Way With Words Quotes

Mohamed Ali also had a way with words, but it helped enormously that he could also punch guys in the face. ~ Bill Maher

I wrote my first book when I was 22 years old. I have a way with words and I love to write. I can write without getting writers block so I knew, it was a gift. ~ Tony Gaskins

Dean's eyes were studying me. "You have a way with words. What kind of writing do you want to do?"
"Articles for Dad's paper, to start."
"What do you want to write about?"
I paused, suddenly uncertain about how much to share. Dean's eyes were reassuring.
"When I know more, I'd like to write about deeper things. ~ Catherine Marshall

You've got a wonderful way with words, disgusting but wonderful. ~ L. H. Cosway

I even presume to sit at his desk while I write this book, hoping some magical transference will take place and I'll be gifted, if only for this moment, with his way with words. I feel like a boy trying to fit into his dad's running shoes. ~ Erin Lee Carr

He'd done his walls with paint from Holy Basil. God, I yearned for their colors. I hadn't been able to afford them myself but I knew their color chart like the back of my hand. His hall was done in Gangrene, his stairs in Agony and his living room
unless I was very much mistaken
in Dead Whale. Colors I personally very much approved of. ~ Marian Keyes

New Rule: Democrats must get in touch with their inner asshole. I refer to the case of Van Jones, the man the Obama administration hired to find jobs for Americans in the new green industries. Seems like a smart thing to do in a recession, but Van Jones got fired because he got caught on tape saying Republicans are assholes. And they call it news!

Now, I know I'm supposed to be all reinjected with yes-we-can-fever after the big health-care speech, and it was a great speech--when Black Elvis gets jiggy with his teleprompter, there is none better. But here's the thing: Muhammad Ali also had a way with words, but it helped enormously that he could also punch guys in the face.

It bothers me that Obama didn't say a word in defense of Jones and basically fired him when Glenn Beck told him to. Just like dropped "end-of-life counseling" from health-care reform because Sarah Palin said it meant "death panels" on her Facebook page. Crazy morons make up things for Obama to do, and he does it.

Same thing with the speech to schools this week, where the president attempted merely to tell children to work hard and wash their hands, and Cracker Nation reacted as if he was trying to hire the Black Panthers to hand out grenades in homeroom. Of course, the White House immediately capitulated. "No students will be forced to view the speech" a White House spokesperson assured a panicked nation. Isn't that like admitting that the president might be doing somethi ~ Bill Maher

I got a call from Tom Hanks, who directed That Thing You Do!, when he was done cutting that film. I was like, "Oh, my god. Tom Hanks is calling me. This is amazing!" And then, of course, he was calling me to tell me that I was barely in the movie. But I'll never forget it - and this is why he's Tom Hanks, because he's got such a way with words. ~ Kristen Stewart

It's not that I have a way with words; it's that I have no way without them. ~ Tony Tulathimutte

The male who'd just arrived laughed as he embraced Qhuinn. You have such a way with words, cousin. I would say ... trucker meets sailor crossed with a twelve-year-old. ~ J.R. Ward

Some people have a way with words, and other people ... oh, uh, not have way. ~ Steve Martin

Josh, you saw him," Tally says, "What did he look like? Did he look nice?"
"He looked like a person," Josh grunts.
"Don't be a spoilsport," Tally says, and Caid hears her smack Josh on the arm.
"Shortish, blondish, thinish," Josh says.
"Thank you, Josh," Caid says, "Your way with words astounds me yet again."
"Well, whatever," Tally says. "What did you guys talk about? You said he's nice?"
"We talked about a lot of things. And yeah, he's - I mean, we traded numbers, so hopefully he'll call."
"I hope so, too," Tally says. "I'm glad you have somebody to hang out with now."
"Because I was such horrible company?" Josh says, voice thick and deep like he's got a mouthful of ice cream.
"I wouldn't say horrible," Caid says. "Unbearable, maybe. Like one of those YouTube videos that never loads." And with that, he shoots a shit-eating grin in Josh's direction, and shovels a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. ~ Seventhswan

But in the name of all that is holy, Mosca, of all the people you could have taken up with, why Eponymous Clent?" murmured Kohlrabi.
Because I'd been hording words for years, buying them from peddlers and carving them secretly on bits of bark so I wouldn't forget them, and then he turned up using words like "epiphany" and "amaranth." Because I heard him talking in the marketplace, laying out sentences like a merchant rolling out rich silks. Because he made words and ideas dance like flames and something that was damp and dying came alive in my mind, the way it hadn't since they burned my father's books. Because he walked into Chough with stories from exciting places tangled around him like maypole streamers ... "
Mosca shrugged.
"He's got a way with words. ~ Frances Hardinge

