Sweet Face Quotes

When Emerson's library was burning at Concord, I went to him as he stood with the firelight on his strong, sweet face, and endeavored to express my sympathy for the loss of his most valued possessions, but he answered cheerily, 'Never mind, Louisa, see what a beautiful blaze they make! We will enjoy that now.' The lesson was one never forgotten and in the varied lessons that have come to me I have learned to look for something beautiful and bright. ~ Louisa May Alcott

Tis not for golden eloquence I pray,
A godlike tongue to move a stony heart
Methinks it were full well to be apart
In solitary uplands far away,
Betwixt the blossoms of a rosy spray,
Dreaming upon the wonderful sweet face
Of Nature, in a wild and pathless place. ~ Frederick Tennyson

It was my teacher's genius, her quick sympathy, her loving tact
which made the first years of my education so beautiful. It was
because she seized the right moment to impart knowledge that made
it so pleasant and acceptable to me. 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.
Any teacher can take a child to the classroom, but not every
teacher can make him learn. He will not work joyously unless he
feels that liberty is his, whether he is busy or at rest; he must
feel the flush of victory and the heart-sinking of disappointment
before he takes with a will the tasks distasteful to him and
resolves to dance his way bravely through a dull routine of
textbooks.
My teacher is so near to me that I scarcely think of myself apart
from her. How much of my delight in all beautiful things is
innate, and how much is due to her influence, I can never tell. I
feel that her being is inseparab ~ Helen Keller

Lie down there on the sofa and see if I can put you to sleep.
He took up his violin fom the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air - his own no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, his earnest face and the rise and fall of his bow. Then I seemed to be floated peacefully away upon a soft sea of sound until I found myself in dreamland, with the sweet face of Mary Morstan looking down upon me. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle

He was still holding his jacket around me and standing extremely close. The heat from his body called to me, summoning desire I'd only ever read about. As I gazed up into his sweet face, I couldn't deny that I longed for his kiss. I tried to fight it down, to convince myself I couldn't let this progress any further. It had already gone too far. However, something inside conveyed an unspoken request and, as if to answer me, he slowly leaned down.
I closed my eyes, feeling the sweetness of his breath graze my mouth, shivering, awaiting the tender passion of his kiss. And when his mouth finally pressed against mine, all time stopped. Soft and passionate, the heat of his lips warmed the cold of mine. The world around us faded. No sound. No movement. No time. ~ Christi Anna

Nothing happened. You will go tuck yourself up in your bed and remember nothing. Do not go wandering in these areas at night. You will meet unsavory men and bloodsucking fiends," Raphael told the girl, his eyes on hers, unwavering. "And go to church."
"Do you think your calling might be telling everyone in the world what to do?" Magnus asked as they were walking home.
Raphael regarded him sourly. He had such a sweet face, Magnus thought -the face of an innocent angel, and the soul of the crankiest person in the entire world.
"You should never wear that hat again."
"My point exactly," said Magnus. ~ Cassandra Clare

I stare into the green eyes of the boy who has helped me realize that I don't need separate lives but, rather, should find a boy who fits comfortably into them all. I run the back of my hand down the scruff on his sweet face. "I love you, Aiden." Never in my life will I forget the way he looks in this moment. The surprise in his eyes. The emotions crossing his face. His lips forming a smile. His big hands holding my cheeks firmly in place as he looks into my eyes and says, "I love you too, Boots. ~ Jillian Dodd

From thinking about your sweet face between my legs. ~ Cormac McCarthy

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

It wouldn't be very ladylike to punch a guy in the balls, but it isn't very manlike to harass a woman because she has different parts and a sweet face. ~ Caroline George

My dearly beloved if I am to die today and never see the sweet face of you I want you to know that I am no great man and am lucky to have such a woman as you. ~ Wild Bill Hickok

But most of all, when Somer closes her eyes, she imagines the moment she will hold her baby for the first time. She keeps Asha's photo in her pocket and looks at it often. That one photo vaporized her doubts and made everything come to life. She lay awake at night, picturing her daughter's sweet face. ~ Shilpi Somaya Gowda

