“
Life was messy. Always had been and always would be and that was just the way it was, so why bother complaining? You either did something about it or you didn’t, and then you lived with the choice you made.
”
”
Nicholas Sparks (The Best of Me)
“
My choice is what I choose to do,
And if I'm causing no harm, it shouldn't bother you.
Your choice is who you choose to be,
And if you're causin' no harm, then you're alright with me.
”
”
Ben Harper
“
I'm not telling you what I look like in any detail. I hate those endless descriptions of a heroine's physical attributes... First of all, it's boring. You should be able to imagine me without all the gory details of my hairstyle or the size of my thighs. And second, it really bothers me how in books it seems like the only two choices are perfection or self-hatred. As if readers will only like a character who's ideal - or completely shattered. Give me a break. People have got to be smarter than that.
”
”
E. Lockhart (The Boyfriend List: 15 Guys, 11 Shrink Appointments, 4 Ceramic Frogs and Me, Ruby Oliver (Ruby Oliver, #1))
“
Van Houten,
I’m a good person but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have time – and from what I saw, you have plenty – I was wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I’ve got notes and everything, but if you could just make it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just tell me what I should say differently.
Here’s the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.
I want to leave a mark.
But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, “They’ll remember me now,” but (a) they don’t remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion.
(Okay, maybe I’m not such a shitty writer. But I can’t pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.)
We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic piss, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths. I can’t stop pissing on fire hydrants. I know it’s silly and useless – epically useless in my current state – but I am an animal like any other.
Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth: We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either.
People will say it’s sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it’s not sad, Van Houten. It’s triumphant. It’s heroic. Isn’t that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: First, do no harm.
The real heroes anyway aren’t the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention. The guy who invented the smallpox vaccine didn’t actually invented anything. He just noticed that people with cowpox didn’t get smallpox.
After my PET scan lit up, I snuck into the ICU and saw her while she was unconscious. I just walked in behind a nurse with a badge and I got to sit next to her for like ten minutes before I got caught. I really thought she was going to die, too. It was brutal: the incessant mechanized haranguing of intensive care. She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.
A nurse guy came in and told me I had to leave, that visitors weren’t allowed, and I asked if she was doing okay, and the guy said, “She’s still taking on water.” A desert blessing, an ocean curse.
What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.
”
”
John Green (The Fault in Our Stars)
“
You know it never ceases to amaze me how people twist your words.I used to et it bother me that I was so misunderstood, but now I realise, I can tell a lot about people by what they CHOOSE to see in me
”
”
Karen Gibbs
“
I understand I've made an unusual lifestyle choice. But the label 'crazy' bothers me. Annoys me. Because it prevents response. When someone asks if you're crazy, Knight lamented, you can either say yes, which makes you crazy, or you can say no, which makes you sound defensive, as if you fear that you really are crazy. There's no good answer.
”
”
Michael Finkel (The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit)
“
In reality of everyday occurrences I've had to submit to people in order not to lose them. It's less the submission that bothers me, I guess, than how it makes my life miserable. And what happens if I can't forgive myself for making that choice? And what if, in order to keep on living, I have to continue to accept myself? What am I supposed to do? Conclusion: It'd be best if I'm destroyed. The best thing is for me just to vanish.
”
”
Natsuo Kirino (Real World)
“
Here's the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That's what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.
I want to leave a mark.
But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, "They'll remember me now," but (a) they don't remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion.
...
We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic piss, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths. I can't stop pissing on fire hydrants. I know it's silly and useless--epically useless in my current state--but I am an animal like any other.
Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth: We're as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we're not likely to do either.
People will say it's sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it's not sad, Van Houten. It's triumphant. It's heroic. Isn't that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: First, do no harm.
The real heroes anyway aren't the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention. The guy who invented the smallpox vaccine didn't actually invent anything. He just noticed that people with cowpox didn't get smallpox.
...
But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.
...
What else? She is so beautiful. You don't get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.
”
”
John Green (The Fault in Our Stars)
“
So I had a choice: I could either not do anything for the rest of my life, or I could suck it up and act like it didn't bother me And you know what? If you pretend long enough that it doesn't bother you, pretty soon it actually doesn't.
”
”
Mindy McGinnis (The Female of the Species)
“
Because it was the right thing?"
"Oh shit, I hope not."
"Afraid of becoming noble?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
"That too. But basically, that's the worst reason I can think of for killing. 'That its the right thing to do'. You kill out of outrage or fury or to keep from dying or something like it, that's fine. Hell, kill them rather than bother with them - or be bothered by them. But if you're killing them because 'its the right thing to do', its only the right thing because you've done so many wrong things up until then to make that spot. It's not the right thing to do. It's the best of the last of your choices."
"That's the longest I've ever heard you talk at one time."
"That's because you never ask me about my hair.
”
”
John Steakley (Armor)
“
It bothered me because like most people who have choices, I am not completely comfortable with mine.
”
”
Sheryl Sandberg (Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead)
“
You know this girl.
Her hair is neither long nor short nor light nor dark. She parts it precisely in the middle.
She sits precisely in the middle of the classroom, and when she used to ride the school bus, she sat precisely in the middle of that, too.
She joins clubs, but is never the president of them. Sometimes she is the secretary; usually, just a member. When asked, she has been known to paints sets for the school play.
She always has a date to the dance, but is never anyone’s first choice. In point of fact, she’s nobody’s first choice for anything. Her best friend became her best friend when another girl moved away.
She has a group of girls she eats lunch with every day, but God, how they bore her. Sometimes, when she can’t stand it anymore, she eats in the library instead. Truth be told, she prefers books to people, and the librarian always seems happy to see her.
She knows there are other people who have it worse—she isn’t poor or ugly or friendless or teased. Of course, she’s also aware that the reason no one teases is because no one ever notices her.
This isn’t to say she doesn’t have qualities.
She is pretty, maybe, if anyone would bother to look. And she gets good enough grades. And she doesn’t drink and drive. And she says NO to drugs. And she is always where she says she will be. And she calls when she’s going to be late. And she feels a little, just a little, dead inside.
She thinks, You think you know me, but you don’t.
She thinks, None of you has any idea about all the things in my heart.
She thinks, None of you has any idea how really and truly beautiful I am.
She thinks, See me. See me. See me.
Sometimes she thinks she will scream.
Sometimes she imagines sticking her head in an oven.
But she doesn’t.
She just writes it all down in her journal and waits.
She is waiting for someone to see.
”
”
Gabrielle Zevin (Love Is Hell)
“
Has she accepted you?"
"Not yet.She wants to discuss it with you first."
"Thank God.Because I'll tell her that it's the worst idea I've ever heard."
Leo arched a brow."You doubt I could protect her?"
"I doubt you could keep from murdering each other!I doubt she could ever be happy in such volatile circumstances.I doubt...no,I won't bother listing all my concerns,it would take too bloody long." Harry's eyes were ice-cold. "The answer is no,Ramsay.I'll do what is necessary to take care of Cat.You can return to Hampshire."
"I'm afraid it won't be that easy to get rid of me," Leo said."Perhaps you didn't notice that I haven't asked for your permission.There is no choice.Certain things have happened that can't be undone.Do you understand?"
He saw from Harry's expression that only a few fragile constraints stood between him and certain death.
"You seduced her deliberately," Harry managed to say.
"Would you be happier if I claimed it was an accident?"
"The only thing that would make me happy is to weight you with rocks and toss you into the Thames."
"I understand.I even sympathize.I can't imagine what it would be like to face a man who's compromised your sister,how difficult it would be to keep from murdering him on the spot.Oh, but wait.." Leo tapped a forefinger thoughtfully on his chin. "I can imagine.Because I went through it two bloody months ago."
Harry's eyes narrowed."That wasn't the same.Your sister was still a virgin when I married her."
Leo gave him an unrepenting glance. "When I compromise a woman,I do it properly."
"That does it," Harry muttered, leaping for his throat.
”
”
Lisa Kleypas (Married by Morning (The Hathaways, #4))
“
It was like I'd climbed Everest, had the summit in my sight, the flag in my hand, all ready to pierce it into the top of the mountain and say, "Whoopdedoo, I made it," and then an avalanche from out of nowhere swept me right back to the bottom of the mountain again. Was it worth bothering to try and climb it again? I was exhausted. I'd already climbed it. I didn't want to...but, then, what other choice was there?
”
”
Holly Bourne (Am I Normal Yet? (The Spinster Club, #1))
“
Not long ago, I learned that if I let other people tell me how God was supposed to work in my life I would be dead. If I would have given into someone else’s version of God then I would have done nothing to improve my situation. The notion that “if it was meant to be, it will be”, is a pacifying, yet harmful quote, that many spiritualists use to soften the blow of anger. God is not passive. He is relentless, and he will build you through fire. He will put in your heart a need for answers. The intensity of what bothers your soul is often his voice trying to take you from the limited vision of mankind to the full view of the best life he would like to offer you. He is above any pastor, any bishop, any prophet, any church, any cleverly crafted sermon or multi-meaning verse. He is the master of his craft and the author of your forever. Inner peace is only found through action. Fear may darken the trail, but the light of peace stands at the end of such a journey ----waiting with truth.
”
”
Shannon L. Alder
“
You’re not imposing on me. I don’t mind.”
“I’d really rather not bother you. Really. I’ll just see you tonight.”
“Get dressed. Be ready. I’ll be there in ten.”
With that, he hangs up, giving me no choice in the matter.
”
”
M. Leighton (Down to You (The Bad Boys, #1))
“
My choice is what I choose to do, and if I'm causing no harm, it shouldnt bother you. Your choice is who you choose to be, and if you're causing no harm, it shouldn't bother me.
”
”
Ben Harper
“
Jesus is calling the bluff of the religious. He says, why play this game? Why call me Lord as if you care who I am or what I want when you don't bother really knowing me or doing what I say? And then Jesus tells the story about the builders and their two houses. The homes they build represent their lives--their beliefs, convictions, aspirations, and choices.
Jesus is telling us that there are stable and unstable foundations on which to construct our lives. Regardless of our intentions, it's possible to base our confidence and trust--the very footing of our lives--on what is insecure and faulty. On shifting sand.
”
”
Joshua Harris
“
We’ve all got skeletons, but I’m afraid you might have a whole god damn cemetery. I’m going to go through with your plan, mostly because I don’t know if we have a choice. What really bothers me though, is that my gut feeling tells me that as much as I sense the fight in you, I’m not so sure you’d run away from death. Making plans with someone like you is dangerous.
”
”
Donna Augustine (The Keepers (Alchemy, #1))
“
Is this Molly?” she asked. Gabby didn’t bother to hide her surprise. Living in a small town still took some getting used to. “Yeah. I’m Gabby Holland.” “Nice to meet you. I’m Terri, by the way. What a beautiful dog.” “Thank you.” “We were wondering when you’d get here. You have to get back to work, right?” She grabbed a clipboard. “Let me go ahead and get you set up in a room. You can do the paperwork there. That way, the vet can see you right away. It shouldn’t be long. He’s almost done.” “Great,” Gabby said. “I really appreciate
”
”
Nicholas Sparks (The Choice)
“
Extinction, while sad and scary, doesn't bother me as much as does the suffering of the individuals prior to being wiped out.
”
”
Henriette Mantel (No Kidding: Women Writers on Bypassing Parenthood)
“
It really bothers me how in books it seems like the only two choices are perfection or self-hatred.
