Liking Someone But Not Wanting To Tell Them Quotes

Despite popular theories, I believe people fall in love based not on good looks or fate but on knowledge. Either they are amazed by something a beloved knows that they themselves do not know; or they discover a common rare knowledge; or they can supply knowledge to someone who's lacking. Hasn't everyone found a strange ignorance in someone beguiling? ... Nowadays, trendy librarians, wanting to be important, say, Knowledge is power. I know better. Knowledge is love. ~ Elizabeth McCracken

As we pass the mirror in the bedroom, my attention is drawn to the lovely couple in the reflection. There is a man, tall with broad shoulders. His red hair cut short. He has nothing but a towel on. In his arms is a female, slender but muscular. Her wheat colored hair is pulled back in a neat bun on top of her head. Both of their skin is smooth and flawless, a little paler than most, but still complete perfection. You can tell by the way the man holds her, he cares a lot for her. You can also tell that he is afraid of holding her too tight, not wanting to crush her smaller frame into his body. Looking at this young pair in the mirror, one can only wonder of all the possibilities. What led them to this place? What is in store for them? Will there be a happy ending? ~ Elle A. Rose

I think my sister Daphne's obsession with having children has a lot to do with wanting to erase the pain my mother caused. On one level, Daphne's approach makes more sense. Yet the thought of a redo is not only unappealing, but terrifying. I don't want that kind of power over anyone. I don't want to be something that someone has to overcome. After all, I think everyone would agree that it's far worse to be a fucked-up mother than it is to have one. ~ Emily Giffin

It is growing up different. It is extreme hypersensitivity. It is a bottomless pit of feeling you're failing, but three days later, you feel you can do anything, only to end the week where you began. It is not learning from your mistakes. It is distrusting people because you have been hurt enough. It is moments of knowing your pain is self inflicted, followed by blaming the world. It is wanting to listen, but you just can't anymore because your life has been to full of people that have judged you. It is fighting to be right; so for once in your life someone will respect and hear you for a change. It is a tiring life of endless games with people, in order to seek stimulus. It is a hyper focus, so intense about what bothers you, that you can't pay attention to anything else, for very long. It is a never-ending routine of forgetting things. It is a boredom and lack of contentment that keeps you running into the arms of anyone that has enough patience to stick around. It wears you out. It wears everyone out. It makes you question God's plan. You misinterpret everything, and you allow your creative mind to fill the gaps with the same old chains that bind you. It narrows your vision of who you let into your life. It is speaking and acting without thinking. It is disconnecting from the ones you love because your mind has taken you back to what you can't let go of. It is risk taking, thrill seeking and moodiness that never ends. You hang your hope on "signs" and abandon reason for re ~ Shannon L. Alder

Do you really know the living Jesus - not from books but from being with Him in your heart? Have you heard the loving words He speaks to you? ... The devil may try to use the hurts of life, and sometimes our own mistakes - to make you feel it is impossible that Jesus really loves you, is really cleaving to you. This is a danger for all of us. And so sad, because it is completely the opposite of what Jesus is really wanting, waiting to tell you. Not only that He loves you, but even more - He longs for you. ~ Mother Teresa

Nathaniel and I'd made the decision not to have children. They aren't conducive to a life in space, you know? I mean there's the radiation, and the weightlessness, but more it was that I was gone all the time. I couldn't give up the stars… but I found myself wishing that we hadn't made that decision. Part of it was wishing that I had some connection to the next generation. More of it was wanting someone to share the burden of decision with me.

What happens after Nathaniel dies? What do I have left here? More specifically, how much will I regret not going on the Mission?

And if I'm in space, how much will I regret abandoning my husband to die alone? ~ Mary Robinette Kowal

In an internal panic, I picked up the phone and hurriedly pushed redial. I had to catch Rhonda the Realtor, had to tell her wait, hold off, don't let it go, I'm not sure, hang on, give me another day…or two…or three. But when the numbers finished dialing, I heard no ringing; instead, in a perfect moment of irony, coincidence, and serendipity, I heard Marlboro Man's voice on the other end.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Oh," I replied. "Hello?"
"Hey, you," he replied.
So much for calling Rhonda the Realtor. Three seconds into the phone call, Marlboro Man's voice had already taken hold. His voice. It weakened my knees, destroyed my focus, ruined my resolve. When I heard his voice, I could think of nothing but wanting to see him again, to be in his presence, to drink him in, to melt like butter in his impossibly strong arms. When I heard his voice, Chicago became nothing but a distant memory.
"What're you up to?" he continued. I could hear cattle in the background.
"Oh, just getting a few things done," I said. "Just tying up a few loose ends."
"You're not moving to Chicago today, are you?" he said with a chuckle. He was only halfway joking.
I laughed, rolling over in my bed and fiddling with the eyelet ruffle on my comforter. "Nope, not today," I answered. "What are you doing?"
"Coming to pick you up in a little bit," he said. I loved it when he took charge. It made my heart skip a beat, made me feel flushed and excited and thrilled. After four ~ Ree Drummond

