Last Time I Trusted A Man He Played Me Quotes

What did she mean when she said she would lose everything if she married me?" he asked aloud. "Perhaps she's in love with someone. If so-"
"There are young women," Westcliff pointed out dryly, "who have goals other than finding a husband."
Folding his arms across his chest, Gabriel sent him a sardonic glance. "Are there? I've never met one of those."
"I believe you may have just now." The earl glanced back in the direction Lady Pandora had gone. "A wallflower," he said softly, with a faint, reminiscent smile on his lips.
Aside from his father, there was no man Gabriel trusted more than Westcliff, who had always been like an uncle to him. The earl was the kind of man who would always make the moral choice, no matter how difficult. ~ Lisa Kleypas

He does not care for me. He brought me to the village to feed his child."
"He gave you Red Star."
Jesse denied its significance. "That was only so that I would not shame him."
"He brought many skins for a new tepee. He brought you elk skins for a new dress."
Jesse explained. "We needed those things because of the fire.All of the people needed new tepees, new clothing."
"He sits with you every evening outside the tepee."
"That is so I can read from the Book."
Prairie Flower grew impatient. "Walks the Fire! I tell you truth.Rides the Wind wishes you to be his wife.You know nothing of Lakota ways.I will tell you!"
Jesse started to protest, but Prairie Flower interrupted. "No! You listen! When a man wishes to show he wants a woman, he dresses in his finest clothing and comes to her outside her tepee.They sit and talk.He gives gifts to her parents. Not every custom is followed, because you are not a young Lakota woman. But I tell you, Rides the Wind cares for you.
After the fire, when Medicine Hawk came-when you were as one dying-you did not see him. I saw him. Rides the Wind did not eat. He did not sleep.He thought only of Walks the Fire.He hunted healing herbs.He hunted the elk for your dress.He took Two Mothers to Yellow Bird's tepee so that his cries would not disturb your rest.He trusted no one but Old One, and himself, and me to care for you. ~ Stephanie Grace Whitson

. . . the only legitimate reason that kingship is not attractive to us is because in this age and this world the only kings available are finite and sinful. Listen to C. S. Lewis describe why he believes in democracy:

A great deal of democratic enthusiasm descends from the ideas of people like Rousseau, who believed in democracy because they thought mankind so wise and good that everyone deserved a share in the government. The danger of defending democracy on those grounds is that they're not true. . . I find that they're not true without looking further than myself. I don't deserve a share in governing a hen-roost, much less a nation. . . . The real reason for democracy is . . . Mankind is so fallen that no man can be trusted with unchecked power over his fellows. Aristotle said that some people were only fit to be slaves. I do not contradict him. But I reject slavery because I see no men fit to be masters.1

If there could be a king who is not limited in his wisdom and power and goodness and love for his subjects, then monarchy would be the best of all governments. If such a ruler could ever rise in the world - with no weakness, no folly, no sin - then no wise and humble person would ever want democracy again.

The question is not whether God broke into the universe as a king. He did. The question is: What kind of king is he? What difference would his kingship make for you? ~ John Piper

Stay back,"I warned. "Stay away from him." They kept coming. "Stay back!" I yelled. They stopped. Except for one. "Rose," came a soft voice. "Drop the sword." My hands shook. I swallowed. "Get away from us." "Rose." The voice spoke again, a voice that my soul would have known anywhere. Hesitantly, I let myself finally become aware of my surroundings, let the details sink in. I let my eyes focus on the features of the man standing there. Dimitri's brown eyes, gentle and firm, looking down on me. "It's okay," he said. "Everything's going to be okay. You can let go of the sword." My hands shook even harder as I fought to hold on to the hilt. "I can't." The words hurt coming out. "I can't leave him alone. I have to protect him." " you have," said Dimitri. The sword fell out of my hands, landing with a clatter on the wooden floor. I followed, collapsing on all fours, anything to cry but unable to. Dimitri's arms wrapped around me as he helped me up. Voices swarmed around us, and one by one, I recognised people I knew and trusted. ~ Richelle Mead

