, but instead filled out the form with great hilarity, and sneaked out last thing before bed and hung it on their door handle.
At 7:00 A.M. we heard the father angrily sending the order back. So we repeated the gag the next day.
And the next.
Each morning the father got more and more irate, until eventually Mum got wind of what we had been doing and made me go around to apologize. (I don't know why I had to do the apologizing when the whole thing had been Dad's idea, but I gu ~ Bear Grylls

Style" comes on and we all go crazy, screaming in each other's faces and jumping up and down. Peter goes craziest of all. He keeps asking me if I'm having fun. He only asks out loud once, but with his eyes he asks me again and again. They are bright and hopeful, alight with expectation. With my eyes I tell him, Yes yes yes I am having fun.
We're starting to get the hang of slow dancing, too. Maybe we should take a ballroom-dancing class when I get to UVA so we can actually get good at it.
I tell him this, and fondly he says, "You always want to take things to the next level. Next-level chocolate chip cookies."
"I gave up on those."
"Next-level Halloween costumes."
"I like for things to feel special." At this, Peter smiles down at me and I say, "It's just too bad we'll never dance cheek to cheek."
"Maybe we could order you some dancing stilts."
"Oh, you mean high heels?"
He snickers. "I don't think there's such a thing as ten-inch heels."
I ignore him. "And it's too bad your noodle arms aren't strong enough to pick me up."
Peter lets out a roar like an injured lion and swoops me up and swings me around, just like I knew he would. It's a rare thing, to know someone so well, whether they'll pivot left or right. Outside of my family, I think he might be the person I know best of all. ~ Jenny Han

Now where's this artist?" His eyes darted around the room, landed on Gennie and clung. She thought she saw surprise, quickly veiled, then amusement as quickly suppressed, tug at the corners of his mouth.
"Daniel MacGregor," Grant said with wry formality. "Genvieve Grandeau."
A flicker of recognition ran across Daniel's face before he rose to his rather amazing height and held out his hand. "Welcome."
Gennie's hand was clasped, then enveloped. She had simultaneous impressions of strength, compassion, and stubbornness.
"You have a magnificent home, Mr. MacGregor," she said, studying him candidly. "It suits you."
He gave a great bellow of a laugh that might have shook the windows. "Aye.And three if your paintings hang in the west wing." His eyes slid briefly to Grant's before they came back to hers. "You carry your age well, lass."
She gave him a puzzled look as Grant choked over his Scotch. "Thank you."
"Get the artist a drink," he ordered, then gestured for her to sit in the chair next to his. "Now, tell me why you're wasting your time with a Campbell."
"Gennie happens to be a cousin of mine," Justin said mildly as he sat on the sofa beside his son. "On the aristocratic French side."
"A cousin." Daniel's eys sharpened, then an expression that could only be described as cunning pleasure spread over his face. "Aye,we like to keep things in the family. Grandeau-a good strong name.You've the look of a queen, with a bit of sorceress thro ~ Nora Roberts

I deal in information," he says to the smarmy, toadying pseudojournalist who
"interviews" him. He's sitting in his office in Houston, looking slicker than
normal. "All television going out to Consumers throughout the world goes
through me. Most of the information transmitted to and from the CIC database
passes through my networks. The Metaverse -- -the entire Street -- exists by
virtue of a network that I own and control.
"But that means, if you'll just follow my reasoning for a bit, that when I have
a programmer working under me who is working with that information, he is
wielding enormous power. Information is going into his brain. And it's staying
there. It travels with him when he goes home at night. It gets all tangled up
into his dreams, for Christ's sake. He talks to his wife about it. And,
goddamn it, he doesn't have any right to that information. If I was running a
car factory, I wouldn't let workers drive the cars home or borrow tools. But
that's what I do at five o'clock each day, all over the world, when my hackers
go home from work.
"When they used to hang rustlers in the old days, the last thing they would do
is piss their pants. That was the ultimate sign, you see, that they had lost
control over their own bodies, that they were about to die. See, it's the first
function of any organization to control its own sphincters. We're not even
doing that. So we're working on ~ Neal Stephenson

I had no particular problem about getting divorced. For all intents and purposes we already were divorced. And I had no emotional hang up about signing and sealing the official documents. If that's what she wanted, fine. It was a legal formality, nothing more.

But when it came to why, and how, things had turned out this way, the sequence of events was beyond me. I understood, of course, that over time, and as circumstances changed, a couple could grow closer, or move apart. Changes in a person's feelings aren't regulated by custom, logic, or the law. They're fluid, unstable, free to spread their wings and fly away. Like migratory birds have no concept of borders between countries.