And suddenly, I feel like crying, but not in a bad way. More like in the way you feel when someone gives you a perfect present - something you'd been wanting, but thought you couldn't ask for. It's that feeling of someone knowing you in all the ways you needed to be known. ~ Becky Albertalli

And I loved the way that felt. That private battle, and the way I always caved in the end.
So maybe it was fucked up, but to me that was kind of the point of kink. Not the fucked-up-ness, exactly, but the fact that you got to piss on society's idea of fucked up. And nobody could stop you. Finger-waggers couldn't storm your house and tell you it was wrong for one person to call another a kike or a cunt or a fag. Couldn't stop you from taking a shit on your partner's face. Couldn't say you were weak or crazy for wanting to be dressed like a baby or walked like a dog. With kink, you had the power to be your sickest, most secret self.
Maybe one of my goals could be to make that sickness less secret. ~ J.A. Rock

There's love, and there's chemistry. And then there's both. You can love someone without wanting to sleep with them, and you can lust after someone but think they're a complete asshole. If you have both love and chemistry, you're set. If not, you might as well quit, because it can only end badly. ~ Kristina Meister

No offense, boys are more immature than girls. Knowing that and not wanting any BS in my life - not having time for it - you just have to be smart about it. Obviously, if you're really attracted to someone and you're in love with them, that's fine. But I see all my brothers and how they act and ... to be picky is good. ~ Nicola Peltz

It's quite ironic that by being a romantic asexual, you are eternally screwed. See, it's extremely difficult to meet somebody who wants a romantic relationship without any sex. Wanting a romantic relationship without sex is like offering non-alcoholic beer at a house party. They'll laugh at you, call you a socially-awkward dork, they'll ask you why you don't just go with soft drinks... people generally don't drink booze for the colour or flavour (although I suppose you could count those hipsters who hang out at craft breweries debating over the nutty undertaste of it or whatever hipsters debate about). I've come to the conclusion that I am probably better off alone. Lonely at times maybe, but that's what friends are for. Solitude can be wonderfully liberating, anyway. Not having to share belongings or property, having your own time and privacy... and in any case, if you ever feel the need to be anchored by something or someone, material items and hobbies and states of being, those all last indefinitely. They won't go away until you do. It's a kind of freedom that most people don't have access to unless they become divorced or widowed, or if they choose to remain single on purpose. The gilded wings of solitude that probably look ugly and tarnished to everyone standing below them as they gaze up to the sky. The sun shining down on them, wind through silken feathers, that's always brilliant. There are bouts of rain and darkness, but you get that on the ground just as much as you ~ Rebecca McNutt

What does Éloa mean?"

He narrowed his gaze, answered her literally. "It's the name of an angel."

Penelope tilted her head, thinking. "I've never heard of him."

"You wouldn't have."

"Was he a fallen angel?"

"She was, yes." He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the story, but unable to stop himself. "Lucifer tricked her into falling from heaven."

"Tricked her how?"

He met her gaze. "She fell in love with him."

Penelope's eyes widened. "Did he love her?"

Like an addict loves his addiction. "The only way he knew how."

She shook her head. "How could he trick her?"

"He never told her his name. ~ Sarah MacLean

Know this...GOD IS BIGGER, than anything you're going through, trust him...KEEP YOUR TRUST IN HIM" -Gary Linville

"I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what love is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you."

"Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw,
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw;
Gives exercise to faith and love,
Brings every blessing from above."

Nahum 1:7, "The Lord is good, a strong refuge when trouble comes. He is close to those who trust in him."

