You Are So Good To Me Quotes

Then why is the prison so fine, and why are you so kind to me?" he earnestly asked. Tollydiggle seemed surprised by the question, but she presently answered: "We consider a prisoner unfortunate. He is unfortunate in two ways - because he has done something wrong and because he is deprived of his liberty. Therefore we should treat him kindly, because of his misfortune, for otherwise he would become hard and bitter and would not be sorry he had done wrong. Ozma thinks that one who has committed a fault did so because he was not strong and brave; therefore she puts him in prison to make him strong and brave. When that is accomplished he is no longer a prisoner, but a good and loyal citizen and everyone is glad that he is now strong enough to resist doing wrong. You see, it is kindness that makes one strong and brave; and so we are kind to our prisoners. ~ L. Frank Baum

If you sum up your judgment of me, the result you get is that, although you don't charge me with anything downright improper or wicked . . . , you do charge me with coldness, estrangements and ingratitude. And, what is more, you charge me with it in such a way as to make it seem my fault, as though I might have been able, with something like a touch on the steering wheel, to make everything quite different, while you aren't in the slightest to blame, unless it be for having been too good to me.
This, your usual way of representing it, I regard as accurate only in so far as I too believe you are entirely blameless in the matter of our estrangement. But I am equally entirely blameless. If I could get you to acknowledge this, then what would be possible is - not, I think, a new life, we are both much too old for that - but still, a kind of peace . . . ~ Franz Kafka

As the bus passed a long stretch of coastline, for the first time I took no pleasure in the sight of it. The water was almost still and the sun seemed to be sinking into it. But this time the beauty wasn't enough. Usually just a glimpse of it could put me in an instant good mood, but now I realized - I'd always known, but never realized - that you can't escape to the sea. This isn't Han Shan's China or Thoreau's America. That's all gone now. If you decided you'd had enough and went off to live by the sea or up a mountain, you still couldn't get away from the need for money. They've made it so that money and sustenance are the same thing. ~ Barry Graham

I am not so much fun
Anymore;
Couldn't carry the role of ingenue
In a bucket, you say, laughing.

And I want to punch you.
I was never innocent, but
Thanks to you I know things
I wish I did not remember.

You don't like it
When I talk to the man myself,
Specifying quantities and
Give him the money
Instead of giving it to you
And letting you take care of it.

You keep asking me,
Where's the dope?
Until I finally say,
I hid it.
The look you give me is
Pure bile.

Well, fuck you.
This isn't like Buying somebody a drink.
You don't leave your stash out
Where I might find it.

Finally I think I've made you wait
Long enough,
So I get out the little paper envelope
And hand it to you.
You are still in charge of
This part, so you relax.
Performing your junky ritual with
Your favorite razor blade, until
I ask you how to calculate my dose
So I won't O.D. when I do this
And you're not around.

Then you really flip.
You tell me it's a bad idea
For me to do this with other people.

**

Was it such a good idea
For me to do it with you?
Do you wait for me to turn up
Once every three months
So you can get high?
Is this our version of that famous
Lesbian fight about
Nonmonogamy?

Let me ~ Patrick Califia-Rice

You're holding a challenge in a fencing club?"

"Yes. Is there something wrong with that?" He pulled on his black pants and the heavy silk green shirt I loved for him to wear because the material seemed to caress hisskin.

No, it's just kind of an incongruous place to hold something so serious as a challenge, isn't it?"

He finished with his shoes, grabbed another towel, and shook it out for me. I made sure Pal still had his back to me, hurrying out of the pool to clasp the towel around me.

"It is no less incongruous than holding a challenge in a bar."

I smiled. "Yes, but my challenge to you wasn't serious. I hope you'll notice that I'm not freaking out about this at all. I haven't even asked you how good you are with asword."

"I noticed." His mouth burned on mine for a moment, his fire being shared between us as his tongue twined around mine in a fiery - albeit brief - dance. "You are learning to have faith in me as is proper between a mateand her wyvern."

"No, I am learning to ask around. Pal told me earlier today that Dmitri had picked swords and that you were pleased because you were some sort of master swordsman a few centuries ago. You'd better not have forgotten anything."

Pal peeked at me out of the corner of his eye, his grin not too obvious. Drake pinched my bare behind as punishment for my saucy tone. "I never forget. Istvan will drive you when you are ready. The challenge is not f ~ Katie MacAlister

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was so pissed off at what happened, at myself, I didn't think."
He stroked a hand down her hair first, then gave the choppy ends a quick tug. "I'm not angry with you."
"I know. You could be, but you're not. So I have to be even sorrier."
"Your logic is fascinating, and elusive."
"I can't pay you back with sex or salt-crusted sea bass or whatever because you're too busy taking care of me. So now I've got this black mark in my column against the bright shiny star in yours, and - "
He tipped her head up. "Are we keeping score?"
"No. Maybe. Shit."
"How am I doing?"
"Undisputed champ."
"Good. I like to win." He brushed her bangs back to study the injury himself. "You'll do. Let's eat. ~ J.D. Robb

The central attitudes driving Rambo are:
Strength and aggressiveness are good; compassion and conflict resolution are bad.
Anything that could be even remotely associated with homosexuality, including walking away from possible violence or showing any fear or grief, has to be avoided at any cost.
Femaleness and femininity (which he associates with homosexuality) are inferior. Women are here to serve men and be protected by them.
Men should never hit women, because it is unmanly to do so. However, exceptions to this rule can be made for my own partner if her behavior is bad enough. Men need to keep their women in line.
You are a thing that belongs to me, akin to a trophy. ~ Lundy Bancroft

I didn't want to answer any weird questions about Ren. I knew he'd probably tell his side of the story when he became a man again, but I didn't care. I kept my version of the trip factual, unemotional, and, more importantly, Renless.
Mr. Kadam said we'd be stopping at a hotel soon, but he wanted to find a good place to leave Ren first. I demurred, "Of course," and smiled a sickly sweet smile back at the attentive tiger.
Mr. Kadam worried, "I hope our hotel won't be too far away for him."
I patted Mr. Kadam's arm and reassured him, "Oh, don't worry about him. He's very good at getting what he wants. I mean…taking care of his needs. I'm sure he'll find his long night alone in the jungle extremely enlightening." Mr. Kadam shot me a puzzled glance, but he eventually nodded and pulled over near a forested area.
Ren got out of the Jeep, came around to my side of the car, and stared at me with icy blue eyes. I just turned my body away so I wouldn't have to look at him. When Mr. Kadam got back in the Jeep, I peeked out my window again, but Ren was gone. I reminded myself that he deserved it an sat back against the seat with my arms folded over my chest and an intense expression on my face.
Mr. Kadam spoke softly, "Kelsey, are you alright? You seem very…tense, since I last saw you."
I muttered under my breath, "You have no idea. ~ Colleen Houck

And then he's grabbing my hand, and pulling me into a storage room they use for art supplies. And he puts his finger to his lips, and the walls are filled with pads of paper and boxes of colored pencils and jars of paint,
and I'm laughing
and he shuts the door behind us
and leans up against it to stop anyone coming in
and like he's trying to get up his nerve now that he's started something,
before we've ever gone to the dumplings and the movies -
he leans in and kisses me.
His lips are cold. The kiss is soft. He has gum in his mouth, and he stops, and giggles nervously, and takes it out and throws it in the trash can,
and looks like he feels embarrassed to have kissed me with the gum,
but I don't care,
and so now I kiss him,
and he's tall enough that he has to bend down to get to me,
and I put my hand on his neck, which is smooth and warm,
and we kiss for a minute in the storage room,and I want to run my hands up his shirt suddenly -
but I don't.
He pulls away for a second and touches my cheek.
"I thought you'd never ask," he whispers.
"I thought I never would either," I say, "but I did."
"Good job," he says, and kisses me again. ~ E. Lockhart

So began my love affair with books. Years later, as a college student, I remember having a choice between a few slices of pizza that would have held me over for a day or a copy of On the Road. I bought the book. I would have forgotten what the pizza tasted like, but I still remember Kerouac.
The world was mine for the reading. I traveled with my books. I was there on a tramp steamer in the North Atlantic with the Hardy Boys, piecing together an unsolvable crime. I rode into the Valley of Death with the six hundred and I stood at the graves of Uncas and Cora and listened to the mournful song of the Lenni Linape. Although I braved a frozen death at Valley Forge and felt the spin of a hundred bullets at Shiloh, I was never afraid. I was there as much as you are where you are, right this second. I smelled the gunsmoke and tasted the frost. And it was good to be there. No one could harm me there. No one could punch me, slap me, call me stupid, or pretend I wasn't in the room. The other kids raced through books so they could get the completion stamp on their library card. I didn't care about that stupid completion stamp. I didn't want to race through books. I wanted books to walk slowly through me, stop, and touch my brain and my memory. If a book couldn't do that, it probably wasn't a very good book. Besides, it isn't how much you read, it's what you read.
What I learned from books, from young Ben Franklin's anger at his brother to Anne Frank's longing for the way her ~ John William Tuohy

I think a lot of times it just looks like Hollywood actors in Halloween costumes, you know? And I think what we're going to do with Fantastic Four is going to be very grounded and it made sense to me. When I read the script, I didn't feel like I was reading this larger-than-life, incredible superhero tale. These are all very human people that end up having to become I guess what is known as the Fantastic Four. So for me it was just a really good story and gives me an opportunity to play something different from my own skin. It's a proper character and that's my favorite stuff to do. ~ Miles Teller

Papa talks enough of my defects, and shows enough scorn of me, to make it natural I should doubt myself. I doubt whether I am not altogether as worthless as he calls me, frequently; and then I feel so cross and bitter, I hate everybody! I am worthless, and bad in temper, and bad in spirit, almost always; and, if you choose, you may say good-bye: you'll get rid of an annoyance. Only, Catherine, do me this justice: believe that if I might be as sweet, and as kind, and as good as you are, I would be; as willingly, and more so, than as happy and as healthy. And believe that your kindness has made me love you deeper than if I deserved your love: and though I couldn't, and cannot help showing my nature to you, I regret it and repent it; and shall regret and repent it till I die! ~ Emily Bronte

If I were the Devil . . . I mean, if I were the Prince of Darkness, I would of course, want to engulf the whole earth in darkness. I would have a third of its real estate and four-fifths of its population, but I would not be happy until I had seized the ripest apple on the tree, so I should set about however necessary to take over the United States. I would begin with a campaign of whispers. With the wisdom of a serpent, I would whisper to you as I whispered to Eve: "Do as you please." "Do as you please." To the young, I would whisper, "The Bible is a myth." I would convince them that man created God instead of the other way around. I would confide that what is bad is good, and what is good is "square". In the ears of the young marrieds, I would whisper that work is debasing, that cocktail parties are good for you. I would caution them not to be extreme in religion, in patriotism, in moral conduct. And the old, I would teach to pray. I would teach them to say after me: "Our Father, which art in Washington" . . .