J. Ivy is a brilliant man with an incredible voice and a way with words. I've known him for over a decade and owe my stage name to him believing in me back then before I even had a record deal. I'm excited for him to share his truth with the world. ~ John Legend

When a court officer suggested quarantine for Nerissa, she grabbed the man's pen and jammed it into the back of his hand, screaming that he was a Crimson Guard witch come to remove her memories and replace them with bird-song.
They decided to skip quarantine after that. ~ Caitlin Kittredge

I don't have your way with words "Sin said. "So I'm just going to go with a quick response. Ha ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

Laughing behind my hand, I followed him out to his motorcycle. "I like to think I'm hot enough that I don't need to flirt well."
"Do you? Fortunately, I agree. In fact, this time when you walk in front of me and think I'm checking out your ass, it'll be true."
"Cooper, you have such a way with words. A real poet."
"Don't I know it," he said, sliding on his bike. ~ Bijou Hunter

You sound surprised."
"Not surprised, really. It's just that…." Heller flashed me a sheepish look. "I haven't actually told him I love him."
"Really?" I assumed he had. Didn't mates do that?
"Really, and I don't know why I haven't since I started falling in love with him the moment I looked into those sexy gunmetal eyes of his. Gods, those eyes of his. It's like rolling in catnip."
I leaned against my truck. Oh, this was almost too good. "Is this you waxing poetically?"
"Don't hate me because I have great hair and a way with words. Jeez, Remi, I do. I do love him. Wow." Heller looked at me, a happy smile plastered on his face. "I feel so much lighter now that I said it. I love him."
"Of course you do. He's your mate."
Heller's smiled
dipped. "It's not that simple, and you damn well know it. Are you saying you love Marshell?"
"Whoa, there." I held up my hands - like that was going to stop him. "I just met him. ~ M.A. Church

Daniel Wesley, you're gonna get caught," she says with a grin. She turns and begins walking toward the exit, so I discreetly place a hand on her lower back and walk next to her.

"God, I hope so," I say. "If I have to sit through another lunch like that, I'll lose my shit and you'll end up on your back on top of the table."

She laughs. "What a way with words you have. ~ Colleen Hoover

He's my brother. You don't turn away from someone like him just because he likes dick instead of the good stuff." I chuckle. "You certainly haven't lost your way with words. ~ T.J. Klune

I don't have Ryan's way with words. They're hard for me. Difficult. At least words that have emotion. ~ Katie McGarry

Dempsey himself said you only spend so much time in the spotlight before they change the bulb. He had a very clever way with words. ~ Roger Kahn

There is a master way with words that cannot be learned but instead developed: a deaf man develops exceptional vision, a blind man exceptional hearing, a silent man, when given a piece of paper ... ~ Criss Jami

I really shouldn't leave," Zach said, terrified what would happen the second he found himself alone with Nora.
"Come on, Zach. This party sucks and not in the good way. I've had pap smears more fun than this."
Zach covered a laugh with a cough.
"I must admit you do have a way with words. ~ Tiffany Reisz

Mandorallen turned to Barak. "If it please thee, my Lord," he requested politely, "deliver my challenge as soon as they approach us."
Barak shrugged. "It's your skin," he noted. He eyed the advancing knights and then lifted his voice in a great roar. "Sir Madorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor, desires entertainment," he declaimed. "It would amuse him if each of your parties would select a champion to joust with him. If, however, you are all such cowardly dogs that you have no stomach for such a contest, cease this brawling and stand aside so that your betters may pass."
"Splendidly spoken, my Lord Barak," Madorallen said with admiration.
"I've always had a way with words," Barak replied modestly. ~ David Eddings

Truth loves nothing better than simplicity of truth: that is the lesson Columbe Josse ought to have learned from her medieval readings. But all she seems to have gleaned from her studies is how to make a conceptual fuss in the service of nothing. It is a sort of endless loop, and also a shameless waste of resources, including the courier and my own self.

