Three Little Words Quotes

My wife is really sentimental. One Valentine's Day I gave her a ring and to this day she has never forgotten those three little words that were engraved inside Made in Taiwan! ~ Leopold Fechtner

My mind is desperately trying to formulate the words to let him know, to show him that my feelings run so much deeper than what those three little words can describe. I need to make him feel the way he's just made me feel, and 'I love you' just doesn't seem adequate anymore. ~ Elle Brooks

He couldn't be -

Oh, Lord. He was. He was going to kiss her.

"Wait." Panicked, Maddie put both hands on his chest, holding him off.

"Your men, my servants … they could be watching us."

"I'm certain they're watching us. That's why we're going to kiss."

"But I don't know how. You know I don't know how."

His lips quirked. "I know how."

Those three little words, spoken in that low, devastating Scottish burr, did absolutely nothing to ease Maddie's concerns.

Thankfully, she had a reprieve. He pulled back and peered at her hair. He looked like a boy marveling at clockwork, wondering how it all worked. After a few moments, she felt him grasp the pencil holding her chignon.
With one long, slow tug, he eased it loose and cast it aside.

It landed in the loch with a splash.

His fingers sifted through her hair, teasing the locks free of their haphazard knot and arranging them about her shoulders. Tenderly. Like she'd always imagined a lover would. Sparks of sensation danced from her scalp to her toes.

"That was my best drawing pencil," she said.

"It's just a pencil."

"It came from London. I have a limited supply."

His thumb caressed her cheek. "It almost put out my eye. I've a limited supply of those, too. And it's better this way."

"But - " Her breath caught. "Oh."

He bracketed her cheeks with his hands, til ~ Tessa Dare

Perhaps she was happiest when she was out of control. She looked at the fates and said three little words, not one regret. ~ Lawren Leo

You think I'm with you out of guilt?"
"No, you ass. Of course not. I just mean - "
"You're a nut, MacAllister. I'm with you because I love you."
There it was, out. Three little words. Three of the most common words in the world, but string them together and they were more powerful than any warrant, any extradition papers, or even treaty. Stronger than any magical spell. Had he really never said them aloud to Taylor? ~ Josh Lanyon

Three little words. My world stands still, tilts, then spins on a new axis. ~ E.L. James

I thought it might be a fine time to say the Three Little Words. And I steeled myself to say them as I stared up at that starriest night, convinced myself that she felt it, too, that her hand so alive and vivid against my leg was more than playful, and fuck Lara and fuck Jake because I do, Alaska Young, I do love you and what else matters but that and my lips parted to speak and before I could even begin to breathe out the words, she said, It's not life or death, the labyrinth. ~ John Green

I'll miss you," he said, a catch in his voice. Those three little words held all the emotion of a hundred lifetimes, and we were both in danger of drowning under the weight of them. ~ L.H. Cosway

I see her," a man's voice whispered. A chill spread through me. Shane played it again. Never had three little words terrified me so much. I see her. ~ Mara Purnhagen

I am pleased, he said with a rich throaty accent. My heart melted. Simple as they were, those three little words meant the world to me. ~ Red Phoenix

We know there are three little words branded inside my heart: Jonah was here. ~ Emery Lord

i love you
three little words
that can hurt
almost anyone
at any time of day ~ Beccy Anne

And lying there, amid the tall, still grass and beneath the star-drunk sky, listening to the just-this-side-of-inaudible sound of her rhythmic breathing and the noisy silence of the bullfrogs, the grasshoppers, the distant cars rushing endlessly on I-65, I thought it might be a fine time to say the Three Little Words. ~ John Green

When you date someone, you have the markers along the way, right: You kiss, you have The Talk, you say the Three Little Words, you sit on a swing set and break up. You can plot the points on a graph. And you check up with each other along the way: Can I do this? If I say this, will you say it back? But with friendship, there's nothing like that. Being in a relationship, that's something you choose. Being friends, that's just something you are. ~ Rachel Cohn

You ready?" Evan asks, and he's looking at me, and I love his hair, I love his smile, I lo
"I Love You," I say, and as I watch his smile bloom I finally get how great those three little words are. I finally get what they really mean. ~ Elizabeth Scott