I wonder if anyone but me realizes what goes on in that head back of your deceptively sweet face. ~ Margaret Mitchell

EDGAR
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled
my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of
my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with
her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and
broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that
slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it:
wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman
out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of
ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,
wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of
silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot
out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen
from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.
Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind:
Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny.
Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.
Storm still. ~ William Shakespeare

Stacy smiled proudly and he filed the image of her sweet face in the section of his heart he shared with no one else ~ Brian, Song of the Snowman

"Mom said if you put ears on your snowman, he'll hear the music of the angels and sing songs to you." ~ Stacy, Song of the Snowman

The sweet promise of her embrace cured the loneliness in him. In her arms, he was whole. ~ Brian, Song of the Snowman

He composed music, dreamed of the future, and kept the situations he couldn't change at bay to the rhythm of his feet drumming on the concrete. Brian, Song of the Snowman

This was as simple as his life got  rhythm, rhyme, and fingertips on cool keys. ~ Brian, Song of the Snowman ~ Rhonda Tibbs

If my daughter has a bad dream and wants to get into my bed, I'm a sucker for her sweet face and warm body next to mine, so I let her jump in. I should tell her to go to bed, but secretly I love it. ~ Lara Spencer

I was pretty nervous when I met Robert DeNiro. I kind of felt like a kid in a candy store for the first time. I couldn't wipe the grin off of my face. But Bobby DeNiro was really, really sweet and made me feel very comfortable. He's very low-key and just a superstar professional, and totally someone to be admired. ~ Yvonne Strahovski

When we complain of having to do the same thing over and over, let us remember that God does not send new trees, strange flowers and different grasses every year. When the spring winds blow, they blow in the same way. In the same places the same dear blossoms lift up the same sweet faces, yet they never weary us. When it rains, it rains as it always has. Even so would the same tasks which fill our daily lives put on new meanings if we wrought them in the spirit of renewal from within
a spirit of growth and beauty. ~ Helen Keller

Such an evening I ran away as soon as I could, but not before I had seen Marianne's sweet face as white as death. That was the last, last look I ever had of her - the last manner in which she appeared to me. It was a horrid sight? Among many horrid sights from that evening, it was the most horrid of all! Yet when I thought of her to-day as really dying - of malaria, and yellow fever, and lupus-"
"No, not lupus."
"Really? Well, that's good. ~ Ben H. Winters

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb:
But never reached the town. ~ William Wordsworth

Come here I want to tell you
Something good
Something nice
Before we wreck again
Can't bear to see your sweet face drop like a tear
Cause I need you here
You know you're my only friend ~ Ethan Gold

The green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners had been imposed upon her ... her eyes were her own. ~ Margaret Mitchell

...For having a baby's sweet face so close to your own, for so long a time as it takes to nurse 'em, is a great tonic for a sad soul. ~ Erica Eisdorfer

She has a small, sweet face that is blushing now, an innocent pale rose. I wonder briefly if all her skin is like that - flawless - and what it would look like pink and warmed from the bite of a cane. ~ E.L. James

There'll be a war," my mother said, her lit cigarette as though forgotten in front of her face… She couldn't have meant war… Soon enough even my father would realize that we were stupid enough to fling a hefty piece of wet Balkan shit right into the blades of a turning fan and expect not to get soiled. The war would come just as prophesied, and for years a part of me would believe that…I had somehow caused it all, and I would feel guilty for all of the dead and the dead-to-be, and sitting in the basement with my town groaning from destruction above my head, I would wish for a time machine and another go at that day. (p.58) ~ Ismet Prcic

Adam took Ellie's hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes closing as he pressed his mouth to her skin. When he opened them I saw tears shimmering there, and felt my throat close up. I watched Ellie's breath catch as he tugged on her hand and pulled her into the kitchen with him to face Braden. All of sudden Adam looked a little sick. "I need to tell you something."

Braden crossed his arms over his chest, frowning as he took in the two of them standing close together. "Go on."

Adam closed his eyes briefly and then when he opened them I saw determination that I admired in the face of his bulldozer of a friend. "You're like a brother. I would never do anything to hurt you. And I know I haven't been what a brother would consider good material for his wee sister, but I love Ellie, Braden. I have for a long time now and I can't not be with her. I've wasted too much time as it is."

