Someone Not Wanting You Around Quotes

It's easy to want to be an author. You see it in your mind with sun streaming through windows and a Siamese cat purring on an antique rug and a little pellet stove and somehow the bills are paid and there's wit and self-sufficiency and divine inspiration seeping through walls and pores. And then, in your mind, you skip ahead to a book launch party and more Siamese cats.

When you graduate from wanting to working, you say, "I am going to flesh out this idea and write the whole thing down, and rewrite it, and rewrite it again, and rewrite it unendingly, and I'll have no real assurance of when it'll be good enough, but at some point I'll pitch it to someone who will decide if I'm delusional or not." The optimism and the ego-bruising, unsexy work needed to follow through feels unending. ~ Kate Inglis

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

She had several books she'd been wanting to read, but instead she sprawled out on the couch surrounded by pillows and blankets, and spent the hours flipping channels between Judge Judy, The People's Court, Maury, and Jerry Springer, and rounded out her afternoon with Dr. Phil and Oprah. All in all, it was a complete waste of a day. At least until school got out.
Jay showed up after school with a bouquet of flowers and an armful of DVDs, although Violet couldn't have card less about either...he was all she wanted. She couldn't help the electric thrill of excitement she felt when he came strolling in, grinning at her foolishly as if he hadn't seen her in weeks rather than hours. He scooped her up from the couch and dropped her onto his lap as he sat down where she had been just a moment before. He was careful to arrange her ankle on a neatly stacked pile of pillows beside him.
He stubbornly refused to hide his affection for her, and if Violet hadn't known better she would have sworn that he was going out of his way to make her self-conscious in her own home. Fortunately her parents were giving them some space for the time being, and they were left by themselves most of the time.
"Did you miss me?" he asked arrogantly as he gently brushed his lips over hers, not bothering to wait for an answer.
She smiled while she kissed him back, loving the topsy-turvy feeling that her stomach always got when he was so close to her. She wound her arms around his neck, forge ~ Kimberly Derting

What's wrong Fane?" she asked him.
"You know what you are to me, yes?" he asked.
Jacque whispered her answered out loud, "Mate."
Fane nodded his head, "Yes, Meu inimă, you are my mate . The other half of my soul, and the thought of you not wanting me is more than I can bear," Fane told her honestly.
"No pressure huh?" Jacque said trying to lighten the mood.
"I would never ask you to do something you do not want to Luna, but I will not lie and say that I won't follow you around like a sick puppy," Fane said with a smile, though the tears were not quite gone yet. ~ Quinn Loftis

Eventually, I developed my own image of teh "befriending" impulse behind my depression. Imagine that from early in my life, a friendly figure, standing a block away, was trying to get my attention by shouting my name, wanting to teach me some hard but healing truths about myself. But I-- fearful of what I might hear or arrogantly trying to live wihtout help or simply too busy with my ideas and ego and ethics to bother-- ignored teh shouts and walked away.

So this figure, still with friendly intent, came closer and shouted more loudly, but AI kept walking. Ever closer it came, close enough to tap me on the shoulder, but I walked on. Frustrated by my unresponsiveness, the figure threw stones at my back, then struck me with a stick, still wanting simply to get my attention. But despite teh pain, I kept walking away.

Over teh years, teh befriending intent of this figure never disapppeared but became obscured by the frustration cuased by my refusal to turn around. Since shouts and taps, stones and sticks had failed to do the trick, there was only one thing left: drop the nuclear bomb called depression on me, not with the intent to kill but as a last-ditch effort to get me to turn and ask the simple question, "What do you want?" When I was finally able to make the turn-- and start to absorb and act on the self-knowledge that then became available to me-- I began to get well.

The figure calling to me all those years was, I believe, what Thomas Merto ~ Parker J. Palmer

And yet, despite the multiplicity of times we've done it, it is still a funny, exultant, true thing - where for a short time you turn into something else and fly; where you stop fretting and wanting, and are simply alight with joy - and all while never venturing beyond the walls of your room. And I would put our continued success down to one simple thing. At the end of every tumbling session, one of us will turn to the other and say, "Thank you very much. That was very pleasant. Very pleasant indeed. My dear, I am much obliged to you."
Because at the end of the day, that is the hottest sex tip of all: gratitude. That you've found someone who wants to do that thing, with you, and no government has yet found a way to charge you VAT on it. You can set fire to the sky, and not be charged a penny.
Sometimes, it's great being a human. ~ Caitlin Moran

I have met people who truly do not believe in God, and they feel no anger when they see suffering. They are indifferent to it. But you and I are angry. Anger is not indifference. I blamed God because He took my family. But I couldn't get revenge from God, so I turned my rage against other people. I wanted revenge. Someone must pay."

