Bae Quotes

I knew Dad was concerned about my past associations. I was from the Trash Alley. It was my community. I hung out with thugs from the Frog Bottom, the Burns Bottoms, the Red Line, the S-Curve, the Sandfield, the Morning Side, and a bunch of other places that shall remain nameless. I knew all of the “Legends of the Hood”: Sin Man, Swap, Boo Boo, Emp-Man, Cookie Man, Shank, Polar Bear, Bae Willy, Bae Bruh, Skullhead Ned, Pimp, Crunch, and Goat Turd (just to name a few). I thought maybe Dad had summoned me as a “show and tell” for the kids in his neighborhood—the hardliner to scare those wayward suburban brats back into reality.

Alternatives to “Bae” The one who wins all of the arguments, the keeper of the remote, the girl who turns my stomach into a butterfly nest, the pink Starburst, the one I will always choose first no matter what else is in the pack, the red Kool-Aid, the right amount of sugar, the pulp, the part that makes the juice seem real.

I truly believe this generation is full of moronic idiots. Baes and Hashtags? Selfies? What the hell happened

No matter how decadent and corrupt my body becomes, I will, like a desert orchid that blooms once every hundred years, come to you bearing this frigidness toward life.

In life there are wounds that like leprosy slowly eat away at the soul in solitude.

Whatever the intention or aim of the photographer, every photograph is a unique proof of identify, firmly declaring that human beings are ghosts.

You were born with a knife in your heart.

They don't know what poor is. They don't know that poverty is a sharp knife carving away at you. They don't know what it does to the body. To a mind.

You have the eyes of a wolf-girl whose heart has never once been moved. When I press my ear to your chest, I hear only wind and emptiness.

Ayami was her future self or her past self. And she was both, existing at the same time. In that other world, she was both the chicken and the old woman. That was the secret of night and day existing simultaneously. Ayami discovered this through a single movement, bending down to pick up the pebble. And, remembering this simultaneous existence more vividly than she remembered herself, became unable to remember anything else.

To love is to be destroyed, and to be loved is to be destroyed.

The magic swirling around Bae made her look menacing, almost feral and he wanted her more than he'd wanted any other woman. She was something else entirely.

Even now I think maybe my family is just a random collection of people I knew long ago and will never happen upon again, and people I don’t know yet but will meet by chance one day.

The body is a passageway - a channel, without which the two of us would not be able to exist in the way we do now, the way I know you and you know me. Without their mirror images, our original forms would not exist.

here I thought this shit only happens in romance novels with Duskwalkers or blue aliens that have dicks down to their knees.

The moment I stopped praying, God, save me, and instead prayed, God, use me, I felt free.

ROMEO: Here’s the thing: when you back a wounded dog into a corner, it’s going to come out fighting.

I was only twenty-four, but I was tired.

You’re also pushing this so you can look like the perfect little ‘white ally,’ thinking that’s gonna make my brother stay with you as he rises to the top. You trying to look like you were always down, the woke bae we invite to the barbecue. This whole charade is all about you!

She headed straight to the heart of the darkness, which lacked even a single point of light, and where not even the road beneath her feet could be seen. Like a blind owl, she walked as one with the darkness, undisturbed by it.

Every now and then I picture a subway train at night packed with people I used to know and random people whom I will meet by chance in some distant future. Most of the people I knew a long time ago now live their lives without me, and those whom I will meet by chance one day do not know me now. They walk by apathetically, their faces gloomy beneath the dim lights of the city hall subway station, jostling my shoulders as they pass.

Objects, matter itself, were softly disintegrating. All identity became ambiguous, semi-opaque.

Most of the people I knew long ago now live their lives without me, and those whom I will meet by chance one day do not know me now.

He knew how to accept the tedium without the ennui.

Rimmel: I finally accepted the fact I was really struggling today, and with that acceptance, it became a little easier to breathe.

Whatever the intention or aim of the photographer, Wolfi thought, every photograph is a unique proof of identity, firmly declaring that human beings are ghosts.

You must understand something. Money is not a sign of achievement.

You look like you got into a fight with a dehydrator and it won, you bag of bones.

Bae: Black and Exquisite.

*chillin wit my smart hoe* me: bae whats the temperature of the sun? her: 10 million degrees me: ur so sexy when u know things

Friends are Family and Family is Bae

Coz Red is for LOVE and Love is BAE!

