Perfect Girl Evolution Quotes

When you are with the people you like, you tend to be happier. ~ Tomoko Hayakawa

He had his one life. In June 1942 he went to Lazarevo holding it in his hands. By the shores of the Kama, he found her gorgeous and restored, and not just restored to her original shining brilliance but enlarged and clarified. Light reflected off her, no matter which way she turned. They ran down to the almighty river. She never even looked back. She would never know what it meant to him, an unremitting sinner, after all the unsacred things he had seen and done, to have her innocence. He held her to him. He had dreamed of it too long, touching her. Dreamed of seeing her naked too long, beautiful, bare, ready for him. He was afraid to hurt her. He had never been with an untouched girl before; he wasn't sure if he was supposed to do something first. In the end, he did nothing first, but she baptized him with her body. There was no Alexander anymore; the man he knew had died and was reborn inside a perfect heart, given to him straight from God, to him and for him. ~ Paullina Simons

I landed on my side, my hip taking the brunt of the fall. It burned and stung from the hit, but I ignored it and struggled to sit up quickly. There really was no point in hurrying so no one would see.
Everyone already saw
A pair of jean-clad legs appeared before me, and my suitcase and all my other stuff was dropped nearby.
"Whatcha doing down there?" Romeo drawled, his hands on his hips as he stared down at me with dancing blue eyes.
"Making a snow angel," I quipped. I glanced down at my hands, which were covered with wet snow and bits of salt (to keep the pavement from getting icy).
Clearly, ice wasn't required for me to fall.
A small group of girls just "happened by", and by that I mean they'd been staring at Romeo with puppy dog eyes and giving me the stink eye. When I fell, they took it as an opportunity to descend like buzzards stalking the dead. Their leader was the girl who approached me the very first day I'd worn Romeo's hoodie around campus and told me he'd get bored. As they stalked closer, looking like clones from the movie Mean Girls, I caught the calculating look in her eyes. This wasn't going to be good.
I pushed up off the ground so I wouldn't feel so vulnerable, but the new snow was slick and my hand slid right out from under me and I fell back again. Romeo was there immediately, the teasing light in his eyes gone as he slid his hand around my back and started to pull me up. "Careful, babe." he said gently.
The girls ~ Cambria Hebert

He came toward us, looking worried. As the birth grew closer, we had both been edgy; Frank irritable and myself terrified, having no idea what might happen between us, with the appearance of Jamie Fraser's child. But when the nurse had taken Brianna from her bassinet and handed her to Frank, with the words "Here's Daddy's little girl," his face had grown blank, and then - looking down at the tiny face, perfect as a rosebud - gone soft with wonder. Within a week, he had been hers, body and soul. ~ Diana Gabaldon

We're going to be matchmakers and find the perfect girl for Barrett."
"I already told them that every girl is perfect, and that's the problem--cant pick just one."
"You're full of shit," Taylor waved him off. "All right, first of all--do you prefer brunette, blonde, ginger, or bald?"
"Yes," Barrett said confidently.
"Which one?" Taylor asked.
"All of them."
"Even bald?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Could be sexy. ~ Tess Oliver

Have you met my new dancer?"
The girl approached and he was able to dink in the sigh of her with a slackened jaw. Her short, icy-blonde hair wisped around her face, drawing him in to her deep brown eyes. Her brows had a strong arch to them that made her look as though she was either intrigued or annoyed. Beau didn't care so long as she was looking at him. He liked his lips absently, letting his gaze sweep over her face for a moment more. He couldn't stop his brain from picturing her smearing the shimmering pink gloss from her perfect mouth all over his body. Leaving her mark. He cursed in his thoughts again. Who the hell was this girl and what was she doing to him?
He cleared his throat and extended his hand toward her coolly. "Beau Harris, nice to meet you," he said.
The corner of the young woman's mouth twitched and she took his hand before her eyes darted to Vanessa.
"Beau!" Vanessa barked. He glanced at her and reluctantly dropped the dancer's hand. He looked between the two woman for a moment and tried to keep his gaze up and off the stranger's tight, tanned stomach.
"What?" He bit back.
Vanessa huffed and a cackled cracked out of her throat. "You losing eyesight in your old age? That's Whitney. My little sister," she said, drawing out her words out like he was an idiot. ~ Kate Roth