But these were all just generalizations, and I couldn't easily grasp the individual case here-that this woman, Yuzu, refused to love this man, me, and chose instead to be loved by someone else. It felt terribly absurd, a horribly ugly way to be treated. There wasn't any anger involved (I think). I mean, what was I supposed to be angry with? What I was feeling was a fundamental numbness. The numbness your heart automatically activates to lessen the awful pain when you want some-body desperately and they reject you. A kind of emotional morphine. ~ Haruki Murakami

Before talking to my mom about how out of control I felt, I'd spent the night crying alone in the park I grew up going to, chain smoking, because the guy that I liked hadn't texted me back. And even amidst my tears and Camels and repeated utterings of "I'm going to die alone," I knew I looked fucking crazy. I knew if the guy could see me reacting this way, he'd block my number. But I still couldn't stop, and that's what scared me.

My emotions had become all-encompassing. Like the night I'd given my landlord notice, I couldn't see or feel anything other than the most extreme version of the worst-case scenario. Because here's the thing: in those polarizing moments of ups or downs, what you're feeling in that moment can't be reasoned with or told to slow down, let alone stop. I looked across the park at the swings my friends and I used to hang out on and wondered what the fuck was wrong with me. Why couldn't I feel the way I used to, once upon a time? I wanted to feel invincible the way I sometimes did -- or better yet, I wanted no feeling at all. ~ Anne T. Donahue

I say, Théoden King: shall we have peace and friendship, you and I? It is ours to command."
"We will have peace," said Théoden at last thickly and with an effort. Several of the Riders cried out gladly. Théoden held up his hand. "Yes, we will have peace," he said now in a clear voice, "we will have peace, when you and all your works have perished--and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar, Saruman, and a corrupter a men's hearts. You hold out your hand it to me, and I perceive only a finger of the claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold! Even if your war on me was just--as it was not, for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine for your own profit as you desired--even so, what will you say of your torches in Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Háma's body before the gates of the Hornburg, after he was dead. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanic. So much for the house of Eorl. A lesser son of great sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn elsewhither. But I fear your voice has lost its charm. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Do you think she's going to hang out your dirty laundry for all to see?"
"How can you say she has sense after what she pulled today? Bah! You don't know what you're talking about."
"What Willow did today was nothing more than an act of rebellion, a way to let off steam and let you know, in the only way she knew how, that your treatment of her is entirely unacceptable."
"Woman, what you need is a man, then maybe you wouldn't be putting your nose in everybody's business."
"Why,Mr. Vaughn, are you applying for the job?" Miriam asked, with an ill-humored smile.
"Hell,no!"
"Then I suggest you leave my personal life out of this. My life is in perfect order, which is more than can be said for yours!"
Owen grunted and took a pull on his pipe.
Well aware of his bold perusal, Miriam attacked her darning as if it were infinitely more engaging than any conversation with the man across the room from her.
Owen wasn't a handsome man by any standards with his bearlike build and ruddy complexion. And heaven knew he wasn't very likeable either. Thus, Miriam was at a complete loss to explain her powerful attraction to him. Good heavens, she thought, I haven't felt so giddy since that time on my eighteenth birthday when Hiriam pulled me behind Aunt Harriet's coachhouse and we... The landlady's face reddened. ~ Charlotte McPherren

You should have woken me. I would have taken a shift at the tiller."

"We actually considered it when you started to snore."

"I don't snore!"

"I beg to differ," Hadrian chided while chewing.

She looked around the skiff as each of them, even Etcher, nodded. Her face flushed.

Hadrian chuckled. "Don't worry about it. You can't be held accountable for what you do in your sleep."

"Still," she said, "it's not very ladylike."

"Well, if that's all you're worried about, you can forget it," Hadrian informed her with a wicked smirk. "We lost all illusions of you being prissy back in Sheridan."

How much better it was when they were silent.

"That's a compliment," he added hastily.

"You don't have much luck with the ladies, do you, sir?" Wally asked, pausing briefly and letting the paddles hang out like wings, leaving a tiny trail of droplets on the smooth surface of the river. "I mean, with compliments like that, and all."

Hadrian frowned at him, then turned back to her with a concerned expression. "I really did mean it as a compliment. I've never met a lady who would - well, without complaining you've been - " He paused in frustration, then added, "That little trick you managed back there was really great. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

You were just in South Dakota a couple of weeks ago," he pointed out. "Why didn't you get it then?"
"It wasn't available then." She brushed back a tiny strand of loose hair. "Don't cross-examine me, okay? It's been a long day."
He ran a hand around the back of his neck, under his braid of hair, and stared at her own hair in the tight bun at her nape as she replaced the errant strand. "I thought you took it down at night."
"At bedtime," she corrected.
His eyes narrowed. "Lucky Colby," he said deliberately.
She wasn't going to give him any rope to hang her with. She just smiled.
He glared at her. "He won't change," he said flatly.
"I don't care," she said. "I appreciate all you've done for me, Tate, but my private life is my own business, not yours."
"That's a hell of a way to talk to me."
"That works both ways," she replied, eyes narrowing. "What gives you the right to ask questions about the men I date?"
Her words made him mad. His lips compressed until they made a straight line. He looked like his father when he was angry. He finished his coffee in a tense silence and got to his feet. He glanced at his watch. "I've got to go. I just wanted to see how you were."
"You just wanted to see if Colby was here," she corrected and smiled mirthlessly when he blinked.
"You know I don't approve of Colby," he told her.
"Like I care?" she said.
He took a step toward her. His black eyes glittered with conflicting emotion ~ Diana Palmer

