Nothing Stop Me Quotes

People were having sex before I was born. My parents had sex before I was born, nothing to do with me. I'm not trying to stop sex. I'm trying to stop people from dying from sex. ~ Mechai Viravaidya

Holy mother of God, that feels good.
"I'm not having sex with you," I say primly and try to inch away from him.
"I didn't invite you to. Stop squirming."
He nuzzles my neck, making my eyes cross, and continues to play my stomach like a freaking guitar. Then he pushes more firmly against me, making me giggle. "Whatever it is that's pressed to my ass disagrees with you."
"That's nothing. Just a flashlight."
I burst out laughing. "Do you carry a flashlight in your pocket often?"
"Mostly just in the morning," he replies seriously and kisses my neck, right under my ear ~ Kristen Proby

Hold still baby girl. Hold still. I need you to do something for me," he said quietly.

I opened my mouth and said, "What?" but no words came out. I tried again.

Nothing.

He smiled.

He continued to lick my hip bone. He kissed it and looked me in the eyes.

"You listening?" he asked.

As I squeezing the countertop with each hand, my arms beside my body, my hands beside my butt, I nodded.

"Fuck my tongue. I want you to fuck my mouth, do you hear me?"

I opened my mouth and squeaked. My eyes closed. I felt his tongue move from my hip to my clit. His palm slid slowly across my hip, and rested in the depression between my hip and my pussy. His thumb was positioned on the skin above my clit, and pushed upward, exposing my clit totally. As his tongue met my clit, I squirmed.

I felt his lip on top of my clit, and his tongue on the bottom. He started a motion with his tongue and lip, with my clit in between. About three seconds into it, I was done…almost to climax. I felt myself begin to cum. No, not yet, not yet, please…make this last.

He lifted his head, and looked me in the eye. He must have sensed I was going to cum.

"No, don't stop. Please, Erik, don't fucking stop." I begged.

"Fuck my mouth. Grind your pussy on my face baby girl, do you hear me?"

"Yes sir. Do it. Do that again. Exactly what you were doing, exactly," I said, hoping he co ~ Scott Hildreth

Is there something going on with you?" I asked, giving him ample opportunity to share his troubles.

His eyes lifted to mine and he twisted his lips to the side. He stared at me, carefully masking his thoughts and saying nothing for a time. Then he shook his head.

"Nope. Nothing is going on with me." Beau's tone was deliberately devoid of telling emotion.

I scrutinized him further.

"Stop it, Cletus."

"Stop what?"

"Stop trying to peer into my mind." He cracked a half smile, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I would never do that, Beau. Your mind is a depraved and dissolute place. I would fear for my eternal soul should I manage a glimpse inside."

He grinned at my teasing and I was pleased to see it. "That's right." He turned to the door and called over his shoulder as he left. "And don't you forget it. ~ Penny Reid

I sent a messenger to the inn where they're staying," he told us. "They'll look after you while Castor and I are with the Pythia. Have a good time in Delphi." He acted as though he'd just solved every problem in the world.
I didn't see it that way.
As we crossed the temple grounds together, I asked Polydeuces, "Is there a good reason you're treating me like a silly sheep?" I indicated the two soldiers behind me. "Or are you embarrassing me like this just because you can?"
Castor spoke up before his twin could answer. "Stop making a fuss over nothing, Helen. These men will protect you, not steer you."
"That's right, Lady Helen," the taller of the two said. "We're your shadows, not your sheepdogs. Go anywhere you want."
I gave him a sweet, innocent smile. Then I barked at him. ~ Esther M. Friesner

You're so cute when you're jealous," I say. She looks at me, her resolve melting with my words. I take her face in my hands and gently press my lips to hers. She sighs a quiet, defeated sigh into my mouth and relents, parting her lips for me. I run my hands down her arms and to her waist, then pull her out of the chair and on top of me as I lean back onto the bed.
I place one hand on the small of her back, pressing her into me, and my other hand I run through her hair, grabbing the back of her head. I kiss her hard as I roll her onto her back, proving to her that she has absolutely nothing to be jealous of. As soon as I'm on top of her, she places her hands on my cheeks and forces my face apart from hers.
"So your lips touched someone else's lips? After our first kiss?"
I fall back onto the bed beside her. "Lake, stop it. Stop thinking about it," I say.
"I can't, Will." She turns to me and makes that damn pouty face she knows I can't refuse. "I need to know. In my head all I can picture is you taking some girl out on this perfect date and making her grilled cheese sandwiches and playing "would you rather" with her and sharing seriously intense moments with her, then kissing the hell out of her at the end of the night."
Her description of our first date causes me to laugh. I lean over and press my lips to her ear and whisper, "Is that what I did to you? I kissed the hell out of you?"
She pulls her neck away and shoots me a glare, letting me know s ~ Colleen Hoover

I missed you," I said.
"Missed you, too. Welcome home."
We moved in to hug each other, then I sprang back seconds before getting smushed against his still-sopping-wet sweater.
"Ben!"
"Ooh, poor form on my part," he said, and peeled off his sodden sweater. He wore a thin white T-shirt underneath. The coffee spill had left the shirt a bit damp, and it clung slightly to his chest in a way that made me stare and caught my voice in my throat.
That was ridiculous, of course. Ben and I had the kind of friendship where we talked about things like that. I could tease him about his suddenly well-toned body; he'd make some kind of self-effacing joke and parry by bringing up something absurd he'd seen about me in a magazine...
But I didn't say a word. And I didn't stop looking. Clearly I was in a sleep-deprived haze.
"You could still try the coffee," he offered. "There's plenty in the sweater. I can just wring it right into the mug."
I shook off my reverie. "Tempting offer, but no thanks. You really need to give up on the coffee thing. I'm never converting from tea."
"We'll see," he said. He set the wet sweater on the hand towel, then turned to me with his arms out. "Better?"
"Much," I said, and closed the distance between us so he could fold me into his arms.
"Hel-lo! Please tell me I'm interrupting something!" It was Rayna, and at the sound of her voice, Ben and I sheepishly pulled apart. Again, ridiculous. Hugging was nothing unus ~ Hilary Duff

Stopping just short of her mouth, he rasped, "Are you still engaged to Blakeborough?"
Her gorgeous eyes narrowed. "My engagement didn't stop you last night."
"It would now."
A coy smile broke over her lips, and she tightened her grip on his neck. "Then I suppose it's a good thing I am not."
With a growl of triumph, he kissed her once more. She was here. She was his. Nothing else mattered.
Still kissing her, he jerked both sets of curtains closed. Then he tugged her onto his lap and began to tear at the fastenings of her pelisse-dress. He wanted to touch her, taste her…be inside her. He could think of naught else.
"I take it that you mean to seduce me," she murmured between kisses.
"Yes." Seduce her and marry her. And then seduce her again, as often as he could.
"Well then, carry on."
So he did. He unfastened her clothes just enough to bare her breasts, then seized one in his mouth. God, she was perfect. His perfect jewel.
She buried her hands in his hair to pull her into him, sighing and moaning as if she would die if he didn't make love to her. Which was exactly how he felt.
Working his hand up beneath her skirts and into the slit in her drawers, he found her so wet and hot that he nearly came right there. He slipped a finger inside her silky sweetness, and she gasped, then began to tug at his trouser buttons.
"You're all I want, Jane." As he stroked her, he used his other hand to brush hers away so he could unfaste ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Whatever you want," he said. "Will you please come here now?"
I slipped a piece of protective tissue over my drawing and flipped the book closed. A piece of blue scratch paper slid out, the line I'd copied from Edward;s poetry book. "Hey. Translate for me, Monsieur Bainbridge."
I set the sketchbook on my stool and joined him on the chaise. He tugged me onto his lap and read over his head. "'Qu'ieu sui avinen, leu lo sai.' 'That I am handsome, I know."
"Verry funny."
"Very true." He grinned. "The translation. That's what it says. Old-fashionedly."
I thought of Edward's notation on the page, the reminder to read the poem to Diana in bed, and rolled my eyes. You're so vain.I bet you think this song is about you..."Boy and their egos."
Alex cupped my face in his hands. "Que tu est belle, tu le sais."
"Oh,I am not-"
"Shh," he shushed me, and leaned in.
The first bell came way too soon. I reluctantly loosened my grip on his shirt and ran my hands over my hair. He prompty thrust both hands in and messed it up again. "Stop," I scolded, but without much force.
"I have physics," he told me. "We're studying weak interaction."
I sandwiched his open hand between mine. "You know absolutely nothing about that."
"Don't be so quick to accept the obvious," he mock-scolded me. "Weak interaction can actually change the flavor of quarks."
The flavor of quirks, I thought, and vaguely remembered something about being charmed. I'd sat ~ Melissa Jensen

I was at ease in everything, to be sure, but at the same time satisfied with nothing. Each joy made me desire another. I went from festivity to festivity. On occasion I danced for nights on end, ever madder about people and life. At times, late on those nights when the dancing, the slight intoxication, my wild enthusiasm, everyone's violent unrestraint would fill me with a tired and overwhelmed rapture, it would seem to me - at the breaking point of fatigue and for a second's flash - that at last I understood the secret; I would rush forth anew. I ran on like that, always heaped with favors, never satiated, without knowing where to stop, until the day - until the evening rather when the music stopped and the lights went out. ~ Albert Camus

I poke myself in the eye. "Would you stop touching yourself?" I drop the mascara tube on the table and pick up a tissue to wipe the smear of black I just made at the inside corner of my eyelid because I can't keep my fricking eyes off Dean.

"What's wrong, baby? You jealous? I was thinking of how hot you look." He rolls to his side. "You make a little circle with your mouth when you put your eye makeup on. It's basically begging me to stick my dick in there."