Lovely Hair = bae

Baby,' he said. Behind 'bae', Penny despised 'baby' as a thing for a grown adult woman to be called. It was so prescriptive. Like dressing sexy for Halloween.

for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats

I shrugged, not giving one damn about taking power from her bae.

Asleep, I heard the sound of sleeping breath. Of one sleeping breath fumbling for another. They must be tangles with you, my breathing, my sleep, and my dreams. And I wanted to keep dreaming.

Being poor or being lonely could be either fortunate or unfortunate, but the truth is that the distinction was meaningless. Whether we were fortunate or not, we were still different, and that’s all there was to it.

Jayden went for my fries, ignoring Anna’s narrowed gaze. “Thanks, babe.” “You two know each other?” Jo gestured between Jayden and me with her fork. Before I could nod, he dropped an arm over my shoulders. “She’s my bae.” I grinned. “Bae?” Keira sighed. “I hate that word. Do you know what it really means?” “Poop,” I answered without thinking. “In Danish.” My eyes widened. Holy crap. I’d spoken without hesitation at lunch! Holy crap! No one recognized my internal freak-out over it, but I couldn’t believe it. I sat there and spoke with no problem. I needed to give myself a cookie. Anna giggled. “Oh, man. I know. I know. Still think it’s a cute word.” Across from her, Keira rolled her eyes. “It literally means shit.” “Mallory is the shit, though.

In the darkness, Ayami's voice insisted overwhelmingly on its own identity. It was a corporeal voice. Just as, in the light of day, people can't help their gaze going to a beautiful woman, in the darkness they pay more attention to the voice. They accept the mystery of seeming to feel the other's gaze on their skin.

She gave her son an American name followed by a Korean personal name followed by the family name. She named him Charles Jae Won Bae. She named her second son Daniel Jae Ho Bae. In the end, she chose both. Korean and American. American and Korean. So they would know where they were from. So they would know where they were going.

Somebody call me right one Somebody call me wrong 난 신경 쓰지 않을래 너도 그럼 어때 So what Let go 한숨 그 안에 많은 걱정이 숨어있네 고민 그만해 너는 이미 다 알고 있지 이 길의 중간에 포기하고 싶은 순간에 더 크게 소리질러봐 So what what what 내 맘대로 되는 건 없고 숨을 곳은 뭐 더더욱 없어 이미 주사윈 던져진 지 오래 꾸물대단 휩쓸려가겠지 oh bae 고민들의 9할은 니가 만들어 낸 상상의 늪 고민보다 go go 쫄지마렴 cheer up 소리쳐봐 so what what We are, we are, we are Young and wild and free 답도 없는 고민 고민 그 속에 빠져 있지 마 yeah 경계선 위에서 위태롭다 해도 웃고 떠들며 바람을 가르자 때론 바보같이 멍청이 달리기 실수와 눈물 속에 we just go So what 멈춰서 고민 하지마 다 쓸데 없어 Let go 아직은 답이 없지만 You can start the fight So what Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh Oh oh oh oh oh oh Let go Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh Oh oh oh oh oh oh So what Ay 누군 일들이 싫대 Ay 누군 쉬고만 싶대 Ay 그들의 고통과 피폐 Ay 모두 내게 몰아칠 때 Ay 어떡하긴 뭐 어떡해 uh 답은 하나밖에 없기에 uh 그냥 믿고 달려보자고 so what? oh yeah I don’t wanna die right now I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna fight right now 걱정이 싫어 인생은 길어 걍 가 I wanna live right now 브레이크 부러졌으니 밟아 엑셀 이러나 저러나 사람 신세 다 안다면 무슨 재미냐 고통은 내 훈장 그래서 so what? We are, we are, we are Young and wild and free 답도 없는 고민 고민 그 속에 빠져 있지 마 yeah 경계선 위에서 위태롭다 해도 웃고 떠들며 바람을 가르자 때론 바보같이 멍청이 달리기 실수와 눈물 속에 we just go So what 멈춰서 고민 하지마 다 쓸데 없어 Let go 아직은 답이 없지만 You can start the fight So what Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh Oh oh oh oh oh oh Let go Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh Oh oh oh oh oh oh Somebody call me right one (right one) Somebody call me wrong (call me wrong) 난 신경 쓰지 않을래 (않을래) 너도 그럼 어때 (어때) So what 멈춰서 고민 하지마 다 쓸데 없어 Let go 아직은 답이 없지만 You can start the fight So what Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh Oh oh oh oh oh oh Let go Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh Oh oh oh oh oh oh So what Somebody call me right one Somebody call me wrong 난 신경 쓰지 않을래 너도 그럼 어때 - BTS (So What)

You won’t even know they’re here.