If I were the devil, I'd educate authors in how to make lurid literature exciting so that anything else would appear dull an uninteresting. I'd threaten T.V. with dirtier movies and vice versa. And then, if I were the devil, I'd get organized. I'd infiltrate unions and urge more loafing and less work, because idle hands usually work for me. I'd peddle narcotics to whom I could. I'd sell alcohol to ladies and gentlemen of distinction. And I'd tranquilize the ~ Paul Harvey

Hours may have passed before I heard a throat clear behind us, saw Dad appear. His frame blocked out the sun, casting a cool shadow over where we lay.

I registered only once he was there that I had slowly shifted so I was lying with my head on Elliot's stomach, in our secluded stretch of sand. I pushed to sit up, awkwardly.

"What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing," we said in unison.

I could hear immediately how guilty our joined answer made us sound.

"Really?" Dad asked.

"Really," I answered, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. He and Elliot were having some kind of male Windtalker exchange that included prolonged eye contact, throat clearing, and probably some mysterious form of direct communication between their Y chromosomes.

"We were just reading," Elliot said finally, his voice shifting deeper midway through the sentence. I'm not sure if this sign of his impending manliness was reassuring or damning as far as my dad was concerned.

"Seriously, Dad," I said.

His eyes flickered to mine.

"Okay." Finally he seemed to relax and squatted down next to me. "What are you reading?"

"A Wrinkle in Time."

"Again?"

"It's so good. ~ Christina Lauren

You can believe what you like. Not everyone can love. We–and they–may believe that, but it is so. They learn the movements, the lines and the steps, that's all. Some of them are so good they can fool us for quite a while. What surprises me is not that they succeed, but that they can be bothered. Why go to all the effort to have a feeling reciprocated which you don't understand? Do you understand, Constable? ~ Jo Nesbø

JOHN: I'll tell you a story about myself. Do you mind? I was raised to think myself stupid. That's what I want to tell you.

CAROL: What do you mean?

JOHN: Just what I said. I was brought up, and my earliest, and most persistent memories are of being told that I was stupid. "You have such intelligence. Why must you behave so stupidly?" Or, "Can't you understand? Can't you understand?" And I could not understand. I could not understand.

CAROL: What?

JOHN: The simplest problem. Was beyond me. It was a mystery.

CAROL: What was a mystery?

JOHN: How people learn. How I could learn. Which is what I've been speaking of in class. And of course, you can't hear it. Carol. Of course, you can't. (Pause) I used to speak of "real people," and wonder what the real people did. The real people. Who were they? They were the people other than myself. The good people. The capable people. The people who could do the things, I could not do: learn, study, retain ... all that garbage – which is what I have been talking of in class, and that's exactly what I have been talking of – If you are told ... Listen to this. If the young child is told, he cannot understand. Then he takes it as a description of himself. What am I? I am that which cannot understand. And I saw you out there, when we were speaking of the concepts of...

CAROL: I can't understand any of them.

JOHN: Well, then, that's my fault. That's not your fau ~ David Mamet

Dear Mama: The reason I didn't write last Sunday was because I was out of town. My friend Pound invited me to spend Saturday and Sunday with him … His parents are very nice people and have always been exceptionally kind to me. Mrs. Pound had prepared a fine meal … After supper Pound and I went to his room where we had a long talk on subjects that I love yet have not time to study and which he is making a life work of. That is literature, and the drama and the classics, also a little philosophy. He, Pound, is a fine fellow; he is the essence of optimism and has a cast-iron faith that is something to admire. If he ever does get blue nobody knows it, so he is just the man for me. But not one person in a thousand likes him, and a great many people detest him and why? Because he is so darned full of conceits and affectation. He is really a brilliant talker and thinker but delights in making himself just exactly what he is not: a laughing boor. His friends must be all patience in order to find him out and even then you must not let him know it, for he will immediately put on some artificial mood and be really unbearable. It is too bad, for he loves to be liked, yet there is some quality in him which makes him too proud to try to please people. I am sure his only fault is an exaggeration of a trait that in itself is good and in every way admirable. He is afraid of being taken in if he trusts his really tender heart to mercies of a cruel crowd and so keeps it hidden and trusts no one ~ William Carlos Williams

They will eat him alive. On his current course, Henry will fail spectacularly."

My chest constricts so tight it feels like my bones may crack.

Because she's right.

"He won't."

"You don't know that," she swipes back.

"I damn well do! I never would have abdicated otherwise."

"What?"

"Don't mistake me - I wouldn't have married anyone but Olivia, and I would've waited a lifetime if I had to, until the laws were changed. But I didn't because I knew in my heart and soul that Henry will not just be a good king, he will be better than I ever could've been."

For a moment I don't breathe. I can't. The shock of my brother's words has knocked the air right out of my lungs.

Granny's too, if her whisper is any indication.

"You truly believe that?"

"Absolutely. And, frankly, I'm disheartened that you don't."

"Henry has never been one to rise to the occasion," she states plainly.

"He's never needed to," my brother insists. "He's never been asked - not once in his whole life. Until now. And he will not only rise to the occasion . . . he will soar beyond it."

The Queen's voice is hushed, like she's in prayer.

"I want to believe that. More than I can say. Lend me a bit of your faith, Nicholas. Why are you so certain?"

Nicholas's voice is rough, tight with emotion.

"Because . . . he's just like Mum."

~ Emma Chase

I don't want to tiptoe around her or him or you anymore.
The only thing that's doing us making it harder for me to remember her.
Sometimes i try to concentrate on her voice just so i can hear her again-
The way she always said 'Hey there' when she was in a good mood,
An 'Vi-o-let' when she was annoyed.
For some reason, these are the easiest ones.
I concentrate on them, and when i have them.
I hold on to them because i don't ever want to forget how she sounded.
Like it or not,
She was here and now she's gone.
But she doesn't have to be completely gone. ~ Jennifer Niven

Mom," Vaughn said. "I'm sure Sidney doesn't want to be interrogated about her personal life."

Deep down, Sidney knew that Vaughn - who'd obviously deduced that she'd been burned in the past - was only trying to be polite. But that was the problem, she didn't want him to be polite, as if she needed to be shielded from such questions. That wasn't any better than the damn "Poor Sidney" head-tilt.

"It's okay, I don't mind answering." She turned to Kathleen. "I was seeing someone in New York, but that relationship ended shortly before I moved to Chicago."

"So now that you're single again, what kind of man are you looking for? Vaughn?" Kathleen pointed. "Could you pass the creamer?"

He did so, then turned to look once again at Sidney. His lips curved at the corners, the barest hint of a smile. He was daring her, she knew, waiting for her to back away from his mother's questions.

She never had been very good at resisting his dares.

"Actually, I have a list of things I'm looking for." Sidney took a sip of her coffee.

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "You have a list?"

"Yep."

"Of course you do."

Isabelle looked over, surprised. "You never told me about this."

"What kind of list?" Kathleen asked interestedly.

"It's a test, really," Sidney said. "A list of characteristics that indicate whether a man is ready for a serious relationship. It helps weed out the commit ~ Julie James

So often when we say 'I love you' we say it with a huge 'I' and a small 'you'. We use love as a conjunction instead of it being a verb implying action. It's no good just gazing out into open space hoping to see the Lord; instead we have to look closely at our neighbour, someone whom God has willed into existence, someone whom God has died for. Everyone we meet has a aright to exist, because he has value in himself, and we are not used to this. The acceptance of otherness is a danger to us, it threatens us. To recognise the other's right to be himself might mean recognising his right to kill me. But if we set a limit to this right to exist, it's no right at all. Love is difficult. Christ was crucified because he taught a kind of love which is a terror for men, a love which demands total surrender: it spells death. ~ Anthony Bloom

My God, what do we want? What does any human being want? Take away an accident of pigmentation of a thin layer of our outer skin and there is no difference between me and anyone else. All we want is for that trivial difference to make no difference. What can I say to a man who asks that? All I can do is try to explain to him why he asks the question. You have looked at us for years as different from you that you may never see us really. You don't understand because you think of us as second-class humans. We have been passive and accommodating through so many years of your insults and delays that you think the way things used to be is normal. When the good-natured, spiritual-singing boys and girls rise up against the white man and demand to be treated like he is, you are bewildered. All we want is what you want, no less and no more. (Chapter 13). ~ Shirley Chisholm

I've shared more breakfasts with you than
any woman I've dated in the last year and a half," Mitch returned.
"I know what you look like in the morning. I know what you act like
when you come home tired after work. I know that you pick the least
expensive thing on the menu either to be nice or to be annoying in
order to put me off. But I think it's to be nice because you
are nice and also both times you thought you'd be spending
time with just me, you dressed in a way that would not, in any way,
put me off. I know you cuddle when you're sleeping. I know you take
only milk in your coffee and you make coffee strong. I know you're
really good with kids. And I know that you use music and scents to
regulate your mood. So I'm thinking this is not a first date. This
is more like us hittin' the six month mark. And the six month mark
is when you stop talkin' about shit that really doesn't matter and
start talkin' about shit that means everything. ~ Kristen Ashley