"be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace."
♥ Ephesians 4:2-3

"the truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. you just got to find the ones worth suffering for." ― Bob Marley

"The thing about the shadows is that they're not all darkness. You need to have light to have shadows"
- A. Meredith Walters "Light in the Shadows" (Find You in the Dark #2) ~ Muliple

I'm sorry," I say and the words start spilling out. "I'm sorry. I should have just talked to you and then you wouldn't have felt guilty and then you wouldn't have gotten into this accident. It's my fault. I'm so sorry."
I'm still holding his hand and he's looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes.
"You're sorry?" he asks in confusion. "You're sorry? For what? It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."
"I was being a baby," I tell him. "I didn't know what to say to you and I was trying to be strong but I was so upset that you were kissing Elena."
"Elena kissed me," he answers. "I just want to clarify that. And she kissed me because I had just told her that I can't see her anymore. Because I want to be with someone else."
"Someone else?" My voice is small in the large hospital suite and all of a sudden my heart is numb again. This time, it is numb because it is waiting hopefully for words that I am desperately wanting to hear.
"Yes," he nods. "Someone else."
My heart is still waiting.
There is a pause.
Then another pause.
He doesn't say anything so I do.
"Is it anyone I know?"
I look down and he looks up and our eyes lock.
"I should hope so since it is you," he says.
My heart stops.
And then starts again.
And then I bend down and kiss Dante Gili-bear-ti as softly and gently as I can.
"You want to be with me?" I ask this as I pull away and look at him. He smells like iodine an ~ Courtney Cole

Why didn't you tell me?"
"I know you won't believe it, but I thought it would be best for you. You were doing so well until I came back. I thought you could go back to how it was. You still can."
"Don't say that,Becks.We're going to figure something out."
"I know.Even so,I understand that it would've been easier for you if I'd never come back.Maybe you and Jules..."
His grip on my arm tightened,and when he spoke,his voice wavered. "Becks. I crashed when you left.Jules held together the pieces,and I will love her forever for that.But if I was with her, it wouldn't be right." He grimaced. "She told me so herself, right before I left with Will. She knew." Jack pushed my hair out of my eyes and off my forehead.
"Um,she knew what?" I could barely hear my own voice.
"It's always been you,Becks. Nothing will change that,no matter how much time has passed." He glanced down. "No matter if you feel the same way or not. You know what,right?"
I shook my head slowly,wanting desperately to believe him, but not sure if I could.
"How can you not see that? Everyone sees it." He slid his hand down my arm and grabbed my fingers, holding them in his lip,tracing them. Staring at them. "Remember freshman year? How Bozeman asked you to the Spring Fling?"
Bozeman. He was two years older than me. Played offensive lineman. His first name was Zachary, but nobody had called him that since the third grade. I'd been surprised he even knew my name, let alone ask ~ Brodi Ashton

Sebastian: Do you remember when you were eleven and had mono? Our parents wanted us to stay away from each other. Dad was afraid I'd catch it and I'd miss Little League practice. Anyway, you were upset because you were lonely and being all kinds of whiny about it...

Lena: I wasn't being whiny. I was stuck in my bedroom by myself for days, and if wasn't sleeping, I was bored.

Sebastian: You were sick and you didn't want to be alone. You wanted me.

Lena: I didn't want you, per se. I just wanted someone...

Sebastian: You've always wanted me. Not just anyone, but me. So, you not wanting me here has nothing to do with you being tired. I know why you don't Or at least I think I understand part of it, and we'll talk about the you-wanting-me part later. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Of course I'd been long enough on land to know earthly love, and it had always ended in a battle, in each wanting to be the stronger, the superior in the relation. It is commonly called 'the battle of the sexes,' but I don't know if that is the right term. In truth it's a question of a power struggle, of a battle not to lose oneself, to maintain one's sovereignty - one's property rights. Only the very strong can live with no fear of losing their autonomy. Still, this is the precondition for loving: not to want power - not to want to own someone.
There can be talk of love only when one gives up one's self-assertion, when one lays down arms and capitulates fully. When one no longer defends oneself. Love is the absolute yielding, the total surrender – unconditionally. It knows no reservations, no defense. Love creates no need to be the strongest; it knows no lust for power, no personality struggle. Love is pure devotion, absolute self-surrender. Only one who is strong enough not to fear losing his personality can love. To love, one must be able to forsake oneself, to make the other free. And it is this which we're not strong enough to do. ~ Jens Bjørneboe

Humans are a story telling species. Throughout history we have told stories to each other and ourselves as one of the ways to understand the world around us. Every culture has its creation myth for how the universe came to be, but the stories do not stop at the big picture view; other stories discuss every aspect of the world around us. We humans are chatterboxes and we just can't resist telling a story about just about everything.

