Accidentally Met You Quotes

Our lips met hungrily, and his clever artistic hands wrapped around my hips. A sudden buzz from my regular cell phone startled me from the kissing. "Don't," said Adrian, his eyes ablaze and breathing ragged. "What if there's a crisis at school?" I asked. "What if Angeline 'accidentally' stole one of the campus buses and drove it into the library?" "Why would she do that?" "Are you saying she wouldn't?" He sighed. "Go check it.

Everything you want right now, everything you want so passionately and think you’ll never get—you will get it someday.” I accidentally met her eyes, and it felt like she was talking to me. “Yes, you will get it,” she said, looking right at me, “but by that time, you won’t want it anymore. That’s how it happens.

The first time I met him, I accidentally turned his nose into a penis. I was young and thought about dick a lot.” Ryan almost fell down. For no apparent reason. He wasn’t even walking. I arched an eyebrow at him. “You okay?” “I just…,” Ryan started. “I don’t….Sam.” “That pretty much sums up how we all feel about Sam,” Gary said. “Fond with strong overtures of horror.

Oh, no," [Logan] said. "There's no crying in accidentally getting knocked up by the hottest bartender you've ever met." [Dana] laughed again. And sniffed again. "That's ridiculous. That's the perfect thing to cry about.

Am I really going to die?” Cimil’s face lit up with shock. “Jeez. What kind of goddess do you think I am? We just met, and I only kill people I know.

Talent is being unabashedly and unapologetically fearless in the work that you do. The only difference between having talent and not having talent is fear.

Everyone has stories of the small coincidence by which their parents met or their grandmother was saved from fire or their grandfather from the grenade, of the choice made by the most whimsical means that led to everything else, whether you're blessed or cursed or both. Trace it back far enough and this very moment in your life becomes a rare species, the result of a strange evolution, a butterfly that should already be extinct and survives by the inexplicabilities we call coincidence. The word is often used to mean the accidental but literally means to fall together. The patterns of our lives come from those things that do not drift apart but move together for a little while, like dancers.

The amount of time people who have just met are supposed to look directly at each other, particularly without talking, is a unit that’s both very short and very precise. When you exceed it, you get suspicious, or you get threatened, or you get this flicker of accidental

Sometimes standing up for what you believe means standing down and allowing the universe to do its work.

It's just not enough to do what you love. That's not living. Do what you love, WITH love. That's living.

Stupidity is actually in a way the mark of intelligence - if you're not doing stupid things that defy logic you're probably not taking enough risks.

Everything you want right now, everything you want so passionately and think you'll never get--you will get it someday." I accidentally met her eyes, and it felt like she was talking to me. "Yes, you will get get it," she said, looking right at me, "but by that time, you won't want it anymore. That's how it happens.

It's one of the magical things about life, that when you hit a wall, you step back genuinely and humbly... and the answers suddenly flow like a babbling brook.

Life doesn't get good until you learn to be grateful.

If you really want to seriously piss some people off, follow your heart.

The better looking you are the harder your life, under one condition: You're of above average intelligence. It's those unintelligent attractive people who have it best.

You’ve met my father?” “Oh, I know him… intimately. There is no cut, no bruise, no broken bone, no humiliation your father spared me.” He sneered, letting my pulse thud loudly in my ears. “Because of your father, I am a million shattered pieces, put back together all wrong. Now get that damn knife away from me before you accidentally hurt yourself. Only I get to hurt you.

If in answer to your inner voice screaming 'don't do it', you shake your head and do it anyway, I can guarantee your days will be more likely filled with respect and success.

I wanna have a full cart of groceries, and I wanna say to the guy in front of me with only two items: 'Mind if I go ahead of you?

A gauge of a life well-led: when it won't change if something you own breaks or is stolen; even a heart.

If you were starving and had all the time in the world, would you stop eating the greatest slice of cake on earth halfway through? Then why would you quit on your dreams?

That demon you met, Xerxes. He works for a fifth-level demon named Vald.