So we have to make sure we stop it here," he said.
"Exactly. Well,you asked me to get you as close to the water as possible.I presume you have a plan?"
"My love,I always have a plan."
They heard footsteps rattling behind them and turned as Prometheus and Niten came hurrying up. They were both carrying fishing rods over their shoulders.The slender Japanese man grinned. "Do not ask him how much it cost to hire these," he said.
"How much?" Nicholas asked.
"Too much," Prometheus answered furiously. "I could have bought an entire fishing boat,or at least a very good fish dinner,for what it cost to rent them for a couple of hours," he grumbled. "Plus a deposit in case we don't bring them back."
"What's the plan?" Niten asked. He held out an empty bucket. "We can'nt really go fishing. We don't have bait."
"Oh,but we do." Nicholas smiled. "You are our bait. ~ Michael Scott

The last words he said to me when I bade him good-night were:
Tell Amy it's no good coming after me. Anyhow, I shall change my hotel, so she wouldn't be able to find me.'
My own impression is that she's well rid of you,' I said.
My dear fellow, I only hope you'll be able to make her see it. But women are very unintelligent. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

i will tell you about selfish people. even when they know they will hurt you they walk into your life to taste you because you are the type of being they don't want to miss out on. you are too much shine to not be felt. so when they have gotten a good look at everything you have to offer. when they have taken your skin your hair and your secrets with them. when they realize how real this is. how much of a storm you are and it hits them.

that is when the cowardice sets in. that is when the person you thought they were is replaced by the sad reality of what they are. that is when they lose every fighting bone in their body and leave after saying you will find better than me.

you will stand there naked with half of them still hidden somewhere inside you and sob. asking them why they did it. why they forced you to love them when they had no intention of loving you back and they'll say something along the lines of i just had to try. i had to give it a chance. it was you after all.

but that isn't romantic. it isn't sweet. the idea that they were so engulfed by your existence they had to risk breaking it for the sake of knowing they weren't the one missing out. your existence meant that little next to their curiosity of you. ~ Rupi Kaur

What I must learn is to love with all of me, giving all of me, and yet remain whole in myself. Any other kind of love is too demanding of the other; it takes, rather than gives. To love so completely that you lose yourself in another person is not good. You are giving a weight, not the sense of lightness and light that loving someone should give. ~ Madeleine L'Engle

"So good to see you again, little luv. How I've missed you."
Gasping, I fall to my knees. The Caterpillar and the moth and the winged guy. They are all one and the same. They have been all along ...
"I've seen that bug," Jeb says. "In your car. On the mirror." He drops the backpack and grips my shoulders, trying to drag me ti my feet. My legs won't cooperate.
"Tut-tut. You are never to bow to me, lovely Alyssa." The voice drifts from the moth's proboscis on gray puffs of smoke. His attention shifts to Jeb. "You, on the other hand, will bow to her." ~ A.G. Howard

eat, baby.
eat.
chew.
please.
I know it hurts. I know it doesn't feel good.
please.
I know your hunger is different than mine.
I know it doesn't taste the same as mine.
imagine you could grow up all over again
and pinpoint the millisecond that you started
counting calories like casualties of war,
mourning each one like it had a family.
would you?
sometimes I wonder that.
sometimes I wonder if you would go back
and watch yourself reappear and disappear right in front of your own eyes.
and I love you so much.
I am going to hold your little hand through the night.
just please eat. just a little.
you wrote a poem once,
about a city of walking skeletons.
the teacher called home because you
told her you wished it could be like that
here.
let me tell you something about bones, baby.
they are not warm or soft.
the wind whistles through them like they are
holes in a tree.
and they break, too. they break right in half.
they bruise and splinter like wood.
are you hungry?
I know. I know how much you hate that question.
I will find another way to ask it, someday.
please.
the voices.
I know they are all yelling at you to stretch yourself thinner.
l hear them counting, always counting.
I wish I had been there when the world made you
snap yourself in half.
I would have told you that your body is not ~ Caitlyn Siehl

I am thirsty, and very susceptible to flattery ... you could talk me into anything ... "
"So much for fighting the good fight," I observed dryly. "He'll have a harem within a week."
Bones watched Juan disappear down the hall, nuzzling the blonde's neck in a manner that didn't speak only of hunger. "He's a fine bloke. He'll learn."
"Learn what?" At least he can't get or pass diseases anymore, I thought. That's one advantage turning Juan into a vampire did for womankind.
Bones put an arm around me as we headed toward the exit of the flesh feast. "He'll learn that many women can satisfy for a short period of time, but when he falls in love, only one will sustain him forever."
I cast him a sideways glance "Are you trying to seduce me?"
His lips curled with promise. "Absolutely. ~ Jeaniene Frost

I heard a thunk that sounded like Lend's head against the door. "This is stupid. Let my dad take care of it. He's been contacting everyone he knows who is still with IPCA, and - "
I walked over and put my own head against the door, pretending there wasn't anything between us. "And it doesn't matter. IPCA isn't the same. There are new people in charge, and they aren't messing around. I can help her. Raquel would do the same for me. She has done the same for me."
"I don't see what good it's going to do for you to waltz back in there and - "
"Can I tango back in there, instead? So much sexier than the waltz."
"Evie, I'm serious! You just broke out of IPCA! You're going to get tased and tagged again."
"I really doubt it. Faerie backup, remember?" I went to the window and looked down into the yard, where Reth stood in the midst of the dead brown grass, looking like a god of spring and sunshine who had seriously lost his way. He was staring straight up at me, although how he knew I'd look straight down that instant I had no idea. Creeper.
I shivered a little, still not breaking eye contact with Reth. I was in over my head, I knew that, and I knew I'd owe him even more after this. I had no doubt I'd pay in a way I really didn't want to, and soon.
The door shook as Lend kicked it. "Pretty much the only idea I like less than you walking back into IPCA is you walking back into IPCA with only Jack and Reth for protection."
"They owe me."
"Tru ~ Kiersten White

The only emotions coming from him were light, playful - maybe with a little resignation wrapped in there, but positive feelings flowed across out bond.
"You are amused," I said. "What was in the vial? What are you so suddenly amused?"
He tipped his head. "It's...freeing, this shift in perspective. It's all rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but you want this - for campus, your new home, to be happy and free. Easy enough to assist with, so here I am."
"I had to drag you here."
"It wouldn't be a game otherwise. You would have been far more skeptical had I come willingly. You'd never have brought it and I'd have been made to stand elsewhere, relegated to being good."
I looked at him, then slipped my hand around his arm and squeezed. "I'd buy it."
Bonds wrapped around me - family, fondness, and something slightly darker and more fatalistic. He squeezed my hand beneath his, then pulled away before I could identify the last feeling. ~ Anne Zoelle

Let go!" I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me – I stumbled against the passenger door.
"You are so pushy!" I grumbled
"It's open," was all he responded. He got in the driver's side.
"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back.
He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in, Bella."
I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck before he could catch me. I had to admit it, they weren't good.
"I'll just drag you back," he threatened, guessing my plan. ~ Stephenie Meyer

You grow sleepy,cara mia," Julian whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehea. "We should go to your brother's chamber. I will check him once more before we go to ground."
Desari refused to open her eyes. She made a soft purring sound, completely contented to lie in his arms. "Not yet, Julian," she protested softly. "I do not want to leave this place for a little while longer."
"I can feel how tired you are, my love. I can do no other than-"
"Do not say it!" Deasri thumped his chest. "Just lie there and hold me. That is what I want. Men are such difficult creatures,Julian. I am beginning to realize this."
He rubbed his chin on the top of her head, her hair catching in the shadow along his jaw. "Men are not difficult. They are logical and methodical."
She laughed softly. "You wish it wree so. I must tell you,although I am taking a huge cance that you might become impossible to live with, tha you are an extraordinary lover."
"Keep talking,lifemate. I am listening," he responded with a deep satisfaction. "Magnificent was only a starting place. Extraordinary lover is the perfect description. I see that now."
Her soft laughter washed over him, as gentle as a breeze. Touching him. Just like that. She could touch him with her breath. Julian wrapped his arms around her tightly and buried his face in her ebony hair. "Why is it you always smell so good?"
"Would you want me to smell like a cavewoman?"
"I do not know,cara. I do not know what a ~ Christine Feehan

Don't fall in love with me, Willow. I'm no good for you or any other woman. You and I...Well, let's just say we were never meant to be. I'm a tumbleweed; I go wherever the wings of change blow me. But above all else, I'm a man with a man's needs. And you, my dear, are a very beautiful and desirable woman." His hands cupped her shoulders firmly. "Help me, Willow. Run away. Run as fast as you can, because you deserve so much more than I have to offer. ~ Charlotte McPherren

Sin is our condition," I said.
"Say rather that love is our rightful condition."
"You talk like
you are a good man! But how can you be good without God?"
He grinned. "Not so good, neither. But what virtue I do have is in me and of me. Men deny the good that comes from themselves, calling it God. So they do with their own evil, calling it the Devil."
I tried to see how this might be.
"There is no Hell, Jacob."
"And the Bible?"
"Was written by men like ourselves."
He was frightening. At the idea of there being no Hell I had felt a breath of something like freedom, but it was illusion. I marvelled at his foolhardiness, feared it, and loved it. ~ Maria McCann

You look…exactly the same."
Gulp. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? "I do?" I get up on my tiptoes. "I think I've grown at least an inch since eighth grade." And my boobs are at least a little bigger. Not much. Not that I want John to notice--I'm just saying.
"No, you look…just like how I remembered you." John Ambrose reaches out, and I think he's trying to hug me but he's only trying to take my bag from me, and there's a brief but strange dance that mortifies me but he doesn't seem to notice. "So thanks for inviting me."
"Thanks for coming."
"Do you want me to take this stuff up for you?"
"Sure," I say.
John takes the bag from me and looks inside. "Oh, wow. All of our old snacks! Why don't you climb up first and I'll pass it to you." So that's what I do: I scramble up the ladder and he climbs up behind me. I'm crouched, arms outstretched, waiting for him to pass me the bag.
But when he gets halfway up the ladder, he stops and looks up at me and says, "You still wear your hair in fancy braids."
I touch my side braid. Of all the things to remember about me. Back then, Margot was the one who braided my hair. "You think it looks fancy?"
"Yeah. Like…expensive bread."
I burst out laughing. "Bread!"
"Yeah. Or…Rapunzel."
I get down on my stomach, wriggle over to the edge, and pretend like I'm letting down my hair for him to climb. He climbs up to the top of the ladder and passes me the bag, which I take, and then he grin ~ Jenny Han

Isn't that the tie Lily bought for your birthday?"

