You Think You Can Play Me Quotes

Are these black cats like the hare?"

"No. They're smaller; they only want me to play with them. Fly away with them to a place on the other side of the moon. There's a garden there, all silvery-gold, and the cats and hares dance and jump round and round. They can jump so much farther than they can on earth; it's like flying, and they love it so. Sometimes I've felt as if I'd like to dance and jump through the air too, they looked so happy, and I've thought maybe if I did I wouldn't be afraid any more, but when I look they're all dancing round a Figure that sits still in the middle of the garden. A big black Figure with a hood on. And It hasn't got any face. Its face is so awful that It keeps it covered. And then I get so terribly afraid. And everything stops."

"And you see all that in the picture?"

"I don't know." She hesitated again. "I think it's partly dreams. After I've thought they were at the windows - the cats and the big hare. They sit there and watch, you see, after I've gone to sleep. But they don't come often. I don't usually know what's there."

She came closer and whispered, her blue eyes earnest and weird, "I don't think it's an animal hare. I think it's Aunt Sarai's hare, that maybe it came from hell. It isn't swearing to say that word just as the name of a place, is it? That's why people used to be so scared of witches' black cats, isn't it, because they thought they weren't earth-cats, they were from the devil? Mothe ~ Evangeline Walton

Halfway home, the sky goes from dark gray to almost black and a loud thunder snap accompanies the first few raindrops that fall. Heavy, warm, big drops, they drench me in seconds, like an overturned bucket from the sky dumping just on my head. I reach my hands up and out, as if that can stop my getting wetter, and open my mouth, trying to swallow the downpour, till it finally hits me how funny it is, my trying to stop the rain.

This is so funny to me, I laugh and laugh, as loud and free as I want. Instead of hurrying to higher ground, I jump lower, down off the curb, splashing through the puddles, playing and laughing all the way home. In all my life till now, rain has meant staying inside and not being able to go out to play. But now for the first time I realize that rain doesn't have to be bad. And what's more, I understand, sadness doesn't have to be bad, either. Come to think of it, I figure you need sadness, just as you need the rain.

Thoughts and ideas pour through my awareness. It feels to me that happiness is almost scary, like how I imagine being drunk might feel - real silly and not caring what anybody else says. Plus, that happy feeling always leaves so fast, and you know it's going to go before it even does. Sadness lasts longer, making it more familiar, and more comfortable. But maybe, I wonder, there's a way to find some happiness in the sadness. After all, it's like the rain, something you can't avoid. And so, it seems to me, if you're cau ~ Antwone Quenton Fisher

The problem is, you can't tell people these things. They'll think you're crazy. And I say to myself: What can I do with this life inside me? I'd like to give it ... to make a present of it ... to go up to people and tell them: You need to be joyful! You know? You have to play at being pirates ... to build cities of marble ... to laugh ... to set off firecrackers ~ Roberto Arlt

For me, it works to my advantage when people think I'm stupid. If somebody who disdains you or wants to control you underestimates you, you can play their game right back. ~ Veronica Webb

Do you think we're being robbed?" I whispered.
He nodded gravely, then crawled over to my closet and opened it.
"Did you want to borrow something more formal to wear for the robbery? I'm not sure I have anything in your size."
"Shh," he whispered. "Don't you at least have a tennis racket or anything?"
"You think they came here looking for a doubles partner?"
He turned quickly and gave me a look, then whipped a Wiffle bat out of the mess.
"Wow," I said. "You jock-type people really are single-minded, aren't you? Uh-oh, we're being robbed. Let's play ball!"
"It's for a weapon," Carson whispered.
"You're gonna hit them with a Wiffle bat?"
"What else you got?"
"Um...A pillow"
"Exactly" ... "Stay behind me," he whispered.
"Can I just say that I never knew this about me before, but weirdly enough this whole protective he-man thing actually turns me on."
"Josie."
"What," I asked.
"Shut Up."
I grabbed my pillow, just in case, so to speak, and tiptoed behind him around the mussed-up bed. "Maybe we should just hide in the closet."
He turned around, rolled his eyes and kissed me. "Shh," he repeated. ~ Rachel Vail

We don't even know what's going on in the rest of the world. All we can do is-is play Scooby-Doo in the cellar."
"That's not all we can do, Sophie," Archer said.
Whenever Archer used my first name, I knew he was serious. "What do you mean?"
He backed up a few steps. "Look, you want the Casnoffs gone and these kids saved, or at least…well, put out of their misery, I guess. You don't want anyone to raise demons ever again. There are other people who want those things, too."
"Please tell me you are not talking about The Eye."
He looked away and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm just saying that you and The Eye have a common goal here."
I wasn't sure if I was stunned, or angry, or disgusted. It was kind of a mixture of all three. "Okay, is there a gas leak down here? Or did you hit your head on the tunnel? Because that's really the only excuse for you saying something so freaking stupid."
"Oh, you're right, Mercer," he said. "The idea of a trying to fight an army of demons with a bunch of trained soldiers is beyond ridiculous. Maybe we can go get Nausicaa and see if she'll give us some faerie dust to make the problem go away."
"Don't be a jackass," I snapped.
"Then don't be naïve," he retorted. "This is too big for us to handle, Sophie. This is too big for Prodigium to deal with on their own. But if we could all work together, there's a chance that-"
"What do you think, Cross? That we'll ask The Eye to help us, and they'll be ~ Rachel Hawkins

My Shadow
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Don't get me wrong - I love Jason Kidd. He's a great point guard (But) how am I comparing myself to him when I think I'm the best point guard to play basketball? That doesn't make any sense. I mean, how can I sit here and compare myself to somebody if I already think I'm the best?I'm telling you what it is: I know I'm the best point guard in the NBA. I don't need anybody else to tell me that. When I go on the basketball court, if I think about what you're all saying, I'll lose my mind. ~ Stephon Marbury

Last night I undressed for bed. But instead of crawling between the sheets I decided to stand, naked, in front of the large full-length mirror that is propped against the wall next to my bed. ⠀
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I turned off the bright lights, and found a song that spoke to the energy I could feel under my skin. For a while I just stood there. And I looked at myself. Bare skin. Open Heart. Clear truth. ⠀
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It's a wonder, after 42 years on earth, to allow it to fully land, this knowing that I can stop, and look at myself and think things other than unkind words. ⠀
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Don't get me wrong. I don't want to paint you a pretty social media picture that doesn't play out in real life. I'm not suddenly completely fine with all that is. I'm human and I'm a woman in the midst of this particular culture, and so of course I'd love to be tighter and firmer and lifted. I'd love to have the skin and metabolism I did in my twenties. I wish, often, that my stomach were flatter. I wear makeup and I dye away my gray hair. I worry about these things too, of course I do. ⠀
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But finally, and fully - I can stand and look at myself and be filled, completely, with love. I can look at myself entirely bare and think, yes, I like myself now. Just as I am. Even if nothing changes. This me. She is good. And she is beautiful. ⠀
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And even in the space of allowing myself to be human, and annoyed with those things I view as imperfections, I honor and celebrate this shift. ⠀
Jeanette LeBlanc

You can either hold me up by my ass or we can put pillows under my hips to raise them."
"Let's go for the pillows."
"You think I'm too heavy to lift?" she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
"No, I just want my hands free to play with your boobs."
"Good point. THIs position is supposed to help the man 'give the clit the attention it deserves'. That's me quoting the book, by the way."
"I like this book. It's nice and friendly and tells me to touch your clit. I appreciate that."
"So does my clit. Ready?"
Ben glanced down. HE was more than ready.
"God, yes."
"Alright," Beatriz said. "Let's do it. ~ Tiffany Reisz

He grinned. "You think if we play nice, you won't wind up with my cock inside you anymore."
I shifted in my seat. "Must you be so vulgar?"
"What did I say?" He seemed genuinely confused.
I leaned forward and lowered my voice. "Cock. Do you have to say it like that?"
He grinned. "I'm sorry. Can you say that again? I didn't hear you."
I squinted. "You heard me. I know you did."
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Maybe. But I really liked hearing you say cock."
A busboy walked by our table just as Weston spoke. The guy looked our way and smirked, but kept going.
"Keep your voice down."
Needless to say, he didn't. "Is it just my cock you don't like talking about? Or is it all cocks in general? ~ Vi Keeland

How You Doing, Little Lucy?" His bright tone and mild expression indicates we're playing a game we almost never play. It's a game called How You Doing? and it basically starts off like we don't hate each other. We act like normal colleagues who don't want to swirl their hands in each other's blood. It's disturbing.

