She Like My Little Sister Quotes

In other words, you'll pretend to be someone else in order to snag a husband."
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said defensively, "it's no different than what half the women in society do to catch a man. I don't want to waste my time in pointless flirtation when a little knowledge will improve my aim on the targets."
He flashed her a condescending smile.
"What is it?" she snapped.
"Only you would approach courtship as a marksman approaches a shooting match." He licked the tip of his pencil. "So who are these hapless targets?"
"The Earl of Devonmont, the Duke of Lyons, and Fernandez Valdez, the Viscount de Basto."
His jaw dropped. "Are you insane?"
"I know they're rather beyond my reach, but they seem to like my company-"
"I daresay they do!" He strode up to her, strangely angry. "The earl is a rakehell with a notorious reputation for trying to get beneath the skirts of every woman he meets. The duke's father was mad, and it's said to run in his family, which is why most women steer clear of him. And Basto is a Portuguese idiot who's too old for you and clearly trawling for some sweet young thing to nurse him in his declining years."
"How can you say such things? The only one you know personally is Lord Devonmont, and you barely know even him."
"I don't have to. Their reputations tell me they're utterly unacceptable."
Unacceptable? Three of the most eligible bachelors in London? Mr. Pinter was mad, not her. "Lord Devonmont is ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I think back to our fearsome disaster of a night together, with the Old Yeller and the awkward and her pretty much jumping me in an alley. And then her pretty much jumping me in the car. Me pretty much wanting to jump out of my whole existence. And suddenly, I feel really grateful for that whole crazy-ass experience. I'm not sure where I'd be if it hadn't happened, but … chances are it wouldn't be here. It's not like I know where stuff's going to go from this point. Probably more difficult, scary, confusing, stressful-as-all places. But I've got a crazy old bastard trying to force-feed me citrus in the name of my own health, and that? That's not something I'd trade.

"Thanks, Cora," I say.

"Yeah," she replies, with this little smile that's almost gentle, "sure. ~ Hannah Johnson

Seventy-six years old," she whispers, "and I can still feel like this? Like a little girl with stars in my eyes? ~ Anthony Doerr

You see her as this broken little thing that needs you to take care of her. She doesn't need that. She might have been broken at one time, but she's not fucking broken now. She's put it all back together. She's made a life for herself, and you're trying to change it. It's kind of like she's built this fortress around herself, brick by fucking brick, and you might think a fortress is too much, but it's not. Do you know why?"
I can only sit and stare at him.
"Do you want to know why?" he asks.
I nod. My heart is in my fucking throat.
"Because she fucking lives there, Paul. It's home for her. It's safe and it's secure and it's hers. And she built it with her own two hands. So for you to swoop in and not only try to move her out of her fortress but also to tear it down, you're fucking up everything she's worked for. ~ Tammy Falkner

I heard a thunk that sounded like Lend's head against the door. "This is stupid. Let my dad take care of it. He's been contacting everyone he knows who is still with IPCA, and - "
I walked over and put my own head against the door, pretending there wasn't anything between us. "And it doesn't matter. IPCA isn't the same. There are new people in charge, and they aren't messing around. I can help her. Raquel would do the same for me. She has done the same for me."
"I don't see what good it's going to do for you to waltz back in there and - "
"Can I tango back in there, instead? So much sexier than the waltz."
"Evie, I'm serious! You just broke out of IPCA! You're going to get tased and tagged again."
"I really doubt it. Faerie backup, remember?" I went to the window and looked down into the yard, where Reth stood in the midst of the dead brown grass, looking like a god of spring and sunshine who had seriously lost his way. He was staring straight up at me, although how he knew I'd look straight down that instant I had no idea. Creeper.
I shivered a little, still not breaking eye contact with Reth. I was in over my head, I knew that, and I knew I'd owe him even more after this. I had no doubt I'd pay in a way I really didn't want to, and soon.
The door shook as Lend kicked it. "Pretty much the only idea I like less than you walking back into IPCA is you walking back into IPCA with only Jack and Reth for protection."
"They owe me."
"Tru ~ Kiersten White