Evan looked down to examine it. It was paisley, a kaleidoscope of color. "Yes it is, as a matter of fact. Good memory. What do you think? Too much?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"But you don't like it."

"I think that if you want to wear it, you should wear it."

Evan seemed momentarily undecided. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Refuse to answer a simple question."

"Because my opinion is irrelevant. You should wear what you want."

"Just tell me, okay?"

"I don't like your tie."

"Really? Why not?"

"Because it's ugly."

"It's not ugly."

Colin nodded. "Okay."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Probably."

"You don't even wear ties."

"You're right."

"So why do I care what you think?"

"I don't know."

Evan scowled. "Talking to you can be infuriating, you know."

"I know. You've said that before."

"Of course I've said it before! Because it's true! Didn't we just talk about this the other night? You don't have to say whatever pops into your head."

"But you asked."

"Just ... Oh, forget it." He turned and started back toward the house. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Where are you going?"

Evan walked a couple of steps before answeri ~ Nicholas Sparks

Dear lady, ... dear gentleman, reader, [it's] not right ... to put down this writer on his writing ... And I'll tell you why, too: it hurts, that's why.... People try to understand why writers commit suicide by jumping off boats or by alcoholism or by being heroic continuously or by rope or gun or drug or knife or water, and ... I can tell you straight out, ... it is reading slurring remarks about their writing that drives writers to the grave. Dirty remarks passed by ... dirty but damned nicely educated and very highly-paid ladies and gentlemen have the effect of killing writers. Yes, that's right. Dirty words ... in slick paper magazines read by smart people do assassinate writers. ... And boy let me tell you I am all for it, even when by some ... misunderstanding the dirty words are directed to me rather than to the party really deserving them. Accidents happen, dear clever reviewer or critic, and let it not be said that William Saroyan is one not to see a situation from the point of view of the other party, ... and I shall be the first to defend your right to be critical and even sarcastic, knowing full well that it is not about me and my writing, although my name is by mistake taken in vain by you. ... But go on, go on, do your good clever writing, every one of you, I am home, your are home, and we are each of us not yet on Variety's Necrology list, so if we can't take it, who can? ~ William Saroyan

There is no odor so bad as that which arises from goodness tainted. It is human, it is divine, carrion. If I knew for a certainty that a man was coming to my house with the conscious design of doing me good, I should run for my life, as from that dry and parching wind of the African deserts called the simoom, which fills the mouth and nose and ears and eyes with dust till you are suffocated, for fear that I should get some of his good done to me, - some of its virus mingled with my blood. No, -in this case I would rather suffer evil the natural way. ~ Henry David Thoreau

Tell me about it, he said. Tell me why you're so unhappy. It's just everything. There are too many people. And I don't fit in. I don't know how to be. Nothing that I'm good at it is sort of thing that matters there. ~ Rainbow Rowell

It is Never Too Late to Mend."

Since it can never be too late
To change your life, or else renew it,
Let the unpleasant process wait
Until you are compelled to do it.
The State provides (and gratis too)
Establishments for such as you.

Remember this, and pluck up heart,
That, be you publican or parson,
Your ev'ry art must have a start,
From petty larceny to arson;
And even in the burglar's trade,
The cracksman is not born, but made.

So, if in your career of crime,
You fail to carry out some "coup",
Then try again a second time,
And yet again, until you do;
And don't despair, or fear the worst,
Because you get found out at first.

Perhaps the battle will not go,
On all occasions, to the strongest;
You may be fairly certain tho'
That He Laughs Last who laughs the Longest.
So keep a good reserve of laughter,
Which may be found of use hereafter.

Believe me that, howe'er well meant,
A Good Resolve is always brief;
Don't let your precious hours be spent
In turning over a new leaf.
Such leaves, like Nature's, soon decay,
And then are only in the way.

The Road to - -well, a certain spot,
(A Road of very fair dimensions),
Has, so the proverb tells us, got
A parquet-floor of Good Intentions.
Take care, in your desire to please,
You do not add a brick to these.

Harry Graham

Dear Forrest,
I am sorry there was no time for us to speech other before I left. The doctors made their decision quickly, and before I knew it, I was being taken away, but I asked if I could stop long enough to write you this note, because you have been so kind to me whileI was here.
I sense, Forrest, that you are on the verge of something very significant in your life, some change, or event that will move you in a different direction, and you must seize the moment, and not let it pass. When I think back on it now, there is something in your eyes, some tiny flash of fire that comes now and then, mostly when you smile, and , on those infrequent occasions, I believe what I saw was almost a Genesis of our ability as humans to think, to create, to be.
This war is to for you, old pal - nor me - and I am well out of it as I'm sure you will be in time. The crucial question is, what will you do? I don't think you're an idiot at all. Perhaps by the measure of tests or the judgement of fools, you might fall into some category or other, but deep down, Forrest, I have seen that glowing sparkle of curiosity burning deep in your mind. Take the tide, my friend, and as you are carried along, make it work for you, fight the shallows and the snags and never give up. You are a good fellow, forrest, and you have a big heart.
Your pal,
Dan ~ Winston Groom

Good girl. So. Are you ready to do this? You and me, working and playing together? ~ Primula Bond

I pulled the chair up to the bedside and studied his face. He was still pale, but he looked like Edward again. That cold bleakness was back in his eyes when no one but me was looking.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"It couldn't just be because you nearly died," I said.
"No," he said.
I smiled, but he didn't smile back.
"Bernardo came to see me, but Olaf never did," he said.
I realized then what he thought I'd waited around to tell him. "You think I killed Olaf, and I've been waiting for you to get healthy enough to give you the same choice you gave me after Harley died," I laughed. "Sweet Jesus, Edward."
"You didn't kill him." I watched him relax against his pillow, visibly relieved.
"No, I didn't kill him."
I took Olaf's letter out of my back pocket and handed it to him. He read it while I watched his face.
Nothing moved but his eyes. He had no reaction. "He's a good man at your back, Anita."
"You're not suggesting I date Olaf?"
He almost laughed. "No, fuck no. Stay as far away from him as you can. If he comes to St. Louis, kill him. Don't wait for him to deserve it. Just do it."
"I agree someone needs to kill Olaf, but why are you so adamant all of a sudden? You trusted him enough to bring him here to your town."
"Olaf has never had a girlfriend. He's had whores and he's had victims. Maybe it's true love, but I think if he shows up and finds that you won't be his little serial killer pin-up girl, that he'll tu ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

How are you holding up?"
"I'm good.And still untouched," she added. "Are you alone in that bed?"
"Except for the six members of the all-girl Swedish volleyball team.Helga's got a hell of a spike.Aren't you going to ask what I'm wearing?"
"Black Speedos,sweat,and a big smile."
"How'd you guess?So,what are you wearing?"
Slowly,she ran a tongue around her teeth. "Oh,just this little..very little..white lace teddy."
"And stiletto heels."
"Naturally.With a pair of sheer hose.They have little pink roses around the tops. It matches the one I'm tucking between my breasts right now. I should add I've just gotten out of the tub.I'm still a little..wet."
"Jesus.You're too good at this.I'm hanging up."
Her response was a long, throaty laugh."I'm going to love driving the Jag.let me know when to expect the shipment."
When the phone clicked in her ear,she laughed again,turned, and found herself nearly face to face wth Kate. "how long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to be confused.Were you just having [hone sex with Josh? Our Josh?"
Carelessly,Margo brushed her hair behind her ear. "It was more foreplay really. ~ Nora Roberts

Steady, Legs, I'm not going to bite," he teased. "Well, not unless you ask me to."

Despite herself, she snorted. "Stop calling me Legs." It was insulting...and made her want to dissolve into a puddle at his feet. Damn the man.

"I like the look of your legs, so I;m going to keep doing it. Now, how big are we thinking?"

Big. Thick and long.

Wait, that wasn't what he was asking.