our situation reminded me of a fable I had read somewhere. Chased by a tiger, a man slips and falls over the edge of a mountain. As he falls, he manages to grab a bush growing by the side of the mountain and hangs on to it for dear life. The bush is laden with wild strawberries that hang tantalizingly near his mouth. As the tiger snarls above his head and a gorge stretches beneath his dangling feet, the man takes a bite from a luscious berry. 'How sweet,' he exclaims as he relishes its taste.

I do not remember the moral attached to the fable. It might have been a commentary on the ephemeral nature of life, on how foolish it is to imagine that there is happiness to be found in the world when death is certain and likely to happen at any time. Or it might have been an exhortation to seize the day and squeeze the most out of every moment, for, in any case, we are
all going to die. It might have made a reasonably good ad for strawberries, which were so good that you simply had to eat them, even if it was the last thing you did. ~ Indu Muralidharan

I eyed her. "You know I hang out with vampires, right? You could be scared of me like the others."
She scoffed. "You and your pretty boys don't scare me."
Jenna's mocking tone was soothing. If it wasn't for her and Hunter and Chloe, this whole transition thing would have been even worse. "Shush," I scolded her primly. "I am learning about the weirdo League of hunters who think they're in a comic book."
"Your family now too."
I drew back, horrified. "Excuse me, but after my parents, the Drakes are family. You lot are riffraff."
"The riffiest."
"That's not a word."
"Is so."
"What's it mean?"
Jenna glanced at Tyson. "Help me out here, Ty. You're the smart one."
He just shook his head. "Are you two always like this?"
Jenna and I exchanged mischievous smiles.
"We're just getting started. But I think we might be," I said. ~ Alyxandra Harvey

By the way, a Bulgarian I met lately in Moscow," Ivan went on, seeming not to hear his brother's words, "told me about the crimes committed by Turks and Circassians in all parts of Bulgaria through fear of a general rising of the Slavs. They burn villages, murder, outrage women and children, they nail their prisoners by the ears to the fences, leave them so till morning, and in the morning they hang them- all sorts of things you can't imagine. People talk sometimes of bestial cruelty, but that's a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel. The tiger only tears and gnaws, that's all he can do. He would never think of nailing people by the ears, even if he were able to do it.
These Turks took a pleasure in torturing children, -too; cutting the unborn child from the mothers womb, and tossing babies up in the air and catching them on the points of their bayonets before their mothers' eyes. Doing it before the mothers' eyes was what gave zest to the amusement. Here is another scene that I thought very interesting. Imagine a trembling mother with her baby in her arms, a circle of invading Turks around her. They've planned a diversion: they pet the baby, laugh to make it laugh. They succeed, the baby laughs. At that moment a Turk points a pistol four inches from the baby's face. The baby laughs with glee, holds out its little hands to the pistol, and he pulls the trigger in the baby's face and blows out its brains. A ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You know what drives me crazy? It's all these people talking about how great technology is, and how it saves all this time. But, what good is saved time, if nobody uses it? If it just turns into more busy work. You never hear somebody say, 'With the time I've saved by using my word processor, I'm gonna go to a Zen monastery and hang out'. I mean, you never hear that. ~ Jesse

So...like, you're lyin' on the battlefield with an arrow for a decoration, and everybody homes in on it like a beacon and they start pryin' it out WHILE you're conscious, and you're thinkin' "Ahh! Don't trouble yourselves, just leave it in there for goodness' sake! I got it first, it's mine! Don't touch it! I can use it to hang stuff on and--aahh!" And then when you finally faint from all the pain, they shake you and shout your name and try to wake you up, and you're thinkin' "Heeeeeeell no, I ain't comin' back to that! Why d'you think I fainted in the first place?!" Then they get all frantic-like and such and start hollerin' "Don't die on me, man!" and you're thinkin' "The only one gonna die here is you if you don't quit shaking me! ~ Jason

