Sorry Youre Not My Type Book Quotes

You're not even that hot from this close. If I could take it back, trust me, I would. You are nothing like what I thought you'd be."
"Thanks," I drawled. "And here I was hoping you were in love with me."
Another fake smile. "I don't to love, and you're not my type anyway, sorry."
Like I'd believe that after I saw the pictures she'd taken of me half-naked. "My heart is fucking broken, sweetheart."
"As it should be, and don't call me sweetheart."
I chuckled and shook my head. The nerve. ~ Ella Maise

Me: It will get better, right? Eventually, it will get better.

Scarlett: I'm sorry I'm not the type to lower our discourse to emoji use since you totally deserve a smiley face right now. Yes, it will get better.

Me: Ha. It's just. Whatever. Sorry to keep whining.

Scarlett: That's what I'm here for. BTW, that email you forwarded? My guess: TOTALLY A SECRET ADMIRER.

Me: You've read too many books. I'm being set up. And stop YELLING AT ME.

Scarlett: No way. I didn't say he was a vampire. I said he was a secret admirer. Most def.

Me: Wanna take bets?

Scarlett: You should just know by now that I'm always right. It's my one magic power.

Me: What's mine?

Scarlett: TBD.

Me: Thanks a lot.

Scarlett: Kidding. You are strong. That's your power, girl.

Me: My arms are v. toned from stress-eating ALL the cookies. Hand to mouth. Repeat 323 times. Hard-core workout.

Scarlett: Seriously, for a second, J? Just because you're strong doesn't mean you shouldn't ask for help sometimes. Remember that. I'm here, ALWAYS, but you might want to take up that offer from someone local.

Me: Whatever. Ugh. Thanks, Dr. Phil. I miss you!

Scarlett: Miss you too! Go write back to SN. NOW. NOW. NOW. Now tell me the truth? Anyone at your school unusually pale? ~ Julie Buxbaum

I want to be the guy in a movie who's, I don't know, out walking his rabbit on a leash (I don't have a rabbit) and knows exactly how to strike up a quirky, compelling conversation. Though maybe if you're walking a rabbit on a leash, you don't even have to speak; the rabbit does the work for you. Not that Zuzana seems like the rabbity type. Maybe if I were walking a fox on a leash. Or a hyena. Yeah, if I had a hyena, I'd probably never have to start a conversation again.
Except for, Sorry my hyena ate your leg. ~ Laini Taylor

And I want to play hide-and-seek and give you my clothes and tell you I like your shoes and sit on the steps while you take a bath and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy's and talk about the day and type up your letters and carry your boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you don't listen to and watch great films and watch terrible films and complain about the radio and take pictures of you when you're sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match and tell you about the tv programme I saw the night before and take you to the eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your

and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home and worry when you're late and be amazed when you're early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I'm black and be sorry when I'm wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I'd known you forever and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you're angry and your eye has gone red and the other e ~ Sarah Kane

If you're too overcome to even finish your sentence then you must be sincere, you must really mean what you're not saying, you must ... I'm sorry. I cannot type. My fingers are crying. ~ Mark Forsyth

I already knew what I'd research. I wrote the words 'Courtly love' on my notepad in swirly script, then caught Hayden peering at it.
'Courtly love? Sorry, Aurora, but I think I've already got that one in the bag.'
'I think you'd better think again, because I've already claimed it,' I replied.
'You just said you're not the Mills & Boon type and, technically, courtly love could be considered historical romance.' He grinned. 'As you don't want to pollute your mind with any clichéd topics, you should probably leave that one to me.'
'You, discussing romance? Ha!'
Hayden put on a hurt face. 'I think I might be alright at it. After all, I've been doing a lot of observing lately.' He gave me a significant look.
'Observing?' I repeated, curiosity getting the better of me.
'Well, you keep accusing me of spying on your dates,' he said, and shrugged. 'So, technically, I guess I'm learning about romance firsthand. It seems kind of brutal, judging from the goodnight ritual I saw last night.'
My blood wasn't boiling, but it was pretty warm. Despite that, I was not going to lose my temper. I was determined that this year Hayden Paris wasn't going to destroy my composure. ~ Tara Eglington