She let her bad mood seethe into the silence of the carriage. Finally, she couldn't bear the vicious cycle of her thoughts, the way they kept returning to Irex and her stupid decision to humiliate him at Bite and Sting. "Well?" she asked Arin.
He sat across from her in the carriage, but didn't lift his eyes to meet hers. He studied his hands. "Well, what?"
"What do you think?"
"About?"
"About the party. About anything. About the bargain we made that you could at least pretend to uphold."
"You want to gossip about the party." He seemed tired.
"I want you to speak to me."
He looked at her then. She found that she had clenched her silk skirts in a fist. She let go. "For example, I know you overheard about Senator Andrax. Do you think he merits torture? Death?"
"He deserves what he gets," he said, and went quiet again.
Kestrel gave up. She sank into her anger.
"That isn't what's bothering you." Arin sounded reluctant, almost incredulous, as if he couldn't believe the words coming from his mouth.
Kestrel waited.
He said, "That man is an ass."
It was clear whom he meant. It was clear that no slave should ever say that of any Valorian. But it was magic to hear the words out loud. Kestrel breathed a laugh. "And I am a fool." She pressed chilly hands to her forehead. "I knew what he's like. I should have never played Bite and Sting with him. Or I should have let him win."
The corner of Arin's mouth twitched. "I enjo ~ Marie Rutkoski

America," he begged.
I turned to Maxon.
"They're fine. The rebels were slow, and everyone here knows what to do in an emergency."
I nodded. We stood there quietly for a minute, and I could tell he was about to move on.
"Maxon," I whispered.
He turned back, a little surprised to be addressed so casually.
"About last night. Let me explain. When they came to prep us, to get us ready to come here, there was a man who told me that I was never to turn you down. No matter what you asked for. Not ever."
He was dumbfounded. "What?"
"He made it sound like you might ask for certain things. And you said yourself that you hadn't been around many women. After eighteen years...and then you sent the cameras away. I just got scared when you got that close to me."
Maxon shook his head, trying to process all this. Humiliation, rage, and disbelief all played across his typically even-tempered face.
"Was everyone told this?" he asked, sounding appalled at the idea.
"I don't know. I can't imagine many girls would need such a warning. They're probably waiting to pounce on you," I noted, nodding my head toward the rest of the room.
He gave a dark chuckle. "But you're not, so you had absolutely no qualms about kneeing me in the groin, right?"
"I hit your thigh!"
"Oh, please. A man doesn't need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh," he replied, his voice full of skepticism.
A laugh escaped me. Thankfully, Maxon join i ~ Kiera Cass

Give me a good game-day party on Sunday afternoon and I'll show up, but knowing the intricate details about what was happening on the field had no interest for me. And I told that to my pal, Johnny. He was raving about a game, and I said that it seemed to me that 'every play was a few seconds of incomprehensible frenetic activity, followed by a minute and a half of standing around.' And he said, "Man, every single play is an entire chess game played out in six seconds." I didn't play chess, but I got the idea. The thought of a battle for territory being played both physically and strategically fascinated me. That was war, right? And if the game was war, then each play was a battle. ~ Gilbert Klein

I wasn't even that lovable to begin with. I was a selfish ass, but somehow something I did made this man love me, deeply and without reservations. He knew things about me that I would die to keep secret. I trusted him more than I trusted anyone in my life. I mattered to him. He was suffering and I wanted it to stop. I wanted to see him happy. I loved him so much. ~ Ilona Andrews