Austin have a deep chuckle. "I can see from your face where your mind went, and yes, big is a good word for it. However, I was talking about your tattoo. ~ Carrie Ann Ryan

My roommate has a gerbil," Ryan said, grinning. "The little guy got loose and crapped all over my bed. It's just been a crazy day."
Nodding at his silly story, I heard a familiar voice. "That's fucking fascinating," Judd said from behind me. "Then, what happened?"
Judd was stalking me apparently.
He pulled a chair to the table. "What are we having for dinner?"
"Who are you exactly?" Ryan asked.
"Tawny's man. I don't do names or handshakes, so save it, kid."
When Ryan looked at me for help, I shook my head. "I have no control over him. If I did, he wouldn't be here."
"Oh, don't be like that," Judd said, caressing the back of my hair. "I like that sweater on you. Very autumn. Looks good with your eyes."
"Please, go away."
"I can't. I'm your ride tonight."
"Should I leave?" Ryan asked.
Judd glanced at my date. "Just catch onto that, did you?"
Ryan stood up. "See you around, Tawny."
"Can't you stay and ignore him?"
Judd's eyes narrowed. "No, he can't."
"We can still talk," I said, praying Ryan would stay. "He might leave if we treat him like static in the background."
Ryan considered staying until Judd's amused expression faded. "She's not fucking you, if that's what you're holding out for. In fact, you ain't even getting a goodnight kiss. Well, unless you want that to be the last thing your lips ever do before I rip them off your face."
"I'm going to leave," Ryan said, giving me ~ Bijou Hunter

She brought the tea into the living room on a lacquered tray. The pot and cups were Japanese with unglazed rims. She poured.
"Thanks," I said.
"Well?"
"Huh?"
"Your family," she reminded.
I sipped the tea. "This is really good. Really delicious."
She raised her eyebrows. "That's what I thought. You're a good listener, Davy, and you can change the subject on a dime. You've hardly talked about yourself at all."
"I talk... too much."
"You talk about books, you talk about plays, you talk about movies, you talk about places, you talk about food, you talk about current events. You don't talk about yourself."
I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I hadn't really thought about it. Sure, I didn't talk
about the jumping, but the rest? "Well, there's not much to say. Not like those stories of growing up with four brothers."
She smiled. "It's not going to work. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I'm not going to be distracted again, nor fooled into talking about those idiots again."
She poured more tea into my cup.
I frowned. "Do I really do that?"
"What? Not talk about yourself? Yes."
"No, try and distract you."
She stared at me. "You are fucking amazing. I've never seen someone so good at changing the subject."
"I don't do it on purpose."
She laughed. ~ Steven Gould

I want to know what it feels like to kiss a guy. And you've had a lot of practice, so I know you're a good kisser.
Are you simultaneously complimenting me and calling me a whore? ~ Abigail Roux

Look back, believer: think of your doubting God when he has been so faithful to you
think of your foolish outcry of "Not so, my Father," when he crossed his hands in affliction to give you the larger blessing; think of the many times when you have read his providences in the dark, misinterpreted his dispensations, and groaned out, "All these things are against me," when they are all working together for your good! Think how often you have chosen sin because of its pleasure, when indeed, that pleasure was a root of bitterness to you! ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

We have this distinctly human concept of good and bad. Nature doesn't have that. It just is. I'm not comfortable with that. I'm not accepting of the fact that we live in a profoundly brutal world. I don't fully approve of the way nature works. This lifetime of study has left me disappointed by the brutality of it all.
It has also made me more sympathetic to the human condition and the many unbearable circumstances we find ourselves in. You and I are lucky in this part of the world not to experience the sort of wretched life that is a reality for so many. ~ Joe Hutto

Are you falling asleep before midnight?" Cassie leaned over the edge of the couch to look at Jack. He was stretched out on the floor, his head resting against a pillow near the center of the couch, his eyes closed. She was now wide awake and headache free. He wasn't in so good a shape. "The new year is eighteen minutes away."
"Come kiss me awake in seventeen minutes."
She blinked at that lazy suggestion, gave a quick grin, and dropped Benji on his chest.
He opened one eye to look up at her as he settled his hand lightly on the kitten. "That's a no?"
She smiled. She was looking forward to dating him, but she was smart enough to know he'd value more what he had to work at.
He sighed. "That was a no. How much longer am I going to be on the fence with you?"
"Is that a rhetorical question or do you want an answer?" If this was the right relationship God had for her future, time taken now would improve it, not hurt it. She was ready to admit she was tired of being alone.
He scratched Benji under the chin and the kitten curled up on his chest and batted a paw at his hand. "Rhetorical. I'd hate to get my hopes up."
She leaned her chin against her hand, looking down at him. "I like you, Jack."
"You just figured that out?"
"I'll like you more when you catch my mouse."
"The only way we are going to catch T.J. is to turn this place into a cheese factory and help her get so fat and slow that she can no longer run and hide."
Or y ~ Dee Henderson

Let me tell you a little story. There was once a boy who wasn't even old enough to shave. Beaten. Naked. He was sent out into the great desert with only a small dagger for protection. I have killed cobras with my bare hands and I have lived through conditions so horrendous, not even hell itself scares me. If any of you think for one minute that I have any soul left to prevent me from killing you, you're sadly mistaken. If you think for one minute, any of you are capable of killing me, then I say try it. But make sure you've had a good confession beforehand, because I assure you it will be the very last mistake you make in this lifetime. (Sin) ~ Kinley MacGregor

I look for women I know are gonna bust me up good. Come on, man, who can resist that? Who can resist that emotional pain? Yeah, they all have the same line, they're so sweet: I'm not gonna hurt you like all the others. Really I'm not. I'm gonna introduce you to a whole new level of pain! ~ Sam Kinison

Liam cleared his throat again and turned to fully face me. "So, it's the summer and you're in Salem, suffering through another boring, hot July, and working part-time at an ice cream parlor. Naturally, you're completely oblivious to the fact that all of the boys from your high school who visit daily are more interested in you than the thirty-one flavors. You're focused on school and all your dozens of clubs, because you want to go to a good college and save the world. And just when you think you're going to die if you have to take another practice SAT, your dad asks if you want to go visit your grandmother in Virginia Beach."
"Yeah?" I leaned my forehead against his chest. "What about you?"
"Me?" Liam said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm in Wilmington, suffering through another boring, hot summer, working one last time in Harry's repair shop before going off to some fancy university - where, I might add, my roommate will be a stuck-up-know-it-all-with-a-heart-of-gold named Charles Carrington Meriwether IV - but he's not part of this story, not yet." His fingers curled around my hip, and I could feel him trembling, even as his voice was steady. "To celebrate, Mom decides to take us up to Virginia Beach for a week. We're only there for a day when I start catching glimpses of this girl with dark hair walking around town, her nose stuck in a book, earbuds in and blasting music. But no matter how hard I try, I never get to talk to her.
"Then, as our fr ~ Alexandra Bracken

A fortune teller told me if I can predict your future, You give me some small change, to which I replied why, he said, for my knowledge about Your life, I did not need that, he replied as I yours Father's and Mother can call by name than You give me money, which I answered as you come to me as a soothsayer and do not know whether I will or do not pay then You walk down on the wrong path for Your future, and are You a cheater.

So please stop to tell stories about others when You not even know them in person or about their past for sure.
A story from another is many time not based on the true, so let that story rest before till You know its a honest one, and not let lead it a way so it damage somebody's private life.

This is not pointed to a person, but general in life.
keep smiling and a good day
Jan Jansen ~ Jan Jansen

And when the hour of his departure drew near--

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."

"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"Then it has done you no good at all!"

"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:

"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."


The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
....
And he went back to meet the fox.

"Goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.

"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become r ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Nah, you always look good. As for me ... well, it's hard to explain. The auras are getting to me. There's so much sorrow around here. You can't even begin to understand. It radiates from everyone on a spiritual level. It's overwhelming. It makes your dark aura downright cheerful. ~ Richelle Mead

Generalized Social Anxiety

In contrast to people with specific social anxieties, you may be afraid in a wide variety of situations. You might feel that people are judging everything you do and you might set unreasonable standards of perfection for yourself. This condition is called generalized (or discrete) social anxiety. Generalized social anxiety accounts for 80 percent of all cases of social anxiety.
Often, people with generalized social anxiety get caught in a vicious cycle. Because they are overly anxious in many situations, they act in clumsy and awkward ways, which in turn makes them feel even more discouraged and anxious. This cycle often results in depression and chronic stress.
Generalized social anxiety can affect almost every aspect of your life. This has been the case for Toni, a college senior.

In high school, I hardly had any friends. I didn't participate in any extracurricular activities and managed to get by with average grades. Because I attend a large state university, I am even more invisible. So far, I have avoided any class that has any interaction with my peers, such as discussion groups or labs.
As graduation approaches, I need to decide what type of career I want. The thought of job interviews terrifies me. I am considering grad school but would need recommendations to apply. I haven't even spoken to most of my professors, and the ones who know me probably can't say anything good about me.
As a result, I'm r ~ Heather Moehn

We now know I can do it, but I feel like hell," I went on. "I'm so cold, my teeth would chatter if they still could. And I'm hungry enough that both of you are starting to looking really, really good."
Vlad's lips curled. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to remind you that this is just the leftover power talking and you don't really want to cheat on Hones?"
"Not that kind of hungry!" I gasped, eyes bulging that Vlad thought I'd just casually thrown out that I wanted him and Mencheres to double-team me. "I meant hungry like drinking you guys' blood. Not hungry for... you know."
Without thought, my gaze flew to the areas in question before skipping away once I realized what I was doing. Then my cheeks actually tingled with mortification as Vlad let out a long, hearty laugh. Mencheres, more courteous, pretended to suddenly find something fascinating in the door frame, but I saw his lips twitch.
"My dear Reaper," Vlad said, still laughing. "Did you just check out our--"
"No!" I interrupted at once, almost lunging toward the staircase. "I'm tired and still dazed from the Remnants and... fuck it, I'm taking a shower. I mean, not a cold shower, because I don't need that"--Oh Jesus, I was only making this worse--"because I am cold already, and I need to get hot. I mean, warmer. Oh, just shut up! ~ Jeaniene Frost

After Ben leaves, I head back upstairs to my room, only to find Dad in the kitchen. He has his back toward me, sneaking a bag of Bugles from one of the baskets above the cabinets.
"Caught you," I say, switching on the light, making him jump.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asks, keeping his voice low.
"Shouldn't you?" I give him a pointed look.
"Probably, but your mom actually feel asleep tonight - probably the first night all week. Meanwhile, I'm too hungry to nod off."
"So, where does that leave us?" I ask, eyeing his bag of Bugles.
"Can you be trusted?"
"That depends. Are you willing to share?" I smile. "Good hiding spot, by the way. Nobody ever uses those baskets."
"That's what you think." He gazes down the hall to make sure the coast is clear and then snags a bag of Hershey's Kisses from one of the other four overhead baskets.
We park ourselves at the kitchen island and rip both bags open. Five full minutes of lusty devouring pass before either of us speaks. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Ian's strong hands closed around her. "Are you all right?"
"Perfectly fine." She bit her lip. "I believe Cameron needs to find me a softer horse."
Ian grinned, then burst out laughing. His laughter was warm and velvety, so fine she paused to drink it in.
Beth smiled at him and made a show of gingerly sitting down. "You may cease laughing at me, Ian Mackenzie. It was only my first lesson."
He leaned toward her. "You already have a very good seat, my Beth."
"Shall I take it you are referring to how I sit on a horse?"
Ian kissed her cheek and moved to his own chair, still smiling. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sat down. "Beth likes to joke," he said without looking at the others.
Beth felt the frost of Hart's rigid stare. Daniel's mouth was open in surprise, and Cameron sat very still. Something had happened, and Beth wasn't certain what. ~ Jennifer Ashley