Are you a stripper?" I ask. "Because you're wearing way too much clothing for a stripper." "And you're not wearing enough," she says, her voice icy. "Well, it would be a shame to hide my best feature," I say, giving her my cocky grin. Women totally dig the grin. It gets me into – and out of – so much trouble. But this girl doesn't. She wrinkles her nose and looks at me like she just tasted something bad. "I'm sorry," she says. "About what?" "I'm sorry that's your best feature," she says, nodding pointedly downward at my cock. "How disappointing. ~ Sabrina Paige

But how did you know that it was Stacy?"
"There wasn't a green light flashing, that's for sure," he said. "Mostly, I felt I'd met a person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. That I didn't need to look any further.""
"But how can you be sure?" I persisted.
"You can't. There's not just one person in the world who's your type. There's a whole group with the same likes and dislikes. But you want to spend your whole life looking for all of them? You just feel that everything's right. You're at peace with yourself. ~ Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

You're flying to Chicago to get drunk and have other women shake their boobs in your face."
"If it bothers you, I won't go," he said seriously.
"No," I kicked at the table leg. "It doesn't bother me. Maybe I'm just jealous."
"Jealous? You're not the jealous type."
"Maybe I want boobs shaken in my face. ~ L.D. Davis

Ah, Samuel? Eyes up here, please."
I dragged my gaze from her breasts to her lips, and lifted my brows. "Yeah, you're not my type, but you have an incredible rack, and I'd like having those lips on my dick."
It sounded like my usual bullshit, but it was possibly the most honest, unfiltered thing I'd said all day.
She snorted, spraying vodka from her mouth and nose, and shook her head. "You need to shut that shit down. I'm not giving you a blowjob. Stop thinking about it. ~ Kate Canterbary

You haven't lost your wits, have you?" Lopen asked, eyeing the bones. "Because if you have, I've got a cousin who makes this drink for people who've lost their wits, and it might make you better, sure." "If I'd lost my wits," Kaladin said, walking over to a pool of still water to wash off the carapace helm, "would I say that I had?" "I don't know," Lopen said, leaning back. "Maybe. Guess it doesn't matter if you're crazy or not." "You'd follow a crazy man into battle?" "Sure," Lopen said. "If you're crazy, you're a good type, and I like you. Not a killing-people-in-their-sleep type of crazy. ~ Brandon Sanderson

I'm sorry I'm slow."
He brushes my hair over my shoulder. "You're not slow."
I raise an eyebrow.
"I'm serious." When he sees I'm unconvinced, he rubs at his stubble and starts again. "I don't want you to give any more than you want. What makes this special is that you're into it. The moment you aren't, that's where I become a bastard for asking for more. I'm telling you, I've got no problem taking it slow. ~ Katie McGarry

Lady Sarah steps in, wearing her nightclothes under a fluffy ivory robe and a chastising expression. Behind her glasses, her eyes narrow on Henry.
"So this is how it's going to be, then? Married only a few days and I already have to search the palace to drag my husband to bed?"
Henry goes to Sarah, like an invisible rope is reeling him to her. "Dragging me to your bed is something you'll never have to do, love. You can even tie me there whenever you like, and I'll be happy to reciprocate."
He kisses her mouth, as she blushes deep and bright.
She leans back. "Then why are you down here instead of up there with me?"
"There was an emergency."
"What kind of an emergency?"
"You're not going to believe it."
"Try me."
"Logan and Ellie are fucking."
She automatically glances at me, and her cheeks deepen to a shade of crimson. "I'm sure there's a more delicate way to word that, Henry."
Henry nods, soberly. "You're right, I'm sorry. Let me try again: Logan and Ellie are humping, like insatiable randy bunnies, all over the palace."
Sarah shakes her head. "You're hopeless."
The Prince grins broadly. "It's part of my charm."
"What am I going to do with you?"
Henry kisses her again. "Take me to bed. Obviously. ~ Emma Chase