Woman, you would test the control of a Saint.

She is not a lady! She is Satan in female form sent to drag me off to my own personal hell.

Life wasn't just any one thing. It was a combination... a melting pot of emotions, a mix of salty and sweet.

I smiled into his lips, and he continued to kiss me. "Your smile is my favorite flavor," he said, pulling away slightly.

My brain was the internet, and I had one thousand tabs open all the time.

He still did it. He still looked at me like I was all he saw, like I was the sun and the moon all wrapped up into one.

That's right, I, Human, Do not change. Thinking I can change is nothing but a delusion Trying to change without true reflection is simply foolish Human, Never, Change

We have a god,” Mr. Park replied, “and his name is Kim Il Sung.

Romeo: You couldn’t put a price on piece of mind.

Romeo: You know what pisses me off? When good days are ruined by bad s*t.

ROMEO: Fastest way to not hear what someone has to say? Hang up on them. Did it make me an *sshole? Sure did. Did I give a rat’s *ss? H*lls no.

VALERIE: .....It isn’t your fault. These things, these horrible things just happen.

The prison of time called life.

To the final darkness of summer before the oncoming dawn, I whisper: “I don’t know anything.” I’m not thrilled by sex, and I’m not moved by love.

Alright, your turn. How does a Black man end up owning a whole damn mountain lodge? Like, no shade, but Black folks and the woods? That’s not exactly our lane.

In the end, Min Soo compromised. She gave her son an American name followed by a Korean personal name followed by the family name. She named him Charles Jae Won Bae. She named her second son Daniel Jae Ho Bae. In the end, she chose both. Korean and American. American and Korean. So they would know where they were from. So they would know where they were going.

While roomie bae bustled around the downstairs living/kitchen area, I tried to do what I used to to ex bae. What I did to all my female friends/lovers. That is, ramble my unformed thoughts about some new idea, treat her like my sounding board, and then, once I’d finished, had nutted (intellectually), sit there and wait for her to tell me my ideas were in fact fully formed

That's right. Your husband. I belong to you, Rim. Always. I don't want anyone but you. I haven't since the day you spilled pencils everywhere, in your lesbian sweater, and gave me a list of rules.

I escaped out of the pitch-black customs area, and in the darkness everybody merged with their bags and suitcases, fusing together like shadows worn thin; they looked like ghosts, passing through a station to the other world. Carrying backpacks and pushing trolleys, as though the weight and bulk of their luggage were a final, definitive record of who they had been in life, like a funeral guestbook.

Girl, I’ve seen this man. He is the living, breathing definition of a book boyfriend. Fixes cars, owns a lodge, got that quiet ‘I’ll fight for you’ energy? Stop playing and tell me when the wedding is.

You were incredible today,” he said finally, his voice soft but full of meaning. “Not just on the slopes, but everything—handling that call, standing your ground, deciding to elevate your business. That’s strength. That’s inspiring.

I looked over at the others. "Anyone have tree-climbing issues?" Obviously Ash and I didn't. Daniel, Hayley, and Corey said they'd be fine. Chloe hoped she would—she had gymnastics training. Mr. Bae joked that it would be his first time in a couple of decades. Derek said nothing. "Derek?" "It looks like I'll be the guy doing the distracting. I'm not trusting a tree branch to hold me." "You're not playing decoy," Chloe said. She turned to us. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds like a cop-out, but he really can't. The last time we were in a fight against the St. Clouds, the orders were to tranq all of us except Derek. For him, it was shoot to kill. They don't trust werewolves." "I think they've calmed down," Derek said. "They've been watching us for months and haven't tried to assassinate me yet." Chloe put her hands on her hips. "And that's your definition of acceptance? Not going out of their way to kill you?"

She was a collector of lost souls. The forgotten, the bypassed, the most beautiful at heart. Rimmel saw beauty no one else saw, and even though how she made others feel was amazing, it was nothing compared to the way it made her shine.

Don’t say, just listen. When we got together, we became a unit. How you move is how I move, how I hustle, is how you hustle, and how you getcha money is how I get my money. What you go through, nigga I feel, and I’m not into allowing myself to hurt. If you wanna be the king of this drug shit, then it’s only right as your queen that I make it happen. Letting me handle this little situation isn’t gonna make you any less of a king then you already are. I can only add to you bae. I would never take from you.