”
”
E. Lockhart (The Boyfriend List: 15 Guys, 11 Shrink Appointments, 4 Ceramic Frogs and Me, Ruby Oliver (Ruby Oliver, #1))
“
You’re alive! We’d heard—” Dain reaches for me, and I recoil. “Touch me and I swear to the gods, I’ll cut your fucking hands off and let the quadrant sort you out in the next round of challenges, Dain Aetos.” My words earn more than a couple of gasps, but I don’t give a shit who hears me. “Violence, indeed.” The hint of amusement in Xaden’s tone doesn’t reach his face. “What?” Dain stops dead in his tracks, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “You don’t mean that, Vi.” “I do.” I rest my hands alongside the sheaths at my thighs. “You should take her at her word. In fact…” Xaden doesn’t bother to lower his voice. “If you don’t, I’ll take personal offense. She made her choice, and it wasn’t you. It will never be you. I know it. She knows it. The whole quadrant knows it.
”
”
Rebecca Yarros (Iron Flame (The Empyrean, #2))
“
his dismissiveness cuts. I don't know why it bothers me so much. ..is it that I am already so diminished that without another person's attention or approval I feel I am in danger of disappearing entirely?
”
”
Edith Eger (The Choice: Embrace the Possible)
“
However, we won’t be in the Imperial Sector long. —Seen enough?” And the holograph flickered out. Seldon said, “How much did this cost you?” “What’s the difference?” “It bothers me to be in your debt.” “Don’t worry about it. This is my choice.
”
”
Isaac Asimov (Prelude to Foundation (Foundation, #6))
“
But no matter what I do, it will always get me, bother me, and you know what this is, what gets me, and will continue to get me throughout my existence? It’s that we as humans will never know the results of the other choice. What would have happened if I chose that instead of this? Naturally, the results or consequences would probably be different, perhaps very different. More importantly, would the other option have been the better choice? We will never know. I will never know. And this will always get me.
”
”
Jack Serv (Sagittarius After Breaking)
“
My choice is what I chose to do And if I’m causing no harm, it shouldn’t bother you. Your choice is who you chose to be And if you’re causing no harm, then you’re alright with me. If you don’t like my fire, then don’t come around ‘Cause I’m gonna burn one down. —Ben Harper, “Burn One Down
”
”
Oliver Benjamin (The Tao of the Dude: Awesome Insights of Deep Dudes from Lao Tzu to Lebowski)
“
—A.J.F. What bothers me in a story more than anything is a loose end,” Deputy Doug Lippman says, selecting four mini-quiches from the hors d’oeuvres Lambiase has provided. After many years of hosting the Chief’s Choice Book Club, Lambiase knows that the most important thing, even more than the title at hand, is food and drink.
”
”
Gabrielle Zevin (The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry)
“
My Fellow Non-American Blacks: In America, You Are Black, Baby Dear Non-American Black, when you make the choice to come to America, you become black. Stop arguing. Stop saying I’m Jamaican or I’m Ghanaian. America doesn’t care. So what if you weren’t “black” in your country? You’re in America now. We all have our moments of initiation into the Society of Former Negroes. Mine was in a class in undergrad when I was asked to give the black perspective, only I had no idea what that was. So I just made something up. And admit it—you say “I’m not black” only because you know black is at the bottom of America’s race ladder. And you want none of that. Don’t deny now. What if being black had all the privileges of being white? Would you still say “Don’t call me black, I’m from Trinidad”? I didn’t think so. So you’re black, baby. And here’s the deal with becoming black: You must show that you are offended when such words as “watermelon” or “tar baby” are used in jokes, even if you don’t know what the hell is being talked about—and since you are a Non-American Black, the chances are that you won’t know. (In undergrad a white classmate asks if I like watermelon, I say yes, and another classmate says, Oh my God that is so racist, and I’m confused. “Wait, how?”) You must nod back when a black person nods at you in a heavily white area. It is called the black nod. It is a way for black people to say “You are not alone, I am here too.” In describing black women you admire, always use the word “STRONG” because that is what black women are supposed to be in America. If you are a woman, please do not speak your mind as you are used to doing in your country. Because in America, strong-minded black women are SCARY. And if you are a man, be hyper-mellow, never get too excited, or somebody will worry that you’re about to pull a gun. When you watch television and hear that a “racist slur” was used, you must immediately become offended. Even though you are thinking “But why won’t they tell me exactly what was said?” Even though you would like to be able to decide for yourself how offended to be, or whether to be offended at all, you must nevertheless be very offended. When a crime is reported, pray that it was not committed by a black person, and if it turns out to have been committed by a black person, stay well away from the crime area for weeks, or you might be stopped for fitting the profile. If a black cashier gives poor service to the non-black person in front of you, compliment that person’s shoes or something, to make up for the bad service, because you’re just as guilty for the cashier’s crimes. If you are in an Ivy League college and a Young Republican tells you that you got in only because of Affirmative Action, do not whip out your perfect grades from high school. Instead, gently point out that the biggest beneficiaries of Affirmative Action are white women. If you go to eat in a restaurant, please tip generously. Otherwise the next black person who comes in will get awful service, because waiters groan when they get a black table. You see, black people have a gene that makes them not tip, so please overpower that gene. If you’re telling a non-black person about something racist that happened to you, make sure you are not bitter. Don’t complain. Be forgiving. If possible, make it funny. Most of all, do not be angry. Black people are not supposed to be angry about racism. Otherwise you get no sympathy. This applies only for white liberals, by the way. Don’t even bother telling a white conservative about anything racist that happened to you. Because the conservative will tell you that YOU are the real racist and your mouth will hang open in confusion.
”
”
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Americanah)
“
Life has come to a silent pause,
The fear of Virus, the slowdown,
Disconnecting me from moments,
Heart has taken over the mind,
Light now shines upon my eyes,
Dreams blocked, the roads traversed,
The break has broken the barrier,
Me pondering, was I living my life?
The days are same and so is night,
The Sun, the Moon, and the stars,
still rise in the east and set in the west,
Trees, plants, flowers there as before,
The sky, clouds rivers and oceans,
Earth's precious treasures, no different,
Change is in my perspective n priorities,
Is it that I am learning to live my life.
Monotonous tedium chores,
Unpleasant hunger for wealth,
Most of us are living dead,
Body just awaits the soul to leave,
To be buried or cremated,
Waste of life and for what price,
All material things cherished,
Useless in our last flight.
Time to fall in love with my life,
Stop living for others, their expectations,
I am again the owner of my choices,
Not bothered to please others,
Nor what they think about me,
My dreams are alive and back,
My treasurers are now my deeds,
I have finally learnt to live!!!
”
”
Mukesh Kwatra
“
I’m not telling you what I look like in any detail. I hate those endless descriptions of a heroine’s physical attributes: “She had piercing blue eyes and a heaving milk-white bosom blah blah,” or “She hated her frizzy hair and fat ankles blah blah, blah blah.” First of all, it’s boring. You should be able to imagine me without all the gory details of my hairstyle or the size of my thighs. And second, it really bothers me how in books it seems like the only two choices are perfection or self-hatred. As if readers will only like a character who’s ideal—or completely shattered.
”
”
E. Lockhart (The Boyfriend List: 15 Guys, 11 Shrink Appointments, 4 Ceramic Frogs and Me, Ruby Oliver (Ruby Oliver, #1))
“
Don’t call me an idiot,” I hiss, smiling apologetically at the old couple who are now dividing their attention between us and the carol singers. “I can do what I want and if I want to walk naked through London at three in the morning then I’m going to do it and it’s got nothing to do with you.”
His lips twitch and I know that he’s trying not to smile. “Nell, I will never complain if you want to walk around naked, but you’ve got to know that I’m going to be following you with your coat for when you get cold.”
“Why?” I ask in exasperation. “Why are you so bothered?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I don’t know why, but I am.
”
”
Lily Morton (Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2))
“
Because it was the right thing?"
"Oh shit, I hope not."
"Afraid of becoming noble?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
"That too. But basically, that's the worst reason I can think of for killing. 'That its the right thing to do'. You kill out of outrage or fury or to keep from dying or something like it, that's fine. Hell, kill them rather than bother with them - or be bothered by them. But if you're killing them because 'its the right thing to do', its only the right thing because you've done so many wrong things up until then to make that spot. It's not the right thing to do. It's the best of the last of your choices."
"That's the longest I've ever heard you talk at one time."
"That's because you never ask me about my hair.
”
”
John Steakley (Armor)
“
But you looked away, and seemed to be avoiding looking at Shadow too, so that I immediately began to think about how it had been him who had led me to you, and then about all of his uncanny ways, not least of which is his choice of a creature like you for a master. I patted his head, feeling about for the glamor, as I have never bothered to do before---and why should I; I do not make a habit of looking beneath people's pets to see if there is a monster hiding there---and sure enough, there it was, and when I moved the magic aside, a bloody Black Hound stared back at me, all glowing eyes and glistening fangs.
You looked worried, for some reason, but you calmed down when I started laughing. "Where did you get him?" I said.
"In Scotland," you replied. "He's a Grim. I rescued him from a boggart, who was tormenting him for sport.
”
”
Heather Fawcett (Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries (Emily Wilde, #1))
“
I tried not to think of what had happened to me. Most of the day, I could succeed in that mission. Then, a shock of ice-cold air on the wrong side of my face. The rattle of plastic meal trays against the hard metal counter during breakfast and lunch. Feeling too sad, or feeling surrounded, and I would be back on the roof of the shed, looking down at myself, pathetic and mumbling nonsense. I hated that place. I hated everything in my view, including the ball of rotten nothing called my body curled into itself on the floor. Why didn’t she get up? Why didn’t she go away? She never should have been there at all. Staring down at myself, I admonished her, blamed her, and only spoke enough to say, “Stop bothering me. Stop bringing me back here. We don’t belong to each other anymore. You made the choice to go in there. Now you can stay there.
”
”
Ashley C. Ford (Somebody's Daughter)
“
Eh? How 'bout that?" Bill nudged her. "Did I promise to show you love or did I promise to show you love?"
"Sure,they seem like they're in love." Luce shrugged. "But-"
"But what?Do you have any idea how painful that is? Look at that guy. He makes getting inked look like being caressed by a soft breeze."
Luce squirmed on the branch. "Is that the lesson here? Pain equals love?"
"You tell me," Bill said. "It may surprise you to hear this,but the ladies aren't exactly banging down Bill's door."
"I mean,if I tattooed Daniel's same on my body would that mean I loved him more than I already do?"
"It's a symbol,Luce." Bill let out a raspy sigh. "You're being too literal. Think about it this way: Daniel is the first good-looking boy LuLu has ever seen. Until he washed ashore a few months ago, this girl's whole world was her father and a few fat natives."
"She's Miranda," Luce said, remembering the love story from The Tempest, which she'd read in her tenth-grade Shakespeare seminar.
"How very civilized of you!" Bill pursed his lips with approval. "They are liek Ferdinand and Miranda: The handsome foreigner shipwrecks on her shores-"
"So,of course it was love at first sight for LuLu," Luce murmured. This was what she was afraid of: the same thoughtless,automatic love that had bothered her in Helston.
"Right," Bill said. "She didn't have a choice but to fall for him.But what's interesting here is Daniel. You see, he didn't have to teach her to craft a woven sail, or gain her father's trust by producing a season's worth of fish to cure,or exhibit C"-Bill pointed at the lovers on the beach-"agree to tattoo his whole body according to her local custom.It would have been enough if Daniel had just shown up.LuLu would have loved him anyway."
"He's doing it because-" Luce thought aloud. "Because he wants to earn her love.Because otherwise,he would just be taking advantage of their curse. Because no matter what kind of cycle they're bound to,his love for her is...true.