I'll be right here. Good luck, or break a leg, or something.” As Jay and Gregory turned and headed into the crowd, my traitorous eyes returned to the corner and found another pair or eyes staring darkly back. I dropped my gaze for three full seconds, and then lifted my eyes again, hesitant. The drummer was still staring at me, oblivious to the three girls trying to win back his attention. He put up one finger at the girls and said something that looked like, “Excuse me.” Oh, my goodness. Was he...? Oh, no. Yes, he was walking this way. My nerves shot into high alert. I looked around, but nobody else was near. When I looked back up, there he was, standing right in front of me. Good gracious, he was sexy-a word that had not existed in my personal vocabulary until that moment. This guy was sexy like it was his job or something. He looked straight into my eyes, which threw me off guard, because nobody ever looked me in the eye like that. Maybe Patti and Jay, but they didn't hold my stare like he was doing now. He didn't look away, and I found that I couldn't take my gaze off those blue eyes. “Who are you?” he asked in a blunt, almost confrontational way. I blinked. It was the strangest greeting I'd ever received. “I'm...Anna.” “Right. Anna. How very nice.” I tried to focus on his words and not his luxuriously accented voice, which made everything sound lovely. He leaned in closer. “But who are you?” What did that mean? Did I need to have some sort of title or social standing to enter his presence? “I just came with my friend Jay?” Oh, I hated when I got nervous and started talking in questions. I pointed in the general direction of the guys, but he didn't take his eyes off me. I began rambling. “They just wrote some songs. Jay and Gregory. That they wanted you to hear. Your band, I mean. They're really...good?” His eyes roamed all around my body, stopping to evaluate my sad, meager chest. I crossed my arms. When his gaze landed on that stupid freckle above my lip, I was hit by the scent of oranges and limes and something earthy, like the forest floor. It was pleasant in a masculine way. “Uh-huh.” He was closer to my face now, growling in that deep voice, but looking into my eyes again. “Very cute. And where is your angel?” My what? Was that some kind of British slang for boyfriend? I didn't know how to answer without continuing to sound pitiful. He lifted his dark eyebrows, waiting. “If you mean Jay, he's over there talking to some man in a suit. But he's not my boyfriend or my angel or whatever.” My face flushed with heat and I tightened my arms over my chest. I'd never met anyone with an accent like his, and I was ashamed of the effect it had on me. He was obviously rude, and yet I wanted him to keep talking to me. It didn't make any sense. His stance softened and he took a step back, seeming confused, although I still couldn't read his emotions. Why didn't he show any colors? He didn't seem drunk or high. And that red thing...what was that? It was hard not to stare at it. He finally looked over at Jay, who was deep in conversation with the manager-type man. “Not your boyfriend, eh?” He was smirking at me now. I looked away, refusing to answer. “Are you certain he doesn't fancy you?” Kaidan asked. I looked at him again. His smirk was now a naughty smile. “Yes,” I assured him with confidence. “I am.” “How do you know?” I couldn't very well tell him that the only time Jay's color had shown mild attraction to me was when I accidentally flashed him one day as I was taking off my sweatshirt, and my undershirt got pulled up too high. And even then it lasted only a few seconds before our embarrassment set in.

I’ve been all over the world, seen lots of things, met so many different people, but I wasn’t really living. Like you, I was just existing. Doing the only thing I thought I was capable of.

The start of a run is like the start of a writing session: First you resist, then you threaten to quit, then you roll your eyes and hunker down, and then suddenly you sprout wings and take flight.

But sometimes something shone like a gold ring at the bottom of the stream, and a sentence came to me with perfect clarity. Like this one: "Everything you want right now, everything you want so passionately and think you'll never get - you will get it someday." I accidentally met her eyes, and it felt like she was talking to me. "Yes, you will get it," she said, looking right at me, "but by that time, you won't want it anymore. That's how it happens.

