Your Not Worth My Love Quotes

I think,' said the little Queen, smiling, 'that your friend must be the richest man in all the world.' 'I am,' returned the Scarecrow; 'but not on account of my money. For I consider brains to be far superior to money, in every way. You may have noticed that if one has money without brains, he cannot use it to advantage; but if one has brains without money, they will enable him to live comfortably to the end of days.' 'At the same time,' declared the Tin Woodman, 'you must acknowledge that a good heart is a thing that brains cannot create, and that money cannot buy. Perhaps, after all it is I who am the richest man in all the world.' 'You are both rich, my friends,' said Ozma gently; 'and your riches are the only riches worth having - the riches of content!' - The Marvellous Land Of Oz by L. Frank Baum pg 192 chapter 24 ~ L. Frank Baum

It's a Buddhist meditation that Teza uses to calm his mind, to put aside not just the physical pain but the sadness and rage he's feeling: He starts to whisper a prayer. "Whatever beings there are, may they be free from suffering. Whatever beings there are, may they be free from enmity. Whatever beings there are, may they be free from hurtfulness. Whatever beings there are, may they be free from ill health. Whatever beings there are, may they be able to protect their own happiness." "I particularly like that last phrase," Mom said. "About protecting your own happiness." "But how can you protect your own happiness when you can't control the beatings?" I asked. "That's the point, Will. You can't control the beatings. But maybe you can have some control over your happiness. As long as he can, well then, he still has something worth living for. And when he's no longer able, he knows he's done all he can." In my mind, I replaced the word beatings with cancer. ~ Will Schwalbe

I forgive you. But just because I forgive you doesn't mean I want to continue to be your friend. It doesn't even mean I respect you as a man because you are not. You are a miserably scared little boy who can't tell when to let go and when to hold on. You will never be worth my time nor my friendship. ~ Rebecca David

Let me tell you the truth: You are enough. You are more than enough. God made you, and God does not make junk. "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." (Ps. 139:13) You are not just a body; you are a body and a soul. You have an inmost being that does not come from your parents, from the physical DNA that they gave you, but from God Almighty who breathed life specially and intentionally into your very self. Not only did God create you, He continues to care for you and watch over you. "Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid." (Luke 12:7) ~ Leah Darrow

Mr. Edwards admired the well-built, pleasant house and heartily enjoyed the good dinner. But he said he was going on West with the train when it pulled out. Pa could not persuade him to stay longer.
"I'm aiming to go far West in the spring," he said. "This here, country, it's too settled up for me. The politicians are a-swarming in already, and ma'am if'n there's any worse pest than grasshoppers it surely is politicians. Why, they'll tax the lining out'n a man's pockets to keep up these here county-seat towns..."
"Feller come along and taxed me last summer. Told me I got to put in every last thing I had. So I put in Tom and Jerry, my horses, at fifty dollars apiece, and my oxen yoke, Buck and Bright, I put in at fifty, and my cow at thirty five.
'Is that all you got?' he says. Well I told him I'd put in five children I reckoned was worth a dollar apiece.
'Is that all?' he says. 'How about your wife?' he says.
'By Mighty!' I says to him. 'She says I don't own her and I don't aim to pay no taxes on her,' I says. And I didn't. ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

I knew someday you would realize your worth. Your worthiness.'
I shake my head. 'Oh Ximena, he was right to choose me but not becuase of my worth ... You, Cosme, Hector ... were already willing to be heroes. But I would have done nothing, become nothing, were it not for this thing inside me. So you see, God picked me becuase I was unworthy. ~ Rae Carson

You said to me, I didn't take the risk in giving myself to you that meant I was saying you weren't worth the risk. And that holds true the other way around. What happened sucked, Hawk, beyond sucked. I'm pissed at you and my heart still bleeds for your loss. But even so, you're standing right there saying I'm not worth the risk. ~ Kristen Ashley