”
”
Lauren Kate (Passion (Fallen, #3))
“
Why does it bother me to tell people I have health problems? Doesn’t everybody at some point? I suppose that’s the crux right there. For most people, the difference is in the “some point” part. They have a problem. They go to the doctor. Doctor fixes it. Life moves on. It was a small, annoying inconvenience. For me, and likely for you since you’re reading this, your problem is not so temporary. You’ve got it for life, or until science finds a cure, which for some diseases is as likely as winning the lottery when you haven’t even bought a ticket. So we make people nervous. Nobody wants to have a condition that affects their social outings, work choices, family life, and just general day-to-day stuff. Nobody picks that for what they want to be when they grow up. “Oh teacher!” The kindergartener excitedly raises his hand. “When I grow up, I want to have a chronic illness and have people say how strong and courageous I am for enduring it even though I don’t have any choice in the matter! Woo-hoo.” Instead,
”
”
Kimberly Rae (Sick and Tired: Empathy, encouragement, and practical help for those suffering from chronic health problems (Sick & Tired Series Book 1))
“
On our first night, while I was sitting at one of the plastic tables with Heba, watching our kids splashing in the water, a woman approached me.
"I am sorry to bother you," she said. "I just never thought I would ever meet you in real life. My husband is doing to me now what your husband did." I reached for her hand as she continued with less composure. "And I just want to tell you that the mornings when I don't think I can get out of bed, I think of you. You have given me strength and I want to thank you for it."
I had lost count of the women (and some men too) who had approached me with their stories of personal betrayal, their struggles to decide what to tolerate, whether to stay, when and how to leave, how to navigate this sometimes torturous thing called love. I looked over her shoulder, and saw her husband a short distance away, staring at us. He was a handsome man in a bathing suit, watching over a toddler with arm floaties splashing in the water. To any casual observer, they looked like the perfect family. The 2017 me wanted to tell her to run. Run as fast as she could. But I didn't. For whatever reason, this woman had made a choice to stay—a choice she felt was right for her, and I was not one to stand in judgment. "I am with you," I said before we each went back to our children.
”
”
Huma Abedin (Both/And: A Memoir)
“
I am?” “Why are you letting an unemployed man live in your apartment? It’s okay for both husband and wife to work, but not in a casual job! Aren’t you going to get married? What about children? Get a proper job! Fulfill your role as an adult! They’re all going to be on your back now, you know.” “Nobody in the store has ever talked to me like that before.” “That’s because you’re just too far out there. A thirty-six-year-old, single convenience store worker, probably a virgin at that, zealously working every day, shouting at the top of her lungs, full of energy. Yet showing no signs of looking for a proper job. You’re a foreign object. It’s just nobody bothered to tell you because they find you too freaky. They’ve been saying it behind your back, though. And now they’ll start saying it to your face too.” “What?” “People who are considered normal enjoy putting those who aren’t on trial, you know. But if you kick me out now, they’ll judge you even more harshly, so you have no choice but to keep me around.” Shiraha gave a thin laugh. “I always did want revenge, on women who are allowed to become parasites just because they’re women. I always thought to myself that I’d be a parasite one day. That’d show them. And I’m going to be a parasite on you, Furukura, whatever it takes.” I didn’t have a clue what he was going on about. “Well anyway, what about your feed? I put it on to boil, and it should be done now.” “I’ll eat it here. Bring it to me, please.
”
”
Sayaka Murata (Convenience Store Woman)
“
I'm sorry.'
I blinked. 'What do you possibly have to be sorry for?'
'His hands were shaking- as if in the aftermath of that fury at what Keir had called me, what he'd threatened. Perhaps he'd brought me here before heading home in order to have some privacy before his friends could interrupt. 'I shouldn't have let you go. Let you see that part of us. Of me.' I'd never seen him so raw, so... stumbling.
'I'm fine.' I didn't know what to make of what had been done. Both between us and to Keir. But it had been my choice. To play that role, to wear those clothes. To let him touch me. But... I said slowly, 'We knew what tonight would require of us. Please- please don't start protecting me. Not like that.' He knew what I meant. He'd protected me Under the Mountain, but that primal, male rage he'd just shown Keir... A shattered study splattered in paint flashed through my memory.
Rhys rasped. 'I will never- never lock you up, force you to stay behind. But when he threatened you tonight, when he called you...' Whore. That's what they'd called him. For fifty years, they'd hissed it. I'd listened to Lucien spit the words in his face. Rhys released a jagged breath. 'It's hard to shut down my instincts.'
Instincts. Just like... like someone else had instincts to protect, to hide me away. 'Then you should have prepared yourself better,' I snapped. 'You seemed to be going along just fine with it, until Keir said-'
'I will kill anyone who harms you,' Rhys snarled. 'I will kill them, and take a damn long time doing it.' He panted. 'Go ahead. Hate me- despise me for it.'
'You are my friend,' I said, and my voice broke on the word. I hated the tears that slipped down my face. I didn't even know why I was crying. Perhaps for the fact that it had felt real on that throne with him, even for a moment, and... and it likely hadn't been. Not for him. 'You're my friend- and I understand that you're High Lord. I understand that you will defend your true court, and punish threats against it. But I can't... I don't want you to stop telling me things, inviting me to do things, because of the threats against me.'
Darkness rippled, and wings tore from his back. 'I am not him,' Rhys breathed. 'I will never be him, act like him. He locked you up and let you wither, and die.'
'He tried-'
'Stop comparing. Stop comparing me to him.'
The words cut me short. I blinked.
'You think I don't know how stories get written- how this story will be written?' Rhys put his hands on his chest, his face more open, more anguished than I'd seen it. 'I am the dark lord, who stole away the bride of spring. I am a demon, and a nightmare, and I will meet a bad end. He is the golden prince- the hero who will get to keep you as his reward for not dying of stupidity and arrogance.'
The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me. He'd admitted that to me Under the Mountain.
But his words were kindling to my temper, to whatever pit of fear was yawning open inside of me. 'And what about my story?' I hissed. 'What about my reward? What about what I want?'
'What is it that you want, Feyre?'
I had no answer. I didn't know. Not anymore.
'What is it that you want, Feyre?'
I stayed silent.
His laugh was bitter, soft. 'I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure that out one of these days.'
'Perhaps I don't know what I want, but at least I don't hide what I am behind a mask,' I seethed. 'At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes- it's to save your people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your real face? But maybe it's easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them- who would want to bother with that sort of mess?'
He flinched.
The most powerful High Lord in history flinched. And I knew I'd hit hard- and deep.
Too hard. Too deep.
'Rhys,' I said.
”
”
Sarah J. Maas
“
I’ve worn Niki’s pants for two days now. I thought a third day in the same clothes might be pushing it.”
Ian shrugged with indifference. “It might send Derian through the roof, but it doesn’t bother me. Wear what you want to wear.”
Eena wrinkled her nose at him. “Do you really feel that way or are you trying to appear more laissez-faire than Derian?”
“More laissez-faire?”
“Yes. That’s a real word.”
“Two words actually,” he grinned. “Laissez faire et laissez passer, le monde va de lui même!" He coated the words with a heavy French accent. Eena gawked at him.
“Since when do you speak French?”
“I don’t.” Ian chuckled. “But I did do some research in world history the year I followed you around on Earth. Physics was a joke, but history—that I found fascinating.”
Slapping a hand against her chest, Eena exclaimed, “I can’t believe it! Unbeknownst to me, Ian actually studied something in high school other than the library’s collection of sci-fi paperbacks!”
He grimaced at her exaggerated performance before defending his preferred choice of reading material. “Hey, popular literature is a valuable and enlightening form of world history. You would know that if you read a book or two.”
She ignored his reproach and asked with curiosity, “What exactly did you say?”
“In French?”
“Duh, yes.”
“Don’t ‘duh’ me, you could easily have been referring to my remark about enlightening literature. I know the value of a good book is hard for you to comprehend.” He grinned crookedly at her look of offense and then moved into an English translation of his French quote. “Let it do and let it pass, the world goes on by itself.”
“Hmm. And where did that saying come from?”
Ian delivered his answer with a surprisingly straight face. “That is what the French Monarch said when his queen began dressing casually. The French revolution started one week following that famous declaration, right after the queen was beheaded by the rest of the aristocracy in her favorite pair of scroungy jeans.”
“You are such a brazen-tongued liar!
”
”
Richelle E. Goodrich (Eena, The Companionship of the Dragon's Soul (The Harrowbethian Saga #6))
“
What did you hope to get out of killing Win’s doctor?” “Enjoyment.” “No doubt you would have. Win didn’t seem to be enjoying it, however.” “Why is Harrow here?” Kev asked fiercely. “I can answer that one,” Leo said, leaning a shoulder against the wall with casual ease. “Harrow wants to become better acquainted with the Hathaways. Because he and my sister are … close.” Kev abruptly felt a sickening weight in his stomach, as if he’d swallowed a handful of river stones. “What do you mean?” he asked, even though he knew. No man could be exposed to Win and not fall in love with her. “Harrow is a widower,” Leo said. “A decent enough fellow. More attached to his clinic and patients than anything else. But he’s a sophisticated man, widely traveled, and wealthy as the devil. And he’s a collector of beautiful objects. A connoisseur of fine things.” Neither of the other men missed the implication. Win would indeed be an exquisite addition to a collection of fine things. It was difficult to ask the next question, but Kev forced himself to. “Does Win care for him?” “I don’t believe Win knows how much of what she feels for him is gratitude, and how much is true affection.” Leo gave Kev a pointed glance. “And there are still a few unresolved questions she has to answer for herself.” “I’ll talk to her.” “I wouldn’t, if I were you. Not until she cools a bit. She’s rather incensed with you.” “Why?” Kev asked, wondering if she had confided to her brother about the events of the previous night. “Why?” Leo’s mouth twisted. “There’s such a dazzling array of choices, I find myself in a quandary about which one to start with. Putting the subject of this morning aside, what about the fact that you never wrote to her?” “I did,” Kev said indignantly. “One letter,” Leo allowed. “The farm report. She showed it to me, actually. How could one forget the soaring prose you wrote about fertilizing the field near the east gate? I’ll tell you, the part about sheep dung nearly brought a tear to my eye, it was so sentimental and—” “What did she expect me to write about?” Kev demanded. “Don’t bother to explain, my lord,” Cam interceded as Leo opened his mouth. “It’s not the way of the Rom to put our private thoughts on paper.