I looked harder at Matthew 25 and realized that if  Jesus said "I was hungry and you fed me," then Christ's presence is not embodied in those who feed the hungry (as important as that work is), but Christ's presence is in the hungry being fed. Christ comes not in the form of those who visit the imprisoned but in the imprisoned being cared for. And to be clear, Christ does not come to us as the poor and hungry. Because, as anyone for whom the poor are not an abstraction but actual flesh-and-blood people knows, the poor and hungry and imprisoned are not a romantic special class of  Christlike people. And those who meet their needs are not a romantic special class of  Christlike people. We all are equally as sinful and saintly as the other. No, Christ comes to us in the needs of the poor and hungry, needs that are met by another so that the gleaming redemption of  God might be known. ... No one gets to play Jesus. But we do get to experience Jesus in that holy place where we meet others' needs and have our own needs met.

If your beloved claims you to be the love of their life and still would put others before you. You're nowhere to be seen, heard of, and recognizable for them if ever met accidentally, Would you still continue chasing that shadow of a ghost you know as love? Is it love, you see when you close your eyes in that darkness within your heart?

The amount of time people who have just met are supposed to look directly at each other, particularly without talking, is a unit that’s both very short and very precise. When you exceed it, you get suspicious, or you get threatened, or you get this flicker of accidental intimacy, like you’ve peeked at the person naked through a shower door.

If a boy was hot, I admired him from afar. Under no circumstances would I ever, EVER, walk over and strike up a conversation. What would I even say? Hi, I’m that totally-not-creepy girl who’s been accidentally following you through the grocery aisles, and sure, we’ve never met, but I know every social media account you have? And I follow them all?

We’re back where we met. The dance hall where you stepped on my toes is over there, the café where I accidentally trapped your hand in the door. Your little finger is still crooked, you used to say that I probably only married you because I felt bad about that.” “I didn’t care why you said yes. Just that you stayed.” “There’s the church where you became mine. There’s the house that became ours.

The silky swirl of his tongue in the hollow of her navel sent fire licking through her veins. Hazily aware of the area his mouth was traversing, she stirred beneath him. Not seeming to realize just where he was kissing her, Matthew persisted, sliding lower until Daisy let out a muffled yelp and pushed hard at his encroaching head. “What is it?” he asked, rising to his elbows. Crimson with mortification, Daisy could hardly bring herself to explain. “You were too close to my…well, you accidentally…” As her voice faded, understanding dawned in Matthew’s eyes. Quickly he bent his head to hide his expression, and a tremor ran through his shoulders. He replied with great care, still looking away from her. “It wasn’t accidental. I meant to do that.” Daisy was astonished. “But you were going to kiss me right on my—” She broke off as his gaze met hers, laughter dancing in his blue eyes. He wasn’t embarrassed at all—he was amused. “You’re not shocked, are you?” he asked. “I thought you were well read.” “Well, no one would ever write about something like that.” He shrugged, his eyes glowing. “You’re the literary authority.” “You’re making fun of me,” she said. “Just a little,” he whispered, and kissed her stomach again. Her legs jerked against his restraining hands.

When I finished, Dr. Fellows said, "And this was a vision you had Corey?" "Right." "Are you sure?" "Huh?" She lowered her voice. "Is it possible that Derek... influenced this vision of yours?" "What? No." "Absolutely not," I said. "Derek's the one who cut it short. Accidentally, but still. And if by influence, you mean 'talked us into telling a lie to get everyone out tonight,' then I don't appreciate the insinuation, Dr. Fellows." Her brows shot up to meet her hairline. Tori smirked and leaned back onto her pillow. "Well, Maya, I don't know you yet, so you'll forgive me if I question you." "I don't blame you. You don't know us. But you do know Derek and, sorry, but persuasion doesn't seem to be the guy's strong suit." "She has a point, Lauren," Tori said. Dr. Fellows shot her a look, which Tori met with a cool gaze. "Also," Tori said, "I really think you'd know your niece better than that. I wouldn't put it past Derek to lie to get us out of here, but no way would Chloe let him pull others into the scheme."

Because you are probably the single strongest, most capable person I've ever met, and you just had a total meltdown. I was there when you came to work the day after your stepdad's funeral. I was there when that idiot accidentally shot you through the hand with a nail gun, stapling you to a stud wall, and you calmly whipped the hammer out of your belt, got the nail out, and without batting an eyelash or dropping a tear told him to get the rest of the wall together while you went for a tetanus shot. You're a seriously tough cookie, Miss Anneke, so if you're this upset, upset enough to let my distasteful hateful personage come anywhere near you, leet alone comfort you? Things must be bad.