. . . Granted, the young woman has a fairly efficient way with words, despite her youth. But the fact that the middle classes are working themselves to the bone, using their sweat and taxes to finance such pointless and pretentious research leaves me speechless. Every gray morning, day after gloomy day, secretaries, craftsmen, employees, petty civil servants, taxi drivers and concierges shoulder their burdens so that the flower of French youth, duly housed and subsidized, can squander the fruit of all that dreariness upon the altar of ridiculous endeavors . . .

Should you devote your time to teaching, to producing a body of work, to research, to culture? It makes no difference. The only thing that matters is your intention: are you elevating thought and contributing to the common good, or rather joining the ranks in the field of study whose only purpose is its own perpetuation, and only function the self-reproduction of the elite - for this turns the University into a sect. ~ Muriel Barbery

His kiss ignited a bone-melting fire that spread through her blood. He gradually edged her toward his chamber door.
Margaret paused and drew a ragged breath. "I do believe we should eat first, m'lord. I need my strength before we do that again."
Colin threw his head back with a rolling laugh. "You do have a way with words, wife. Come sup then, before I change my mind. ~ Amy Jarecki

Really? Then why is it my memories from that time are locked up tighter than a virgin in an iron maiden chastity belt that's been welded shut? I had always had a way with words. ~ Eve Langlais

There is a loving way with words and an unloving way. And it is only with the loving way that the simplicity of language becomes beautiful. ~ Margaret Wise Brown

Love life,Live life, ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

Bob Dylan has a way with words that simply blows me away. When he forgets his lyrics he just makes up new ones on the spot, that is what I called talented! ~ Gavin Rossdale

Jax Cassidy is delightful! Her lush, lyrical way with words will draw you in and keep you turning the pages. ~ Sylvia Day

The latter. She had a good run, Sook said, doing a little shrug. It was his usual response to death at Mapleshade, and it was a safe bet that he felt that way about himself. Like most twice-widowed, Korea-vet, nature-loving, gun-enthusiast, bilingual, weed-connoisseur great grandfathers of five, he'd lived a full life. ~ Lisa Lutz

Leonard Cohen has a way with words and with humor that remind me to lighten up, which I appreciate very much. ~ Damien Rice

St. Clair tucks the tips of his fingers into his pockets and kicks the cobblestones with the toe of his boots. "Well?" he finally asks.
"Thank you." I'm stunned. "It was really sweet of you to bring me here."
"Ah,well." He straightens up and shrugs-that full-bodied French shrug he does so well-and reassumes his usual, assured state of being. "Have to start somewhere. Now make a wish."
"Huh?" I have such a way with words. I should write epic poetry or jingles for cat food commercials.
He smiles. "Place your feet on the star, and make a wish."
"Oh.Okay,sure." I slide my feet together so I'm standing in the center. "I wish-"
"Don't say it aloud!" St. Clair rushes forward, as if to stop my words with his body,and my stomach flips violently. "Don't you know anything about making wishes? You only get a limited number in life. Falling stars, eyelashes,dandelions-"
"Birthday candles."
He ignores the dig. "Exactly. So you ought to take advantage of them when they arise,and superstition says if you make a wish on that star, it'll come true." He pauses before continuing. "Which is better than the other one I've heard."
"That I'll die a painful death of poisoning, shooting,beating, and drowning?"
"Hypothermia,not drowning." St. Clair laughs. He has a wonderful, boyish laugh. "But no. I've heard anyone who stands here is destined to return to Paris someday. And as I understand it,one year for you is one year to many. Am I right?"
I cl ~ Stephanie Perkins

Thankfully,two old friends stood next to the throne. Horus wore full battle armor and a khopesh sword at his side.is kohl-lined eyes-one gold, one silver-were as piercing as ever. At his side stood Isis in a shimmering white gown, with wings of light.
"Welcome," Horus said.
"Um, hi," I said.
"He has a way with words," Isis muttered, which made Sadie snort. ~ Rick Riordan

She smiled thoughtfully. "I think Jackson was like a lost puppy. He needed purpose, someone to believe in him and love him despite his bullshit. But he didn't have that, so he just went around humping everyone's leg and peeing everywhere. Then you came along and he thought he found that owner that would give him that purpose - something that would make him feel needed - but you chose the fancy pet store puppy instead, so he went back to peeing on everything and destroying all the furniture."
"Um, Whit ... is there a point to this?"
"We all need someone to believe in us. It helps us see our full potential. You were that someone to believe in him. I think he'll be a new man because of it."
"So you're saying I rescued a lost puppy, and now he'll become a topnotch show dog because I'm just so amazing?"
"Exactly."
"You have such an eloquent way with words."
"No shit, right?"
"Precisely."
-Emma and Whitney ~ Rachael Wade