”
”
Lisa Kleypas (Seduce Me at Sunrise (The Hathaways, #2))
“
Saphira? he asked. Flecks of purple light danced around the interior of the pavilion as she twisted her neck and fixed her eyes upon Eragon’s. Little one? Should I go? I think you must. He pressed his lips together in a rigid line. And what of you? You know I hate to be separated from you, but Nasuada’s arguments are well reasoned. If I can help keep Murtagh and Thorn away by remaining with the Varden, then perhaps I should. His emotions and hers washed between their minds, tidal surges in a shared pool of anger, anticipation, reluctance, and tenderness. From him flowed the anger and reluctance; from her other, gentler sentiments—as rich in scope as his own—that moderated his choleric passion and lent him perspectives he would not otherwise have. Nevertheless, he clung with stubborn insistence to his opposition to Nasuada’s scheme. If you flew me to Farthen Dûr, I would not be gone for as long, meaning Galbatorix would have less of an opportunity to mount a new assault. But his spies would tell him the Varden were vulnerable the moment we left. I do not want to part with you again so soon after Helgrind. Our own desires cannot take precedence over the needs of the Varden, but no, I do not want to part with you either. Still, remember what Oromis said, that the prowess of a dragon and Rider is measured not only by how well they work together but also by how well they can function when apart. We are both mature enough to operate independently of each other, Eragon, however much we may dislike the prospect. You proved that yourself during your trip from Helgrind. Would it bother you fighting with Arya on your back, as Nasuada mentioned? Her I would mind least of all. We have fought together before, and it was she who ferried me across Alagaësia for nigh on twenty years when I was in my egg. You know that, little one. Why pose this question? Are you jealous? What if I am? An amused twinkle lit her sapphire eyes. She flicked her tongue at him. Then it is very sweet of you…. Would you I should stay or go? It is your choice to make, not mine. But it affects us both. Eragon dug at the ground with the tip of his boot. Then he said, If we must participate in this mad scheme, we should do everything we can to help it succeed. Stay, and see if you can keep Nasuada from losing her head over this thrice-blasted plan of hers. Be of good cheer, little one. Run fast, and we shall be reunited in short order. Eragon looked up at Nasuada. “Very well,” he said, “I will go.
”
”
Christopher Paolini (Brisingr)
“
It's funny, you know. We're free. We make choices. We weigh things in our minds, consider everything carefully, use all the tools of logic and education. And in the end, what we mostly do is what we have no choice but to do.
Makes you think, why bother? But you bother because you do, that's why. Because you're a DNA-brand computer running Childhood 1.0 software. They update the software but the changes are always just around the edges.
You have the brain you have, the intelligence, the talents, the strengths and weaknesses you have, from the moment they take you out of the box and throw away the Styrofoam padding.
But you have the fears you picked up along the way. The terrors of age four or six or eight are never suspended, just layered over. The dread I'd felt so recently, a dread that should be so much greater because the facts had been so much more horrible, still could not diminish the impact of memories that had been laid down long years before.
It's that way all through life, I guess. I have a relative who says she still gets depressed every September because in the back of her mind it's time for school to start again. She's my great-aunt. The woman is sixty-seven and still bumming over the first day of school five-plus decades ago.
It's sad in a way because the pleasures of life get old and dated fast. The teenage me doesn't get the jolt the six-year-old me got from a package of Pop Rocks. The me I've become doesn't rush at the memories of the day I skated down a parking ramp however many years ago.
Pleasure fades, gets old, gets thrown out with last year's fad. Fear, guilt, all that stuff stays fresh.
Maybe that's why people get so enraged when someone does something to a kid. Hurt a kid and he hurts forever. Maybe an adult can shake it off. Maybe. But with a kid, you hurt them and it turns them, shapes them, becomes part of the deep, underlying software of their lives. No delete.
I don't know. I don't know much. I feel like I know less all the time. Rate I'm going, by the time I'm twenty-one I won't know a damned thing.
But still I was me. Had no choice, I guess. I don't know, maybe that's bull and I was just feeling sorry for myself. But, bottom line, I dried my eyes, and I pushed my dirty, greasy hair back off my face, and I started off down the road again because whatever I was, whoever I was, however messed up I might be, I wasn't leaving April behind.
Maybe it was all an act programmed into me from the get-go, or maybe it grew up out of some deep-buried fear, I mean maybe at some level I was really just as pathetic as Senna thought I was. Maybe I was a fake. Whatever. Didn't matter.
I was going back to the damned dragon, and then I was getting April out, and everything and everyone else could go screw themselves.
One good thing: For now at least, I was done being scared.
”
”
K.A. Applegate
“
Jackson gaped at her, wondering how this had all turned so terrible wrong. But he knew how. The woman was clearly daft. Bedlam-witted.
And trying to drive him in the same direction. "You can't be serious. Since when do you know anything about investigating people?"
She planted her hands on her hips. "You won't do it, so I must."
God save him, she was the most infuriating, maddening-"How do you propose to manage that?"
She shrugged. "Ask them questions, I suppose. The house party for Oliver's birthday is next week. Lord Devonmont is already coming, and it will be easy to convince Gran to invite my other two. Once they're here, I could try sneaking into their rooms and listening in on their conversations or perhaps bribing their servants-"
"You've lost your bloody mind," he hissed.
Only after she lifted an eyebrow did he realize he'd cursed so foully in front of her. But the woman would turn a sane man into a blithering idiot! The thought of her wandering in and out of men's bedchambers, risking her virtue and her reputation, made his blood run cold.
"You don't seem to understand," she said in a clipped tone, as if speaking to a child. "I have to catch a husband somehow. I need help, and I've nowhere else to turn. Minerva is rarely here, and Gran's matchmaking efforts are as subtle as a sledgehammer. And even if my brothers and their wives could do that sort of work, they're preoccupied with their own affairs. That leaves you, who seem to think that suitors drop from the skies at my whim. If I can't even entice you to help me for money, then I'll have to manage on my own."
Turning on her heel, she headed for the door.
Hell and blazes, she was liable to attempt such an idiotic thing, too. She had some fool notion she was invincible. That's why she spent her time shooting at targets with her brother's friends, blithely unconcerned that her rifle might misfire or a stray bullet hit her by mistake.
The wench did as she pleased, and the men in her family let her. Someone had to curb her insanity, and it looked as if it would have to be him.
"All right!" he called out. "I'll do it."
She halted but didn't turn around. "You'll find out what I need in order to snag one of my choices as a husband?"
"Yes."
"Even if it means being a trifle underhanded?"
He gritted his teeth. This would be pure torture. The underhandedness didn't bother him; he'd be as underhanded as necessary to get rid of those damned suitors. But he'd have to be around the too-tempting wench a great deal, if only to make sure the bastards didn't compromise her.
Well, he'd just have to find something to send her running the other way. She wanted facts? By thunder, he'd give her enough damning facts to blacken her suitors thoroughly.
Then what?
If you know of some eligible gentleman you can strong-arm into courting me, then by all means, tell me. I'm open to suggestions.
All right, so he had no one to suggest. But he couldn't let her marry any of her ridiculous choices. They would make her miserable-he was sure of it. He must make her see that she was courting disaster.
Then he'd find someone more eligible for her. Somehow.
She faced him. "Well?"
"Yes," he said, suppressing a curse. "I'll do whatever you want."
A disbelieving laugh escaped her. "That I'd like to see." When he scowled, she added hastily, "But thank you. Truly. And I'm happy to pay you extra for your efforts, as I said."
He stiffened. "No need."
"Nonsense," she said firmly. "It will be worth it to have your discretion."
His scowl deepened. "My clients always have my discretion.
”
”
Sabrina Jeffries (A Lady Never Surrenders (Hellions of Halstead Hall, #5))
“
What bothered me was having no other choice but to work with people who were always drunk and hungry for meat. They'd give such looks ... I wouldn't call it animalistic because that in itself would still be natural ... This was something beneath that ... a bestiality fed by cruelty, hypocrisy, and deceit ...
”
”
Sabahattin Ali
“
I’m aware that I might be waiting for you in vain,” I admitted, “but … that choice to wait, that decision to not bother searching for a replacement, it’s something no one can take away from me. Not even you.
”
”
Rachel Jonas (Dark Side of the Moon (The Lost Royals Saga, #2))
“
Up until a few years ago, I'd never had any doubts about newspaper work, never thought I'd made the wrong choice. I went into the business not because I was looking to get beat up or training to be a novelist, because I wanted to be Bob Woodward or Sy Hersh, kicking butt on the front page. Reality slowly set in and I realized that I wasn't destined for Washington or New York or even Miami, but still there were good stories; good days when I brought grief and misery and the occasional felony indictment on lowlifes such as Orrin Van Gelder. I believed the job was important, a public service, and as a bonus it was unfailingly entertaining. Every new story was a fresh education in human guile and gullibility. The headlines made a large splash in a small pond, but the ripples didn't last long. That didn't bother me either, because usually I was already caught up in something new. It's the best job in the business, chasing crooks in Florida, because the well never runs dry.
”
”
Carl Hiaasen (Basket Case)
“
There has to be another way,” Kathleen insisted.
“If there were, I’d have found it.” She knew nothing of all the sleepless nights and exhausting days he’d spent searching for alternatives. There was no good solution, only a choice between several bad solutions, and this was the least harmful.
Kathleen stared at him as if she’d just caught him snatching a crust of bread from an orphan. “But--”
“Don’t press me on this,” Devon snapped, losing his patience. “It’s difficult enough without a display of adolescent drama.”
Kathleen’s face went white. Without another word, she turned and strode from the library.
West sighed and glanced at Devon. “Well done. Why bother reasoning with her when you can simply crush her into submission?”
Before Devon could reply, his brother had left to follow Kathleen.
”
”
Lisa Kleypas (Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels, #1))
“
As my daughter nursed, I ran my hands over her tiny legs and silken cheeks, marveling at the mystery of such a small creature, the fact that inside her head, a world was awakening. Looking at her blue-green eyes and fuzz-dusting of blond hair was like waiting for a picture to come more fully into focus. So far, little had been imprinted on her but each moment, even right now, was shaping who she would become. It felt too late for me, but was I going to offer her words that would stick in my mouth as I tried to say them? Orthodoxy, or at least our small corner of it, had continued to evolve, changes forged by women I admired. Maybe my daughter wouldn't have to feel the inequalities and the constraints as viscerally as I did. But even then, would I have to teach her the tactics I used to remain inside? Don't say what you really think. Don't name what you really feel. It's not what it sounds like. It's not what it really means. I didn't want her to feel that she had to tuck away any dissenting part of herself. I didn't want her to feel that the only choice was to live with an endless sense of obligation and contradiction. Try not to be bothered by things that make you seethe. Try not to feel exhausted from walking against an ever-present tide, the current pulling your body, the sand slipping away beneath your feet.
”
”
Tova Mirvis (The Book of Separation)
“
On my first day I realized why investment bankers make a lot of money: They work longer and more controlled hours than I knew humans could handle. Actually, most can’t handle it. Going home before midnight was considered a luxury, and there was a saying in the office: “If you don’t come to work on Saturday, don’t bother coming back on Sunday.” The job was intellectually stimulating, paid well, and made me feel important. But every waking second of my time became a slave to my boss’s demands, which was enough to turn it into one of the most miserable experiences of my life. It was a four-month internship. I lasted a month. The hardest thing about this was that I loved the work. And I wanted to work hard. But doing something you love on a schedule you can’t control can feel the same as doing something you hate. There is a name for this feeling. Psychologists call it reactance. Jonah Berger, a marketing professor at the University of Pennsylvania, summed it up well: People like to feel like they’re in control—in the drivers’ seat. When we try to get them to do something, they feel disempowered. Rather than feeling like they made the choice, they feel like we made it for them. So they say no or do something else, even when they might have originally been happy to go along.25 When you accept how true that statement is, you realize that aligning money towards a life that lets you do what you want, when you want, with who you want, where you want, for as long as you want, has incredible return.
”
”
Morgan Housel (The Psychology of Money)
“
Catalina:
I need your help. I don’t have anyone else I can ask.
I was sitting at my desk in my room trying to work on a Numerology assignment but since that message had come through, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else. Because it came down to this – was I going to help Mommy Acrux with her little problem?
I hadn’t even replied yet so I had no idea what she wanted my help with, but I needed to make a decision before I did. Did I trust her? And how far was I willing to go for her?
I tapped my pen against my lips as I wondered. Catalina had been messaging me every day since we’d swapped numbers. She gave me information on Lionel and Clara’s comings and goings and revealed anything they’d let slip but there hadn’t been a single, solid thing that she’d told me which would make any real difference to us. I understood that Lionel kept her out of his plans, but still, she hadn’t exactly given me any irrefutable evidence that she was actually on my side.