Nope, there's nothing warm and squishy about my relationship with this guy. I shoot him a disbelieving glance. "We just got done having morning sex," I remind him. I apply two quick swipes of the mascara before Dean's hand can do more damage under the bed sheets.

"That was thirty minutes ago. Since then, you've showered, waved your tits and bare ass in front of me getting dressed, and then made little blowjob circles with your mouth. So yeah, I'm horny again. Sue me. ~ Elle Kennedy

I was marching. I kept saying it as I scanned the crowd for Jill, pumping myself up, because some people had told me racism was a thing of the past, they's told me not to get involved. But that was nuts. They were nuts. And more to the point - they'd all been white people. Well, guess what? I'm white too - and that's exactly why I was marching. I had to. Because racism was alive and real as shit. It was everywhere and all mixed up in everything, and the only people who said it wasn't, and the only people who said "Don't talk about it" were white. Well, stop lying. That's what I wanted to tell those people. Stop lying. Stop denying. That's why I was marching. Nothing was going to change unless we did something about it. We! White people! We had to stand up and say something about it too, because otherwise it was just like what one of those posters in the crowd outside school said:
OUR SILENCE IS ANOTHER KIND OF VIOLENCE ~ Jason Reynolds

Tell me you don't feel it then, the fluttering in your chest; the hair on the nape of your neck rising as your nerve endings stir, your fingers tingling with the need to reach out and caress something." His eyes raked down her form. "Tell me your body doesn't ache at the mere thought of me between your thighs, on top of you, inside of you, giving you what my brother never could - real feeling, the kind of feeling that makes you scream so loud your throat feels like it's bleeding. Agonizing pleasure, the kind that torments your every thought, driving you to the brink of insanity only to pull you right back from the edge, over and over and over again. Unbearable pleasure, the kind that makes you beg for it to stop, but the moment it's over, you feel like nothing but an empty, useless shell - a shell that needs more. ~ J.M. Darhower

Stop saying things like that! You can't ... tell me all of that and then walk off like it's no big deal! You're killing me ... Offer me something or offer me nothing,
but stop trying to play both sides. ~ Tiffany Snow

Daddy once told me there's a rage passed down to every black man from his ancestors, born the moment they couldn't stop the slave masters from hurting their families. Daddy also said there's nothing more dangerous than when that rage is activated. ~ Angie Thomas

I'm thinking we ought to rethink the whole self-esteem thing. It should almost be a dirty word. I mean, look at Kayla. She has the intelligence of a tree stump, and its sense of humour. She's less about real attractiveness than she is about advertising ... She's the kind of girl who shows how hot she is because she has nothing else to offer, who doesn't realise that hotness has an expiration date. Yet, I'm still a little nervous talking to her like she's holding a lottery ticket she just might or might not decide to hand over to me. It is nuts, if you stop to think about it. I give give her this power, and it's kind of like voting some idiot into office. But hey, we're good at that, too. ~ Deb Caletti

I spent another sleepless night in my apartment and in the early hours of the morning I snuck once more into my little kitchen, to prepare a huge torta di ricotta. I needed a cheesecake: it was the only thing that could give me the peace of mind I craved.
Had I been too hasty in offering to give l'Inglese lessons? I asked myself, as I ground green almonds with my pestle. The power of my wrist quickly turned the almonds to powder. If only I could grind my worries away as easily.
I beat the ricotta, egg yolks, honey, sugar, lemon juice, and rind into the almonds. I beat and beat and beat the mixture until a sweat formed on my brow and my body began to glow with warmth. Even then I did not stop beating. I welcomed the exhaustion that began to creep up on me: I could feel the healing power of my cooking.
Really I knew nothing about l'Inglese. Nothing at all. Except that everything about him spelled danger to an inexperienced woman like me. I was afraid of him, yet could not bear the thought of not seeing him again. I was always thinking of him, imagining our next meeting: amusing myself with every possible scenario.
I whisked the egg whites into peaks in a matter of seconds. I reasoned that I had been right to speak out to him when I did. I knew how I would have hated myself if I had let the moment slip by. I knew how wretched and foolish I would have felt at my impotence, and yet this turbulence inside me was almost as bad. Acrobatic butterflies fluttered in ~ Lily Prior

If I could, I would stop the passage of time. But hour follows on hour, minute on minute, each second robbing me of a morsel of myself for the nothing of tomorrow. I shall never experience this moment again. ~ Guy De Maupassant

Oh, Dolly is about to get what she's been asking for all these years. The floodgates are open, and nothing will stop me from having her now. Not even her. ~ Alexa Riley

Don't cry."
"How can I not?" I asked him. "You just said you loved me."
"Well, why else did you think all of this was happening?" He set the book aside to wrap his arms around me. "The Furies wouldn't be trying to kill you if I didn't love you."
"I didn't know," I said. Tears were trickling down my cheeks, but I did nothing to try to stop them. His shirt was absorving most of them. "You never said anything about it. Every time I saw you, you just acted so ... wild."
"How was I supposed to act?" he asked. "You kept doing things like throwing tea in my face. ~ Meg Cabot

My heart tells me to stop right here, to offer quiet benediction and call it the end. But the truth won't allow it. Because there is no end, happy or otherwise. Nothing is fixed, nothing solved. the facts, such as they are, finally spin off into the void of things missing, the inconclusiveness of us. Who are we? Where do we go? The ambiguity may be dissatisfying, even irritating, but this is a love story. There is no tidiness. Blame it on the human heart. One way or another, it seems, we all perform vanishing tricks, effacing history, locking up our lives and slipping day by day into the graying shadows. Our whereabouts are uncertain. All secrets lead to the dark, and beyond teh dark there is only maybe. ~ Tim O'Brien

WHAT DOES AN OLD MAN GAIN BY EXERCISING

what will he gain by talking on the phone
what will he gain by going after fame, tell me
what does he gain by looking in the mirror

Nothing
each time he just sinks deeper in the mud

It's already three or four in the morning
why doesn't he try to go to sleep
but no--he won't stop doing exercise
won't stop with his famous long-distance calls
won't stop with Bach
with Beethoven
with Tchaikovsky
won't stop with the long looks in the mirror
won't stop with the ridiculous obsession about continuing to breathe

pitiful--it would be better if he turned out the light

Ridiculous old man his mother says to him
you and your father are exactly alike
he didn't want to die either
may God grant you the strength to drive a car
may God grant you the strength to talk on the phone
may God grant you the strength to breathe
may God grant you the strength to bury your mother

You fell asleep, you ridiculous old man!
but the poor wretch does not intend to sleep
Let's not confuse crying with sleeping ~ Nicanor Parra

And neither do you, ciratile. you EVER try this shit again with me and mine, and i will rape and plunder the village ,and burn the motherfucker to the ground ... " He looked around at the bodies on the floor. "And as you've seen here today there ain't nothing you bitches can do to stop me. Talk is cheap. Pain is free. And I'm peddling the shit out of it. so you come on and get some. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Whoever has been poor and lonely himself understands other poor and lonely people all the better. At least we should learn to understand our fellow beings, for we are powerless to stop their misery, their ignominy, their suffering, their weakness, and their death.
One day Frau Wilke whispered, as she stretched out her hand and arm to me: "Hold my hand. It's like ice."
I took her poor, old, thin hand in mine. It was cold as ice.
Frau Wilke crept about her home now like a ghost. Nobody visited her. For days she sat alone in her unheated room.
To be alone: icy, iron terror, foretaste of the grave, forerunner of unpitying death. Oh, whoever has been himself alone can never find another's loneliness strange.
I began to realize that Frau Wilke had nothing to eat. The lady who owned the house, and later took Frau Wilke's rooms, allowing me to stay in mine, brought, of course in pity for her forsaken state, every midday and evening a cup of broth, but not for long, and so Frau Wilke faded away. She lay there, no longer moving: and soon she was taken to the city hospital, where, after three days, she died.
One afternoon soon after her death, I entered her empty room, into which the good evening sun was shining, gladdening it with rose-bright, gay and soft colors. There I saw on the bed the things which the poor lady had till recently worn.... The strange sight of them made me unspeakably sad, and my peculiar state of mind made it seem to me almost t ~ Robert Walser

Into trouble we didn't need. And I tried to talk Khaderbhai out of it. I tried to get them to stop. But I didn't feel anything about it, even when they killed Madjid. And I . . . I used to like him, you know? I liked old Madjid. He was the best of them, in a way. But I didn't feel anything when he died. And I didn't feel it, not even a bit, when Khader told me he had to leave you in jail and let you get beaten up. I liked you - more than I liked anyone else - but I didn't feel bad or sorry. I kind of understood it - that it had to happen, and it was just bad luck that it was happening to you. I felt nothing. And that's when it hit me - that's when I knew I had to get away. ~ Gregory David Roberts

I remember a little girl...
But how can that be...
Once I was that little Resi,
and then one day I became an old woman?
...If God wills it so, why allow me to see it?
Why doesn't he hide it from me?
Everything is a mystery, such a deep mystery...
I feel the fragility of things in time.
From the bottom of my heart, I feel we should
cling to nothing.

Everything slips through our fingers.
All that we seek to hold on to dissolves.
Everything vanishes, like mist and dreams...
Time is a strange thing.
When we don't need it, it is nothing.
Then, suddenly, there is nothing else.
It is everywhere around us. Also within us.
It seeps into our faces.

It seeps into the mirror, runs through my temples...
Between you and I it runs silently, like an hourglass.
Oh, Quin Quin.
Sometimes I feel it flowing inexorably.
Sometimes I get up in the middle of the night
and stop all the clocks... ~ Carlo Rovelli

And it was also the moment I knew that I would burn down the city and stop at nothing to find my wife. Not because she was mine, I never believed that for a second, anyway.