I couldn't believe a man had written this! Ryker had a way with words and the way with words and the way my emotions got twisted in them was a gift only a true writer possessed. ~ Sarah Brocious

I stood among the heaps of dead. They lay crumpled, useless, defunct. The vital force was fled. A bullet or a mortar fragment had torn a hole in these frail vessels and the substance had leaked out. The mystery of the universe had once inhabited these lolling lumps, had given each an identity, a way of walking, perhaps a social habit of address or a way with words or a knack of putting color on canvas. They had been so different, then. Now they were nothing, heaps of nothing. Can a bullet or a mortar fragment do this? Does this force, this mystery, I mean this soul--does this spill out on the ground along with the blood? No. It is somewhere, I know it. ~ Robert Leckie

Meditation is not words, a mantram, or self hypnosis, the drug of illusions. It must happen without your volition. It must take place in the quiet stillness of the night, when you are suddenly awake and see that the brain is quiet and there is a peculiar quality of meditation going on. It must take place as silently as a snake among the tall grass, green in the fresh morning light. It must take place in the deep recesses of the brain. Meditation is not an achievement. There is no method, system or practice. Meditation begins with the ending of comparison, the ending of the becoming or not becoming. As the bee whispers among the leaves so the whispering of meditation is action. ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

Will Christians turn once again toward an approach that imposes its will on the rest of society? By doing so we would betray our founder, who resisted a temptation to authority over "all the kingdoms of the world," and who died a martyr at the hands of a powerful state. In the words of Miroslav Volf, "Imposition stands starkly at odds with the basic character of the Christian faith, which is at its heart about self-giving - God's self-giving and human self-giving - and not about self-imposing." Even ~ Philip Yancey

I sit at my window and the words fly past me like birds - with God's help I catch some. ~ Jean Rhys

Magic existed in his eyes, his energy as he lived his daily life. I could fall into his soul and lay my worries to rest, but if by chance this happened; it wouldn't last the test.
because there's much to learn, before we can meet, I want to collide with his heart; allow our souls to fleet.
His arms will hold my fears, but he won't carry the load; as it is my lesson to love myself, and find my own sense of hope.
When we cross our paths, our knowledge will last the test; as patience fills the air and our burdens are put to rest,
I will honour my truth, and seek what I desire; ever lasting love and passion set on fire. ~ Nikki Rowe

She didn't want to be empty, didn't want to vanish. She wanted to be whole.
She said, "I want to remember you."
An emotion flared in his face. He braced her hips, tugged her closer. His lids were heavy, eyes dark. His mouth was a wet gleam. She didn't recognize his expression. It was new. She leaned in and drank the newness of him.
Their kiss turned savage. She made it so. She felt his teeth, reveled in the sure knowledge that it had never been like this between them. Yet at the same time, she felt each kiss they'd shared before, felt them live inside this one. His mouth left hers, rasping down her neck. He buried his face in her skin.
She sought his mouth and found that he tasted different now. She was tasting the taste of her skin on his mouth. Coppery. She dipped her tongue into it again.
"Kestrel."
She didn't answer him.
"This is a bad idea."
"No," she said. "It isn't."
He pulled away, closed his eyes, and dropped his head to press his brow against her belly. She felt rich with the words he muttered against her nightdress. His mouth burned through the cloth.
His chair scraped back. He no longer touched her. "Not like this."
"Yes. Exactly like this." She tried to find the words to express how this helped, how he somehow mapped the country of herself, showed the ridges, the rise and valley of her very being.
"Kestrel, I think that you're…using me a little."
She stopped, unpleasantly startled. It occurred to he ~ Marie Rutkoski

There are no words for what I've done to us - to you. You will be my greatest masterpiece. I will build you with the strongest materials. Nothing will be rushed. Even if it takes a lifetime ... every little detail will be perfect. ~ Jewel E. Ann