...
I reached out and took a biscuit from the little stand and devoured it in two bites as Catalina watched me. It was fucking delicious. Going hungry in the mortal world had definitely left me with a taste for good food and there was no way I’d be letting those little treats go to waste.
“Have you seen much of Darius?” she asked and I stilled. We talked a lot via text, but there was an unspoken rule that we didn’t discuss him, and I would have preferred to stick to it.
“Every day,” I admitted. “Meals, classes, the common room. It’s kinda like getting punched in the heart every other hour.”
I wasn’t really sure why I’d admitted to that and I looked away from her before she could get a read on the pain it caused me. Because I didn’t have a right to be hurting over it, did I? It had been my choice that put us in this position after all.
The door opened before she could push me on the subject and I looked around with a smile as Xavier stepped into the room.
He fell still as he spotted me. His dark hair was a mess, he was barefoot and the grey sweatpants he wore had a stain on the leg. He was also shirtless which gave me a look at the lean muscle lining his frame and the defined V which dipped beneath his waistband.
“Well shit, Xavier, have you spent the last two months working out or something?” I teased and a faint blush lined his cheeks as he stared between me and his mother.
“What…why are you here?” he asked, not seeming to know if he should be pleased to see me or not.
She seemed to be waiting for me to make the move though so I beckoned Xavier closer and pointed to the chair beside me.
He approached, his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he lowered himself into the seat and pushed a hand through his hair self consciously.
“Did I interrupt your nap?” I teased.
“No. I just…didn’t really expect to see anyone today so I didn’t exactly bother getting dressed.” There was a hollow tone to his voice which made me frown and my heart twisted painfully as I wondered how many days he spent alone like that.
(Tory POV)
”
”
Caroline Peckham (Cursed Fates (Zodiac Academy, #5))
“
Caleb’s eyes twinkled with amusement and he caught my cheek in his large hand, kissing me again. There wasn’t as much heat in it but it still made me feel a little weak at the knees. Maybe making nice with one of the Heirs wasn’t the worst choice I’d ever made.
“Caleb?” a harsh voice came from the doorway beside us and fear darted through me as I pulled away from Caleb in surprise.
Darius stood in the hall, the vine which had secured the door burned to a crisp on the ground from his magic. He was scowling at the two of us and seemed even more intimidating than usual. His gaze took in the cards and poker chips all over the floor alongside the less than perfect state of my hair and I was endlessly grateful that he hadn’t turned up five minutes ago.
Caleb didn’t release his hold on me but turned to look at the other Heir with a hint of irritation in his gaze.
“I’m busy,” he said flatly, a clear demand for Darius to leave.
“My father and the other Councillors want to speak to all of the Heirs before we leave. They sent me to look for you,” Darius said, ignoring his friend’s irritation. “Your sister and Lance are already waiting outside for you,” he added to me, his tone dismissive.
Caleb sighed and turned back to look at me but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Darius. He looked my way, meeting my eyes and I almost flinched from the anger I found there.
“I haven’t finished yet,” Caleb said, his eyes roaming over me but I was still trapped in Darius’s gaze.
“Well stop playing with your food and get on with it,” Darius demanded.
Caleb growled in response to the command but he leaned in to brush his mouth against my neck. I didn’t bother to try and fight him off but I released my hold on his shirt so I was no longer pulling him towards me.
“We can pick this up later, sweetheart,” Caleb murmured. “But I need my strength if I’ve gotta face the Councillors.” His teeth slid into my neck, and his hand pushed into my hair as he held me in place.
The strange sucking sensation pulled at my gut as he tapped into the well of power that lay within me, drawing it into himself.
Darius’s gaze stayed fixed on us the entire time and I couldn’t help but look back at him. His eyes were like two burning pits of rage and I wondered briefly if Caleb was breaking some rule of theirs by being less than awful to me.
Caleb withdrew his fangs from my skin and brushed his fingers over the wound, healing it for me. I looked up at him in surprise and he smiled ruefully.
“See you downstairs, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning forward like he was going to kiss me again.
I ducked aside with a taunting grin. “Not if I see you first,” I warned playfully.
He chuckled darkly. “I look forward to catching you again then.”
Caleb moved to join Darius and the two of them turned and walked away down the corridor without another glance at me.
“What the hell was that about?” Darius asked him in an undertone.
“Lighten up, Darius. We were just playing a game. And you have to admit I got a damn hot prize for winning it.”
Darius grunted in response and the two of them turned a corner, leaving me alone.
(tory)
”
”
Caroline Peckham (Ruthless Fae (Zodiac Academy, #2))
“
I turned the other way and headed back towards the stairs to find Darcy and get the hell away from the Acrux Manor. Hooking up with Caleb Altair had not been on my list of things to do tonight but it hadn’t been the worst thing I’d ever done either.
I tried to wipe the smirk from my face as I remembered the way his hands had felt on my body and navigated my way back through the sprawling manor. The place was seriously massive and I hadn’t realised quite how far I’d run in my bid to escape from Caleb. I took a few wrong turns before finally finding the stairs and heading down to the huge door that led outside.
Darcy and Orion were standing out on the gravel drive, looking in opposite directions to each other.
“Hey,” I called as I moved to join them, wrapping my arms around myself against the chill of the evening.
Darcy glanced at Orion then hurried toward me with a taut expression. I raised a questioning eyebrow at her and her cheeks heated a little in response.
“Where have you been?” she asked, eyeing my hair with her mystical twin senses tingling.
“Oh, I erm-”
“With who?” she demanded, her eyes widening.
I glanced at Orion awkwardly and he rolled his eyes before stalking away from us further down the drive.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said as Darcy waited for her answer expectantly. “Seriously, it was just a bit of fun.”
“Well I’m guessing this bit of fun has a name,” she teased.
I sighed in defeat, ready to admit to yet another Tory’s bad choice in men moment. “Caleb.”
Orion turned to look back at me with a raised eyebrow and I cursed his damn Vampire ears. I should have realised he’d still be listening in. Nosey asshole.
“But Tory, he’s an Heir!”Darcy spluttered before she could stop herself.
I dropped my eyes guiltily and she quickly reined in the saucer eyes and battered down the judgement.
“I mean, I get it, he’s stupidly hot and everything,” she hedged quickly. “I’m just worried about you. What if he’s up to something?”
I snorted a laugh. “Don’t worry about it Darcy, I’m not falling for him. It was just a mutually beneficial moment of madness.”
“Okay, good,” she said with relief. Then her eyes sparkled with mischief as she dropped her voice. “So how was it?”
Orion cleared his throat and I scowled at him.
“I’ll tell you later when there are less nosey Vampires using their bat ears around us,” I said.
Darcy giggled in response, looking over at Orion who didn’t even bother to pretend he hadn’t been listening to us.
(tory)
”
”
Caroline Peckham (Ruthless Fae (Zodiac Academy, #2))
“
At four years old, this boy could not yet have an agenda to be rude. He was merely living true to his innately serious and reflective nature. These are some of the messages he might take from the demand to engage socially before he’s ready: “I need to please others to be loved. I need to change my nature to accommodate others. I need to do what others want me to do so they can be comfortable, even if it makes me uncomfortable.” Teaching this boy that he needed to live contrary to his true nature was hurtful to him—even though the skill being taught was supposed to contribute to his later success. Here’s the trick: Teaching him this skill would probably create the opposite effect by causing him to withdraw even more! In fact, the adults I’ve worked with who still can’t look people in the eye are most often those who were shamed about who they were as children. By allowing her son to just be in a new space in his own way, this mother will communicate that he is more important to her than the potential reactions of other people. She will actually help him develop more self-confidence to interact by expressing her own trust in him that he can make the choice when he feels ready. Do not misunderstand this example. I am not saying that we should allow children to do whatever they want, whenever they feel like it. I am not saying that we shouldn’t bother teaching our children social skills or appropriate boundaries. As parents, we have an extraordinary responsibility to guide and to teach. What I am saying is that we need to reevaluate the expectations behind our guidance and our teaching. Why do we really place certain expectations on our children, especially in social situations? How much do our expectations serve our parental egos, and how much do they honor our children’s specific needs? Do we want to look like good parents—or do we want to actually be good parents?
”
”
Carol Tuttle (The Child Whisperer: The Ultimate Handbook for Raising Happy, Successful, Cooperative Children)
“
You want me to come or not? I’m just as happy to chill at home.” Benji put his hands up. “All right, all right. Please come. Break all the beautiful ladies’ hearts when you turn them down, then let us pick up the pieces. I don’t care if I’m second choice. Your name is quickly forgotten once I get them alone.”
“Don’t worry. Your name might be forgotten, but they never bother to learn his.
”
”
Siena Trap (Scoring the Princess (The Remington Royals, #1))
“
Because the priests say that God created our souls, and that just puts us under the control of another puppeteer. If God created our will, then he’s responsible for every choice we make. God, our genes, our environment, or some stupid programmer keying in code at an ancient terminal—there’s no way free will can ever exist if we as individuals are the result of some external cause.” “So—as I recall, the official philosophical answer is that free will doesn’t exist. Only the illusion of free will, because the causes of our behavior are so complex that we can’t trace them back. If you’ve got one line of dominoes knocking each other down one by one, then you can always say, Look, this domino fell because that one pushed it. But when you have an infinite number of dominoes that can be traced back in an infinite number of directions, you can never find where the causal chain begins. So you think, That domino fell because it wanted to.” “Bobagem,” said Miro. “Well, I admit that it’s a philosophy with no practical value,” said Ender. “Valentine once explained it to me this way. Even if there is no such thing as free will, we have to treat each other as if there were free will in order to live together in society. Because otherwise, every time somebody does something terrible, you can’t punish him, because he can’t help it, because his genes or his environment or God made him do it, and every time somebody does something good, you can’t honor him, because he was a puppet, too. If you think that everybody around you is a puppet, why bother talking to them at all? Why even try to plan anything or create anything, since everything you plan or create or desire or dream of is just acting out the script your puppeteer built into you.” “Despair,” said Miro. “So we conceive of ourselves and everyone around us as volitional beings. We treat everyone as if they did things with a purpose in mind, instead of because they’re being pushed from behind. We punish criminals. We reward altruists. We plan things and build things together. We make promises and expect each other to keep them. It’s all a made-up story, but when everybody believes that everybody’s actions are the result of free choice, and takes and gives responsibility accordingly, the result is civilization.” “Just a story.
”
”
Orson Scott Card (Xenocide (Ender's Saga #3))
“
The sexuality of the character I played in Dog Day Afternoon is a complex thing. What I interpreted from the screenplay was that he is a man with a wife and kids who also happens to be in an affair with a person who identifies as a woman, and who today we would understand is transgender. But knowing this about him didn’t excite me or bother me; it didn’t make the role seem any more appealing or risky. Though I may be a kid who started in the South Bronx, I had been living in the Village since my teens. I had friends, roommates, and colleagues who were attracted to different people than I was attracted to, and none of that was ever rebellious or groundbreaking or unusual. It just was.