But Charlie and I have a very special relationship and I wanted to let her know I was home. Don't worry, I'm not one of those crazy cat ladies. I just like my favorite cat to know I'm home so we can talk, have dinner together, and watch Hoarders.
I assumed she was in our master bathroom because that's where the cats like to hang out when we're not home. They record most of their "cute kitty with loofah" YouTube videos in there.
Now, in order to let her know I was home I could have walked to the bathroom or yelled for her, which is what I usually do. But for some reason in that day I did something else. We have an intercom where I can push a button and talk to someone in another room. Sometimes it's fun to use when we have company. I'll get on it from a different part of the house and whisper stuff like, "Is there anything you ever really wanted to tell God? I'm listening." Oh, we have fun.
Anyway, I got on the intercom and I said, "Charlie, I'm home! Charlie!" and I hung up and I waited for Charlie to come running. I didn't think anything of it until I looked over and Portia was staring at me.
She said, "Did you just intercom the cat?"
And I looked at her and I had no choice but to say, "Yes. I did just intercom the cat."
In my defense, I was very tired and if I wanted to walk all the way to the bathroom to find Charlie I would have had to get on my Segway, ride it to the escalator, take the escalator to the third floor, cross the champagne fou ~ Ellen DeGeneres

Do you remember the time we tied a lasso to a tree limb and decided to swing across the creek like Tarzan?" Wyatt tipped up his frosty bottle and took a long pull.
"Yeah." Zane was already laughing. "As usual,you two decided that I'd be the one to try it out first.That way,if it broke,I'd be the one tossed into the creek."
"It stands to reason." Jesse chuckled. "You were the youngest. That's just the price you had to pay to hang out with us."
"And," Wyatt added, "you were always willing to go along with whatever we decided."
Zane shook his head. "Not when I used it to fly across the creek."
"And not when I followed him," Wyatt said with a laugh. "But Jesse, assured that it was safe,grabbed hold and was flying through the air when the branch snapped."
Amy looked over at her husband. "You landed in the creek?"
"Yeah? On the day after one of our biggest storms,with the water spilling over its banks and rushing so fast it carried me downstream half a mile or more."
She put a hand to her mouth to cover her shock and saw Cora do the same.
Wyatt laughed. "He was lucky Zane and I had our horses tethered nearby.We chased along the banks of the creek until we could get far enough ahead to toss him a tree branch to catch. By the time we hauled him out,he looked like a drowned rat and was spitting mad."
"I had a right to be.I swallowed half the creek."
Zane laughed. "But think how lucky we were that it happened to you instead of me. ~ R.C. Ryan

For me, it goes without saying that much of the dogma of many religions is harmful. Thinking other people will burn forever because they love the wrong person or worship the wrong god has done a whole lot of bad.
What I wanted was the part where people were asked to get together once a week to talk about how to be a good person and, like, hang out with their neighbors. It's pretty amazing that apparently the only way to get people to do that is to invent an all-seeing, kindhearted sky dad who will be super disappointed/burn you for eternity if you don't show up. ~ Hank Green

dont get me wrong oblivion
I never loved you kiddo
you that was always sticking around
spoiling me for everyone else
telling me how it would make
you nutty if I didnt let you
go the distance
and I gave you my breasts to feel
didnt I
and my mouth to kiss

O I was too good to you oblivion old kid thats all
and when I might have told you
to go ahead and croak yourselflike
you was always threatning you are
are going to do
I didnt
I said go on you inter-
est me
I let you hang around
and whimper
and Ive been getting mine
Listen

theres a fellow I love like I never love anyone else thats six
foot two tall with a face like any girl would die to kiss and a skin
like a little kittens
thats asked me to go to Murrays tonight with him and see the cab-
aret and dance you know
well
if he asks me to take another Im going to and if he asks me to take
another after that Im going to do that and if he puts me into a taxi
and tells the driver to take her easy and steer for the morning Im
going to let him and if he starts in right away putting it to me in
the cab
Im not going to whisper
Oblivion
do you get me
not that Im tired of automats and Childss and handling out ribbon to
old ladies that aint got three teeth and being followed home by pimps
and ~ E.E. Cummings

If you don't take me with you," she said, "I will follow you to New Orleans, and if you don't believe me, just wait and see. I won't be left behind, Steven." A muscle in his jaw bunched in suppressed anger; Steven knew Emma meant what she said. "All right, then, we'll compromise. We'll be married when we get to Spokane. That'll give you some protection against Macon, but remember this, Emma - if they hang me, don't wait around for the funeral. Macon wasn't bluffing - the minute the life goes out of me, he'll take you to bed, whether you want to go or not." Emma ~ Linda Lael Miller

