The Wayward Gifted Quotes

You understand. I don't know. I am not sure how I would feel in your shoes. My mother wanted me. ~ Donna K. Childree

You were tossed away like a pair of beautiful, brand new shoes that did not quite fit. ~ Donna K. Childree

In a book published at the time, a lace manufacturer admitted that he expected his workers to turn a few tricks on the side to make up for his not paying them a living wage. Soon lace, including crocheted lace, began to be seen as morally tainted - it's made by prostitutes! As Donna Kooler suggests in The Encyclopedia of Crochet, this may even explain how the word "hooker" came to have such wayward connotations. ~ Debbie Stoller

I catch only when he says my name, but otherwise have to trust that he's relaying everything accurately. I imagine it goes something like, The sex was great and then we got married and now she's here! Help me! She won't stop throwing up, it's incredibly awkward. Her name is MIA HOLLAND. Is there a service by which we ship wayward American girls back to the states? ~ Christina Lauren

Plowing through life, you're bound to run into obstructions. Some of life's trials result from mistakes and missteps, and some from poor choices. I know about that too, because I've made my share of blunders and had to face the consequences.
Other times, the unexpected lands in your hands like a wayward ball and the "trouble" coming at you is like a 250-pound linebacker blitzing straight off the edge.
~ Jake Byrne

From time to time I have come across personalities stuck in dilemmas. They were so enmeshed into the pain or drama that even death did not ease the pain. Ghosts are earthbound, with some issue or trouble holding them down. Surprisingly, sometimes this wayward journey was experienced before and after death. ~ Stephen Poplin

I Loved Him

I loved how his eyes danced merrily,
and the gentle way he spoke;
the way he filled my aimless days,
with bitterness and hope.
I loved him as I fell to sleep,
and each morning as I woke;
I loved him with all my wayward heart -
until the day it broke. ~ Lang Leav

Let me guess - you're Grumpy?'
He let out a humpf. ' And you would be too, if you'd just spent the last hour searching the forest for your wayward charge.' He walked even faster. 'We tell you to stay inside, we tell you not to talk to strangers. But oh no, you must be out singing to the animals as if the birds didn't do a fine enough job of it. And this after Queen Neferia has already tried to kill you thrice. [ ... ] Which is why you are not to go shopping anymore, no matter how pretty the wares, remember?'
Oh, right.'
[ ... ] when you looked at it that way, Snow White had to be pretty idiotic to keep falling for the same trick. ~ Janette Rallison

And on the night before he suffers the worst that wayward human culture can do, this is what he does: he takes bread and wine into his hands, lifts them up, and blesses them. Bread and wine, not wheat and grapes. Bread and wine are culture, not just nature. They are good for food and a delight to the eyes. Jesus takes culture, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to his friends. Taken, broken, blessed, and given, these cultural goods, these "creatures of bread and wine" as the old prayer book had it, become sign and presence of God in the world. ~ W. David O. Taylor

Humanity had chosen the land over the sea millennia ago, and sometimes - when she let her mind wander, when she was romanticizing what she did and how she did it - she thought the sea still held a grudge. Breakups were never easy, and while humanity was hot and fast and had had plenty of time to get over it, the oceans were deep and slow, and for them all change had happened only yesterday. The seas did not forgive, and they did not welcome their wayward children home. ~ Mira Grant

If Peter was nine, and a new boy came to St. Norbert's Home for Wayward Boys who said he was ten, why, then, Peter would declare himself eleven. Also, he could spit the farthest. That made him the undisputed leader. ~ Dave Barry

Cats were often familiars to workers of magic because to anyone used to wrestling with self-willed, wayward, devious magic
which was what all magic was
it was rather soothing to have all the same qualities wrapped up in a small, furry, generally attractive bundle that ... might, if it were in a good mood, sit on your knee and purr. Magic never sat on anybody's knee and purred. ~ Robin McKinley

Of what I learned at Yale," writes Lewis Lapham, "I learned in what I now remember as one long, wayward conversation in the only all-night restaurant on Chapel Street. The topics under discussion - God, man, existence, Alfred Prufrock's peach - were borrowed from the same anthology of large abstraction that supplied the texts for English 10 or Philosophy 116." The classroom is the grain of sand; it's up to you to make the pearl. ~ William Deresiewicz