Illness itself can make you angry, enraged, furious, and it made me angry, enraged, and furious. I don't think it brought me to God at all. It depends how you deal with it. And I think that, at its best, three little words that always have to be applied to religion, religion can help you to deal with that. ~ Karen Armstrong

AND THEN SOME ... these three little words are the secret to success. People that follow this are thoughtful of others; considerate and kind ... and then some. They are good friends and neighbors ... and then some. I am thankful for people like this, for they make the world a better place. Their spirit of service is summed up in these three little words ... AND THEN SOME. ~ Carl Holmes

Ben leans over and whispers in my ear, "I missed you."
I bite my lip and whisper that I missed him too. He leans back in his chair all calm and collected, while I break out in a sweat, just hearing him say those three little words. ~ Amanda Cowen

The next thing I remembered was Reyes smiling down at me as the sun filtered into his apartment, his hair mussed, his lids hooded with the thick remnants of sleep. I stretched as those three little words that every girl longs to hear slipped from his mouth with effortless ease. As though they did every day. As though they didn't mean the world to me.
With one corner of his mouth tipping sensually, he asked, "Want some coffee?"
And I fell.
I fell hard. ~ Darynda Jones

In an extreme view, the world can be seen as only connections, nothing else. We think of a dictionary as the repository of meaning, but it defines words only in terms of other words. I liked the idea that a piece of information is really defined only by what it's related to, and how it's related. There really is little else to meaning. The structure is everything. There are billions of neurons in our brains, but what are neurons? Just cells. The brain has no knowledge until connections are made between neurons. All that we know, all that we are, comes from the way our neurons are connected. ~ Tim Berners-Lee

Starting a new novel is a little like starting a new relationship
you have to be prepared to commit for at least three years and put up with the domestic tedium as well as the emotional highs! ~ Tobsha Learner

When a scientist considers all high-tech mental machinery needed to arrange words into ordinary sentences, prescriptive rules are, at best, inconsequential little decorations. The very fact that they have to be drilled shows that they are alien to the natural workings of the language system. One can choose to obsess over prescriptive rules, but they have no more to do with language than the criteria for judging cats at a cat show have to do with mammalian biology. ~ Steven Pinker

Just watching Israel bombarding Palestine and Palestine sending one or two little rockets over to Israel - it's just too sad for words. ~ Richard Branson

Women are like dogs really. They love like dogs, a little insistently. And they like to fetch and carry and come back wistfully after hard words, and learn rather easily to carry a basket. ~ Mary Roberts Rinehart

He sank more and more into apathy; little interested him apart from dolls and other children's toys. He still spoke occasionally, but mainly to produce stock sentences in the style of a brainwashed schoolboy. Franziska made a record of some of them: 'I translated much'. 'I lived in a good place called Naumburg'. 'I swam in the Saale'. 'I was very fine because I lived in a fine house'. 'I love Bismarck'. 'I don't like Friedrich Nietzsche'. It would be a mercy to think that he experienced at least a kind of vegetative contentment, but this seems not to have been the case. He suffered from his life-long curse of insomnia, and visitors downstairs were often disturbed by groans and howls coming from the upstairs bedroom. Towards the end of Franziska recorded him uttering 'More light!' (Goethe's dying words) and 'In short, dead!' suggesting that that is what he wanted to be. ~ Julian Young

Lindsey took my father's hand and watched his face for movement. My sister was growing up before my eyes. I listened as she whispered the words he had sung to the two of us before Buckley was born:

Stones and bones;
snow and frost
seeds and beansand polliwogs.
Paths and twigs, assorted kisses,
We all who knowwho Daddy misses!
His two little frogs of girls, that's who.
They know where they are, do you, do you?


