Bk Quotes

I’m going to love her in all the quiet ways, the slow ways, the loud and obnoxious ways.

And isn’t it silly, to love the way someone’s things look like next to yours? Little bits and pieces of a life lived in parallel.

So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my good.

Liberty may be gained, but can never be recovered." (Bk2:8)

Our will is always for our own good, but we do not always see what that is; the people is never corrupted, but it is often deceived..." (Bk2:3)

People get too caught up in how things look instead of how things feel,

Next he grabs a round yellow thing covered in small bumps. It looks like a strange fruit and I half expect him to squeeze it to produce juice. When it reaches shoulder height the small bumps explode, turning into razor-sharp spikes. I duck and roll in BK's direction to avoid getting impaled. "What the hell?" I shout. "You could have warned me! This is the second time in less than five minutes that you've almost killed me.

I like that. Thinking that I’m worth paying attention to. Something ordinary made extraordinary by the person you’re sharing it with.

Leaning on other people doesn't make your achievements any less yours, La La. You can trust me to help you carry the load. You don't have to do all of this alone. I know you can take of yourself. You've been doing that as long as I've known you. But let me hold your hand while you do it, okay?

Luka filled the empty places in my life slowly, carefully, with his easy smile and stupid jokes. He brought me back to myself. And it’s been that way ever since.

Let it be known that telling a woman to relax has never once resulted in said relaxation.

It’s hard to love someone without restraint. To give yourself over to the swell and pull of it without fear of what might happen. I think it’s only natural to hold a part of yourself back and protect what you can.

I want to feel something when I connect with someone. I want sparks. The good kind, you know? I want to laugh and mean it. I want goose bumps. I want to wonder what my date is thinking about and hope it might be me. I want…I want the magic.

Why are you giving these guys your time? Why are you settling for crumbs when you deserve the whole damn cake?

When the whole world tells you you’re silly for wanting the things you want, you start to believe them. You start to think you’re not worth it. That if the things you’re waiting for do exist, they’re not for someone like you.

But that’s the thing about happiness, I guess. You can show whatever you want to the world and not feel a lick of it inside yourself.

It feels like every time I get my hopes up for something good, reality comes out swinging. I don’t know how to be a hopeful person anymore.

SEASONS CHANGE AND SO DO WE

Hyrtacides pummeled his thighs and groaned and bit his lip and said: "O Father Zeus, you, even you, turn out to be a liar." [bk.12]

Long-time listener, first-time caller,” he says over the line. There’s a reluctant grin in his voice. It twists his words up at the edges, just like his smile. “I was hoping you could give me some advice.

I know you came back here because you were looking for your happy. But Evie, you gave me mine while you were looking for yours and I think it's only fair if I try to return the favor.

I'm allowed to want soft, special things.

You keep showing me pieces of yourself that I want to collect like seashells.

You’re not always going to know what the right thing is,” he had said. “When that happens, you continue.

We should remember those who have left us with fondness. Speaking of them keeps their memory alive.

No hello. No how are you. Just, wanna go get a grilled cheese?

Doing less doesn’t make you less.

If kissing him in the snow was magic then this is—this is sugarplum fairies and toffee brittle crunch on top of dark chocolate cupcakes.

But what’s wrong with being a romantic? I can be a confident, independent woman and still want someone to hold my hand. To ask about my day. It’s a good thing to want pas-sion and excitement and care. Attention and affection. I don’t want to settle for anything less than that.

I’m going to love her in all the quiet ways, the slow ways, the loud and obnoxious ways. My heart has been moving steadily in that direction since she fell down the steps of a hardware store, right into my arms.

I'm starting to think I made a mistake. When I taugh you how to love. If you think love means having to sacrifice bits of yourself to make someone else happy. If you are afraid to ask after what you want. Maybe I did something wrong.

He looks like sugar and spice and everything not so nice, sleep rumpled and flushed in my bed.

Distrust yourself, and sleep before you fight, ‘Tis not too late to-morrow to be brave. —John Armstrong, Art of Preserving Health. Bk. iv, 1. 456.   The fight is over when the enemy is down. —Ovid, Tristia. Bk. iii, eleg. 5, 1. 34.