Names are powerful things. They act as an identity marker and a kind of map, locating you in time and geography. More than that, they can be a compass. In the end, Min Soo compromised. She gave her son an American name followed by a Korean personal name followed by the family name. She named him Charles Jae Won Bae. She named her second son Daniel Jae Ho Bae. In the end, she chose both. Korean and American. American and Korean. So they would know where they were from. So they would know where they were going.

We have a god,” Mr. Park replied, “and his name is Kim Il Sung. You came here worshiping a different god, and that is a crime. And you say you came to pray for us, but I know you. Since you believe in a different god, you came to pray against us and against our Great Leader.

ROMEO: If there was one thing I’d learned over the past few years, it was life wasn’t easy. In fact, at times, it was f*cking brutal. Family was supposed to be the exception. Family was supposed to make life easier. It wasn’t always that way. Guess that’s why the six of us formed our own family. A family by choice and out of loyalty.

Tell me what you like, what you want to do.” “I like having a cigarette and a cup of coffee in the morning. And I like watching the rain through a big plate-glass window.” “Is that all?” “Yes, that’s all.” “What about what you want to do in the future?” “Oh, that? … I don’t think about the future. You said you don’t, either. All I think about is death.

Sleep drifted about over lukewarm waves, like an anesthetic leaching in through veins, seized by sleep's phantoms... held within sleep, on eye make a simultaneous record of what the other sees. Sleep, the soul's gelatinous component, the made-visible half-form of that which is unsee. Dreams and the embrace of dreams, which always stir up such sluggish, stunned sensations. This things that stimulates my sleep, the respiration and waves of dreams, waves of breath, and waves of water, that chord and note.

Burn me. Pour gasoline over me and set my body on fire. Burn me at the stake like a witch. Wrap me in garbage bags and toss me in the incinerator. I'll turn into dioxin and make my way into your lungs. Stroke my face lightly with a razor blade and suck the blood that comes seeping out. Lap it up like a cat. I want to be covered in blood. I'll cry out in the end and weep for fear of leaving this world without ever once discovering the me inside me, the ugly something inside me. The foul scent of burning hair. The heat.

It wasn't so different from 1978, and it wasn't any more or less memorable in comparison to 1998. The things that happened in 1988 had also happened in 1978 and would happen again in 1998. The people I met in 1988 were no different from those who bumped shoulders with me in the subway in 1978 and whose apathetic eyes met mine outside of a gas station in the middle of the night in 1998. They were family, and they were the unfamiliar middle class, and they were malnourished soldiers. They were each other's toilets and strangers and cliffs and crows and prisons. They were never anything more than who they were. Third person random.

Adjusting the public record in the West was certainly more complicated than it was at home, and vastly more expensive. Tony Blair guarded the financial details of his consultancy work as jealously as Nazarbayev guarded the details of his kickbacks, but the three-term prime minister’s services were said to cost Kazakhstan $13 million a year. Blair understood when to use light, when darkness. Back in 2006, investigators from the Serious Fraud Office chasing down bribery related to the sale of British fighter jets to Saudi Arabia had tried to inspect the middlemen’s Swiss accounts. The House of Saud had sent word that such interference in their affairs would cause them to cancel the next multibillion-dollar batch of planes from BAE Systems, formerly British Aerospace. Blair’s government halted the SFO investigation, on the grounds of Saudi Arabia’s invaluable assistance in heading off attacks by adherents of the jihadism the kingdom itself sponsored. For Sir Dick Evans, a lifelong arms dealer who had risen to the chairmanship of BAE and been questioned by the SFO’s bribery investigators as they homed in on their targets, this represented a bullet dodged at the last second. His next profitable course would lead to Kazakhstan, to set up an airline, Astana Air.

"If it's a outside deal, how will I get my kids back?" Kit asked. "The Cabals have them." Chloe and Derek's heads both whipped Kit's way. "You're considering this?" Chloe said. "I can get them," Dr. Inglis said. "We'll take Corey now, as a gesture of good faith from you. Then I will take Daniel for your son and Maya for your daughter." "Dad?" Derek said. Kit didn't answer him. He didn't even look over. Chloe looked from us to Kit, her blue eyes wide. "Y-you c-can't—" Derek leaped to his feet. "I won't let you do this, Dad. These kids came to you for help." I gaped at Derek. Even Chloe looked confused. I might have known the guy for less than twenty-four hours, but short of demonic possession, I couldn't imagine him saying that.