When her eyes closed and they both slept silently together, I whispered to them:
Stones and bones;
snow and frost;
seeds and beans and polliwogs.
Paths and twigs, assorted kisses,
We all know who Susie misses..... ~ Alice Sebold

The English Language is a form of communication! Words aren't only bombs and bullets - no, they're little gifts, containing meanings. What is true in love, is equally true at law ~ Phillip Roth

She sometimes takes her little brother for a walk round this way," explained Bingo. "I thought we would meet her and bow, and you could see her, you know, and then we would walk on."
"Of course," I said, "that's enough excitement for anyone, and undoubtedly a corking reward for tramping three miles out of one's way over ploughed fields with tight boots, but don't we do anything else? Don't we tack on to the girl and buzz along with her?"
"Good Lord!" said Bingo, honestly amazed. "You don't suppose I've got nerve enough for that, do you? I just look at her from afar off and all that sort of thing. Quick! Here she comes! No, I'm wrong!"
It was like that song of Harry Lauder's where he's waiting for the girl and says, "This is her-r-r. No, it's a rabbut." Young Bingo made me stand there in the teeth of a nor'-east half-gale for ten minutes, keeping me on my toes with a series of false alarms, and I was just thinking of suggesting that we should lay off and give the rest of the proceedings a miss, when round the corner there came a fox-terrier, and Bingo quivered like an aspen. Then there hove in sight a small boy, and he shook like a jelly. Finally, like a star whose entrance has been worked up by the personnel of the ensemble, a girl appeared, and his emotion was painful to witness. His face got so red that, what with his white collar and the fact that the wind had turned his nose blue, he looked more like a French flag than anything else. He sagged from the wais ~ P.G. Wodehouse

On the one hand, the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century European Enlightenment (that's a metaphor, by the way) correctly "enlightened" us on the necessity of observation and experimentation in the physical sciences and the value of reason and debate, proof and repetition in science and technology. In that process, the dead hand of inquisitional power and the cold gaze of ecclesiastical control were removed from spheres about which they knew too little and claimed too much. That was a magnificent achievement and must always be appreciated as such.

On the other hand, the Enlightenment also dramatically "endarkened" us on metaphor and symbol, myth and parable, especially in religion and theology. We judge, for example, that the ancients took their religious stories literally, but that we are now sophisticated enough to recognize their delusions. What, however, if those ancients intended and accepted their stories as metaphors or parables, and we are the mistaken ones? What if those pre-Enlightenment minds were quite capable of hearing a metaphor, grasping its meaning immediately and its content correctly, and never worrying about the question: Is this literal or metaphorical? Or, better, what if they knew how to take their foundational metaphors and stories programmatically, functionally, and seriously without asking too closely about literal and metaphorical distinctions?

We have, in other words, great post-Enlightenment gain, but also great post-Enlighte ~ John Dominic Crossan

I have learned as much in the last three years as in any other comparable period of my life, but with an added realisation of how little over a half century of study one has in fact managed to learn of the whole range of economic policy issues. ~ James Meade

The ovation roared around him. He felt nothing in particular, hardly even the embarrassment he had feared. He had to go up again - this time without Fräulein Gasteiner, and it was a little peculiar to him to hear the noise of clapping hands and the loud shouts of "Bravo". He bowed several times, turned to the door and then, just as the clapping was getting weaker, he heard a voice from slightly behind him, or to the side - he couldn't quite tell - but the words were perfectly distinct, no matter how quietly they had been said: "Poor devil!" He wanted to look around, but he felt that that would seem absurd. ~ Arthur Schnitzler

Were they Moorish? Were they Gothic? And what was the name for the finely turned little posts on the balconies? Balusters. So many words ran through his mind, with their infinite connotations - decadent, baroque, grandeur, rococo, monumental, enduring, tragic. ~ Anne Rice

First of all I have to ask myself what am I trying to say and who am I trying to tell the story to. So if it's just 300 words going in the Independent it's very much where, what, who and when - fantastic. If there's a little bit more scope, if I've been given 1500 words by the sports editor, and I can have a little bit of fun, then I need to maybe entertain, include some different stuff. ~ Steve Bunce

We dragged Linc along. His current honey is working tonight."
"Still the intern?"
"Yeah." Helen sat on the curvy velvet chaise, made herself at home. "I'm starting to think he's
getting serious about her."
"And?"
"I don't know. She's a nice girl, raised well. Focused, which he could use, and independent,
which I appreciate."
"But he's your baby."
"But he's my baby," Helen agreed. "I miss the little boy sometimes, with the scabbed knees and
loose shoelaces. Still see him in that tall, gorgeous lawyer in the three-piece suit that strolls in and
out of my life now. And Jesus, ~ Nora Roberts