Is your future faery bride too ugly for you?"
Rhys leaned back against the head rest and studied the seat
back in front of him. "That's not it."
"Too old or too young?"
"No."
I rolled my eyes, but smiled. This was why he was upset. He
hadn't landed the perfect bride-to-be. "Her pretty faery wings
aren't the right shade of sparkly lavender and pink?"
His eyes flashed with anger. "Actually, she doesn't have faery
wings."
"She doesn't?"
"No. As a matter of fact, the dragon oracle tells me the girl I'm
supposed to marry, the one destined to someday become the queen
of the faery realm, isn't a faery at all."
Okay, that was surprising. Not a faery?
"She isn't?" I said. "Then who is she?"
His expression was severe as he turned to look me right in the
eye.
"You," he said ~ Michelle Rowen

I'm not the perfect girl but I am worth your time I am a girl who will care, love, and hold u no matter what ... I can be anything u want me 2 be I will change everything just to have a chance with u because how could someone like me get a guy like u ~ Sereana Crowley

He slipped his hands around my waist and pulled me against him, tossing the ice cream cone over his shoulder. It landed with a splat on the sidewalk. "So does that mean I have a varsity girlfriend?"
I giggled like a total girl and linked my hands behind his neck. "Yeah I guess it does."
"Sweet." Then he bent his head, and I stood up on my tiptoes and we met in the middle. And it was perfect. ~ Stephie Davis

I'm so honored to be on this recording with Ann & Nancy Wilson. They are iconic and I've truly been one of their biggest fans since I was a kid. And what a perfect song to sing with them, since I adore Vince Gill and have been very proud for his commitment to his own musical vision. When we were recording at Nancy's house, and even though I'm friends with those girls now, I had to keep 'pinching' myself and marvel at how blessed my life is! It was a very PROUD moment for me. ~ Deana Carter

Those clothes are Susie's,' my father said calmly when he reached him.
Buckley looked down at my blackwatch dress that he held in his hand.
My father stepped closer, took the dress from my brother, and then, without speaking, he gathered the rest of my clothes, which Buckley had piled on the lawn. As he turned in silence toward the house, hardly breathing, clutching my clothes to him, it sparked.
I was the only one to see the colors. Just near Buckley's ears and on the tips of his cheeks and chin he was a little orange somehow, a little red.
Why can't I use them?' he asked.
It landed in my father's back like a fist.
Why can't I use those clothes to stake my tomatoes?'
My father turned around. He saw his son standing there, behind him the perfect plot of muddy, churned-up earth spotted with tiny seedlings. 'How can you ask me that question?'
You have to choose. It's not fair,' my brother said.
Buck?' My father held my clothes against his chest.
I watched Buckley flare and light. Behind him was the sun of the goldenrod hedge, twice as tall as it had been at my death.
I'm tired of it!' Buckley blared. 'Keesha's dad died and she's okay?'
Is Keesha a girl at school?'
Yes!'
My father was frozen. He could feel the dew that had gathered on his bare ankles and feet, could feel the ground underneath him, cold and moist and stirring with possibility.
I'm sorry. When did this happen?'
That's not the point, Da ~ Alice Sebold

can't see her in the dark, but I know she's looking at me when she says, "I know you've been kind of weird about Ryan and that's why we didn't use him for Mr. Vernon's going-away party, but, Becs, you have to admit he'd be completely perfect for this. He has the hair and the accent and the guitar. The girls will totally eat him up." She's so right, but aaaaaaah. I'm way too embarrassed around Ryan. I mean, at least I learned my lesson and I'm not throwing myself at him anymore. No more bike crashes for me. The other day, he and Lance were in the line ahead of me, Sades, and Izzy at mini golf and when Lance asked us to join them, I was the one to say they should just go ahead so we could have girl time. I could tell Ryan was, like, ubershocked. His eyebrows were ~ Jen Malone

Gay men are perfect men for girls who are tough. They're not threatened by strong women, and they're usually very in touch with their feelings and pay attention to details. I've always had an affinity with gay men. ~ Madonna Ciccone

I think he painted the way he did," I answered, "because he had something perfect with Diana."
I braced myself for her next scathing insight and nearly fell over when she reached out to pat my hand. Her wedding ring was a heavy,hammered gold band that could probably pound nails.
"Nothing but the occasional espresso is perfect," she said, not unkindly. "Let me share some wisdom, Willing Girl. Relationships are like Whack-a-Mole. You squash one annoying deformity and another one pops up in no time."
Not your classic sentiment, there. Or a particularly heartening one. It seemed well meant, though, so I figured it might be a good time to inform her, "Um, my name....is Ella. Marino."
"Oh,I know who you are, Miss Marino," she shot back. "Shall I mention again that the Willing Foundation doesn't?"
"No,Dr. Rothaus," I said meekly. "No need."
"Excellent." Dr. Rothaus headed for the door. "You may call me Maxine. Good luck finding something I haven't. And don't cry on the materials. ~ Melissa Jensen