My mom's a doctor, but because she came from India and then Africa, where childhood obesity was not a problem, she put no premium on having skinny kids. In fact, she and my dad didn't mind having a chubby daughter. Part of me wonders if it even made them feel a little prosperous, like Have you seen our overweight Indian child? Do you know how statistically rare this is? ~ Mindy Kaling

Eva seemed to be on some sort of mission to work her evil/cute baby magic on me. Ever since she'd started toddling around on those chubby little legs, she'd been targeting me, the least enthusiastic baby person in the room. I think she enjoyed the challenge, which proved that we were related.
Eva would tug on my pants leg until I picked her up. And then she'd basically stare me down with those big blue-grey eyes of hers, daring me not to snuggle her. It was like facing down a tiny, diapered mastermind.
And of course, I caved. I snuggled her. I babbled. I read her Where the Wild Things Are until I was hoarse. I actually found myself watching my language. Shudder. ~ Molly Harper

So look," he began, leaning over the desk, "I was - "
"Excuse me?" Bethany said. Her voice was loud, even.
Wes turned and looked at her. As he did so, I watched his profile, his arm, that little bit of the heart in
hand peeking out from his sleeve.
"We can help you over here," Bethany said to him. "Did you have a question?"
"Um, sort of," Wes said, glancing at me, a mild smile on his face. "But - "
"I can answer it," Bethany said solidly, so confidently. Amanda, beside her, nodded, seconding this.
"Really, it's fine," he said, then looked at me again. He raised his eyebrows, and I just shrugged. "Okay,
so - "
"She's only a trainee, she won't know the answer," Bethany told him, pushing her chair over closer to
where he was, her voice too loud, bossy even. "It's better if you ask me. Or ask us."
Then, and only then, did I see the tiniest flicker of annoyance on Wes's face. "You know," Wes said, "I
think she'll know it."
"She won't. Ask me."
Now it wasn't just a flicker. Wes looked at me, narrowing his eyes, and for a second I just stared back.
Whatever happens, I thought, happens. For the first time, time at the info desk was flying.
"Okay," he said slowly, moving down the counter. He leaned on his elbows, closer to Bethany, and she
sat up even straighter, readying herself, like someone onJeopardy awaiting the Daily Double. "So here's
my question."
Amanda picked up a pen, as if there ~ Sarah Dessen

I worry about you. Not just about your safety. I worry when you're stressed. I worry when you're unhappy."

His words leveled her world.

Her eyes snapped open and she saw him - saw him in a way that would stay with her forever.

"I fucking worry about you not eating breakfast. I worry about every damn little thing about you. I worry about you like I've never worried about anything in my life. Because I care. I fucking care, Charlize. I care so much it makes me scared. I don't think you're incapable of looking after yourself - I just can't help needing to make everything okay. ~ Amber A. Bardan

You're not beneath me. I'd never think that."

Yes, you are beneath her, he reminded himself, bracing against the forbidden bliss coursing through his veins. And don't dare imagine you'll ever be atop her. Or curled behind her. Or buried deep inside her while she -

Bloody hell. The fact that he could even think such a thing. He was crude, disgusting. So undeserving of even this slight caress. Her gesture was made out of guilt, offered in apology. If he took advantage, he would be a devil.

He knew all this.

But he flexed his arms anyway, drawing her close.

"You're worried you've hurt my feelings," he murmured.

She nodded, just a little.

"I don't have those."

"I forgot."

Amazing. He marveled at her foolishness. After all he'd said to her, she would worry about him? Within this small, slight woman lived so much untapped affection, she couldn't help but squander it on music pupils and mongrel dogs and undeserving brutes. What was it like, he wondered, to live with that bright, glowing star in her chest? How did she survive it?