If we can use an H-bomb--and as you said it's no checker game; it's real, it's war and nobody is fooling around--isn't it sort of ridiculous to go crawling around in the weeds, throwing knives and maybe getting yourself killed . . . and even losing the war . . . when you've got a real weapon you can use to win? What's the point in a whole lot of men risking their lives with obsolete weapons when one professor type can do so much more just by pushing a button?'
Zim didn't answer at once, which wasn't like him at all. Then he said softly, 'Are you happy in the Infantry, Hendrick? You can resign, you know.'
Hendrick muttered something; Zim said, 'Speak up!'
I'm not itching to resign, sir. I'm going to sweat out my term.'
I see. Well, the question you asked is one that a sergeant isn't really qualified to answer . . . and one that you shouldn't ask me. You're supposed to know the answer before you join up. Or you should. Did your school have a course in History and Moral Philosophy?'
What? Sure--yes, sir.'
Then you've heard the answer. But I'll give you my own--unofficial--views on it. If you wanted to teach a baby a lesson, would you cuts its head off?'
Why . . . no, sir!'
Of course not. You'd paddle it. There can be circumstances when it's just as foolish to hit an enemy with an H-Bomb as it would be to spank a baby with an ax. War is not violence and killing, pure and simple; war is controlled violence, for a purpose. The purpose of war ~ Robert A. Heinlein

I'm here." St. Clair is angry. "I'm just sorry I'm not there. With you. I wish there was something I could do."
"Wanna come beat her up for me?"
"I'm packing my throwing stars right now."
I sniffle and wipe my nose. "I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I thought he liked me.That's the worst part, knowing he was never even interested."
"Bollocks.He was interested."
"No,he wasn't," I say. "Bridge said so."
"Because she's jealous! Anna, I was there that first night he called you. I've seen how he looked at you in pictures." I protest,but he interrupts. "Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you."
There's a shocked pause,on both ends of the line.
"Because,of course,of how intelligent you are. And funny.Not that you aren't attractive.Because you are. Attractive. Oh,bugger..."
I wait.
"Are you still there,or did you hang up because I'm such a bleeding idiot?"
"I'm here."
"God,you made me work for that."
St. Clair said I'm attractive.That's the second time.
"You're so easy to talk to," he continues, "that sometimes I forget you're not one of the guys."
Scratch that. He thinks I'm Josh. "Just drop it. I can't take being compared to a guy right now-"
"That's not what I meant-"
"How's your mom? I'm sorry, I've hogged ur entire conversation,and this was supposed to be about her,and I didn't even ask-"
"You did ask. It was the first thing you said when you answered. And technical ~ Stephanie Perkins

I don't want to date her; I just want to be around her. She's ... different."
"Different how?" America asked, sounding irritated.
"She doesn't put up with my bullshit, it's refreshing. You said it yourself, Mare. I'm not her type. It's just not ... like that with us."
"You're closer to her type than you know," America said. ~ Jamie McGuire

Like you pointed out, I'm not your type. You're a nice lady, you know, once you've been fed and wined, but you're not my type either. We're just people in really fucked-up situations, and we need some help dealing with those situations," he said "What we're talking about here ... it's preservation. I need it as much as you do. ~ Kate Canterbary