You," I said, "have this whole tall, dark stranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit."
"Bit?"
"You know what I mean."
He shook his head, clearly discounting this description. "And you," he said, "have that whole blonde, cool and collected, perfect smart girl thing going on."
"You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with," I said.
"You," he replied, "are the unattainable girl in the homeroom who never gives a guy the time of the day."
There was a blast of music from inside, a thump of bass beat, then quiet again.
"I'm not perfect," I said. "Not even close."
"I'm not tortured. Unless you count this conversation. ~ Sarah Dessen

I'm shaking my head, unable to get it through my mind that this girl is willingly mine and she's perfect and beautiful and good and, holy shit, I love her so much. ~ Colleen Hoover

Why doesn't he say something to her?
But I knew why. Because there's the creeping fear that these moments don't actually exist outside your own head. No eyes meet across a crowded room, no two people thing precisely the same thing, and if only one person actually has that moment, is it even really a moment at all?
We know this, so we say nothing. We avert our eyes, or pretend to be looking for change, we hope the other person will take the initiative, because we don't want to risk losing this feeling of excitement and possibilities and lust. It's too perfect. That little second of hope is worth something, possibly for ever, as we lie on out deathbeds, surrounded by our children, and our grandchildren and our great-grandchildren, and we can't help but quickly give on last selfish, dying thought to what could have happened if we'd actually said hello to that girl in the Uggs selling CDs outside Nando's seventy-four years earlier. ~ Danny Wallace

And thus they form a perfect group; he walks back two or three paces, selects his point of sight, and begins to sketch a hurried outline. He has finished it before they move; he hears their voices, though he cannot hear their words, and wonders what they can be talking of. Presently he walks on, and joins them.
'You have a corpse there, my friends?' he says.
'Yes; a corpse washed ashore an hour ago.'
'Drowned?'
'Yes, drowned; - a young girl, very handsome.'
'Suicides are always handsome,' he says; and then he stands for a little while idly smoking and meditating, looking at the sharp outline of the corpse and the stiff folds of the rough canvas covering.
Life is such a golden holiday to him young, ambitious, clever - that it seems as though sorrow and death could have no part in his destiny. ("The Cold Embrace") ~ Mary Elizabeth Braddon

So I buy it. The most perfect little cardigan in the world. People will call me the Girl in the Gray Cardigan. I'll be able to live in it. Really, it's an investment. ~ Sophie Kinsella

Girl, you are the epitome of spoiled. I can smell it in your expensive perfume, in the quality of your ridiculous clothing, in the bracelet wrapped 'round that delicate wrist." He closed the gap between us and all the air sucked from the room. "You won't last out here. You'll stay blind to the environment that surrounds you. You'll live in your clean, perfect bubble and return to your posh life come six months. You are ... you. I know your kind. I've seen it all before. You will never wake up. Not really," he explained away before backing up and leaving me to my room once again. ~ Fisher Amelie

The Americans fished on, not hoping for much anymore, perhaps for a miracle, searching for small things to be happy about, because they were Americans and this was what their upbringings had taught them to do. They found a brief happiness, for example, in the potato chips that came to their rooms on expensive china and in the genuinely hopeful way the hotel girl asked if they'd had any luck. They took pleasure in their morning calls to the Lufthansa man, his wriggly explanations for the canceled flights to Norway. They smiled at the way a church had been built so the setting sun hit it high and perfect and orange, and the way they could follow the river to a park where miniskirted women lay in the grass with headphones clamped over their ears, and even at the way the little student-girls came filing down at noon behind their English-teaching beauty to call them fools. ~ Anthony Doerr

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

Women want to see the truth. They don't want to see some perfect girl. ~ Reese Witherspoon

Eleanor Roosevelt's very helpful to a lot of children who cannot speak French, who do not write well. And Marie Souvestre is fierce. She tears up students' papers that are not, you know, perfect. And Eleanor Roosevelt goes around, again, being incredibly helpful to children in need, children in trouble. And her best friends are the naughtiest girls who are in trouble. And she is a leader. And she is encouraged to be a leader. And everybody falls in love with her. She's a star. ~ Blanche Wiesen Cook