If I beat my grandmother to death to-morrow in the middle of Battersea Park, you may be perfectly certain that people will say everything about it except the simple and fairly obvious fact that it is wrong. Some will call it insane; that is, will accuse it of a deficiency of intelligence. This is not necessarily true at all. You could not tell whether the act was unintelligent or not unless you knew my grandmother. Some will call it vulgar, disgusting, and the rest of it; that is, they will accuse it of a lack of manners. Perhaps it does show a lack of manners; but this is scarcely its most serious disadvantage. Others will talk about the loathsome spectacle and the revolting scene; that is, they will accuse it of a deficiency of art, or aesthetic beauty. This again depends on the circumstances: in order to be quite certain that the appearance of the old lady has definitely deteriorated under the process of being beaten to death, it is necessary for the philosophical critic to be quite certain how ugly she was before. Another school of thinkers will say that the action is lacking in efficiency: that it is an uneconomic waste of a good grandmother. But that could only depend on the value, which is again an individual matter. The only real point that is worth mentioning is that the action is wicked, because your grandmother has a right not to be beaten to death. But of this simple moral explanation modern journalism has, as I say, a standing fear. It will call the action anythi ~ G.K. Chesterton

At times I can certainly see a subject clearly and distinctly, think my way through it, great sweeping thoughts that I can scarcely grasp but which all at once give me an intense feeling of importance. Yet when I try to write them down they shrivel into nothing, and that's why I lack the courage to commit them to paper - in case I become too disillusioned with the fatuous little as they that emerges. But let me impress just one thing upon you, sister. Wash your hands of all attempts to embody those great, sweeping thoughts. The smallest, most fatuous little essay is worth more than the flood of grandiose ideas in which you like to wallow. Of course you must hold on to your forebodings and your intuitions. They are the sources upon which you draw, but be careful not to drown in them. Just organise things a little, exercise some mental hygiene. Your imagination and your emotions are like a vast ocean from which you wrest small pieces of land that may well be flooded again. The ocean is wide and elemental, but what matter are the small pieces of land you reclaim from it. The subject right before you is more important than those prodigious thoughts of Tolstoy and Napoleon that occurred to you in the middle of last night, and the lesson you gave that keen young girl and Friday night is more important than all your vague philosophizing. Never forget that. Don't overestimate your own intensity; it may give you the impression that you were cut out for greater things than the so-calle ~ Etty Hillesum

Stories have changed, my dear boy," the man in the grey suit says, his voice almost imperceptibly sad. "There are no more battles between good and evil, no monsters to slay, no maidens in need of rescue. Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case. There are no longer simple tales with quests and beasts and happy endings. The quests lack clarity of goal or path. The beasts take different forms and are difficult to recognize for what they are. And there are never really endings, happy or otherwise. Things keep overlapping and blur, your story is part of your sister's story is part of many other stories, and there in no telling where any of them may lead. Good and evil are a great deal more complex than a princess and a dragon, or a wolf and a scarlet-clad little girl. And is not the dragon the hero of his own story? Is not the wolf simply acting as a wolf should act? Though perhaps it is a singular wolf who goes to such lengths as to dress as a grandmother to toy with its prey. ~ Erin Morgenstern

The insidious reasons for a brown girl's self-loathing won't be surprising to any woman of color. I cannot rightly compare my own struggles to those of another minority, as each ethnicity comes with its own baggage and the South Asian experience is just one variation on the experience of dark-skinned people everywhere. As parents and grandparents often do in Asian countries, my extended family urged me to avoid the sun, not out of fear that heatstroke would sicken me or that UV rays would lead to cancer, but more, I think, out of fear that my skin would darken to the shade of an Untouchable, a person from the lowest caste in Indian society, someone who toils in the fields. The judgments implicit in these exhortations - and what they mean about your worth - might not dawn on you while you're playing cricket in the sand. What's at stake might not dawn on you while, as a girl, you clutch fast to yourself your blonde-haired, blue-eyed doll named Helen. But all along, the message that lighter skin is equivalent to a more attractive, worthier self is getting beamed deep into your subconscious. Western ideals of beauty do not stop at ocean shores. They pervade the world and mingle with those of your own country to create mutant, unachievable standards. ~ Padma Lakshmi