Because I was so busy telling Sparrow how much she wanted me, I forgot a small little detail - I wanted her back. More. ~ L.J. Shen

I said, "I want to wear something funny and cool. Marjorie, could I wear your sparkly baseball hat?"

The three of us looked at Marjorie.

Now I remember thinking that her answer could change everything back to the way it was; Dad could find a job and stop praying all the time and Mom could be happy and call Marjorie shellfish again and show us funny videos she found on YouTube, and we all could eat more than just spaghetti at dinner and, most important, Marjorie could be normal again. Everything would be okay if Marjorie would only say yes to me wearing the sparkly sequined baseball hat, the one she'd made in art class a few years ago.

The longer we watched Marjorie and waited for her response, the more the temperature in the room dropped and I knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

She stopped twisting her spaghetti around her fingers. She opened her mouth, and vomit slowly oozed out onto her spaghetti plate.

Dad: "Jesus!"

Mom: "Honey, are you okay?" She jumped out of her seat and went over to Marjorie, stood behind her, and held her hair up.

Marjorie didn't react to either parent, and she didn't make any sounds. She wasn't retching or convulsing involuntarily like one normally does when throwing up. It just poured out of her as though her mouth was an opened faucet. The vomit was as green as spring grass, and the masticated pasta looked weirdly dry, with a consistency of mashed-up dog food. ~ Paul Tremblay

In that distant beginning season, Sun Man's warm magic flowed over all the land. Whenever he raised his arms, it was day. whenever he lowered them, it was night. The Bee People and the Elephant People and the Tic People loved the rhythm of Sun Man's light. Their faces crinkled with pleasure in his heat.

But inside the dreamtime, Sun Man grew old. His back grew stiff and his knee joints ached. He rose later and later each morning. He napped soon after breakfast and went to bed in the afternoon.

"What's going on here?" complained Grandfather Mantis. "I'm not getting heat anymore." Grandfather Mantis sent the Bird People to find out. The Bird People returned, rumpled and solemn. Darkness was everywhere, even though it was supposed to be daytime. "Sun Man is getting old," they explained. "This shining all the time is getting too much for him."

"Well, I'm old," snapped Grandfather Mantis. "Doesn't stop me."

His wife raised her eyebrows but said nothing. ~ Carolyn McVickar Edwards

Burning it up

Fire
Fire
Fire
Fire

When I wake up in my room I have nothing
Once the sun goes down, I stumble
So completely drunk, drunk
Cursing around on the street, street
I'm out of my mind, like an insane person
It's all a mess, livin' like beep

Just live how you want Your life is yours
Don't try so hard It's alright to lose
Errbody say La la la la la (La la la la la)
Say la la la la la (La la la la la)
Put your hands up and shout Burn it up
Burning up

Burn it all Bow wow wow
Burn it all Bow wow wow

Hey, burn it up
Like you want to burn it all
Hey, turn it up
Until the dawn breaks
It's okay to just live We're still young
Who do you think you are to say otherwise
Stop comparing, I'm just me (So what)

Just live how you want Your life is yours
Don't try so hard It's alright to lose
Errbody say La la la la la (La la la la la)
Say la la la la la (La la la la la)
Put your hands up and shout Burn it up
Burning up

Burn it all Bow wow wow
Burn it all Bow wow wow

(Fire) The scared, this way
(Fire) The miserable, this way
(Fire) With your fists up, all night long
(Fire) In marching footsteps
(Fire) Jump, go crazy

Burn it all Bow wow wow
Burn it all Bow wow wow

Fire Fire, burn it all Bow wow wow
Fire Fire , burn it all ~ BTS

I'm human," he said in a tormented tone. "And I'm not." He dropped his hand to her shoulder. "I never knew softness," he breathed. "Not until the moment you touched me in your store. My life is violent and dangerous. Its dark and twisted and no place for someone like you. I have more people wanting me dead than I can count. They will stop at nothing, and you.." He ground his teeth before he spoke again. "You'll never want again for anything in your life. I swear it on what little bit of human soul I have left. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

He stopped and took my hand. "If we die, or if I die ... "
He was speaking of dying, and I couldn't stop smiling.
In the dark he must not have noticed, because he said in a rush, "I must tell you that I love you, and if I live I will ask for your hand, but you needn't say anything now if it distresses you, and I might rather die without knowing that you don't love me if that's how you feel."
I tried to speak, but nothing came. I had gained courage during my adventures, but not for this.
"Addie?"
Too soft to hear, I whispered, "I do love you."
But he heard. He cupped his hand under my chin and tilted my face up so I had to meet his eyes. He was smiling too, with a smile as happy as mine. "Oh, Addie!" He leaned down to kiss me ... ~ Gail Carson Levine

I am beginning to be sorry that I ever undertook to write this book. Not that it bores me; I have nothing else to do; indeed, it is a welcome distraction from eternity. But the book is tedious, it smells of the tomb, it has a rigor mortis about it; a serious fault, and yet a relatively small one, for the great defect of this book is you, reader. You want to live fast, to get to the end, and the book ambles along slowly; you like straight, solid narrative and a smooth style, but this book and my style are like a pair of drunks; they stagger to the right and to the left, they start and they stop, they mutter, they roar, they guffaw, they threaten the sky, they slip and fall ...
And fall! Unhappy leaves of my cypress tree, you had to fall, like everything else that is lovely and beautiful; if I had eyes, I would shed a tear of remembrance for you. And this is the great advantage in being dead, that if you have no mouth with which to laugh, neither have you eyes with which to cry. ~ Machado De Assis

And I can't stop crying for anything in the world right then. And I can't let go of him. Nothing could make me let go of that kid. The house could fall into the sea and crush everybody and we could go underwater and I would hold him the whole time. ~ Hannah Moskowitz

Stalker


The light so thick nothing's visible, cognoscenti

I knew them, stupid apes. Real apes know more

Before we said apes. I know how to be you bet-

ter  -  a stupid voice. You must find a mind

to respect  -  why? There was someone with ear

buds, speaking gibberish who wouldn't

stop walking beside me; freckle-spattered. I

had to ask the métro attendant for help;

she extricated him from me ... I respect his chaotic

speech, mild adhesive force because it makes no sense.

I am back on the alley, discovering adults are un-

trustworthy: someone's lying ... about a

fight between a teenage girl and boy  -  he pushed

her hard  -  first she badly scratched him, she's worse, his

mother says. I'm back at pre-beginning, I don't

want to go through that again. There is no

sexuality in chaos, there's no style, nor

hope. I want style  -  apes have style, people

have machines. Show me something to respect

This bleuet growing out of a wall on rue d'Hauteville.

I picked it and pressed it in a diary. Every once

in a while I respect a moment. I am back at

pre-beginning: I don't want to care beyond

this ... sudden hue in the sand, yellow or spotted with an

hallucinated iridescence. The one who is

stalking me ~ Alice Notley

As a cloud crosses the sun, silence falls on London; and falls on the mind. Effort ceases. Time flaps on the mast. There we stop; there we stand. Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame. Where there is nothing, Peter Walsh said to himself; feeling hollowed out, utterly empty within. Clarissa refused me, he thought. He stood there thinking, Clarissa refused me. ~ Virginia Woolf

Jaime," I said softly, "are you happy about it? About the baby?" Outlawed in Scotland, barred from his own home, and with only vague prospects in France, he could pardonably have been less than enthused about acquiring an additional obligation.

He was silent for a moment, only hugging me harder, then sighed briefly before answering.

"Aye, Sassenach," His hand stayed downward, gently rubbing my belly. "I'm happy. And proud as a stallion. But I am most awfully afraid too."

"About the birth? I'll be all right." I could hardly blame him for apprehension; his own mother had died in childbirth, and birth and its complications were the leading cause of death for women in these times. Still, I knew a thing or two myself, and I had no intention whatever of exposing myself to what passed for medical care here.

"Aye, that--and everything," he said softly. "I want to protect ye like a cloak and shield you and the child wi' my body." His voice was soft and husky, with a slight catch in it. "I would do anything for ye...and yet...there's nothing I can do. It doesna matter how strong I am, or how willing; I canna go with you where ye must go...nor even help ye at all. And to think of the things that might happen, and me helpless to stop them...aye, I'm afraid, Sassenach.

"And yet"--he turned me toward him, hand closing gently over one breast--"yet when I think of you wi' my child at your breast...then I feel as though I've gone hollow a ~ Diana Gabaldon

Ella."
I jump when his warm hand covers mine, and then his head moves to rest on my
shoulder. His soft hair tickles my bare skin, and I force myself not to run a
comforting hand through it. He doesn't deserve comfort right now.
"You can't leave," he whispers, his breath fanning over my neck. "I don't want
you to go."
He kisses my shoulder, but there's nothing sexual about it. Nothing romantic in
the way his hand tightens over my knuckles.
"You belong with us. You're the best thing that ever happened to this family."
Surprise filters through me. Okay. Wow.
"You're ours," Easton mumbles. "I'm sorry about tonight. I really am, Ella.
Please…don't be mad at me."
My anger melts away. He sounds like a lost little boy, and I can't stop myself
from stroking his hair now. "I'm not mad. But dammit, Easton, the gambling needs
to stop. I might not be there to bail you out next time."
"I know." He groans. "You shouldn't have had to bail me out tonight. I promise
I'll pay you back, every last cent. I…" He lifts his head and presses a kiss to my
cheek. "Thank you for doing that. I mean it."
Sighing, I turn my eyes back to the road. "You're welcome. ~ Erin Watt

You think I don't fucking know that? Most of me doesn't want to be able to find her, but the crazy in me can't stop. I have to find her. There is nothing good in me anymore without her. ~ Sarah Brianne

One guy yelled at me, 'You stupid bitch, how do you live like that with nothing in your brain?' Well, that did it. I wasn't going to put up with that. Ok, I'm not so smart. I'm working class. But it's the working class that keeps the world running, and it's the working classes that get exploited. What kind of revolution is it that just throws out big words that working-class people can't understand? What kind of crap social revolution is that? I mean, I'd like to make the world a better place, too. If somebody's really being exploited, we've got to put a stop to it. That's what I believe, and that's why I ask questions. Am I right, or what? ~ Haruki Murakami

You can be the person who puts the 'kick me' sign on the back, or be the person that watches it happen and does nothing, or you can be the person who takes the sign off.