I want goose bumps. I want to be wanted. All this time and I—I haven’t given up. I guess I’m just waiting for it to find me.

Light slanting down across Alode the Cliff illuminated a hundred forests; the irradiated foliage seemed to glow with internal light: bitter lime, intense gray-blue given pointillist fire by scarlet seed-pots, dark umber, black-blue, black-green

There may be plenty of fish in the sea, but most of those fish are bottom-dwellers with weird lanterns hanging off the front of their faces.

He pushes his head into my hand, closing his eyes. “Leaning on other people doesn’t make your achievements any less yours, La La.

There’s a special kind of magic on nights like this, a certain sort of nostalgia when the past intermingles with the present and flirts with the future.

He’s staring at me with a cocky grin kicking up his mouth. Oh, to have the confidence of a young white man.

Moments frozen in time throughout the years, always just for a second or two. But it has always been enough to make me feel like maybe he might want me the same way I’ve always wanted him. More than a friend.

He’s saying a million things with that look, I just can’t hear what they are.

I’ve never been kissed like this before, with the night sky pressing down on me and Luka everywhere else.

I think books are sexy,” she says very seriously. “No one at school has quite lived up to Aragorn yet.

It’s okay to want different things,” she says. “People change. You’re allowed to change. Doing less doesn’t make you less.

I’ve always liked flowers best. They’re pretty, but more resilient than people give them credit for.

I don’t concern myself with the fragile egos of men.

For the hopeless romantics. And the reluctant ones too.

It’s okay if it takes you some time to find it again. And it’s okay if you find it just to lose a bit of it here and there. That’s the beauty of it, yeah? It comes and goes. Not every day is a happy one and it shouldn’t be. It’s in the trying, I think.” I clear the cobwebs out of my throat. “Trying to be happy?” “No.” He shakes his head once. “That doesn’t work. Trying to be happy is like—it’s like telling a flower to bloom.” He crosses his ankles and drags his palm against his stubble. “You can’t make yourself be happy. But you can be open to it. You can trust yourself enough to feel it when you stumble on it.” I

Every day isn’t a fairy tale. We’ve worked hard for our relationship. To build it. To maintain it. I’ve become so many versions of myself and so has he, but we’ve found a way to fall in love with one another over and over again. Every time.

I swear I’ve turned into the tin man since she started sleeping in my house. A bunch of rattling cans, looking around for where the hell my heart got off to.

I want to keep Lucie on the line. I want something different.

But what’s wrong with being a romantic? I can be a confident, independent woman and still want someone to hold my hand. To ask about my day. It’s a good thing to want passion and excitement and care. Attention and affection. I don’t want to settle for anything less than that.

I'm thinking about her, about us, about this. About this tiny café across from her house and all the places we almost met. About the right time, the right place, the right moment. I'm thinking about the way her hand fits in mine, and the way my heart drums out a beat that matches her name. Lu-cie. Lu-cie. Lu-cie.

Why are we slow dancing?” Luka rests his chin on top of my head. “This is how my parents argued,” he confesses quietly, a grin in his voice. “Or I guess, this is how they had big conversations. My dad said he liked to keep my mom close, but I really think he wanted a way to politely restrain her.

But there’s magic too. In between the hard work, there are perfect moments where everything lines up exactly right. What else is that, if not the universe telling me I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be? I’m right next to him, holding his hand.

You look nice,” he says, voice hoarse. “I look like a drowned rat.” “A nice one, though.

Life is tough but so are you. A little salt for a sunset, is the virtue.

I'm not trying to fix anything for you, Lucie. I'm just gonna listen,

Nah, Lucie.” In my dream, he brushes a kiss against my forehead. “I think you’re the magic.

Honey,” her eyes trip back and forth between my own, a sad smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Just because you let yourself love someone, doesn't mean they’re going to leave.

I love when we do this. When he says my name and then I say his. Fond exasperation and gentle amusement in every syllable. A call and response. The chorus to the song I can’t get out of my head.

He didn't kiss her," my grandmother offers from the stove. "When she wanted to be kissed." Charlie leans back in his seat with a heavy, disappointed exhale. "Dude." His eyes are like saucers. "You gotta kiss her when she wants to be kissed.