Soul searching? Aren't you a little young to even think about
that concept?"
"I don't think a broken heart and shattered soul can be defined
by age. However, it can be measured by the process it takes to
heal. ~ Elle A. Rose

Try looking at your mind as a wayward puppy that you are trying to paper train. You don't drop-kick a puppy into the neighbor's yard every time it piddles on the floor. You just keep bringing it back to the newspaper. ~ Anne Lamott

He thought of all the quaint Victorian houses in Wayward Pines and of all the families who lived inside them. How many residents - inmates - kept up a strong, carefree countenance during the day, but then lay awake at night, sleepless, minds racing, terrified and struggling to comprehend why they'd been locked away in this scenic prison? He imagined more than a few. But human beings were, if nothing else, adaptable. ~ Blake Crouch

The spicy sweet fragrance of the large full blooms, which rambled over the side and top of an arched metal framework, welcomed them as they walked beneath them. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy, dust motes floating languorously in the golden beams that spotlighted clumps of wayward snowdrops growing in the lawn. ~ Ellen Read

Because it did used to be cool, super-cool, in fact - she was our Magellan, our Marco Polo, one of the wayward Walker women whose restless boundless spirit propels her from place to place, love to love, moment to unpredictable moment. ~ Jandy Nelson

So what happened to the comma in this process? Well, between the 16th century and the present day, it became a kind of scary grammatical sheepdog. As we shall shortly see, the comma has so many jobs as a 'separator' (punctuation marks are traditionally either 'separators' or 'terminators') that it tears about on the hillside of language, endlessly organising words into sensible groups and making them stay put: sorting and dividing; circling and herding; and of course darting off with a peremptory 'woof' to round up any wayward subordinate clause that makes a futile bolt for semantic freedom. Commas, if you don't whistle at them to calm down, are unstoppably enthusiastic at this job. Luckily the trend in the 20th century (starting with H. W. Fowler's The King's English in 1906) has been towards ever-simpler punctuation, with fewer and fewer commas; but take any passage from a non-contemporary writer and you can't help seeing the constituent words as so many defeated sheep that have been successfully corralled with the gate slammed shut by good old Comma the Sheepdog. ~ Lynne Truss

You're often looking at writing from writers who, for the most part, are working in forms that traditionally fit into other genres. But sometimes, in the midst of their better-known stuff, there's this wayward thing, and because it's wayward it isn't considered representative of their work, so it falls through the cracks. ~ John D'Agata

Could it be that Americans are a restless people, a mobile people, never satisfied with where they are as a matter of selection? The pioneers, the immigrants who peopled the continent, were the restless ones in Europe. The steady rooted ones stayed home and are still there. But every one of us ... are descended from the restless ones, the wayward ones who were not content to stay at home. Wouldn't it be unusual if we had not inherited this tendency? And the fact is that we have. ~ John Steinbeck

I tought I looked cool behind the wheel, I wasn't prepared for Baz. I wouldn't be able to look away from him, if there wasn't so much else to take in. ~ Wayward Son, Rainbow Rowell

Marian was right. I was the Wayward. It was my job to find what was lost.
Who was lost. ~ Kami Garcia

In how many families do you hear the legend that all the goodness and graces of the living are nothing to the peculiar charms of one who is not. It is as if heaven had an especial band of angels, whose office it was to sojourn for a season here, and endear to them the wayward human heart, that they might bear it upward with them in their homewoard flight. When you see that deep, spiritual light in the eye,
when the little soul reveals itself in words sweeter and wiser than the ordinary words of children,
hope not to retain that child, for the seal of heaven is on it, and the light of immortality looks out from its eyes. ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe

Sure, Lena gets the credit for being the most powerful Caster of all time. Whatever. It doesn't make me any less excellent. Neither does her too-good-to-be-true Mortal boyfriend, Ethan "the Wayward" Wate, who defeats Darkness in the name of true love every day of the week. ~ Kami Garcia

His contempt for humanity grew fiercer, and at last he came to realize that the world is made up mostly of fools and scoundrels. It became perfectly clear to him that he could entertain no hope of finding in someone else the same aspirations and antipathies; no hope of linking up with a mind which, like his own, took pleasure in a life of studious decrepitude; no hope of associating an intelligence as sharp and wayward as his own with any author or scholar. ~ Joris-Karl Huysmans

I can't see why you should want to dance with me now, when you never have before." The statement was more revealing than she had intended it to be. She cursed her own wayward tongue, while his speculative gaze wandered over her face.