Ellie and I held our breaths as the two best friends faced off.

Braden's eyes went to Ellie, his expression not giving anything away. God, he could be an intimidating a-hole when he wanted to be. "Do you love him?"

Adam looked back at her and she squeezed his arm. With a small smile she turned to her brother. "Yes."

Braden shrugged and reached casually over to the kettle to turn it on. "About bloody time. You two were giving me a headache."

My mouth fell open along with Adam and Ellie's. Not once the entire time we'd been datin ~ Samantha Young

There is a beautiful transparency to honest disciples who never wear a false face and do not pretend to be anything but who they are. ~ Brennan Manning

He leans his face in agonisingly slowly, then tells me in a gravelly, possessive, stomach-flipping voice, Because you're mine. ~ L. H. Cosway

Act is the blossom of thought; and joy and suffering are its fruits; thus does a man garner in the sweet and biter fruitage of his own husbandry ~ James Allen

Those who sought her never found her, yet she was known to come to the aid of those in greatest need. And, then again, sometimes she didn't. She was like that. She didn't like the clicking of rosaries, but was attracted to the sound of dice. No man knew what She looked like, although there were many times when a man who was gambling his life on the turn of the cards would pick up the hand he had been dealt and stare Her full in the face. Of course, sometimes he didn't. Among all the gods she was at one and the same time the most courted and the most cursed. ~ Terry Pratchett

In blissful dream, in silent night, There came to me, with magic might, With magic might, my own sweet love, Into my little room above. ~ Heinrich Heine

Why shouldn't Mom trust me, Dad" Why are you so determined to make me out to be the bad guy all the time?" I stared at the side of his face, willing him to make eye contact. He didn't. "I've been doing really good late and you don't even care."
"Yet you still managed to get into trouble tonight," he said.
"You have no idea what happened tonight," I said, my voice ratcheting up a notch. "All you know is that, because I was involved, I'm somehow guilty of something. You could at least pretend to care, you know. You could at least try to understand."
Dad gave a sardonic little laugh. "I'll tell you what I understand," he said. "I understand that when you're left to your own devices you get into trouble, that's what I understand. I understand I was trying to have a happy, restful evening with Briley and once again you screwed it up. ~ Jennifer Brown

Amanda Cardinale, Abby Koons, Emily Sweet, and Sharon Krassney also deserve my thanks. I appreciate all that you do. The Cyrus family deserves my thanks not only for welcoming me into their home, but for all they've done with the film. And a special thanks goes to ~ Nicholas Sparks

She had just given Liger his food when a tap sounded on the connecting door. Priss's heart leaped into her throat.
With excitement.
Not dread, or annoyance, or even indifference.
Pure, sizzling stimulation. Suddenly she was wide-awake.
Tamping down her automatic smile, Priss leaned on the door. "Yeah?"
"Open up."
Still fighting that twitching grin, Priss tried to sound disgruntled as she asked, "Why?"
Something hit the door - maybe his head - and Trace said, "I heard you up and moving around, Priss. I have coffee ready, but if you don't want any - "
Being a true caffeine junkie, she jerked open the door. "Oh, bless you, man." She took the cup straight out of Trace's hand, drank deeply and sighed as the warmth penetrated the thick fog of novel sentiment. "Ahhhh. Nirvana. Thank you."
Only after the caffeine ingestion did she notice that Trace wore unsnapped jeans and nothing else. Her eyes flared wide and her jaw felt loose. Holy moly.
"That was my cup," Trace told her, bemused.
But Priss could only stare at him. Despite the delicious coffee she'd just poured in it, her mouth went dry.
When she continued to stare at him, at his chest and abdomen, her gaze tracking a silky line of brown hair that disappeared into his jeans, Trace crossed his arms.
Her gaze jumped to his face and she found him watching her with equal fascination.
A little lost as to the reason for that look, Priss asked with some belligerence, ~ Lori Foster