Julia had a friend, a man named Dennys, who was as a boy a tremendously gifted artist. They had been friends since they were small, and she once showed me some of the drawings he made when he was ten or twelve: little sketches of birds pecking at the ground, of his face, round and blank, of his father, the local veterinarian, his hand smoothing the fur of a grimacing terrier. Dennys's father didn't see the point of drawing lessons, however, and so he was never formally schooled. But when they were older, and Julia went to university, Dennys went to art school to learn how to draw. For the first week, he said, they were allowed to draw whatever they wanted, and it was always Dennys's sketches that the professor selected to pin up on the wall for praise and critique.
But then they were made to learn how to draw: to re-draw, in essence. Week two, they only drew ellipses. Wide ellipses, fat ellipses, skinny ellipses. Week three, they drew circles: three-dimensional circles, two-dimensional circles. Then it was a flower. Then a vase. Then a hand. Then a head. Then a body. And with each week of proper training, Dennys got worse and worse. By the time the term had ended, his pictures were never displayed on the wall. He had grown too self-conscious to draw. When he saw a dog now, its long fur whisking the ground beneath it, he saw not a dog but a circle on a box, and when he tried to draw it, he worried about proportion, not about recording its doggy-ness. ~ Hanya Yanagihara

Speak the truth do not become angered and give when asked, even be it a little. By these three conditions one goes to the presence of the gods. ~ Gautama Buddha

Is it your wish that I should leave you now?" "Why would you think that of me?" His eyebrows rose, the vulnerability gone. "You are not a servant, Mariana, to be thus ordered from my sight." "No," I admitted, looking down at my feet, "I am not a servant. I am a mistress. A minor difference, I'll grant you." His eyes were steady on my face. "You are my love," he corrected me, softly, "and there is no shame in that. Do you wish this afternoon undone?" I raised my head. "No," I told him honestly. "I will not force you to my bed," he said. "I do not want a frightened woman, nor a coy one, but one who gives me love because she wills it so. If I make no promises, it is because the world is an uncertain place, and words matter little. But if you doubt the honor of my love, come," he stretched his hand towards me, palm upward, "let me renew my pledge. ~ Susanna Kearsley

You're playing with fire, little girl," he says quietly. "I'm not one of your toys, and I'm not interested in what you're offering."
"I'm not offering anything." I retort, even though his words sting. "I like my men more…refined."
His grin calls my bluff. "You sure about that? ~ Lauren Layne

I've got a little baby, I made him ... He doesn't speak, he's 2 ... He's a slow learner, he's only got 2 words ... car and map ... I'm slightly worried he's trying to escape. If his next word is passport we are in serious trouble! ~ Michael McIntyre

After three hours, I come back to the waiting room. It is a cosmetic surgery office, so a little like a hotel lobby, underheated and expensively decorated, with candy in little dishes, emerald-green plush chairs, and upscale fashion magazines artfully displayed against the wall.
A young woman comes in, frantic to get a pimple "zapped" before she sees her family over the holidays. An older woman comes in with her daughter for a follow-up visit to a face-lift. She is wearing a scarf and dark glasses. The nurse examines her bruises right out in the waiting room.
And you are in the operating room having your body and your gender legally altered. I feel like laughing, but I know it makes me sound like a lunatic. ~ Joan Nestle

Cade studied her for a moment, then sat forward in his chair. "Seriously, what is it about this guy? He's just a rich computer geek with good hair."

Rylann smiled. "I think there's a little more to it than that."

"Christ, you are smitten." He threw up his hands. "What is going on with everyone these days? Sam Wilkins is babbling about a meet-cute, Cameron's sneaking off to get hitched, and now you're all starry-eyed over the Twitter Terrorist. Has everyone been sneaking happy pills out of the evidence room when I'm not looking?"

"No, just some really good pot."

Cade laughed out loud at that. "You are a funny one, Pierce. I'll say that."

"So does that mean we're still on for Starbucks later today?"

He studied her suspiciously. "You're not going to want to talk about Kyle Rhodes the whole time, are you?"

"Actually, yes. And then we'll go shoe shopping together and get mani-pedis." She threw him a get-real look. "We'll talk about the same stuff we always talk about."