"I wanted to," he surprised her by murmuring. "However, there always seemed to be good reasons not to."

"Why--"

"Besides," Westcliff interrupted, reaching out to take her gloved hand, "there was hardly a point in asking when your refusal was a forgone conclusion." Deftly he pressed her hand to his arm and led her toward the mass of couples in the center of the room.

"It was not a forgone conclusion."

Westcliff glanced at her skeptically. "You're saying that you would have accepted me?"

"I might have."

"I doubt it."

"I did just now, didn't I?"

"You had to. It was a debt of honor."

She couldn't help but laugh. "For what, my lord?"

"The calf's head," he reminded her succinctly.

"Well, if you hadn't served such a nasty object in the first place, I wouldn't have needed to be rescued!"

"You wouldn't have need to be rescued if you didn't have such a weak stomach."

"You're not supposed to mention body parts in front of a lady," she said virtuously. "Your mother said so."

Westcliff grinned. "I stand corrected. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Writing poetry is such an intense experience that it helps to start the process in a casual or wayward frame of mind. ~ Edward Hirsch

Everything in her life, she could see now, had taken the same turn - as for love, she often puzzled and puzzled, without ever allowing herself to be fully sad, as to what could be wrong with the formula. It does not work, she thought. At times there were moments when she asked herself if she could have been in the wrong: she would almost rather think that. What she thought she regretted was her lack of guard, her wayward extravagance - but had she all the time been more guarded than she imagined, had she been deceitful, had she been seen through? For what had always happened she could still not account. There seemed to be some way she did not know of by which people managed to understand each other. ~ Elizabeth Bowen

Magnus shrugged. It is not my responsibility now, nor will it ever be my responsibility, to manage wayward Shadowhunters. In fact, I am not sure why I am to blame. I spent the night in the library waiting for Will to come and talk to me, which he never did. Eventually I fell asleep in the Rabies and Lycanthropy section. Woolsey bites on occasion, and I'm concerned. ~ Cassandra Clare

In your working conditions avoid everyday mediocrity. Semi-relaxation, to a background of insipid sounds, is degrading. On the other hand, accompaniment by an etude or a cacophony of voices can become as significant for work as the perceptible silence of the night. If the latter sharpens the inner ear, the former acts as a touchstone for a diction ample enough to bury even the most wayward sounds. ~ Walter Benjamin

I've been thinking." Ben stopped Nikolas trying to straighten his wayward tie. Nikolas shook Ben's hands off and continued what he was doing with a frown. "This is hardly the time to start a new hobby. ~ John Wiltshire

It is the mystery of the unknown
That fascinates us; we are children still
Wayward and wistful; with one hand we cling
To the familiar things we call our own,
And with the other, resolute of will,
Grope in the dark for what the day will bring ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Simon takes my elbow. "Ride with me," he says, looking at the place where his hand is touching my arm. "There are stars. ~ Wayward Son, Rainbow Rowell

It's Baz they're checking out, not me. He's got to be scared, or at least nervous, but he doesn't look it. I swear he gets less ruffled the more that he's threatened. (When I'm the one threatening him, that's infuriating. But it's kind of cool now.) ~ Rainbow Rowell

Groupies and hangers-on somehow fancy themselves entitled to the narcissist's favour and largesse, his time, attention, and other resources. They convince themselves that they are exempt from the narcissist's rage and wrath and immune to his vagaries andabuse
. This self-imputed and self-conferred status irritates the narcissist no end as it challenges and encroaches on his standing as the only source of preferential treatment and the sole decision-maker when it comes to the allocation of his precious and cosmically significant wherewithal.
The narcissist is the guru at the centre of a cult. Like other gurus, he demands complete obedience from his flock: his spouse, his offspring, other family
members, friends, and colleagues. He feels entitled to adulation and special treatment by his followers. He punishes the wayward and the straying lambs. He enforces discipline, adherence to his teachings, and common goals. The less accomplished he is in reality – the more stringent his mastery and the more pervasive the brainwashing.
Cult leaders are narcissists who failed in their mission to "be someone", to become famous, and to impress the world with their uniqueness, talents, traits, and skills. Such disgruntled narcissists withdraw into a "zone of comfort" (known as the "Pathological Narcissistic Space") that assumes the hallmarks of a cult.
The – often involuntary – members of the narcissist's mini-cult inhabit a twilight zone of his own construction. He ~ Sam Vaknin

