Need Some Real Quotes

I love your cooking, honey, but sometimes I need some real food. ~ Alan Jackson

I trust you to give me exactly what I need. You know my heart and my body better than anyone else. That's what makes you my husband and not some wild beast. ~ Meredith Wild

Real love feels less like a throbbing, pulsing animal begging for its freedom and beating against the inside of my chest and more like, "Hey, that place you like had fish tacos today and I got you some while I was out," as it sets a bag spotted with grease on the dining room table. ~ Samantha Irby

With so much knowledge written down and disseminated and so many ardent workers and eager patrons conspiring to produce the new, it was inevitable that technique and style should gradually turn from successful trial and error to foolproof recipe. The close study of antique remains, especially in architecture, turned these sources of inspiration into models to copy. The result was frigidity - or at best cool elegance. It is a cultural generality that going back to the past is most fruitful at the beginning, when the Idea and not the technique is the point of interest. As knowledge grows more exact, originality grows less; perfection increases as inspiration decreases. In painting, this downward curve of artistic intensity is called by the sug- gestive name of Mannerism. It is applicable at more than one moment in the history of the arts. The Mannerist is not to be despised, even though his high competence is secondhand, learned from others instead of worked out for himself. His art need not lack individual character, and to some connoisseurs it gives the pleasure of virtuosity, the exercise of power on demand, but for the critic it poses an enigma: why should the pleasure be greater when the power is in the making rather than on tap? There may be no answer, but a useful corollary is that perfection is not a necessary characteristic of the greatest art. ~ Jacques Barzun

1883. Third Month 16

Some moments set my heart on fire, and that's when language seems the smallest. Yet precisely these bursts of feeling make me long to write. I sit now in a high-walled courtyard, amid the green smells and slanted light of early spring, with that familiar burning in my heart. I'll need to destroy these pages before returning home, but no matter; for the first time since Mother's death, words come to me. ~ Janet Benton

Gandhi has more recently recognized the need for continuance of British, American and Chinese efforts in India and has suggested that these troops might remain by agreement with some new Indian Government. ~ Stafford Cripps

It wasn't as if they had a choice. They were soldiers whose choices had ended when they had signed contracts and taken their oaths. Whether they had joined for reasons of patriotism, of romantic notions, to escape a broken home of some sort, or out of economic need, their job now was to follow the orders of other soldiers who were following orders, too. Somewhere, far from Iraq, was where the orders began, but by the time they reached Rustamiyah, the only choice left for a solider was to choose which lucky charm to tuck behind his body armor, or which foot to line up in front of the other, as he went out to follow the order of the day. ~ David Finkel

Everyday you need to take some actions - actions to improve your life and actions to improve someone else's life. ~ Amit Ray

On those occasions when he had killed in the dark, he later needed to see his victims' faces because, in some unlit corner of his heart, he half expected to find his own face looking up at him, ice-white and dead-eyed. "Deep down," the dream-victim had said, "You know that you're already dead yourself, burnt out inside. You realize that you have far more in common with your victims after you've killed them than before. ~ Dean Koontz

Okay, listen to me one more time. I find you very beautiful, and I'm not going to be some guy who leaves you hanging like that idiot did yesterday evening. I am willing to show you what a real woman can do to please you in every way."

Jana stood they're just looking at Angel dumbstruck, unsure what to say. She just thought of what to say next, but nothing came to words. Jana sat on the couch without a word. Angel sat next to her.

"I am sorry for being so honest with you. But since I met you yesterday evening, I just can't and won't let my feelings go without knowing." She sighed. She just wished Jana could feel the same about her as she did about Jana.

Jana looked at Angel. Her eyes were full of questions.

"Why me? Out of all the women in this world, you choose me. I'm nothing compared to anyone else and my best friend Destiny has the life I want and crave for."

Angel smiled and hugged Jana. She didn't try to leave her embrace. Angel counted that as a small win.

"That is where you are blind on. Women that are friends or couples can have all that as well. Please, just give me a chance to show you and will go from there."

Jana took a deep breath looking down at her hands. She was still deciding if she should accept Angel's suggestion.

"Are you sure about this? I mean we just met, and I am not sure what to think of all this? I wouldn't even know what to tell anyone that knows me?"