However compelling and entertaining these stories may be, they fall short of being explanations because in the end all they are is stories. For every story you can tell a different variation, or a different ending, without giving reason to choose between them. If you are skeptical or try to test the veracity of these stories you'll typically find most such stories wanting. One approach to this is forbid skeptical inquiry, branding it as heresy. This meme is so compelling that it was independently developed by cultures around the globes; it is the origin of religion - a set of stories about the world that must be accepted on faith, and never questioned. ~ Nathan Myhrvold

Every day we see allurements of one kind or another that tell us what we have is not enough. Someone or something is forever telling us we need to be more handsome or more wealthy, more applauded or more admired than we see ourselves as being. We are told we haven't collected enough possessions or gone to enough fun places. We are bombarded with the message that on the world's scale of things we have been weighed in the balance and found wanting. Some days it is if we have been locked in a cubicle of a great and spacious building where the only thing on the TV is a never-ending soap opera entitled Vain Imaginations. But God does not work this way. ~ Jeffrey R. Holland

Tell me one thing. Has Rider Sinclair done something to hurt you in any way? If he has,I'll shoot that man!"
Willow was taken aback by Miriam's vehemence. "No,no," she hastily assured. "He might have hurt my feelings some but that's all."
"I noticed he wasn't being very gentlemanly, but I overlooked it because I thought perhaps he was still showing his temper over the Scofield incident."
"You're probably right. But, Miriam, this ain't, er,isn't about Sinclair, not entirely anyway. It's about me." Willow's smile was sad. "Being a man would be easier and a hell of a lot more fun but I ain't built right. So, I want you to teach me how to look and act like a fine and proper lady. You will, won't you?"
Merry chuckles bubbled and rolled out of Miriam. "Oh, Willow!" More chuckles. "I know I shouldn't laugh right now, but I can't help myself. You say the most awful things!"
Willow didn't know if she should be insulted or not, but since it was Miriam laughing at her, she gave her the benefit of the doubt. "I know my wanting to be a real lady is funny, but not that funny."
"No,no." Miriam laughed, gasping for breath. "No that, the part about you're not being built right. ~ Charlotte McPherren

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

Is this about my birth parents?"
The frown lines on her mother's forehead deepened. "Well, yes..."
"Did Freya know them?" Anna asked. She'd always wondered. Freya had been such a big part of her life since the beginning. Maybe Freya had known something Anna didn't. Silence hung over the room as they stared at one another. "It's okay," Anna finally said. "If you know who they are and don't want to tell me, I'll understand. It doesn't matter anyway." She reached for their hands. "You've been the best parents anyone could ever hope for."
Papa and Ma reached in for a hug at the same time. They were a family of huggers and laughters. Anna clung to them, not wanting to let go. ~ Jen Calonita

The change will do you good," she said simply, when he had finished; "and you must be sure to go and see Ellen," she added, looking him straight in the eyes with her cloudless smile, and speaking in the tone she might have employed in urging him not to neglect some irksome family duty.

It was the only word that passed between them on the subject; but in the code in which they had both been trained it meant: "Of course you understand that I know all that people have been saying about Ellen, and heartily sympathize with my family in their effort to get her to return to her husband. I also know that, for some reason you have not chosen to tell me, you have advised her against this course, which all the older men of the family, as well as our grandmother, agree in approving; and that it is owing to your encouragement that Ellen defies us all, and exposes herself to the kind of criticism of which Mr. Sillerton Jackson probably gave you this evening, the hint that has made you so irritable… Hints have indeed not been wanting; but since you appear unwilling to take them from others, I offer you this one myself, in the only form in which well-bred people of our kind can communicate unpleasant things to each other: by letting you understand that I know you mean to see Ellen when you are in Washington, and are perhaps going there expressly for that purpose; and that, since you are sure to see her, I wish you to do so with my full and explicit approval - and to take the oppor ~ Edith Wharton

Loving someone isn't about wanting them to evolve into someone better. My mom taught me that.
Real love is saying: here, take my still-beating heart and hold it in your hands and please, please, please, promise not to squeeze too tight or drop it on the pavement. Love is being naked and afraid, but refusing to flinch. ~ Julie Johnson

Di's bouquet trembled in her hands. "Greg slept with my bridesmaid."

"Susie?" Min said, not surprised but sick just the same. "I knew she - "

"Worse," Di said."

"How could it be worse?" Min said and then the other shoe dropped. "Karen?"

Di nodded.

"Oh," Min said, trying to think of what to say as her rage rose. "Oh, honey." She put her arm around Di. "Tell me this was before he proposed to you and not - "

"Last night," Di whispered, and Min took a deep breath, corset or not.

"Son of a fucking bitch."

"Thank you," Di said, and sniffed.