Swirling soft pinks, in silky drinks. Cotton candy sky and precious winks.

New adventures, new memories. New knowledge, every fall. But seeing you again, was the best of them all.

It’s like the North Pole had a love child with Hogwarts! I want to live here forever!

Aiden looks like a brooding Disney prince in a Carhartt hoodie.

I don’t want to let her go yet. I want to hold on to this feeling for a little longer.

I know you can take care of yourself. You’ve been doing that as long as I’ve known you. But let me hold your hand while you do it, okay?

I know I can be too much, but I think I’m just enough for you. I have no interest in forcing you into anything,” he continues. “But I want you to know that this past month with you has been the very best I’ve ever had. I should have told you that last night, but I was overwhelmed and nervous and everything came out wrong. Arrangement or no, everything I’ve felt with you, everything I’ve said to you—” He shakes his head slightly, that smile finally tripping from his eyes to the curve of his cheeks. I get the barest hint of a dimple before it’s gone again. “It’s been the most honest—the most real thing I’ve ever felt.

he’s tradition and familiarity. He is homemade pop tarts on the first Saturday of the month. He is late-night viewings of Die Hard in the sticky summer heat, both of our phones propped up on our respective coffee tables. He is pizza with extra mushrooms and light sauce, a crust that has to be perfect.

Marker be praised,” said Harmon. And then he added, “Altman be praised.

I collect my frustration like Gabe’s wayward assignments and stack it into something neat and tidy in my chest.

One must attempt with feeling of total devotion to get success in any venture.

Wanted to,” he mumbles. Pink touches the tips of his ears. “I missed—I missed home, and I couldn’t sleep, so I just drove back.

I guess I thought owning a Christmas tree farm would be romantic.

I’ve been thinking about kissing you all week,” I feel him say against my lips. That’s nice. I’ve been thinking about kissing him since I was twenty-three.

It feels like every time I get my hopes up for something good, reality comes out swinging. I don’t know how to be a hopeful person anymore. It’s easier not to be.

I imagine somewhere in this sprawling city, Lucie is smiling. For one night at least.

Lucie laughs, bold and bright. I want to yank out the headphone jack and fill the studio with it.

The worst mark you can recieve is a promise, especially when it is confirmed with an oath; after which every man retires, and gives over all hopes. (referring to Chief Minister of State)

whose mind is not steady doesn’t get happiness either amongst the people or in the loneliness of the jungle. When lonely he longs for company and when in company he yearns for loneliness.

Her eyebrows jump up. She glances at the box in my lap and then back to my face. “You have a pineapple pizza?” I nod, annoyed with myself. “I do.” “You said pineapple on pizza is disgusting.” “It is.” “Then why do you have it?” “Because you said it was your favorite,” I admit. “And I want your favorite to be my favorite.

I need you to date me,” I blurt out. My palms are sweating, my heart is somewhere in my throat, and my stomach has completely removed itself from the conversation. Luka, for his part, doesn’t so much as flinch. He just calmly twirls his fork around and around, collecting the world’s longest spaghetti noodle. “Okay.” He pops his fork into his mouth.

They all agreed, that I could not be produced according to the regular laws of nature; because I was not framed with a capacity of preserving my life, either by swiftness, or climbing of trees, or digging holes in the earth.

No penance is greater than the one done for maintaining peace, no happiness is better than the one received from satisfaction, no disease is more damaging than greed and no Dharma is better than the one having compassion for all.

Do you think I’ll get my magic?” He takes a long time to answer. So long my eyes drift shut and everything around me turns fuzzy and heavy. Purple and blue dance behind my closed eyes and I imagine we’re floating with the stars, my fingers reaching for their golden, cascading light. Somewhere in the hazy in- between, a hand slips under my hair and gently squeezes the back of my neck. His thumb traces the ridges of my spine, and my whole body gets heavier. “Nah, Lucie.” In my dream, he brushes a kiss against my forehead. “I think you’re the magic.

I don’t believe in fate, or kismet, or any rule or reason to the universe and all its random, wonderful, terrible happenings. But I do believe I found Luka when I needed him the most, and I like to think my mom played a part in that. It’s a comfort.