Halt," said Will eventually, "can I ask you a question?"
"I think you just did," Halt replied, with the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. It was
an old formula between the two of them. Will grinned, then sighed and became serious.
"Does life always get harder when you get older?"
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"You're not exactly ancient," Halt said gently. "But things have a way of turning out,
you know. Just give them time."
Will made a frustrated little gesture with his hands. "I know... it's just, I mean... oh, I
don't know what I mean!" he finished.
Halt eyed him carefully. "Pauline said to thank you for rescuing her assistant," he said.
This time, he was sure he saw a reaction. So that was it.
"I was glad to do it," Will replied eventually, his voice neutral. "I think I'll turn in. Good
night, Halt."
"Good night, son," Halt said. He chose the last word intentionally. He watched as the
dim figure strode away toward the fire, seeing the shoulders straighten as he went.
Sometimes, life threw up problems that even the wisest, most trusted mentor couldn't
solve for you. It was part of the pain of growing up.
And having to stand by and watch was part of the pain of being a mentor. ~ John Flanagan

I know, for me, you know, my generation - I never would have known anything about Robert Preston's performance in 'The Music Man' if there hadn't been a film where he played the part. I just heard how great he was on Broadway way before my time. ~ John Lloyd Young

Oh well,' said Jack: and then, 'Did you ever meet Bach?'

'Which Bach?'

'London Bach.'

'Not I.'

'I did. He wrote some pieces for my uncle Fisher, and his young man copied them out fair. But they were lost years and years ago, so last time I was in town I went to see whether I could find the originals: the young man has set up on his own, having inherited his master's music-library. We searched through the papers - such a disorder you would hardly credit, and I had always supposed publishers were as neat as bees - we searched for hours, and no uncle's pieces did we find. But the whole point is this: Bach had a father.'

'Heavens, Jack, what things you tell me. Yet upon recollection I seem to have known other men in much the same case.'

'And this father, this old Bach, you understand me, had written piles and piles of musical scores in the pantry.'

'A whimsical place to compose in, perhaps; but then birds sing in trees, do they not? Why not antediluvian Germans in a pantry?'

'I mean the piles were kept in the pantry. Mice and blackbeetles and cook-maids had played Old Harry with some cantatas and a vast great passion according to St Mark, in High Dutch; but lower down all was well, and I brought away several pieces, 'cello for you, fiddle for me, and some for both together. It is strange stuff, fugues and suites of the last age, crabbed and knotted sometimes and not at all in the modern ta ~ Patrick O'Brian

It's been fifteen years, Imi. You don't know anything about the person I've become. How can you say we're anything to each other?"
I put my hand on his chest, ignoring the feel of his ribs beneath his skin. I pressed my palm over his heart. Thud. Thud. Thud.
"I know who you are in here. I trusted the eighteen-year-old boy who made sure I was fed. Who protected me. Who loved me. And I trust the man he became. Sure, people can change, but I see who you are. ~ A Meredith Walters

I'm in love with you - ridiculous, isn't it?"
It's impossible. Why had she played with fire? Ridiculous, isn't it? If he knew how she felt, how much more impossible for him!
"You'll get over it," she said at last.
The smile widened, as if a deep appreciation for his own frailty spread only the most wicked amusement. "Is that all you have to say when a man bares his bloody soul and admits his absurdity?"
"I think you're in pain," she said, fighting the odd strangling panic. "I don't believe love is meant to be painful."
"No, of course not. Love is meant to be comfortable and safe, like Jeb Hardacre and his wife snoring before the kitchen fire. That is not what I feel about you." He laughed with obvious bravado. "This is a madness. I want to enter your skin. I want to discover your very essence - why you're so enthralling and mysterious to me. I cannot allow any of it. ~ Julia Ross