I remember when I was a kid at school having to learn a poem of sorts about a fellow named Pig-something - a sculptor he would have been, no doubt - who made a statue of a girl, and what should happen one morning but that the bally thing suddenly came to life. A pretty nasty shock for the chap, of course, but the point I'm working round to is that there were a couple of lines that went, if I remember correctly: She starts. She moves. She seems to feel The stir of life along her keel. And what I'm driving at is that you couldn't get a better description of what happened to Gussie as I spoke these heartening words. His brow cleared, his eyes brightened, he lost that fishy look, and he gazed at the slug, which was still on the long, long trail with something approaching bonhomie. A marked improvement. ~ P.G. Wodehouse

Oliver reached past her to yank the curtains closed, then moved to sit beside her. She stiffened, but didn't resist as he looped one arm about her waist to pull her back against his hard body.
"You don't even know what you're giving up," he rasped, "what it's like to shatter beneath a man's touch. If you knew, you wouldn't be so eager to throw that away for the cold comfort of a respectable marriage."
She closed her eyes against his words, but they were designed to tempt her, and tempt her they did. Last night had only roused her curiosity. Now, with the spicy scent of his cologne in her nostrils and his breath warming her cheek, she wanted to know more, feel more.
His voice lowered to a whisper. "Let me at least show you what you'd be missing."
She felt rather than saw him shrug off his cloak, leaving him in his shirtsleeves. That sent a wayward thrill down her spine.
"Have you forgotten that I'm deplorably a virgin?" she said, attempting to regain control over the situation.
"No. And you'll still be one when I'm done." He pressed his lips against the bit of neck below her bonnet, making her shiver deliciously. Then he untied her bonnet and tossed it onto the opposite seat so he could press a kiss into her hair. "I only want to give you a taste of passion, sweetheart. Enough for you to see what it could be like between us."
"Oliver…" she protested, turning toward him.
That proved a mistake, for he caught her head in his hands and kiss ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I trust you, Cash. I trust you."
He grabs my wrist and presses his lips to the inside then pulls gently until I'm bent at the waist and my face is close to his.
"Come home with me. Please." I can feel his warm breath on my lips, they're so close. I lean forward to close the small gap, but he leans away. "Please," he repeats softly.
I would never tell him, but he could ask me anything right now and I'd agree to it. Anything at all.
"Okay." As soon as the words leave my lips, his mouth is on mine. ~ M. Leighton

This Proto-Indo-European term ghosti (from which we get the words guest, host and ghost) referred to a kind of unspoken etiquette, a notion that on seeing strangers on the horizon, rather than choose to fell them with spears or sling-shots, instead we should take the risk of welcoming them across our threshold – on the chance that they might bring new notions, new goods, fresh blood with them.

Over time this word-idea evolved into the Greek xenia – ritualised guest–host friendship, an understanding that stitched together the ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern worlds. ~ Bettany Hughes

I thought you went out with the guys," Shea said, scrolling down his list.
"Nah, thought you needed to talk." Shea looked up, confused.
"Huh?"
"You know, talk, where your mouth moves and words come out."
"Shut up, asshole, I know what talking is. I just don't know why I need to talk. ~ Toni Aleo

..the following parable may be useful. Long ago, when shepherds wanted to see if two herds of sheep were isomorphic, they would look for an explicit isomorphism. In other words, they would line up both herds and try to match each sheep in one herd with a sheep in the other. But one day, along came a shepherd who invented decategorification. She realized one could take each herd and 'count' it, setting up an isomorphism between it and some set of 'numbers', which were nonsense words like 'one, two, three, . . . ' specially designed for this purpose. By comparing the resulting numbers, she could show that two herds were isomorphic without explicitly establishing an isomorphism! In short, by decategorifying the category of finite sets, the set of natural numbers was invented. According to this parable, decategorification started out as a stroke of mathematical genius. Only later did it become a matter of dumb habit, which we are now struggling to overcome by means of categorification. ~ John Baez

I won't bore you with the deeper moral or metaphoric meaning of the labyrinth. I will only say that it symbolizes the journey to discover the truth we all keep inside ourselves. It's the search for the self through the projection of one's being through the infinite. It's a pilgrimage to a dimension that is yet to be explored, a boundary between the known and the unknown, between the human and the divine. In other words, the labyrinth not only hides a physical universe, but also a spiritual reflection." Katherine ~ Elisabetta Cametti

To write is to transform that inward gaze into words, to study the worlds into which we pass when we retire into ourselves, and to do so with patience, obstinacy, and joy. ~ Orhan Pamuk