~ Amber M. Kestner

It is suspected, by some, that spiritual beings are extremely jealous of the natural world because they are nothing more than a figment of the imagination. This might explain their compulsive and obsessive behavior in trying to convince others they are real, and that the natural world is an illusion. The end of the world scenarios they conjure up reveal their Napoleon whit and superiority complex. ~ Christopher Zzenn Loren

I think it's my job or the artist's job, to try and find some solution or some reason to accept things. But given the grimmest reality, I feel the grimmest facts are the real facts, the true facts: that you're born, you die, you suffer, it's to no purpose, and you're gone forever, ever, ever, and that's it. ~ Woody Allen

Do you love me, Westley? Is that it?'
He couldn't believe it. 'Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches. If your love were - '
'I don't understand the first one yet,' Buttercup interrupted. She was starting to get very excited now. 'Let me get this straight. Are you saying my love is the size of a grain of sand and yours is this other thing? Images just confuse me so - is this universal business of yours bigger than my sand? Help me, Westley. I have the feeling we're on the verge of something just terribly important.'
'I have stayed these years in my hovel because of you. I have taught myself languages because of you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids….Is any of this getting through to you, Buttercup, or do you want me to go on for a while?'
'Never stop.'
'There has not been - '
'If you're teasing me, Westley, I'm just going to kill you.'
'How can you even dream I might be teasing?'
'Well, you haven't once said you loved me.'
'That's all you need? Easy. I love you. Okay? Want i ~ William Goldman

Yeah. When was the last time you took a risk?"
"I'd say two days ago when I got on a plane to Brazil at the recommendation of a crazy person I met in a bar."
"Alright. I'll give you that one. That did take some balls. But when was the last time you had a real adrenaline rush? The kind that pumps through your veins so powerfully that it makes you think you haven't really been alive before then?"
I knew the answer to that. When you got in that cab yesterday. Only I didn't have the balls to say that either. ~ Penelope Ward

Certainly not! I didn't build a machine to solve ridiculous crossword puzzles! That's hack work, not Great Art! Just give it a topic, any topic, as difficult as you like..."
Klapaucius thought, and thought some more. Finally he nodded and said:
"Very well. Let's have a love poem, lyrical, pastoral, and expressed in the language of pure mathematics. Tensor algebra mainly, with a little topology and higher calculus, if need be. But with feeling, you understand, and in the cybernetic spirit."
"Love and tensor algebra?" Have you taken leave of your senses?" Trurl began, but stopped, for his electronic bard was already declaiming:

Come, let us hasten to a higher plane,
Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn,
Their indices bedecked from one to n,
Commingled in an endless Markov chain!

Come, every frustum longs to be a cone,
And every vector dreams of matrices.
Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze:
It whispers of a more ergodic zone.

In Reimann, Hilbert or in Banach space
Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways.
Our asymptotes no longer out of phase,
We shall encounter, counting, face to face.

I'll grant thee random access to my heart,
Thou'lt tell me all the constants of thy love;
And so we two shall all love's lemmas prove,
And in bound partition never part.

For what did Cauchy know, or Christoffel,
Or Fourier, or any Boole or Euler, ~ Stanisław Lem

I'd carry you," he added, "but I'd have to get you declawed first."
"Don't count on it," I replied.
Sage did an exaggerated stretch. "In the meantime, I think we should all get some sleep." He sprawled out across the dirt floor. "Good night."
He shut his eyes and was perfectly still. There was no chance he was asleep already, but Ben spoke his mind anyway. He pulled me aside just the slightest bit and sneered down at Sage.
"I don't like any of this, Clea."
"Really? Because when he started talking about the Elixir of Life, I thought the two of you were ready to become blood brothers."
"I believe in the Elixir," Ben said. "Enough that I want to believe Sage's story. I just don't now if we can. And we still can't explain the pictures. I don't trust him."
"I don't care, Ben. Dad trusted him. And Sages plan is my best shot at finding him alive."
"I guess. Just..." Ben took a moment to put together his next words. "Be careful around him, okay? I feel like..."
I waited, but he wasn't going to finish. "Feel like what?"
"Nothing. I'm here for you. You know that, right?"
I could see him struggling. It was like he was trying to tell me something monumental, but the words that came out weren't doing it justice.
He sprawled out on the cave floor as far away from Sage as he could, and patted his chest. "Need a pillow? It's not really in my job description, but I'm happy to offer." He pinched a corner of his shirt between two finge ~ Hilary Duff

Real motherhood is different. It's better and it's messier and it's more complicated. It will break your heart and make you laugh harder than you ever imagined. You find yourself alternating between feeling like your friends talked you into some sort of pyramid scheme so you could share in their misery and thinking this is the most fulfilling thing you've ever done in your life. ~ Melanie Shankle

I have so many great things going on in my life that I don't need to pay attention to some writer. ~ Paris Hilton

When there are lots of possibilities, most of the work goes into just locating the true answer - starting to pay attention to it. You don't need proof, or the sort of official evidence that scientists or courts demand, but you need some sort of hint, and that hint has to discriminate that particular possibility from the millions of others. Otherwise you can't just pluck the right answer out of thin air. You can't even pluck a possibility worth thinking about out of thin air. ~ Eliezer Yudkowsky