If he kissed her deeply enough and held her tight - would some of its warmth transfer to him? ~ Tessa Dare

She realized that a child's mind is like a shallow brook which ripples and dances merrily over the stony course of its education and reflects here a flower, there a bush, yonder a fleecy cloud; and she attempted to guide my mind on its way, knowing that like a brook it should be fed by mountain streams and hidden springs until it broadened out into a deep river, capable of reflecting in its placid surface, billowy hills, the luminous shadows of trees and the blue heavens, as well as the sweet face of a little flower. ~ Helen Keller

You want us to hunt down and extract information from the officer?"
She shook her head. "Something better."
"Pray tell, little ghost."
"Send me in her place."
He stared.
Kestrel said, "I'll pretend to be her."
"Please understand. When I look at you as if you're crazy, it's not that I judge you for your insanity."
"I fit in her armor. I'm her size. I'm Valorian."
"You don't look like her. Just because you're Valorian doesn't mean the officer at the relay station won't notice that you're a completely different person."
"It's night. I can report to the officer while keeping my distance."
"I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when you're sane. ~ Marie Rutkoski

You're ... very resilient, for someone who's dead." Her voice was a little steadier.
"And I think you're far stronger than any of us were prepared to give you credit for." I kept shooting my mouth off like an idiot, telling her things I'd been ordered not to, and she kept going with it. I was impressed, honestly. ~ Lia Habel

Sometimes, as Eve was born from one of Adam's ribs, a woman was born during my sleep from a cramped position of my thigh. Formed from the pleasure I was on the point of enjoying, she, I imagined, was the one offering it to me. My body, which felt in hers my own warmth, would try to find itself inside her, I would wake up. The rest of humanity seemed very remote compared to this woman I had left scarcely a few moments before; my cheek was still warm from her kiss, my body aching from the weight of hers. If, as sometimes happens, she had the features of a woman I had known in life, I would devote myself entirely to this end: to finding her again, like those who go off on a journey to see a longed-for city with their own eyes and imagine that one can enjoy in reality the charm of a dream. Little by little, the memory of her would fade, I had forgotten the girl of my dream. ~ Marcel Proust

Dear old Jane is a jewel," agreed Anne, "but," she added, leaning forward to bestow a tender pat on the plump, dimpled little hand hanging over her pillow, "there's nobody like my own Diana after all. Do you remember that evening we first met, Diana, and 'swore' eternal friendship in your garden? We've kept that 'oath,' I think…we've never had a quarrel nor even a coolness. I shall never forget the thrill that went over me the day you told me you loved me. I had had such a lonely, starved heart all through my childhood. I'm just beginning to realize how starved and lonely it really was. Nobody cared anything for me or wanted to be bothered with me. I should have been miserable if it hadn't been for that strange little dreamlife of mine, wherein I imagined all the friends and love I craved. But when I came to Green Gables everything was changed. And then I met you. You don't know what your friendship meant to me. I want to thank you here and now, dear, for the warm and true affection you've always given me. ~ L.M. Montgomery

My mom was concerned that us four little black girls have a really well-balanced life. She wanted us to be around people like us, but we also went to private school and traveled all the time. Now I fit in most places because I've been most places. ~ Kelis

The scent of the leather and the feel of the cold steel transported her back in time. "But Daddy, why can't I have a sword and a scabbard? Dillon and Tynan have one and look, I can lift it above my head, too." Kylah chuckled because she hadn't lifted it above her head; she'd barely lifted the broadsword off the floor. But Cearnach was always supportive. He'd told her, "Someday, little one… someday you will be a great warrior just like your brothers. ~ Brynn Myers

A Party for New Year (for Lily and Maisie, the ladies what lunch.)

Dear Lily,
I have bought something frilly,
to wear on New Year's Eve.
You may think it sounds rather silly,
and, what I tell you, you will never believe.

I met a woman in Primark, I know,
not my normal shop.
Just heard so much about it
inside I had to pop.

Well, the top I purchased, sparkles.
The frills upon it abound.
This woman I met in the changing room.
On me, she said it looked sound.

It's very, very silver you know.
A little bit like Lametta.
Oh Lily, I feel quite aglow.
On no one could it look any better.

Dear Maisie,
Things are looking a bit hazy.
A silver top, for New Year.
Are you really, really that crazy?
My word, you batty old dear.