Hip-hop is the streets. Hip-hop is a couple of elements that it comes from back in the days ... that feel of music with urgency that speaks to you. It speaks to your livelihood and it's not compromised. It's blunt. It's raw, straight off the street - from the beat to the voice to the words. ~ Nas

I am going to kill you," he hissed.
She gulped. "Don't you want to lecture me first?"
He stared at her with a heavy dose of stupefaction.
"I take that back," he said with precisely clipped
words. "First I am going to strangle you, and then I am going to kill you."
"Here?" she asked doubtfully, looking around. "Won't my dead body look suspicious in the morning? ~ Julia Quinn

I spent the beginning of my focus on activism by doing what most everyone else was doing; blaming other people and institutions. Don't like the war? Let's blame the president, congress, or lobbyists. Don't like ecological disregard? Let's blame this or that corrupt corporation or some regulatory body for poor performance. Don't like being poor and socially immobile? Let's blame government coercion and interference in this free market utopia everyone keeps talking about.

The sobering truth of the matter is that the only thing to blame is the dynamic, causal unfolding of system expression itself on the cultural level. In other words, none of us create or do anything in isolation – it's impossible. We are system-bound both physically and psychologically; a continuum. Therefore our view of causality with respect to societal change can only be truly productive if we seek and source the most relevant sociological influences we can and begin to alter those effects from the root causes. ~ Peter Joseph

So much of the writing is not conscious, in the sense that it's not calculated. I remember in film school we had so many studies with big fancy words where you could dissect a movie and make charts of all of the characters' complicated inner relations and themes and what does this mean? And it's overwhelming as a student. It's great for a student, but as a writer, it's paralyzing. ~ Don Hertzfeldt

P.P.P.P.S. Also, if you try to make a shrimp boil, but the bag of spices bursts, and so you just toss it in along with whatever spices you can find in the pantry
you can make homemade pepper spray. Unintentionally.
And everyone at your dinner party will run outside for the next hour, coughing and tearing up as if they've been maced, because technically they kind of have been, because mace was one of the spices I found in the panty. I blame whoever makes spice out of mace, and I remind my gasping dinner guests that even if I did mace them, I did it in an old fashioned, homemade, Martha Stewart sort of way. With love. ~ Jenny Lawson

I'm so bored with it all. ~ Winston Churchill

Players today can only shoot with their laces. I could shoot with the inside, laces, and outside of both feet. In other words, I was six times better than today's players. ~ Johan Cruijff

I like a narrative, even if it's fractured, or kind of psychedelic. But my favorite thing is if I hear words and I close my eyes and the connotations or the image I get in my head, combine with the sound of them - sometimes phonetics. I'm just stringing those together. ~ Stephen Malkmus

To define Buddhism without a lot of words and phrases, we can simply say, 'Don't cling or hold on to anything. Harmonize with actuality, with things as they are.' ~ Ajahn Chah

And it is the way with us that you may express disapproval of the sun or the moon, or anything you like, but God preserve you from touching the Liberals! Heaven forbid! ~ Anton Chekhov

But whence came this curious difference between them? He found that he could point to no single feature wherein the difference resided, yet it was impossible to ignore. One could try - Ransom has tried a hundred times - to put it into words. He has said that Malacandra was like rhythm and Perelandra like melody. He has said that Malacandra affected him like a quantitative, Perelandra like an accentual, metre. He thinks that the first held in his hand something like a spear, but the hands of the other were open, with the palms towards him. But I don't know that any of these attempts has helped me much. At all events what Ransom saw at that moment was the real meaning of gender. ~ C.S. Lewis

His fingers splayed out while my heart slammed against his hand.
"How did i ever stay away from you ? I heard this calling out for me everyday." I could feel is breath across my face,his words so sad,filled with so much regret."Did you here mine?"
"yes",I breathed out as my whole body began to shake under his."My heart only beat because I could still feel your love.It was the only thing i had. ~ A.L. Jackson

Serve one another with brotherly love. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

Recall that when the first presses produced copies of the Bible, the scribes who had to spend years at a time on the same work, just as it had been done for centuries, streamed out from the monasteries with quills raised in the air, decrying the work of the devil. When one of the pioneering tradesmen printed certain words in red ink to emphasize them, it was proof that he had used his own blood. That was why the printers' assistants began to be called "devils." Soon printers were threatened with burning, and some were indeed put into the fire along with their equipment. From the beginning, the creation of the modern book was viewed as the work of Satan - an attempt to usurp the word of God. ~ Matthew Pearl