"Great, thanks, Big Josh. How You Doing?"

"Super. Gonna go get coffee. Can I get you some tea?" He has his heavy black mug in his hand. I hate his mug.

I look down; my hand is already holding my red polka-dot mug. He'd spit in anything he made me. Does he think I'm crazy? "I think I'll join you."

We march purposefully toward the kitchen with identical footfalls, left, right, left, right, like prosecutors walking toward the camera in the opening credits of Law & Order. It requires me to almost double my stride. Colleagues break off conversations and look at us with speculative expressions. Joshua and I look at each other and bare our teeth. Time to act civil. Like executives.

"Ah-ha-ha," we say to each other genially at some pretend joke. "Ah-ha-ha."

We sweep around a corner. Annabelle turns from the photocopier and almost drops her papers. "What's happening?"

Joshua and I nod at her and continue striding, unified in our endless game of one-upmanship. My short striped dress flaps from the g-force.

"Mommy and Daddy love you very much, kids," Joshua says quietly so only I can h ~ Sally Thorne

Girls, be good to these spirits of music and poetry
that breast your threshold with their scented gifts.
Lift the lyre, clear and sweet, they leave with you.
As for me, this body is now so arthritic
I cannot play, hardly even hold the instrument.
Can you believe my white hair was once black?
And oh, the soul grows heavy with the body.
Complaining knee-joints creak at every move.
To think I danced as delicate as a deer!
Some gloomy poems came from these thoughts:
useless: we are all born to lose life,
and what is worse, girls, to lose youth.
The legend of the goddess of the dawn
I'm sure you know: how rosy Eos
madly in love with gorgeous young Tithonus
swept him like booty to her hiding-place
but then forgot he would grow old and grey
while she in despair pursued her immortal way. ~ Sappho

Empty-page staring again tonight. It's maddening. I suppose people who don't write (like the Connollies) imagine anything that can be though can be expressed. Well, I don't know. I can't do it. It's this sort of thing that makes me belittle the whole business: what's the good of a 'talent' if you can't do it when you want to? What should we think of a woodcarver who couldn't woodcarver? or a pianist who couldn't play the piano? Bah, likewise grrr. ~ Philip Larkin

I was once asked to pick a couple of records for an interview I was doing on Radio 2. I picked one by Will Oldham and one by Joanna Newsom. Someone on the production phoned me to say that I couldn't have either record because they were 'too alternative' and I could just pick two from their playlist. Now, personally, I think that Radio 2's listeners would dig both Joanna Newsom and Will Oldham if they heard their records, and that the fact they don't get to hear them contributes to the cultural wasteland we live in. I told them that I'd been to see Joanna Newsom in the Albert Hall a couple of weeks before and it had been sold out. How could she be 'too alternative'?
'Alternative' and 'mainstream' aren't strictly to do with whether things are popular or minority interest. They are ideological labels. Someone like Joe Pasquale would be called 'mainstream' and regularly pops up on TV, but would play the smaller end of the touring-theatre circuit. If Joanna Newsom can sell out Albert Hall, why can't she get played on Radio 2? I would agree that it's because her work is too layered, challenging and interesting. Think about that. What you get to hear about is filtered, and not filtered to get rid of useless cunts like Joe Pasquale, but of things that might enrich your life. ~ Frankie Boyle

I know what you think of me, Miles. I know what you
have thought of me. But I have a heart. I do have a heart. I just cannot afford to use it. Don't you see? Why can't you see this? Whereas you
may play at all of this as much as you like. There will always be someone for you. And that is the difference. I cannot afford to use my heart. And you
you choose not to use yours.' - Cynthia Brightley to Miles Redmond ~ Julie Anne Long

Hufflepuff is my favorite house in some ways. There comes a point in the book where each house has a chance to rise up to a certain challenge. The Slytherins decided they'd rather not play, the Ravenclaws – some play, some won't, but the Hufflepuffs stay to fight. The Gryffindors – compromised of lots of full hearty and show off people. The Hufflepuffs stayed for a different reason. They didn't want to show off, they weren't being wreckless, that's the essence of Hufflepuff. My daughter Jessica said to me recently, who wasn't sorted into Hufflepuff, 'I think we should all want to be Hufflepuffs.' I can only say to you, I would not be disappointed at all to be in Hufflepuff. I'm a little upset anyone does feel that way. ~ J.K. Rowling

I think that every one whom you may ask how to write a play will reply, if he really can write one, that he doesn't know how it is done. It is a little as if you were to ask Romeo what he did to fall in love with Juliet and to make her love him; he would reply that he did not know, that it simply happened.
Well, my dear friend, if you want me to be quite frank, I'll own up that I don't know how to write a play. One day a long time ago, when I was scarcely out of school, I asked my father the same question. He answered: It's very simple; the first act clear, the last act short, and all the acts interesting. ~ Alexandre Dumas-fils

It's been six months, Nancy.'
'What's your hurry? It took me a year to get used to living with Carl. I mean, what do men do anyway? They work, eat, drink, and play games. Sex for them is in the sports and recreation category. You can't live with a man and not be lonely.'
'You think so?'
'Absolutely. Besides, once you have kids, it all changes anyway. Everything seems to make sense then. ~ Andre Dubus III

I don't know which will upset you more," she replied. "Telling you it's nothing but clutter or confessing that I often take it out and play 'I am Boba Fett' when I don't think anyone can see me. ~ Shelly Laurenston

Regarding pushing the form, ideas interest me more than form. I think you can write a very subversive play in a three-act structure. The content makes the play. I feel the form is simply dressing, because ultimately, you want to communicate to the audience, and sometimes the best way to do that is to present a provocative idea in a format that is comfortable for them to receive. Then the idea will come through directly, right in solar plexus. After all, I want to make a living as an artist, and that means speaking to the audience in a form they can understand. ~ Caridad Svich

I was honest with her."
"You gave her your version-or mine?"
She flushed with angry color. How short that truce was! He expected her to play the role of the happy bride when he couldn't keep his insults to himself?
"I gave her facts,not assumptions. And this isn't going to work if you're going to continue to deliberately provoke me at every turn!"
He raked an exasperated hand through his long hair. "I'm sorry,that was unintentional. I will make every effort to guard my tongue in mixed company."
She narrowed her eyes on him, guessing, "But not when we're alone?"
"The pretense is for others, not ourselves. Neither of us is delusional."
"Of course not,far be it for me to think there's any reality in this. But if you think I can portray genuine smiles and bubbly happiness while around others when I'm so furious that I'm plotting your demise,well, think again! ~ Johanna Lindsey

Humor has bailed me out of more tight situations than I can think of. If you go with your instincts and keep your humor, creativity follows. With luck, success comes, too. ~ Jimmy Buffett

When they killed him, Mother wouldn't hold her peace, so they slit her throat. I was stupid then, being only nine, and I fought to save them both. But the thorns held me tight. I've learned to appreciate thorns since. The thorns taught me the game. They let me understand what all those grim and serious men who've fought the Hundred War have yet to learn. You can only win the game when you understand that it IS a game. Let a man play chess, and tell him that every pawn is his friend. Let him think both bishops holy. Let him remember happy days in the shadows of his castles. Let him love his queen. Watch him loose them all. ~ Mark Lawrence