That's it. Every day, every moment of your life, you're making this choice. Life doesn't stop for it, challenges don't make way for it, the choice is there and you own it. Welcome to adulting. ~ Kris Rafferty

Ok. Listen. I not know where all you morons come from but holy water no hurt Bigfoot. Garlic and Crucifix also no. Fire, Pitchfork, Silver Bullet OK. Cryptonite do nothing. It not even real. Please stop sending letters asking "What you vulnerability? What Bigfoot?" Like I tell. What next me bank account number? Why not you invest time in moving out of parent basement? Maybe have sex or something. Yes I be talking to you Steve. Youuu! Stalking is a crime Steve. ~ Graham Roumieu

My gift is execution; when I decide I'm going to do something, I'll stop at nothing to do it. Along the way, you take a lot of risks and go for it, but you have to believe in it. You gotta believe in your idea, and lucky for me, I found a lot of success in that. ~ Rob Dyrdek

See? See what you can do? Never mind you can't tell one letter from another, never mind you born a slave, never mind you lose your name, never mind your daddy dead, never mind nothing. Here, this here, is what a man can do if he puts his mind to it and his back in it. Stop sniveling,' [the land] said. 'Stop picking around the edges of the world. Take advantage, and if you can't take advantage, take disadvantage. We live here. On this planet, in this nation, in this county right here. Nowhere else! We got a home in this rock, don't you see! Nobody starving in my home; nobody crying in my home, and if I got a home you got one too! Grab it. Grab this land! Take it, hold it, my brothers, make it, my brothers, shake it, squeeze it, turn it, twist it, beat it, kick it, kiss it, whip it, stomp it, dig it, plow it, seed it, reap it, rent it, buy it, sell it, own it, build it, multiply it, and pass it on – can you hear me? Pass it on! ~ Toni Morrison

I never understood rape until it happened to me. It was a concept- of savagery, of violence, of disrespect. I had read my share of Kate Millet and Susan Brownmiller but nothing prepared me for how to handle it. Within a marriage, fighting back has consequences. The man who rapes me is not a stranger who runs away. The man who rapes me is not the silhouette in the car park, he is not the masked assaulter, he is not the acquaintance who has spiked my drinks. He is someone who wakes up next to me. He is the husband for whom I make coffee the following morning. He is the husband who can shrug it away and tell me to stop imagining things. He is the husband who can blame his action on unbridled passion the next day, while I hobble from room to room.
I begin to learn that there are no screams that are loud enough to make my husband stop. There are no scream that cannot be silenced by the shock of a tight slap. There is no organic defence that can protect against penetration. He covers himself with enough lubricant to slide part my resistance. My legs go limp. I come apart. ~ Meena Kandasamy

Because he possesses something that is worth more than any amount of intelligence - an honest and faithful heart! It is the matchless treasure that he has carried through his life unharmed. People knocked him down, he grew indifferent and, at last, dropped asleep, crushed, disappointed, having lost the strength to live; but he has not lost his honesty and faithfulness. His heart has never struck a single false note; there is no stain on his character. No well-dressed-up lie has ever deceived him and nothing will lure him from the true path. A regular ocean of evil and baseless may be surging around him, the entire world may be poisoned and turned upside down - Oblomov will never bow down to the idol of falsehood, and his soul will always be pure, noble, honest ... His soul is translucent, clear as crystal. Such people are rare; there aren't many of them; they are like pearls in a crowd! His heart cannot be bribed; he can be relied on always and anywhere. It is to this you have remained faithful, and that is why nothing I do for him will ever be a burden to me. I have known lots of people possessing high qualities, but never have I met a heart more pure, more noble, and more simple. I have loved many people, but no one so warmly and so firmly as Oblomov. Once you know him, you cannot stop loving him. Isn't that so? Am I right? ~ Ivan Goncharov

I don't know how well I can fight, or run, or judge, but when the blade comes, I swear on whatever they want me to swear on, I'll stop it, with my body if nothing else. ~ Sebastien De Castell

What's that?"
"My friend St. Clair bought it for me. So I wouldn't feel out of place."
She raises her eyebrows as she pulls back onto the road. "Are there a lot of Canadians in Paris?"
My face warms. "I just felt,you know, stupid for a while. Like one of those lame American tourists with the white sneakers and the cameras around their necks? So he bought it for me, so I wouldn't feel....embarrassed. American."
"Being American is nothing to be ashamed of," she snaps.
"God,Mom,I know.I just meant-forget it."
"Is this the English boy with the French father?"
"What does that have anything to do with it?" I'm angry. I don't like what she's implying. "Besides,he's American. He was born here? His mom lives in San Francisco. We sat next to each other on the plane."
We stop at a red light.Mom stares at me. "You like him."
"OH GOD,MOM."
"You do.You like this boy."
"He's just a friend.He has a girlfriend."
"Anna has a boooy-friend," Seany chants.
"I do not!"
"ANNA HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!"
I take a sip of coffee and choke. It's disgusting. It's sludge. No, it's worse than sludge-at least sludge is organic. Seany is still taunting me. Mom reaches around and grabs his legs,which are kicking her seat again.She sees me making a face at my drink.
"My,my. Once semester in France, and suddenly we're Miss Sophisticated. Your father will be thrilled."
Like it was my choice! Like I asked to go to Paris! And how dare s ~ Stephanie Perkins

Sorry doesn't mean anything! Not when you're still with him. It's not just that you cheated - it's that he's still here, and you're still with him. It just goes on and on, and it hurts every single time I see you with him. I hate it that he makes you smile, and that there's nothing I can do to stop this. I can't think straight, and everything hurts, and nothing makes sense anymore. You're shredding my heart with one hand and stroking his ego with the other. And it's killing me, Faythe. You're killing me. And it's only going to get worse, now that everyone knows. ~ Rachel Vincent

You promised to be on your best behavior," I reminded him, breathless.
"You kissed me," he growled. His voice had gone very deep.
"Well, but you started it by kissing my neck."
"True. I hadn't planned that." His sultry voice, paired with those blazing eyes, told me I needed to get away from him. I hurried to the end of the bed, where I jumped off and began to pace back and forth, yanking out my loose hairband and pulling my hair back into a tight ponytail. I tried hard not to think about the taste of his lips. I'd had my first kiss, and I'd never be the same.
"Why did you stop?" he asked.
"Because you were moving on to other things."
He scratched his chin and cheek. "Hmm, moved too quickly. Rookie mistake."
I crossed my arms again, watching him speculate internally like a coach outlining a play that had gone wrong. Incredible. Then he sized me up in his sights again.
"But I can see you still want me."
I gave him my meanest stare, but it was hard to look at him. Gosh, he was hot! And a total player. The kiss meant nothing to him.
"Oh," he said with mock sadness, "there it goes. Mad instead? Well, sort of. You can't seem to muster a really good anger - "
"Stop it!"
"Sorry, was I saying that out loud?"
"I can read people, too, you know. Well, not you, but at least I have the decency to try not to notice, to give them some sort of emotional privacy!"
"Yes, how very decent of you." He hadn't moved from his langu ~ Wendy Higgins

Annie turned away, her eyes glittering. 'Here's what no one tells you,' she said. 'When you deliver a fetus, you get a death certificate, but not a birth certificate. And afterward, your milk comes in, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.' She looked up at me. 'You can't win. Either you have the baby and wear your pain on the outside, or you don't have the baby, and you keep that ache in you forever. I know I didn't do the wrong thing. But I don't feel like I did the right thing, either. ~ Jodi Picoult

WILL WORK FOR FOOD © 2013 Lyrics & Music by Michele Jennae
There he was with a cardboard sign,
Will Work For Food
Saw him on the roadside,
As I took my kids to school
I really didn't have time to stop,
Already running late
Found myself pulling over,
Into the hands of fate
The look in his eyes was empty,
But he held out his hand
I knew my kids were watching,
As I gave him all I had
My heart in my throat I had to ask,
"What brought you here?"
He looked up and straight into my eyes,
I wanted to disappear.

CHORUS
He said… Do you think I really saw myself,
Standing in this light
Forgotten by society,
After fighting for your rights
WILL WORK FOR FOOD,
WILL DIE FOR YOU
I AM JUST A FORGOTTEN SOLDIER,
I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO
v. 2 He put the money in his pocket,
Then he took me by the hand
Thank you dear for stopping by,
I am sure that you have plans
He nodded toward my children,
Watching from afar
It's time they were off to school,
You should get in the car
My eyes welled up and tears fell down,
I couldn't say a word
Here this man with nothing to his name,
Showing me his concern
I knew then that the lesson,
That today must be taught
Wouldn't come from textbooks,
And it could not be bought
CHORUS
He said… Do you think I reall ~ Michele Jennae

She keeps her fingers on Faye's face. Faye closes her eyes against tears. When she opens them Julie is still looking at her. She's smiling a wonderful smile. Way past twenty. She takes Faye's hands."'Then tell them to look closely at men's faces. Tell them to stand perfectly still, for time, and to look into the face of a man. A man's face has nothing on it. Look closely. Tell them to look. And not at what the faces do–men's faces never stop moving–they're like antennae. But all the faces do is move through different configurations of blankness.'

Faye looks for Julie's eyes in the mirror.

Julie says, 'Tell them there are no holes for your fingers in the masks of men. Tell them how could you ever even hope to have what you can't grab onto.'