Form follows function, as the architects say. With words and pictures, you can do just about anything. ~ Bill Watterson

But then what do you do?"
"I pray for strength."
The words were simple, straightforward. Josef pushed against the floor with one foot and the swing moved back and forth, cradling us.
"And then you're not afraid anymore?"
"No," he replied. "Then I am still afraid. But then I know that God knows I'm afraid, and that is what makes the difference. ~ Ann Tatlock

And doing so you can recreate yourself and you can also come up with something that is not only original and creative and artistic, but also maybe even decent, or moral if I can use words like that, or something that's like basically good. ~ Lester Bangs

It is unwise to equate scientific activity with what we call reason, poetic activity with what we call imagination. Without the imaginative leap from facts to generalisation, no theoretic discovery in science is made. The poet, on the other hand, must not imagine but reason
that is to say, he must exercise a great deal of consciously directed thought in the selection and rejection of his data: there is a technical logic, a poetic reasoning in his choice of the words, rhythms and images by which a poem's coherence is achieved. ~ Cecil Day-Lewis

You are who you position yourself with ~ Batya Maman

But also be careful to not hit with words,
For sometimes that hurts worse each time it occurs. ~ Sherrill S. Cannon

My life, in some ways, has been a half-measure. I didn't commit myself all the way to my marriage and family, because I would have given up more. And I didn't go all the way with just being completely selfish. I always wonder where my career would be if I was more selfish. ~ Alec Baldwin

What was exchanged in the language of their eyes, more perfect than their lips, the language afforded the soul so that no sound disturbs an ecstasy of feeling? In those moments, when the thought of the two happy beings meld through their pupils, words move slowly, coarsely, like the raspy, awkward noise of thunder from dazzling light that appears after the quickness of the flash. It expresses feelings previously known, ideas yet understood, and in the end, if one must use words, it is because the heart's ambitions - which dominates one's whole being and overflows with happiness - wishes with the whole human organism, with all its physical and psychical faculties, to embody the poem of joy that the spirit has intoned. Language has no answer to the questions of love that either shimmer or hide within a glance. The smile must respond; the kiss, the sigh. ~ Jose Rizal

It is a hot summer day in Tennessee in the midst of the sixth decade of this century. The girl has climbed the fence to get to the swimming hole she has visited so many summers of her life in the time before this part of the land was enclosed. She stands now at the edge of it. Her body is sticky with heat. The surface of the water moves slightly. Sunlight shimmers and dances in a green reflection that seems as she stares at it to pull her in even before her skin is wet with it. Drops of water on the infant's head. All the body immersed for baptism. Do these images come to her as she sinks into the coolness? The washing of hands before Sunday's midday meal. All our sins washed away. Water was once the element for purification. But at the bottom of this pool, There is no telling what is there now. This is what the girl's father will say to her finally: corroded cans of chemical waste, some radioactive substances. That was why they put the fence there. She is not thinking of that now. The words have not yet been said, and so for her no trouble exists here. The water holds up her body. She is weightless in this fulsome element, the waves her body makes embracing her with their own benediction. Beneath her in the shadowy green, she feels the depth of the pond. In this coolness as the heat mercifully abates, her mind is set free, to dream as the water dreams. ~ Susan Griffin

...What I have denied and what my reason compels me to deny, is the existence of a Being throned above us as a god, directing our mundane affairs in detail, regarding us as individuals, punishing us, rewarding us as human judges might.

When the churches learn to take this rational view of things, when they become true schools of ethics and stop teaching fables, they will be more effective than they are to-day... If they would turn all that ability to teaching this one thing – the fact that honesty is best, that selfishness and lies of any sort must surely fail to produce happiness – they would accomplish actual things. Religious faiths and creeds have greatly hampered our development. They have absorbed and wasted some fine intellects. That creeds are getting to be less and less important to the average mind with every passing year is a good sign, I think, although I do not wish to talk about what is commonly called theology.