"That whore, I swear I'll rip out every hair on her goddamn head." Min held Di tighter. "I'll nail her fucking chignon to the church door, the miserable bitch. And Dad will take Greg apart. He's been wanting to for months. ~ Jennifer Crusie

I just wanted one person who would look at me and not want to see someone else."
"Who looks at you like that?" I lift my head up and lower my hands so I can see her face, and I can't imagine anyone looking at this girl and wanting to see anything but her.
"Everyone who loves me."
"Who is it they want to see?
"A dead girl. ~ Katja Millay

Her kiss is hungry, as if long deprived. As if they didn't already spend the morning doing just exactly this, making up for the lost time they were apart. Triton's trident, I could do this all day. Then he catches himself. No, I couldn't. Not without wanting more. Which is why we need to stop.
Instead, he entwines his hands in her hair, and she teases his lips with her tongue, trying to get him to fully open his mouth to her. He gladly complies. Her fingers sneak their way under his shirt, up his stomach, sending a trail of fire to his chest.
He is about to lose his shirt altogether. Until Antonis's voice booms from the doorway. "Extract yourself from Prince Galen, Emma," he says. "You two are not mated. This behavior is inappropriate for any Syrena, let alone a Royal."
Emma's eyes go round as sand dollars. He can tell she's not sure what to think about her grandfather telling her what to do. Or maybe she's caught off guard that he called her a Royal. Either way, like most people, Emma decides to obey. Galen does, too. They stand up side by side, not daring to be close enough to touch. They behold King Antonis in a polka-dot bathrobe, and though he's the one who looks silly, they are the ones who look shamed.
Galen feels like a fingerling again. "I apologize, Highness," he says. It seems like all he does lately is apologize to the Poseidon king. "It was my fault."
Antonis gives him a reproving look. "I like you, young prince. But you well know the law ~ Anna Banks

If I'm convinced that I'm not good enough, I will have a difficult time accepting someone into my life who thinks I am. It's the Groucho Marx syndrome of not wanting to like anyone who would want me in their club. The only way that I can accept someone's finding me wonderful, is if I find myself wonderful. But to the ego, self-acceptance is death. ~ Marianne Williamson

Do you have any idea how much you mean to me Layla? Any at all? Because I
sometimes think, if you did, you wouldn't keep torturing me like this. I can't keep watching you with him. The way you gaze into his eyes, the way he
kisses you and when you tell him you love him, I hate you. I hate you for loving him. I hate you for choosing him. I hate you for wanting him so badly.
But mostly, I hate myself for not being him! I can't hide it anymore. I've tried so fucking hard that I swear I'm going crazy sometimes. It's eating at me.
I can't sleep, can't think; I can't even function because I'm thinking about you so much. But I get it, I do, it's him you want and from now on I'm hands
off. But I have to let you know how I feel before I go nuts. ~ Marie Coulson

Not long after Chris died, a national magazine published a story comparing his life with that of the man accused of killing him. There are some parallels; they both grew up in Texas. But the article skimped on the differences. Look at the decisions they made, look at what they did with their lives, look at the responsibilities they took on--or shirked.
Chris saw a great deal of combat. He never made excuses for his behavior. He didn't always do the right thing, but he tried to do the right thing by others. Chris got the good grace, as Abel did, not by his birthright, but by his effort.
As I sat listening to the prosecutor, I thought his parallel extended through Chris's life--not solely to the man who shot him, but to the haters, to the people who ended up in legal disputes with him or his estate, for whatever reason. They all wanted something he had.
Not money, but authenticity. Real achievements. Soul.
Grace.
And of course that's the one thing you can't take from someone else, even if you steal his life.
Chris became famous without wanting to. Opportunities that others had to fight and claw for seemed to fall in his lap. But most of all, people just liked him for being who he was, with seemingly no effort on his part at all.
Of course, there was effort, and there was great struggle. He had to persevere--The Navy didn't want him at all when he first tried to enlist. But people don't see that part. They don't see the long days at BUD/S, or ~ Taya Kyle

We all wear masks
to veil the truth.
Truth is nakedness.
Truth is fear.
Truth is the gardener
making you sit on
his lap
asking you to
light his cigarette.
Truth is father -
with a limp cigarette on his lips
- telling you to never
use his matches
to light it for him.
Truth is father
yelling:
"It is not
nice for little girls
to do so".
Truth is a curious girl
wanting to
ignite a match
like a woman.
Truth is the maid watching
from the kitchen,
knowing.
But knowing isn't truth.
Truth is the maid calling:
Come. Come.
Truth is the gardener understanding.
But understanding isn't truth.
Truth is the maid saying,
"Stay away!"
Truth is a girl thinking
she is in control.
That nothing happened,
nothing bad.
But the truest truth
is a girl knowing,
a girl understanding that
on that day
someone stole
a little piece of her
truth. ~ Kamand Kojouri

Obama!" the President said, shaking my hand. "Come here and meet Laura. Laura, you remember Obama. We saw him on TV during election night. Beautiful family. And that wife of yours - that's one impressive lady."