She slid a slim volume of poetry off the shelf and returned to her chair, swishing her rather unnattractive skirts before she sat down.
Benedict frowned. He'd never really noticed before how ugly her dress was. Not as bad as the one Mrs. Cabtree had lent her, but certainly not anything designed to bring out the best in a woman.
He ought to buy her a new dress. She would never accept it,of course, but maybe if her current garments were accidentally burned...
"Mr. Bridgerton?"
But how could he manage to burn her dress? She'd have to not be wearing it, and that posed a certain challenge in and of itself...
"Are you even listening to me?" Sophie demanded.
"Hmmm?"
"You're not listening to me."
"Sorry," he admitted. "My apologies. My mind got away from me. Please continue."
She began anew, and in his attempt to show how much attention he was paying her, he focused his eyes on her lips, which proved to be a big mistake.
Because suddenly those lips were all he could see, and he couldn't stop thinking about kissing her, and he knew- absolutely knew-that if one of them didn't leave the room in the next thirty seconds, he was going to do something for which he'd owe her a thousand apologies.
Not that he didn't plan to seduce her. Just that he'd rather do it with a bit more finesse.
"Oh, dear," he blurted out.
Sophie gave him an odd look. He didn't blame her. He sounded like a complete idiot. He didn't think he'd uttered t ~ Julia Quinn

She was well into her course of self-recrimination when he returned. The flap parted, and a very wet Zane crawled in beside her.
"You okay?" he asked, as he set down the flashlight and touched her cheek. "Getting warm?"
She nodded, then sniffed. "I'm sorry."
His dark eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled. "It was worth it."
"What?"
"I get to say I told you so."
She sniffed again. "You're not mad?"
"Because I had to go out in the rain, in the middle of the night, pull up the stakes on your tent, resecure it somewhere else so it would dry out, then cart your saddlebags over to Cookie's wagon, wake him up and then listen to him complain?"
She winced. "Those would be the reasons."
"I'm not mad."
She couldn't believe it. "But I was stupid."
"You're a greenhorn. You didn't know any better."
"You tried to tell me. I should have listened."
He smiled. "That'll teach you. The man always knows best."
"That's so not true."
"It is in this case. So are you naked?"
The switch in topic caught her unaware. She shimmied a little deeper into the sleeping bag. "I, ah, left on my panties."
Zane swore softly. "I guess I deserved that for asking."
"Deserved what?"
"You don't want to know."
Suddenly she did. Very much. But she didn't know how to ask. So she tried a different subject.
"Are we going to share the sleeping bag?"
"I thought I'd go stay with Cookie."
"Oh." Disappointment floode ~ Susan Mallery

WHY DID YOU TELL PEOPLE MY ESSAY WASN'T TRUE?"

"I don't know," he said, breaking out in a sweat. "Because I don't believe it. I don't believe anyone could be so well adjusted."

She typed. "WHY NOT?"

"You said you look at your friends' lives and feel like your own is better, which is fine, except that you don't have any friends."

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?"

"I sit behind you. I notice things."

"WHAT KIND OF THINGS?"

"It's not your fault that you don't have any friends. You always have an aide with you. No one is going to be themselves when there's a teacher standing right there. Plus, you talked about parties and dances, but I don't think you've even been to any, so how would you know what you're not sorry to be missing?"

He kept going. He started saying too much, telling her all the things he'd noticed - that she never said hi to other kids, that she never answered questions when people asked her things before class. "I'm not pretending I'm Mr. Popularity or anything. I'm just saying you've got this whole message that doesn't seem believable. To me, anyway."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE SAYING THIS."

Her facial expressions were impossible to read. He couldn't tell how mad she was. Probably pretty mad. "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have said anything. It's none of my business. Like, none at all. I don't know why I just said all that. I had this theory that you're trying ~ Cammie McGovern

Myrnin: Have we been introduced?
Frank: Probably not. Why, you asking me out, sweetheart?
Myrnin: You're not my type, darling. ~ Rachel Caine

You're not my matchmaker any longer. But we're still friends, and in the interest of our friendship we need to discuss page thirteen."
"Page thirteen ?"
"You've accused me of being arrogant. I've always thought of myself as confident, but I'm here to tell you, no more. After studying these pictures ... Honey, if this is what you're looking for in a man, I don't think any of us are going to measure up."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Who knew flexible silicone came in so many colors?"
Her sex toy catalog. He'd taken it months ago. She'd hoped he forgotten it by now.
" Most of these products are hypoallergenic. That's good, I guess. Some with batteries, some without. I suppose that's a matter of preference. There's a harness on this one. That's pretty kinky. And ... Son of a bitch ! It says this one is dishwater safe. I'm sorry but there's just something unappetizing about that. ~ Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Healing is a deeply private process and, honestly, you're not welcome to be a part of it. But you will have given me a short furlough from the dark, sorry prison of my mind, and that gift, precious in its own right, is really the best you can hope to offer. ~ Jonathan Tropper