We were at a swap meet in Cochituate last year, and there was this Boy Scout troop with a sign that read, 'Help Boy Scouts, Blind Kids.' Toby saw it, and he grabbed my shirt collar and pulled me away. I asked what was wrong, and with this scared expression on his face, he said, That's not right. They need to be stopped.'
I cracked up. 'Oh, no,' I said.
'When I asked him why helping blind kids and Boy Scouts was bad, Toby's whole face went white. He said, 'Forget it. Let's go.' But I had to know what the hell he was talking about, so I made him walk back over with me. We looked at the sign together, and finally he mumbled, 'I didn't see the comma. ~ Bill Konigsberg

The first spring in five free from the rumour of guns across the Channel, a spring anxious to make up for the cold winter, life bursting out after four years of death. All of England raised her face to the sun ... ~ Laurie R. King

For when I speak of the banality of evil, I do so only on the strictly factual level, pointing to a phenomenon which stared one in the face at the trial. Eichmann was not Iago and not Macbeth, and nothing would have been farther from his mind than to determine with Richard III 'to prove a villain.' Except for an extraordinary diligence in looking out for his personal advancement, he had no motives at all… He merely, to put the matter colloquially, never realized what he was doing… It was sheer thoughtlessness - something by no means identical with stupidity - that predisposed him to become one of the greatest criminals of that period. And if this is 'banal' and even funny, if with the best will in the world one cannot extract any diabolical or demonic profundity from Eichmann, this is still far from calling it commonplace… That such remoteness from reality and such thoughtlessness can wreak more havoc than all the evil instincts taken together which, perhaps, are inherent in man - that was, in fact, the lesson one could learn in Jerusalem. ~ Hannah Arendt

But then I'd miss that look on your face." "What look?" "Like you want to kick me and kiss me at the same time," he answered. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I'm anxious to face them (major league pitchers) all, but in reality I'm looking forward most to (Boston's) Pedro Martinez. He was with the major league team that came to Japan in 1996, just before he became a superstar. I'm anxious to see how much he's improved. And I'm anxious to see how much I've improved against him. ~ Ichiro Suzuki

Studio press agents make up anything they want to, and reporters go along with it. One flack created the legend that I had been blown up in an air crash during the war, and my face had to be put back together by way of plastic surgery. If it is a 'bionic face,' why didn't they do a better job of it? ~ Jack Palance

She grinned. "This is the fun part."
She didn't even look, but a moment before the demon hit, massive wings snapped out of her back with lightning speed and a thundercrack, smacking the demon and flicking it over the rooftops like it was a ... gnat.
Okay, so the thesaurus in my head wasn't cranking out the synonyms because I was too busy gawking at the enormous white wings checkered with several feathers the same brilliant blue as her hair and shirt. They fluttered with a whispering grace, sending a soft breeze to cool my sweaty skin.
I blinked when she snapped her fingers in my face.
"Did you hear anything I just said?"
"You have wings?"
She sighed. Her shoulders and wings slumped. "I need you to focus, dear, so listen up. You must stick close to the Hex Boys. They'll protect you whilst - "
"Where did the wings come from? ~ A&E Kirk

You are sweet, O Love, dear Love,You are soft as the nesting dove.Come to my heart and bring it restAs the bird flies home to its welcome nest. ~ Paul Laurence Dunbar

I'd date a fan as long as she didn't scream in my face. ~ Niall Horan

We have found ways ... to torture and maim animals and make their lives a misery, almost a living hell ... in the multinational food industry, ... and in laboratories where often the most important thing being researched is the latest in lipstick or face cream. ~ David

It was always easier to maintain strength for others than to face the demons inside. That's probably why Cameron, on his band's tours through so many borderline places later in life, had always made room for charity. Helping others fostered a sense of control. It made a person feel that some day, he might find the strength to help himself. ~ Johnny B. Truant

There's more, much more, to Christmas Than candlelight and cheer; It's the spirit of sweet friendship That brightens all year. It's thoughtfulness and kindness, It's hope reborn again, For peace, for understanding, And for goodwill to men! ~ Calvin Coolidge

Those lyrics tell the story Dahlia, our story. I wrote that song five years ago and even now when I sing it, your face is the face I see. You're unforgettable Dahlia. You're perfect, really. ~ Kim Karr