"We both got better than we deserve, Mr. President," I said, shaking the First Lady's hand and hoping that I'd wiped any crumbs off my face. The President turned to an aide nearby, who squirted a big dollop of hand sanitizer in the President's hand.

"Want some?" the President asked. "Good stuff. Keeps you from getting colds."
Not wanting to seem unhygienic, I took a squirt.

"Come over here for a second," he said, leading me off to one side of the room. "You know," he said quietly, "I hope you don't mind me giving you a piece of advice."

"Not at all, Mr. President."

"He nodded. "You've got a bright future," he said. "Very bright. But I've been in this town awhile and, let me tell you, it can be tough. When you get a lot of attention like you've been getting, people start gunnin' for ya. And it won't necessarily just be coming from my side, you understand. From yours, too. Everybody'll be waiting for you to slip, know what I mean? So watch yourself."

"Thanks for the advice, Mr. President."

"All right. I gotta get going. You know, me and you got something in common."

"What's that?"

"We both had to debate Alan Keyes. That guy's a piece of work, isn't he?"

I la ~ Barack Obama

They think it's what we need to hear, but it's the opposite. Inviting glamorous people to school, asking them to parade their glamorous lives onstage, getting them to inspire us with their message that anything is possible if only we believe. Dream. Reach for the stars. Well, no thanks. That's not for me. I'm not going to get there, and neither are most people that I know, and that's fine by me. It is. It really is. When did it stop being fine for everyone else? The normal stuff. Sunday dinners and, I don't know , taking a walk in the park and listening to music and working in an ordinary job for an ordinary wage that will allow you to maybe go on holiday once a year, and really look forward to it too because you're are not a greedy bastard wanting more, more, more all the time. That's who should be doing a talk at school. Seriously. Show me someone happy with a life like that, because it's enough. It should be enough. All that other stuff is meaningless. ~ Annabel Pitcher

A pale, slightly luminescent form materialized in front of us. Mason. He looked the same as ever-or did he? The usual sadness was there, but I could see something else, something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. Panic? Frustration? I could have almost sworn it was fear, but honestly, what would a ghost have to be afraid of.
"What's wrong?" asked Dimitri.
"Do you see him?" I whispered.
Dimitri followed my gaze. "See who?"
"Mason."
Mason's troubled expression grew darker. I might not have been able to adequately identify it, but I knew it wasn't anything good. The nauseous feeling within me intensified, but somehow, I knew it had nothing to do with him.
"Rose...we should go back..." said Dimitri carefully. He still wasn't on board with me seeing ghosts.
But I didn't move. Mason's face was saying something else to me-or trying to. There was something here, something important that I needed to know. But he couldn't communicate it.
"What?" I asked. "What is it?"
A look of frustration crossed his face. He pointed off behind me, the dropped his hand.
"Tell me," I said, my frustration mirroring his. Dimitri was looking back and forth between me and Mason, though mason was probably only and empty space to him.
I was too fixated on Mason to worry what Dimitri might think. There was something here. Something big. Mason opened his mouth, wanting to speak as in previous times but still unable to get the words out. Ex ~ Richelle Mead

In November, Bettina [Moreira] presented him with a framed quotation by the biologist George Wald, who had won the Nobel fifty years ago. It read: What one really needs is not Nobel laureates but love. How do you think one gets to be a Nobel laureate? Wanting love, that's how. Wanting it so bad that one works all the time and ends up a Nobel laureate. It's a consolation prize. What matters is love. 'What the hell do you want me to do with this?' said Chandra, who had come to a similar conclusion himself but would sooner be damned than tell Ms. Moreira this. ~ Rajeev Balasubramanyam

Otter did this! I didn't do anything wrong. He tricked me! He tricked me and left! Just like I knew he would! I think I hear him call my name, but my ears are pounding too hard to be sure. It sounds like the ocean. Im about to start running when I feel strong arms wrap around me from behind, clasping on my chest. I turn around to swing at him but can only get partway before I get caught in a vise grip.
"Let go of me!" I snarl, wanting to kick and bite and punch and hurt.
"Bear," he says, his voice grumbling in my ear. "Bear."
"Im not like you!" I say, still struggling to get away. "Im not like that!"
"I know, Bear. I know." His breath is hot against my cold skin. "Dont you think I know that? I shouldnt have let it happen. Im sorry. Im so sorry."
I stop fighting him, feeling all the anger fall out of me like someone flipped a switch. "Why are you here?" I moan. "Why did you come back?"
He grabs me by the chin, forcing me to stare into his eyes. "It has nothing to do with what happened between us. As far as I am concerned, that was a mistake. We never should have kissed. ~ T.J. Klune

I can't quite shake this feeling that we live in a world gone wrong, that there are all these feelings you're not supposed to have because there's no reason to anymore. But still they're there, stuck somewhere, a flaw that evolution hasn't managed to eliminate yet. I want so badly to feel bad about getting pregnant. But I can't, don't dare to. Just like I didn't dare tell Jack that I was falling in love with him, wanting to be a modern woman who's supposed to be able to handle the casual nature of these kinds of relationships. I'm never supposed to say, to Jack or anyone else, 'What makes you think I'm so rich that you can steal my heart and it won't mean a thing?' Sometimes I think that I was forced to withdraw into depression, because it was the only rightful protest I could throw in the face of a world that said it was all right for people to come and go as they please, that there were simply no real obligations left. Deceit and treachery in both romantic and political relationships is nothing new, but at one time, it was bad, callous, and cold to hurt somebody. Now it's just the way things go, part of the growth process. Really nothing is surprising. After a while, meaning and implication detach themselves from everything. If one can be a father and assume no obligations, it follows that one can be a boyfriend and do nothing at all. Pretty soon you can add friend, acquaintance, co-worker, and just about anyone else to the long list of people who seem to be part of your li ~ Elizabeth Wurtzel

In the first place, you aren't qualified or experienced enough to work at this level.In the second place, I don't want you here."
His contempt brought Lauren's simmering fury to a rolling boil, and she couldn't stop herself from goading him.
"Perfect!" she said brightly, backing away a step. "Now would you just be kind enough to call Mr. Weatherby and tell him that? I've already given him my reasons for not wanting to work for you, but he insisted that I come up here."
Nick jabbed at the intercom. "Get me Weatherby," he snapped, then his gaze sliced back to Lauren. "Just what 'reasons' did you give him?"
"I told him," Lauren lied wrathfully, "that you are an arrogant conceited lecher, and that I'd rather be dead than work for you."
"You told Weatherby that?" he asked in a low, threatening voice.
Lauren kept her smile fixed on her face. "Yep."
"What did Weatherby say?"
Unable to endure the icy blast of his gaze, Lauren pretended to study her manicure. "Oh,he said that a lot of women you've slept with probably feel that way about you,but that I should put company loyalty above my understandable revulsion for you."
"Lauren," Nick said silkily, "you're fired. ~ Judith McNaught

Conversion, EVERYTHING, including yourself, gets turned around. Transformed.'
'What happens if you turn FROM one, but can't fully turn TO the other?' I cried. 'Tell me, Michael, is there a word for being eternally, pathetically, insurmountably 'stuck'?' I paused, searching for the right words, the words that would convey exactly how my soul ached but could not quite leap. They were evading me...Is there a word for wanting to forget this God and Jesus and the whole mess? For wanting to forget it ALL?' I pinned him with my eyes.
'Despair,' he reminded me, draining his glass. ~ Carolyn Weber

Somebody betrayed us... The Germans learned the location of our partisan troop. They surrounded the forest from all sides. We were hiding in the deep woods, hiding in the swamps where the torturers did not go [...] A radio operator was with us. She gave birth recently. The baby was hungry... Wanting the breast... But the mother is starving, she has no milk, and the baby is crying. The Germans are nearby... With dogs... If the dogs hear the baby, we're all dead. All of us - thirty people... Do you understand? We make a decision... Nobody dares to tell her the commader's order, but the mother guesses it herself. She puts the bundle with the baby into the water and holds it there for a long time... The baby does not cry... Not a sound... And we cannot lift our eyes. We cannot look at the mother or at each other ~ Svetlana Alexievich