Dear David, I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen the way we planned it. I can't do it. I know you're just going to think I'm being a stupid teenager, but this is my life and if I'm going to be here for years, I have to do this my way. I'll still be able to do my job from outside of Erudite. So tomorrow, at the Choosing Ceremony, Andrew and I are going to choose Abnegation together. I hope you're not angry. I guess even if you are, I won't hear about it. - Natalie ~ Veronica Roth

But not because I hate being pitied. I do, but it's more than that. When people pity, it's like they honestly don't realize the exact same thing's coming for them. And I feel embarrassed and uncomfortable and have to pity them, because, like, do you not realize it's always someone's turn? You haven't noticed everyone gets a few blows that seem so big you can't survive them? And then here is this person looking at you and dramatically murmuring, I'm sorry for your loss. And you have to look at them and hope your eyes aren't saying, Don't be too sorry. You're next. You have to spend all this energy making your face say, Yes it's horrible, and extremely rare. I can't believe I was the person who lost my father. You certainly won't lost anyone. You'll die first, out of everyone you love, on the eve of your hundredth birthday. ~ Emily Henry

I must be a little crazy." She said it in a husky and quiet tone. "I must be, I have to admit. But I thought if I could get through to one other person I could get through to more. So people wouldn't tire me, and so I wouldn't be afraid of them. Because my feeling can't be people's fault, so much. They don't make it. Well, I believed it must be you who could do this for me. And you could. I was so happy to find you. I thought you knew all about what you could do and you were so lucky and so special. That's why it's not just jealousy. I didn't want you to come back. I'm sorry you're here now. You're not special. You're like everybody else. You get tired easily. I don't want to see you any more. ~ Saul Bellow

What the hell?" I muttered. Then I realized it was Jack Quinn's car. Jack was a Hound and Bea's boyfriend. The left blinker flashed on for just a second, and then Jack drove at speed again.
"Zayvion, I'm sorry to tell you I think I have a crush on another man."
"Who is this unfortunate and soon-to-be-dead fool?" he asked.
"Jack. That's his car. He must have been waiting for us, or maybe he followed us."
"Jack Quinn has been following us?" Shame said.
"And now he's taking us to Collins, I think."
"Or a trap," Shame said.
"He's a Hound, Shame."
"My statement stands."
"You still don't get it, do you?" I turned left, following the car. "Hounds are loyal. Jack and Bea told me they'd help me if they could. They're not going to turn against me while I'm in trouble."
"What happens when you're not in trouble?" Shame asked.
"Don't know. It's never happened. ~ Devon Monk

You're just not the type that I go for after all. You're not graceful, you're violent, you don't know what sweet means... We'd probably be fighting non-stop, and I don't think it would work out. That's my straight answer. But! I don't hate you, by a long shot. ~ Naoshi Komi

I've asked Sophia to stay for the night, and she has agreed."
Stay? In the same house he was staying in? It had been pure hell trying to sleep before, but now, knowing she was there, under the same roof, her lush body-"No." The word was torn from him.
Fiona's gaze narrowed. "Dougal, this is my house-"
"And mine," Jack added flatly.
Dougal sent him a cutting glare.
Fiona sniffed. "If I wish Miss MacFarlane to stay,she'll stay."
Sophia lifted her chin. "I'm sorry you're averse to my visit, but I've already accepted your sister's kind invitation.
Dougal's jaw clenched. If she stayed, he might not be able to let her go. Damn it all,this was not fair!
Outside, the gray sky began to darken again, a rumble of thunder sounding in the distance.
Sophia glanced out the window, her face paling yet more.
"Not again," Jack muttered. "We're going to float away."
"Dougal," his sister snapped, "watch your temper!"
"I am," he said through gritted teeth. ~ Karen Hawkins