Haven't I? - he thought. Haven't I thought of it since the first time I saw you? Haven't I thought of nothing else for two years? ...He sat motionless, looking at her. He heard the words he had never allowed himself to form, the words he had felt, known, yet had not faced, had hoped to destroy by never letting them be said within his own mind. Now it was as sudden and shocking as if he were saying it to her ...Since the first time I saw you ...Nothing but your body, that mouth of yours, and the way your eyes would look at me, if ...Through every sentence I ever said to you, through every conference you thought so safe, through the importance of all the issues we discussed ...You trusted me, didn't you? To recognize your greatness? To think of you as you deserved - as if you were a man? ...Don't you suppose I know how much I've betrayed? The only bright encounter of my life - the only person I respected - the best business man I know - my ally - my partner in a desperate battle ...The lowest of all desires - as my answer to the highest I've met ...Do you know what I am? I thought of it, because it should have been unthinkable. For that degrading need, which would never touch you, I have never wanted anyone but you ...I hadn't known what it was like, to want it, until I saw you for the first time. I had thought : Not I, I couldn't be broken by it ...Since then ...For two years ...With not a moments respite ...Do you know what it's like, to want it? Would you wish to hear what I ~ Ayn Rand

Pharrell Williams: '[Tommy Lee] is a great drummer with a lot of style. He keeps his chops up in terms of technique and his style in drumming; his chops are very sharp. Also, 'Pour Some sugar on Me' can be played in the middle of any hip-hop party. I love that.'

Man, that's awesome that Pharrell paid respect. I've always loved his shit, ever since 'When Doves Cry'. Oh, wait, my bad. Pharrell is that producer guy from Atlanta who dates Janet Jackson. The little guy, right? Discovered Kris Kross. Nice. Thanks, bro. ~ Tommy Lee

And what of Joan's presence among so many young, armed men? Perhaps of all the nobles and military men, the Duke of Alencon - that dedicated, courageous and skillful commander - may be trusted most. Although he was a man who had a keen eye for attractive and available women, he too recognized a rare quality of sincere devotion that deflected any tendency to make sexual overtures. 'Sometimes I lay down to sleep with Joan and the soldiers,' Alencon recalled. 'We were all in the straw together, and sometimes I saw Joan prepare for the night. Sometimes too I looked at her breasts, which were beautiful. And yet I never had any carnal desire for her. ~ Donald Spoto

It is argued that because they believed thoroughly in a just, moral God they could put there faith there and let the smaller insecurities take care of themselves. But I think that because they trusted themselves and respected themselves as individuals, because they knew beyond doubt that they were valuable and potential moral units- because of this they could give God their own courage and dignity and then receive it back. Such things have disappeared perhaps because men do not trust themselves anymore, and when that happens there is nothing left except perhaps to find some strong sure man, even though he may be wrong, and to dangle from his coat-tails. ~ John Steinbeck

Be very sure, my son, God is the only adviser to be trusted, and you must do what he tells you, even if it lead you to a stake, to be burned by the slow fire of poverty. - O my Father!" cried the old man, breaking out suddenly in prayer, "my soul is a flickering flame of which thou art the eternal, inextinguishable fire. I am blessed because thou art. Because thou art life, I live. Nothing can hurt me, because nothing can hurt thee. To thy care I leave my son, for thou lovest him as thou hast loved me. Deal with him as thou hast dealt with me. I ask for nothing, care for nothing but thy will. Strength is gone from me, but my life is hid in thee. I am a feeble old man, but I am dying into the eternal day of thy strength. ~ George MacDonald

If I had my life to live all over again, I really think I would have been a fit person. Looking around me, I realise that the men and women who walked and ran and swam and played sport look better and feel better than the rest of us. ~ Maeve Binchy

I've had a lot of sucks in life
A lot
My parents died almost four years ago, right after I turned seven
With every day that goes by I remember them less and less
Like my mom…I remember that she used to sing.
She was always happy,
always dancing.
Other than what I've seen of her in pictures, I don't really remember what she looks like.
Or what she smells like
Or what she sounds like

And my Dad
I remember more things about him, but only because I thought he was the most amazing man in the world.
He was smart. He knew the answer to everything.
And he was strong.
And he played the guitar.
I used to love lying in bed at night, listening to the music coming from the living room.
I miss that the most.
His music.

After they died, I went to live with my grandma and grandpaul.
Don't get me wrong…I love my grandparents.
But I loved my home even more.
It reminded me of them.
Of my mom and dad.