And a variety of more colorful names. Hypothetically." The privateer cast him an assessing glance. "Just how did you know I wasn't who I claimed to be, Mister Brekker?"
Kaz shrugged. "You speak Kerch like a native - a rich native. You don't talk like someone who came up with sailors and street thugs."
The privateer turned slightly, giving Kaz his full attention. His ease was gone, and now he looked like a man who might command armies. "Mister Brekker," he said. "Kaz, if I may? I am in a vulnerable position. I am a king ruling a country with an empty treasury, facing enemies on all sides. There are also forces within my country that might seize any absence as an opportunity to make their own bid for power."
"So you're saying you'd make an excellent hostage."
"I suspect that the ransom for me would be considerably less than the price Kuwei has on his head. Really, it's a bit of a blow to my self-esteem."
"You don't seem to be suffering," said Kaz.
"Sturmhond was a creation of my youth, and his reputation still serves me well. I cannot bid on Kuwei Yul-Bo as the king of Ravka. I hope your plan will play out the way you think it will. But if it doesn't, the loss of such a prize would be seen as a humiliating blunder diplomatically and strategically. I enter that auction as Sturmhond or as no one at all. If that is a problem - "
Kaz settled his hands on his cane. "As long as you don't try to con me, you can enter as the Fairy Queen of Istame ~ Leigh Bardugo

You've heard me call myself a bluesman and a blues singer. I call myself a blues singer, but you ain't never heard me call myself a blues guitar man. Well, that's because there's been so many can do it better'n I can, play the blues better'n me. I think a lot of them have told me things, taught me things. ~ B.B. King

I mean I don't think it got me interested in acting. I think it might be what makes it so that I can have the idea of the variety of people in the world, different incomes. That helps. When you're going to play someone it's interesting and nice to see experiences that aren't like yours. But there's always the remarkable similarity of all people. ~ Peter Sarsgaard

One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one more thing to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say. ~ C.S. Lewis

Cover versions, that's my forte, that's all I ever used to do. When you play your own songs, it's quite scary, 'cause I'm quite honest and open, they can be very revealing. But covers, I don't have to think about, just get me up there! ~ Ellie Goulding

The thing that sticks to me most about theater is that because it's such an ape crazy nonstop experience, you really don't have time to think about anything else. You're just really present; you have to be, or else, you know, you can't stop the play. ~ Sebastian Stan

Seriously... a sermon is not going to achieve anything. We all know perfectly well that one must not commit suicide. And yet there are times when the world we live in becomes so tough on us that we play with the thought. Therefore, it's useless to appeal to ethics; he ought to go with a more practical and concrete approach. If I were to stop suicide, I would do it like this: "Dying means falling into an eternal state of nothingness, a perfect void that can't be conceived by anything that is alive. Just think about it: your brain goes away. You do not have any thought anymore. Surely, you've heard of the phrase 'I think, thus I am,' no? Give it some careful thought. Nothing exists. Do you get this? Nothing exists. How many seconds could you endure being in a world without sound, without light, and without any kind of sensation? A world where you don't even get hungry. Where you have no desires at all. Can you follow me? But death is a perfect void, so it exceeds even such a sensation-less world. There is no future. Heaven is just a construct people who fear death made up. You should know why there will always be people who believe in a world after death despite the advent of science; it's because they are scared. Scared of what waits beyond death. So, don't think ending your own life will save you! It simply ends. It E-N-D-S. Suicide is the act of killing yourself, and dying without comprehending the meaning of death is but escaping from reality. Although the result is the sam ~ Eiji Mikage

Thanks, Mom. Thanks for making me try out for this play.'

I think I might have just made being a mother totally worthwhile for her.

I will try to never forget her face...Mom's got tears in her eyes and she's smiling. It's an amazing look.

I have to remember how powerful it can be to say thank you.

Especially to the people you live with. ~ Holly Goldberg Sloan

It's been four years. It's been the best four years. It's been wonderful, it's been a privilege to work under Steven Moffat. But I think when you gotta go, you gotta go It's sad, I'm going to miss it. I'm going to miss Comic-Con as well. It wasn't an easy decision, but I dunno, you can't play it forever. And, look, they'll get someone amazing and brilliant, and that's the great thing about the show. It continues, and it will get bigger and better. And you'll forget about me. ~ Matt Smith

I intercepted Chaol, and he informed me of your 'condition.' You'd think a man in his position wouldn't be so squeamish, especially after examining all of those corpses."

Calaena opened an eye and frowned as Dorian sat on her bed. "I'm in a state of absolute agony and I can't be bothered."

"It can't be that bad," he said, fishing a deck of cards from his jacket. "Want to play?"

"I already told you that I don't feel well."

"You look fine to me." He skillfully shuffled the deck. "Just one game."

"Don't you pay people to entertain you?"

He glowered, breaking the deck. "You should be honored by my company."

"I'd be honored if you would leave."

"For someone who relies on my good graces, you're very bold."

"Bold? I've barely begun." Lying on her side, she curled her knees to her chest.

He laughed, pocketing the deck of cards. "Your new canine companion is doing well, if you wish to know."
She moaned into her pillow. "Go away. I feel like dying."

"No fair maiden should die alone," he said, putting a hand on hers. "Shall I read to you in your final moments? What story would you like?"

She snatched her hand back. "How about the story of the idiotic prince who won't leave the assassin alone?"

"Oh! I love that story! It has such a happy ending, too - why, the assassin was really feigning her illness in order to get the prince's attention! Wh ~ Sarah J. Maas

I'll explain it to you. To me it's more than a game." She touches her chest and says, "When you love something as much as I love football, you just feel it inside. Did you ever love doing something so bad that it consumed you?"
"A long time ago."
"That's what football is to me. It's my passion, my life ... my escape. When I play, I forget everything that sucks in my life. And when we win ... " She looks down like she's embarrassed to admit what she's about to reveal. "I know this is going to sound stupid, but when we win I think miracles can happen. ~ Simone Elkeles

I don't think you can discriminate against budgets, you know? I'm an actor, I guess, so I'm just trying to play as many characters as I can. If there's a character I think I can play, and they're going to let me do it, I'll do it whether it's $10 or $1 million or more. ~ Ryan Gosling

You can do anything you want. You don't believe me. You think, she's out of her head. Yeah, I'm out of my head- on being me. What are you on? On being them. You don't even know. I bet you were never given a chance to know ... Listen. You can be anything you want to be. Be careful. It's a spell. It's magic. Listen to the words ... You are anything ... everyone, anyone ... You listen to them, teachers, parents, politicians. They're always saying, if you steal you're a thief, if you sleep aroung you're a slut, if you take drugs you're a junkie. They want to get inside your head and control you with their fear ... Don't play their game. Nothing can touch you; you stay beautiful. ~ Melvin Burgess

I love feeding off the audience, and to me, what's the point if you're not going to think of the fans. Anyone can play music in their house, but you put it out because you want interact with your fans. And, as an artist, you get so much from your fans. ~ Dido Armstrong

Can you please also give me instructions for dancing?"

"Excuse me?"

"I need instructions for dancing. Like how do I move my body to music in front of other people? Break it down. Step by step."

"Seriously? Dancing isn't one of those things that come with instructions. It's not like putting together Ikea furniture."

"Please help me."

"Well, first of all, this is not the sort of music that will be playing." She motions to the pianist, who is bald and bearded, which I've always found to be a bizarre combination. You would think you would want cranial and mandibular hair consistency.

"No Ravel's Bolero. Got it."

"No classical music, period. They'll probably just play all the crap that's on the radio."

"I amend my original request. I need instructions for dancing to noise."

"You just move your body to the beat. Feel the music." Miney puts her arms up and sways to sounds I do not hear. She closes her eyes, leans on the tips of her toes, and jumps. After approximately ninety seconds, she stops and looks at me. "Your turn."

