Wish He Was Mine Quotes

I wish he was mine," he said. The words slipped out without thought, but there was no taking them back...

"I love Gus," she said, cutting him deep, deep. "Not only is he my husband, but he is honorable and noble and good, and I vowed before God that I would love him." She made a harsh tearing sound in her throat. "When I saw him that day, when he knocked me over with his bicycle, he was like something out of a dream, my dream." She looked at him, and her eyes glittered like shards of glass. "Oh, God, God, how could I have known, how could I have known? Up until that moment, you see, he was the closest thing I'd found to you. ~ Penelope Williamson

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord. ~ J.K. Rowling

Curran smiled.
"What's so funny?"
"Your panties have a bow," he said.
I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top - not mine - and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? "What's wrong with bows?"
"Nothing." He was grinning now. "I expected barbed wire. Or one of those steel chains."
Wiseass. "I'm secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft."
"I bet." He almost purred.
I gulped. Okay, I needed to either crawl back into bed and cover myself with the blanket or get the hell to the bathroom and back. Since I didn't fancy peeing on myself, the bathroom was my only option.
"I don't suppose you'd mind giving me a bit of privacy for my trip?"
"Not a chance," he said.
I tried to get off the bed. Everything was under control until my weight actually hit my legs and then the room decided to crawl sideways. Curran caught me. His arm hugged my back, his touch sending an electric shiver along my skin. Oh no.
"Need some help, ass kicker?"
"I'm fine, thanks." I pushed away from him. He held on to me for a second, letting me know that he could restrain me against my will with laughable ease, and let go. I clenched my teeth. Enjoy it while it lasts. I'll be back on my feet soon.
I walked away from him, successfully maintaining vertical position, and ze ~ Ilona Andrews

I buried him with mine own hands, in a place he showed me once when I was a squire at Storm's End. No one shall ever find him there to disturb his rest." He looked at Jaime defiantly. "I will defend King Tommen with all my strength, I swear it. I will give my life for his if need be. But I will never betray Renly, by word or deed. He was the king that should have been. He was the best of them. ~ George R R Martin

We can't..." he told me.
"I know," I agreed.

Then his mouth was on mine again, and this time, I knew there would be no turning back. There were no walls this time. Our bodies wrapped together as he tried to get my coat off, then his shirt, then my shirt. ... It really was a lot like when we'd fought out on the quad earlier-that same passion and heat. I think at the end of the day, the instincts that power fighting and sex aren't so different. They all come from an animal side of us.

Yet, as more and more clothes came off, it went beyond just animal passion. It was sweet and wonderful at the same time. When I looked into his eyes, I could see without a doubt that he loved me more than anyone else in the world, that I was his salvation, the same way that he was mine. I'd never expected my first time to be in a cabin in the woods, but I realized the place didn't matter. The person did. With someone you loved, you could be anywhere, and it would be incredible. Being in the most luxurious bed in the world wouldn't matter if you were with someone you didn't love. ~ Richelle Mead

Do you have a favorite constalation, Percy?'
I was still kind of wondering about the little green snakes he'd shoved into his jogging shorts, but i said. 'Uh, I like Hercules.'
'Why?'
'Well ... because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better.
The jogger chuckled. 'Not because he was strong and famouse and all that?'
'No. ~ Rick Riordan

I think the most difficult thing in teaching, as well as the most interesting, is to get the children to tell you their real thoughts about things. One stormy day last week I gathered them around me at dinner hour and tried to get them to talk to me just as if I were one of themselves. I asked them to tell me the things they most wanted. Some of the answers were commonplace enough... dolls, ponies, and skates. Others were decidedly original. Hester Boulter wanted 'to wear her Sunday dress every day and eat in the sitting room.' Hannah Bell wanted 'to be good without having to take any trouble about it.' Marjorie White, aged ten, wanted to be a 'widow'. Questioned why, she gravely said that if you weren't married people called you an old maid, and if you were your husband bossed you; but if you were a widow there'd be no danger of either. The most remarkable wish was Sally Bell's. She wanted a 'honeymoon.' I asked her if she knew what it was and she said she thought it was an extra nice kind of bicycle because her cousin in Montreal went on a honeymoon when he was married and he had always had the very latest in bicycles! ~ L.M. Montgomery

The fight unfolded like background noise. White noise. In the foreground, even with his ghastly pale face looking dead in my hands, my fingers clenching his ragged hair, all I could see was random images of Fang, not dead.

Fang telling me stupid fart jokes from the dog crate next to mine at the school, trying to make me laugh.