Real girls aren't perfect, and perfect girls aren't real ~ Courtney Love

I bite my lip as I begin reading: She needs some sun! Her eyes are hard to see - they're too dark; her nose is thin; no cheek bones!; I think her lips are uneven; her chin is really square, and my favorite: is that a mole or a zit? Awesome. Twenty pages of these cryptic remarks sure do make a girl feel good about herself. The last page changes my sour mood completely. On it there is a sketch of my face - no, sketch is the wrong word. It's too common a word. This is more than a sketch. This is a portrait of my face. The image of the girl staring back at me is so stunning, that I actually gasp. The handwriting on the bottom of the page, which is small and elegant, holds only two words: You're perfect. ~ Danielle Bannister

Why could nothing with Kate be simple? Why couldn't Jim ever just come by to tell me that he had bowled a perfect game or benched a personal best.
Maybe finally asked that weird tiger girl out. ~ Ilona Andrews

Holiday? Is like, what? I'm a hyperactive girl, so it may be boring for me to be on the beach doing nothing. I just need to find a place for three weeks and work but sleep in the morning, maybe write a little bit, have a glass of red wine. That's my perfect holiday. ~ Melanie Laurent

Two seconds later, the sound of an alarm filled my ears.
'What did you do?' I said over the noise as he backed up towards the bathroom door.
'The girl who gave you the note?'
'Yes ... '
'I caught her staring at my lighter.'
I blinked. 'You gave a child, in a psych ward , a lighter?'
His eyes crinkled at the corners. 'She seemed trustworthy.'
'You're sick,' I said, but smiled.
'Hey, nobody's perfect. ' Noah smiled back. ~ Michelle Hodkin

"Watching my back? Like you watched Chloe's with those gangbangers?"
"That was a mistake. I was running and I thought she was right behind me."
"Did you check?"
"What?"
"Did you check?" he repeated. "One glance over your shoulder to make sure she was still there?"
I didn't answer.
He shook his head. "I'm not accusing you of letting that girl grab Chloe so you could get away. I'm not accusing you of seeing her in trouble and deciding to do nothing about it. I know you didn't look back. You never thought of it."
"I was scared, okay? You want me to admit that? Fine."
"Chloe would have looked back for you."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course she would. Because Chloe is good and perfect."
"No, because she thinks of others. I would have looked back, too, if you were behind me. Even Derek would have. Why? Because we're a team now. We need to have each other's backs. No matter what. ~ Kelley Armstrong

Excuse me," a breathy female voice came from beside her, and she lifted her head. A stunning blonde in a dress cut down to her belly button and up to her crotch hovered beside the table.
"Yes?" she asked, not certain whether to scream or laugh.
"Are you Richard Addison?" the woman breathed, ignoring Sam.
Rick blinked. "Oh, me. I thought you were talking to her. Yes, I am."
"Could I have your autograph?"
"Certainly. Do you have a pen?" The woman held out a napkin and a pen, and Rick signed his name. "There you go."
"How about your phone number?" The woman gave a low giggle, but pressed the napkin back into Rick's hand.
Sam would have stood, but Rick kicked her under the table. "Ouch," she grumbled, glaring at him.
"I'm sorry, but I don't give out my phone number."
"Are you sure?" Belly Button Girl licked her lips.
"If I might make a comment," Rick continued, granting her a warm smile, though Sam noted that his eyes remained cool and untouched, "I'm a bit occupied right now, enjoying the company of a very lovely young lady with whom I enjoy spending my every spare moment." He
straightened further, lowering his voice to a bare murmur. "So I thank you for your interest, but I am never in a million years going to give you my phone number. Good evening."
Her face turning scarlet under its inch of makeup, the woman turned away, departing with a sway of her perfect hips. "You're so cool," Sam breathed.
"You could at lea ~ Suzanne Enoch

Oh, shut up. He is not saying that he's too good-looking to be friends with girls. But then again, yesterday at the beach, there were a high percentage of beach beauties sitting very close to us and/or sauntering repeatedly past. And he never looked up once. I snort. You poor handsome thing. If only you were ugly, then girls wouldn't have to throw themselves at you all the time. I could break your perfect nose for you, if it'd make your life easier. ~ Kiersten White

To me, the perfect date consists of dinner, dancing, and sex with a girl who has no stomach or legs, but does have an overactive sex drive. ~ Jarod Kintz

My perfect girl would be pretty mad, but one you can have a conversation with. No one can be too mad for me, the madder the better. I love a crazy chick! ~ Lee Ryan