I'm wearing my old faithful.
The black dress, with the gold trim.
It's not like we're doing anything special.
In fact proceedings sound quite grim.

Sitting on your old sofa
With a Baileys, if I'm lucky.
Watching the same old things on the box.
I'm not excited Ducky.

I want to be in the city
and feel the atmosphere.
It really is a pity
that you want to stay right here.

Dear Lily.
Now you are being silly.
What about your knees?
Standing about, feeling chilly,
and moaning you're going to freeze.

Much better to stay ~ Ann Perry

Traffic crawls
Cell phone calls
Talk radio screams at me
But through my tinted window
I see a little girl
Rust red minivan
She's got chocolate on her face
Got little hands and she waves at me
Yeah, she smiles at me
Well hello world
How you been
Good to see you my old friend
Sometimes I feel
Cold as steel
Broken like I'm never gonna heal
And I see a light
A little hope
In a little girl
Hello world ~ Lady Antebellum

It's been great having my little girl. It's like having a workout 24 hours a day. I don't need to go to the gym! I'm chasing after my daughter everywhere she goes. ~ Cam Gigandet

And if I get a little chemically imbalanced in the head, like we all know I tend to get sometimes, and I don't want my parents or brother knowing, Will's like, 'We'll deal with it.' He's never said, 'I'll fix it up.' He just says, 'You're not up to going back to uni to finish your Honours this year? Big deal. There's next year. We'll deal with it.'" She nods. "That's what he does well. ~ Melina Marchetta

When sushi-suit girl calls up entrants to show off their costumes, Cole manages to pull Wallace out of his seat to stand awkwardly out there, but I refuse when my name is called.

"It's just for a second," Cole says, motioning me out with his hands. "Come on. Just a second."

"I don't . . . I don't really want to."

Wallace gently pushes Cole out of the way so he can get back to his seat and grab his phone.

If she doesn't want to, don't make her do it.

Cole sighs so overdramatically he must be joking, then turns to tell sushi girl I won't be participating after all. A few more people from other groups around the room go up. There's a panel of teenaged judges stationed behind one short bookcase like it's a desk, and at the very end they get together to deliberate before they announce one of the Hogwarts students as the winner.

"Oh, come on!" Cole cries. "The Harry Potter people always win! They've had like twelve years to put their costumes together!"

"I've done my waiting," Megan says to Hazel, pulling up the little girl's arms. "Twelve years of it! In Azkaban! ~ Francesca Zappia

I was ten years old. I had noticed something was weird earlier in the day but I knew from commercials that one's menstrual period was a blue liquid that you poured like laundry detergent onto maxi pads to test their absorbency. This wasn't blue so ... I ignored it for a few hours.
When we got home I pulled my mom aside to ask if it was weird I was bleeding in my underpants. She was very sympathetic but also a little baffled. Her eyes said "Dummy didn't you read 'How Shall I Tell My Daughter ". I HAD read it but nowhere in the pamphlet did anyone say that your period was NOT a blue liquid.
At that moment two things became clear to me I was now technically a woman and I would never be a doctor. ~ Tina Fey

The memories come back
like the rainbow after the rain
with all the hues and shades of color
and an unending train
the bougainvillea tree nearby my parents house where I grew up
did not ask me my name
she embraced me as she had done
in my schooldays in every way the same
the little squirrel just now
tip-toed down the lane
looking at the spectacle
unfolding in the rain
after all these years
I have come back to my parents home
the clouds have different shapes
but the air smells the same ... ~ Avijeet Das

Now that we've settled that," Rhys drawled from behind me, "can we please eat? I'm famished." Amren opened her mouth with a wry smile, but he added, "Do not say what you were going to say, Amren." Rhys gave Cassian a sharp look. Both of them were still bruised - but healing fast. "Unless you want to have it out on the roof."

Amren clicked her tongue and instead jerked her chin at me. "I heard you grew fangs in the forest and killed some Hybern beasts. Good for you, girl."

"She saved his sorry ass is more like it," Mor said, filling her glass of wine. "Poor little Rhys got himself in a bind."

I held out my own glass for Mor to fill. "He does need unusual amounts of coddling."