Devotion in faith, sweetness in voice, alacrity in alms-giving, guilelessness in relation with friends, humility for the Guru, depth in character; piety in behaviour, regard for merit, erudition in scriptural knowledge, beauty in appearance and belief in Lord Shiva (or in the welfare of all) are, O Raghav (Lord Rama), your attributes!

It’s okay if it takes you some time to find it again. And it’s okay if you find it just to lose a bit of it here and there. That’s the beauty of it, yeah? It comes and goes. Not every day is a happy one and it shouldn’t be. It’s in the trying, I think.

For The Broken Ones fans... Sneak peek from Broken Prince: "That simple kiss, such an innocent thing, destroyed me. It tore apart the walls I’d built, the rules I’ve lived by, that had been bred into me. It sent my thoughts down paths they should never have gone. Would never have, if not for you." From Broken Prince (Bk 2 of The Broken Ones)

Why can’t I find a single human being that I connect with? My standards are not impossible. I want someone who makes me laugh. Who cares about what I do and what I say and what I think. I want to sit on the couch with someone in blissful, perfect, comfortable silence—pizza on the coffee table and my feet tucked under their thigh. I want someone to hand me the recipe section of the local paper while they read the headlines. I want to share all of my small, silly, silent moments. I want someone to give me butterflies.

I'm not a slut, I just love, love...P!nk.

Yesterday cannot be changed, tomorrow cannot be guaranteed; today is yours.... so believe in today.... Just do it....

Howdy, ma'am. You always talk to yourself?” Velia glanced up into bright eyes, as blue as the flame on a cigarette lighter, belonging to a man standing in front of her desk wearing a cowboy hat tipped back on his head.

When the whole world tells you you’re silly for wanting the things you want, you start to believe them. You start to think you’re not worth it. That if the things you’re waiting for do exist, they’re not for someone like you.” She sighs, a small, hopeless sound that twists through my headphones. “But what’s wrong with being a romantic? I can be a confident, independent woman and still want someone to hold my hand. To ask about my day. It’s a good thing to want passion and excitement and care. Attention and affection. I don’t want to settle for anything less than that.

It is allowed on all hands, that the primitive way of breaking eggs before we eat them, was upon the larger end: but his present Majesty's grand-father, while he was a boy, going to eat an egg, and breaking it according to the ancient practice, happened to cut one of his fingers. Whereupon the emperor his father, published an edict, commanding all his subjects to, upon great penalties, to break the smaller end of their eggs. The people so highly resented this law, that our histories tell us, there have been six rebellions raised on that account; wherein one emperor lost his life, and another his crown.

Once upon a time I thought a relationship meant having shackles on my wrists, binding me to the needs of another person. I thought I’d have to sacrifice the things I’ve wanted most to be half of a whole. But now I know it just means I’ve got a safety net. Someone to lift me up and hold me steady. Someone to nag me about the spare key under my potted plant and someone to cut my grapes into tiny hearts. A partner. A friend.

Whoever can there bring sufficient proof, that he hath strictly observed the laws of his country for seventy-three moons, hath a claim to certain privileges, according to his quality and condition of life, with a proportionable sum of money out of a fund appropriated for that use: he likewise acquires the title of Snilpall, or Legal, which is added to his name, but doth not descent to his posterity. And these people thought it a prodigious defect of policy aoung us, when I told the, that our laws were enforced only by penalities, without any mention of a reward.

Conversation! Supple sentences, with first and second meanings and overtones beyond, outrageous challenges with cleverly planned slip-points, rebuttals of elegant brevity; deceptions and guiles, patient explanations of the obvious, fleeting allusions to the unthinkable. As a preliminary, the conversationalist must gauge the mood, the intelligence and the verbal facility of the company. To this end, a few words of pedantic exposition often prove invaluable.

I have to leave now, but please know i'll be with you always. When you hear meadowlarks in the spring and see geese flying across the field in the fall, think of me. But please don't be sad. I always wanted you to be happy. Remember I will love you always. There were so many things I wanted to do still, so many things left to say to all of you. I wasn't afraid of dying. It was just leaving all of you that was so hard. We can't see beyond, but this much I know: I loved you all so much, and it was heaven having your love in return.