"I don't think so." Miney doesn't respond. She just waits.

"Fine." I copy her, jump up and down, though I don't actually jump down, which is a misnomer. I let gravity do its job. My sneakers make discordant squeaks along the marble floor.

"No. Stop. You look like you're having a seizure. Think of dancing like having a conversation but ~ Julie Buxbaum

Good," said Gideon. "It means the effect of the alcohol is wearing off. One question, by the way: what did you want a hairbrush for?"
"I wanted it as a substitute for a mike," I murmured through my fingers. "Oh, my God! I'm so horrible."
"But you have a pretty voice," said Gideon. "Even I liked it, and I told you I hate musicals."
"Then how come you can play songs from them so well?" I put my hands in my lap and looked at him. "You were amazing! Is there anything you can't do?" Good heavens, I heard myself sounding like a groupie.
"No. Go ahead, you're welcome to think me some kind of god!" He was grinning now. "It's rather sweet of you! ~ Kerstin Gier

Why do you care, anyway?" I say. "You can be either cruel instructor or concerned boyfriend." I tense up at the word "boyfriend." I didn't mean to use it so flippantly, but it's too late now. "You can't play both parts at the same time."

"I am not cruel." He scowls at me "I was protecting you this morning. How do you think Peter and his idiot friends would have reacted if they discovered that you and I were..." He sighs. "You would never win. They would always call you ranking a result of my favoritism rather than your skill."

I open my mouth to object, but I can't. A few smart remarks come to mind, but I dismiss them. He's right. My cheeks warm, and I cool them with my hands.

"You didn't have to insult me to prove something to them," I say finally.

"And you didn't have to run off to your brother just because I hurt you," he says. He rubs at the back of his neck.

"Besides- it worked, didn't it?"

"At my expense."

"I didn't think it would affect you this way." Then he looks down and shrugs. "Sometimes I forget that I can hurt you. That you are capable of being hurt."

I slide my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. A strange feeling goes through me- a sweet, aching weakness. He did what he did because he believed in my strength.

At home it was Caleb who was strong, because he could forget himself, because all the characteristics my parents valued came naturally to him. ~ Veronica Roth

Do you know how crazy that made me? I'm trying to concentrate on my fucking fucking ball baseball game and all I can think about is why the hell the girl I'm in love with is ignoring me. I knewsomething was wrong when you never called. I tried to shake it off, but I couldn't. You can't do that tome. Don't you understand? You can't fucking do that to me when I'm trying to play ball! ~ J. Sterling

I kind of play like a guy. I don't hold grudges. I don't get dramatic with things. If somebody slide tackles me in training and we leave the field, I'm still talking to them. I think that there's very few of us out there that can just take confrontation, and if you've got an issue with something, you can go to that person and say it. ~ Carli Lloyd

He lay there and felt something and then her hand holding him and searching lower and he helped with his hands and then lay back in the dark and did not think at all and only felt the weight and the strangeness inside and she said, "Now you can't tell who is who can you?"
"No."
"You are changing," she said. "Oh you are. You are. Yes you are and you're my girl Catherine. Will you change and be my girl and let me take you?"
"You're Catherine."
"No. I'm Peter. You're my wonderful Catherine. You're my beautiful lovely Catherine. You were so good to change. Oh thank you, Catherine, so much. Please understand. Please know and understand. I'm going to make love to you forever. ~ Ernest Hemingway,

I've been lucky enough to work with the amazing Golden Globe Award winning Chris Colfer and that is fantastic. I get to work with him on a day-to-day basis and he is such a generous talent. Chris and I like to play. He always throws me things and I ping them back to him and it's really fun. We definitely have a very lovely rapport personally - I think on screen too - and I hope you can see that in the characters. ~ Darren Criss

Then I saw the keyboard of an organ which filled one whole side of the walls. On the desk was a music-book covered with red notes. I asked leave to look at it and read, 'Don Juan Triumphant.' 'Yes,' he said, 'I compose sometimes.' I began that work twenty years ago. When I have finished, I shall take it away with me in that coffin and never wake up again.' 'You must work at it as seldom as you can,' I said. He replied, 'I sometimes work at it for fourteen days and nights together, during which I live on music only, and then I rest for years at a time.' 'Will you play me something out of your Don Juan Triumphant?' I asked, thinking to please him. 'You must never ask me that,' he said, in a gloomy voice. 'I will play you Mozart, if you like, which will only make you weep; but my Don Juan, Christine, burns; and yet he is not struck by fire from Heaven.' Thereupon we returned to the drawing-room. I noticed that there was no mirror in the whole apartment. I was going to remark upon this, but Erik had already sat down to the piano. He said, 'You see, Christine, there is some music that is so terrible that it consumes all those who approach it. Fortunately, you have not come to that music yet, for you would lose all your pretty coloring and nobody would know you when you returned to Paris. Let us sing something from the Opera, Christine Daae.' He spoke these last words as though he were flinging an insult at me."

"What did you do?"

"I had no time to think about ~ Gaston Leroux

I am quite glad you are at home; for these hurries and forebodings by which I have been surrounded all day long, have made me nervous without reason. You are not going out, I hope?'
No; I am going to play backgammon with you, if you like,' said the Doctor.
I don't think I do like, if I may speak my mind. I am not fit to be pitted against you to-night. Is the tea-board still there Lucie? I can't see. ~ Charles Dickens

If it were any of the other Sharpes, he wouldn't balk. But the idea of spending serveral hours in her company was both intoxicating and terrifying.
"If you don't let me go along," she continued, "I'll just follow you.
He scowled at her. She probably would; the woman was as stubborn as she was beautiful.
"And don't think you can outride me, either," she added. "Halstead Hall has a very good stable, and lady Bell is one of our swiftest mounts."
"Lady Bell?" he said sarcastically. "Not Crack Shot or Pistol?"
She glared over at him. "Lady Bell was my favorite doll when I was a girl, the last one Mama gave me before she died. I used to play with it whenever I wanted to remember her. The doll got so ragged that I threw her away when I outgrew her." Her voice lowered. "I regretted that later, but by then it was too late."
The idea of her playing with a doll to remember her late mother made his throat tighten and his heart falter. "Fine," he bit out. "You can go with me to High Wycombe."
Surprise turned her cheeks rosy. "Oh, thank you, Jackson! You won't regret it, I promise you!"
"I already regret it," he grumbled. "And you must do as I say. None of your going off half-cocked, do you hear?"
"I never go off half-cocked!"
"No, you just walk around with a pistol packed full of powder, thinking you can hold men at bay with it."
She tossed her head. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?"
"Not as long as we both shall live ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Love him,' said Jacques, with vehemence, 'love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters? And how long, at the best, can it last, since you are both men and still have everywhere to go? Only five minutes, I assure you, only five minutes, and most of that, helas! in the dark. And if you think of them as dirty, then they will be dirty - they will be dirty because you will be giving nothing, you will be despising your flesh and his. But you can make your time together anything but dirty, you can give each other something which will make both of you better - forever - if you will not be ashamed, if you will only not play it safe.' He paused, watching me, and then looked down to his cognac. 'You play it safe long enough,' he said, in a different tone, 'and you'll end up trapped in your own dirty body, forever and forever and forever - like me. ~ James Baldwin

...human beings need someone friendly to listen to them when they're grieving. So feel free to talk to me. I will be friendly. You have nice shoes."
"Is that the only thing you notice about people?"
"I've always wanted shoes. They're the sole piece of clothing that makes any sense, assuming ideal environmental conditions. They don't play into your strange and nonsensical taboos about not letting anyone see your - "
"Is this really the only thing you can think of to comfort someone who is grieving?"
"It was number one on my list." Great.
"The list has seven million entries. Do you want to hear number two?"
"Is it silence?"
"That didn't even make the list."
"Move it to number two."
"All right, I . . . Oh. ~ Brandon Sanderson

You didn't play baseball that well with two hands. How do you think you're going to make it with one?
"If you're just going to tell me what I can't do, you can leave. ~ Mary Jane Auch

Kato's expression shifts into something I could almost call a smile for the first time since I found him. He plucks the chordsagain in the beginnings of a tune I recognize, a ballad popular in southern Sinta. His fingers move with skill and subtlety over the strings. I had no idea he was musical.