Charlie snorted. Sure. Insta-friends with one of the world's most famous rock stars. ZERO weirdness. Check. And you're not my type either, dude. ~ Anne Eliot

Silas nods and turns to back the car up, accidently brushing a hand against my shoulders as he does so.
"Sorry," he says under his breath, like he's whispering in church. I shake my head as Scarlett settles her long arms and legs in the backseat and uses her cloak as a blanket.
Still trying to lean somewhere between the door of death and Silas's shoulder, I stare out the window as we lumber out of town. The road is smooth, hypnotic, with the dotted lines vanishing rhythmically before us. I glance back at my sister. She's fallen asleep, and Screwtape is casting her dark looks, as if she's to blame for his predicament.
I looked toward Silas, trying to appear as if I'm just glancing out his window. Really, I want to study him intensely. He's wearing one of his many nearly threadbare T-shirts, jeans that are soft from washing, wavy hair . . . Everything about him begs to be touched . . .
"You're nervous," Silas says suddenly.
"What? No!" I answer sharply. Am I that obvious?
Silas raises an eyebrow and laughs.
"It makes sense. I mean, you and Lett have lived in Ellison forever." Right . . . right. He's talking about the trip, not my resisting the temptation to fall on him. We're silent for a moment, nearly tangible awkwardness floating around the front seats. Silas drums his fingers on the steering wheel. ~ Jackson Pearce

I'm not one of those actors who gets so taken by a role that I can't live my life. I'm the type of actor who goes to work, transforms into a character, takes you on a journey, and then comes back home to be Billy. When I'm in it, I'm in it, but I know how to get out of it. When you can't shut it off, you're a crazy person. I'm not crazy. ~ Billy Porter

Wait," Percy said. "So you mean - " "Right," Nico said again. "But it's cool. We're cool. I mean, I see now ... you're cute, but you're not my type." "I'm not your type ... Wait. So - ~ Rick Riordan

In one blow, that dream died as they dragged me - him - away. A tear slid down my cheek. I wasn't the only one mourning the loss of a dream.
"I'm sorry."
'You're not alone, I just wanted you to know that. And someday, when I have my powers back and am free, I'm going to do some serious damage to the people who've hurt you. ~ Kimberly Kinrade

Vance shook his head. "Philly, I love you, buddy. I do. But you're not my type."
"I'm not?"
"What? Are you insulted?"
Philip was pondering that when the front door jingled. ~ A. Lee Martinez

Vik moved to sit down by her arm. "You want to leave him for a real man?"
Shahara laughed. "You're not my type, Vik."
He tsked. "Yeah, it's hard for you fleshy types to admit that we're better in bed. 'Sa'ight. I understand." He sniffed. "Not like I don't have a crush on a lamp."
Syn smiled. "You know I have missed you."
-Vik, Shahara, & Syn ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Dell pulled out his cell phone, speed-dialed a number, and put the phone on speaker. A woman answered with a professionally irritated tone: "What do you need now?"

"Jade," Dell said.

"Nope, it's the Easter Bunny. And your keys are on your desk."

Dell shook his head. "Now darlin', I don't always call you just because I've lost my keys."

"I'm sorry, you're right. You wallet's on your desk, too. As for your little black book, you're on your own with that one, Dr. Flirt. I'm at lunch."

Dell sighed. "What did we say about you and the whole power-play thing?"

"That it's good for your ego to have at least one woman in your life that you can't flash a smile at and have them drop their panties?"

Dell grinned. "I really like it when you say 'panties.' And for the record, I knew where my keys and wallet were."

"No you didn't."

"Okay, I didn't, but that's not why I'm calling. Can you bring burgers and fries for me and Brady? Oh, and Adam, too, or he'll bitch like a little girl."

"You mean 'Jade, will you pretty please bring us burgers and fries?'"