Ms.Mutou-
I was told to write a last will, but…
But even if I had possessions that were worth passing on, I have no family to give them to,
So I wrote a letter to you, like always..
I never could have imagined how shocked I'd been…
When I first saw you at the prison.
The truth is, I'd been looking for you.
On that day that my brother died and I was left alone,
Even you disappeared from the television screens…
I looked for you…
I looked and looked…
But I couldn't find you…
I'd forgotten about it…
So when I saw you here at the prison…
I thought that perhaps…
God truly did exist…
Thanks to the Thursday that I spent with you,
I knew for the first time how it felt to be happy.
It was something I couldn't obtain living by myself…
It felt like I understood why people live their lives mingling with others…
I won't put a brave front…
And tell you to forget about me, and live your life without letting your past hold you back…
I want you to remember me.
Just you-…
That there was a little person like me…
You told me once that even though there was someone you hated enough to want to kill, you were afraid to do it and stopped.
I don't think that you stopped because you were afraid, but rather that you were brave.
If I had also done so…
Perhaps I could have said to you the word that I could never say…
Words…
That I haven't said once…
Not ~ Mizu Sahara

My child, I am the Lord Who gives strength in the day of trouble. Come to Me when all is not well with you. Your tardiness in turning to prayer is the greatest obstacle to heavenly consolation, for before you pray earnestly to Me you first seek many comforts and take pleasure in outward things. Thus, all things are of little profit to you until you realize that I am the one Who saves those who trust in Me, and that outside of Me there is no worth-while help, or any useful counsel or lasting remedy. ~ Thomas A Kempis

And who the hell was that twiggy bitch?" As soon as it's out of my mouth I regret it. All my life I've had a body worth commenting on and if living in my skin has taught me anything it's that if it's not your body, it's not yours to comment on. Fat. Skinny. Short. Tall. It doesn't matter. But ~ Julie Murphy

Oh God, I'm a cliché," he said in despair. "Why do I care? If Dad decides he hates me because I'm not straight, he's not worth the pain, right?"
"Don't look at me," said Jace. "My adoptive father was a mass murderer. And I still worried about what he thought. It's what we're programmed to do. Your dad always seemed pretty great by comparison.
"Sure, he likes you," said Alec. "You're heterosexual and have low expectations of father figures. ~ Cassandra Clare

But there's also the fact that in my experience most of my readers are first and foremost plain old-fashioned readers. Good readers. They're not looking for cozy brand-name output and that means I don't have to give it to 'em. They're not lazy and have little patience with pre-fab beach-bag books or Oprah's opine du jour. They're questers.
They know that every now and then you're gonna get lucky and pure gold like King and Straub's Black House will simply drop into your lap at the local supermarket but after that, if your bent is horror and suspense fiction, you're gonna have to get your hands dirty and root around for more. Find a Ramsey Campbell or an Edward Lee. They expect diversity and search it out. They want what all good readers want - to be taken somewhere in a book or a story that's really worth visiting for a while. Maybe even worth thinking about after.
If that place happens to scare the hell out of you all the better. ~ Jack Ketchum

Wallingford vaulted up from his chair. "You've come here so that I can mollify you and share in your belittling of Anais? Well, you've knocked on the wrong bloody door, Raeburn, because I will not join you in disparaging Anais. I will not! Not when I know what sort of woman she is - she is better than either of us deserves. Damn you, I know what she means to you. I know how you've suffered. You want her and you're going to let a mistake ruin what you told me only months ago you would die for. Ask yourself if it is worth it. Is your pride worth all the pain you will make your heart suffer through? Christ," Wallingford growled, "if I had a woman who was willing to overlook everything I'd done in my life,
every wrong deed I had done to her or others, I would be choking back my pride so damn fast I wouldn't even taste it."
Lindsay glared at Wallingford, galled by the fact his friend - the one person on earth he believed would understand his feelings - kept chastising him for his anger, which, he believed, was natural and just.
"If I had someone like Anais in my life," Wallingford continued, blithely ignoring Lindsay's glares, "I would ride back to Bewdley with my tail between my legs and I would do whatever I had to do in order to get her back."
"You're a goddamned liar! You've never been anything but a selfish prick!" Lindsay thundered. "What woman would you deign to lower yourself in front of? What woman could you imagine doing anything more to than fucking ~ Charlotte Featherstone

Now don't run away." "I'm not. I learned to see beyond the soles of these shoes. I learned that behind this wretched life we lead there is a great ideal, a great hope. I learned that each individual life should be guided by that hope and by that ideal. And people who don't feel that must have died before they were born." He smiled and added, "Those aren't my words. It's something I heard someone else say years ago." "In your view ,then, I belong to the group who died before they were born?" "No, you belong to another group, the ones who haven't yet been born." "Aren't you forgetting about all my experience of life?" "Not at all, but experience is only worth anything when it's useful to other people, and you're not useful to anyone. ~ Jose Saramago

