Take His Crap Quotes

"I'm staying here," I whispered down. "I'll keep an aerial eye out for trouble."
"I'm coming with you," Chloe said.
Derek tried to stop her. She said it made sense for her to be in the trees with me in case of a ground attack, and that convinced him. Not that it mattered, I think - she'd have done what she wanted. She obviously didn't take his crap. Still, it would drive me crazy, constantly needing to remind my boyfriend that I could handle myself just fine. My brother was bad enough. ~ Kelley Armstrong

In the early grey of the morning they reached the headquarter of General Genarius and found him working in a mountain of paperwork. Joey and Maya informed the general in detail about Libertine's report. General Genarius closed his eyes and thought for a long moment until he said, "Wait a minute! Are you telling me that you want to enter the belly of darkness and liberate the mermaids and the unicorns?"
"Yes Sir, we are determined to attack the center of demonic powers and believe in the great opportunity to liberate the mermaids and the unicorns from the cruel grip of the Empire!" Maya said.
"Dangerous, dangerous…but the more I think about it, the more I can see that it could really work. However…this mission has to be well organized and of course…you must find the secret door to the Underworld… in time or you will be in big trouble. It is very risky but I will support this venture! Let me share with you some of my ideas and how this attempt could work. Take your six unicorns, all the equipment you need and leave the city of Selinka as soon as possible with Captain Goran and my assistant Captain Armstrong. You must cross the Thordis River behind the city, stay close to the Lagoon and move directly east from there. Let me take my map and show you exactly the way and… let me talk to Captain Armstrong. He is indeed a man with a strong arm, a clear mind in battle and he knows the way to Duanes Gate very well because his family lives somewhere in that area. ~ Gloria Maradonia

What's that you're doing, Sassenach?"

"Making out little Gizmo's birth certificate--so far as I can," I added.

"Gizmo?" he said doubtfully. "That will be a saint's name?"

"I shouldn't think so, though you never know, what with people named Pantaleon and Onuphrius. Or Ferreolus."

"Ferreolus? I dinna think I ken that one." He leaned back, hands linked over his knee.

"One of my favorites," I told him, carefully filling in the birthdate and time of birth--even that was an estimate, poor thing. There were precisely two bits of unequivocal information on this birth certificate--the date and the name of the doctor who's delivered him.

"Ferreolus," I went on with some new enjoyment, "is the patron saint of sick poultry. Christian martyr. He was a Roman tribune and a secret Christian. Having been found out, he was chained up in the prison cesspool to await trial--I suppose the cells must have been full. Sounds rather daredevil; he slipped his chains and escaped through the sewer. They caught up with him, though, dragged him back and beheaded him."

Jamie looked blank.

"What has that got to do wi' chickens?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Take it up with the Vatican," I advised him.

"Mmphm. Aye, well, I've always been fond of Saint Guignole, myself." I could see the glint in his eye, but couldn't resist.

"And what's he the patron of?"

"He's involved against ~ Diana Gabaldon

For the taking of revenge, a man locks himself up alone and thinks. His stomach must be empty for his head to be full. Vengeance comes a little from the heart and a lot from the mind; one must take oneself apart from the noise of men and of things, even from what resembles them; only the voices of bells and of thunder are allowed. Let the room in which you meditate be dark, narrow and warm. ~ Xavier Forneret

Take your age the first time a stranger touched
your body with danger in his hands,
evil-minded...

But it's not usually a stranger, is it< ~ Laurie Halse Anderson

The prints shop manager, a balding man of about thirty years old, dressed in a plaid work shirt and faded jeans, looked very shocked when he saw the headline text. "Sydney Tar Ponds, Is It As Dangerous As People Say? Well," he exclaimed, glancing at the front photo, which featured the Sydney Steel Corporation, along with its plumes of orange smog. "You know, most people your age are really against that mill, as if it's a disease. We have university students protesting every few weeks or so… strangely enough, the ones who have parents who rely on that steel mill to pay the bills."

"What about the pollution?" Wendy questioned, almost accusingly, as if it was his fault. "What if dangerous chemicals are in the environment?"