Fang asleep at Jeb's old house, and me jumping wildly on his bed to wake him up. Him pretending to be asleep. Me laughing when I "accidentally" kicked him where it counts. Him dumping me off the bed.

Fang gagging on my first attempt at cooking dinner after Jeb disappeared. Him spitting out the mac and cheese. Me dumping the rest of the bowl on him in response.

Fang on the beach, that first time he was badly injured. Me realizing how I felt about him.

Fang kissing me. So close I couldn't even see his dark eyes anymore. The first time. The second time. The third.

I could always remember each and every one of them. Would always remember them.

Fang.

Not.

Dead. ~ James Patterson

And my father left me a legacy of his handwriting through letters and a notebook. In the last two years of his life, when he was sick, he filled a notebook with his thoughts about me ... There are times when I want to trade all those years that I was too busy to sit with my dad and chat with him, and trade all those years for one hug. But too late. But that's when I take out his letters and I read them, and the paper that touched his hand is in mine, and I feel connected to him. ~ Lakshmi Pratury

I'm sorry you want him," Matthew began in a careful tone, as if he was trying very hard to say the exact right thing to me. "I feel your heart - it actually aches. I wish it didn't, Evie. You cannot have him."
I glared down at him. "Why would you say that?"
"You don't want to be Arcana. But you are." He gazed up at me with those soulful eyes. "Jack's not."
"So what are you, like, a card purist or something? ~ Kresley Cole

Swallowing hard, she looked at him.
He raised his eyes from the frothy concoction on his spoon at the precise moment she looked up, and their gazes
locked over the length of the polished wood table. Where would you drip whipped cream on him, Lisa? The answer
came with frightening swiftness and conviction: Everywhere. She wanted to explore his body, the hard ripples, the smooth skin. The candlelight bathed his olive skin with a golden hue, and his dark good looks were set off perfectly by his linen shirt and the splash of black and crimson draped across his chest. He was mesmerizing.
"Are you hungry, lass?" He licked his spoon languidly. She couldn't tear her gaze away. "No. I've eaten quite
enough," she managed.
"You seem to be watching my dessert most intently. Are you certain there isn't something else you wish to sate your appetite?"
Besides you to remove your clothing, lie on the table, and let me finger paint you with whipped cream, you mean?
"Nope," she said casually. "Not a thing." She watched him for a moment; he still had a great deal of dessert left. How was she going to get through this? ~ Karen Marie Moning

Ronan taught me that children do not exist to honor their parents; their parents exist to honor them. [ ... ] Ronan was mine but he never belonged to me. This is not an issue of ownership. A child is not a couch. ~ Emily Rapp

I wish you the best of luck," Grey said politely. "And I do hope that the gentleman Tom saw in the custody of the press gang was Mr. Gormley. However - if he was, does this not rather obviate your conclusion that he was in possession of incriminating information regarding the perpetrator?"

Jones gave him a glassy look, and Tom Byrd looked reproving.

"Now, me lord, you know you oughtn't talk like that at this hour of the morning. You got to pardon his lordship, sir," he said apologetically to Jones. "His father - the duke, you know - had him schooled in logic. He can't really help it, like."

(Haunted Soldier) ~ Diana Gabaldon

By the way-" Jim stopped her "-I spoke with Mary and set her straight about who was seduced by whom a few weeks ago."
Lauren sighed defeatedly. "I wish you hadn't..."
"Be damned glad I did. Mary worked for Nick's grandfather, and she's known Nick since he was a baby.She's fiercely loyal to him. She's also a staunch moralist with a particular dislike for aggressive young women who pursue Nick. She'd have made your life a living hell."
"If she's such a staunch moralist," Lauren said mutinously, "I can't imagine how she can possibly work for Nick."
Jim winked. "Nick and I are great favorites of hers.She's convinced that the two of us aren't beyond redemption. ~ Judith McNaught

That is what I thought of you, Ellie. Heartless, reckless, selfish, and cruel."
He was back to shooting me when my armor was down. I turned my face away from him, not wanting to let him see the hurt in my eyes. He reached up and put his fingers under my chin, bringing my face forward again, forcing me to look at him.
"Beautiful, sad, wounded, and lost," he continued. "A freak, a work of art, a liar, and a lover."
His gaze was starting to eat away at my insides. Razor-blade butterflies whirled in my heart.
"I hate you, Ellie Watt," he whispered, lips coming closer to mine, "because I still love you after all these years. ~ Karina Halle

... she refused to allow anyone - even Miguel - to refer to Majnoun as 'her' dog.
- I'm as much his as he's mine, she'd insist.
Her friends - and her husband - thought this an annoying eccentricity. Majnoun knew what she meant - that she was not his master - and he was grateful. But in his heart he felt as if he did belong to her, in the sense that he was a part of Nira and she a part of him. ~ Andre Alexis