With a grin, he finally nodded. "Fine. Three o'clock, Pierce. I'll swing by your office ~ Julie James

Our bellies are empty and our patience is short ... submit to us and we will make of you a great quiche!'
'Again with the QUICHE?! What kind of self-respecting monster would eat a DAINTY PASTRY DISH?! STEW is what we will make of their bones!'
'Don't get greedy on me! There's three of them! I just want the little one for my quiche!'
'It was nothing to do with greed! It's a matter of principle! MONSTERS DO NOT EAT QUICHE! ~ Jeff Smith

Lives of nations are determined not by the count of years, but by the lifetime of the human spirit. The life of a man is three-score years and ten: a little more, a little less. The life of a nation is the fullness of the measure of its will to live. ~ Franklin D. Roosevelt

The Addams dwelling at 25 West Fifty-fourth Street was directly behind the Museum of Modern Art, at the top of the building. It was reached by an ancient elevator, which rumbled up to the twelfth floor. From there, one climbed through a red-painted stairwell where a real mounted crossbow hovered. The Addams door was marked by a "big black number 13," and a knocker in the shape of a vampire.

...Inside, one entered a little kingdom that fulfilled every fantasy one might have entertained about its inhabitant. On a pedestal in the corner of the bookcase stood a rare "Maximilian" suit of armor, which Addams had bought at a good price ("a bargain at $700")... It was joined by a half-suit, a North Italian Morion of "Spanish" form, circa 1570-80, and a collection of warrior helmets, perched on long stalks like decapitated heads... There were enough arms and armaments to defend the Addams fortress against the most persistent invader: wheel-lock guns; an Italian prod; two maces; three swords. Above a sofa bed, a spectacular array of medieval crossbows rose like birds in flight. "Don't worry, they've only fallen down once," Addams once told an overnight guest. ...

Everywhere one looked in the apartment, something caught the eye. A rare papier-mache and polychrome anatomical study figure, nineteenth century, with removable organs and body parts captioned in French, protected by a glass bell. ("It's not exactly another human heart beating in the house, but it's close ~ Linda H. Davis

In an internal panic, I picked up the phone and hurriedly pushed redial. I had to catch Rhonda the Realtor, had to tell her wait, hold off, don't let it go, I'm not sure, hang on, give me another day…or two…or three. But when the numbers finished dialing, I heard no ringing; instead, in a perfect moment of irony, coincidence, and serendipity, I heard Marlboro Man's voice on the other end.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Oh," I replied. "Hello?"
"Hey, you," he replied.
So much for calling Rhonda the Realtor. Three seconds into the phone call, Marlboro Man's voice had already taken hold. His voice. It weakened my knees, destroyed my focus, ruined my resolve. When I heard his voice, I could think of nothing but wanting to see him again, to be in his presence, to drink him in, to melt like butter in his impossibly strong arms. When I heard his voice, Chicago became nothing but a distant memory.
"What're you up to?" he continued. I could hear cattle in the background.
"Oh, just getting a few things done," I said. "Just tying up a few loose ends."
"You're not moving to Chicago today, are you?" he said with a chuckle. He was only halfway joking.
I laughed, rolling over in my bed and fiddling with the eyelet ruffle on my comforter. "Nope, not today," I answered. "What are you doing?"
"Coming to pick you up in a little bit," he said. I loved it when he took charge. It made my heart skip a beat, made me feel flushed and excited and thrilled. After four ~ Ree Drummond

If I could have three wishes, one would be to take an '88 and shove that barrel up Hitler's ass so that cocksucker can cry like the little god-damned girl he is. And hell, after that, I wouldn't need two more wishes. ~ George S. Patton

There are these little things about you and everything that you do. The beauty of which the mere words can't cage or explain. Moments that grabs me in its arms, throws me to the sky, bangs me back on the earth and throws me into the sea. Like I am dead for a moment watching you. And the next second I am breathing heavily and trying hard to swim in the magic of you. ~ Akshay Vasu

History, in other words, provides little indication, let alone assurance, that political success is a prerequisite of upward mobility. ~ Jason L. Riley

It only takes a few words, a little distance & a whole lot of suppressed emotions to move out of the primary label and press delete on each other. ~ Sijdah Hussain