The bond between husband and wife is a strong one. Suppose the man had hunted her out and brought her back. The memory of her acts would still be there, and inevitably, sooner or later, it would be cause for rancor. When there are crises, incidents, a woman should try to overlook them, for better or for worse, and make the bond into something durable. The wounds will remain, with the woman and with the man, when there are crises such as I have described. It is very foolish for a woman to let a little dalliance upset her so much that she shows her resentment openly. He has his adventures--but if he has fond memories of their early days together, his and hers, she may be sure that she matters. A commotion means the end of everything. She should be quiet and generous, and when something comes up that quite properly arouses her resentment she should make it known by delicate hints. The man will feel guilty and with tactful guidance he will mend his ways. Too much lenience can make a woman seem charmingly docile and trusting, but it can also make her seem somewhat wanting in substance. We have had instances enough of boats abandoned to the winds and waves.
It may be difficult when someone you are especially fond of, someone beautiful and charming, has been guilty of an indiscretion, but magnanimity produces wonders. They may not always work, but generosity and reasonableness and patience do on the whole seem best. ~ Murasaki Shikibu

Sometimes it's just lying in bed and staring at the ceiling listening to the same song over and over again as it slowly loses its meaning. Sometimes it's how people go mad because they couldn't tame the darkness that was growing within them over time. Some days it's a girl waking up without her soul. Some nights it's a boy falling asleep with his spirit crushed. Sometimes it's someone wanting to lose themselves to a person, but instead, they push that person away.

Solitude only becomes a prison when you do not love yourself. And even if you do love yourself it's still a very dangerous thing, and the very benefits of it are the stars shining in its purest darkness.

Solitude isn't always pretty but also are the truths that we find within ourselves when we learn to find solace in it. ~ Juansen Dizon

You're a worse punishment than even he deserves, lady," she bit off as she turned away from the phone. "I wouldn't wish you on my worst enemy!"
The phone rang again and she picked it up, ready to give Audrey a fierce piece of her mind. But it was a journalist wanting to know if the story in the tabloids was true, about Tate and Cecily being lovers when she was still in school.
"It most certainly is not," she said curtly. "But I'll tell you what is. Tate Winthrop is marrying Washington socialite Miss Audrey Gannon at Christmas. You can print that, with my blessing!" And she hung up again. ~ Diana Palmer

My Sabine,
I just left your room. You were so beautiful lying there sound asleep that I couldn't bear to wake you. But I'm not feeling so great and there are things I promised to tell you that I fear I may not get the chance to.
I know you had once hoped that I would be the one to pass on your letters to Maddie once you were gone. But, as it turns out, I think it is going to be me who ends up leaving the letters behind.
Be mad at me. You should. But after that try to understand that I did what I thought was best. I wanted to tell you. So many times I snuck down to your room planning on telling you everything, but I just couldn't.
Partly it was for you – yes. You needed time and I didn't want to influence your choices, even once I realised what was happening between us, even more so then. Falling in love with you only made those choices more complicated and I feared that you might choose to stay for me and then, after I was gone, change your mind. I couldn't let that happen.
Partly the choice was selfish, and for that I am sorry. For so long now people have been trying to fix me, but where they failed, you succeeded. You've given me more life in the last couple of weeks that I've had in years. Being with you, loving you, making memories with you, fearing for you, wanting to show you the beauty of life instead of the terror – it was bittersweet, but more importantly Sabine, it was real.
I know this is the part when I beg you to go on, live your lif ~ Jessica Shirvington

I have met people who truly do not believe in God, and they feel no anger when they see suffering. They are indifferent to it. But you and I are angry. Anger is not indifference. I blamed God because He took my family. But I couldn't get revenge from God, so I turned my rage against other people. I wanted revenge. Someone must pay."

"You're wrong." Helen said, wanting desperately to believe that he was. "I told you, I no longer believe in God."

"Then why are you so angry with Him?" His eyes were so sorrowful that Helen had to look away. She was unable to reply.

"You blame me and my country for your losses Miss Kimball. And I blame you and your country. But you and I are people, not countries. Did you kill my wife? My child? Would you put a gun to their heads and shoot them, or take away all of their food and watch them die? No, of course not. Neither would I kill someone you loved if I met him face to face. Wars come from bitterness and hatred. They are started by nations without face. But wars end when the hatred ends in the hearts of people like you and me. That is why I ask you to please forgive me. ~ Lynn Austin

It's easy to want to be an author. You see it in your mind with sun streaming through windows and a Siamese cat purring on an antique rug and a little pellet stove and somehow the bills are paid and there's wit and self-sufficiency and divine inspiration seeping through walls and pores. And then, in your mind, you skip ahead to a book launch party and more Siamese cats.

When you graduate from wanting to working, you say, "I am going to flesh out this idea and write the whole thing down, and rewrite it, and rewrite it again, and rewrite it unendingly, and I'll have no real assurance of when it'll be good enough, but at some point I'll pitch it to someone who will decide if I'm delusional or not." The optimism and the ego-bruising, unsexy work needed to follow through feels unending. ~ Kate Inglis