"Maybe we're not meant to kill it." He keeps playing. "Doesn't music soothe the beast? I'll play, you sing."

"I sound like a strangled Satyr when I sing."

He smiles. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"There's no need for mudslinging," I say with a huff.

He chuckles softly. "I can carry a tune."

"Great!" I pat his arm. "That'll be your job. I'll stand back - waaaaay back - while you calm the beast. I'm confident you'll sound as good as you look."

His chest puffs out. "How do I look?"

"Terrible." I grin. "You needed a bath, a shave, and a comb before we even set foot on the Ice Plains. Now, I can just barely make out your eyes and your nose. The rest is all" - I flap my hands around - "hair."

His chest deflates. He eyes me wryly. "I could say the same about you."

I gasp. "I grew a beard? Do you think Griffin will like it? I've been trying to keep it neat, but I may have picked up an eel."

Kato laughs outright, and he really is unbearably handsome. Some of the grimness evaporates from his eyes. "I was talking about this." He gives one of my tousled waves a light tug ~ Amanda Bouchet

You have no fucking idea, little bit of a thing, so old are you that you know everything? So worldly with the round eyes and the way you see the good in everything, even me. Forget everything you fucking think you know. The second I was inside you people would know, you'd be different, they'd treat you differently, tarred with my fucking ruined brush, all the rumors flying around, people who had once been your friends because they'd know I had hands all over you. I don't fuck like a gentleman, little bit, I fuck like an animal, that stains a little girl like you. You want pretty-fucking-romance, to show off a man to your friends, to go to parties with him on your arm, so fucking meek and boring, that's not me, will never be me. I'm not normal, the wiring is not right in my head, and I'm not for you, walk away before I've had my mouth on that pussy and drank down your honey, because if you don't and I taste you, I feel how it is to shove my cock as deep and as hard as I can inside you, it's all over, you get me? You hearing what I'm telling you? Game over, 'cause I don't play by anyone's rules but my own and my rules are nasty, my rules are fucking filthy. ~ V. Theia

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner
As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:
Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
Think true love acted simple modesty.
Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.
Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,
And she b ~ William Shakespeare

You know, once," Robert said, "I was working in the shop, doing some repairs on a music box, and it was all going wrong. Da took me aside and told me to think of it like life: 'It looks complicated when you see all the separate pieces, but the purpose of the music box is to play joyful music. You just have to remember how to fit them together so it will. The same with life really. It's just about the living of it. That's all you have, and all you can do: live and be happy. ~ Peter Bunzl

No. I like to listen to music, but only the kind you play - absolute music, the kind where you can feel someone rattling the gates of Heaven and Hell. I think I like music because it has so little to do with morality. Everything else is moral or immoral, and I am looking for something that isn't. Morality has only ever made me suffer. I'm not expressing myself very well. - Did you know that there needs to be a god who is god and devil at once? I have heard it said that there once was a god like that." The ~ Hermann Hesse

Tate won't like it that we kept the truth from him."
"I'm resigned to that," Cecily said half-truthfully. "He would never have turned to me, anyway, even if he knew he had mixed blood. I've been living on dreams too long already."
"If you go away from him, he'll follow you," Leta said unexpectedly. "There's a tie, a bond, between you that can't be broken."
"There's Audrey," Cecily pointed out.
"Honey, there have been other Audreys," she replied. "He never brought them home or talked about them. They were loose relationships, and not very many at all-never any who were innocent."
"Audrey's lasted a long time."
Leta searched her eyes. "If he's sleeping with Audrey, Cecily, why can't he keep his hands off you?"
Cecily's heart turned over twice. "Wh…what?"
"Simple question," came the droll reply. She grinned at the younger woman's embarrassment. "When you came in the kitchen that last time you were here, before Tate left, your mouth was swollen and you wouldn't look straight at him. He was badly shaken. It doesn't take a mind-reader to know what was going on in my living room. It isn't like Tate to play games with innocent girls."
"He doesn't think I am, anymore," she returned curtly. "I let him think that Colby and I are…very close."
"Uh-oh."
She scowled. "Uh-oh, what?"
"The only thing that's kept him away from you this long is that he didn't want to take advantage of you," Leta replied. "If he thinks you're even slight ~ Diana Palmer

You promised to be on your best behavior," I reminded him, breathless.
"You kissed me," he growled. His voice had gone very deep.
"Well, but you started it by kissing my neck."
"True. I hadn't planned that." His sultry voice, paired with those blazing eyes, told me I needed to get away from him. I hurried to the end of the bed, where I jumped off and began to pace back and forth, yanking out my loose hairband and pulling my hair back into a tight ponytail. I tried hard not to think about the taste of his lips. I'd had my first kiss, and I'd never be the same.
"Why did you stop?" he asked.
"Because you were moving on to other things."
He scratched his chin and cheek. "Hmm, moved too quickly. Rookie mistake."
I crossed my arms again, watching him speculate internally like a coach outlining a play that had gone wrong. Incredible. Then he sized me up in his sights again.
"But I can see you still want me."
I gave him my meanest stare, but it was hard to look at him. Gosh, he was hot! And a total player. The kiss meant nothing to him.
"Oh," he said with mock sadness, "there it goes. Mad instead? Well, sort of. You can't seem to muster a really good anger - "
"Stop it!"
"Sorry, was I saying that out loud?"
"I can read people, too, you know. Well, not you, but at least I have the decency to try not to notice, to give them some sort of emotional privacy!"
"Yes, how very decent of you." He hadn't moved from his langu ~ Wendy Higgins

Some people think very cleverly, 'Let me
live my whole life the way I want to live.
In the last few moments, I will remember
god and chant His name and enter heaven
somehow.' Please be very clear, only that
which you thought of in your whole life,
will come up when you leave the body.
Don't think that at that last moment you
can play the game! No!
- HDH Bhagavan Sri Nithyananda Paramashivoham, in the book "Living Enlightenment ~ Paramahamsa Nithyananda

The longer I love, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company ... a church ... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past ... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude ... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you ... we are in charge of our attitudes. ~ Charles R. Swindoll

You know this girl.
Her hair is neither long nor short nor light nor dark. She parts it precisely in the middle.
She sits precisely in the middle of the classroom, and when she used to ride the school bus, she sat precisely in the middle of that, too.
She joins clubs, but is never the president of them. Sometimes she is the secretary; usually, just a member. When asked, she has been known to paints sets for the school play.
She always has a date to the dance, but is never anyone's first choice. In point of fact, she's nobody's first choice for anything. Her best friend became her best friend when another girl moved away.
She has a group of girls she eats lunch with every day, but God, how they bore her. Sometimes, when she can't stand it anymore, she eats in the library instead. Truth be told, she prefers books to people, and the librarian always seems happy to see her.
She knows there are other people who have it worse - she isn't poor or ugly or friendless or teased. Of course, she's also aware that the reason no one teases is because no one ever notices her.
This isn't to say she doesn't have qualities.
She is pretty, maybe, if anyone would bother to look. And she gets good enough grades. And she doesn't drink and drive. And she says NO to drugs. And she is always where she says she will be. And she calls when she's going to be late. And she feels a little, just a little, dead inside.
She thinks, You think you know me, but you d ~ Gabrielle Zevin

I play it cool.
"Uh,yeah, I think so," I say, furioously kicking my feet in the air. "You?"
"Yeah,it should be pretty fun," he says.
"Yeah,it should be," I say.
Pause,pause,pause,heartbeat racing. I can't catch my breath.
"You know who you're going with?" he asks.
I'm sorry,but OH.MY.GOD.
"Nah," I say, pulling off nonchalance like a pro. "You know me; it's hard to choose when half the school is beating down my door."
He chuckles. "I don't doubt it."
Beat down my door, Wolf. Beat it down right now.I'll say yes! ~ Alecia Whitaker

There are so many places, particularly right now. Go and volunteer at a food bank. If you play the piano, go play the piano in an Alzheimer's home. Or read in an Alzheimer's home. Help a military family with babysitting. The opportunities are endless. People often think 'They want me?' or 'I can be of help?' What we try to say here is 'Be who you are.'Feel that, live it and pass it on. ~ Maria Shriver

If you have ever seen the play Peter Pan you will remember how the pirate chief was always making his dying speech because he was afraid that possibly when the time came for him to die he might not have time to get it off his chest. It is much the same with me, and so, although I am not at this moment dying, I shall be doing so one of these days and I want to send you a parting word of goodbye.