I know I get crazy when it comes to you, but God knows I'm tryin', Pidge. I don't wanna screw this up."
"Then don't."
"This is hard for me, ya know. I feel like any second you're going to figure out what a piece of shit I am and leave me. When you were dancing last night, I saw a dozen different guys watching you. You go to the bar, and I see you thank that guy for your drink. Then that douchebag on the dance floor grabs you."
"You don't see me throwing punches every time a girl talks to you. I can't stay locked up in the apartment all the time. You're going to have to get a handle on your temper."
"I will. I've never wanted a girlfriend before, Pigeon. I'm not used to feeling this way about someone…about anyone. If you'll be patient with me, I swear I'll get it figured out."
"Let's get something straight; you're not a piece of shit, you're amazing. It doesn't matter who buys me drinks, or who asks me to dance, or who flirts with me. I'm going home with you. You've asked me to trust you, and you don't seem to trust me."
He frowned. "That's not true."
"If you think I'm going to leave you for the next guy that comes along, then you don't have much faith in me."
He tightened his grip. "I'm not good enough for you, Pidge. That doesn't mean I don't trust you, I'm just bracing for the inevitable."
"Don't say that. When we're alone, you're perfect. We're perfect. But then you let everyone else ruin it. I don't expect a one-eighty, but you ~ Jamie McGuire

I told my mom, 'I'm not buying another magazine until I can get past this thought of looking like the girl on the cover'. She said, Miley, you are the girl on the cover,' and I was, like, 'I know, but I don't feel like that girl every day.' You can't always feel perfect. ~ Miley Cyrus

Well, look. You're the kid sister, but you always had a good, clear image of what you wanted for yourself. You were able to say no when you had to, and you did things at your own pace. But Eri Asai couldn't do that. From the time she was a little girl, her job was to play her assigned role and satisfy the people around her. She worked hard to be a perfect little Snow White - if I can borrow your name for her. It's true that everybody made a big fuss over her, but I'll bet that was really tough for her sometimes. At one of the most crucial points in her life, she didn't have a chance to establish a firm self. If 'complex' is too strong a word, let's just say she probably envied you."
Excerpt From: Haruki Murakami. "After Dark." iBooks. ~ Haruki Murakami

Dear Karen,

I've been thinking about Us, the story of us. How the fuck do I sum it up? Has it been perfect? Hardly. Any story with me at the center of it will never be anything less than a big smiling mess. But here's what I know for sure - our time in the sun has been a thing of absolute fucking beauty. The nightmares, the hangovers, the fucking and the punching. The gorgeous shimmering insanity of the city of ours. Where for years I woke up, fucked up, said I was sorry, passed out and did it all over again.

As a writer, I'm a sucker for happy endings. The guy gets the girl, she saves him from himself, fade to fucking black. As a guy who loves a girl, I realize there's no such thing. There's no sunset. There's just now, and there's just the two of us, which can be scary fucking ugly sometimes. But if you close your eyes and listen for the whisper of your heart - if you simply keep trying and never ever give up, no matter how many times you get it wrong, until the beginning and the end blur into something called until we meet again -- and that's it.

I didn't know how to finish it, because it's not over. It'll never be over, as longs as there's you, and there's me, and there's hope, and grace. ~ Hank Moody

You may not mean to, but you do seem to look down your nose at many of us mere mortals muddling along down here. I feel as though you think everyone should be better than they are. I certainly think you expect me to behave like some sort of perfect princess. But I'm just an ordinary girl who wants to grow up and find out where I belong in the world. ~ Emily Arden

If you say, 'I really love this girl except for this one thing--if I could just change this one thing, then everything would be perfect,' then you've already lost her. ~ Michael Tucker

Mother, darling, don't yell at me. I can hear you beautifully," said the girl. ~ J.D. Salinger

Here you sit on your high-backed chair
Wonder how the view is from there
I wouldn't know 'cause I like to sit
Upon the floor, yeah upon the floor
If you like we could play a game
Let's pretend that we are the same
But you will have to look much closer
Than you do, closer than you do

And I'm far too tired to stay here anymore
And I don't care what you think anyway
'Cause I think you were wrong about me
Yeah what if you were, what if you were

And what if I'm a snowstorm burning
What if I'm a world unturning
What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep
What if I'm the kindest demon
Something you may not believe in
What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep

I know you've got it figured out
Tell me what I am all about
And I just might learn a thing or two
Hundred about you, maybe about you
I'm the end of your telescope
I don't change just to suit your vision
'Cause I am bound by a fraying rope
Around my hands, tied around my hands

And you close your eyes when I say I'm breaking free
And put your hands over both your ears
Because you cannot stand to believe I'm not
The perfect girl you thought
Well what have I got to lose

And what if I'm a weeping willow
Laughing tears upon my pillow
What if I'm a socialite who wants to be alone
What if I'm ~ Emilie Autumn