Julie turns her makeup chair and looks up at Faye. 'That's when I love you, if I love you,' she whispers, running a finger down her white powdered cheek, reaching to trace an angled line of white onto Faye's own face. 'Is when your face moves into expression. Try to look out from yourself, different, all the time. Tell people that you know your face is at least pretty at rest.'

'You asked me once how poems informed me,' she says. Almost a whisper–her microphone voice. 'And you asked whether we, us, depended on the game, to even be. Baby?'–lifting Faye's face with one finger under the chin–'Remember? Remember the ocean? Our dawn ocean, that we loved? We loved it because it was like us, Faye. That w ~ David Foster Wallace

The back of my neck breaks out in a sweat, and I'm getting nervous. Why is he just standing there, staring at me? "What do you want?" I press, my tone curt.

He opens his mouth but then closes it swallowing.

"Pike, Jesus - "
"The day you left," he blurts out, and I stop.

I wait, listening as a look of fear crosses his eyes.

"The house was so empty," he continues. "Like a quiet that was never there before. I couldn't hear your footsteps upstairs or your hairdryer or anticipate you walking into a room. You were gone. Everything was…" he drops his eyes, "gone."

A ball lodges in my throat, and I feel tears threaten, but I tense my jaw, refusing to let it out.

"But I could still feel you," he whispers. "You were still everywhere. The container of cookies in the fridge, the backsplash you picked out, the way you put all my pictures back in the wrong spot after you dusted my bookshelves." He smiles to himself. "But I couldn't rearrange them, because you were the last to touch them, and I wanted everything the way you had it."

My chin trembles, and I fold my arms over my chest, hiding my balled fists under my arms.

He pauses and then goes on. "Nothing would ever go back to the way it was before you came into my house. I didn't want it to." He shakes his head. "I went to work, and I came home, and I stayed there every night and all weekend, every weekend, because that's where we were together. ~ Penelope Douglas, Birthday Girl

When I was a teenager I decided I was going to be a writer and that nothing was going to stop me. It sounds almost villainous. But I knew that was what I wanted. ~ Markus Zusak

To be in any form, what is that?
(round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back thither,)
If nothing lay more develop'd the quahung in it's callous shell were enough.
Mine is no callous shell.
I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop,
they seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me.
I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and I am happy, to touch my person to someone else's is about as much as I can stand. ~ Walt Whitman

Moses

Come.
When?
Now. This way. I will guide you.
Wait! Not so fast.
Hurry. You. I said you.
Who am I?
Certainly I will be with thee.
Is nothing, then, what it is? I had rather the rod had
stayed a rod and not become a serpent.
Come. Quickly. While the blast of my breath opens the sea.
Stop. I'm thirsty.
Drink water from this rock.
But the rock moves on before us.
Go with it and drink.
I'm tired. Can't you stop for a while?
You have already tarried too long.
But if I am to follow you I must know your name.
I will be that I will be.
You have set the mountain on fire.
Come. Climb.
I will be lost in the terror of your cloud.
You are stiff-necked and of a stiff-necked people.
YOUR poeple, Lord,
Indubitably.
Your wrath waxes hot. I burn.
Thus to become great.
Show me, then, they glory.
No man may see my face and live. But I will cover you with my hand while I pass by.
My people turn away and cry because the skin of my
face shines
Did you not expect this?
I cannot enter the tent of the congregation while your
cloud covers it and your glory fills the tabernacle.
Look. It moves before us again. Can you not stay still?
Come. Follow.
But this river is death. The waters are dark and deep.
Swim.
Now will I see your face? Where are you taking me
now?
Up the mo ~ Madeleine L'Engle

You are wrong to assume that I insist upon perfection in a woman. I enjoy physical beauty like any other man, but it's hardly a requirement. That would be hypocritical, coming from a man who is far from handsome himself."
Aline paused in surprise, regarding his broad, even features, his strong jaw, the shrewd black eyes set beneath the straight lines of his brows. "You are attractive," she said earnestly. "Perhaps not in the way that someone like Mr. Shaw is... but few men are."
Her brother shrugged. "Believe me, it doesn't matter, since I've never found my looks- or lack thereof- to be an impediment in any way. Which has given me a very balanced perspective on the subject of physical beauty- a perspective that someone with your looks rarely attains."
Aline frowned, wondering if she was being criticized.
"It must be extraordinarily difficult," Marcus continued, "for a woman as beautiful as you to feel that there is a part of you that is shameful and must be concealed. You've never made peace with it, have you?"
Leaning her head back against the settee, Aline shook her head. "I hate these scars. I'll never stop wishing that I didn't have them. And there's nothing I can do to change them."
"Just as McKenna can never change his origins."
"If you're trying to draw a parallel, Marcus, it won't do any good. McKenna's origins have never mattered to me. There is nothing that would make me stop loving him-" She stopped abruptly as she understood the ~ Lisa Kleypas

Cabal. Cabal. Cabal. I summon you to me. Now."
Simi and Kody exchanged a look that said he was as crazy as he suddenly felt when nothing happened.
Great, Dad. I can look stupid on my own. Didn't really need you to help out on that front.
That was his thought until he heard a curse and something slammed into him, knocking him against the wall. Nick shoved his attacker away, then froze as he looked into a pair of familiar, startled brown eyes.
Now this was the giant badass-tough demon that Nick was used to.
"Malphas?"
Tense and braced to fight, Caleb turned around slowly, surveying every aspect of his new surroundings. He paused as he faced Kody and Simi. "Where the heck am I? And how did I get here?"
Kody pointed to Nick. "Apparently, Nick summoned you."
"Nick?" Caleb glanced right past Nick and kept searching the room with his gaze. "Our Nick? Where is the little booger?"
She gestured even more exaggeratedly at Nick's position. "Right there."
Caleb's jaw went slack as he faced him."Nick?"
"Caleb?"
The word had barely left his lips before Caleb grabbed him into a bear hug and held him tight. Which was extremely awkward and gross. Completely weirded out by it, Nick tried to disentangle himself from the demon. It wasn't like Caleb to show any emotion toward him other than irritation or frustration. Sometimes anger.
"Stop C! If you're going to hug me like this, you got to buy me dinner first, boy. And it's got to be ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

I love you, Em. I love you so fucking much," I wihispered. She craweld back into my arms and began to cry. i told myself I'd be strong, that I'd never let her see me cry, but there was nothing I could do right now then to stop the tears as they rolled down my cheeks.

"I'll always love you, Andy. Forever. ~ Missy Johnson

Adrian:No, you will listen. For once, you're going to hear somethin that doesn't fit into your neat, compartmentalized world of order and logic and reason. Because this isn't reasonable. If your're terrified, believe me – this scares the hell out of me, too. You asked about Rose? I tried tob e a better person for her – but it was to impress her, to get her to want me. But when I'm arbound you, I want to be better because … well, because it feels right. Because I want to. You make me want to become something greater than myself. I want to excel. You inspire me in every act, every word, every glance. I look at you, and you're like … like light made into flesh. I said it on Halloween and meant every word: you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen walking this earth. And you don't even know it. You have no clue how beautiful you are or how brightly you shine. And i know, Sage. I know how you guys feel about us. I'm not stupid, and believe me, I've tried to get you out of my head. But there isn't enough liquor or art or any other distraction in the world to do it. I had to stop going to Wolfe's because it was too hard being that close to you, even i fit was all just pretend fighting. I couldn't stand the touching. It was agonizing because it meant something to me – and I knew it meant nothing to you. I kept telling myself to stay away altogehter, and then I'd find excuses … like the car … anything to be around you again. Hayden was an asshole, but at least as long as yo ~ Richelle Mead

We are working! She was fine. You could see her. What the fuck is wrong with you? This is our job, asshole. You can't go doing shit like that when we have a packed house!"

Krit shoved him again. "Don't tell me what the fuck to do."

I had to stop them. This was about me. I wasn't sure why Krit had come offstage, but I knew it was about me. I had to fix this. I didn't want Krit fighting his best friend.

"Stop fucking shoving me, you pansy-ass motherfucker!" Green roared, and lunged for Krit.

I moved fast, putting up two hands and jumping in front of Krit to stop him. The force of impact when Green didn't stop hit me directly in the chest. It was as if someone had put a vacuum in my lungs and sucked all of the oxygen from the room. Nothing was getting in, and panic gripped me when I realized I couldn't breathe.

"Fuck!" Krit yelled, and his arms were around me. He was doing something to my chest as he begged me to breathe. I was trying to breathe. It wouldn't work.

"Baby, please breathe," he was pleading, and I wanted nothing more than to do that, but I couldn't. It hurt, and the terror that I was about to die settled over me.

"She got the air knocked out of her. She's gonna be okay," Matty said in a calmer voice.