"You're wrong." Helen said, wanting desperately to believe that he was. "I told you, I no longer believe in God."

"Then why are you so angry with Him?" His eyes were so sorrowful that Helen had to look away. She was unable to reply.

"You blame me and my country for your losses Miss Kimball. And I blame you and your country. But you and I are people, not countries. Did you kill my wife? My child? Would you put a gun to their heads and shoot them, or take away all of their food and watch them die? No, of course not. Neither would I kill someone you loved if I met him face to face. Wars come from bitterness and hatred. They are started by nations without face. But wars end when the hatred ends in the hearts of people like you and me. That is why I ask you to please forgive me. ~ Lynn Austin

The longer you stay in the job that you do the more you learn about what those around you do. As an actor I've always nosed around apologetically about: "oh wouldn't it be interesting if I could do that?" I can't imagine not wanting to do this everyday. ~ Jason Bateman

I don't mess around with clients." He makes the sign of the cross. "So for as long as you are one I will be a complete professional. It's probably for the best that we're discussing it, so you don't mistake me not trying to get in your pants as me not wanting to get in your pants." His eyes slide downward, and his voice dips to a whisper. "I definitely want in. ~ Emma Chase

The truth is, when someone doesn't want you, no reason matters. No amount of fixing could change that and actually, there isn't anything that needs to be fixed because nothing was wrong or missing in the first place. You have always been wholly you, before or after them, including all the flaws and imperfections that make you unique. So if you ever feel the need to redeem or validate yourself after being rejected, please don't because no one can take anything away from you by not wanting you and you aren't born to prove yourself to anyone. ~ Thought Catalog

Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about America wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullshit. Americans love to fight, traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. You are here today for three reasons. First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones. Second, you are here for your own self respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else. Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight. ~ George S. Patton

I guess what I feel about that is that that's a kind of necessity of my own stupidity. You know when I'm trying to write a piece, I'm not able, not capable of deciding beforehand, my angle or some overarching theory. And just personally, when I'm reading reviews or when I'm reading nonfiction, I'm wanting to see somebody thinking, you know? My favorite kind of criticism is of people thinking aloud. And so that's what I'm trying to aim for. And also probably out of a kind of spirit of autodidacticism, which kind of follows me around, because my own education was kind of basic, and then suddenly very involved. It went from a kind of general state school, two thousand kids. A kind of messy, random education, and then, through what used to be a kind of British meritocracy, no money and you're passed into a very fine university. But in between those two things, for me there's like an enormous gap. And that gap is filled with fear of not knowing - of constantly not knowing. So I feel when I'm writing, I'm still in that place. I don't think you ever completely get out of that place when you feel that you haven't known. ~ Zadie Smith

If you don't look at me right this minute, Brody McTavish, I'm going to ---"
He swung on her. Had she not been standing flatfooted she would have stumbled back. Instead, she was rooted to the ground as suddenly he was in her face. "I've been listening to you and I've been looking at you for years," he said, his voice deep and thick with emotion. "I've been waiting for you to grow up." His voice faltered as he dropped his horse's reins. "Because I've been wanting to do this since you were sixteen."
Grabbing her, he pulled her against his rock-hard body. His mouth dropped to hers. Her lips parted of their own accord, just as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her heart hammered against her ribs as he deepened the kiss and she heard herself moan. ~ B. J. Daniels