It would be nice if we didn't have to drill for oil in the gulf. We have this shallow continental shelf on the west coast of Florida, and it would be a real disaster if we had a major oil spill there. It would be wonderful if we could find some other source of energy. ~ Eugenie Clark

To want to be an actor is enough - you don't need to tell us about it. The interesting person who comes with some life experience is always the person who is going to be chosen by me. ~ Kenny Ortega

The message is every genre, every person, is the real message. Some people just say it in different ways. What I learned today is that not only do I respect you and always have, but I'm also so inspired. I'm so motivated. I really appreciate it. ~ DJ Khaled

Some years ago I had a conversation with a man who thought that writing and editing fantasy books was a rather frivolous job for a grown woman like me. He wasn't trying to be contentious, but he himself was a probation officer, working with troubled kids from the Indian reservation where he'd been raised. Day in, day out, he dealt in a concrete way with very concrete problems, well aware that his words and deeds could change young lives for good or ill.
I argued that certain stories are also capable of changing lives, addressing some of the same problems and issues he confronted in his daily work: problems of poverty, violence, and alienation, issues of culture, race, gender, and class...
"Stories aren't real," he told me shortly. "They don't feed a kid left home in an empty house. Or keep an abusive relative at bay. Or prevent an unloved child from finding 'family' in the nearest gang."
Sometimes they do, I tried to argue. The right stories, read at the right time, can be as important as shelter or food. They can help us to escape calamity, and heal us in its aftermath. He frowned, dismissing this foolishness, but his wife was more conciliatory. "Write down the names of some books," she said. "Maybe we'll read them."
I wrote some titles on a scrap of paper, and the top three were by Charles de lint – for these are precisely the kind of tales that Charles tells better than anyone. The vital, necessary stories. The ones that can change and heal young live ~ Terri Windling

Although I have suggested that American culture tends to favor the side of independence over the side of inclusion (and I would extend that to Western culture in general), it is not a generalization that seems to apply uniformly to men and women in our culture. Indeed, although I have no idea why it may be, it seems to me that men tend to have more difficulty acknowledging their need for inclusion, tend to me more oriented toward differentiation, and that women tend to have more difficulty acknowledging their need for distinctness, tend to be more oriented toward inclusion. Whether this is a function of social experience throughout the lifespan, the effects of parenting anatomical (even genital) density, or some combination, I do not know. Whatever the source of this distinction between men and women, I believe it is also the case that this very distinction is to be found within any one person as well. Whatever the source of this distinction between men and women, I believe it is also the case that this very distinction is to be found within any one person as well. In this respect constructive-developmental theory revives the Jungian notion that there is a man in every woman and a woman in every man; saying so is both a consequence of considering that all of life is animated by a fundamental evolutionary ambivalence, and that 'maleness'/'femaleness' is but one of its expressions. Similarly, I believe that while Western and Eastern cultures reflect one side or the other of thi ~ Robert Kegan

How dare we, all these stupid evangelists walking around telling men after they've made some little prayer that they need to write their name in the back of their Bible, and put the date and if the devil ever comes to them, they need to show him that. That is Roman superstition, it is not the gospel of Jesus Christ. You see, we've turned the gospel into a flu-shot. ~ Paul Washer

By some need to appear intellectual, non-thinkers will instantly and without question subscribe to the opinions of those they feel other people think are educated. ~ Criss Jami

We have to realize our black heritage in order to give us strength to move on and progress. But as far as returning to the old African culture, it's unnecessary and it's not advantageous in many respects. We believe that culture itself will not liberate us. We're going to need some stronger stuff. ~ Huey Newton

Oh,Mercer," he murmured against my temple once we'd come up for air, "we are so screwed."
I pressed my face against his neck, breathing him in. "I know."
"So what do we do?"
Reluctantly, I tried to move away. It was hard to think when he was so close to me. "If we were good people, we'd never see each other again."
His arms locked around my waist, pulling me back. "Okay,well, that's not happening. Plan B?"
I smiled up at him, feeling ridiculously giddy for someone on the verge of ruining her life. "I don't have one.You?"
He shook his head. "Nothing.But...look. I've spent basically my whole life pretending to be someone I'm not, faking some feelings, hiding others." Reaching down, he clasped my hand and lifted it so that our joined hands were trapped between our chests. "This thing with us is the only real thing I've had in a long time.You're the only real thing." He raised our hands and kissed my knuckles. "And I'm done pretending I don't want you."
I had read a lot about swooning in the romance novels Mom had tried to hide from me,but I'd never felt in danger of doing it until now. Which was why a snarky comment was definitely called for.
"Wow,Cross.I think you missed your calling.Screw demon hunting: you should clearly be writing Hallmark cards."
His face broke into that crooked grin that was maybe my favorite sight in the whole world. "Shut up," he muttered before lowering his head and kissing me again.
"Why is it," I said ~ Rachel Hawkins

Because my patient just sat herself up
and I'm not talking about her raising her torso off the damn pillows. I wasn't there when she did it and I need to see how it happened."
Red Sox seemed to stop breathing. "What ... I'm sorry. What the fuck are you saying."
"Do I need to reenact it in charades or some shit?"
"I'll pass on that
I so don't need you on your knees in front of me with only a towel on."
"Which makes two of us."
"Wait, are you serious?"
"Yeah. I'm really not interested in blowing you, either. ~ J.R. Ward

You sound off," he said. "Why are you whispering? I thought you and Ana were having dinner together." I bit my lip.
"It's kind of a funny story, but you have to promise not to yell."
"Why would a funny story make me yell?" he asked warily. "Well," I drawled. "I was on my way to meet up with Ana, and there was this truck parked in an alley that didn't look right. So, I left my bike on the street and went to check it out." "Jordan." I didn't need to see him to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose, something he'd been doing a lot in the last few months.
"Don't worry. They didn't see me."
His tone sharpened. "Who didn't see you?"
"The Gulaks. They were too busy loading the girls into the back." I paused as the truck slowed going around a curve. "I slipped on without them having a clue I was there."
He swore. "Do not tell me you climbed into a truck with a bunch of Gulak slavers." I scoffed softly. "Of course not. Give me some credit. I'm on the roof of the truck." He growled something, and I heard another male laughing. It sounded like Mario, one of the warriors we were working with on this job, along with his mate, Ana. We'd been in Panama for two weeks, at the request of the government, to locate and shut down a human trafficking ring. But this one was a lot more sophisticated than any other Gulak operation we'd encountered, and they'd managed to evade us completely. Until now.
"This is not a funny story," he said in an exasperated ~ Karen Lynch

One last characteristic of the memoir that is important to recognize is one which also applies to essays, and which Georg Lukacs described as "the process of judging." This may seem problematic to some, since...we connect it with 'judgmental,' often used nowadays as a derogatory word. But the kind of judgment necessary to the good personal essay, or to the memoir, is not that nasty tendency to oversimplify and dismiss other people out of hand but rather the willingness to form and express complex opinions, both positive and negative.

If the charm of memoir is that we, the readers, see the author struggling to understand her past, then we must also see the author trying out opinions she may later shoot down, only to try out others as she takes a position about the meaning of her story. The memoirist need not necessarily know what she thinks about her subject but she must be trying to find out; she may never arrive at a definitive verdict, but she must be willing to share her intellectual and emotional quest for answers. Without this attempt to make a judgment, the voice lacks interest, the stories, becalmed in the doldrums of neutrality, become neither fiction nor memoir, and the reader loses respect for the writer who claims the privilege of being the hero in her own story without meeting her responsibility to pursue meaning. Self revelation without analysis or understanding becomes merely an embarrassment to both reader and writer. ~ Judith Barrington

By seeing what triggers procrastination, and then making a plan to flip those triggers, doing your taxes becomes attractive. If I found myself putting off doing my taxes, I might sit down and make a plan to changes those triggers. For example, if the trigger is:
• Boring: I go to my favorite café for an afternoon on Saturday to do my taxes over a fancy drink while doing some people watching.
• Frustrating: I bring a book to the same café, and set a timer on my phone to limit myself to working on my taxes for thirty minutes - and only work for longer if I'm on a roll and feel like going on.
• Difficult: I research the tax process to see what steps I need to follow, and what paperwork I need to gather. And I visit the café during my Biological Prime Time, when I'll naturally have more energy.
• Unstructured or Ambiguous: I make a detailed plan from my research that has the very next steps I need to take to do them.
• Lacking in Personal Meaning: If I expect to get a refund, think about how much money I will get back, and make a list of the meaningful things I'll spend that money on.
• Lacking in Intrinsic Rewards: For every fifteen minutes I spend on my taxes, I set aside $2.50 to treat myself or reward myself in some meaningful way for reaching milestones. ~ Chris Bailey

It is dangerous when you start calling people from one part of the world terrorists or fanatic, and you reduce them to some abstract notion. If evil has a geographical place, and if the evil has a name, that is the beginning of fascism. Real life is not this way. You have fanatics and narrow-minded people everywhere. ~ Marjane Satrapi