And then the vacuum left, and the air I had been fighting for filled my chest as I gasped loudly and bent over. Krit was holding me against him as me muttered sweet things over and o ~ Abbi Glines

You have a visitors," Maximus stated. His face was impassive, but I still cringed, trying to discreetly tug my hand out of Vlad's. He let me go and folded his arms, smiling in that scary, pleasant way at Maximus.
"And they are so important that you had to find me at once and enter without knocking?"
I heard the threat behind those words and blanched. He wasn't about to throw down on Maximus over this, was he? Don't, I sent him, not adding the please only because I knew the word didn't work on him.
"Forgive me, but it's Mencheres and his co-ruler," Maximus stated, not sounding apologetic even though he bowed. "Their wives as well." I started to slink away, sanity returning now that I wasn't caught up by Vlad's mesmerizing nearness. What had I been doing? Nothing smart, that was for sure.
"Leila Stop," Vlad said I kept heading for the door. "You have company, so I'll just make myself scarce-"
"Stop"
I did at his commanding tone, and then cursed. I wasn't one of his employees-he had no right to order me around. "NO," I said defiantly. "I'm sweaty, and bloody and I want to take a shower, so whatever you have to say, it can wait."
Maximus lost his impassive expression and looked at me as if I'd suddenly sprouted a second head. Vlad's brow drew together and he opened his mouth, but before he could speak, laughter rang out from the hallway.
"I simply must meet whoever has put you in your place so thoroughly, Tepesh," an unfamiliar British voic ~ Jeaniene Frost

My mind, I know, I can prove, hovers on hummingbird wings. It hovers and it churns. And when it's operating at full thrust, the churning does not stop. The machines do not rest, the systems rarely cool. And while I can forget anything of any importance
this is why people tell me secrets
my mind has an uncanny knack for organization when it comes to pain. Nothing tormenting is ever lost, never even diminished in color or intensity or quality of sound. ~ Dave Eggers

Do you realise the effect you have on
women?' I spread my palms over the tops of his thighs.
'Is it similar to the one you have on me?' He laces his fingers through mine. 'Do they stop
breathing for a few seconds every time they see me?' He presses his lips onto my temple and inhales
deeply. 'Do they want to keep me in a glass box so nothing and no one can hurt me?'
I almost stop breathing.
He sighs heavily, and I rise and fall on his chest 'Do they think their life would be over if I
wasn't here?' he finishes softly. ~ Jodi Ellen Malpas

106When I don't have anything to read, I feel like a tortoise without a shell or a boat without an anchor. There is nothing to hide under. Nowhere to stop and rest. When I don't have a book, there is nowhere good or interesting to be, there is nobody to care about, nothing to hope for, and nothing to puzzle over. When I do have something to read, it keeps me breathing. It's the reward for all the other things. It's the thing to look forward to, the reason for doing my day."
p. 177, Dime ~ E.R. Frank

Antonio stepped into Pax's path and said, in English, "Go back to Lazarus and tell him we'll settle whatever claim he has on Sara. She is Baldoni. Ours. Run tell him that, figlio di puttana."
"He's not from Lazarus," she snapped.
"All the better," Antonio said. "Nothing to stop me from cutting his bollocks off."
"You will leave his bollocks precisely as they are."
"I am your closest male relation - "
"You are my closest male idiot. No-one removes any man's balls on my behalf. I will do whatever castrating is necessary among my acquaintance."
"Children," Uncle Bernadro said midly, "he speaks Italian. ~ Joanna Bourne

Is Etienene okay?"
"Haven't seen him.He went to Ellie's last night."
Just when I thought I couldn't feel any worse.I twist the corners of my pillow. "Did I,uh,say anything weird to him last night?"
"Apart from acting like a jealous girlfriend and saying you never wanted to speak to him again? No. Nothing weird at all." I moan as she recounts the night for me blow by blow. "Listen," she says when she finishes, "what's the deal with you two?""
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean.You two are inseparable."
"Except when he's with his girlfriend."
"Right.So what's the deal?"
I groan again. "I don't know."
"Have you guys...you know...done anything?"
"No!"
"But you like him.And he likes you, too."
I stop choking my pillow. "You think?"
"Please.The boy gets a boner every time you walk in the room."
My eyes pop back open. Does she mean that figuratively or has she actually seen something? No. Focus, Anna. "So why-"
"Why is he still with Ellie? He told you last night. He's lonely, or at least he's scared of being lonely. Josh says with all of this stuff with his mom, he's been too freaked out to change anything else in his life."
So Meredith was right. Etienne is afraid of change. Why haven't I talked about this with Rashmi before? It seems obvious now.Of course she has inside information,because Etienne talks to Josh,and Josh talks to Rashmi.
"You really think he likes me?" I can't help it.
~ Stephanie Perkins

When I reached him, I anchored my hands on my hips and glared. "Do not get into anymore fights on my behalf." I didn't want him suspended-or worse. "Now give me your keys."
He gently flicked the end of my nose. "Haven't you heard? I do what I want, when I want, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me."
I could knee him between the legs and simply steal his keys, proving otherwise, but all I said was, "Believe me, I've witnessed that firsthand," and held out my hands. "Now be a good boy and do what I want you to do."
He lifted the sunglasses and I saw a bright gleam in those violet eyes. "And what is it, exactly, that Little Ali wants?"
Little Ali. Ugh. "I said give me your keys." No reason to play nice. He certainly wasn't. "And if you call me Little Ali again, I'll smash your trachea the way I hear you like to to others."
Suddenly suspicious, he snapped out a quick "Why?"
"Because I hate it."
"Not the name. The keys."
"Hello. Because I want to stab you with them, why else?"
"Why?"He insisted.
Fine. "Because I need to practice my driving, and I promised my grandparents I would."
"You're telling me..." The glasses slid back into place as he cupped the back of my neck and dragged me closer to him, peering down at me sternly. "That you Don't know how to drive?"
"Of course I know how to drive. Now, if you ask me if I know how to drive well, the answer will be different."
He choked out a laugh, but backed away a ~ Gena Showalter

I'm so close to crying, I don't think I can stop myself. They're alive. They're alive and nothing else matters. Tears are already starting to burn my eyes, clouding my vision.

Kiaran looks at me with an expression I've never seen on him. It takes me a moment to realize it's dawning horror. "Kam. Kam, don't do that. Don't cry. Don't - "

Then I'm crying and he puts his arms around me in quite possibly the most awkward, stiff embrace I've ever had in my life. And I adore every second of it.

Aithinne speaks from behind us. "I admit to being somewhat unclear on the function of human tears," she says. "So we're sad about this? Should I menace someone?"

In lieu of a response, the only thing I can manage is something of a half-laugh, half-sob, because they're alive and I haven't felt like this in so long.

"For god's sake, Aithinne," Kiaran says, his voice rumbling through his chest, "put the blade away. You're not going to stab Kam's idiot friends." Then, after a moment: "On second thought, the Seer really serves no purpose . . ."

"Oh, shush." I look up at him, whisking the tears off my cheeks. "Don't ruin this. It helps if you don't speak." Then I press my face back into his chest. "And if you stop responding to my hug like I'm torturing you."

Kiaran makes some attempt to relax, but he could use lessons in hugging. He ends up with one hand shoved up in my hair and the other giving my back a there there pat, ~ Elizabeth May

I love you, you love me, our family loves us and they're right here beside us. Nothing else matters . So no fears for the future, no fear that you'll fuck it up beyond repair. Life isn't perfect, we aren't perfect, but I'm telling you now, Jocelyn, we're indestructible. Stop shaking, and just marry me. ~ Samantha Young

Nothing she says or does would surprise me." Gideon faced the helm once more, putting his back to Barnaby. He wasn't about to go anywhere near Sara again, not the way he was feeling now. Let Barnaby deal with her today.
"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean it's nothing to worry about. You've got more schooling than I have, but isn't Lysistrata the play where the women refuse to have relations with their husbands until the men agree to stop going to war?"
With a groan, Gideon clenched the wheel. Lysistrata was among the many words of literature his father had forced down his throat once he was old enough to read. "Yes. But don't try to tell me she's teaching them that. It's Greek, for god's sake. They wouldn't understand a word, even if she knew it well enough to recite it."
"She knows it well enough to give them a free translation, I assure you. When I left her she was telling them the story with great enthusiasm."
Barnaby reached for the helm when Gideon swung away from it with an oath. "I should never have taken her aboard," he grumbled as he strode for the ladder. "I should have sent her back to England gagged and bound! ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Slaying a villain in the service of your king is the stuff of legends and what heroes are made of." [Fanen told Myron]
"It didn't feel very heroic. It made me sick. I don't even know why I ... no, that's a lie. I really have to stop doing that." [Myron said]
"Doing what?"
"Lying. ( ... ) It's evidence of self loathing. You see, when you are so ashamed of your actions, thoughts, or intentions, you lie to hide it rather than accept yourself for who you really are. The idea of how others see you becomes more important than the reality of you.
"It's like when a man would rather die than be thought of a coward. His life is not as important to him as his reputation. In the end, who is the braver? The man who dies rather than be thought of as a coward or the man who lives willing to face who he really is?" [Myron finished]
"I'm sorry, you lost me there" Fanen said with a quizzical look. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

You get one chance.

You get to do this and that and you don't even know when it goes from swirling forward and around and around in circles to just a plain cold stop and nothing more. Can you believe it? All this time I've spent weighing this and weighing that, worrying about this and worrying about that, living back then and living forward, caring about so-and-so, too, but never living here, here, this moment here. Never even acknowledging that this moment even exists, and it hits me like a live volt through the chest. ~ Andrea Portes

Dear Oscar

I don't know how to say this any other way but, you see, I need to explain something. I can't stop thinking about that night when you rescued Barney with you tart – and how good and kind I realise you've always been. It wasn't until this morning when you sent me an apple tart of my own that I finally knew what it is that I have to tell you.
The timing is pretty terrible, but, you see, the reason I haven't wanted to go away is because I've wanted to stay here, and the reason I've wanted to stay here is because of you.
I've nothing against New Zealand or anything but because of how I feel, specifically about you, the whole world looks different.
I don't know whether it's because of everything has got darker or lighter. I guess that depends on how you feel about me which is, I hope, the same.
So anyways, look, you've convinced me that I should, as you say 'embrace the adventure' so that is what I have decided to do. It was the taste of you apple tart that finally made up my mind to give this my all. But I need to know you'll be here when I come back.
I love you Oscar Dunleavy.
I've been falling in love with you since that day we first met.
I need to have some idea about whether you feel the same way about me. Send me a sign.
Anything will do.
Love,
Meg ~ Sarah Moore Fitzgerald

Ask and it shall be given you,'" I began. "'Seek and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you; For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.' We have the same message in the Book of Saint John," I said, sounding for all the world like a preacher...."
Well, but how could I just stop there? Those words were worse than nothing if I didn't tell what they meant to Grandpa. Looking at the long rough box, I spoke timid, in a mumbled voice. Not preachified at all. "Grandpa didn't think Jesus meant, by that, that we should ast God for things, or for special favors. He said we could trust that in the nature of things, without astin', we'll get lots of blessin's and happy surprises and maybe a miracle or two. When Jesus said ast and you'll get it, He meant things of the spirit, not the flesh. Right now for instance, I could ast, 'Lord please raise Grandpa from the dead,' but it wouldn't happen. But I can say, 'Please, God, comfort me,' and I'll get heart's ease. Grandpa said Jesus meant us to ast for hope, forgiveness, and all that. Ast, 'Hep us not be scared, hep us not be greedy, give us courage to try." I was really carried away. "Ast any such and God will give it to you. But don't ast Him not to let fire burn, or say spare me from death. At least, uh, that's what Grandpa said. ~ Olive Ann Burns

I myself have a number of duties to attend to, so I must leave."
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Why?"
He paused and took a step to me. Darkness, soft-edged and heavy, clung to the room. In the shadows, his smile held all the lazy grace of a cat.
"Would you miss me?"
"Curiosity inspired my question. Nothing more," I said, but even my voice was unconvinced.
"Even so, there's no greater temptation than to stay by your side. ~ Roshani Chokshi

Gavin, I can't talk to you here. People will call me crazy."