I remember a buddy of mine once telling me that every woman you loved was a mother and sister you didn't have, at once, and that what you were always really looking for was the female part of yourself, your female animal or something. This guy could get away with saying something like that because he was a junkie and read books. ~ Nic Pizzolatto

Patrick's handsome face descended toward mine. He stopped when he was just a whisper away. "You have a beautiful mouth."
God, he was magnificent. Such harsh, sensual beauty. The luck of genetics and vampirism and gym time? Who knew?
He watched me watching him and I knew he was probably in my head, listening in on my thoughts, my confusion. He grinned, just a little, and I knew that rotten, ugly, fat troll was reading my mind.
He laughed, unrepentant, and his breath plumed my lips. How the hell did he do that? How could he pretend to breathe? Or better yet, why did he pretend to breathe? ~ Michele Bardsley

Ethan Hawke is not a horror movie fan, but he's a really good friend of mine, and I finally cajoled him into doing 'Sinister.' Later, he said one of the reasons he was really resistant to doing a horror movie is he thought it'd be really scary on set. ~ Jason Blum

Just as abruptly, he'd become a father. While preparing the book for publication, he'd been dating a woman named Sarah Coowe, an infectious-disease specialist at MGH. They were evenly matched in many ways: sharp-dressed, sharp-tongued, and devoted to their careers and personal freedoms to the exclusion of any serious interest in so-called romance. They spent ten months together. A few weeks after they broke up -- Sarah initiated the split -- she called to say that she was pregnant. "It's mine?" asked Affenlight. "He or she," replied Sarah, "is mostly mine."

They named the child Pella -- that was Affenlight's idea, though Sarah certainly had the final say. For those first couple of years, Affenlight conspired as often as he could to show up at Sarah and Pella's Kendall Square townhouse with expensive takeout and a new toy. He was fascinated with his daughter, with the sheer reality of her, a beautiful something where before there'd been nothing. He hated kissing her good-bye; and yet he relished, couldn't keep himself from relishing, the total quiet of his townhouse when he walked in, the scattered books and papers and lack of baby-proofing. ~ Chad Harbach

You asked me why I'm here," he murmured, leaning in so he was so close his lips brushed mine as he spoke. "This is why I'm here, Rimmel. Can't you feel it too?"
My eyes drifted closed and I nodded. The small movement bumped our lips fully together and neither of us pulled away.
- Romeo & Rimmel ~ Cambria Hebert

I think I'll say goodnight here," Jack said.
"My dad's not so bad."
"Oh yeah,he was great...right up until the time I started dating his daughter."
I'd seen how my dad had become considerably colder toward Jack. There were little clues,like the other evening when out of nowhere he told Jack about how every football player he went to high school with had gotten fat after graduation.We'd been talking about what to make for dinner.
"Okay," I said. "Maybe next time." I leaned over to peck him on the cheek, but he grabbed my face in both of his hands and kissed me. His breath tasted like the mints the chaperones had passed out when the dance was over, and when he parted his lips against mine, I shivered, but not because of the cold. I pressed against him even more and hoped the dark inside the car obscured my dad's view.
But I knew better than to push it.As I was about to break away,Jack put his hands behind my waist and pulled me even closer,practically lifting me over the center console,so I was sitting in his lap.
I pulled back. "My dad's going to love that-"
He put his finger over my lips, cutting me off. "Please don't talk about your dad when I'm kissing you. Besides, unless he's enacted a law against it-"
"Which he may well do after tonight," I interrupted.
He smiled and then brought my face to his again for a few moments before finally releasing me.
"After that kiss,we'd better dream of the same thing tonight," he said with ~ Brodi Ashton

Adam was the author of sin, and I wish he had taken out an international copyright on it. ~ Mark Twain

As Ian looked at her, he felt something in his chest slip and shift. The pressure came with a blood-tingling rush of triumph and satisfaction, pride and a deeply burning sense of possessiveness. His inner caveman warrior had been awakened and wanted to rush around the room, peeing into the corners, marking it - and her - as his own, while shouting Mine! and randomly smashing things for emphasis.
But he knew that was he was feeling was the equivalent of emotional and hormonal indigestion. He hadn't done this in a long time. And he particularly hadn't done it with a woman he liked as much as this one. In fact, he'd never had sex with anyone that he genuinely liked as much as he liked Phoebe. ~ Suzanne Brockmann

He let go of her hands and cut her off, placing a finger over her lips as he rubbed her arm.
"The only thing I want tonight is you. The only thing you need to know tonight is I'm going to have you...as I wish...for as long as I wish." He rolled his head in a circle to stretch before looking directly back into her eyes, and added as an afterthought, "Hmm... Hurt you? Your arousal will likely hurt you excruciatingly until I allow your release."