I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's worth, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TV's while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be. We know things are bad - worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, 'Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone.' Well, I'm not gonna leave you alone. I want you to get mad! I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot - I don't want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street. All I know is that first you've got to get mad. You've got to say, 'I'm a HUMAN BEING, God damn it! My life has VALUE!' So I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up ~ Paddy Chayefsky

Everything is filled to the brim," he repeated, "and everything is equal. I'm not like your friend who just grew old. When I tell you that nothing matters I don't mean it the way he does. For him, his struggle was not worth his while, because he was defeated; for me there is no victory, or defeat, or emptiness. Everything is filled to the brim and everything is equal and my struggle was worth my while. ~ Carlos Castaneda

I was picking flowers. (Nora)
And you think that handful of weeds was worth risking your life and wellbeing? (Ewan)
My mother has oft told me that men have sacrificed their lives and kingdoms for a woman's smile, so why not risk the ire of a bear for a bouquet? (Nora) ~ Kinley MacGregor

< It's a lot to think about.>
"It is."
< Scared.>
He nodded, eyes warming the tiniest bit.
< A lot could go wrong.>
"A lot could go wrong. Some pain. And, I suppose, a giving up of hope. But your voice won't get any worse than it is right now. It may well be worth the risk."
I nodded, my eyes in my lap.
"I feel as though I'm pressuring you. You're probably smart to get past this first surgery before we make plans. I do want you to know - " He stopped, long enough that I eventually looked up to see what was wrong. He was staring at me, staring into me, in a way that made me feel a little exposed. It wasn't an unkind stare, but it was sure as hell thorough. He cleared his throat. "Doctor-patient relationships aren't always easy, Mr. Paine. Harrison. And ours has been more fraught than most, due to...well. Due to things that had nothing to do with your actual care. I want to clear the air. I am your doctor. I care about your wellbeing. For what it's worth, I empathize with the sense of loss you're going through, and how hard that can shift the ground under you. You've been a fighter, Harrison, and I admire that. I will take care of you as long as you need me to, okay?"
Well, fuck. Now I was crying in front of this guy. I'd turned into a real weeper since getting my throat knocked out of me.
Ren was chill enough not to say anything. He just stood, then rested his hand on my shoulder, letting it sit there for ~ Peter Styles

any movement which is worth while, any action which has any deep significance, must begin with each one of us. I must change first; I must see what is the nature and structure of my relationship with the world - and in the very seeing is the doing; therefore I, as a human being living in the world, bring about a different quality, and that quality, it seems to me, is the quality of the religious mind.

The religious mind is something entirely different from the mind that believes in religion...A religious mind does not seek at all, it cannot experiment with truth. Truth is not something dictated by your pleasure or pain, or by your conditioning as a Hindu or whatever religion you belong to. The religious mind is a state of mind in which there is no fear and therefore no belief whatsoever but only what is - what actually is. ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

Look, people need to conform the external reality they face daily with this subjective feeling they likewise experience constantly. To do this they have two options. First, they can achieve what passes for great things. Now the external reality matches their feeling; they really are better than the rest and maybe they'll even be remembered as such. These are the ambitious people, the overachievers. These are also, however, the people who go on these abominable talk shows where they can trade their psychoses for exposure on that box, modernity's ultimate achievement. Not that this tact, being ambitious, is not the preferred course of action. The reason is it's the equivalent of sticking your neck out which we all know is dangerous. Instead many act like they have no ambition whatsoever. Their necks come back in and they're safe. Only problem is now they're at everyone else's level, which we've seen is untenable. The remedy of course is that everyone else needs to be sunk. This helps explain racism's enduring popularity. If I myself don't appear to be markedly superior to everyone else at least I'm part of the better race, country, religion et cetera. This in turn reflects well on my individual worth. There are other options, of course. For example, you can constantly bemoan others' lack of moral worth by extension elevating yourself. Think of the average person's reaction to our clients. Do these people strike you as so truly righteous that they are viscerally pained by our cl ~ Sergio De La Pava