The bond between husband and wife is a strong one. Suppose the man had hunted her out and brought her back. The memory of her acts would still be there, and inevitably, sooner or later, it would be cause for rancor. When there are crises, incidents, a woman should try to overlook them, for better or for worse, and make the bond into something durable. The wounds will remain, with the woman and with the man, when there are crises such as I have described. It is very foolish for a woman to let a little dalliance upset her so much that she shows her resentment openly. He has his adventures--but if he has fond memories of their early days together, his and hers, she may be sure that she matters. A commotion means the end of everything. She should be quiet and generous, and when something comes up that quite properly arouses her resentment she should make it known by delicate hints. The man will feel guilty and with tactful guidance he will mend his ways. Too much lenience can make a woman seem charmingly docile and trusting, but it can also make her seem somewhat wanting in substance. We have had instances enough of boats abandoned to the winds and waves.
It may be difficult when someone you are especially fond of, someone beautiful and charming, has been guilty of an indiscretion, but magnanimity produces wonders. They may not always work, but generosity and reasonableness and patience do on the whole seem best. ~ Murasaki Shikibu

Not long after Chris died, a national magazine published a story comparing his life with that of the man accused of killing him. There are some parallels; they both grew up in Texas. But the article skimped on the differences. Look at the decisions they made, look at what they did with their lives, look at the responsibilities they took on--or shirked.
Chris saw a great deal of combat. He never made excuses for his behavior. He didn't always do the right thing, but he tried to do the right thing by others. Chris got the good grace, as Abel did, not by his birthright, but by his effort.
As I sat listening to the prosecutor, I thought his parallel extended through Chris's life--not solely to the man who shot him, but to the haters, to the people who ended up in legal disputes with him or his estate, for whatever reason. They all wanted something he had.
Not money, but authenticity. Real achievements. Soul.
Grace.
And of course that's the one thing you can't take from someone else, even if you steal his life.
Chris became famous without wanting to. Opportunities that others had to fight and claw for seemed to fall in his lap. But most of all, people just liked him for being who he was, with seemingly no effort on his part at all.
Of course, there was effort, and there was great struggle. He had to persevere--The Navy didn't want him at all when he first tried to enlist. But people don't see that part. They don't see the long days at BUD/S, or ~ Taya Kyle

But I figured out after a while that I couldn't spend my life punishing everyone who deserved to be punished."

"So you just forgive them?" Diana said.

He shrugged. "I guess so. Not because they deserve to be forgiven. They don't. It's just that when you go around hating people and wanting to hurt them... You just can't do that. That isn't life. You forgive them so you can live. ~ Katherine Applegate

You run off when things get a little more complicated than you'd like, and leave us to cover your tracks so the whole valley doesn't find out that Hytanica bloody lost its King-meanwhile, the Cokyrians are infiltrating our lands to the north, so it becomes entirely possible that you've walked right into their camp. We have men out there still searching for you,men who should be helping to barricade the northern border-to make sure that in a week you still have a kingdom to rule. And you have the gall to strut in here and be an ass! I swear, Steldo, if we didn't need someone to sit on that throne, I'd dispatch you with my own hands!"
The two erstwhile companions stared at each other, Galen challenging Steldor to respond, and Steldor too staggered to do so.Eventually,the sergeant threw his hands in the air and marched into his office,slamming the door behind him.
In the silence that followed Galen's departure, I came to appreciate the true meaning of the word awkward. Steldor did not rise to his feet, and his eyes were glazed. I felt un-needed,but there was no way for me to make a polished exit. The Palace Gaurds,bound by duty to remaind, searched the walls, the floor, the ceiling, for anything plausible in which to show an interest, not wanting to be caught gawking at their King. ~ Cayla Kluver

Love is brave and generous and above all it springs from honor. In order to love someone else, you must first be true to yourself.
Love is not two people wanting or needing what the other can give.
Hester Latterly ~ Anne Perry

If- if I could find a way to free you," I whispered, "would you walk the world above with me?"
My back was to the Goblin King; I could not face him. It was a long time before he answered.
"Oh, Elisabeth," he said. "I would go anywhere with you."
I turned around. His eyes deepened in color and for a moment, just for the merest glimpse, I could see what he would have been like as a mortal man. If he had been allowed to live the course of his life, from the child he had been to the man he would have become. A musician- a violinist. I ran back into the circle of alder trees, wanting the circle of his arms around me. I reached out my hands, and his fingers brushed mine, but we passed through each other like water, like a mirage. We were each nothing but a shimmering illusion, a candle flame we could not hold.
And yet, the Goblin King was still here, in the Goblin Grove, with me. He stood in the Underground while I stood in the world above, but our hearts beat within the same space.
"Don't look back," he said.
I nodded. I love you, I wanted to say. But I knew these words would break me.
"Elisabeth."
The Goblin King was smiling. Not the pointed smile of the Lord of Mischief or Der Erlkönig, but a crooked one. Twisted to one side, lopsided and goofy, it cracked my heart open and I bled inside.
He mouthed a word at me. A name. "You've always had it, Elisabeth," he said softly. "For it is you I gave my soul. ~ S. Jae-Jones

Dragging his lips from hers, he buried his face in her neck. His arms tightened around her almost to the point of pain.