Schopenhauer, in his splendid essay called "On an Apparent Intention in the Fate of the Individual," points out that when you reach an advanced age and look back over your lifetime, it can seem to have had a consistent orderand plan, as though composed by some novelist. Events that when they occurred had seemed accidental and of little moment turn out to have been indispensable factors in the composition of a consistent plot. So who composed that plot? Schopenhauer suggests that just as your dreams are composed by an aspect of yourself of which your consciousness is unaware, so, too, your whole life is composed by the will within you. And just as people whom you will have met apparently by mere chance became leading agents in the structuring of your life, so, too, will you have served unknowingly as an agent, giving meaning to the lives of others. The whole thing gears together like one big symphony, with everything unconsciously structuring everything else. And Schopenhauer concludes that it is as though our lives were the features of the one great dream of a single dreamer in which all the dream characters dream, too; so that everything links to everything else, moved by the one will to life which is the universal will in nature.

Did he suggest taking you for a walk in the moonlight?" "How did you know?" Virginia sighed. "That's what he does. I think it's a kind of challenge for him-to see if he can get young women to let him steal a kiss. If he succeeds..." She trailed off with a frown. "If he succeeds, then what?" Celia prodded. "Frankly, I'm not sure. That's as far as the girls ever get in complaining to me about him. First, they tell me he kissed them and it was like communing on some 'ethereal plane.'" She snorted. "Then they protest that they were sure he loved them. And then they start crying. It all goes downhill from there." "You don't think he actually-" "No!" She chewed on her lip. "That is, I don't think so. It's hard to know with Pierce. He's so unpredictable." Her gaze met Celia's. "But I'd hate to think of him getting you off alone and attempting-" "You needn't worry about that," Celia said. "That's what I have Betty for." "Betty?" Celia reached into her reticule and pulled out her ladies' pocket pistol. Virginia leapt back. "Oh, my word! Does your family know you carry that around?" "I doubt it. I don't think they'd approve." "I should say not!" Virginia surveyed it curiously. "Is it loaded?" "Only with powder. There's no ball." "Thank heaven for that. Still, aren't you worried it will go off by itself?" "No. It has two protections to keep it from firing accidentally. I made sure of that when I purchased it." She hefted the pistol. "I've been told that ladies of the evening use this sort of gun to frighten customers who try to hurt them." "Told by whom?" "My gunsmith, of course." "How on earth did you find a gunsmith?" Celia shrugged. "Gabe introduced me to his." Virginia rolled her eyes. "You and my husband are mad, I swear." "I suppose we are." With a faint smile, she stroked the pearl handle. "I learned how to shoot from him.

What you do tentatively will totter; what you do fearlessly will flourish.

I tell you what I know. The world's damn beautiful. But it's an accidental beauty. What we do, it's deliberate. It's the one damn consolation you can offer not just you own life, but other lives you ain't even met.

He continues in a softer tone. “And her zia will explain to her how this is all for the best, and how family comes first, and how, if her new husband proves to be anything like her zia’s late husband Enzo, he’ll find himself the victim of an untimely death, too.” He pauses. “A meticulously planned death with no witnesses or evidence of foul play. An ‘accidental’ death so well executed, it even fooled the police.” Without missing a beat, I say, “I didn’t kill my husband.” He smiles. “I’ve never met anyone who can lie as well as you do.” “It’s a gift.