"Hey kid, I don't even work at the mill, never have, but my father, my uncle, their father, cousins, all worked there," the prints shop man argued, placing the newspapers in a cardboard box and taping it shut. "When it comes down to all that 'go green' crap, you have to ask yourself, is it worth risking a person's income, their job, their family… their life? I'm not saying you're wrong, but these newspapers might have a point. ~ Rebecca McNutt

Masquerades disclose the reality of souls. As long as no one sees who we are, we can tell the most intimate details of our life. I sometimes muse over this sketch of a story about a man afflicted by one of those personal tragedies born of extreme shyness who one day, while wearing a mask I don't know where, told another mask all the most personal, most secret, most unthinkable things that could be told about his tragic and serene life. And since no outward detail would give him away, he having disguised even his voice, and since he didn't take careful note of whoever had listened to him, he could enjoy the ample sensation of knowing that somewhere in the world there was someone who knew him as not even his closest and finest friend did. When he walked down the street he would ask himself if this person, or that one, or that person over there might not be the one to whom he'd once, wearing a mask, told his most private life. Thus would be born in him a new interest in each person, since each person might be his only, unknown confidant. ~ Fernando Pessoa

If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends; for when did friendship take
A breed for barren metal of his friend? ~ William Shakespeare

You take control, Emma," he whispered. The words tickled her ear, he spoke them so close. Shivers raced down her neck, down her chest and her belly. "Take control of me. Come to me." Her neck arched, wanting his mouth to bite her. "If you do Emma, I may give you what you want. Or I may offer more than you can handle. Risk. That's what you like, isn't it? So play with fire. Play with me. ~ Victoria Dahl

A murmur passed through the Clan, and Bluefur wondered if he'd overheard the elders talking about inviting Goosefeather to give up his duties and join them beneath the fallen tree. The old medicine cat was standing with his fur on end and his eyes mad, glaring at nothing. It seemed like it might be a kindness to set him free from his responsibilities and let his denmate take over. ~ Erin Hunter

I know little of my past, but almost from the beginning of my imprisonment I have known of you. I waited. I called you to my side. I hated you for allowing my suffering to continue.
She caught his face in her hands, suddenly anxious that he believe her. "I didn't know. I swear to you, I didn't know. I never would have left you there." Grief clogged her throat that she had not somehow ended his suffering sooner. What was it about him that drew her like a magnet, that captivated her and made her want to ease his pain? The urge was so strong in her, so intense, she could hardly bear to see him lying so vulnerable and shattered.
I know you speak the truth; you cannot lie to me. It was a courageous thing you did, rescuing me. But as your lifemate I can do no other than forbid you to ever take such a risk again. ~ Christine Feehan

He was right across the desk, and I wanted him to take me like his little vanilla whore. ~ C.D. Reiss

Once someone's dead, being sorry doesn't cut it. If you hit a man, you can apologize. If you destroy his property, you can pay him back. But if you take his life, there's nothing you can ever do to make that right. Do you understand? ~ William Kent Krueger

Approaching forty, George felt as though his world had been slowly drained of all its colors. He'd passed that age when he could reasonably expect to fall madly in love with someone and raise a family, or to take the world by storm, or to have anything surprising lift him out of his day-to-day existence. ~ Peter Swanson

Footsteps approach the kitchen. Garrett wanders in, wiping sweat off his brow. When he notices Sabrina, he brightens. "Oh good. You're here. Hold on - gotta grab something."

She turns to me as if to say, Is he talking to me?

He's already gone, though, his footsteps thumping up the stairs.

At the table, Hannah runs a hand through her hair and gives me a pleading look. "Just remember he's your best friend, okay?"

That doesn't sound ominous.

When Garrett returns, he's holding a notepad and a ballpoint pen, which he sets on the table as he sits across from Sabrina. "Tuck," he says. "Sit. This is important."

I'm so baffled right now. Hannah's resigned expression doesn't help in lessening the confusion.

Once I'm seated next to Sabrina, Garrett flips open the notepad, all business. "Okay. So let's go over the names."

Sabrina raises an eyebrow at me.

I shrug, because I legitimately don't know what the fuck he's talking about.

"I've put together a solid list. I really think you're going to like these." But when he glances down at the page, his face falls. "Ah crap. We can't use any of the boy names."

"Wait." Sabrina holds up a hand, her brow furrowed. "You're picking names for our baby?"

He nods, busy flipping the page.

My baby mama gapes at me.

I shrug again.