Jay came over as soon as Violet called him; she didn't even have to give him a reason. He was there in less than ten minutes.
Of course, he'd heard about what had happened to Hailey. Everyone had. Buckley was a small town, and news traveled fast . . . especially bad news.
When he got there she told him what she was thinking about doing. It was nothing dangerous, at least as far as she was concerned, and she hadn't expected Jay to disagree with her about it. So when he did, she was more than a little bit surprised by his stubborn reaction.
"No way," he insisted, and his voice left little room for argument. "There is no way you're going to go around looking for this guy."
Violet was shocked by the tone of his voice, and by the harsh look he shot at her. She thought maybe he misunderstood her plan, so she tried to explain it to him again. "Jay, I'm only going to public places, like malls and parks, to see if I can get a feeling for who this guy is. Who knows, maybe he goes to places like that to find them, maybe he hands out there waiting to pick out a girl to . . . you know, kidnap." She tried to make her argument sound logical, but there was a desperate edge to her voice. "I'm not going out alone . . . you can go with me. We'll just hang out at different places to see if we can find him. And if we do, we'll call my uncle. It's not like we'd do anything stupid."
"'Anything stupid' would be going out to look for a killer. I won't let you go looking for t ~ Kimberly Derting

If and when I found him and he hadn't got his danger fix, he'd be way more than just disgruntled. More like royally ticked off. Not the best time to share my recent revelation. One that shocked the heck out of me. One I wasn't sure how to phrase.
"Jake, you're the love of my life."
Ugh.
"You complete me."
Too Jerry Maguire.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Gawd, no.
I felt my lip curl as I pictured him fixing his intense blue eyes on mine, waiting for me to explain. As if I could. This sudden about-face didn't even make sense to me. I just wanted him, dammit, even with his insane stunts, like hang glider tag. ~ Betsy Cook Speer

By the following morning, Anthony was drunk. By afternoon, he was hungover.
His head was pounding, his ears were ringing, and his brothers, who had been surprised to discover him
in such a state at
their club, were talking far too loudly.
Anthony put his hands over his ears and groaned.Everyone was talking far too loudly.
"Kate boot you out of the house?" Colin asked, grabbing a walnut from a large pewter dish in the middle
their table and
splitting it open with a viciously loud crack.
Anthony lifted his head just far enough to glare at him.
Benedict watched his brother with raised brows and the vaguest hint of a smirk. "She definitely booted
him out," he said to Colin. "Hand me one of those walnuts, will you?"
Colin tossed one across the table. "Do you want the crackers as well?"
Benedict shook his head and grinned as he held up a fat, leather-bound book. "Much more satisfying to
smash them."
"Don't," Anthony bit out, his hand shooting out to grab the book, "even think about it."
"Ears a bit sensitive this afternoon, are they?"
If Anthony had had a pistol, he would have shot them both, hang the noise.
"If I might offer you a piece of advice?" Colin said, munching on his walnut.
"You might not," Anthony replied. He looked up. Colin was chewing with his mouth open. As this had
been strictly forbidden while growing up in their household, Anthony could only deduce that Colin was
d ~ Julia Quinn

If you were to come out and hang out with me, just having fun at a nightclub or a party, that's kind of the version of Harland you'd get - silly, kind of always saying wacky things. ~ Harland Williams

I went to grab the perfect shade of green and realized I didn't have it. How could bamboo be colored with primary green? I blew out a frustrated breath and looked back into the box.

Rand was crouched beside me, his hand resting gently on my back. His touch was light but also strong and reassuring. I couldn't help but lean into him, even if I swore to myself I wasn't. "What's wrong?"

"This green isn't right for the bamboo." Because that was the most normal sentence I'd ever uttered.

"What about these colors?" he pulled out a pink crayon, then a blue, and finally a purple.

"Bamboo is green! But it isn't primary green."

To his credit, Rand didn't look at me like I had four heads. But then again, he picked up the blue crayon and handed it to me. "I think blue and pink and purple bamboo would be perfect."

My mouth hung open, and I tried to argue. "No! No, it's not."

Rand rubbed his hand over my head. "Kyle, it's coloring in a children's coloring book. You aren't entering this into an art contest. It can be blue and purple and yellow and orange if you want it to be. It can be out of the lines, it can be scribbles on the page. You aren't trying to imitate life right now. You're coloring a picture that I can hang on the fridge and we can smile at."

"The fridge?"

"I'm going to take the green away completely if you keep worrying about it."

I gasped in horror. "You wouldn't!" I ~ Carly Marie

What did Kavinsky say about it?" Chris asks me.
"Nothing yet. He's still at lacrosse practice."
My phone immediately starts to buzz, and the three of us look at each other, wide-eyed. Margot picks it up and looks at it. "It's Peter!" She hot-potatoes the phone to me. "Let's give them some privacy," she says, nudging Chris. Chris shrugs her off.
I ignore both of them and answer the phone. "Hello." My voice comes out thin as a reed.
Peter starts talking fast. "Okay, I've seen the video, and the first thing I'm going to say to you is don't freak out." He's breathing hard; it sounds like he's running.
"Don't freak out? How can I not? This is terrible. Do you know what they're all saying about me in the comments? That I'm a slut. They think we're having sex in that video, Peter."
"Never read the comments, Covey! That's the first rule of--"
"If you say 'Fight Club' to me right now, I will hang up on you."
"Sorry. Okay, I know it sucks but--"
"It doesn't 'suck.' It's a literal nightmare. My most private moment, for everybody to see. I'm completely humiliated. The things people are saying--" My voice breaks. Kitty and Margot and Chris are all looking at me with sad eyes, which makes me feel even sadder.
"Don't cry, Lara Jean. Please don't cry. I promise you I'm going to fix this. I'm going to get whoever runs Anonybitch to take it down."
"How? We don't even know who they are! And besides, I bet our whole school's seen it by now. ~ Jenny Han