Remember, it is the last you will ever hear from me, so think it over.

I have had a most happy life and I want each one of you to have as happy a life too.

I believe that God put us in this jolly world to be happy and enjoy life. Happiness doesn't come from being rich, nor merely from being successful in your career, nor by self-indulgence. One step towards happiness is to make yourself healthy and strong while you are a boy, so that you can be useful and so can enjoy life when you are a man.

Nature study will show you how full of beautiful and wonderful things God has made the world for you to enjoy. Be contented with what you have got and make the best of it. Look on the bright side of things instead of the gloomy one.

But the real way to get happiness is by giving out happiness to other people. Try and leave this world a little better than you found it and when your turn come to die, you can die happy in feeling that at any rate you have not wasted your time but have done your best. "Be Prepared" in this way, to live happy and ~ Robert Baden-Powell

A THOUSAND WORDS

My stepfather Ralph Newman was a merry and remarkable man, a former minor league second baseman who broke his nose on a double play ball and wound up opening the Abraham Lincoln Bookshop in Chicago. He was also president of the Chicago Public Library.

Ralph used to huff about that phrase, A picture is worth a thousand words and ask, "Does anyone really stop to figure out what you could do with a thousand words?"

And, rather in the way that my daughters and I trade, try out, and create stories with each other, my stepfather and I spread out a napkin and came up with this:

One picture is worth a thousand words? You give me a thousand words and I can give you:
the Lord's Prayer, the Twenty-third Psalm,
the Hippocratic Oath, a sonnet by Shakespeare, the Preamble to the Constitution, Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, the last graphs of Martin Luther King's speech to the March on Washington, and the final entry of Anne Frank's diary.

You give me a thousand words, and I don't think I'd trade you for any picture on earth. ~ Scott Simon

Cribbage!" I declared, pulling out the board, a deck of cards, and pen and paper, "Ben and I are going to teach you. Then we can all play."
"What makes you think I don't know how to play cribbage?" Sage asked.
"You do?" Ben sounded surprised.
"I happen to be an excellent cribbage player," Sage said.
"Really…because I'm what one might call a cribbage master," Ben said.
"I bet I've been playing longer than you," Sage said, and I cast my eyes his way. Was he trying to tell u something?
"I highly doubt that," Ben said, "but I believe we'll see the proof when I double-skunk you."
"Clearly you're both forgetting it's a three-person game, and I'm ready to destroy you both," I said.
"Deal 'em," Ben said.
Being a horse person, my mother was absolutely convinced she could achieve world peace if she just got the right parties together on a long enough ride. I didn't know about that, but apparently cribbage might do the trick. I didn't know about that, but apparently cribbage might do the trick. The three of us were pretty evenly matched, and Ben was impressed enough to ask sage how he learned to play. Turned out Sage's parents were historians, he said, so they first taught him the precursor to cribbage, a game called noddy.
"Really?" Ben asked, his professional curiosity piqued. "Your parents were historians? Did they teach?"
"European history. In Europe," Sage said. "Small college. They taught me a lot."
Yep, there was the met ~ Hilary Duff

In terms of professionally what I want to do, I want to play 15-plus more years, get to the Hall of Fame, and win a lot of championships and all that. I'd love to be the owner of a team one day. But it's way bigger than that. For me, my vision is how can I affect somebody positively every day? When you focus on other people, somehow good things happen to you. I think that's my goal. That's my vision. ~ Russell Wilson

Dear Sawyer and Quin, If you ever read this and I'm gone I want you to know something that has been weighing on me. I watch you two play and it can be so sad sometimes. You two have been best friends since Sawyer's birth. Always inseparable. It's been adorable , but comes with its challenges. I'm worried when I watch you boys. Quinton, you are always driven by your ego. You're strong and talented, but much too determined to beat down everyone in your efforts to be the best. You push yourself to win a competition, then shove it in someone's face. I've rarely seen you compliment others, but you always give yourself a pat on the back. You don't play anything for the love of it, you play to win and normally do. I've seen you tear down your brother so many times just to feel good about yourself. You don't have to do that, dear. You don't have to spend your life trying to prove that you're amazing. One day you'll fail and be alone because you've climbed to the top of a pyramid with only enough room for yourself. Don't let it get to that point and if you do, learn humility from your brother. He could do without so much of it. Sawyer, just because you're most often the underdog and the peaceful introspective kid, don't think I'm letting you off the hook. Your humility has become your worst enemy. It's so intense that I wonder if it will be your vice one day, instead of your greatest virtue. It's one thing to believe you are below all men, even when you're not, but it's another thing ~ Marilyn Grey

To be a star and stay a star, I think you've got to have a certain air of arrogance about you, a cockiness, a swagger on the field that says, "I can do this and you can't stop me." I know that I play baseball with this air of arrogance, but I think it's lacking in a lot of guys who could have the potential to be stars. ~ Joe Morgan

No need to be embarassed. After seeing you in my cousin's nightgown, you've got nothing to hide. But why were you crying in the shower?" he murmured into her hair. She could feel his lips moving against her scalp, and feel the press of his hips through the covers, but his arms were an unyielding cage. She tried to turn over to face him, to welcome him under the covers with her, but he wouldn't let her.

"I was crying because I'm frustrated! Why are you doing this?" she whispered into her pillow.

"We can't, Helen," was all he said. He kissed her neck and said he was sorry over and over, but try as she might, he wouldn't let her face him. She began to feel like she was being used.

"Please be patient," he begged as he stopped her hand from reaching back to touch him. She tried to sit up, to push him out of her bed, anything but suffer lying next to someone who would play with her so terribly. They wrestled a bit, but he was much better at it than she was and felt even heavier than he looked. He easily blocked every attempt she made to wrap her arms or legs or lips around him.

"Do you want me at all, or do you just think it's fun to tease me like this?" she asked, feeling rejected and humiliated. "Won't you even kiss me?" She finally struggled onto her back where she could at least see his face.

"If I kiss you, I won't stop," he said in a desperate whisper as he propped himself up on his elbows to look her in the eye.