My Father mapped out the perfect blueprint for how to treat a woman. He caters hand and foot to my Mother. Even showers that love onto my sister. He never had to tell me how to treat my woman because his actions spoke louder. Did I cling to my woman? Absolutely. Being up under soft melanin skin pleased me. You want to read a book? Cool, what story we reading? Wanna go shopping? Take my card if you promise to model everything for me. Those females at work bothering you? Let’s get animated in the mirror and act like we about to tag team. Your period on? Baby, want me to rub your belly? You need me to get those diaper looking pads with the wings? How about some lemon ginger tea? What are your dreams? You want to sell weave? Let’s catch a flight to China or India and figure out how we can become wholesalers. You wanna make cute Snapchat filter videos? What filter do you want? Are they not liking your pics? Fine. I’ll blast you all over my page. Your Mother threatening to kick you out. Where you wanna move? Better yet, move in with me. Just focus on school and building your brand. I got everything else. You got finals coming up. Pick a tutor. Heck, can I pay for the answers to the quiz? You think those stretch marks make you unattractive? Come here and let me show you how much I appreciate your stripes of glitter. Do you want to go to Dr. Miami? Absolutely not. We going to the gym. Gym grown not silicone. We are working out together. Go ahead and hashtag us as #baegoals #coupleswhoworkouttogetherstaytogether. You want to switch the hair and get a tapered cut? Let me call my barber and see when we can go. Stressing and worrying? You keep hearing whispers while you’re sleeping? Nah bae, that’s not a ghost. That’s me praying for you.

The deeply flushed midsummer sunlight, the strong, clear alcohol filling a dirty glass, a goat tethered with a rope, the enormous sides of a glitteringly white modern building, the solemn melody of the national orchestra, the slender-necked actress who was performing on the stage, the arc of a rainbow which, after a sudden shower, fell to the earth like an arrow from between the clouds, a sheepdog pressed flat under the wheel of a car, a herd of stubborn goats bobbing their heads with profound indifference, blue cloth fluttering in the wind, designating something sacred, a swarthy woman looking down on the street below from a first-floor window, her exposed chest leaning out over the wooden frame, cat-sized rats threading their way around the legs of market stalls, unlit signs and display windows, a sombrely lit butcher’s fridge, each dark red carcass still buttressed with the animal’s skeleton, Banchi’s printing shop, on the ground floor of a temple on the main street in the city centre, there Banchi makes picture postcards featuring his own translations of Indian sutras.

In the past, people were vaguely fearful of photographs, believing the camera's exact reproduction of their own image would steal their souls. Not only did these images survive for much longer than their subjects, they were also endowed with an aura of magic the subjects lacked. A superstition, but one whose traces can still be felt today. People sense that the photograph captures an uncanny moment in the interstices of reality, enhancing reality's eeriness, the root of which is unknown, and fixing that moment in place like a death mask. Photography differs from the art of painting in that capturing or exposing such a moment happens neither at the will of the photographer nor the one who is photographed. What is photographed is a ghost moment, clothed in matter. Photography is the dream of comprehensive meaning. Each object has parts of itself that are invisible. This territory, which neither the photographer nor the subject can govern, constitutes the secret kept by the object. Unrelated to the intention of either photographer or subject, within the magic of photography dwells a still, quiet shock. Try to imagine our house one day when we ourselves are no more. Somewhere in that house is the ghost of us, which will pass alone in front of a blind mirror, revealing our own blurred image.

BAE~ Be Amazing Everyday

What you need to do is throw that shit in the garbage and stop disrespecting them damn animals.

Shit, if you don’t tell her then I will. I don’t need nobody thinking you my man. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not Saweetie and you are not my type. Besides that would be incest and that’s nasty as hell,” Zoie clarified.

He was livid like someone had slapped his bald headed grandma.

You sure he ain’t gay? Cause I mean you stay curving these niggas cause of Granddaddy long legs.

Fuck Anthony ole geriatric ass! You need to forget about paw paw and get with your zaddy. Trust me, it will be well worth it.” “How

And his ass needs to drop the fuck out too,” Xaveria insisted. “Bruh, I don’t mean any harm, but NuNu is the last person that needs to be trying to dress anybody. Hell Stevie Wonder wouldn’t even let that nigga dress him,” Quincy laughed. “Well how about you let me and Xaveria plan the wedding and you and NuNu can plan the baby shower?” I threw out there.