My brother had just started college the year they died.
He knew how much I wanted to be home.
He knew how much it meant to me,
so he made it happen.
I was only seven at the time, so I let him do it.
I let him give up his entire life just so I could be home.
Just so I wouldn't be so sad.
If I could do it all over again, I would have never let him take me.
He deserved a shot, too. A shot at being young.
But sometimes when you ~ Colleen Hoover

After deliberating my options for a split second, I rolled my chair over to watch him tattoo the guy he had hunched over, working on an old pirate ship right smack on the middle of the man's brawny shoulder.

I didn't say a word as I watched him, not wanting to distract him from the man who had been all too excited to request Slim's work an hour before.

But my friend Slim had other thoughts. His green eyes flashed up at me. "What was that about?"

"Huh?" I played stupid.

Slim pulled the gun off the customer's skin, dabbing at the beaded blood before continuing with a shake of his head. "Since when are you guys BFFs?"

I'd learned over the last month how chatty all the guys were, well, specifically Slim and Blake. If I answered his question just remotely weird, I'd bet my first born Slim would jump to some kind of crazy conclusion that I wanted no part of. So I went with the truth. "I heard him fart last night. It kind of broke the ice."

The little whistle he let out told me that was good enough. He snorted and raised an eyebrow before getting back to work. "That'll do it. ~ Mariana Zapata

It is easier to understand if you think of it in terms of music. Sometimes a man enjoys a symphony. Elsetimes he finds a jig more suited to his taste.
The same holds true for lovemaking. One type is suited to the deep cushions of a twilight forest glade. Another comes quite naturally tangled in the sheets of narrow beds upstairs in inns. Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made.
Some might take offense at this way of seeing things, not understanding how a trouper views his music. They might think I degrade women. They might consider me callous, or boorish, or crude.
But those people do not understand love, or music, or me. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

And suddenly he became almost lyric. "For three thousand years the Common Man has been fended off from the full and glorious life he might have had, by Make Believe. For three thousand years in one form or another he has been asking for an unrestricted share in the universal welfare. He has been asking for a fair dividend from civilisation. For all that time, and still it goes on, the advantaged people, the satisfied people, the kings and priests, the owners and traders, the gentlefolk and the leaders he trusted, have been cheating him tacitly or deliberately, out of his proper share and contribution in the common life. Sometimes almost consciously, sometimes subconsciously, cheating themselves about it as well. When he called upon God, they said 'We'll take care of your God for you', and they gave him organised religion. When he calls for Justice, they say 'Everything decently and in order', and give him a nice expensive Law Court beyond his means. When he calls for order and safety too loudly they hit him on the head with a policeman's truncheon. When he sought knowledge, they told him what was good for him. And to protect him from the foreigner, so they said, they got him bombed to hell, trained him to disembowel his fellow common men with bayonets and learn what love of King and Country really means.

"All with the best intentions in the world, mind you.

"Most of these people, I tell you, have acted in perfect good faith. They manage to believe that i ~ H.G. Wells

I know his death could have been avoided with a doctor who was really on top of it. He had so much life in him. It was wrong. I played my way through that first show and did "Old Man" for Ben (Keith) at the end. I looked over to my right and he was out there somewhere, but not next to me anymore. ~ Neil Young

Anna Sergeyevna looked at Bazarov. A bitter smile played over his pale features. "This man loved me!" she thought - and she felt sorry for him and held out her hand to him in sympathy.
But he understood her.
"No!" he said and took a step backwards. "I'm a poor man but I've never yet taken charity. Goodbye and good luck. ~ Ivan Turgenev

the Mormon doctor said, "Sometimes Mr. Smith speaks as a prophet, and sometimes as a mere man. If he gave a wrong opinion respecting the book, he spoke as a mere man." I said, "Whether he spoke as a prophet or as a mere man, he has committed himself, for he has said what is not true. If he spoke as a prophet, therefore, he is a false prophet. If he spoke as a mere man, he cannot be trusted, for he spoke positively and like an oracle respecting that of which he knew nothing. ~ Grant Palmer