Josephine Angelini

But I hope to maintain my credibility after I stop playing. Because, yes of course, now I play and I score goals and children all over are mad about me. Not just poor children - all children. We can make them really happy by the way we play, though I have to say that it's the poor ones that I think of most, the ones who can't come and watch the games at the stadium. We mean so much to them. That's why I'm so committed to this work. Later, after you've stopped playing, it's harder to have the same impact. But I will give it a go. I want to continue doing this kind of work for ever. ~ Cristiano Ronaldo

A lot of guys in New York will only play with an edge. They find their groove and that's their groove. to me, once I do that, there's no point in playing anymore because it should always be a mystery. Depending on who you are playing with, there are hundreds of ways of playing. I think that a master can play all those different kinds of time. ~ Fred Hersch

One thing that I don't think I do is play characters. Once you start claiming that you can do something that you're not, you're crazy. I think scripts can really surprise you. You go, "Wow, I did not know that that response could come from me. I did not know that I had that in me." And so, the process of making the movie is just finding that and digging a little deeper. ~ Kristen Stewart

Honestly, being a 5'11 quarterback, not too many people think that you can play in the National Football League. And so for me, you know, I knew that my height doesn't define my skill set, you know? I believed in my talent. I believed in what God gave me. I believed in the knowledge that I have of the game. ~ Russell Wilson

You stand there all tan and glowing and wonder why I use Voice on you?" he bellowed. "Where the hell do you get off? You've been with V'lane again. How many slaps in the face do you think I'm going to take, Ms. Lane?" He grabbed my fist and held it when I tried to punch him again. I swung at him with the other. He caught that, too. "I warned you not to play us against each other."
"I'm not playing you! I'm trying to survive. And I don't slap you when I go off with V'lane!" I tried to yank my fists from his hands. "It doesn't have anything to do with you. I'm trying to get answers, and since you won't give me any, you can't blame me for going somewhere else."
"So, the man who doesn't get laid at home has the right to go off and cheat?"
"Huh?"
"Which word didn't you understand?" he sneered.
"You're the one who's crippled by illogic. This isn't home, it never will be, and nobody's getting laid!" I practically shouted.
"You think I don't know that?" He shifted his body beneath me, making me painfully aware of something. Two somethings, in fact, one of which was how far up my short skirt was. The other wasn't my problem. I wriggled, to shimmy my hem down, but his expression perished the thought. When Barrons looks at me like that, it rattles me. Lust, in those ancient, obsidian eyes, offers no trace of humanity. Doesn't even bother trying.
Savage Mac wants to invite it to come out and play. I think she's nuts. Nuts, I tell you.
"Let go of my ~ Karen Marie Moning

I used to think when I was younger and writing that each idea had a certain shape and when I started to study Greek and I found the word morphe it was for me just the right word for that, unlike the word shape in English which falls a bit short morphe in greek means the sort of plastic contours that an idea has inside your all your senses when you grasp it the first moment and it always seemed to me that a work should play out that same contour in its form. So I can't start writing something down til I get a sense of that, that morphe. And then it unfolds, I wouldn't say naturally, but it unfolds gropingly by keeping only to the contours of that form whatever it is. ~ Anne Carson

If it's a girl, I want to name her Grace."

"Okay, if it's a boy, I think we should name him Hamsel," I said, straight-faced.

"What?" Her tone was not nice.

"Yeah, I've always loved the name Hamsel, or we can name him Wilbur Jr. and just call him Junior for short." I finally had mercy when Mia's eyes were open as wide as they would go. "I'm kidding. What names do you like?"

"For a boy, hmm. I don't know; we'll have to think on it. I really like Birch or Branch, you know something earthy…maybe Webb." I laughed but she deadpanned, "What? I mean if you don't like those, I also really like Stream or Haze."

Oh my God, she's serious.

She tilted her head to the side, smiled, and cackled like a witch. "Ha, ha, Will. Two can play this game."

"Thank God, I thought you were serious. Shit."

She socked me in the chest ~ Renee Carlino

Dear Mother,
. . . We have been putting in our time here at very hard drilling, and are supposed to have learned in six weeks what the ordinary recruit, in times of peace, takes all his two years at. We rise at 5, and work stops in the afternoon at 5. A twelve hours day at one sou a day. I hope to earn higher wages than this in time to come, but I never expect to work harder. The early rising hour is splendid for it gives one the chance to see the most beautiful part of these beautiful autumn days in the South. We march up to a lovely open field on the end of the ridge behind the barracks, walking right into the rising sun. From this panorama, spread about on three sides is incomparably fine - yellow cornfields, vineyards, harvest-fields where the workers and their teams can be seen moving about in tiny figures - poplars, little hamlets and church-towers, and far away to the south the blue line of the Pyrenees, the high peaks capped with snow. It makes one in love with life, it is all so peaceful and beautiful. But Nature to me is not only hills and blue skies and flowers, but the Universe, the totality of things, reality as it most obviously presents itself to us; and in this universe strife and sternness play as big a part as love and tenderness, and cannot be shirked by one whose will it is to rule his life in accordance with the cosmic forces he sees in play about him. I hope you see the thing as I do, and think that I have done well, being without responsibilities a ~ Alan Seeger

Memory is strange. Scientifically, it is not a mechanical means of repeating something. I can think a thousand times about when I broke my leg at the age of ten, but it is never the same thing which comes to mind when I think about it. My memory of this event has never been, in reality, anything except the memory of my last memory of that event. This is why I use the image of a palimpsest - something written over something partially erased - that is what memory is for me. It's not a film you play back in exactly the same way. It's like theater, with characters who appear from time to time. ~ Gore Vidal

The thing is this: When I play, what I try to do is to reach my subconscious level. I don't want to overtly think about anything, because you can't think and play at the same time - believe me, I've tried it (laughs). ~ Sonny Rollins

All I can think about is how fucked up it would be for your life to end here, now. I mean I know that your life if fucked up no matter what now, forever. And I'm not dumb enough to think that I can undo that, that anyone can. But I can't wrap my mind around the notion of you not getting old, having kids, going to Juilliard, getting to play that cello in front of a huge audience, so that they can get the chills the way I do every time I see you pick up your bow, every time I see you smile at me. ~ Gayle Forman

Because I am an officer and a gentleman they have given me my notebooks, pen, ink and paper. So I write and wait. I am committed to no cause, I love no living person. The fact that I have no future except what you can count in hours doesn't seem to disturb me unduly. After all, the future whether here or there is equally unknown. So for the waiting days I have only the past to play about with. I can juggle with a series of possibly inaccurate memories, my own interpretation, for what is worth, of events. There is no place for speculation or hope, or even dreams. Strangely enough I think I like it like that. ~ Jennifer Johnston

I read, I think, I play, I work. And all that thinkingand playing and reading comes into my art. I couldn't really sithere and delineate for you what the thought process is. I can perhapssay that literature, psychoanalysis and theater have been very valuableexperiences that have informed and nourished me along the way. ~ Harvey Keitel

I plunked down on the couch beside him.

"I don't have any accomplishments of any kind. I'm stupid and boring. I don't have any hobbies. I don't play sports. I don't write poetry. I don't travel to interesting places. I don't even have a good job."

"That doesn't make you stupid and boring," Morelli said.

"Well, I feel stupid and boring. And I wanted to feel interesting. And somehow, someone told my mother and grandmother that I played the cello. I guess it was me...only it was like some foreign entity took possession of my body. I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but I'm sure they originated in some other brain. And it was so simple at first. One small mention. And then it took on a life of it's own. And next thing, everyone knew."

"And you can't play the cello."

"I'm not even sure this is a cello."

Morelli went back to smiling. "And you think you're boring? No way, Cupcake."

"What about the stupid part?"