And as his sensual voice streaked through her, Kate's mind shorted out like a tripped wire snapping, completely blank. Her whole body betrayed her yet again by flushing with unrestrainable heat.

"Stay as you are, Kate." He pushed the bunched-up nightgown at her waist, down to the floor to pool at her feet. Shivering hard, she moved her hands to cover her nakedness, dropping her head to her chest, avoiding his steady gaze. Grabbing her hands, he moved them back to her sides. He lifted her chin high to face him and said, "I told you to stay as you were, Kate. You will do good to listen to me."

His fingers pressed into her hair, curling a bit of it around her ear as he leaned in to the side of her head. His voice lowered seductively until it was a purr in her ear. "I know how to please a woman to the point her voice is hoarse from her screams of desire, her bed linens soaked, and her legs quivering for hours after I'm done." His lips scantly apart from her ear, his voice dropping lower, he continued, ~ Elaine Barris

Your life is carefully watched over, as was mine. The Lord knows both what He will need you to do and what you will need to know. He is kind and He is all-knowing. So you can with confidence expect that He has prepared opportunities for you to learn in preparation for the service you will give. You will not recognize those opportunities perfectly, as I did not. But when you put the spiritual things first in your life, you will be blessed to feel directed toward certain learning, and you will be motivated to work harder. You will recognize later that your power to serve was increased, and you will be grateful. ~ Henry B. Eyring

From the screen, a huge white face had looked at him, a face with a mouth one wished one could wish to kiss, and eyes that made one wonder - a wonder which was pain - just what it was they were seeing. He felt as if there was something - deep in his brain, behind everything he thought and everything he was - which he did not know, but she knew, and he wished he did, and wondered whether he could ever know it, and should he, if he could, and why he wished ~ Ayn Rand

Also, he was kind of cute. Not really, of course, since he was the enemy, and the enemy cannot possibly be cute. He was only cute enough to make me wish I could free my hands so that I could fix my hair. I mean, fix my hair, then punch him in the face, and then run. ~ Leila Sales

One example is the familiar parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32), which in some ways might be better called the parable of the elder brother. For the point of the parable as a whole - a point frequently overlooked by Christian interpreters, in their eagerness to stress the uniqueness and particularity of the church as the prodigal younger son who has been restored to the father's favor - is in the closing words of the father to the elder brother, who stands for the people of Israel: 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.' The historic covenant between God and Israel was permanent, and it was into this covenant that other peoples too, were now being introduced. This parable of Jesus affirmed both the tradition of God's continuing relation with Israel and the innovation of God's new relation with the church - a twofold covenant. ~ Jaroslav Pelikan

She wanted to say something smart and kind, put together some combination of words to reach him where he'd reached her with his. But the thing was, there was more courage in these revelations of his than she had ever shown anyone, and in a world that was full of taking and cruelty, he was fucking breaking her heart with what he was giving her. ~ J.R. Ward

His mouth was on mine then, and I couldn't fight him. Not because he was so many thousand times stronger than me, but because my will crumbled into dust the second our lips met. This kiss was not quite as careful as others I remembered, which suited me just fine. If I was going to rip myself up further, I might as well get as much in trade as possible.
So I kissed him back, my heart pounding out a jagged, disjointed rhythm while my breathing turned to panting and my fingers moved greedily to his face. I could feel his marble body against every line of mine, and I was so glad he hadn't listened to me―there was no pain in the world that would have justified missing this. His hand memorized my face, the same way mine were tracing his, and, in the brief seconds when his lips were free, he whispered my name. ~ Stephenie Meyer

Jenna, you have Vix, and Archer, you have…Actually, what do you have?"
"You," he said firmly. "And a whole bunch of holy knights who want to kill me."
"Vix can visit," Jenna said. "And the school will be a good place now, so it's not like one more year will be torture. Although," she said, frowning, "I will admit the place is pretty awful to look at. I don't know how we're going to fix that."
Facing the pond, staring at that green, green grass, I gave a shuddery laugh. "I don't think we have to worry about the island," I said, wiping stray tears with the back of my hand. "It's being healed."
"Well, there you have it, then," Archer said. "Vix can come for a visit, the island will eventually be a heck of a lot less depressing, and I'm not leaving you ever again."
"Yeah, and we still have to deal with The Eye being…Eyeish, and me learning to be Head of the Council, which will probably involve lots of boring books and-"
Archer pressed his mouth to mine, effectively shutting me up and kissing the hell out of me. When he pulled back, he was grinning. "And you have an arrogant, screwed-up former demon hunter who is stupidly in love with you."
"And an angsty vampire who will walk into hell with you. Actually, who has walked into hell with you," Jenna added, coming around to my other side.
"And parents who love you, and who are probably making out back at the car," Archer said, and I laughed.
"So, really," Jenna said, and looped her arm thr ~ Rachel Hawkins