You see, Squirt, there's heaven, and then there's hell. Hell is where they send all the bad people, like criminals and con artists and parking inspectors. And heaven is where they send all the good people, like you and me and that nice blonde from MasterChef.

What happens when you get there?

In heaven, you hang out with God and Jimi Hendrix, and you get to eat doughnuts whenever you want. In hell, you have to, uh . . . do the Macarena. Forever. To that "Grease Megamix."

Where do you go if you're good and bad?

What? I don't know. IKEA? ~ Brooke Davis

I thought I should call a matchmaker.

For me, this seemed like a radical step. It never occurred to me to hire a matchmaker when I was younger because I always believed I'd meet a man on my own. He'd be sitting next to me on an airplane, waiting in line behind me at the dry cleaner, working in the same office attending the same party, hanging out at the same coffeehouse.

It seemed ridiculous now, when I thought about the odds of this happening. After all, we don't subject other important aspects of out lives to pure chance. When you want to get a job you don't just hang out in the lobbies of office buildings, hoping an employer will strike up a conversation with you. When you want to buy a house, you don't walk aimlessly from neighborhood to neighborhood on your own, hoping to spot a house that happens to be for sale, matches your personal taste and contains the appropriate number of bedrooms and bathrooms. That's too random. If that's your only method of house hunting, you might end up homeless. So you hire a real estate broker to show you the potential homes that meet your needs. By the same token, why not hire a matchmaker to show you potential partners? ~ Lori Gottlieb

Just for future reference, don't use words like "love" anymore. It's a very sensitive word and it wears out quickly. Romeo barely says it, but John Hinckley filled up a whole journal with it. To put it into your terms, it's a currency that's easily devalued. Pretty soon you're saying it whenever you hang up the phone or whenever you leave. It turns into an apology. Then it's an excuse. Some assholes want it to be a bulletproof vest: don't hate me; I love you. But mostly it just means--more. More, more--give me something more. A couple of years from now, when you're on your own completely, if you really fall in love, if it really comes to that--and I pity you if it does--you have to look right down into the black of her eyes, right down into the emptiness in there and feel everything, absolutely everything she needs and you have to be willing to drown in it, Kevin. You'd have to want to be crushed, buried alive. Because that's what real love feels like--choking. They used to bury some women in their wedding dresses, you know. I thought it was because all those husbands were too cheap to spring for another gown, but now it makes sense: love is your first foot in the grave. That's why the second most abused word is "forever". ~ Peter Craig

Who do you hang out with? Natalia asks, looking over my shoulder. She's always done that. Wherever you are, whoever you are, she'll always look over your shoulder to see if there's someone more exciting to speak to. It used to make me feel paranoid. ~ Melina Marchetta

Well, what you ding this kind of work for--against your own people?"

"Three dollars a day. I got damn sick of creeping for my dinner--and not getting it. I got a wife and kids. We got to eat. Three dollars a day and it comes every day."

"But for your three dollars a day fifteen or twenty families can't eat at all. Nearly a hundred people have to go and wander on the roads for your three dollars a day. Is that right?"

"Can't think of that. Got to think of my own kids."

***

"Nearly a hundred people on the road for your three dollars. Where will we go?"

"And that reminds me, you better get out soon. I'm going through the dooryard after dinner...I got orders wherever there's a family not moved out--if I have an accident--you know, get too close and cave in the house a little--well, I might get a couple of dollars. And my youngest kid never had no shoes yet."

"I built this with my hands...It's mine. I built it. You bump it down--I'll be in the window with a rifle..."

"It's not me. There's nothing I can do. I'll lose my job if I don't do it. And look--suppose you kill me? They'll just hang you, but not long before you're hung there'll be another guy on the tractor, and he'll bump the house down. You're not killing the right guy."