"Just out of curiosity, what were the boy names?" Grace hedges, ~ Elle Kennedy

I shook my head at Janco. "I've got the situation under control. Go back to the Keep, I'll meet you there."
Janco stared at me in astonished silence. Ari, though, trusted me. "Come on, she doesn't need our help." Ari sheathed his sword. Janco recovered. He flashed me one of his mischievous grins. "I'll bet you a copper that she'll be free in five minutes," he said to Ari.
Ari grunted in amusement. "A silver on ten minutes," he countered.
"I'll bet you both a gold coin that she kills him," Valek said
from behind them. They moved aside and he entered, still dressed in his Adviser Ilom disguise. "The only way to take care of your problem. Right, love? ~ Maria V. Snyder

Daily study of the scriptures is [an] important family activity. I remember when my son was seven years old. He was taking a shower one night during a storm when we lost the power in our home. My wife called to him and told him to hurry to finish his shower and to then take a candle and come slowly downstairs for our family prayer. She warned him to be careful to not drop the candle on the carpet because it could start a fire and the house could burn down. Several minutes later he came down the stairs struggling to hold the candle in one hand, and with his other arm he was carrying his scriptures. His mother asked him why he was bringing his scriptures. His answer to her was 'Mom, if the house burns down, I must save my scriptures!' We knew that our efforts to help him to love the scriptures had been planted in his heart forever. ~ Claudio Costa

The belief that science proceeds from observation to theory is still so widely and so firmly held that my denial of it is often met with incredulity. I have even been suspected of being insincere- of denying what nobody in his senses would doubt.
But in fact the belief that we can start with pure observation alone, without anything in the nature of a theory is absurd; as may be illustrated by the story of the man who dedicated his life to natural science, wrote down everything he could observe, and bequeathed his priceless collection of observations to the Royal Society to be used as evidence. This story should show us that though beetles may profitably be collected, observations may not.
Twenty-five years ago I tried to bring home the same point to a group of physics students in Vienna by beginning a lecture with the following instructions : 'Take pencil and paper; carefully observe, and write down what you have observed!' They asked, of course, what I wanted them to observe. Clearly the instruction, 'Observe!' is absurd. (It is not even idiomatic, unless the object of the transitive verb can be taken as understood.) Observation is always selective. It needs a chosen object, a definite task, an interest, a point of view, a problem. And its description presupposes a descriptive language, with property words; it presupposes similarity and classification, which in their turn presuppose interests, points of view, and problems. ~ Karl Popper

D'you think he knew the Ministry would confiscate his will and examine everything he'd left us?" asked Harry.
"Definitely," said Hermione. "He couldn't tell us in the will why he was leaving us these things, but that still doesn't explain…"
"…why he couldn't have given us a hint when he was alive?" asked Ron.
"Well, exactly," said Hermione, now flicking through The Tales of Beedle the Bard. "If these things are important enough to pass on right under the nose of the Ministry, you'd think he'd have let us know why…unless he thought it was obvious?"
"Thought wrong, then, didn't he?" said Ron. "I always said he was mental. Brilliant and everything, but cracked. Leaving Harry an old Snitch--what the hell was that about?"
"I've no idea," said Hermione. "When Scrimgeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen!"
"Yeah, well," said Harry, his pulse quickening as he raised the Snitch in his fingers. "I wasn't going to try too hard in front of Scrimgeour, was I?"
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.
"The Snitch I caught in my first every Quidditch match?" said Harry. "Don't you remember?"
Hermione looked simply bemused. Ron, however, gasped, pointing frantically from Harry to the Snitch and back again until he found his voice.
"That was the one you nearly swallowed!"
"Exactly," said Harry, and with his heart beating fast, he pressed his mouth to the Snitch. ~ J.K. Rowling

Get me your manager." Dove held her head high and tried to seem older and more self-assured.
The teenager barely registered her request.
"Do it now. My friend here is about to crap his pants. Do you want to smell it?" Dove slapped her hands down on the counter, snapping the life into the girl. "Do you want to smell his shit? ~ Debra Anastasia

The idea is to take the most ordinary things and make them extraordinary, as Gerard Manley Hopkins does in his poems. ~ Alfonso A. Ossorio

Doc fell in to a car convoy, moving slowly, single lane through the fog. He figured if he missed the Gordita Beach exit, he'd take the first one whose sign he could read and work his way back on surface streets. He knew that at Rosecrans, the freeway began to dogleg east, and at some point, Hawthorne Boulevard or Artesia,he'd lose the fog, unless it was spreading tonight, and settled in region wide... Maybe then it would stay this way for days, maybe he'd have to just keep driving, down past Long Beach, down through Orange County, and San Diego and across a border where nobody could
tell anymore in the fog who was Mexican, who was Anglo, who was anybody. Then again, he might run out of gas before that happened, and have to leave the caravan, and pull over on the shoulder, and wait. For whatever would happen. For a forgotten joint to
materialize in his pocket. For the CHP to come by and choose not to hassle him. For a restless blonde in a Stingray to stop and offer him a ride. For the fog to burn off, and for something else this time, somehow, to be there instead. ~ Thomas Pynchon