My imaginary friend smirked. "But you're already talking to me."

"Well, I have to stop."

His smirk grew cocky. "I doubt you can resist."

And he was right. There was nothing I wanted more than to give my full attention to an imagined shadow and ignore those who ignored me in the real world. I wanted to talk out loud to Gavin―to play and laugh boisterously with him. In a dream I could justify such behavior, but to succumb to hallucinations while wide awake would only prove me insane. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

And then we jerked to a stop. Jared was blocking the exit. "Have you lost your mind, Ian?" he asked, shocked and outraged. "What are you doing to her?"
"Did you know about this?" Ian shouted back, shoving me toward Jared and shaking me at him.
"You're going to hurt her!"
"Do you know what she's planning?" Ian roared.
Jared stared at Ian, his face suddenly closed off. He didn't answer. That was answer enough for Ian.
Ian's fist struck Jared so fast that I missed the blow - I just felt the lurch in his body and saw Jared reel back into the dark hall.
"Ian, stop," I begged.
"You stop," he growled back at me.
He yanked me through the arch into the tunnel, then pulled me north. I had to almost run to keep up with his longer stride.
"O´Shea!" Jared shouted after us.
"I'm going to hurt her?" Ian roared back over his shoulder, not breaking pace. "I am? You hypocritical swine!"
There was nothing but silence and blackness behind us now. I stumbled in the dark, trying to keep up.
He jerked me along faster, and my breath caught in a moan, almost like a cry of pain.
The sound made Ian stumble to a stop. His breathing was hoarse in the darkness.
"Ian, Ian, I..." I chocked, unable to finish. I didn't know what to say, picturing his furious face.
His arms caught me abruptly, yanking my feet out from under me and then catching my shoulders before I could fall. He started running forward again, carrying me now. His hand ~ Stephenie Meyer

I felt that what I had been standing on had collapsed and that I had nothing left under my feet. What I had lived on no longer existed, and there was nothing left.

My life came to a standstill. I could breathe, eat, drink, and sleep, and I could not help doing these things; but there was no life, for there were no wishes the fulfillment of which I could consider reasonable. If I desired anything, I knew in advance that whether I satisfied my desire or not, nothing would come of it. Had a fairy come and offered to fulfil my desires I should not have know what to ask. If in moments of intoxication I felt something which, though not a wish, was a habit left by former wishes, in sober moments I knew this to be a delusion and that there was really nothing to wish for. I could not even wish to know the truth, for I guessed of what it consisted. The truth was that life is meaningless. I had as it were lived, lived, and walked, walked, till I had come to a precipice and saw clearly that there was nothing ahead of me but destruction. It was impossible to stop, impossible to go back, and impossible to close my eyes or avoid seeing that there was nothing ahead but suffering and real death--complete annihilation. ~ Leo Tolstoy

And to all the young people in particular, I hope you will hear this. I have, as Tim said, spent my entire adult life fighting for what I believe in. I've had successes and I've had setbacks. Sometimes, really painful ones. Many of you are at the beginning of your professional public and political careers. You will have successes and setbacks, too. This loss hurts, but please never stop believing that fighting for what's right is worth it. It is. It is worth it. And so we need, we need you to keep up these fights now and for the rest of your lives. And to all the women, and especially the young women, who put their faith in this campaign and in me, I want you to know that nothing has made me prouder than to be your champion. Now, I, I know, I know we have still not shattered that highest and hardest glass ceiling, but someday, someone will, and hopefully sooner than we might think right now. And, and to all the little girls who are watching this, never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and achieve your own dreams. ~ Hillary Rodham Clinton

The turning-point [in Klosters, Switzerland in 1988]

[Diana's sister] Jane's wonderfully solid. If you ring up with a drama, she says: 'Golly, gosh, Duch, how horrible, how sad and how awful' and gets angry. But my sister Sarah swears: 'Poor Duch, such a shitty thing to happen.' My father says: 'Just remember we always love you.'
But that summer [1988] when I made so many cock-ups I sat myself down in the autumn, when I was in Scotland, and I remember saying to myself: 'Right, Diana, it's no good, you've got to change it right round, this publicity, you've got to grow up and be responsible. You've got to understand that you can't do what other 26- and 27-year olds are doing. You've been chosen to do a position so you must adapt to the position and stop fighting it.' I remember my conversation so well, sitting by water. I always sit by water when contemplating.
Stephen Twigg [a therapist] who comes to see me said once: 'Whatever anybody else thinks of you is none of your business.' That sat with me. Then once someone said to me, when I said I've got to go up to Balmoral, and they said: 'Well, you've got to put up with them but they've also got to put up with you.' This myth about me hating Balmoral--I love Scotland but just the atmosphere drains me to nothing. I go up 'strong Diana.' I come away depleted of everything because they just suck me dry, because I tune in to all their moods and, boy, are there some undercurrents there! Instead of having a holida ~ Andrew Morton

He took her lips with a wicked kiss, a growl rolling deep as he moved carefully, slowly pulling out until he was nearly gone from her, then rocking back into her gently, over and over, his thumb working against her, ensuring her pleasure even as he wondered if he would be able to hold his at bay.
"Michael," she whispered, and he met her gaze, worried that he might be hurting her. He stilled.
She arched her back. "Don't stop. Don't stop moving. You were right..." Her eyes drifted closed, and she gave a moan of pleasure as he sank into her with one long stroke. He thought he might lose control at the sound of that moan, low and beautiful, at the back of her throat, but he did not stop.
She shook her head, her hands running over his shoulders and down his back, finally coming to rest on his buttocks, clasping in time to his movements, to the stroke of his thumb. "Michael!"
It was happening to him, too.
He'd never given much thought to timing his release to his partner's. He'd never cared to share the experience. But, suddenly, he could think of nothing but meeting Penelope there, on the edge of her pleasure, and letting it crash over both of them. "Wait for me," he whispered at her ear, thrusting against her. "Don't go without me."
"I can't wait. I can't stop it!" She convulsed around him, milking him in a rapid, stunning rhythm, his name on her lips sending him into oblivion, tumbling over the edge in a terrifying, extravagant climax that rivaled a ~ Sarah MacLean

I hated the idea of such a glorious creature beating itself to death in pursuit of something it could never have. It was, after all, just a light. The moth had no idea why it wanted it, only that it did.
I paused at the window. "You're just like them you know. You want the light so bad because you think it's wonderful, and power-ful, and the answer to all of your little moth dreams, but in reality it is just a deadly desire. No matter what you do, no matter how bad you want it, you can never have it. Don't you see? The light will bring you nothing but death."
Slowly, I opened my hand again. "Now, go, live your life. Find another moth and make little moth babies, and stop chasing light fixtures," I instructed, raising my hand toward the stars. Once again, the moth watched me, then fluttered its wings and took off. This time, it flew away, disappearing into the dark.
I leaned my head against the window frame, watching, think-ing, wondering if the little critter would ever find happiness. It didn't take long to get an answer. There, on the other side of the parking lot, was the moth, buzzing wildly against a street light. I began to cry.
"I know how you feel, little one," I sobbed. "No matter what happens, no matter how wrong it is, my heart wants what it wants. I'm just like you, and they are my light. ~ Christi Anna

He doesn't say anything for a while, just studies me in that intense way. His nostrils flare, and again it's like he's taking in my scent or something. He continues, "Somehow, I think I know you. From the first moment I saw you, I felt that I knew you."
The words run through me, reminding me of when he let me escape in the mountains. He's good. Protective. I have nothing to fear from him, but everything to fear from his family.
I scoot closer, the draw of him too great. My warming core, the vibrations inside my chest feel so natural, so effortless around him. I know I need to be careful, exercise restraint, but it feels so good.
The pulse at his neck skips against his flesh. "Jacinda."
My skin ripples at his hoarse whisper. I stare up at him, waiting. He slides sown to land solidly on my step. He brings his face close to mine, angles his head. His breath is hard. Fast. Fills the space, the inch separating us.
I touch his cheek, see my hand shake, and quickly pull it back. He grabs my wrist, places my palm back against his cheek, and closes his eyes like he's in agony. Or bliss. Or maybe both. Like he's never been touched before. My heart squeezes. Like I've never touched anyone before.
"Don't stay away from me anymore."
I stop myself, just barely, from telling him I won't. I can't promise that. Can't lie.
He opens his eyes. States starkly, bleakly. "I need you. ~ Sophie Jordan