***

Across the dooryard the tractor cut, and the hard, foot-beaten ground was seeded field, and the tractor cut through again; the uncut space was ~ John Steinbeck

If you wish to examine me to determine the sex of the child, you may do so." Her chin lifted. "But as you wish me to accept yourself, for your predatory nature, you must accept me as I am. My heart and soul may be Carpathian, but my mind is human. I will not be put on a shelf somewhere because you or my husband deems it necessary. Human women moved out of the dark ages a long time ago. My place is with Mikhail, and I must make my own decisions. If you feel the need to add your protection to Mikhail's I will be most grateful."
There was a long silence, and the red glow faded slowly from the slashing silver eyes. Gregori shook his head slowly, with infinite weariness. This woman was so different from his kind. Reckless. Compassionate. Unaware of every taboo she broke.
His hand went to her stomach, fingers splayed. He focused, aimed, sent himself out of his body.
His breath caught in his throat, and his heart seemed to melt. Deliberately he moved to surround the tiny being, merging his light and will for a heartbeat of time. He was taking no chances. This was his lifemate; he would ensure it with every means at his disposal, from the blood bonding to mental sharing. No one was as powerful as he. This female child was his and his alone. He could hang on until she came of age.
"We did it, didn't we?" Raven said softly, bringing Gregori back to his body. "She's a girl."
Gregori stepped away from Raven, holding on to his composure with his great strength of ~ Christine Feehan

You know, Piggly Wiggly never could hang on to a night stock manager. Your math skills would be a plus, maybe even your Spanish, and you don't mind staying up late."

"Piggly Wiggly, wow. I hadn't thought about that. I'll swing by, pick up an application tomorrow. But if it doesn't pan out maybe ... Never mind, it's a crazy idea."

"No, tell me. I want to hear it."

"Well, just as a backup plan, I did hear that Sony has an opening. They're, um, they're looking for a rock star. The hours suck, but it's no worse than night stock manager at Pigs. I bet it pays better too."

Isabel stopped in her tracks, playfully slapping his arm. "Aidan, that's genius! That's what you should do! I've heard you sing, you can carry a decent tune." She looked him up and down. "With a little work, you can probably pull off the image."

He tugged on her arms until she was in his. "Only if you're sure. Only if it's what we want."

"Aidan, it's who you are. I've known it since the day we brought that first guitar here. I'd never want to take that away. ~ Laura Spinella

Leta walked to the door and opened it with a ready smile for Colby Lane. And found herself looking straight into the eye of a man she hadn't seen face-to-face in thirty-six years.
Matt Holden matched her face against his memories of a young, slight, beautiful woman whose eyes loved him every time they looked at him. His heart spun like a cartwheel in his chest.
"Cecily said it was Colby," Leta said unsteadily.
"Strange. She phoned me and asked if I was free this evening." His broad shoulders shrugged and he smiled faintly. "I'm free every evening."
"That doesn't sound like the life of a playboy widower," Leta said caustically.
"My wife was a vampire," he said. "She sucked me dry of life and hope. Her drinking wore me down. Her death was a relief for both of us. Do I get to come in?" he added, glancing down the hall. "I'm going to collect dust if I stand out here much longer, and I'm hungry. A sack of McDonald's hamburgers and fries doesn't do a lot for me."
"I hear it's a presidential favorite," Cecily mused, joining them. "Come in, Senator Holden."
"It was Matt before," he pointed out. "Or are you trying to butter me up for a bigger donation to the museum?"
She shrugged. "Pick a reason."
He looked at Leta, who was uncomfortable. "Well, at least you can't hang up on me here. You'll be glad to know that our son isn't speaking to me. He isn't speaking to you, either, or so he said," he added. "I suppose he won't talk to you?" he add ~ Diana Palmer

Raquel? You coming?"
"I honestly never thought I would see the light of day again."
"Aww, come on. With me on your side? Of course things worked out."
She tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears. Thank you, Evie."
I threw my arms around her in a hug. "You don't have to thank me."
"I really do. You wonderful girl. I've missed you so much."
"Well, now that we're both unemployed fugitives, think of how much time we'll have to hang out!"
She laughed drily, and we walked with our arms around each other to the house. I opened the door and yelled, "Evie alert! Coming into the family room!"
"You made it!" Lend shouted back. "Just a sex, I'll go to the kitchen. Raquel's with you?"
"Yup!"
"Good job! Jack and Arianna got back a couple of minutes ago."
I walked into the family room to find Arianna and Jack sitting on the couch, arguing. "But here would have been no point to you being there if it hadn't been for my computer prowess."
"But your computer prowess wouldn't have mattered if you couldn't have gotten into the Center in the first place."
"Being a glorified taxi does not make you the bigger hero."
"Being a nerd who can tap on a keyboard or being able to navigate the dark eternities of the Faerie Paths . . . hmmm . . . which is a rarer and more valuable skill . . ."
I put my hands on my hips. "Okay, kids, take it elsewhere. Raquel and I have work to do."
"Evie," Raquel said. She was staring at Ja ~ Kiersten White

It taught me that it is easier to be an insider as an outsider than to be an outsider as an insider. If a white guy chooses to immerse himself in hip-hop culture and only hang out with black people, black people will say, "Cool, white guy. Do what you need to do." If a black guy chooses to button up his blackness to live among white people and play lots of golf, white people will say, "Fine. I like Brian. He's safe." But try being a black person who immerses himself in white culture while still living in the black community. Try being a white person who adopts the trappings of black culture while still living in the white community. ~ Trevor Noah