No, he would never know his father, who would continue to sleep over there, his face for ever lost in the ashes. There was a mystery about that man, a mystery he had wanted to penetrate. But after all there was only the mystery of poverty that creates beings without names and without a past, that sends them into the vast throng of the nameless dead who made the world while they themselves were destroyed for ever. For it was just that that his father had in common with the men of the Labrador. The Mahon people of the Sahel, the Alsatians on the high plateaus, with this immense island between sand and sea, which the enormous silence was now beginning to envelop: the silence of anonymity; it enveloped blood and courage and work and instinct, it was at once cruel and compassionate. And he who had wanted to escape from the country without name, from the crowd and from a family without a name, but in whom something had gone on craving darkness and anonymity - he too was a member of the tribe, marching blindly into the night near the old doctor who was panting at his right, listening to the gusts of music coming from the square, seeing once more the hard inscrutable faces of the Arabs around the bandstands, Veillard's laughter and his stubborn face - also seeing with a sweetness and a sorrow that wrung his heart the deathly look on his mother's face at the time of the bombing - wandering though the night of the years in the land of oblivion where each one is the first man, where he ~ Albert Camus

I hit him for every single thing that was wrong in my life and kicked him in a fierce fury of madness as he sobbed and covered his face and screamed. I hit him because Walter hit me and I hit him because I hated my life and I hit him because I just wanted to go home and I hit him because I didn't know where home was. ~ John William Tuohy

My father taught me respect for quality as well as a sense of dignity - great values as we face a world going in a different direction. I try to teach my children to stay close to the real things. ~ Diego Della Valle

Bilateral negotiations with a tyrant rarely turn out well for a democracy. Because they are subjected to little accountability, totalitarian regimes face no pressure to honor their word. They are free to break agreements and then make new demands. A democracy has a choice: give in or provoke a confrontation. ~ George W. Bush

Damn it all. "Ascanio!"
The bouda sauntered forward, a picture of pure innocence on his face.
"What the hell are you doing?" I growled.
He pulled on a disarming smile like a shield. "Following you."
"Why?"
"Because."
So help me God, I would brain him with something heavy in a minute. "Because why?"
"I wanted to come. It's too dangerous for you and I'm concerned."
Derek snarled quietly under his breath.
"You can't blame me," Ascanio said. "Anybody in my place would be concerned. You don't even have a proper horse. You're riding a mutant equine of unknown origin. ~ Ilona Andrews

In life you'll face difficulties that postpone some of your dreams. Regardless, life goes fast by reminding us youth is finite and old age is stable. So you mustn't stop dreaming and running while your strength is yet tough. ~ Darmie Orem

I've downed two shots and a tumbler of whiskey by the time Racer and Tucker show up. The House of Reardon, our go-to bar, isn't very far from where we all live, kind of in the middle, but given my race to get some alcohol into my system, I'm a few drinks in already.

"I brought reinforcements," Racer says as he tosses a box of Swiss Rolls in front of me. I can always count on Racer to bring Little Debbie snacks, our sacred lover. "Your text made it seem like you needed to suckle at Debbie's teet tonight."

"I do." I rip open the box, tear open a wrapper, and pop an entire roll in my mouth in seconds.

"I guess so," Racer says, a little astonished.

"Tucker close?"

"Right here," Tucker says, pulling up a chair next to me at the bar. He pats my shoulder and tosses a box of Zebra Cakes in front of me. My boys know me well.

"Zebra Cakes? Dude, I brought Swiss Rolls. Zebra Cakes are piss when it comes to times like this."

"It's all I had left. Emma's been eating all my Nutty Bars."

"Why even buy Zebra Cakes? You know that frosting turns into a paste."

From the corner of my eye, I see Tucker run his hand over his face. "Emma got them. When she shops, she literally doesn't consider which ones she buys; it's just a sweep of her arm over the shelf. Can't complain about that."