She asks, and something in your head tells you that what she's doing is right – and that it's the only reason she has to live. She asked me to die defending her – knowing I didn't even like her much. Quick, for the rest of my life, I will never forget that moment.'
'And you still can't quite work out what happened.'
The assassin nodded. 'All at once, it's as if she's somehow laid bare your soul and there it is, exposed, trembling, vulnerable beyond all belief – and she could take it, grasp it tight until the blood starts dripping. She could even stab it right through. But she didn't – she didn't do any of that, Quick. She reached down, her finger hovered, and then … gone, as if that was all she needed.'
'You can stop now,' the wizard muttered. 'What you're talking about – between two people – it almost never happens. Maybe it's what we all want, but Kalam, it almost never happens.'
'There was no respect in what Laseen offered,' the assassin said. 'It was a raw bribe, reaching for the worst in me. But from Tavore …'
'Nothing but respect. Now I see it, Kal. I see it. ~ Steven Erikson

This place is packed," Vee complained. "Where am I supposed to park?" She steered down an alley and slowed to a stop behind a bookstore. "This looks good. Lots of parking back here."
"The sign says employee parking only."
"How are they going to know that we aren't employees? The Neon blends right in. All these cars speak low class."
"The sign says violators will be towed."
"They just say that to scare people like you and me away. It's an empty threat. Nothing to worry about."
...
Vee came to a halt. "What is THAT?"
We were standing in the parking lot behind the bookstore, a few feet from the Neon, and we were staring at a large piece of metal attached to the left rear tire.
"I think it's a car boot," I said.
"I can see that. What's it doing on my car?"
"I guess when they say all violators will be towed, they mean it. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

What are we talking about?" Alex says. "This is fucking nonsense."

The couple ahead of us turns slightly.

"What are you looking at?" Alex says to them.

I don't bother to reprimand her, because really, what are they looking at? I slow my pace and Alex punches Scottie in the arm.

"Ow!" Scottie screams.

"Alex! Why are we still on this pattern?"

"Hit her back, Dad," Scottie yells.

Alex grabs Scottie's neck.

"You're hurting me," Scottie says.

"That's kind of the point," Alex says.

I grab both children by the arm and pull them down to the sand. Sid covers his mouth with his hand and bends over, laughing silently.

"'What do you love about Mom?'" Alex says, mimicking her sister. "Shut up, already. And stop babying her."

I sit down between them and don't say a word. Sid sits next to Alex. "Easy, tiger," he says. I look at the waves crashing down on the sand. A few women walk by and give me this knowing look, as though a father with his kids is such a precious sight. It takes so little to be revered as a father. I can tell the girls are waiting for me to say something, but what can I say that hasn't been said? I've shouted, I've reasoned, I've even spanked. Nothing works.

"What do you love about Mom, Scottie?" I ask, glaring at Alex.

She takes a moment to think. "Lots of stuff. She's not old and ugly, like most moms."

"What ~ Kaui Hart Hemmings

What are you so afraid will happen? Afraid you might start to like me?"
He said nothing.
Despite her fatigue, she trotted ahead of him. "That's it, isn't it? You don't want to like a Grisha. You're scared that if you laugh at my jokes or answer my questions, you might start thinking I'm human. Would that be so terrible?"
"I do like you."
"What was that?"
"I do like you," he said angrily.
She'd beamed, feeling a well of pleasure erupt through her. "Now, really, is that so bad?"
"Yes!" he roared.
"Why?"
"Because you're horrible. You're loud and lewd and . . . treacherous. Brum warned us that Grisha could be charming."
"Oh, I see. I'm the wicked Grisha seductress. I have beguiled you with my Grisha wiles!"
She poked him in the chest.
"Stop that."
"No. I'm beguiling you."
"Quit it."
She danced around him in the snow, poking his chest, his stomach, his side. "Goodness! You're very solid. This is strenuous work." He started to laugh. "It's working! The beguiling has begun. The Fjerdan has fallen. You are powerless to resist me. ~ Leigh Bardugo

It's only just beginning to occur to me that it's important to have something going on somewhere, at work or at home, otherwise you're just clinging on. [ ... ] You need as much ballast as possible to stop you floating away; you need people around you, things going on, otherwise life is like some film where the money ran out, and there are no sets, or locations, or supporting actors, and it's just one guy on his own staring into the camera with nothing to do and nobody to speak to, and who'd believe in this character then? I've got to get more stuff, more clutter, more detail in here, because at the moment I'm in danger of falling off the edge. ~ Nick Hornby

I've been through hell and back. I have, to be honest, and still I'm able to do what I do and nothing can stop me. No one can stop me, no matter what. I stop when I'm ready to stop. You know, and I'm just saying, you know, I will continue to move forward no matter what. ~ Michael Jackson

When the sands run out for someone, don't stop them going. You can't give them anything to replace life. Do you think I didn't love Polett? That it meant nothing to me when she'd had enough and wanted out? It's just that, as well as love, you also have to know how to kill. It won't do you any harm to remember that. Ask your God - since you're on such good terms with him - what Polett told him when they finally met. ~ Magda Szabo

I love you, Ivy. I'll never stop loving you."
She leaned against the winsow, looking out on a pale and glittering night. She looked through tears.
I prayed for one more chance to reach you," he said, "to tell you how much I love you and to tell you to keep on loving. Someone else was meant for you, Ivy, and you were meant for someone else."
She stood up straight. "No."
Yes, love," he said, softly but firmly.
No!"
Promise me, Ivy-"
I'll promise you nothing but that I love you," she cried.
Listen to me," Tristan pleaded. "You know I can't stay any longer."
The pale, glittering night was raining now, and fresh tears gleamed on her cheeks, but he had to leave.
I love you," he said. "I love you. Love him.
- Tristan Carruthers - ~ Elizabeth Chandler

so who cares what she was before you met her?" "Yeah, but a virgin? I want nothing to do with that." "Well, she isn't a virgin anymore." That made Blake stop. "I guess you're right. What good would it do me to send her back? It's not like she didn't know what she was ~ Melody Anne

Tears flood in you
your eyes burning
your heart scars with my name scratched deep
My face is gone
my heart betrayed by your lullabies
I'm a shadow of a girl inside
Hands are touching you
nothing takes the place of you
Heart wrench, weeps goodbye
Lullabies, beautiful and trusting
Barely breathing as they break into dust
Lonely corners me
Sweeps me off my feet
Shows me it was better for me
Fingertips holding close
your grip not as soft
Follows me to an empty bed
I can't stop the weakening of my soul
my body is dying
your tune is holding my mind
Let me go
see what I do
No control
No you
You whisper your sweet goodbye
If it is small it won't interrupt my sleep
But my heart you keep
You say it's for me
But who would be happy?
Alone left out in the cold ~ Mercy Cortez

Seriously... a sermon is not going to achieve anything. We all know perfectly well that one must not commit suicide. And yet there are times when the world we live in becomes so tough on us that we play with the thought. Therefore, it's useless to appeal to ethics; he ought to go with a more practical and concrete approach. If I were to stop suicide, I would do it like this: "Dying means falling into an eternal state of nothingness, a perfect void that can't be conceived by anything that is alive. Just think about it: your brain goes away. You do not have any thought anymore. Surely, you've heard of the phrase 'I think, thus I am,' no? Give it some careful thought. Nothing exists. Do you get this? Nothing exists. How many seconds could you endure being in a world without sound, without light, and without any kind of sensation? A world where you don't even get hungry. Where you have no desires at all. Can you follow me? But death is a perfect void, so it exceeds even such a sensation-less world. There is no future. Heaven is just a construct people who fear death made up. You should know why there will always be people who believe in a world after death despite the advent of science; it's because they are scared. Scared of what waits beyond death. So, don't think ending your own life will save you! It simply ends. It E-N-D-S. Suicide is the act of killing yourself, and dying without comprehending the meaning of death is but escaping from reality. Although the result is the sam ~ Eiji Mikage

I ripped the pages out of the book.
I reversed the order, so the last one was first, and the first was last.
When I flipped through them, it looked like the man was floating up through the sky.
And if I'd had more pictures, he would've flown through a window, back into the building, and the smoke would've poured into the hole that the plane was about to come out of.
Dad would've left his messages backward, until the machine was empty, and the plane would've flown backward away from him, all the way to Boston.
He would've taken the elevator to the street and pressed the button for the top floor.
He would've walked backward to the subway, and the subway would've gone backward through the tunnel, back to our stop.
Dad would've gone backward through the turnstile, then swiped his Metrocard backward, then walked home backward as he read the New York Times from right to left.
He would've spit coffee into his mug, unbrushed his teeth, and put hair on his face with a razor.
He would've gotten back into bed, the alarm would've rung backward, he would've dreamt backward.
Then he would've gotten up again at the end of the night before the worst day.
He would've walked backward to my room, whistling 'I Am the Walrus' backward.
He would've gotten into bed with me.
We would've looked at the stars on my ceiling, which would've pulled back their light from our eyes.
I'd have said 'Nothing' backward.
He'd have said 'Ye ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

As God loves me, when I consider this, then every modern society seems to me to be nothing but a conspiracy of the rick, who while protesting their interest in the common good pursue their own interests and stop at no trick and deception to secure their ill-gotten possessions, to pay as little as possible for the labor that produces their wealth and so force its makers to accept the nearest thing to nothing. They contrive rules for securing and assuring these tidy profits for the rich in the name of the common good, including of course the poor, and call them laws! ~ Thomas More

I want my world to be fun. No parents, no rules, no nothing. Like, no one can stop me. No one can stop me. ~ Justin Bieber

Times change, Selena. Believe me, I know, and sometimes there's nothing you can do about it except to let it go. No matter how much you want to stop time, it has
to go forward and move on to something else. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon