Love Ya Not Really Quotes

This was a conversation I had with a so-called-fellow-trekkie the other day:
'So Picard or Kirk?' I asked.
'What?'
'Star Trek ... '
'Oh, Kirk.'
'Why?'
'I like the name better.'
I could have slammed his head against the table. ~ Melanie Kay Taylor

Did ya get in a couple of good swipes?" Emmett asked eagerly.
"No! Of course not!"
"No, not really? You really didnt attack him?"
"Emmett!" I protested.
"Aw, what a waste. And here you're probably the one person who could take him- since he can't get into your head to cheat- and you had a perfect excuse too. I've been dying to see how he'd do without that advantage. ~ Stephenie Meyer

I'm not looking at them, Jamie says softly. "I'm looking at you." When I bring up my eyes, I'm looking at him too. Like, really looking at him. It's hard to breathe when all the colors of his face are so rich and intoxicating-pale blue eyes, a honey tan, and dark chocolate hair. How could someone so beautiful be looking at me the way he is, with half of a smile and affection in his gaze? What does he see? And then I realize. He sees the same thing I see when I look at him. He sees something beautiful. ~ Akemi Dawn Bowman

You're a freak. But I really can't accept these-'
Were you raised in a barn? Don't be ruuuuuude, my boy. They're a gift.'
Blay shook his head. 'Take them, John. You're just going to lose this argument, and it will save us from the theatrics.'
Theatrics?' Qhuinn leaped up and assumed a Roman oratory pose. 'Whither thou knowest thy ass from thy elbow, young scribe?'
Blay blushed. 'Come on-'
Qhuinn threw himself at Blay, grasping onto the guy's shoulders and hanging his full weight off him. 'Hold me. Your insult has left me breathless. I'm agasp.'
Blay grunted and scrambled to keep Qhuinn up off the floor. 'That's agape.'
Agasp sounds better.'
Blay was trying not to smile, trying not to be delighted, but his eyes were sparkling like sapphires and his cheeks were getting red. With a silent laugh, John sat on one of the locker room benches, shook out his pair of white socks, and pulled them on under his new old jeans. 'You sure, Qhuinn? 'Cause I have a feeling they're going to fit and you might change your mind.
Qhuinn abruptly lifted himself off Blay and straightened his clothes with a sharp tug. 'And now you offend my honor.' Facing off at John, he flipped into a fencing stance.
Touché.'
Blay laughed. 'That's en garde, you damn fool.'
Qhuinn shot a look over his shoulder. 'ça va, Brutus?'
Et tu?'
That would be tutu, I believe, and you can keep the cross-dressing to yourself, ya perv.'
Qhuinn flashed a b ~ J.R. Ward

Gentleman," I purr smoothly in greeting.
Ezra and Cort circle me like sharks scenting blood. I know who they are, but not who is who since they're wearing black hoods over their heads. It covers them to the shoulder and has holes for the eyes and mouth. Their clothing is identical Italian designer label suits. Even their shoes are the same. Their eyes glow like steel ball-bearings from the safety of their masks. The mouths are different- one serious, one snarky- both ruby-red and kissable.
While they circle Fate and me several times taking our measure, the other Master stands in a sphere of his own confidence. He's older and I don't mean just in age, but knowledge. Ezra and Cortez feel like babies compared to this man. I bet he's who I really have to impress.
I wait, always meeting their eyes when their path moves them back to my face. I don't follow them with my gaze- I wait.
"Hello," the hood with the serious lips speaks in a smooth deep tone. I know it's not his true voice, but the one Kris calls The Boss. His eyes are kind and assessing.
No one pays Fate any mind as she cowers at my thigh. I hold their undivided attention. Curly-locks is quiet- watchful- a predator sighting its quarry. Snarky mouth is leering at my chest and I smirk. Caught ya, Cortez Abernathy.
"I seem to be at a disadvantage conversing with you while you're hooded. I can't see you, but you can see me." I try to get them to out themselves. It's a longshot.
"And who are ~ Erica Chilson

We are gathered here, friends," he said, "to honor lo Hoon-yera
Mora-toorz tut Zamoo-cratz-ya, children dead, all dead, all murdered
in war. It is customary on days like this to call such lost children men.
I am unable to call them men for this simple reason: that in the same
war in which lo Hoon-yera Mora-toorz tut Zamoo-cratz-ya died, my
own son died.

"My soul insists that I mourn not a man but a child.

"I do not say that children at war do not die like men, if they have to
die. To their everlasting honor and our everlasting shame, they
do die like men, thus making possible the manly jubilation of
patriotic holidays.

"But they are murdered children all the same.

"And I propose to you that if we are to pay our sincere respects to the
hundred lost children of San Lorenzo, that we might best spend the
day despising what killed them; which is to say, the stupidity and
viciousness of all mankind.

"Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes
and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like
pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and
shows of flags and well-oiled guns.

"I do not mean to be ungrateful for the fine, martial show we are about
to see - and a thrilling show it really will be . . ."

He looked each of us in the eye, and then he commented very softly, ~ Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

In episodic television you'll have a good guy who's on every week and that's his show! He's the regular on it, and you're not going to be "gooder" than he is; I mean, he's the guy who's got to solve your problem! So if you're playing a good guy, you have to have a problem, and he's going to solve it for you. And the only really strong dramatic part is the heavy, because the meaner and crueler and rottener you are, the better the good guy looks when he whips ya' at the end because he always is gonna whip ya! So, the best dramatic guest shot is the heavy. ~ Leslie Nielsen

Bryce looked like a California underwear model. Not that I'd thought about him in his underwear.
Much.
He was talking with his friend Nathan. Where Bryce had the whole tan, blond, hazel-eyed thing going on, Nathan was fair with dark hair and dark eyes. They looked like opposite sides of the same coin. A really hot, totally unreachable coin that a collector would keep in a special locked case, which normal girls like myself were not allowed to touch. ~ Chris Cannon

Layla had always just been there. In my life. I wasn't sure who said, 'hi,' first, or maybe who smiled at who first - all I really remembered was staring at her, and her staring back at me, neither of us looking away. Both of us standing frozen, and life falling into the background with a distant hum. As if the world had stopped spinning. Just for us.
I remembered not caring if it had. She'd seemed so familiar, and even as a little kid, I'd known she was special. Like something bigger than me, older than me, had taken over my emotions in a way I didn't understand. She just felt like ... home.
I could have gazed into her eyes forever. Happy to stand in that powerless state for the rest of my life ~ Laney McMann

I like "God Give Me the Strength" very much. It's not really a blues and to call it a ballad is absurd. I don't know, its mid-tempo. Mark (St. John) actually wrote it and I think its very telling of our lives in the 60s. Its just a good song, ya know ... ~ Dick Taylor

But I learned that there's a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly. If you can sit happy with embarrassment, there's not much else that can really get to ya. ~ Christian Bale

Why do you do it, Amber? Why do you go after people like you do? It's not who you are."

"That's the point," Amber said. "I'm not allowed to be who I really am. ~ Cole Gibsen

Yeah, about last night … it's been brought to my attention that I may have been a little out of line with somethings I did and said so - "

"Really? Such as …"

I can't believe he's going to make me say it. He's so frustrating. One minute he's cleaning puke off the drunk girl, showing his kind side, and the next he's trying to humiliate me. Granted, I do a pretty good job of setting myself up for it.

"Such as drinking too much to begin with, then maybe giving the impression that I was … jealous of Claire, or Dr. Brown."

"You mean Dr. Skank?"

Shit!

"Yes - I mean - no, not Dr. Skank. I don't remember calling her that, but if I did then I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." I may have meant it.

"Don't sweat it, Syd. I think you're adorable when you get all jealous."

"I was not jealous!" I yell in a high-pitched voice.

"Uh … your striptease was entitled 'Where Lautner's hands will never be again if he doesn't keep them off Dr. Skank.'"

Kill me now and never let another drop of alcohol pass my lips.

"So how was golf?"

Lautner laughs. "I take it we're done talking about last night?"

"It's pointless because it's your word against mine, unless Swarley goes all Bush Beans Duke on me."

"God, you're something else. So what did you call about?"

"Oh … just to …"

"I'm just flipping ya shit. I know why you called."

H ~ Jewel E. Ann

You might start by thanking me."
For what? For finding something else that was so important to do that it took you all the way from midnight on Samhain ‗til four days later to come for me? I'm not going to thank you for saving me from something you failed to save me from to begin with."

You look fine to me.
In fact, you're better than fine, aren't you? You walked right through my wards, without a word. Didn't even leave a note by the bedside. Really,after all we shared, Ms. Lane. But do I get any thanks for doing the
impossible and bringing you back from being Pri-ya? No. What do I get? You steal my guns. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Yes, Trina. Really, I'll show up to help you. Really, I'll bring a friend. Really, I'm not a total dick. I just play one on TV. ~ Lisa Brown Roberts

I called them up, "Ya, I have ten boxes; can you come pick them up?" "We need to know the weight and the girth." "Okay, good-bye." So I called back. "We need the weight and the girth." "Okay, I don't know what the weight is, and um, I don't know what girth means ... So now what's the procedure?" So this guy talks to me like I'm four years old. "Well do you have a bathroom scale?" "Uh, ya but if I put the box on the scale it's gonna cover up the NUMBERS!" What, do I take it off really quick? Ah, zero: I'm not fast enough. What's he talking about? So then he gives me his Mister Wizard Formula, "How about if you stand on the scale and weigh yourself and get off the scale. Pick up the box, get back on, weigh you and the box together, and subtract your own weight." I'm going, "Slow down. Hold on professor." I know this guys never tried this, because I tried it and you still can't see the NUMBERS! Then I had to hang up in the middle of his girth formula. ~ Brian Regan

Here I was with Barrons dead. Again.
I knew he wasn't really dead, or at least he wouldn't be for long, but my grief was too fresh and my emotions too complicated.
"How long until he - " I broke off, horrified to hear the catch of a sob in my voice.
"Why do you give a fuck?"
"I don't, I mean, I just - shit!" I turned and beat at the wall with my fists. I didn't care that my parents could hear the dull thud or that the wall shuddered beneath my blows. I didn't care what Lor thought of me. I hated Barrons being dead. Hated it. Beyond reason. Beyond my understanding.
I punched until Lor caught my bloody fists and pulled me away.
"How long?" I demanded. "I want to know! Answer me or else!"
He grinned faintly. "What, you gonna feed me bloody runes?"
I scowled. "Do you guys tell each other everything?"
"Not everything. Pri-ya sounded pretty fucking fascinating to me. Never did get all the details. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Are you?" I said. "Gay, I mean?"
-
I hoped he wasn't offended by my asking, but after everything that had happened, I really wanted to know.
"No," he said. "I thought I was for about a w-w-week once. But now I know I'm not."
If there was ever an answer that sounded like the truth, that was it. ~ Brent Hartinger

But the not-very-highbrow truth of the matter was that the reading was how I got my ya-yas out.
For the sake of my bookish reputation I upgraded to Tolstoy and Steinbeck before I understood them, but my dark secret was that really, I preferred the junk. The Dragonriders of Pern, Flowers in the Attic, The Clan of the Cave Bear. This stuff was like my stash of Playboys under the mattress. ~ Julie Powell

There aren't many berry bushes where I'm from."
"And just where would that be?"
His hand paused on a berry like it was a monumental decision whether to pluck it or not. He finally pulled and explained he was from a small town in the southernmost part of Morringhan. When I asked the name, he said it was very small and had no name ...
"A town with no name? Really? How very odd." I waited for him to scramble, and he didn't disappoint me.
"It's only a region. A few scattered dwellings at most. We're farmers there. Mostly farmers. And you? Where are you from?" ...
I took the berry still poised in his fingers and popped it in my mouth. Where was I from? I narrowed my eyes and smiled. "A small town in the northernmost part of Morrighan. Mostly farmers. Only a regions, really. A few scattered dwellings. At most. No name."
He couldn't restrain a chuckle. "Then we come from opposite but similar worlds, don't we? ~ Mary E. Pearson

You are sitting in my chair, my lord." She said the words very civilly, she thought. Although he quirked a brow and lowered his chin as if giving her one of those looks. Like really? In a way that wasn't a question. She was telling a fae king, a hawk fae king, and a guest of the dark fae, that he should be sitting in her seat? But she didn't stop there. "You may sit there if it pleases you." She pointed to Micala's seat since he was not at the meal. Her mother's mouth gaped and for once she didn't have an immediate rebuke ready for Ritasia. The king gave Ritasia such a sinister smile, she was afraid she might have gone a little too far with her first encounter with him. She quickly remembered her manners, curtseyed, though, because she wasn't wearing a gown, she thought she looked a little ridiculous, then looked back up at him. ~ Terry Spear

This is m-me." I indicated the lonely track.

"Really? What's up there?" He peered over my shoulder in genuine curiosity. "Is there a house up there? You're not a sylph or something that really does live wild, are you? ~ J.A. Ironside

Yeah, Jules!" Chelsea said in a voice thick with envy. "Go away, you're making the rest of us look bad." She winked at Jule's date wickedly. "I bet you just want to eat her up, don't ya?"
He stared at Chelsea with bewilderment and glanced back at Jules for help.
"Just ignore her," Jules explained over the noise from the sound system. "She doesn't get out much."
Chelsea tried to look hurt by Jule's words, but she couldn't quite pull it off. "I'm just sayin', Jules, he'd better watch his back tonight, or I might be trying to take you away from him." Chelsea loved to play the potentially bi-curious card, even though everyone knew she liked boys far too much to go to bat for the other team.
"Gross!" cried Claire, who wasn't pretending at all. Claire hated it when the conversation deviated too far off her straight and narrow path. The operative word being straight.
"Don't worry, Claire-bear," Chelsea soothed condescendingly. "I'm not going to hook up with Jules." She wrapped her arm around Claire's waist and then said suggestively in he ear, "I'm much more likely to make a move on you."
"Eww!" Claire shrieked, shoving Chelsea away. "Get away from me!"
"Leave her alone, Chels," Jules interrupted. "Or you're gonna make her start her 'It's Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve' speech. And sorry, Claire, but none of us really want to hear that."
Jay pulled Violet close to him as they listened to the familiar, playful bantering. He slid his arm around ~ Kimberly Derting

Made dinner," Helen told him in a flat voice.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked tentatively.
"Of course not. Why would you ask that when I just cooked you dinner?"
"Because usually when a woman spends hours cooking a complicated meal and then just sits at the table with a pissed off look on her face, that means some guy somewhere did something really stupid," he said, still on edge. ~ Josephine Angelini

Surely there was at least one other girl on campus not sporting a French pedicure (do girls really think we're fooled by the little white lines painted across their toenails?), who had some black in her wardrobe, and actually thought about things. You know, someone who knew the word French could imply more than just a way to kiss. ~ Veronica Wolff

I really need to remember to block my thoughts."
"Oh, come on," he pulled me closer towards him. "Why are you so scared?"
"Because the second that I let this conversation happen, I'll be letting my walls down. No matter what answer you give me, you'll have some sort of power over me, and I don't want that." I pushed past him, plopping down on the bed, not bothering to remove my boots.
I could feel the mattress sink beside me. Ian ran his fingers through my hair. "Come here," he spoke softly. "Please." I pushed myself into a sitting position, and moved closer to him, leaning my head on Ian's shoulder. "I like this, a lot. It feels nice." Ian lifted my chin so that I was forced to look directly at him, and then he leaned in to kiss me. ~ Nicole Sobon

Were ya really tryin' to stab that demon in the ass?"
Riley groaned. "No, I was aiming for its leg, and it moved. I looked like a total dork."
Not to me. ~ Jana Oliver

And against whom is this censorship directed? By way of answer, think back to the big subcultural debates of 2011 – debates about how gritty fantasy isn't really fantasy; how epic fantasy written from the female gaze isn't really fantasy; how women should stop complaining about sexism in comics because clearly, they just hate comics; how trying to incorporate non-Eurocentric settings into fantasy is just political correctness gone wrong and a betrayal of the genre's origins; how anyone who finds the portrayal of women and relationships in YA novels problematic really just wants to hate on the choices of female authors and readers; how aspiring authors and bloggers shouldn't post negative reviews online, because it could hurt their careers; how there's no homophobia in publishing houses, so the lack of gay YA protagonists can only be because the manuscripts that feature them are bad; how there's nothing problematic about lots of pretty dead girls on YA covers; how there's nothing wrong with SF getting called 'dystopia' when it's marketed to teenage girls, because girls don't read SF. Most these issues relate to fear of change in the genre, and to deeper social problems like sexism and racism; but they are also about criticism, and the freedom of readers, bloggers and authors alike to critique SFF and YA novels without a backlash that declares them heretical for doing so.


It's not enough any more to tiptoe around the issues that matter, refusing to name the wor ~ Foz Meadows

See you at breakfast?"
"Yeah.See ya." I try to say this casually,but I'm so thrilled that I skip from her room and promptly slam into a wall.
Whoops.Not a wall.A boy.
"Oof." He staggers backward.
"Sorry! I'm so sorry,I didn't know you were there."
He shakes his head,a little dazed. The first thing I notice is his hair-it's the first thing I notice about everyone. It's dark brown and messy and somehow both long and short at the same time. I think of the Beatles,since I've just seen them in Meredith's room. It's artist hair.Musician hair. I-pretend-I-don't-care-but-I-really-do-hair.
Beautiful hair.
"It's okay,I didn't see you either. Are you all right,then?"
Oh my.He's English.
"Er.Does Mer live here?"
Seriously,I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent.
The boy clears his throat. "Meredith Chevalier? Tall girl? Big,curly hair?" Then he looks at me like I'm crazy or half deaf,like my Nanna Oliphant. Nanna just smiles and shakes her head whenever I ask, "What kind of salad dressing would you like?" or "Where did you put Granddad's false teeth?"
"I'm sorry." He takes the smallest step away from me. "You were going to bed."
"Yes! Meredith lives there.I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh God. What.Is with.The scary enthusiasm? My cheeks catch fire, and it's all so humil ~ Stephanie Perkins

You see the same God that you saying might not even exist
Becomes real to us, but only when we dying in bed
When ya healthy it's like, we don't really care for Him then
Leave me alone God, I'll call you when I need you again
Which is funny, everyone will sleep in the pews
Then blame God for our problems like He sleeping on you
We turn our backs on Him, what do you expect Him to do?
It's hard to answer prayers when nobody's praying to you ~ Nathan Feuerstein (NF)

You're going to eat yourself alive. Like Draakuna who bit off his own tail, and finding that he tasted very good, quickly devoured the rest of himself.

I really hoped that was some sort of dragon legend and not something true. It sounded awful.

No more awful than what you're doing to yourself. Set it aside. Raise your chin high. You are Amel Leafbrought, rider of Raolcan the Purple. Your value does not lie in your leg. ~ Sarah K.L. Wilson

I'm not really afraid of somebody who's very politically vocal. My mother is very strong, and I really believe in freedom of speech. ~ Lindsey Haun

I play into the perception of me, but it's not really me. ~ Kim Kardashian

I'm making a list of when it's acceptable for a pirate to cry. […] So far I've got: one - when holding a seagull covered in oil. Two - when singing a shanty that reminds him of orphans. Three - when confronted with the unremitting loneliness of the human condition. Four - chops. I've just written the word 'chops'. Not really sure where I was going with that one. Any ideas? ~ Gideon Defoe

All that I am is me. So I'm not really a poet or a writer or an actor or an activist; I'm me, and these are things that I do. ~ John Trudell

I love Lady Gaga, Rihanna - all the pop girls like Katy Perry. I think Miley Cyrus is very talented, too. Apart from the visuals, which you may like or not like, but her music is quite good, actually. 'Wrecking Ball' is quite a good song, and she sang it really nicely. ~ Giorgio Moroder

Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray. ~ Rumi

It's a fairy tale. A children's story. Not a funny or silly one, but one with blood and death and horror, because that's fairy tales, too. A kid got swallowed by a whale. A little Pinocchio. A little Caliban. It's all there. And, you know, in a fairy tale, the maidens are never dead - not really. They're just sleeping. ~ Catherynne M. Valente

Does it have a name? All of these fancy magical weapons usually have names."
Bishop glared at her. "Yeah. I like to call it Goldie."
"You're funny for an angel."
"Not really. I'm just inspired at the moment. ~ Michelle Rowen

I think that any artistic decision that is based on whether or not you are going to make money it is not really an artistic decision. It is a business decision. And there are a lot of things that I can do to earn a living and a lot of things that I have already done to earn a living which produce the amount of capital needed to do this project. I came here to spend money on an English orchestra and record my music, so I can take it home and I can listen to it. And... if somebody else likes that kind of stuff, I will make it available on a record so that they can hear it. That is my part of the public service of spending the money to make this event happen. No foundation grant, no government assistance, no corporation, no comittee. Just a crazy guy who spent the money to hire English musicians to do a concert at the Barbican and make an album for Barking Pumpkin Records. ~ Frank Zappa

The artist is a collector. Not a hoarder, mind you, there's a difference: Hoarders collect indiscriminately, artists collect selectively. They only collect things that they really love. ~ Austin Kleon

Marriage has failed because you could not rise to the standard that you were expecting of marriage, of the concept of marriage. You were brutal, you were, you were full of jealousies, you were full of lust; you had never known really what love is. In the name of love, you tried everything which is just the opposite of love: possessiveness, domination, power. ~ Rajneesh

You may say that I had gone to ask Megan to marry me in an absurdly complacent frame of mind and that I deserved what I got - but it was not really like that. It was because I felt so assured, so certain, that Megan belonged to me - that she was my business, that to look after her and make her happy and keep her from harm was the only natural right way of life for me, that I had expected her to feel, too - that she and I belonged to each other.
But I was not giving up. Oh, no! Megan was my woman and I was going to have her. ~ Agatha Christie

The problem with happy endings, I said, is that they're either not really happy, or not really endings, you know? In real life, some things get better and some things get worse. And then eventually you die. ~ John Green

Men are going to go out on the road and they're going to find other women. So if you really want to save yourself a whole lot of heartache, do not fall in love with somebody in a band. Just don't. ~ Stevie Nicks

I'm not really a practising Jew but I keep a kosher kitchen just to spite Hitler. ~ Miriam Margolyes

My stubborn little witch," he said softly. "Don't believe for a clockwork minute that you are unlovable. If I were a mortal, a man not doomed to walk the earth as a haunted specter, I would be the first suitor in line. Please believe that."
She hiccupped. "You… you'd want to court me?"
Jack laughed. "Court you? I'd follow you around like Finney and stare at you all moony-eyed. I'd spend my days fending off your other would-be suitors, my evenings charming Flossie, and my nights stealing kisses at your window. ~ Colleen Houck

Adelia began to get cross. Why was it women who were to blame for everything - everything, from the Fall of Man to these blasted hedges?

"We are not in a labyrinth, my lord," she said clearly.

"Where are we, then?"

"It's a maze."

"Same difference." Puffing at the horse: "Get back, you great cow."

"No, it isn't. A labyrinth has only one path and you merely have to follow it. It's a symbol of life or, rather, of life and death. Labyrinths twist and turn, but they have a beginning and an end, through darkness into light."

Softening, and hoping that he would, too, she added, "Like Ariadne's. Rather beautiful, really."

"I don't want mythology, mistress, beautiful or not, I want to get to that sodding tower. What's a maze when it's at home?"

"It's a trick. A trick to confuse. To amaze."

"And I suppose Mistress Clever-boots knows how to get us out?"

"I do, actually." God's rib, he was sneering at her, sneering. She'd a mind to stay where she was and let him sweat.

"Then in the name of Christ, do it."

"Stop bellowing at me," she yelled at him. "You're bellowing."

She saw his teeth grit in the pretense of a placatory smile; he always had good teeth. Still did. Between them, he said, "The Bishop of Saint Albans presents his compliments to Mistress Adelia and please to escort him out of this hag's hole, for the love of God. How will you do it?"Ariana Franklin

Fear Greek Mythology Labyrinth Life Maze Religion Women