Frowning, wanting those lips on hers again, she hugged him back. "Nick?"

"You scared the hell out of me today," he murmured, his deep voice hoarse.

Her heart turned over. He would only have such a reaction if he cared about her. How had she not realized that before? "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Just let me hold you a minute."

Smiling, she snuggled against him. ~ Dianne Duvall

You must watch and wait, Branza, to see what powers you have and don't have. It is not like home. We ruled there. Everything fell into place around what we wanted. Here, we are not the only ones wanting, and we must make room for other people's desires. ~ Margo Lanagan

It's quite ironic that by being a romantic asexual, you are eternally screwed. See, it's extremely difficult to meet somebody who wants a romantic relationship without any sex. Wanting a romantic relationship without sex is like offering non-alcoholic beer at a house party. They'll laugh at you, call you a socially-awkward dork, they'll ask you why you don't just go with soft drinks... people generally don't drink booze for the colour or flavour (although I suppose you could count those hipsters who hang out at craft breweries debating over the nutty undertaste of it or whatever hipsters debate about). I've come to the conclusion that I am probably better off alone. Lonely at times maybe, but that's what friends are for. Solitude can be wonderfully liberating, anyway. Not having to share belongings or property, having your own time and privacy... and in any case, if you ever feel the need to be anchored by something or someone, material items and hobbies and states of being, those all last indefinitely. They won't go away until you do. It's a kind of freedom that most people don't have access to unless they become divorced or widowed, or if they choose to remain single on purpose. The gilded wings of solitude that probably look ugly and tarnished to everyone standing below them as they gaze up to the sky. The sun shining down on them, wind through silken feathers, that's always brilliant. There are bouts of rain and darkness, but you get that on the ground just as much as you ~ Rebecca McNutt

I have found the temperament of being a thoughtful man is sometimes excruciatingly painful. People become accustomed to the fact that your kindness is part of your personality and therefore any action you take will be based on being civil minded toward others and seemingly not wanting to disappoint anyone. This is of course the wrong view. Being thoughtful does not mean you are a pushover or a stuck in the mud type, seemingly stationary in your attitudes and ambitions. It means you take the time to have consideration of events and people around you. You do not make hasty decisions based solely on observation or emotion. Analysis is a tool for the thoughtful individual ~ Levon Peter Poe

A blush tinged her bronzed skin as she wrapped her arms around herself. Corrado grasped her wrists, pulling her hands away when she tried to shield herself. He stared at her, stunned to see the uncertainty in her eyes.
"You're not nervous this time, are you?" he asked, half-teasingly, half honestly wanting to know. She'd been so confident, unwavering before.
"It's the way you're looking at me."
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like you look at the Taj Mahal. Or the Sistine Chapel. You're staring at me like you stare at the Mona Lisa."
"I've never seen those things."
"It's like you've never seen something so beautiful before."
"I haven't. ~ J.M. Darhower

Here was an unknown quantity-a child in breeches with a blue scarf wound around his neck whose job it was to get them out and back alive. This ... was the greatest terror of war: what you didn't know of the men who told you what to do-where to go and when. What if they were mad-or stupid? What if their fear was greater than yours? Or what if they were brave and crazy-wanting and demanding bravery from you? He looked away. He thought of being born-and trusting your parents. Maybe that was the same. Your parents could be crazy too. Or stupid. Still-he'd rather his father was with him-telling him what to do. Then he smiled. He knew that his father would take one look at the crater and tell him not to go. ~ Timothy Findley

No offense, boys are more immature than girls. Knowing that and not wanting any BS in my life - not having time for it - you just have to be smart about it. Obviously, if you're really attracted to someone and you're in love with them, that's fine. But I see all my brothers and how they act and ... to be picky is good. ~ Nicola Peltz