"Yes," Dell said, nodding. "That. And Cokes." He looked at Brady, who nodded. "And don't forget the ketchup."

"You forgot the nice words."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dell said. "You look fantastic today, I especially love the attitude and sarcasm you're wearing."

Jade's voice went saccharine sweet. "So ~ Jill Shalvis

Willow turned her gaze from him as he sat down on the bed and smoothed her tangled hair off her face. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, sweetheart. Are you all right now?"
Willow couldn't help flinching from his touch. "Of course I'm all right," she snapped.
Rider jerked his hand back as if bitten. "Freckles, honey, is something wrong, something you're not telling me?"
The angry redhead shrugged. "What could possibly be wrong?"
"I don't know. You just seem a little....out of sorts."
Bastard, she silently cursed. But aloud she said, "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."
"Do you want me to bring your supper to you in here? I'd be happy to keep you company."
"I would like to have my supper in here but don't bother yourself on my account. I'm sure you have things to discuss with Pa and the boys."
Rider stood abruptly, obviously at a loss over her attitude. "Fine,Willow, if that's what you want."
"It is."
He opened the door to leave but halted when she called, "Rider."
"Yes?"
"You better move your things in with one of the boys. Miriam is sharing my bed tonight."
"Tonight? But I'm leaving tomorrow and won't be back until-"
"Really,Rider, it's only for one night and I ain't,er, am not in any shape for fooling around!"
"I know that," he bit out, his ire piqued now. "I just thought it might be nice to hold you."
With that, he slammed out the door and Willow broke into tears. Before they stopped, her head was p ~ Charlotte McPherren

That's none of your business," I say. "And, while I'm flattered by your interest, you're really not my type." The ~ Jeff Garvin

Gansey despised raising his voice (in his head, his mother said, People shout when they don't have the vocabulary to whisper), but he heard it happening despite himself and so, with effort, he kept his voice even. "Not like this. At least you have a place to go. 'End of the world'... What is your problem, Adam? I mean, is there something about my place that's too repugnant for you to imagine living there? Why is it that everything kind I do is pity to you? Everything is charity. Well, here it is: I'm sick of tiptoeing around your principles."
"God, I'm sick of your condescension, Gansey," Adam said. "Don't try to make me feel stupid. Who whips out repugnant? Don't pretend you're not trying to make me feel stupid."
"This is the way I talk. I'm sorry your father never taught you the meaning of repugnant. He was too busy smashing your head against the wall of your trailer while you apologized for being alive."
Both of them stopped breathing.
Gansey knew he'd gone too far. It was too far, too late, too much.
Adam shoved open the door.
"Fuck you, Gansey. Fuck you," he said, voice low and furious.
Gansey close his eyes.
Adam slammed the door, and then he slammed it again when the latch didn't catch. Gansey didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to see if people were watching some kid fight with a boy in a bright orange Camaro and an Aglionby jumper. Just then he hated his raven-breasted uniform and his loud car and every three- and four-syllabl ~ Maggie Stiefvater

If you're a certain type of actor, then eventually stepping into a director's shoes is a natural transition. I've always been the actor who's very focused on the narrative, where my character is in the story, and how I can benefit the story. I've always had a technical aspect of what the lens is, how the camera is going to move, how I can feed the information the director applies within that move. If you're that type of actor, narrative-based, technically proficient, the next step is actually not that far. ~ Russell Crowe

I'm sorry," Bowen says
I look up at him."No.It's my fault for being stupid. I shouldn't have used the glass-"
"Fo," Bowen snaps, silencing me. "I'm not sorry the coagulant hurt your hand. You totally deserved it. But I'm sorry about what I said. About being stuck with you."
Sunshine spreads through my body.I sit up and beam at him."Really?"
"Yeah.Really. Aside from you being my potential-and most likely, terrible painful-death, you're not that bad." He smiles and I feel like I could float away. ~ Bethany Wiggins