And to all the young people in particular, I hope you will hear this. I have, as Tim said, spent my entire adult life fighting for what I believe in. I've had successes and I've had setbacks. Sometimes, really painful ones. Many of you are at the beginning of your professional public and political careers. You will have successes and setbacks, too. This loss hurts, but please never stop believing that fighting for what's right is worth it. It is. It is worth it. And so we need, we need you to keep up these fights now and for the rest of your lives. And to all the women, and especially the young women, who put their faith in this campaign and in me, I want you to know that nothing has made me prouder than to be your champion. Now, I, I know, I know we have still not shattered that highest and hardest glass ceiling, but someday, someone will, and hopefully sooner than we might think right now. And, and to all the little girls who are watching this, never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and achieve your own dreams. ~ Hillary Rodham Clinton

I fear no more I fear no more about you- I am gone you cannot touch me- the fragile threads that bridged our worlds together have been washed away by tears and laughter. you can't make me cry- your words bounce thoughtlessly off my shell back at you- don't you wish you could have me? I'm worth a lot, but not to you. ~ Michelle Mosteller

It had been communicated to me through the odd, secret whispers of women that a female's nose must never shine. In war, in famine, in fire, it had to be matte, and no one got a lipstick without the requisite face powder. … I was taunted by the problem: how could someone write something like the 'Symposium' and make sure her nose did not shine at the same time? It didn't matter to me that I was reading a translation. I'd read Plato's brilliant, dense prose and not be able to tear myself away. Even as a reader my nose shined. It was clearly either/or. You had to concentrate on either one or the other. In a New York minute, the oil from Saudi Arabia could infiltrate your house and end up on your nose. It didn't hurt, it didn't make noise, it didn't incapacitate in any way except for the fact that no girl worth her salt took enough time away from vigilance to read a book let alone write one. ~ Andrea Dworkin

Underline in your books, jot notes in the margins, and turn the corners of your pages down. Public education is a beautiful dream, but public classrooms too often train students not to mark, write in, disfigure, or in any way make books permanently their own. You're a grownup now, so buy your own books if you possibly can. In my opinion, a cheap paperback filled with your own notes is worth five times as much as a beautiful collector's edition. ~ Susan Wise Bauer

It is easy to be calm when there is nothing to worry about, Eragon. The true test of your self-control, however, is whether you can remain calm in a trying situation. You cannot allow anger or frustration to cloud your thoughts, not at the moment. Right now, you need your mind to be clear.
Have you always been able to remain calm at times like this?
The old dragon seemed to chuckle. No. I used to growl and bite and knock down trees and tear up the ground. Once, I broke the top off of a mountain in the Spine; the other dragons were rather upset with me for that. But I have had many years to learn that losing my temper rarely helps. You have not, I know, but allow my experience to guide you in this. Let go of your worries and focus on the task at hand. The future will be what is will, and fretting about it will only make your fears more likely to come true.
I know, Eragon sighed, but it's not easy.
Of course not. Few things of worth are. Then Glaedr withdrew and left him to the silence of his own mind. ~ Christopher Paolini

The prints shop manager, a balding man of about thirty years old, dressed in a plaid work shirt and faded jeans, looked very shocked when he saw the headline text. "Sydney Tar Ponds, Is It As Dangerous As People Say? Well," he exclaimed, glancing at the front photo, which featured the Sydney Steel Corporation, along with its plumes of orange smog. "You know, most people your age are really against that mill, as if it's a disease. We have university students protesting every few weeks or so… strangely enough, the ones who have parents who rely on that steel mill to pay the bills."

"What about the pollution?" Wendy questioned, almost accusingly, as if it was his fault. "What if dangerous chemicals are in the environment?"

"Hey kid, I don't even work at the mill, never have, but my father, my uncle, their father, cousins, all worked there," the prints shop man argued, placing the newspapers in a cardboard box and taping it shut. "When it comes down to all that 'go green' crap, you have to ask yourself, is it worth risking a person's income, their job, their family… their life? I'm not saying you're wrong, but these newspapers might have a point. ~ Rebecca McNutt

I was just offered a contract on your life, for enough money to make it worth my while." It was my turn to be quiet.
Did you take it?"
Would I be calling you if I had?"
Maybe," I said. He laughed.
True, but I'm not going to take it."
Why not?"
Friendship."
Try again," I said.
I figure I'll get to kill more people guarding you. If I take the contract, I only get to kill you."
Comforting ... ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