The criticisms which have been hurled at me have not worried me. A man cannot control his beliefs. If he is honest in his frank expression of them, that is all that can in justice be required of him. Professor Thomson and a thousand others do not in the least agree with me. His criticism of me, as I read it, charged that because I doubted the soul's immortality, or 'personality,' as he called it, my mind must be abnormal, 'pathological,' in other, words, diseased... I try to say exactly what I honestly believe to be the truth, and m ~ Thomas A. Edison

They tolerate my mistakes. They correct me, they encourage me, they provide the words I lack. They speak clearly, patiently. Just like parents with their children. The ~ Jhumpa Lahiri

We all die young. He was around your age then. I had just turned 18 and met Evelyn. We fell hard for each other. Any moment I could find, I was with her, which in turn led to her getting pregnant with Neal. My plan was for us to take my inheritance and live on some remote island somewhere. But, when my brother died, I had to step forward. I hated the life with a passion."

"And now you can't let go."

He was good at what he did. The stories of young Sedric were the things that nightmares were made of.

"It's like a possession," he whispered. "It crawls into your soul and takes root. You have no control over it. You allow it to grow, because it helps. It's the reason you can let blood flow across the floor like fine wine and not flinch. It helps you become the monster you need to be. The only side effect is that it's always there. No amount of holy water can wash it off. So there's no letting go. I will forever be who I allowed myself to be, and the person I allowed myself to be enjoys the chaos."

Truer words were never spoken. ~ J.J. McAvoy

True empathy is not about waiting to understand another person; it is about proactively seeking to do so. It takes effort to give another person your full time and attention; to ask others how they are feeling and if they coping well with things. And don't overlook those closest to you. Never take anyone for granted. Avoid being too preoccupied to sit down and talk with your children, partners and colleagues. ~ Nigel Cumberland

I'm so sorry," he said between kisses. "For what I said that night. For leaving you earlier. I never meant-"
"I know," she whispered, wrapping a leg over his lip and shinnying up his body. Her lips grazed his ear. "I know. Just don't leave me again."
"Never." The word burst out like an oath or a prayer, and God help him, he meant it. "Never," he repeated, looking straight into her glimmering eyes. Then he sealed the vow with a kiss, deep and desperate and true. "Oh God," he groaned when their lips finally parted.
She kissed him again, working her warm, slender fingers under the collar of his shirt to stroke the chilled flesh of his shoulders and back. He buries his face in her neck, inhaling the beautiful scent of her. He'd forgotten how roses smell sweetest after a rain. Trailing light kisses down to her collarbone, he began carrying her toward the bed.
"Make love to me, Gray."
She didn't need to ask. They both knew what was going to happen. But Gray felt the significance of her words. He might have bedded ladies and whores the world over, but for the first time in his life, he was going to make love to a woman. And not just a woman. His woman.
And this idea that should have been so unthinkable, so frightening-to his surprise, Gray found it wildly arousing. They tumbled together onto the narrow bed, and she began pulling his shirt free of his trousers. He rose up on his knees and impatiently yanked it over his head.
He peered at her frock i ~ Tessa Dare

I need a little language such as lovers use, words of one syllable such as children speak when they come into the room and find their mother sewing and pick up some scrap of bright wool, a feather, or a shred of chintz. I need a howl; a cry. When the storm crosses the marsh and sweeps over me where I lie in the ditch unregarded I need no words. Nothing neat. Nothing that comes down with all its feet on the floor. None of those resonances and lovely echoes that break and chime from nerve to nerve in our breasts making wild music, false phrases. I have done with phrases. ~ Virginia Woolf

Oh, it was delicious to have someone to keep secrets with. If I'd had a sister or a brother closer in age, I guessed that's what it would be like. But it wasn't just smoking or skirting around Mother. It was having someone look at you after your mother has nearly fretted herself to death because you are freakishly tall and frizzy and odd. Someone whose eyes simply said, without words, You are fine with me. ~ Kathryn Stockett

Hoover Dam," Thalia said. "It's huge."
We stood at the river's edge, looking up at a curve of concrete that loomed between the cliffs. People were walking along the top of the dam. They were so tiny they looked like fleas.
The naiads had left with a lot of grumbling - not in words I could understand, but it was obvious they hated this dam blocking up their nice river. Our canoes floated back downstream, swirling in the wake from the dam's discharge vents.
"Seven hundred feet tall," I said. "Built in the 1930s."
"Five million cubic acres of water," Thalia said.
Graver sighed. "Largest construction project in the United States."
Zoe stared at us. "How do you know all that?"
"Annabeth," I said. "She liked architecture."
"She was nuts about monuments," Thalia said.
"Spouted facts all the time." Grover sniffled. "So annoying."
"I wish she were here," I said. ~ Rick Riordan