Perhaps at the time of Dog Day Afternoon it was an uncommon thing to have a main character in a Hollywood movie who was gay or queer, and who was treated as heroic or worthy of an audience’s affection—even if he did rob banks. But you have to understand that none of that enters into my consideration. I am an actor portraying a character in a film. I am playing the part because I think I can bring something to the role. As far as I was concerned, Dog Day Afternoon was just cool, a continuation of the work I had been doing my whole life. It was inevitable that an audience would have certain feelings about me because of the choices I made, and the slings and arrows were going to keep coming either way. I try to stay away from things that are controversial, and I find myself in controversies anyway. If people think that I helped to advance a particular issue of representation, that’s fine. If there is credit or blame to go around, I don’t feel entitled to any of it. All I know is, I play a role to find as much humanity as there is that I can portray.
”
”
Al Pacino (Sonny Boy)
“
I need to do something about college, but I’m not sure what.”
“Where have you decided to apply?”
“Nowhere yet. Any time I think about the schools I’ve visited, I feel overwhelmed. The campuses are so big that I know I’ll get lost. I dread making new friends. And the professors acted too busy to deal with someone like me. My parents will be wasting a huge amount of money.”
“Your fears are no different than most high school seniors.” He studied me thoughtfully. “Must you go to college?”
I opened my mouth to say Of course, I must—and then shut it again. The concept didn’t bother me nearly as much as it should have. Skipping college would be crazy. Right? It was hard enough for a disabled person to find a job, but being disabled with no degree would make it hopeless. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Perhaps you have more choices than you realize.
”
”
Elizabeth Langston (Wishing for You (I Wish, #2))
“
We must send Daisy to London as soon as possible,” Lillian fretted. “It’s the height of the season, and she’s buried in Hampshire away from all the balls and soirées—”
“It was her choice to come here,” Marcus reminded her, reaching for her other foot. “She would never forgive herself if she missed the baby’s birth.”
“Oh, bother that. I would rather Daisy miss the birth and meet eligible men instead of having to wait here with me until her time runs out and she has to marry Matthew Swift and move with him to New York and then I’ll never see her again—”
“I’ve already thought of that,” Marcus said. “Which is why I undertook to invite a number of eligible men to Stony Cross Park for the stag-and-hind hunt.”
“You did?” Her head lifted from the pillow.
“St. Vincent and I came up with a list and debated the merits of each candidate at length. We settled on an even dozen. Any one of them would do for your sister.”
“Oh, Marcus, you are the most clever, most wonderful—”
He waved away the praise and shook his head with a grin, remembering the lively arguments. “St. Vincent is damned finicky, let me tell you. If he were a woman, no man would be good enough for him.”
“They never are,” Lillian told him impudently. “Which is why we women have a saying…‘Aim high, then settle.’”
He snorted. “Is that what you did?”
A smile curved her lips. “No, my lord. I aimed high and got far more than I’d bargained for.”
And she giggled as he crawled over her prone body and kissed her soundly.
”
”
Lisa Kleypas (Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers, #4))
“
I don’t suppose you’d care to explain the we-don’t-have-a-choice aspect to Naomi?” Javier rejoined sarcastically.
“Why bother? She’s bound and determined to fight her beast and in turn, her shifter nature. I say let her.”
Incredulity marked Javier’s expression. “Isn’t that counterproductive to your, make that our, goal?”
“No, it is simple biology,” Ethan explained. “She will eventually come to us. Keep in mind, the longer she denies the pull to mate, the harder the desire to claim us will ride her.”
“That sounds kind of callous,” Javier remarked. “I’m surprised. I expected more of you.”
“You didn’t let me explain what my plan was while she fought her nature. I plan to stay glued to her side, apart from practices and games, of course. I will get to know her, and in turn, she will come to know me. Befriend her, in other words, and if I’m lucky, perhaps she’ll even come to love me. I know I’m already half way there.”
A romantic like his father, Ethan believed in love at first sight despite his more pragmatic friend’s comments.
Javier snorted. “Gods, don’t let the opposing team ever hear you yapping like a woman. For a giant bear, you’re awfully sentimental.”
A dark look shot Javier’s way made his feline friend grin. Ethan growled. “You are lucky I am holding her, or I’d make you swallow your words.”
“Down Smokey,” Javier joked. “Actually, your plan is a good one. She is most definitely intriguing, and if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives with her, then I guess becoming her friend before her lover is a good start. But I warn you, if she insists on sex, I will sacrifice myself for the greater good to please her.”
“Whatever,” Ethan scoffed. “You might be the oral master, but I will still always have the bigger cock.”
And with that parting shot, Ethan stood with his precious burden and lumbered upstairs to find her bedroom.
”
”
Eve Langlais (Delicate Freakn' Flower (Freakn' Shifters, #1))
“
A shadow passed over me, then Saadi lay down beside me.
“You won,” he said.
“You let me.”
There was a silence--he hadn’t expected me to know. Then I heard the grass rustle as he shrugged. “You’re right. I did.”
Laughing at his candor, I sat up and looked at him. He was relaxing with his arms behind his head, his bronze hair damp and sticking to his forehead.
“Why did you let me win? You know that means I don’t have to spend any more time with you.”
He propped himself up on his elbows, perusing my face. “That doesn’t bother me.”
I frowned. Did he no longer desire my company?
“I never wanted to force you to spend time with me, Shaselle. I wanted you to want to spend time with me.”
“You’re a poet,” I joked, amused by his graceless word choice, and he grinned.
“Besides, a victory is a victory. You won and now have the best of everything--you get your father’s horse, and you can be rid of me if you want.”
With a mischievous glint in my eye, I put my hands on the ground on either side of his waist. “I would have won, anyway.”
He chuckled, once more lying down flat. “You’re shameless.”
I rolled back to my original position, and we both quieted, but there was an aspect of my victory that still bothered me.
“Tell me, why did it matter to you who won? I mean, even if you’d won, you still could have released me from the bargain. You could have said I didn’t have to spend those two days with you.”
“I could have,” he acknowledged. “But after…after you told me about your father, I wanted you to have his horse back. Rava should have had more respect for his memory. She shouldn’t have taken him--them--away.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I swallowed several times to loosen my throat. What a stupid reaction.
“Thank you,” I murmured, and I felt his hand close around mine, giving it a squeeze. I sighed contentedly, letting myself enjoy the moment.
”
”
Cayla Kluver (Sacrifice (Legacy, #3))
“
I have absolutely no problem with anyone's life choices. What bothers me greatly is, when they try to force those life choices on others, in any manner.
”
”
Shon Mehta
“
Emma, dear, if you don’t know why it bothered Davis, then you haven’t seen the way he watches you. I think Davis must have been a bit jealous.” “Jealous?” She shook her head furiously. “Oh, no, you’re mistaken. Davis and I married because I basically had no choice. He doesn’t feel anything for me but friendship.” “Well, don’t be so sure of that. Just give it time. You’ve been sick almost since you got married.
”
”
Callie Hutton (Emma's Journey)
“
I was hoping to talk to you, Nic.” Oh? “You have to do something about that dog.” Oh. “Tiger?” “What other dog roams this town at will and always manages to get in my way? This must be the last town in America not to have leash laws on the books.” “Actually, I agree with you about that. It’s not safe for the animals, and it’s something Eternity Springs will need to address once we have more visitors to town. What did he do now?” “I had a breakfast meeting at the Mocha Moose this morning. He was sitting at the door when I left, and he followed me back here. He’s been hanging around all day. You were supposed to find a home for him. That was the deal, was it not?” “Yes, and I’m still trying.” She licked her lips, then offered a smile just shy of sheepish. “Dale Parker has agreed to consider taking him.” Gabe jerked his stare away from her mouth as he asked, “So why is he underfoot every time I turn around?” “I explained that to you before. He’s adopted you.” “He’s a dog. It’s not his choice!” “Oh, for crying out loud,” Sage said. “Give it up, Callahan. I saw you slip that dog a hunk of your sandwich earlier. Way to chase him away.” Gabe didn’t bother defending himself, but watched Nic for a long minute before asking, “And where might I find Dale Parker?” “He owns the Fill-U-Up.” “That grumpy old son of a gun? No wonder the mutt has taken to hiding out with me. Is he the best you could do?” She watched it register on his face the moment he realized the mistake. Nic decided to take pity on him, mostly because her embarrassment lingered and she needed distance. “Where’s Tiger now?” “Here, at the foot of the stairs.” “He can stay with us.” She lifted her voice and called, “Tiger? Here, boy. C’mere, boy.” Four paws’ worth of nails clicked against the wooden floor. The boxer paused in the doorway and rubbed up against Gabe’s legs. “Awww,” Sage crooned as Sarah said, “He’s so cute. Gabe is right. He’s too sweet to hang with Dale Parker.” Nic dropped her hand and wiggled her fingers. Reluctantly the boxer approached. “You willing to take him home, Sarah?” “I can’t. Daisy and Duke are all I can handle. You know that.” She referred to the three-year-old golden retrievers who refused to leave the puppy stage behind. Nic scratched the boxer behind the ears and said, “What about you, big guy? Wanna watch the basketball game with us?” When the boxer climbed up on her knees and licked her face, she smiled and looped a finger through his leather collar. “We’ve got him. Sorry for the trouble, Callahan.” Gabe nodded, then glanced at the television and fired a parting shot. “You do know that Coach Romano has a twin brother who coaches at Southern Cal, don’t you?” Seated
”
”
Emily March (Angel's Rest (Eternity Springs, #1))
“
You pick and choose who gets rescued and who doesn’t?” “Yes,” Bat Lady said. “Take Candy, for example.” That surprised me. “You know about Candy?” She didn’t bother replying. “If we had chosen to help her, the odds are that Candy would have ended up no better off. She has no skills, not much intelligence, and would never be able to be mainstreamed into school or society. She would probably have ended up back with Buddy Ray or someone similar.” “You can’t know that,” I said. “Of course you can’t know. But you play the odds. You save who you can and you mourn those you can’t. When you follow this calling, your heart gets ripped apart every day. You make the world better in increments, not grand designs. You make choices. Do you understand?” “Choices,” I said. “Yes.” “Like my father made a choice to leave the Abeona Shelter. Like my father didn’t want this life for me.” “Exactly, he made a choice.” Bat Lady looked up at me and tilted her head. “How did that work out for him?” I said nothing. “With
”
”
Harlan Coben (Shelter (Micky Bolitar, #1))
“
Are you all right, Vanni?” he asked. “Hmm, just a little melancholy, that’s all.” “It’s hard to tell what’s bothering you most—Midge’s passing or some problem you’re having with Paul.” She turned to look at him and he said, “Anything you want to talk about?” She shrugged. “There’s not too much to talk about, Dad.” “You could help me understand a couple of things, you know.” “For instance?” “Oh, don’t be coy—you stood Paul up to go away with the doctor and if I know anything about you, you’re not that interested in the doctor. Hell, you’ve been in a strange mood since Paul left after Mattie was born. You knew Paul was coming for the weekend—and despite his best efforts to be circumspect, you knew he was coming for you.” “I wasn’t so sure about that.” “I heard you fight with him, Vanni. Did you and Paul have some kind of falling-out?” “Not exactly, Dad.” Walt took a breath. “Vanessa, I don’t mean to pry, but it’s pretty apparent to me how you feel about Paul. And how Paul feels about you. And yet…” “Dad, while Paul was here last autumn, we got a lot closer. We were good friends before, but of course with all we went through together… Dad, before all that happened, Paul had a life in Grants Pass. One that’s not so easily left behind.” “Vanni, Paul loves you, but something happened between you recently…” “He let me know—there are complications in Grants Pass. Something he’s been struggling with. It’s kept him from being honest about his feelings,” she said. “He has commitments, Dad.” “A woman?” Walt asked. Vanni laughed softly. “We shouldn’t be so surprised that Paul actually had women in his life, should we? Yes, apparently there was a woman. Is a woman…” “Jesus,” Walt said under his breath. “He’s not married, is he?” “Of course not. He wouldn’t keep something like that from us.” “Engaged?” “He says there’s enough of an entanglement there to make his position difficult. That’s why he wasn’t around after Mattie was born.” Walt drove in silence for a while and Vanni resumed gazing out the window. After a few moments of silence Walt asked, “What about you, Vanni? I know you care about him.” “Dad, Matt’s only been gone a few months. Should I even have such feelings? Should I be completely embarrassed? I’ll miss him forever, but I—” “Please don’t do that to yourself, honey,” he said. “Haven’t we learned by now? Life is too short to suffer needlessly.” “Will people say I—” “I don’t give a good goddamn what people say,” he growled. “Everyone is entitled to a little happiness, wherever that is. And I think for you, it’s with Paul.” She sighed and said, “I’m asking myself why I thought I had some claim on him. He was very good to us all, I’m so grateful—but why didn’t I realize that a man like Paul wouldn’t have any trouble attracting the attention—the love—of a woman? I’ve been so angry with him for not telling me, but… Why didn’t I ask?” “Now what, Vanni? Is he trying to make a choice, is that it?” “We were having a discussion, not a very pleasant one, right when the call came from Shelby. It left his intentions up in the air a bit. But there’s one thing I won’t do, I can’t do—I can’t ask Paul to choose me over a woman he has an obligation to. I tried to make it very clear, his duty to me as his best friend’s widow has expired. He doesn’t have to take care of me anymore.” “I have a feeling it’s more than duty,” Walt said. “I have a feeling it always has been…” “He has to do the right thing,” she said. “I’m not getting in the way of that. A man like Paul—he could regret the wrong decision for the rest of his life. And frankly, I don’t want to be the one left to live with his regret.” “Oh, boy. You two have some talking to do.” “No. Paul has business to take care of. I have nothing more to say about this.” *
”
”
Robyn Carr (Second Chance Pass)
“
Your time’s up, Genevieve. Time to pay the piper.” Uncertainty flashed through her eyes. “You needn’t bother with a critique. I insisted on ruthlessness and that other whatnot, but it’s getting late, and you’ve had to put up with Timothy, and tomorrow there will be more sittings with the boys—” He extended a hand down to her while she recited her excuses. Perhaps in the last decade she’d learned some prudence after all, for she fell silent. “Come sit by me and prepare for your fifty lashes.” She passed him her sketch pad, put her hand in his, and let him assist her to a place on the hearthstones beside his chair. She brought with her a whiff of jasmine. All day her fragrance had haunted the edges of Elijah’s awareness, a teasing pleasure lurking right beneath his notice. “A good critique always starts with something positive,” he told her. “This raises the critic in the esteem of his victim, and lowers the victim’s guard. When the bad news inevitably follows, the victim will be paying attention, you see, and will have no choice but to hear at least some of the difficult things hurled his way.” His tone was teasing; his warning was in earnest. “I will clap my hands over my ears at this rate, Mr. Harrison. Please get on with it.” He
”
”
Grace Burrowes (Lady Jenny's Christmas Portrait (The Duke's Daughters, #5; Windham, #8))
“
You cannot escape me. You are here. That is the way of it.”