One of the Pima warriors on seeing the fire-arms used by the white soldiers, thought that the next time he went over to the [Maricopa] Wells, he would take his war weapons along and show them to the white soldiers. So the next time he went, he took along his war-club and shield. The soldiers on seeing his weapons, laughed and made all sorts of remarks as to the effective use of such weapons. The joking went on until the Pima made a challenge to the white man. He said:
'You, white warrior
Take shooting iron.
Stand here ready.
I take war club and shield,
Step off ten paces,
Turn around, come back.
If you see any part of me,
Shoot!'
The White soldier stood there with gun in hand while the Pima walked away ten paces, turned around and came back hiding behind the shield so well that no part of his body could be seen. The white soldier did not shoot as the Pima came up to him. With the edge of his shield the Pima knocked the gun out of the soldier's hand. He lifted his war club as if he was about to use it. But the soldier took to his heels and ran into a nearby house, closing the door after him.
The people who saw this had a good laugh and no such challenge was ever made again.
Sometimes there would be shooting contests between Pimas and whites, Pimas with their bows and arrows and the whites with their firearms. They would place a target at different distances and see who could hit the bull's eye. The Pimas often won the ma ~ George Webb

When fog is dense, everything slows down because you can't see. If I cast a fog over the land, it will quickly fall in its superiority. The people will rise up and blame my brother for their problems. He will become afraid of them and will fear for his life. Unless he changes, the surrounding lands will also take advantage of his weakness and attack. ~ L.R.W. Lee

He pulled the Carstairs family ring from his finger and held it out to Will. "Take it."
Will let his eyes drift down toward it, and then up to Jem's face. A dozen awful things he could say, or do, went through his mind. One did not slough off a persona so quickly, he had found. He had pretended to be cruel for so many years that the pretense was still what he reached for first, as a man might absently turn his carriage toward the home he had lived in for all his life, despite the fact that he had recently moved. "You wish to marry me now?" he said, at last. ~ Cassandra Clare

When a man acts in ways that annoy us we wish to think him wicked, and we refuse to face the fact that his annoying behavior is the result of antecedent causes which, if you follow them long enough, will take you beyond the moment of his birth, and therefore to events for which he cannot be held responsible by any stretch of imagination ... When a motorcar fails to start, we do not attribute its annoying behavior to sin, we do not say, you are a wicked motorcar, and you shall not have any more gasoline until you go. ~ Bertrand Russell

The thing about caller ID is," Red said, more or less to himself, "it seems a little like cheating. A person should be willing to take his chances, answering the phone. ~ Anne Tyler

There used to be a time when it took nothing but a knowing smile and a sultry voice to get him so hard he could drill his dick into a wall. And it used to take even less for him to fuck and lose himself for a little while.
Now?
Not so much. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Alessandro shrugged and pushed the blade in, dragging it down the man's skin, making him cry out. He struck him again with his fist, blood spurting onto Alessandro as well. "Did Arturo tell you that the mother of my child was in that limo? She's carrying my baby inside of her, and that her son was in the limo too? I'm sure he did. I'm sure he left explicit instructions as to who exactly you were supposed to dispose of, didn't he?"
"He'll kill me. I swear, he'll kill me," the man cried, tears mixing in with his
blood.
"Next, I'll take an eye, you snivelling little shit!" Alessandro growled, raising his bloody blade to the man's left eyeball. The unmistakable scent of urine filled the air.
Alessandro stepped back in disgust and turned to Jason and his other man, Marty, two of the best Dardano soldiers, loyal and efficient. They took his cue and slipped on their brass knuckles.
"Just say the words, ol' boy, and we'll stop this,"
"Fuck you," the man shouted.
Alessandro smirked. "Such defiance for a man who just pissed himself." He crossed his arms as Marty and Jason went to work.
It only took a minute. "All right. Okay! Stop! Stop! Fine, I'll talk! ~ E. Jamie

He nodded. "You ... You enjoy having the freedom to do what you please, and you love life." It was not a question this time, but a statement. "And take pleasure in simple things." Sarah nodded, content to let him explain his perception of her. "Let me see," he continued. "You like to read, and ... oh! You have a passion for horses unlike any I have ever seen in a lady and in only a few men. ~ Jennifer K. Clark