Try to picture this:
For the next few months, each day, You -being the only person remaining in an immense room (where a beautiful event was held, but you were not invited). And your only duty is to put in order all that room back in place, without guidance and without any assistance. You, completely alone. On your first few days, you let yourself get extremely curious and you admire the splendor and majesty of the immense room. From the paintings adorning the walls to each and every single piece of furniture. In the next few weeks, you start admiring the crystal glasses & plates. You even eat or taste what they left, the guests before you. You sit on each piece of furniture, and pretend to imagine yourself in that event… After a period of time, and repeating this same exact responsibility, you acquire a great facility in collecting and putting this same immense room in order; and consequently, with the remaining time that you have left, you begin to show more interest to what you can see from each window (that room no longer carries the same interest it once had on you). And you look forward to be out from it.

I am that huge room that shines and catches the attention of many. And you, you are that person who shares a private life with me, and who knows all my imperfections. Maybe it's often like this, and one gets bored of the room one lives in, even disgusted or weary - so you think you have to leave it behind… Leave it. Hope you had a good time till t ~ Efrat Cybulkiewicz

Have you swallowed all that war stuff?"
"No, of course I--" I was so committed to refuting him that I had half-denied the charge before I understood it; now my eyes swung back to his face. "All what war stuff?"
"All that stuff about there being a war."
"I don't think I get what you mean."
"Do you really think that the United States of America is in a state of war with Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan?"
"Do I really think..." My voice trailed off.
He stood up, his weight on the good leg, the other resting lightly on the floor in front of him. "Don't be a sap," he gazed with cool self-possession at me, "there isn't any war."
"I know why you're talking like this," I said, struggling to keep up with him. "Now I understand. You're still under the influence of some medicinal drug."
"No, you are. Everybody is." He pivoted so that he was facing directly at me. "That's what this whole war story is. A medicinal drug. Listen, did you ever hear of the 'Roaring Twenties'?" I nodded very slowly and cautiously. "When they all drank bathtub gin and everybody who was young did just was they wanted?"
"Yes."
"Well, what happened was that they didn't like that, the preachers and the old ladies and all the stuffed shirts. So then they tried Prohibition and everybody just got drunker, so then they really got desperate and arranged the Depression. That kept the people who were young in the thirties in their places. But they couldn't use that trick fo ~ John Knowles

I walk outside and the green on the trees seems greener, so potent I can almost taste it. Maybe I can taste it, and it is like the grass I decided to chew when I was a child just to see what it was like. I almost fall down the stairs because of the swaying and burst into laughter when the grass tickles my bare feet. I wander toward the orchard.
"Four!" I call out. Why am I calling out a number? Oh yes. Because that's his name. I call out again. "Four! Where are you?"
"Tris?" says a voice from the trees on my right. It almost sounds like the tree is talking to me. I giggle, but of course it's just Tobias, ducking under a branch.
I run toward him, and the ground lurches to the side, so I almost fall. His hand touches my waist, steadies me. The touch sends a shock through my body, and all my insides burn like his fingers ignited them. I pull closer to him, pressing my body against his, and lift my head to kiss him.
"What did they--" he starts, but I stop him with my lips. He kisses me back, but too quickly, so I sigh heavily.
"That was lame," I say. "Okay, no it wasn't, but…"
I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him again, and he presses his finger to my lips to stop me.
"Tris," he says. "What did they do to you? You're acting like a lunatic."
"That's not very nice of you to say," I say. "They put me in a good mood, that's all. And now I really want to kiss you, so if you could just relax--"
"I'm not going to kiss you. I'm going to figure ou ~ Veronica Roth

And frankly the people who seem to best understand that we are creatures of love and desire, not thoughts, are the current giant tech companies of the world. Think about how Apple exists with a temple-like space (tell me their retail stores don't feel so "set apart" from the ordinary retail design that it doesn't immediately conjure up sacred feelings) where you go to sacrifice (enormously large portions of your money) to obtain that which you are looking for - connection, meaning and depth. People stand in line all night, some even camping out on the sidewalk, for the latest device that offers those implicitly understood benefits. This phone can, and will, be more than a phone. I think it's even fair to say that Apple is a religion with Steve Jobs as a priest (who has become a venerated secular saint after his death), mediating between man and God to give us what we want. Connection. Power. God-like knowledge of good and evil. And we take the phone, and we crouch and bend over. Usually with heads bowed. Laser focused on something. Blocking out all around us. We are silent and solemn. Tending not to speak. And then we perform a certain behaviour over and over and over again. Sound familiar? Swipe. ~ Jefferson Bethke

New York
November 10, 1958

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First - if you are in love - that's a good thing - that's about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don't let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second - There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you - of kindness and consideration and respect - not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn't know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply - of course it isn't puppy love.

But I don't think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it - and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone - there is no possible harm in saying so - only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must tak ~ John Steinbeck

Duncan climbed out my bedroom window, practically falling onto the roof. After he was out, he half jumped, half fell off the roof. Finn watched him apprehensively for a moment, holding my curtain open, but he didn't follow after immediately.
Instead,he straightened up, looking over at me. My anger and resolution were fading, leaving me hopeful that Finn wouldn't really leave things this way.
"Once I'm out this window, lock it behind me," Finn commanded. "Make sure all the doors are locked, and never go anywhere alone. Never go anyplace at night, and if at all possible, always take Matt and Rhys with you." He looked past me for a moment, thinking of something.
"Although neither of them are really good for much of anything..." His dark eyes rested on mine once again. His expression was imploring, and he raised his hand as if he meant to touch my face, but he lowered it again. "You must be careful."
"Okay," I promised him.
With Finn standing right in front of me, I could feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne. His eyes were locked on mine, and I remembered the way it felt when he tangled his fingers in my hair and held me so close to him I couldn't breathe.
He was so strong and controlled. In the brief moments he allowed himself to let go of his passion with me, it was the most wonderfully suffocating feeling I'd ever had.
I didn't want him to leave, and he didn't want to leave. But we had both made choices we were unwilling to chang ~ Amanda Hocking

Several minutes later, when I passed among the guests to fill their empty cups with wine, I found him standing at my shoulder. "You'll wound my pride," he warned me softly, "ignoring me so." I flicked him a look that was only half-impatient. "I must not speak with you, by my uncle's own instruction." "And when have you obeyed instructions?" He held out his own cup to be filled, his mouth curved in amusement. "Besides, your uncle is engaged at present, with a most serious gentleman. If he should look this way, I've only to duck my head." "You are impossible, my lord." "Ay. And your good humor is lacking, madam. What is it that has so offended you? ~ Susanna Kearsley

And if I die sometime – I'm going to die very soon – I know I'll die as I am,
without accepting this world, perceiving it close up and far away, inside and out,
perceiving but not accepting it. I'll die and He will ask me: "Was it good there for
you? Was it bad there for you?" I will be silent, with lowered eyes. I'll be silent
that muteness familiar to everyone who knows the outcome of days of hard
boozing. For isn't the life of man a momentary boozing of the soul? And an eclipse
of the soul as well? We are all as if drunk, only everybody in his own way: one
person has drunk more, the next less. And it works differently on each: the one
laughs in the face of this world, while the next cries on its bosom. One has already
thrown up and feels better, while the next is only starting of feel like throwing up.
But me, what am I? I've partaken of much, but nothing works on me. I haven't
really laughed properly, even once, and I've never thrown up, even once. I, who
have partaken of so much in this world that I've lost count and the sequence of it
all, I am soberer than anyone else in this world; ~ Venedikt Erofeev

Bessie, you must promise not to scold me any more till I go." "Well, I will; but mind you are a very good girl, and don't be afraid of me. Don't start when I chance to speak rather sharply; it's so provoking. ~ Charlotte Bronte

What then, is it not possible to be free from faults? It is not possible; but this is possible: to direct your efforts incessantly to being faultess. For we must be content if by never remitting this attention we shall escape at least a few errors. When you have said "Tomorrow I will begin to attend," you must be told that you are saying this: "Today I will be shameless, disregardful of time and place, mean;it will be in the power of others to give me pain, today I will be passionate and envious.
See how many evil things you are permitting yourself to do. If it is good to use attention tomorrow, how much better is it to do so today? If tomorrow it is in your interest to attend, much more is it today, that you may be able to do so tomorrow also, and may not defer it again to the third day. ~ Epictetus

Many social justice or social activist movements have been rooted in a position. A position is usually against something. Any position will call up its opposition. If I say up, it generates down. If I say right, it really creates left. If I say good, it creates bad. So a position creates its opposition. A stand is something quite distinct from that.

There are synonyms for "stand" such as "declaration" or "commitment," but let me talk for just a few moments about the power of a stand. A stand comes from the heart, from the soul. A stand is always life affirming. A stand is always trustworthy. A stand is natural to who you are. When we use the phrase "take a stand" I'm really inviting you to un-cover, or "unconceal," or recognize, or affirm, or claim the stand that you already are.