Azriel choked on his wine, and I met his gaze - warm for once. Soft, even. I felt Rhys tense beside me and quickly looked away from the spymaster ~ Sarah J. Maas

But sometimes, very occasionally, songs and books and films and pictures express who you are perfectly. And they don't do this in words or images, necessarily; the connection is a lot less direct and more complicated than that. When I was first beginning to write seriously, I read Anne Tyler's Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant, and suddenly knew what I was, and what I wanted to be, for better or worse. It's a process something like falling in love. You don't necessarily choose the best person, or the wisest, or the most beautiful; there's something else going on. There was a part of me that would rather have fallen for Updike or Kerouac, or DeLillo – for someone masculine, or at least, maybe somebody a little more opaque, and certainly someone who uses more swearwords- and, though I have admired those writers, at various stages in my life, admiration is a very different thing from the kind of transference I'm talking about. I'm talking about understanding – or at least feeling like I understand- every artistic decision, every impulse, the soul of both the work and its creator. "This is me," I wanted to say when I read Tyler's rich, sad, lovely novel. "I'm not a character, I'm nothing like the author, I haven't had the experiences she writes about. But even so, this is what I feel like, inside. This is what I would sound like, if I ever I were to find a voice." And I did find a voice, eventually, and it was mine, not hers; but nevertheless, so powerful was the process of ident ~ Nick Hornby

Come see my mommy, Becky!" Will said and Bree stopped in her tracks. "Oh hell no!" she exclaimed staring at 'Becky'. Rebecca, the bane of Bree's existence. The blonde woman smiled mockingly at Bree. "How ya doing?" "What?" Bree asked but the question was directed at her brother and not the skank in front of her. "So how was Paris?" Rebecca asked moving right past Bree to practically press her body against Alessandro. "Seriously, what?" Bree demanded, glaring at Brian. "Hey, Alessandro. Great to see you again." "Stop talking. Stop talking now before I ram your botoxed head through this table!" Bree hissed lunging at her. Brian grabbed her quickly and held her back. "Sorry. Bree's a little bit touchy about that whole Vegas thing I guess. But hey, looks like it all worked for the best, huh?" Rebecca winked at Alessandro ~ E. Jamie

Patient stated that she felt like a burden to loved ones" - much later, when I read the notes from the emergency room, I did not have any recollection of the conversation. 'A burden to loved ones': this language must have been provided to me. I would never use the phrase in my thinking or writing. But my resistance has little to do with avoiding a platitude. To say a burden is to grant oneself weight in other people's lives: to call them loved ones is to fake one's ability to love. One does not always want to subject oneself to self-interrogation imposed by a cliché. ~ Yiyun Li

What do you need that for?" he asks about the Jack Daniel's. "We might have to hit her over the head." "Why are you smiling?" "Because this is a happy time," I tell him honestly, even after I push aside the image of knocking Shannon unconscious with a bottle of JD. "This is fun. This is good. When this is all over, we're going to have a baby." He doesn't look all that convinced, but he trots after me as we take our equipment into Shannon's room. She's sitting propped up on the bed with every pillow in my house behind her, blowing out air like a stalled locomotive. "You're going to ruin my pillows," I moan. "I'll buy you new pillows," she spits at me. "I'll buy you a new bed. I'll buy you a new fucking house." "Watch your language," I tell her. "There's a little kid here." "You think I care about a fucking little kid? Why is there a little kid here?" "Can we hit her yet?" Kenny asks. "Not yet." Fanci ~ Tawni O'Dell

For the record," she continued, "it's not my fault I came in here looking like Chesty LaRue. You caught me on laundry day, so I have no undergarments on. Though I will cop to a little extra spring in my step for your benefit. ~ Kresley Cole