"I guess you can't. ~ Meghan Quinn

I hate this plan!" the surveyor was shouting. "The road was perfectly straight. This is a pimple in the face of my road!"
"Get out your equipment and mark us a perfect semicircle," said Arnando, cool as morning dew. "Make the best of it, you geometrical tyrant. ~ Rachel Hartman

When disclosure occurs for a trans woman, whether by choice or by another person, she is often accused of deception because, as the widely accepted misconception goes, trans women are not 'real' women (meaning cis women); therefore, the behavior (whether rejection, verbal abuse, or sever violence) is warranted. The violence that trans women face at the hands of heterosexual cis men can go unchecked and uncharted because society blames trans women for the brutality they face. Similar to arguments around rape, the argument goes that 'she brought it upon herself. ~ Janet Mock

I do not believe that God has given us this trial to not purpose. I know that the day will come when we will clearly understand why this persecution with all it's sufferings has been bestowed upon us -- for everything that Our Lord does is for our good. And yet, even as I write these words I feel the oppressive weight in my heart of those last stammering words of Kichijiro in the morning of his departure: "Why has Deus Sama imposed this suffering on us?" and then the resentment in those eyes that he turned upon me. "Father", he had said "what evil have we done?"

I suppose I should simply cast from my mind these meaningless words of the coward; yet why does his plaintive voice pierce my breast with tall the pain of a sharp needle? Why has Our Lord imposed this torture and this persecution on poor Japanese peasants? No, Kichijiro was trying to express something different, something even more sickening. The silence of God. Already twenty years have passed since the persecution broke out; the black soil of Japan has been filled with the lament of so many Christians; the red blood of priests has flowed profusely; the walls of churches have fallen down; and in the face of this terrible and merciless sacrifice offered up to Him, God has remained silent. ~ Shusaku Endo

Buried how long?"
The answer was always the same: "Almost eighteen years."
You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?"
Long ago."
You know that you are recalled to life?"
They tell me so."
I hope that you care to live?"
I can't say."
Shall I show her to you? Will you come and see her?"
The answers to this question were various and contradictory. Sometimes the broken reply was, "Wait! It would kill me if I saw her too soon." Sometimes it was given in a tender rain of tears, and then it was, "Take me to her." Sometimes it was staring and bewildered, and then it was, "I don't know her. I don't understand."
After such imaginary discourse, the passenger in his fancy would dig, and dig, dig – to dig this wretched creature out. Got out at last, with earth hanging about his face and hair, he would suddenly fall away to dust. The passenger would then start to himself, and lower the window, to get the reality of mist and rain on his cheek.
Yet even when his eyes were opened on the mist and rain, on the moving patch of light from the lamps, and the hedge of the roadside retreating by jerks, the night shadows outside the coach would fall into the train of night shadows within. Out of the midst in them, a ghostly face would rise, and he would accost it again.
Buried how long?"
Almost eighteen years."
I hope you care to live?"
I can't say."
Dig – dig – dig – until an impatient movement from one of the two pas ~ Charles Dickens

Ants always eat sweet food ... but none of them haven't diabetes ? ~ Ali Ghasaby

Clive was losing sensation in his feet, and as he stamped them the rhythm gave him back the ten note falling figure, ritardando, a cor anglais, and rising softly against it, contrapuntally, cellos in mirror image. Her face in it. The end. ~ Ian McEwan

California club pop chirper Dev's debut is as stark as it is sweet. This is owed partly to the casually giddy lightness of her talk-singing - familiar from her slizzered 2010 cameo on Far East Movement's smash 'Like a G6,' and around-the way-girl frisky like 1980s Latin freestyle. ~ Chuck Eddy

Not at all,' said Moon-Face, leading them up a little lane through the ~ Enid Blyton

What the Dalai Lama and I are offering," the Archbishop added, "is a way of handling your worries: thinking about others. You can think about others who are in a similar situation or perhaps even in a worse situation, but who have survived, even thrived. It does help quite a lot to see yourself as part of a greater whole." Once again, the path of joy was connection and the path of sorrow was separation. When we see others as separate, they become a threat. When we see others as part of us, as connected, as interdependent, then there is no challenge we cannot face - together. ~ Desmond Tutu

There is an elegance to knowing who you are that will help you unfold a sweet tolerance for yourself. Knowing and liking yourself will then allow you to be kind and compassionate to others, deeply aware that they want the same things: love and contentment. ~ Margaux Bergen