This book was inspired by these words.” “The young man was a blacksmith in the village, a magnificent white charger horse was brought to him, and he was ordered to put iron shoes onto the horse's hooves. After doing this he took the horse for a ride in the open field, and thereby a Brook he met a fair maiden. He fell madly in love with her instantly, he claimed that he was a decorated knight, but she could see he was poor, and was a blacksmith. His black working hands betrayed him, but she never mentioned this to the young man. After talking, for about fifteen minutes, in perfect harmony and calm, their meeting was broken up when two ladies that were approached the maiden.” “The maiden took out her handkerchief and gave it to him, he took it without taking his eyes off of her. The maiden dashed off running towards the two women, assuring them that she was alright. That evening a guard came from the castle, took the white charger with the new horseshoes and left. The dashing young man got to work instantly. Making himself a beautiful sword like no other. He then made himself a silver shining armour, beautiful as any knight.” “The young man made wooden replicas of men in battle, and he would practice for hours, finding new ways of defeating the enemy. All of this because of a chance meeting in a field, and the handkerchief he kept pressed against his chest. The danger was looming and there was talk of an invasion, from another country. To preserve the dignity and the honour of the village and the castle that employed all the villagers. “ “The king asked for volunteers for the impending battle. The blacksmith went to the castle as one of the volunteers. He showed up on an old brown horse, that would not be able to stand the first charge in battle. Proudly he was dressed in his silver knight's armour, holding his handmade sword. One of the guards came and took away his horse, the young man looked on sadly as others around the courtyard mocked him. Another guard approached him with the white charger that he nailed the shoes to his hooves; “this will be your steed, the guard said and he helped him onto the horse. There was silence around the forecourt, he turned and rode with the knights out to meet the enemy.” “After five hours of battle, they had secured a brave victory. The young man performed above and beyond the call of duty. He was chosen to be knighted. As he entered the great hall in the castle, there were people on both sides of the hall as he walked up to the spot where he was to be knighted. Waiting patiently, to perform the ceremony of knighthood, was none other than the king himself, and next to him, his young daughter, a princess he met by chance in a field, after the ceremony of knighthood, the princess stepped forward and said, thank you for bringing my horse back to me, a young woman who overlooked his poverty, have him her white horse, and encouraged him with giving him her handkerchief, by speaking to him in a field with kindness, her father the king was rewarded with a knight of chivalry and virtue. All because of accidental meeting and events, that encouraged someone ready in life, to step forth, and take control of his dreams, as impossible, as they seemed at the time.

looked after him, the realisation dawning on me that every person you met was deeper than you ever gave them credit for. Especially when people they cared about were involved. My friends

Sade pretty much summed up life in seven words: 'It's only love that gets you through.

When Rip Torn dies - heaven forbid - but when he dies, you'll only have to write RIP Torn.

Writers searching for their voice: Whatever you're afraid to say, whatever burns inside you, say it with conviction. You don't need a class for that.

You're pretty great, God, and I mean that, but if it were up to me - like if I happened to be YOU - my teeth would floss themselves.

The only time in history Keanu Reeves' acting would have been considered appropriate is if he were the first human being on earth. But then you have to consider that the flowers would wilt.

Declan was a good boy before he met you, and one day soon he’ll realize what a mistake he made in you. Don’t think you can trap him in a marriage because you ‘accidentally’ got pregnant.” She pointed at my stomach as she took a step closer. “And if I find out that is the reason you are getting a little too pudgy in your midsection, believe me, little girl, you will find out what a southern woman’s wrath looks like if you don’t get rid of that problem before it’s too late.” A sharp, incredulous laugh burst from my chest, and my nails dug into my palms until it became painful. “Wow.” Taylor drew out the word when the front door slammed shut. “She is a real peach, that one.” She waited until I looked at her to add, “And by ‘peach,’ I mean ‘psychotic.’” My

Paeng leans back and rests his hand flat on the table. “Vince.” Blushing, he snaps at his friend. “I dropped the bra on the wet tarp and I guess I must have accidentally gotten paint on it and touched it to my cheek, okay?” Paeng is silent as Vince sighs. “I didn’t mean to take my upset out on you, sorry.” “No big. So, you fondled it. Was it good for you?” Paeng’s eyes glitter, making Vince’s anxiety flare. “I couldn’t help myself! The girl’s smoking hot and yet she doesn’t appear to own trashy underwear.” He feels all dreamy just thinking about it. “It’s simple and soft . . . it felt so nice. She’s not like any of the girls I’ve met before. She’s direct, feisty and artistic and I bet she’s really smart. She’s nothing like the usual MOM Girl and she’s not even my type. But her underwear is beautiful. She doesn’t wear slutty underwear because she doesn’t put on airs, and oh, God, that’s so attractive. What I wouldn’t give to see—” Paeng face palms Vince. “Dude. You are waxing poetic about cotton underwear like my sisters wear when they get their periods. It’s just underwear. It is not the key to Dani’s psyche. You are making the kind of assumptions about her that lead to expensive rings, one point two kids, and minivans. You are in trouble.