Stand-takers are the people who actually change the course of history and are the source of causing an idea's time to come. Mahatma Gandhi was a stand-taker. He took a stand so powerful that it mobilized millions of people in a way that the completely unpredictable outcome of the British walking out of India did happen. And India became an independent nation. The stand that he took… or the stand that Martin Luther King, Jr. took or the stand that Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony took for women's rights - those stands changed our lives today. The changes that have taken place in history as a result of the stand-takers are permanent changes, not temporary changes. The ~ Lynne Twist

I always thought if you really want to be a good actor, you've got to be able to fart in public. That, to me, is the most important. If you are so inhibited that you can't fart, I don't mean around your friends, I mean just a fart, out loud somewhere. I don't mean the 'silent creeper', everybody does that. I mean fart out loud! Just that you can do it and not be afraid of it. Humility is very important. ~ Timothy Carey

It's God that's worrying me. That's the only thing that's worrying me. What if He doesn't exist? What if Rakitin's right -that it's an idea made up by men? Then, if He doesn't exist, man is the king of the earth, of the universe. Magnificent! Only how is he going to be good without God? That's the question. I always come back to that. Who is man going to love then? To whom will he be thankful? To whom will he sing the hymn? Rakitin laughs. Rakitin says that one can love humanity instead of God. Well, only an idiot can maintain that. I can't understand it. Life's easy for Rakitin. 'You'd better think about the extension of civic rights, or of keeping down the price of meat. You will show your love for humanity more simply and directly by that, than by philosophy.' I answered him: 'Well, but you, without a God, are more likely to raise the price of meat if it suits you, and make a rouble on every penny.' He lost his temper. But after all, what is goodness? Answer that, Alyosha. Goodness is one thing with me and another with a Chinaman, so it's relative. Or isn't it? Is it not relative? A treacherous question! You won't laugh if I tell you it's kept me awake for two nights. I only wonder now how people can live and think nothing about it. Vanity! ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Do you live in Ellsberg?" I asked as he flipped from channel to channel too quickly to really be looking for anything to watch.
"Yes."
"Did you grow up there?"
"No."
"Do you like it there?"
"Sure."
"Do you think I'll like it there?"
"Your sister is shacked up with the prince of the fucking place. I'm sure you'll live a pretty sweet life in Ellsberg."
"Are the people friendly there?"
"Not really. Maybe two percent of the people are."
"So the other ninety eight percent are like you?"
Judd grinned. "Sounds about right. You should fit in."
"How am I not friendly?"
"You got a look about you. Like the little girl act is a con and you'll shiv me while I sleep."
"It's getting late, so I guess we'll see."
Smiling growing, he watched the TV, instead of me. "I'm sleeping in here next to my weapons and keeping one eye open. You best mess someone else, little girl."
"I'm not feeling great, so I'll probably wait to shiv you until I'm up to all the laughing and pointing I'll want to do after I get the drop on you."
Judd laughed. "You would mock me afterwards, wouldn't you?"
"Of course. You're a big guy. Fast and strong too. If I take you down, I'm totally enjoying the triumph."
"Good for you," he said quietly, a smile on his lips and a strange look in his eyes. ~ Bijou Hunter

You tell me. Is contentment death? Does one need to want in order to live? Can one aspire to that which is not material?"

"It would seem wise to aspire to objects more real and less fleeting than a feeling state which you can't bank on," Tuttle says. "You may feel good now, but say something happens and you don't feel so good later. In your model there's no backup: you can't say, 'Well, I feel like crap but at least I have a really nice car and a big television set.'"

"Why not say, I may feel bad now but I felt good before and chances are I'll feel good again? ~ A.A. Holmes

You've already said that," Alex says. "Why should I go?"

"You're the only person I have," I say. "And I want us all to be together. It will be good for us."

"Oh, so now I'm back in the picture again."

"Alex. Something bigger than you is occurring right now. I'm sorry about your unhappy childhood."

She glares at me in that special way of hers and Joanie's that makes me feel worthless and foul-smelling.

"So we'll tell Scottie we're going on a vacation while Mom is in the hospital?"

"It's for a day or two," I say. "Scottie's been in the hospital every day for almost a month now. She needs a break. It's not good for her. I'd like you to be in charge of answering any questions she may have. She looks up to you. She'll hang on whatever you say."

I'm hoping a leadership role, a specific chore, will make Alex act like an adult and treat Scottie well.

"Can you do that?"

She shrugs.

"If you can't handle things, let me know. I'll help. I'm here for you."

Alex laughs. I wonder if there are parents who can say things to their kids like "I love you" or "I'm here for you" without being laughed at. I have to admit it's a bit uncomfortable. Affection, in general, is unpleasant to me.

"What if Mom doesn't make it for two days?"

"She will," I say. "I'll tell her what we're doing."

Alex looks uncomfortable with this idea, that what I'll say wil ~ Kaui Hart Hemmings

Dear Max -

You looked so beautiful today. I'm going to remember what you looked like forever.

...

And I hope you remember me the same way - clean, ha-ha. I'm glad our last time together was happy.

But I'm leaving tonight, leaving the flock, and this time it's for good. I don't know if I'll ever see any of you again. The thing is, Max, that everyone is a little bit right. Added up all together, it makes this one big right.

Dylan's a little bit right about how my being here might be putting the rest of you in danger. The threat might have been just about Dr. Hans, but we don't know that for sure. Angel is a little bit right about how splitting up the flock will help all of us survive. And the rest of the flock is a little bit right about how when you and I are together, we're focused on each other - we can't help it.

The thing is, Maximum, I love you. I can't help but be focused on you when we're together. If you're in the room, I want to be next to you. If you're gone, I think about you. You're the one who I want to talk to. In a fight, I want you at my back. When we're together, the sun is shining. When we're apart, everything is in shades of gray.

I hope you'll forgive me someday for turning our worlds into shades of gray - at least for a while.

...

You're not at your best when you're focused on me. I mean, you're at your best Maxness, but not your best leaderness. I mostly n ~ James Patterson

There's some ill planet reigns:
I must be patient till the heavens look
With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,
I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew
Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have
That honourable grief lodged here which burns
Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,
With thoughts so qualified as your charities
Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
The king's will be perform'd! ~ William Shakespeare

It has taken me much of my life to begin to get to the second gaze. By nature I have a critical mind and a demanding heart, and I am so impatient. These are both my gifts and my curses, as you might expect. Yet I cannot have one without the other, it seems. I cannot risk losing touch with either my angels or my demons. They are both good teachers.

I am convinced that guilt and shame are never from God. They are merely the defenses of the False Self as it is shocked at its own poverty - the defenses of a little man who wants to be a big man. God leads by compassion toward the soul, never by condemnation. If God would relate to us by severity and punitiveness, God would only be giving us permission to do the same (which is tragically, due to our mistaken images of God, exactly what has happened!).

God offers us, instead, the grace to "weep" over our sins more than to ever perfectly overcome them, to humbly recognize our littleness. (St. Thérèse of Lisieux brought this Gospel message home in our time.) The spiritual journey is a kind of weeping and a kind of wandering that keeps us both askew and thus awake at the same time. Thérèse called it her "little way."

So now in my later life, contemplation and compassion are finally coming together. This is my second gaze. It is well worth waiting for, because only the second gaze sees fully and truthfully. It sees itself, the other, and even God with God's own eyes, which are always eyes of compassio ~ Richard Rohr

They read the names out from sixth place to first. We were standing backstage behind a huge curtain, and Rachael and Evgeni were right next to us. Swell. I thought maybe we stood a chance of coming in fourth. But they didn't call us. "This is crazy!" I whispered to Aneta. "We're top three?" Then they called a German couple. We were in the top two!
Rachael smiled at me. "Oh, Derek! Great job!" she said. What she really meant was, "We're going to take first place and you can have our sloppy seconds." Then we heard, "In second place, from England…" Rachael's face went white as a ghost. She and Evgeni were second! That left only one place for us…
"Derek Hough and Aneta Piotrovska are world champions!"
I started screaming, "What? What?" and jumping up and down. So much for my neck pain. This wasn't real; it couldn't be! I ran out from behind the curtain, pumping my fists in the air. I caught a glimpse of Rachael's face. She was beyond pissed.
"We did it! We did it!" I yelled. The rest happened in slow motion: I ran out and jumped off the stage and the floor. While I was midair, I remember thinking, " I'm wearing these Cuban heels. This isn't gonna be good." Then I hit the floor and my legs buckled. I fell into a roll, then stood straight up--as if I meant to do it all along. I limped over to Aneta to collect our trophy and we hugged. I didn't give a crap about anything else. Not my neck or my knees or Rachael fuming as they snapped pictures of all of us. It was ~ Derek Hough

Under the mellowing influence of good food and good music, Adam relaxed, and I discovered that underneath that overbearing, hot-tempered Alpha disguise he usually wore was a charming, over-bearing, hot-tempered man. He seemed to enjoy finding out that I was as stubborn and disrespectful of authority as he'd always suspected.
He ordered dessert without consulting me. I'd have been angrier, but it was something I could never have ordered for myself: chocolate, caramel, nuts, ice cream, real whipped cream, and cake so rich it might as well have been a brownie.
"So," he said, as I finished the last bit, "I'm forgiven?"
"You are arrogant and overstep your bounds," I told him, pointing my clean fork at him.
"I try," he said with false modesty. Then his eyes darkened and he reached across the table and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. He watched me as he licked the caramel from his skin.
I thumped my hands down on the table and leaned forward. "That is not fair. I'll eat your dessert and like it - but you can't use sex to keep me from getting mad."
He laughed, one of those soft laughs that start in the belly and rise up through the chest: a relaxed, happy sort of laugh.
To change the subject, because matters were heating up faster than I was comfortable with, I said, "So Bran tells me that he ordered you to keep an eye out for me."
He stopped laughing and raised both eyebrows. "Yes. Now ask me if I was watching you for Bran."
It was a tr ~ Patricia Briggs

After Stand By Me came out, people were telling me, 'You're so good,' 'You're going to be a star,' and things like that. You can't think about it. If you take it the wrong way, you can really get high on yourself. People get so lost when that happens to them. They may think they have everything under control, but everything is really out of control. Their lives are totally in pieces. ~ River Phoenix

Fuck, Ali." "That's what we're doing." He smiles. "I don't think I'll ever tire of you. I don't know what to do." That makes the two of us. To muffle his words and my rattled brain, I bend down and kiss him again. It feels so damn good with Ali deep inside of me. I won't need too much more stimulation to come again. Neither will he. He pushes himself up to meet me. All I can hear is our laboured breaths, and the slapping of our flesh together. Ali soon tenses and thrusts upwards into me again and again with full force, driving the couch across the floor, until he's spent. I move off him, and wrap my hand around myself. Ali's zonedout eyes are utterly absorbed by me as Ijerk off; his concentration consumes every inch of me when I give in to pleasuring myself and I come all over his abs. Ali's grin is precious. "Come here." We ignore the sticky mess between us. I reach down and let myself be hugged this time while I calm down from the intensity of sex. As I do that, Ali idly strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head. "You're incredible." I can say the same about him. Ali and I together feel effortless ~ A. Zukowski

Dear friend…'

The Witcher swore quietly, looking at the sharp, angular, even runes drawn with energetic sweeps of the pen, faultlessly reflecting the author's mood. He felt once again the desire to try to bite his own backside in fury. When he was writing to the sorceress a month ago he had spent two nights in a row contemplating how best to begin. Finally, he had decided on "Dear friend." Now he had his just deserts.