'The Spy Who Came in from the Cold' was the work of a wayward imagination brought to the end of its tether by political disgust and personal confusion. ~ John Le Carre

I'd say ... " Petra crossed her legs, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd say, I am too fucking fabulous for one gender. Oh, and can we please get rid of the cheesy dance numbers? It's like torture step-ball-change."
"I'd say I am not a race. I am an individual," Nicole said.
Sosie moved her fingers gracefully, but no one understood. She waited for a moment. "I would say, learn to hear me in my own voice. I'm hearing impaired, not invisible. ~ Libba Bray

Baz is touching me, and it's good. (Touching Baz is always good; it'd be easier if I could just touch him all the time. And kiss him. And not have to be kissed.) ~ Wayward Son, Rainbow Rowell

I have always thought that work is as common and fine as air, something that we become a part of. I am drawn to the out of doors, to the ordinary pleasures of everyday work. Alice used to say that if I was a bird I'd be the first one to sing, the wayward robin who's cranking it up before a ray of light gives anyone allowance. ~ Jane Hamilton

Setting down her own basket, Annabelle held a pin between her thumb and forefinger, and closed her eyes. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, she always made the same wish…to marry a peer. Strangely, however, a new thought entered her head, just as she cast the pin into the well.
I wish I could fall in love.
Surprised by the wilful, wayward notion, Annabelle wondered how it was that she could have wasted a wish on something that was obviously so ill-advised. Opening her eyes, Annabelle saw that the other wallflowers were staring into the well with great solemnity. "I made the wrong wish," she said fretfully. "Can I have another?"
"No," Lillian said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Once you've thrown in your pin, it's done."
"But I didn't mean to make that particular wish," Annabelle protested. "Something just popped into my head, and it wasn't at all what I had planned."
"Don't argue, Annabelle," Evie advised. "You d-don't want to annoy the well spirit."
"The what?"
Evie smiled at her perplexed expression. "The resident spirit of the well. He's the one to whom y-you make a petition. But if you annoy him, he may decide to demand a terrible price for granting your wish. Or he may drag you into the well with him, to live there forever as his c-consort."
Annabelle stared into the brown water. She cupped her hands around the sides of her mouth to help direct her voice. "You don't have to grant my rotten wish," she told the unseen spi ~ Lisa Kleypas

An undisciplined mind is a wasted one, which will be reflected in the life of the one who possesses such a mind. ~ Stephen Richards

You know the story of the prodigal son?" Pastor Voss asked. "It's powerful, don't you think? The father running out to the wayward-turned-repentant son, giving him the best clothes, preparing a giant feast. All to celebrate his return. I always wonder, when I read that story, how different it would have been if, instead of accepting his father's gift, the son would have worn sackcloth and worked in his father's pigsty ... Loses some of its power that way, doesn't it?"
"You think that's what I'm doing?"
"God's calling you to be His son, not His slave. He doesn't want you to wear shackles, Davis. Not when He's already cut you free. ~ Katie Ganshert

When the virus of restlessness begins to take possession of a wayward man, and the road away from Here seems broad and straight and sweet, the victim must first find himself a good and sufficient reason for going. ~ John Steinbeck

It would be easy to attribute Layla's effect on the opposite sex (and the occasional Sapphically inclined female) to her youth or sweet, natural perfume, but the real reason behind her attraction was far more complex. Of course, there was no denying her beauty, the consistency of her angled, porcelain features, that tilt in her almond eyes, which shined like half-moons across her celestial face. Unlike her two older sisters, who sported wayward brown ringlets, Layla had hair that was long and jet black. Tied up or let down, moussed or gelled, nothing could excite her stubbornly straight locks. They were a definite throwback to some latent Oriental chromosomes roaming deep inside of her. ~ Marsha Mehran