She had come to analysis because she was, as she put it, "ruining her children." ... "But you are so frustrating," she said. "I want you to take something away from me, and you keep giving it back." And what, I asked, was that "something" she wanted to give away? "The pain. The crazy," she said. She said there was a little shrine, somewhere in the north of Brazil. The land was dry, the town impossibly poor, but people would travel for hundreds of miles to get there, to leave candles, gifts, and ex- voto offerings thanking the saint for answered prayers, for healing, for having rescued them from distress. "I bring you my worries. I bring you my tears. I bring you the dreams I have. I want to leave them here. I want to hang them on your wall and return home healed. But everything I give to you, you give back. You say, like you just said, 'What is this "something" you want to give away?' " Years later I looked it up, the shrine. There were many like the one my Brazilian patient had described. One of them was a kind of cave or grotto, where pilgrims would leave little body parts carved from wood or wax: a foot, a breast, a head. From time to time the priest collected the wax objects and melted them down, making candles to be sold to other pilgrims. The walls and ceiling of the shrine were black with candle smoke and crowded with these suspended offerings. I think now that my Brazilian patient managed at least to give that away, the conjured image of a blackened shrine, hung with ~ DeSales Harrison

I have one memory that catches in me like a nasty clump of blood. Marian was dead about two years, and my mother had a cluster of friends over for afternoon drinks. One of them brought a baby. For hours, the child was cooed over, smothered with red-lipstick kisses, tidied up with tissues, then lipstick smacked again. I was supposed to be reading in my room, but I sat at the top of the stairs watching.

My mother finally was handed the baby, and she cuddled it ferociously. Oh, how wonderful it is to hold a baby again! Adora jiggled it on her knee, walked it around the rooms, whispered to it, and I looked down from above like a spiteful little god, the back of my hand placed against my face, imagining how it felt to be cheek to cheek with my mother.

When the ladies went into the kitchen to help tidy up the dishes, something changed. I remember my mother, alone in the living room, staring at the baby almost lasciviously. She pressed her lips hard against the baby's apple slice of a cheek. Then she opened her mouth just slightly, took a tiny bit of flesh between her teeth, and gave it a little bite.

The baby wailed. The blotch faded as Adora snuggled the child, and told the other women it was just being fussy. I ran to Marian's room and got under the covers. ~ Gillian Flynn

But the moon was so large and clear through the uncurtained window that it made me think instead of a story my mother had told me, about driving to horse shows with her mother and father in the back seat of their old Buick when she was little. "It was a lot of travelling - ten hours sometimes through hard country. Ferris wheels, rodeo rings with sawdust, everything smelled like popcorn and horse manure. One night we were in San Antonio, and I was having a bit of a melt-down - wanting my own room, you know, my dog, my own bed - and Daddy lifted me up on the fairgrounds and told me to look at the moon. 'When you feel homesick,' he said, 'just look up. Because the moon is the same wherever you go.' So after he died, and I had to go to Aunt Bess - I mean, even now, in the city, when I see a full moon, it's like he's telling me not to look back or feel sad about things, that home is wherever I am." She kissed me on the nose. "Or where you are, puppy. The center of my earth is you. ~ Donna Tartt

Rapture

I can feel she has got out of bed.
That means it is seven a.m.
I have been lying with eyes shut,
thinking, or possibly dreaming,
of how she might look if, at breakfast,
I spoke about the hidden place in her
which, to me, is like a soprano's tremolo,
and right then, over toast and bramble jelly,
if such things are possible, she came.
I imagine she would show it while trying to conceal it.
I imagine her hair would fall about her face
and she would become apparently downcast,
as she does at a concert when she is moved.
The hypnopompic play passes, and I open my eyes
and there she is, next to the bed,
bending to a low drawer, picking over
various small smooth black, white,
and pink items of underwear. She bends
so low her back runs parallel to the earth,
but there is no sway in it, there is little burden, the day has hardly begun.
The two mounds of muscles for walking, leaping, lovemaking,
lift toward the east - what can I say?
Simile is useless; there is nothing like them on earth.
Her breasts fall full; the nipples
are deep pink in the glare shining up through the iron bars
of the gate under the earth where those who could not love
press, wanting to be born again.
I reach out and take her wrist
and she falls back into bed and at once starts unbuttoning my pajamas.
Later, when I open my eyes, there she is again,
~ Galway Kinnell