Are there any who don't heal?"
Christian's throat tightened at her question - that she would be so compassionate, when any other lady of her stature would be demanding the lives of the men who had assaulted her. It was something his mother would have done. "Unfortunately, aye. There are always some who can't adjust. Some kill themselves once they arrive home. A few have gone mad, and some, such as the Scot, live in perpetual torment and seclusion from the world."
She reached up to place her fingertips to his lips as she stared up at him with a warm, tender expression. "I wish you had come home to me so that I could have helped you."
He pulled the cloth away from her face and stared at her for a hard second. "Had I known what was waiting for me, my lady, I would have."
-Adara & Christian ~ Kinley MacGregor

He looked at the piles of food again, and it was like he was seeing it with new eyes. "This is wrong", he thought, "Letting food rot while people die of hunger. It's evil." ...
He breathed in the too-sweet smell of rotting food, "I can stop this evil. ~ Margaret Peterson Haddix

The greatest location in the world is the human face. ~ John Cassavetes

The night following the reading, Gansey woke up to a completely unfamiliar sound and fumbled for his glasses. It sounded a little like one of his roommates was being killed by a possum, or possibly the final moments of a fatal cat fight. He wasn't certain of the specifics, but he was sure death was involved.
Noah stood in the doorway to his room, his face pathetic and long-suffering. "Make it stop," he said.
Ronan's room was sacred, and yet here Gansey was, twice in the same weak, pushing the door open. He found the lamp on and Ronan hunched on the bed, wearing only boxers. Six months before, Ronan had gotten the intricate black tattoo that covered most of his back and snaked up his neck, and now the monochromatic lines of it were stark in the claustrophobic lamplight, more real than anything else in the room. It was a peculiar tattoo, both vicious and lovely, and every time Gansey saw it, he saw something different in the pattern. Tonight, nestled in an inked glen of wicked, beautiful flowers, was a beak where before he'd seen a scythe.
The ragged sound cut through the apartment again.
"What fresh hell is this?" Gansey asked pleasantly. Ronan was wearing headphones as usual, so Gansey stretched forward far enough to tug them down around his neck. Music wailed faintly into the air.
Ronan lifted his head. As he did, the wicked flowers on his back shifted and hid behind his sharp shoulder blades. In his lap was the half-formed raven, its head tilted bac ~ Maggie Stiefvater

But you are alone. Yet I never tell what you are. And if your face lights up my world as no other can - well, this feeling too, when viewed as the mere psychologist has to view it, appears to be simply what all the other friends report about their friends. ~ Josiah Royce

Roan studied the photo in his hand. Shiloh Gallagher
had to be twenty-nine years old according to what Maud
had told him. Damned if she didn't look twenty-five or so,
her features unlined. She wasn't model pretty, but she had
an arresting face, with huge intelligent-looking green eyes.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and he felt himself stir. Her
mouth would make any man go crazy. Her upper lip was
full, but thinner than her lower one. The shape of her mouth
made him feel heat in his lower body. "Is she married?"

"No," Maud said. She's single. Never did marry. I don't know why. Shiloh's
a beautiful girl."

She was hardly a girl, but Roan said nothing because he
was fully reacting to her as a woman. He wondered if she
was curvy or rail thin. He was disgruntled over his avid
curiosity. "I have no problem with it. You know I get up
early and come in late. She's going to have to fend for herself.
I'm not cooking for her."

"Right," Maud agreed. "She's pretty shaken up, Roan.
You might find that stressful until, hopefully, Shiloh will
start to relax."

Shrugging, he slid the photo onto the desk. "Maud, I just
hope I don't stress her out with my award-winning personality,"
he said, and he cracked a small, sour grin.

Maud cackled. "I think you'll like her, Roan. She's a
very kind person. An introvert like you. Just remembe ~ Lindsay McKenna

Kindness is willing to look in the face of the hurting. ~ Beth Moore

I spent most of my youth hauling sides of beef and pork to my father's shop. Carrying you is far more enjoyable."
"How sweet," Annabelle mumbled sickly, her eyes closed. "Every woman dreams of being told that she's preferable to a dead cow. ~ Lisa Kleypas