Glancing toward the door and the horrors she knew lay beyond, she whispered, “I have no choice.”
“You choose where you place your feet, Blue Eyes. This path you walk is bad--very bad. This Comanche will show you, eh?” He leaned closer. “You will learn that my hand upon you is not a terrible thing.”
Loretta’s eyes widened. “N-not now?”
His fingers curled in her hair, making a loose fist. “You will not eat. You fear my touch. You would die first. Your words, eh?”
Loretta’s senses started to swim. She blinked to clear her vision. She tried to shrug his hand away. “Even if I ate and you let me be tonight, you wouldn’t the next, or the next.” Heat crept up her neck. “And--after you, all your friends. Do you think I’m so stupid?”
He had abandoned his grip on her hair to trace the too generous neckline of his hunting shirt, his fingertip burning a trail along her collarbone, up the slope of her shoulder, along her throat. She closed her eyes, too weak to shove him away.
“No friends, Blue Eyes. You belong to this Comanche.”
“I’ll fight you--until I draw my last breath.” She swayed and righted herself. “Why bother with me? Why not find yourself an Indian woman?”
“It is you I want.” He brushed his knuckles along the hollow of her cheek. “Your skin is moonlight. I am dark like night next to you.” He slid his hand behind her neck and drew her toward him. “Sunshine in your hair, moonlight on your skin, this Comanche’s bright one, no?
”
”
Catherine Anderson (Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1))
“
I feel sorry for you, Task.’
‘Don’t bother.’
‘No, not because you’ve suffered, or you’re cursed, but because you don’t realise.’
He threw her a quizzical look.
Lesky reached out a hand and placed it on his stone. He tensed, but felt nothing, just the warmth of her skin.
‘You don’t realise how human you are. All of us. Alabast, Ellia, me, Huff, even you, with a mind made out of stone. We all walk around pretendin’ we’re not broken in some way. Most spend their lives hiding it. But we are broken. And you know what? That’s fine. In fact, it’s perfect because it’s imperfect. Each crack, each blemish, each scar, whether of the skin or in the mind, they make us whole. We’re made through livin’, not by bein’ born. What we learn is what shapes us. Some choose a friendly shape, others somethin’ more jagged and sharp. That is what it means to be human, Task. We can choose. You say your master made a mistake? Made you broken? I think he made the finest golem there is. One who’s more than stone, not just some mindless machine. One who can make actually make a choice for himself. One who’s got a conscience. A heart.
”
”
Ben Galley (The Heart of Stone)
“
With five little brothers and sisters, I learned to cook at an early age. Nothing fancy, but enough to keep everyone fed.” “That makes it sound like the task fell on your shoulders a lot.” He shrugged, flipping the sizzling toast. “Dad passed away when I was seventeen. Ma had to work as much as she could. Wasn’t much choice, but it never bothered me too much. Life happens. Resentment would’ve only made things worse.
”
”
Jill Ramsower (Secret Sin (The Byrne Brothers))
“
What should I get?” Raylan asks me, not bothering with the heavy leather menu and its array of choices spelled out in fancy scrolled print. “Do you like steak?” I say. “ ‘Course I do. What’s not to like?
”
”
Sophie Lark (Broken Vow (Brutal Birthright, #5))
“
I know.” She sighs. “I’m . . . I’m an Erudite, you know.” I smile a little. “Yeah, I know.” “No.” Cara shakes her head. “It’s the only thing I am. Erudite. And now they’ve told me that’s the result of some kind of flaw in my genetics . . . and that the factions themselves are just a mental prison to keep us under control. Just like Evelyn Johnson and the factionless said.” She pauses. “So why form the Allegiant? Why bother to come out here?” I didn’t realize how much Cara had already cleaved to the idea of being an Allegiant, loyal to the faction system, loyal to our founders. For me it was just a temporary identity, powerful because it could get me out of the city. For her the attachment must have been much deeper. “It’s still good that we came out here,” I say. “We found out the truth. That’s not valuable to you?” “Of course it is,” Cara says softly. “But it means I need other words for what I am.” Just after my mother died, I grabbed hold of my Divergence like it was a hand outstretched to save me. I needed that word to tell me who I was when everything else was coming apart around me. But now I’m wondering if I need it anymore, if we ever really need these words, “Dauntless,” “Erudite,” “Divergent,” “Allegiant,” or if we can just be friends or lovers or siblings, defined instead by the choices we make and the love and loyalty that binds us.
”
”
Veronica Roth (The Divergent Library: Divergent; Insurgent; Allegiant; Four)
“
Julia looked at her watch. "Lunchtime," she announced, opening the picnic basket she had packed at the bed and breakfast. "Anybody besides me hungry?"
"I'm always hungry," Giordino called out from the back of the boat.
"Amazing." Pitt shook his head incredulously. "At twelve feet away, outside in a breeze with the roar of the outboard motor, he can still hear the mere mention of food."
"What delicacies have you prepared?" Giordino asked Julia, having dragged himself to the cabin doorway.
"Apples, granola bars, carrots, and herbal ice tea. You have your choice between hummus and avocado sandwiches. It's what I call a healthy lunch."
Every man on the boat looked at each of the others with utter horror. She couldn't have received a more unpalatable reaction if she had said she was volunteering their services as diaper changers at a day care center. Out of deference to Julia none of the men said anything negative, since she went to the bother of fixing lunch. The fact that she was a woman and their mothers had raised them all as gentlemen added to the dilemma. Giordino, however, did not come from the old school. He complained vociferously.
"Hummus and avocado sandwiches," he said disgustedly. "I'm going to throw myself off the boat and swim to the nearest Burger King...
”
”
Clive Cussler (Flood Tide (Dirk Pitt, #14))
“
Elias watched him silently for a few heartbeats before he said, “I thought it was a joke, you know. You and Daniel Nieto.” He shook his head. “But I forgot that when you fuck up, you really fuck up.”
That was true, so Stavros didn’t bother taking offense. He simply shrugged. “He kidnapped and tortured me. I had no choice but to fuck him.”
“We would all be safer if that was all you did, but you made him love you.” Elias’ inhale was sharp. “Worse than that, you love him.
”
”
Avril Ashton (Dig Your Grave (Staniel, #2))
“
I didn’t come here to be interrogated,” I snapped. “What of all your attentions toward Calantha?”
His shoulders pulled back. “I suppose we’re both putting on the performances of our lives.”
His accusatory tone made my anger spark into a fire. “Performance? Is that what you call it? You lied to me. Your life’s complicated. That’s what you told me. Complicated?”
“What are you dredging up? Last night or Terravin?”
“You act as if it happened ten years ago! You have such an interesting way with words. Your life isn’t complicated. You’re the blazing crown prince of Dalbreck! You call that a complication? But you went on and on about growing melons and tending horses and how your parents were dead. You shamelessly told me you were a farmer!”
“You claimed you were a tavern maid!”
“I was! I served tables and washed dishes! Have you ever grown a melon in your life? Yet you piled on lie after lie, and it never occurred to you to tell me the truth.”
“What choice did I have? I heard you call me a princely papa’s boy behind my back! One you could never respect!”
My mouth fell open. “You spied on me?” I whirled around, shaking my head in disbelief, crossing the room, then whipping back to face him. “You spied? Your duplicities never end, do they?”
He took an intimidating step closer. “Maybe if a certain tavern maid had bothered to tell me the truth first, I wouldn’t have felt that I had to hide who I was!”
I matched him step for angry step. “Maybe if a self-important prince had bothered to come see me before the wedding as I had asked, we wouldn’t be here now at all!”
“Is that so? Well, maybe if someone had asked with an ounce of diplomacy instead of commanding like a spoiled royal bitch, I would have come!”
I shook with rage. “Maybe someone was too scared out of her wits to properly choose her words for His Royal Pompous Ass!
”
”
Mary E. Pearson (The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles, #2))
“
He told me he felt like a character being awkwardly written out of a sitcom.
'You know when they are there but they don't do or say anything? Like nobody has a clue what to do with them? Then they disappear and not a single person even bothers to mention it. That is happening to me, I think.'
I was familiar with numb feelings of this type. In the garage I felt like anyone could step in and play me, if they were supplied with the correct expression of anguish, the sluggish reactions of someone baffled by their own poor choices.