waiting for the other shoe to drop. Did you know it originated in cities like Chicago and New York?" "No. I did not" He tilted his head, his mouth hooking upward to one side as though he were trying not to laugh. "Tell me about it."He was teasing me again. "Well, it did. So…"He lifted his eyebrows, "That's all? You're not going to tell me the specific origin of the idiom waiting for the other shoe to drop'?"I shook my head, "I don't know it."He mimicked me and shook his head in response, "You're lying. You do know.""Nope. I don't.""This is just like the mammals." He sighed and placed his phone on the table. Before he took a bite from his sandwich he said, "You're stingy with information."My frowned deepened, "No, I'm not-"His words were somewhat garbled as he spoke between chewing, "You're an information tease.""What?!""Or maybe you don't really know the origin and you're just making things up to impress me-" he took another bite. "I am not! It originates from the late industrial revolution, in the late 19th and early 20th century.Apartments were all built with the same floor plan, in similar design so one tenant's bedroom was
under another's. Therefore it was normal to hear an upstairs neighbor removing his or her shoes and hearing one shoe hit the floor, then the other, when they undressed at night.""I wonder what else they heard." His gaze held mine, seemed to burn with a new intensity."I suppose anything that was loud enough. ~ Penny Reid

Time, That Is Pleased to Lengthen out the Day

Time, that is pleased to lengthen out the day
For grieving lovers parted or denied,
And pleased to hurry the sweet hours away
From such as lie enchanted side by side,
Is not my kinsman; nay, my feudal foe
Is he that in my childhood was the thief
Of all my mother's beauty, and in woe
My father bowed, and brought our house to grief.
Thus, though he think to touch with hateful frost
Your treasured curls, and your clear forehead line,
And so persuade me from you, he has lost;
Never shall he inherit what was mine.
When Time and all his tricks have done their worst,
Still will I hold you dear, and him accurst. ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

I'd once had a long-term relationship with a Five Point Five that got nowhere near living together. This was because I was a Two Point Five, he was a Five Point Five and he wanted a Nine Point Five. Therefore, we were both destined for a broken heart. He gave me mine. He later found a Six Point Five that wanted a Nine Point Five. She got herself a breast enhancement and nose job which made her a firm Seven (if you didn't count the fact that she thought she was a Ten point Five and acted like it which really knocked her down to a Six) who broke his heart. ~ Kristen Ashley

Epitaphs are cheap, and they do a poor chap a world of good after he is dead, especially if he had hard luck while he was alive. I wish they were used more. ~ Mark Twain

Soup's here," Judd finally said after we watched each other for a few minutes.
As I sipped the broth, Judd pretended to ignore me. I knew he wasn't really watching television. His face was too perfectly stoic like he was working hard to make himself seem cold.
"Do you want the rest?" I asked.
Judd frowned at me. "If I wanted soup, I'd have ordered myself some. I'm not a dog begging for scraps."
Scowling at his ridiculous anger, I shrugged. "I don't want to waste the rest. Can we put it in the mini fridge and I'll eat it in the morning?"
Judd's frown eased. "Fuck it. I'll eat it."
"No, it's mine," I said, standing up. "I offered and you got grumpy. Now, you can't have it."
"I'll just eat it after you go to sleep."
"I respect your honesty," I said, setting the bowl into the little fridge next to the expensive treats. "It's a rare quality in a thief."
Judd grinned. ~ Bijou Hunter

Jessica frowned at her. "It was very difficult to keep a straight face - but that wasn't the hardest part. The hardest part was - " She let out a sigh. "Oh, Genevieve. He was so adorable. I wanted to kiss him. Right on his big, beautiful nose. And then everywhere else. It was so frustrating. I had made up my mind not to lose my temper, but I did. And so I beat him and beat him until he kissed me. And then I kept on beating him until he did it properly. And I had better tell you, mortifying as it is to admit, that if we had not been struck by lightning - or very nearly - I should be utterly ruined. Against a lamppost. On the Rue de Provence. And the horrible part is" - she groaned - "I wish I had been. ~ Loretta Chase