Standing at the window overlooking the lawn, Jordan and Alexandra Townsende watched the couple heading toward them. "If you'd asked me to name the last man on earth I would have expected to fall head over heels for a slip of a girl, it would have been Ian Thornton," he told her.
His wife heard that with a sidewise look of extreme amusement. "If I'd been asked, I rather think I would have named you."
"I'm sure you would have," he said, grinning. He saw her smile fade, and he put his arm around her waist, instantly concerned that her pregnancy was causing her discomfort. "Is it the babe, darling?"
She burst out laughing and shook her head, but she sobered again almost instantly. "Do you think," she asked pensively, "he can be trusted not to hurt her? He's done so much damage that I-I just cannot like him, Jordan. He's handsome, I'll grant you that, extraordinarily handsome-"
"Not that handsome," Jordan said, stung. And this time Alexandra dissolved in mirth. Turning, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him soundly. "Actually, he rather reminds me of you," she said, "in his coloring and height and build."
"I hope that hasn't anything to do with why you can't like him," her husband teased.
"Jordan, do stop. I'm worried, really I am. He's-well, he almost frightens me. Even though he seems very civilized on the surface, there's a forcefulness, maybe even a ruthlessness beneath his polished manners. And he stops at nothing when he wants something ~ Judith McNaught

I pulled the chair up to the bedside and studied his face. He was still pale, but he looked like Edward again. That cold bleakness was back in his eyes when no one but me was looking.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"It couldn't just be because you nearly died," I said.
"No," he said.
I smiled, but he didn't smile back.
"Bernardo came to see me, but Olaf never did," he said.
I realized then what he thought I'd waited around to tell him. "You think I killed Olaf, and I've been waiting for you to get healthy enough to give you the same choice you gave me after Harley died," I laughed. "Sweet Jesus, Edward."
"You didn't kill him." I watched him relax against his pillow, visibly relieved.
"No, I didn't kill him."
I took Olaf's letter out of my back pocket and handed it to him. He read it while I watched his face.
Nothing moved but his eyes. He had no reaction. "He's a good man at your back, Anita."
"You're not suggesting I date Olaf?"
He almost laughed. "No, fuck no. Stay as far away from him as you can. If he comes to St. Louis, kill him. Don't wait for him to deserve it. Just do it."
"I agree someone needs to kill Olaf, but why are you so adamant all of a sudden? You trusted him enough to bring him here to your town."
"Olaf has never had a girlfriend. He's had whores and he's had victims. Maybe it's true love, but I think if he shows up and finds that you won't be his little serial killer pin-up girl, that he'll tu ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

The suggestion that the Alf Yeom is the work of jinn is surely a curious one. The Quran speaks of the hidden people in the most candid way, yet more and more the educated faithful will not admit to believing in them, however readily they might accept even the harshest and most obscure points of Islamic law. That God has ordained that a thief must pay for his crime with his hand, that a woman must inherit half of what a man inherits-these things are treated not only as facts, but as obvious facts, whereas the existence of conscious beings we cannot see-and all the fantastic and wondrous things that their existence suggests and makes possible-produces profound discomfort among precisely that cohort of Muslims most lauded for their role in that religious "renaissance" presently expected by western observers: young degree-holding traditionalists. Yet how hollow rings a tradition in which the law, which is subject to interpretation, is held as sacrosanct, yet the word of God is not to be trusted when it comes to His description of what He has created.
I do not know what I believe. ~ G. Willow Wilson

I have a feeling,' he said, 'I have a feeling that we were meant to be together. That we have fought the good fight, side by side, in the past or in the future, I do not know. I am a rational man, but I have learned the value of a good companion, and from the moment I clapped eyes on you, I knew I trusted you as well as I do myself. Yes, I want you with me. ~ Neil Gaiman