And suddenly, I feel like crying, but not in a bad way. More like in the way you feel when someone gives you a perfect present - something you'd been wanting, but thought you couldn't ask for. It's that feeling of someone knowing you in all the ways you needed to be known. ~ Becky Albertalli

She stared at him. Her head tipped to the side and she narrowed her eyes. "That's the best you can come up with? What kind of platitude is that?"
"Give me a second. I can do better." He lifted her hand, then reached for her other one. He pulled her close so they stood toe to toe. She shivered a little. He didn't think it had much to do with the cold. Her arms were bare, but the evening was warm. "Everything happens for a reason. God works in mysterious ways. There's a light at the end of the tunnel."
"You suck at this." But she was smiling.
She was so achingly beautiful. He slid his hands up her arms to her elbows so they were closer still. And then she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he forgot how to breathe.
He stood in the shadows, holding her in his arms, wanting to do the right thing and afraid he'd screw it all up. Her hands nestled the small of his back, thumbs hooked through his belt. Her lips brushed against the sensitive base of his throat. Awareness burned through every single spot her body came in contact with his. This was Danni, all grown up. He wanted one little taste. Just a bit.
So he kissed her. And, without a second's hesitation, she kissed him back. The world around them rocked back on its heels.
Then some small noise interrupted - the sound of footsteps, passing too close. He lifted his head, not wanting any intrusion, and the moment ended as fast as it had begun. ~ Paula Altenburg

I wanted to go to sleep and stay there, that's all. A passive wish, one I didn't push. Sure, there is a fine line between not wanting to wake up and actually wanting to kill yourself, and while I discovered you can walk that line for a long while without even noticing, anybody who is around you surely will ... ~ Kevin Powers

A faint movement distracted me as Oria elbow-crawled up to my side. Her profile was outlined by the light from those faraway torches as she looked down on the castle below.
"I'm sorry, Oria," I breathed.
She did not turn her head. "For what?"
"All our plans when we were growing up. All the fine things we'd have had after we won. Making you a duchess--"
She grunted softly. "That was no more than dream-weaving. I don't want to be a duchess. Never did. Well, after my fourteenth year, I didn't. That was you, wanting it for me."
For the first time a flicker of emotion broke briefly through the aching numbness around my heart. "But when we talked…"
She rested her chin on her tightly folded fists, staring down at the castle. I could see tiny reflections of the ruddy torches in her eyes, so steady and unblinking was her gaze. "The only way for me to be a noble is to become a scribe or a herald and work my way up through the government service ranks, and I don't want to write others' things, or to take records, and I don't want to get mixed up with governments--with the kind of people who want to rule over others. Seems like the wrong people get killed, the nice ones. I want…" She sighed and stopped.
"Tell me," I said. "We can dream-weave once more."
"I want to run a house. You can control that--make life comfortable, and pleasant, and beautiful. My dream was always that, or partly that…"
Once again she stopped, and this time the gleam of t ~ Sherwood Smith

And what is love, Angel? What is love! he yelled. Is it a pressure inside that makes me want to scream when you do this? he palmed his chest roughly, Is it my body in constant chaos when you're around me? Is it murder in cold blood when I even think of you being with anybody but me! he roared. Or maybe it's not being able to think or speak when your life is in danger, or wanting to spend every second - of every - fucking day with you, wanting to never leave your side. Is that love? Is it, Isadore? He drew closer and hit his fist repeatedly against his chest. Is it pain so hard and heavy that I can't fucking breathe unless I smell you, touch you, taste you? His body heaved as his bright green gaze seared her heart. Because if it is, Angel...he held his lips together and shook his head slowly, then I am....slain with an eternal and violent love for you. ~ Lucian Bane

So what? You act all mysterious to seem more interesting?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're always wandering off or running away," he said. "But you're a lot more
interesting when you're just being yourself you know. When you're actually here."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Emma said coldly. "Where else would I be?"

"You know what I mean," he said, a rough edge to his voice. "It's like you're so busy trying not to act like your family that you've never even stopped to consider that it might not be such a bad thing."

"Well what about you?" she shot back, aware of the bitterness in her words.
"You complain about your dad not wanting you around, and then you complain when he wants you to stay home for school. You can't have it both wars."

"Well neither can you," he said. " You can't keep everyone at arms length and then expect them to be there for you when you need them. ~ Jennifer E. Smith