'Dear friend, your unexpected letter – which I received not quite three years after we last saw each other – has given me much joy. My joy is all the greater as various rumours have been circulating about your sudden and violent death. It is a good thing that you have decided to disclaim them by writing to me; it is a good thing, too, that you are doing so so soon. From your letter it appears that you have lived a peaceful, wonderfully boring life, devoid of all sensation. These days such a life is a real privilege, dear friend, and I am happy that you have managed to achieve it.

I was touched by the sudden concern which you deigned to show as to my health, dear friend. I hasten with the news that, yes, I now feel well; the period of indisposition is behind me, I have dealt with the difficulties, the description of which I shall not bore you with. It worries and troubles me very much that the unexpected present you received from Fate brings you worries. Your supposition that this requires professional help is absolutely correct. ~ Andrzej Sapkowski

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Would you like me to write Mrs. Ames about inviting you to Yaddo? Get Miss Moore to write too. You can't invite yourself, though, of course, almost all the invitations are planned. It would be marvelous to have you there. I know the solitude that gets too much. It doesn't drug me, but I get fantastic and uncivilized.
At last my divorce [from Jean Stafford] is over. It's funny at my age to have one's life so much in and on one's hands. All the rawness of learning, what I used to think should be done with by twenty-five. Sometimes nothing is so solid to me as writing - I suppose that's what vocation means - at times a torment, a bad conscience, but all in all, purpose and direction, so I'm thankful, and call it good, as Eliot would say. ~ Robert Lowell

What difference does it make?" he says. "People can think whatever they like. I don't desire their validation."
"So you don't mind," I ask him, "that people judge you so harshly?"
"I have no one to impress," he says. "No one who cares about what happens to me. I'm not in the business of making friends, love. My job is to lead an army, and it's the only thing I'm good at. No one," he says, "would be proud of the things I've accomplished. My mother doesn't even know me anymore. My father thinks I'm weak and pathetic. My soldiers want me dead. The world is going to hell. And the conversations I have with you are the longest I've ever had. ~ Tahereh Mafi

Can people be born evil?" I shook my head. "I don't think so either. I think she lost herself somewhere along the way. It's easy to do with magic." When I tensed, she turned to face me. "It's not like you think. Magic isn't . . . well, it's like anything else. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. It can be addictive. My mother, she - she loved the power, I suppose." She chuckled once. It was bitter. "And when everything is a matter of life and death for us, the stakes are higher. The more we gain, the more we lose. ~ Shelby Mahurin

My favorite book, by a wide margin, was An Imperial Affliction, but I didn't like to tell people about it. Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you withthis weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read thebook. And then there are books like An Imperial Affliction, which you can't tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.It wasn't even that the book was so good or anything; it was just that the author, Peter Van Houten, seemed to understand me in weird and impossible ways. An Imperial Affliction was my book, in the way my body was my body and my thoughts were my thoughts. ~ John Green

We didn't know much about each other twenty years ago. We were guided by our intuition; you swept me off my feet. It was snowing when we got married at the Ahwahnee. Years passed, kids came, good times, hard times, but never bad times. Our love and respect has endured and grown. We've been through so much together and here we are right back where we started 20 years ago - older, wiser - with wrinkles on our faces and hearts. We now know many of life's joys, sufferings, secrets and wonders and we're still here together. My feet have never returned to the ground. ~ Walter Isaacson

There is darkness inside all of us, though mine is more dangerous than most. Still, we all have it - that part of our soul that is irreparably damaged by the very trials and tribulations of life. We are what we are because of it, or perhaps in spite of it. Some use
it as a shield to hide behind, others as an excuse to do unconscionable things. But, truly, the darkness is simply a piece of the whole, neither good nor evil unless you make it so. It
took a witch, a war, and a voodoo queen to teach me that. ~ Jenna Maclaine

So," Annabeth said, "are you going to argue about me coming along?"
"Nah. You'd just beat me up." Percy said.
She managed a laugh, which was good to hear ~ Rick Riordan

No one knows what to do with me now that I'm alive. There's no protocol for how to treat someone who comes back from the dead. There are so many books about grief and loss, about saying good-bye to the people you love. But there is no book about taking back that good-bye. ~ Amy Reed

Damian smirks. "Why don't you tell him what we were discussing, Keats? Peyton and I are going to kayak for a bit." When Peyton walks out of the house, Damian jumps up, kisses her in greeting, then grabs her hand and pulls her toward the boat. Aiden puts his smoothie glass against mine. "This is really good. So, what were you talking about?" "Seeing a, um, penis for the first time." "Is it an embarrassing story?" "No, I just . . . it's just hard to comprehend the mechanics of sex when you're young and you see it in its, um, natural state." "Natural state? Like, out in the wild?" "No, not in the wild. I saw a boy's - " I wave my hand slowly across my body. " - in its natural state." "As opposed to its unnatural state?" "Its, um, softer state," I finally say, trying not to think about how his felt in my hand. How I wanted to rip those sliders off his body. Touch it. Feel it. Taste it. He leans in. "You're thinking about last night right now, aren't you?" I feel my cheeks turn red. Why am I such a prude about sex when it comes to Aiden? You'd think I'd never done it before. "I, uh . . ." Aiden arches an eyebrow at me. "Maybe tonight you can see it in its, uh, unnatural state," he says with a laugh as he kisses my cheek. ~ Jillian Dodd

ghost. No way am I gonna get bullied by anyone or anything - especially ghosts. "Mattie, you okay?" Mrs. Olson is eyeballing me with concern. I haven't moved to get out of the car. "All good, Mrs. O," I smile weakly at her. "Just tired." Taking a deep breath, I open the door and force myself out. I am not afraid, I chant over and over. The other kids are still at school, so the house is pretty empty. Mrs. O had told me earlier we had a new foster kid in the house, but I'm betting he's at school too. She sends me upstairs with the promise to bring me a sandwich and a glass of milk. The doctors said no caffeine for a while, so my favorite drink in the world, Coke, is off limits. At least until I can escape and get to a gas station. I need it like an addict needs crack. My room is exactly as I left it, the bed turned down and my clothes thrown into a corner. A simple white dresser and mirror, desk, and a twin bed covered in my worn out quilt decorate the room. ~ Apryl Baker

By the way," he said, so casually that Lauren was instantly on guard, "a magazine reporter called me this morning. They know who you are and they know we're getting married. When the story breaks, I'm afraid the press will start hounding you."
"How did they find out?" Lauren gasped.
He shot her a glinting smile. "I told them."
Everything was happening so quickly that Lauren felt dazed. "Did you happen to tell them when and where we're getting married?" she chided.
"I told them soon." He closed his briefcase and drew her out of the chair in which she had just sat down. "Do you want a big church wedding with a cast of hundreds-or could you settle for me in a little chapel somewhere, with just your family and a few friends? When we come back from our honeymoon we could throw a huge party,and that would satisfy our social obligations to everyone else we know."
Lauren quickly considered the burden a big church wedding would place on her father's health and nonexistent finances, and the highly desirable alternative of becoming Nick's wife right away. "You and a chapel," she said.
"Good." He grinned. "Because I would go quietly insane waiting to make you mine. I'm not a patient man."
"Really?" She straightened the knot in his tie so that she'd have an excuse to touch him. "I never noticed that."
"Brat," he said affectionately. ~ Judith McNaught

There are many things the Chinese do differently from Westerners. There's the question of extra credit, for example. One time, Lulu came home and told me about a math test she'd just taken. She said she thought it had gone extremely well, which is why she didn't feel the need to do the extra-credit problems.
I was speechless for a second, uncomprehending. "Why not?" I asked. "Why didn't you do them?"
"I didn't want to miss recess."
A fundamental tenet of being Chinese is that you always do all of the extra credit all of the time.
"Why?" asked Lulu, when I explained this to her.
For me this was like asking why I should breathe.
"None of my friends do it," Lulu added.
"That's not true," I said. "I'm 100% sure that Amy and Junno did the extra credit." Amy and Junno were the Asian kids in Lulu's class. And I was right about them; Lulu admitted it.
"But Rashad and Ian did the extra credit too, and they're not Asian," she added.
"Aha! So many of your friends did do the extra credit! And I didn't say only Asians do extra credit. Anyone with good parents knows you have to do the extra credit. I'm in shock, Lulu. What will the teacher think of you? You went to recess instead of doing extra credit?" I was almost in tears. "Extra credit is not extra. It's just credit. It's what separates the good students from the bad students."
"Aww - recess is so fun," Lulu offered as her final sally. But after that, Lulu, like Sophia. always did the e ~ Amy Chua