I thought I had paid for everything. Not like the woman pays and pays and pays. No idea of retribution or punishment. Just exchange of values. You gave up something and got something else. Or you worked for something. You paid some way for everything that was any good. I paid my way into enough things that I liked, so that I had a good time. Either you paid by learning about them, or by experience, or by taking chances, or by money. Enjoying living was learning to get your money's worth and knowing when you had it. You could get your money's worth. The world was a good place to buy in. It seemed like a fine philosophy. In five years, I thought, it will seem just as silly as all the other fine philosophies I've had. ~ Anonymous

HOW SHOULD THE SOUL not take wings
when from the Glory of God

It hears a sweet, kindly call:
"Why are you here, soul? Arise!"

How should a fish not leap fast
into the sea from dry land

When from the ocean so cool
the sound of the waves reaches its

How should the falcon not fly
back to his king from the hunt

When from the falconer's drum
it hears to call: "Oh, come back"?

Why should not every Sufi
begin to dance atom-like

Around the Sun of duration
that saves from impermanence?

What graciousness and what beauty?
What life-bestowing! What grace!

If anyone does without that, woe-
what err, what suffering!

Oh fly , of fly, O my soul-bird,
fly to your primordial home!

You have escaped from the cage now-
your wings are spread in the air.

Oh travel from brackish water
now to the fountain of life!

Return from the place of the sandals
now to the high seat of souls!

Go on! Go on! we are going,
and we are coming, O soul,

From this world of separation
to union, a world beyond worlds!

How long shall we here in the dust-world
like children fill our skirts

With earth and with stones without value,
with broken shards without worth?


Let's take our hand from the dust gr ~ Rumi

I freely admit that the best of my fun, I owe it to Horse and Hound - Whyte Melville (1821-1878)


"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of ~ Whyte Melville

But instead of taking the cue to leave, Patch crossed to Scott in three steps. He flung him around to face the wall. Scott tried to get his bearings, but Patch slammed him against the wall again, disorienting him further. "Touch her," he said in Scott's ear, his voice low and threatening, "and it'll be the biggest regret of your life."
Before leaving, Patch flicked his eyes once in my direction. "He's not worth it." He paused. "And neither am I. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

And all the while I have people telling me, at least you still have something of your husband. Do they mean the book chronicling our work in Vystrana? No, of course not - never mind that we undertook that work together, with intent. That cannot possibly be as valuable as the accidental consequence of biology."

Very quietly, Tom said, "Is not a child worth more than a book?"

"Yes," I said violently. "But then for God's sake let us value my son for himself, and not as some relic of his father. When he is grown enough to read, I will be delighted to share his father's legacy with him; it is my legacy as well, and I hope he has inherited our curiosity enough to appreciate it. I would not mind a motherhood where that was my purpose - to foster my son's mind and teach him the intellectual values of his parents. But no; society tells me my role is to change his napkins and coo over the faces he makes, and in so doing abandon the things I want him to treasure when he is grown. ~ Marie Brennan

Yeah," he grount out. "I nailed her."
"Where?" Luc always wanted the dirty details.
"Stockroom. Pay up."
Luc snorted and reached for his wallet. "I really got taken on this one , didn't I?" He handed over four hundreds and five twenties.
"Yeah, well, you can have the last laugh once the Sem brothers catch up with me. Seems she's their sister."
"Dude." Luc streched out the word and then whistled, low and long. "Nice knowing you. So, will it at least have been worth it? Being gutted by Shade, I mean. Was she good ?"
His body heated as though remembering. And wanting again.
"Of course I was."
Fuck. Con spun around to find Sin standing there, hands on hips and fury in her expression. Like a kid caught stealing candy, he whipped the money behind his back. She looked at him as if he was an idiot and grabbed his arm, briging it around.
"It's not what you think," he said lamely, because it was exactly what she thought.
"Really? So that big asshole behind you didn't bet you five hundred bucks that you couldn't fuck me ?"
"Ah..."
"That's what I thought. You dick. How stupid do you think I am ? Your name really fits you , Con." She snatched the money from him, took two hundreds and three twenties, and thrust the remaining two hundred and forty dollars back into his hand. Then, smiling broadly, she punched him in the shoulder. "Next time you make a bet like that, don't cheat me out of my half. I owe you a ten."
She winked ~ Larissa Ione