See, Naija made that promise but I didn’t say a word. When Keci turned that camera on I damn near slid out the bed I laughed so hard. I swear to God she looked just like Fire Marshall Bill from In Living Color. “Damn!” “Babe, don’t do that,” Naija scolded me knowing damn well she wanted to laugh. “It look bad don’t it?” Keci asked seriously. “Um, well, I mean what did you do?” “I left my relaxer in too long.” “How long is too long?” Naija questioned. “Looks like she slept in that bitch,” I mumbled. “Ouch! What I do?” Naija

Nah, we fucked each other. Ain’t that right bae?” Devil taunted me. “Let this nigga know how I put this dick up in you and how you rode my shit reverse cowgirl all night.

Your pussy feels so good, Em. You gon’ make nut all inside this shit.” Ember moaned, “Mmm. Nut in me, bae.

She has a point,” Kema added. “His friend was fine, though. What they be calling him, realtor bae?” “Girl, no. You just made that up,” Sevyn cackled.

If you're looking for a Juicy, Hot & Steamy, Romance Book... Bae, by Rosie M Wise, is a Must Read!

If you're looking for a Juicy, Hot, & Steamy Romance Novel... Bae by Rosie M Wise, is a Must Read!

I should have gone with. Slayers are stronger together.” Valen drums his fingers on the table. “Have you met Greer, slay bae?” One of his fries smacks into my face. I blink twice, glance down at the fried potato in my lap, then give him a look. “Rude.” “She’s the only one who can call me that, teddy bear.

His friend was fine, though. What they be calling him, realtor bae?” “Girl, no. You just made that up,” Sevyn cackled. “I did,” Kema laughed.

You’re not going to have kids?” Carson asks. “I would have thought you needed someone to carry on the famous Orson Ass.” I pause, my mind reeling. Holy. Fuck. “Hell, I didn’t even think about that.” I grip my forehead in distress. “Great, look what you just did,” Knox says while I pick up my phone to text Dottie. “Don’t text Dottie, Carson was just being a dick.” “No, this is not something we considered. We need to talk about this, right away.” I excuse myself from the table and weave my way through the restaurant until I find a quiet corner near the bathrooms. I dial “Bae’s” phone number and wait impatiently for her to answer. “Hey, aren’t you are at brunch with the boys?” she asks when she answers. “Dottie, we didn’t talk about something really important and now I’m freaking the fuck out.” “What did we not talk about?” she calmly asks. “You know that conversation we had awhile back about not having any kids?” “Yesss,” she drags out. I glance around to make sure no one is listening to me, stuff my hand in my pocket and quietly ask, “What about my butt?” Silence. Then . . . “Uh, what about your butt?” “You know . . .” “I really don’t know and I have a meeting in ten minutes, so if you can speed this up, I’d appreciate it.” “Dottie, if we don’t have kids, my butt dies with me.” “Your butt is dying with you either way, unless you have some sort of insane idea that I get your butt molded in gold or something, which although I wouldn’t put that past you, it’s not happening. Is that what you mean? You want to mold your butt and give it to our kids? You know I’m all about weird gifts but that’s just not something you should give your offspring.” “I’m not talking about that, but thanks for the idea, writing that in my will.” I hear her exaggerated breath. “I’m saying if we don’t have kids, I won’t pass my butt genes on to anyone and is that really fair to the human race? To stop my butt here?” “You’re serious?” “Dead serious. The butt can’t end with me. And what about my potato salad recipe? No one will say hey, you know what, I have my grandpa’s potato salad recipe I can make to bring to the barbeque. And that’s sacrilege.

People of God should not forget people trapped in darkness. We must always remember the forgotten people through prayer and through acts of compassion.

The warden came in to say good-bye. He grabbed my hand, shook it, and said with tears in his eyes, "I want to see you again sometime." "Yes," I said, "I would like to come back and see you as well.

Mantis you are my bae and you know it

Hey girl, just so you know, my bae is in charge. So long as you get that, we're totally cool.

Ho tirato fuori una cosa scritta a ventisette anni. Ero un ragazzo insofferente. Non mi stava bene nulla. Tutto era colpa delle vecchie generazioni. Li criticavo, li insultavo... Quando mi dicevano «Accetta le sfide e combatti con passione!», ribattevo forte e chiaro: «Ma voi l’avete costruito, un mondo che ripaga in base a quanto uno lavora con passione?». E ora la vecchia generazione sono io. Se dopo vent'anni il mondo fa schifo come prima, non ho più diritto di criticare gli altri. È colpa mia. Sono io che ho sbagliato. Se il mondo non è un bel posto, non ci sono altri responsabili se non me stesso.