God, what makes you such an expert on love? You've liked five guys in your life. One was gay, one lives in Indiana or Montana or some place, McClaren moved away before anything could actually happen, one was dating your sister. And then there's me. Hmm, what do we all have in common? What's the common denominator?"
I feel all the blood rush to my face. "That's not fair."
Peter leans in close and says, "You only like guys you don't have a shot with, because you're scared. What are you so scared of?"
I back away from him, right into the wall. "I'm not scared of anything."
"The hell you're not. You'd rather make up a fantasy version of somebody in your head than be with a real person."
I glare at him. "You're just mad because I didn't die of happiness because the great Peter Kavinsky said he liked me. Your ego really is that enormous."
His eyes flash. "Hey, I'm sorry I didn't show up on your doorstep with flowers and profess my undying love for you, Lara Jean, but guess what, that's not real life. You need to grow up."
That's it. I don't have to listen to this. I turn on my heel and walk away. Over my shoulder I say, "Enjoy the hot tub."
"I always do," he calls back. ~ Jenny Han

Let's go," I said.
"Go where?"
"On Lori's date with Parker."
Now he looked at me over the nerdy spectacles he wore for reading.
"I wasn't aware it was a double date. And you're not my type. ~ Jennifer Echols

I think you're asking too much. You know what I have? Toward this Pris android?"
"Empathy," he said.
"Something like that. Identification; there goes I. My god; maybe that's what'll happen. In the confusion you'll retire me, not her. And she can go back to Seattle and live my life. I never felt this way before. We are machines, stamped out like bottle caps. It's an illusion that I - I personally - really exist; I'm just representative of a type."
He could not help being amused; Rachael had become so mawkishly morose. "Ants don't feel like that," he said, "and they're physically identical."
"Ants. They don't feel period."
"Identical human twins. They don't - "
"But they identify with each other; I understand they have an empathic, special bond. ~ Philip K. Dick

First item in the crew roster is given name, so I'll input 'Skippy'. Second item is surname-"
"The Magnificent."
"Really?"
"It is entirely appropriate, Joe."
"Oh, uh huh, because that's what everyone calls you," I retorted sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Not wanting to argue with him, I typed in 'TheMagnificent'.
"Next question is your rank, this file is designed for military personnel."
"I'd like 'Grand Exalted Field Marshall El Supremo'." "Right, I'll type in 'Cub Scout'. Next question-"
"Hey! You jerk-"
"-is occupational specialty."
"Oh, clearly that should be Lord God Controller of All Things."
"I'll give you that one, that is spelled A, S, S, H, O, L, E. Next-"
"Hey! You shithead, I should-"
"Age?" I asked.
"A couple million, at least. I think."
"Mentally, you're a six year old, so that's what I typed in."
"Joe, I just changed your rank in the personnel file to 'Big Poopyhead'." Skippy laughed.
"Five year old. You're a five year old."
"I guess that's fair," he admitted.
"Sex? I'm going to select 'n/a' on that one for you," I said.
"Joe, in your personnel file, I just updated Sex to 'Unlikely'."
"This is not going well, Skippy."
"You started it!"
"That was mature. Four year old, then. Maybe Terrible Twos."
"I give up," Skippy snorted. "Save the damned file and we'll call it even, Ok?"
"No problem. We should do this more often, huh?"
"Oh, shut up. ~ Craig Alanson

The boys are barely old enough
To grow a beard.
But here's something interesting,
Maybe even a little weird.
One of those boys
Has volunteered!
You're familiar with the type.
Good shoulders.
Good teeth.
Believes his own hype.
And now, just to add a little fun,
Some folks say
That he's my son!
I guess it's possible, you know.
I've had so many one-night stands,
So many whams and bams and thank-me-ma'ams,
I can't keep track of every mademoiselle.
Plus, I'm not the type to kiss and tell.
Well, if I'm honest,
I'm not the type to kiss.
But truth is, his mother,
Aethra, was in a mess -
A sweet young thing, courted, prized.
Next thing you know she's spermatized
By Aegeus, who is King of Athens.
Of course. None other. ~ David Elliott