I've never quite mastered the art of holding my liquor," she replied. He watched her root around in her purse a moment, before pulling out a tube of lip balm.
As Jonas watched her apply it, he nearly got distracted from her answer. Leaning forward, Jonas murmured, "Can't hold your liquor, huh?"
She replaced the cap and dropped it back into her purse. "Not so much. I tend to get a bit too happy."
His eyebrows shot up and his cock came to full-alert status. Happy--he liked the sound of that. "And that's a bad thing?"
To his utter shock, Deanna blushed. "In my case it is."
Curiosity got the better of him. "Care to explain?"
The waiter returned with the check, forcing Jonas to drop the conversation while he fished out his credit card. Once they were alone again, Jonas waited, hoping Deanna would go into more detail. She didn't disappoint him. "All my inhibitions disappear. It's not a comfortable feeling for me."
She was killing him. An immediate picture of a carefree Deanna sprang to mind. He liked it a hell of a lot. "Most people enjoy letting it all hang out every once in a while. Taking life too seriously leads to an early grave."
"Maybe, but if I suddenly develop the urge, I'd rather be coherent."
"You don't like to give up control," he surmised.
She cocked her head to the side, as if unsure how to respond at first. "It's not that," she said. "I guess if I'm in the mood to go romping naked through a forest, for example, then ~ Anne Rainey

If I'm happy with the song and it's a hit song or not, for the rest of my life, I can hang my hat on knowing I did the best I could, and I'll enjoy getting out there and doing it. That's all that really matters for me. The icing on the cake is people actually enjoy it and sing it back to you. That's when you know that you've done something great. ~ Jake Owen

Ava darling, I am willing to admit that these stage crew freaks you hang out with are not entirely made of evil. But please, for the love of Han Solo, don't make me eat fish and chips with them. I just ate two pancakes and a quite disgusting sausage, and If I don't get some salad soon I honestly might die. ~ Lili Wilkinson

Sometimes you characters give me a pain in the back of my lap," said Manuel abruptly. "I hang around with you and listen to simple-minded gobbledegook in yard-long language, if it's you talking, Dran, and pink-and-purple sissification from the brat here. Why I do it I'll never know. And it goes that way up to the last gasp. So you're going to leave. Dran has to make a speech, real logical. Vaughn has to blow out a sigh and get misty-eyed." He spat.
"How would you handle it?" Dran asked, amused. Vaughn stared at Manuel whitely.
"Me? You really want to know?"
"This I want to hear," said Vaughn between her teeth.
"I'd wait a while - a long while - until neither of you was talking. Then I'd say, 'I joined the Marines yesterday.' And you'd both look at me a little sad. There's supposed to be something wrong with coming right out and saying something. Let's see. Suppose I do it the way Vaughn would want me to." He tugged at an imaginary braid and thrust out his lower lip in a lampoon of Vaughn's full mouth. He sighed gustily. "I have felt …" He paused to flutter his eyelashes. "I have felt the call to arms," he said in a histrionic whisper. He gazed off into the middle distance. "I have heard the sound of trumpets. The drums stir in my blood." He pounded his temples with his fists. "I can't stand it - I can't! Glory beckons. I will away to foreign strands."
Vaughn turned on her heel, though she made no effort to walk away. Dran roared with laughter.
"A ~ Theodore Sturgeon

I really doubt my parents are going to let me stay the night in a remote cabin with a bunch of boys."
"Oh, please, Snow White, Mike's dad'll be there. He's actually kinda funny…you know, in a weird dad kind of way. Don't worry, your purity will remain intact. Scout's honor." She made some sort of gesture with her fingers that Violet assumed was supposed to be an oath, but since Chelsea had never actually been a Girl Scout, it ended up looking more like a peace sign. Or something. Violet maintained her dubious expression.
But Chelsea wasn't about to be discouraged, and she tried to be the voice of reason. "Come on, I think Jay's checking to see if he can get the time off work. The least you can do is ask your parents. If they say no, then no harm, no foul, right? If they say yes, then we'll have a kick-ass time. We'll go hiking in the snow and hang out in front of the fireplace in the evening. We'll sleep in sleeping bags and maybe even roast some marshmallows. It'll be like we're camping." She beamed a superfake smile at Violet and clasped her hands together like she was begging. "Do it for me. Ple-eease."
Jules came back with their milk shake. It was strawberry, and Chelsea flashed Violet an I-told-you-so grin.
Violet finished her tea, mulling over the idea of spending the weekend in a snowy cabin with Jay and Chelsea. Away from town. Away from whoever was leaving her dead animals and creepy notes.
It did sound fun, and Violet did love the snow. And ~ Kimberly Derting