Morelli threw his arm around me. "Sometimes that's a tough call. ~ Janet Evanovich

Are you all right?" A crease appears between his eyebrows, and he touches my cheek gently.I bat his hand away.
"Well," I say, "first I got reamed out in front of everyone,and then I had to chat with the woman who's trying to destroy my old faction,and then Eric almost tossed my friends out of Dauntless,so yeah,it's shaping up to be a pretty great day,Four."
He shakes his head and looks at the dilapidated building to his right, which is made of brick and barely resembles the sleek glass spire behind me. It must be ancient.No one builds with brick anymore.
"Why do you care,anyway?" I say. "You can be either cruel instructor or concerned boyfriend." I tense up at the word "boyfriend." I didn't mean to use it so flippantly,but it's too late now. "You can't play both parts at the same time."
"I am not cruel." He scowls at me. "I was protecting you this morning. How do you think Peter and his idiot friends would have reacted if they discovered that you and I were..." He sighs. "You would never win. They would always call your ranking a result of my favoritism rather than your skill."
I open my mouth to object,but I can't. A few smart remarks come to mind, but I dismiss them. He's right. My cheeks warm, and I cool them with my hands.
"You didn't have to insult me to prove something to them," I say finally.
"And you didn't have to run off to your brother just because I hurt you," he says. He rubs at the back of his neck. "Besides-it worked,didn't it ~ Veronica Roth

Would we get on well together, do you think?" she asked dubiously, daring to play with the knot of his necktie, loosening the gray watered-silk fabric with her fingertips. "We're opposites in nearly every regard."
Inclining his head, Marcus nuzzled the tender inside of her wrist, his lips brushing the blue-tinted veins that lay like fine lacework beneath the skin. "I am coming to believe that taking a wife who is exactly like myself would be the worst conceivable decision I could make."
"Perhaps you're right," Lillian mused, letting her fingertips curl into the gleaming close-cut hair at the side of his head. "You need a wife who won't let you have your way all the time. One who…" She paused with a little shiver as his tongue touched a delicate spot near her inner elbow. "Who," she continued, struggling to gather her thoughts, "would be willing to take you down a notch when you become too pompous…"
"I am never pompous," Marcus said, drawing the edge of her gown away from the vulnerable curve of her throat.
Her breath hitched as he began to kiss the wing of her collarbone. "What would you call it when you carry on as if you always know best, and anyone who disagrees with you is an idiot?"
"Most of the time, the people who disagree with me do happen to be idiots. I can't help that. ~ Lisa Kleypas

At the Ball

I chanced to see you. Music played,
Vain chatter filled the place.
It seemed as though a veil were laid
Across your secret face.

Your eyes alone were sad; your way
Of speaking ravished me,
As though I heard a far pipe play,
And on the shores the sea.

How welcome was your look of thought,
Your figure tall and slight;
And that clear laugh with sadness fraught
Is in my heart to-night.

And when the noise of day is stilled
Once more they come to me,
Those eyes with so much sadness filled,
That voice, with gaiety.

Down to the depths of sleep I go,
Where dreams uncaptured move.
But do I love you? Who can know?
Yet this, I think, is love. ~ Alexei Tolstoy

I'm really not any good at this whole dating thing, and I don't even know if this is a date, but I know that whatever it is, it's a little more than just two friends hanging out, and knowing that makes me think about later tonight when it's time for you to leave and whether or not you plan to kiss me and I'm the type of person who hates surprises so I can't stop feeling awkward about it because I do want you to kiss me and this may be presumptuous of me, but I sort of think you want to kiss me, too, and so I was thinking how much easier it would be if we just went ahead and kissed already so you can go back to cooking dinner and I can stop trying to mentally map out how our night's about to play out. ~ Colleen Hoover

When Rosencrantz asks Hamlet, "Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your grief to your friends"(III, ii, 844-846), Hamlet responds, "Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me." (III,ii, 371-380) ~ William Shakespeare

Well, I can't help going to see Sibyl play, even if it is only for an act. I get hungry for her presence; and when I think of the wonderful soul that is hidden away in that little ivory body, I am filled with awe."
"You can dine with me to-night, Dorian, can't you?"
He shook his head. "To night she is Imogen," he answered, "and tomorrow night she will be Juliet."
"When is she Sibyl Vane?"
"Never."
"I congratulate you. ~ Oscar Wilde

I elbowed James as he shot my army guy in the head yet again.
"This game is so sexist," I complained. "I can't believe that there isn't even an option for me to play as a girl."
"Do you think that if you were playing as a busty blonde it would distract me?" James asked, amused.
"It couldn't hurt."
He tossed his controller on the ground. I gave a little embarrassing shriek as he tossed me over his shoulder. "We're done, guys. Buttercup wants to distract me. Consider me distracted. ~ R.K. Lilley

[Calvin, who has the chicken pox, calls Susie on the telephone.]
Susie: Hello?
Calvin: Hi, Susie! It's me, Calvin! I was wondering if you'd like to come over and play.
Susie: Why, sure! Boy, I don't think you've ever invited me to ...
Calvin's Mom: Calvin, what are you doing?
Calvin: Nothing, Mom. Go away.
Calvin's Mom: You're contagious! You can't have anyone over to play!
Calvin: Shhhh! Shhhh! You'll spoil the whole thing! I was going to trick Susie into catching ... HEY! OW! LET GO!
Susie: [Hanging up the phone] Any chance of getting transferred, Dad? ~ Bill Watterson

I am merciful,' exclaimed Glokta, waving his hand airily, as the ambassador himself had done but a few short minutes before, 'but my mercy has limits. Speak.'

'I am here under a flag of parley, on a mission from the Emperor himself! To harm an unarmed emissary would be expressly against the rules of war!'

'Parley? Rules of war?' Glokta chuckled. Severard chuckled. Vitari chuckled. Frost was silent. 'Do they even have those any more? Save that rubbish for children like Vissbruck, that's not the way grown-ups play the game. Who is the traitor?'

'I pity you, cripple! When the city falls - '

Save your pity. You'll need it for yourself. Frost's fist scarcely made any sound as it sank into the ambassador's stomach. His eyes bulged out, his mouth hung open, he coughed a dry cough, somewhere close to vomiting, tried to breathe and coughed again.

'Strange, isn't it,' mused Glokta as he watched him struggle for air. 'Big men, small men, thin men, fat men, clever men, stupid men, they all respond the same to a fist in the guts. One minute you think you're the most powerful man in the world. The next you can't even breathe by yourself. Some kinds of power are nothing but tricks of the mind. Your people taught me that. ~ Joe Abercrombie

Soon, droves of children start to show up, keeping us rather busy. We start tallying up the number of Trolls, Batmans, Lego men, and princesses we see. The most popular costume? Batman and Superwoman with the fabrics and accessories varying from child to child. But my favorite so far is the girl who dressed as Little Debbie, but then again, I may be biased.

"I think she might be my new favorite," Emma says as a little girl dressed as a nurse walks away.

"That's because you're a nurse, but you can't play favorites," I say, reminding Emma of the rules.

She levels with me. "This coming from the guy whose favorite child was dressed as Little Debbie."

"Come on." I lean back in my chair and motion to my head. "She had the rim of blue on her hat. That's attention to detail."

"And good fucking parenting," Tucker chimes in, and we clink our beer bottles together.

Amelia chuckles next to me as Emma shakes her head. "Ridiculous. What about you, Amelia? What costume has been your favorite so far?"

"Hmm, it's been a tough competition. There has been some real winning costumes and some absolute piss-poor ones." She shakes her head. "Just because you put a scarf around your neck and call yourself Jack Frost doesn't mean you dressed up."

"Ugh, that costume was dumb."

"It shouldn't be referred to as a costume, but that's beside the point." I like how much Amelia is getting into this little prete ~ Meghan Quinn

You just hung up on my boss," I said.
"He was talking in circles. He'll get over it."
"You know what your problem is? 'You' as in Primes, in general?"
"I think you're about to tell me." Mad Rogan leaned forward with rapt attention.
"Your problem is that nobody ever tells you no. You think you can do whatever you want, enter wherever you want . . ."
"Seduce whoever we want." He grinned, a wicked, wolfish smile.
Oh no, we are not veering off the highway onto that road. "You play with people's lives. When cops show up, you wave your hand and make them go away. Because you are Primes and the rest of us are, apparently, nothing."
"Mhm," he said. "The irony of this is so rich, it's simply delicious."
"I don't see what's so ironic about it."
"I'd tell you, but it would ruin the fun."
"Could you be more smug?"
He leaned on his elbow. "Possibly. I see you liked the flowers."
I got a sudden urge to set the carnations on fire. "They are gorgeous. It's not their fault you brought them. ~ Ilona Andrews