My father didn't take the sword for me. he took it for him. I doubt he even knew about the trial."
"How awfully convenient for you, regardless. And for him. He won't have to worry about you spilling his secrets."
"Yeah," Jace said, "he's terrified I'll tell everyone that's he's always really wanted to be a ballerina." The Inquisitor simply stared at him. ~ Cassandra Clare

It had taken Nikki years to rehabilitate herself from a mortal attraction to cowboys. After being burned about a dozen times, she thought herself finally impervious - until this one flashed his irritatingly irresistible grin. She reminded herself that she was immune to his kind of rustic charm - but crystal-blue eyes and a chin dimple. Holy crap!
Why did her would-be lawyer have to be a incredibly hot cowboy? ~ Victoria Vane

I let go of my remorse...of wanting to fix his problems and cure his pain. This seems like such a common female thing, to lose oneself completely when trying to take care of others, but really, it is just another form of control, one that grants no faith in the other person and denies that they have the power and ability to help themselves. ~ Shreve Stockton

Solin seemed to take his brother's challenge in stride as he
turned to Geary. "So tell me, lovely lady, where on earth did
you happen to find my wayward brother?"
She glanced at Arik over her shoulder to see him watching
her before she answered.
"Floating in the sea, but he won't tell me how it is he came to
be there."
"Knowing Arik, I'm sure he angered someone who threw him
in, hoping he'd drown."
"Actually they threw me in hoping I'd land on someone else
and drown them.
Unfortunately, you swam away too fast. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Is that it?" he demanded, in sudden rage. "Is that all that matters? Not that I am in love and tumbled like a fool into sin. Not that I can never be happy, married to a snake and in love with a heartbreaker, but only, only, that Mistress Anne Boleyn's reputation must be without blemish." At once she flew at him, her hands spread like claws, and he caught her wrists before she could rake his face. "Look at me!" she hissed. "Didn't I give up my only love, didn't I break my heart? Didn't you tell me then that it was worth the price?" He held her away but she was unstoppable. "Look at Mary! Didn't we take her from her husband and me from mine? And now you have to give up someone too. You have to lose the great love of your life, as I have lost mine, as Mary lost hers. Don't whimper to me about heartbreak, you murdered my love and we buried it together and now it is gone." George ~ Philippa Gregory

When God anoints a person, a pattern of testing appears to take place at specific times in the leader's life. God often takes each leader through four major tests to determine if that person will achieve God's ultimate call on his or her life. The person's response to these tests is the deciding factor in whether they can advance to the next level of responsibility in God's Kingdom. ~ Os Hillman

A black bird of guilt hovers over the death of a man, waiting to perch where it may find room in the minds that remain. It is an easy thing to be deceived by the happenings of the world into believing you are responsible for them. It is part of man's great conceit that he can believe himself responsible for the universe and its actions. It is a part of his conceit that he can believe himself guilty of the death of every other man, and take the guilt of the world on himself.

But there is no guilt to be taken. it is not necessary that the responsibility be assigned. It is not the concern of those who remain, but a thing between the world and the one who is dead. that which was, is not. It is a simple thing. ~ Don Berry

A Christian people doesn't mean a lot of goody-goodies. The Church has plenty of stamina, and isn't afraid of sin. On the contrary, she can look it in the face calmly and even take it upon herself, assume it at times, as Our Lord did. When a good workman's been at it for a whole week, surely he's due for a booze on Saturday night. Look: I'll define you a Christian people by the opposite. The opposite of a Christian people is a people grown sad and old. You'll be saying that isn't a very theological definition. I agree...

Why does our earliest childhood always seem so soft and full of light? A kid's got plenty of troubles, like everybody else, and he's really so very helpless, quite unarmed against pain and illness. Childhood and old age should be the two greatest trials of mankind. But that very sense of powerlessness is the mainspring of a child's joy. He just leaves it all to his mother, you see. Present, past, future -- his whole life is caught up in one look, and that look is a smile. Well, lad, if only they'd let us have our way, the Church might have given men that supreme comfort. Of course they'd each have their own worries to grapple with, just the same. Hunger, thirst, poverty, jealousy -- we'd never be able to pocket the devil once and for all, you may be sure. But man would have known he was the son of God; and therein lies your miracle. He'd have lived, he'd have died with that idea in his noddle -- and not just a notion picked up in books either -- oh ~ Georges Bernanos