The fact is, we are all, at once, bearers of the gospel and receivers of it. We meet the needs of others and have our needs met. And the strangeness of the good news is that, like those in Matthew 25 who sat before the throne and said Huh? When did we ever feed you, Lord?, we never know when we experience Jesus in all of this. All that we have is a promise, a promise that our needs are holy to God. A promise that Jesus is present in the meeting of needs and that his kingdom is here.

He met with an incident." "You mean an accident." "Oh no, my Lord. There was nothing accidental about it.

The amount of time people who have just met are supposed to look directly at each other, particularly without talking, is a unit that’s both very short and very precise. When you exceed it you get suspicious, or you get threatened, or you get this flicker of accidental intimacy.

Date: 10/03/2022 So, this is the book that she's been hiding all this time? How disappointing. I was expecting more... Anyways, my name is Gemma. I am a Minecraft player who loves a challenge. Aaaand I think before I act...I really didn't want to admit it! But ya, this is me. Sorry for the weird intro. My friend Lizzy has become really strange recently. I figured that there was something wrong with her. She was hiding something from me, but I never knew what. I decided to find out the truth. So, one day, after she logged off from Minecraft, I crept into her house and peeked into her chest. I found a book named Codex of Seeds. It wasn't there before. Naturally curious, I took the book and started to read it. I found out that my best friend was keeping a diary for more than a month! She had met Herobrine, the white-eyed ghost, and he gave Lizzy the Codex. He told him to safekeep the Codex and not let anyone else know about it, or else he would hack her. My friend agreed, but she didn't really do a very good job about keeping a secret. I then flipped through the book and found many amazing stories. This is the same book that you are reading right now. Wait, what? Why are my hearts dropping...oh no. He is here. Run for your life. It is too late. He killed me. He shook his head, picked up the Codex and teleported away. THE END

The only way to get what you want is to admit you don't really know what you want. But in the end, of course, you never truly get what you want. So just enjoy the ride.

It was 25 Long Years Ago I threw away the good gifts that God sent my way Because my heart and mind were hung up on What I didn’t have, couldn’t have, or wouldn’t ever have. My heart, entangled in longing, couldn't escape the snare, Loving you was a torment but a burden I loved to bear. Damn, my heart… Damn my soul Why did I fall so much in love with you? It’s going to be 25 long years soon Since our paths first crossed But your memories are so firmly embossed in my heart. Those fluttering sensations, like butterflies in flight, Still reside within me, igniting a warm, gentle light. That one moment when our eyes accidentally met There were so many things my heart could never forget, A silent connection, emotions so hard to suppress, In that fleeting gaze, love's sweet caress. I dreamt of a future when we'd finally unite, But life's plan took a different route, an unexpected flight. We never met again; our paths diverged and parted, Leaving behind cherished memories, though we never officially started. Now, we both have different lives, But in the quiet domain of my heart, my unrequited love still survives, What if my love remained unreciprocated? A question that lingers in memories, fated. I cherish that one single day when we met, With regrets unabated. My love for you knows no boundaries, It may be unrequited, but It’s timeless, boundless, and endless for all eternity.

All really enormous charm, the kind that Graham exuded, does much more than it needs to. It gushes out so much that you can live inside it. That was the reason that Graham didn't just mow down women, which most men would have been satisfied with. Graham had men friends who might have died for him and even gas-station attendants felt it and did his windshield better. Animals woke up and came and sat on top of him when he came into a room. Plants that were dying in my house would get better if Graham fixed them. My grandmother met him accidentally one day and still asks about him.

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