”
”
Nicole Flattery (Show Them a Good Time)
“
She nods. “Now I see her a few times a year. She took me to lunch for my birthday, but mostly she just criticized my life choices. Sometimes I wonder why she bothers with us at all. I guess she’s not as hard on my brothers, but still. If she didn’t want us, it would have been better if she’d just stayed away. Her half-hearted attempts at being a mother make her abandonment sting all over again.
”
”
Claire Kingsley (Cocky Roommate (Book Boyfriends, #2))
“
The next time someone says, "You're Doing It Wrong. Life is easy. Why don't you do what I do?" you can respond with your own experience.
Simply say, "Why does my experience bother you? Why do you need to impress your ideals or experience onto me?" It is hard for any human being to win against a question. No one is perfect. No one can live your life. You are your own best mentor.
”
”
Deborah Bravandt
“
This doesn’t mean that tidying your room will actually calm your troubled mind. While it may help you feel refreshed temporarily, the relief won’t last because you haven’t addressed the true cause of your anxiety. If you let the temporary relief achieved by tidying up your physical space deceive you, you will never recognize the need to clean up your psychological space. This was true for me. Distracted by the “need” to tidy my room, it took me so long to get down to studying that my grades were always terrible. Let’s imagine a cluttered room. It does not get messy all by itself. You, the person who lives in it, makes the mess. There is a saying that “a messy room equals a messy mind.” I look at it this way. When a room becomes cluttered, the cause is more than just physical. Visible mess helps distract us from the true source of the disorder. The act of cluttering is really an instinctive reflex that draws our attention away from the heart of an issue. If you can’t feel relaxed in a clean and tidy room, try confronting your feeling of anxiety. It may shed light on what is really bothering you. When your room is clean and uncluttered, you have no choice but to examine your inner state. You can see any issues you have been avoiding and are forced to deal with them. From the moment you start tidying, you will be compelled to reset your life. As a result, your life will start to change. That’s why the task of putting your house in order should be done quickly. It allows you to confront the issues that are really important. Tidying is just a tool, not the final destination. The true goal should be to establish the lifestyle you want most once your house has been put in order.
”
”
Marie Kondō (The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing (Magic Cleaning #1))
“
Before I inherited the title,” he said dazedly, “I wouldn’t have trusted either of us with a goldfish, much less a twenty-thousand-acre estate. I’ve always shunned any kind of responsibility because I knew I couldn’t manage it. I’m a scapegrace and a hothead, like our father. When you told me that I had no idea how to run the estate and I was going to fail--”
“That was a load of bollocks,” West said flatly.
Devon grinned briefly. “You made some valid points.” Absently he began to roll the hematite between his palms. “But against all odds, it seems that you and I have managed to make enough of the right choices--”
“No,” West interrupted. “I’ll take no credit for this. You alone decided to take on the burden of the estate. You made the decisions that led to the lease deal and the discovery of the iron deposits. Has it occurred to you that if any of the previous earls had bothered to make the land improvements they should have, the hematite bed would have been discovered decades ago? You certainly would have found it when you ordered the drainage trenches dug for the tenant farms. You see, Eversby Priory is in good hands: yours. You’ve changed hundreds of lives for the better, including mine. Whatever the word is for a man who’s done all that…it’s not ‘scapegrace.’” West paused. “My God, I can feel sincerity rising in my chest like a digestive disorder. I have to stop. Shall we go to the house for you to change into some field boots? Then we can return here, talk to the surveyors, and have a walk around.”
Pondering the question, Devon dropped the pebble into his pocket, and met his brother’s gaze squarely.
One thought was paramount: None of this mattered without Kathleen. He had to go to her at once, and somehow make her understand that during the past few months, he had changed without even being aware of it. He had become a man who could love her.
God, how madly he loved her.
But he had to find a way of convincing her, which would not be easy.
On the other hand…he wasn’t a man to back down from a challenge.
Not any longer.
He glanced at his brother and spoke in a voice that wasn’t quite steady. “I can’t stay,” he said. “I have to go back to London.
”
”
Lisa Kleypas (Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels, #1))
“
the scars don’t bother me anymore; neither does the Mark. It reminds me to look at every side of things, reminds me of how bad things can get when you make the wrong choices,” Draco said with a sigh. “And the scars are a good reminder to think before I do something stupid in haste.
”
”
bixgirl1 (The Claiming of Grimmauld Place)
“
She’d pause and ask, “God, is this bothering You or just me?” In other words, does this behavior, choice, activity, bother You or just me, Lord? Now I ask myself, Does it matter if my older boy wears flip-flops to church? Does Jesus care if his clothes don’t match? Is Jesus concerned that Isaac plays with a toy in an unconventional way? How much correcting and relentless nagging could I avoid if I asked this simple question and humbly listened for the answer?
”
”
Guideposts (Mornings with Jesus 2020: Daily Encouragement for Your Soul)
“
You should go to the gardens,” the king says after a long moment. “They’re far more cheerful than a hall of dead kings.”
“I don’t know the way. Perhaps you would walk me there?” I ask hesitantly. “You can tell me about your family. I would like to know more of my new people.”
It’s a subtle offer of peace, one that I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to offer.
The king turns to me. We study each other, coming to a silent understanding. He doesn’t particularly like me. I don’t particularly like him.
But perhaps we can be civil.
After a moment, he nods. “I’ll show you the tree Rhys first climbed as a child. Coincidentally, that was also the day he first broke his arm.”
I laugh, startled by the change in the king’s demeanor.
He pauses, looking at me as if he’s unsure of something. I didn’t say anything, so I couldn’t have offended him yet.
“Perhaps we’ll bring Julia? She hasn’t taken a walk through the garden in too long.” He gives me a wry smile. “And Cassia isn’t here to tell her she can’t.”
“Rhys spoke of his mother while in Renove,” I say softly. “He cares for her greatly.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry you felt as if he betrayed you both,” I whisper.
“I believe that apology should come from my son.” He then clears his throat. “But I appreciate it all the same.”
I follow him down the hall, nervous about meeting the queen again. I’m certain I didn’t make a good first impression.
“I should apologize as well,” King Egan says, looking straight ahead. “It’s easy to make decisions when you’re dealing with faceless individuals. They’re like pieces on an Echelon board. But then you meet your pawns, and you begin to feel remorse and second-guess your choices. It’s not a dignified state for a king.”
I nod, unsure how to answer, so we continue down the hall in near silence.
“I do have a question,” I finally say. “It’s something that’s been bothering me since we arrived back at the castle in the rain.”
Though he looks hesitant, Rhys’s father nods for me to continue.
“If the aboveground water in your kingdom has become toxic, where did Rhys learn to swim?”
The king barks out an unexpected laugh. “That, ironically, brings us to the place where Rhys broke his arm for a second time.
”
”
Shari L. Tapscott (Dawn of Darkness (The Riven Kingdoms, #3))
“
even though my boyfriend has confronted them about it. What can I do to get them to accept me? Acceptance is overrated! So are birthday dinners, good health, and, frankly, having parents. I killed mine while I was still a teen, because I knew that if I didn’t, my adult life would be ceaselessly tormented by the insurmountable demands of my overbearing mom and dad, people who couldn’t be bothered to teach me how to balance a checkbook but would nevertheless feel entitled to weigh in on my choice of career and life mate and Internet service provider. Neither of them lived long enough to suffer through the indignity of an introductory meal with someone I was sleeping with, and thank goodness for that. My parents have been dead for twenty-two years and even now my insides churn at the very thought of my father scowling at my wife over his leather-tough tri tip at the Sizzler like, “You’re a what now?
”
”
Samantha Irby (Wow, No Thank You.)
“
Back then, I would never have thought- this was an option with me. I did what I believed was right, and I am happy. With all of the choices, but will I be able to finish school? Is being seventeen too young to be a mom? What is it like to be a mother? Why doesn’t the hellhole cover this in their health class? They just give you ways to prevent, yet not how to be a mother, who is supposed to teach this? I remember bringing her home for the first time, we made a nursery for her in my room, and we had a white bassinet for her. She keeps me tending to her nonstop, on the weekends he and I stayed together, maybe someday soon we can get our place. Her first bath was in the farm sink, and his mom got her all kinds of cute things to where it was hard to choose what to put on her. She always looked so adorable. A real-life baby doll.
(People talking)
Nevaeh- Talk is cheap… in all honesty, most people just need to mind their own business, I think. Either somebody wants to kick the shit out of you, or steal your joy. Stop making judgments about us! It all comes down to the fact that they need to feel needed. Just stop bothering me, go get what you need, and fight for it as I did, stop trying to take it away from me. Besides, keep this in mind as you are doing it- ‘Do to others, as you would want them to do to you.’ Why do you ask? Just because you might end up worse, off in what you are doing, than what you are seeing, and saying about others. ‘Just remember when you point a finger at someone three fingers are pointing back at you.’ Just like you can always tell when someone is on the dark side. They have to dance around the fires of destruction and torment, the flame within their eyes sparkles as you look at them, as they are children of the night and immorality.
Let's just say the sisters finally got their turn, for trying to kill my baby Jaylynn with her small pillow in my own home, in my room they stood over her one night. When hope was the only one home, and we were out for the first time all night without her. Hope caught and fought with all of them before they got the job done. Baby Jaylynn is still alive, yet it is a wonder that she is.
”
”
Marcel Ray Duriez (Nevaeh The Miracle)
“
Remarkably, Grace never considered pursuing a career and very rarely sought consistent employment. At no time in her long life was Grace driven by the question of how to make a living. Accordingly, political considerations frequently guided her choices about employment, including where to work, for how long, and even whether to take a job. This set of choices, of course, was available to her because of the relative material security she enjoyed at most stages of her life: her comfortable middle-class upbringing and the family support she continued to enjoy when she returned to New York during the 1940s; her marital union with Jimmy; and the support of her political community, as she sometimes worked as a member of the organization’s (minimally) paid staff and later received financial support from Freddy and Lyman. But that alone does not explain her employment decisions. Grace’s indifference to career and upward mobility reflected her decidedly nonacquisitive personality and a complete disinterest in status or the trappings of any sort of professional life. This was evident in 1940 when Grace earned her Ph.D. Securing an academic job “was never on my mind,” she said decades later, thinking back to her mind-set and priorities while completing the degree. With no aspiration of becoming a professor—“ I had not studied philosophy in order to teach it”—Grace had allowed herself to sink into her studies without regard for where they would lead, intellectually or materially. The need to eventually find employment beyond what she had already been doing “was never in my consciousness. It just never bothered me,” she recalled. “What I knew was that by and large I had been able to make a living because I was a very good typist and I figured, if I needed money I can type.” 84 And that is what she did over the next two decades, taking various secretarial and clerical jobs, most of them short term or temporary and some of them part time.
”
”
Stephen M. Ward (In Love and Struggle: The Revolutionary Lives of James and Grace Lee Boggs (Justice, Power, and Politics))
“
Because ye willna accept me for who I am! I can only be the Duchess of Nottingham now, not permitted to wear wool or speak with a burr or believe what I have spent my whole life believing. I canna turn around without your oldest friend lecturing me on superstition or you calling me daft for believing in curses "
His usually gut reaction beckoned--- spin away, refuse to engage in what he deemed a ridiculous argument. But a quiet Stay resonated within him, and this time he didn't think he was misunderstanding. He shoved his hands in his pockets to anchor himself. " I love to hear you speak. I care very little what you wear, so long as you have what you need and are happy in it."
She snorted. " Your society disagrees "
"Yes, they do. And you can either conform to their expectations or defy them. Whatever your choice, I will stand beside you. But it is the other that really bothers you, and that is my fault. My failing. Your opinions and beliefs are worth no less than mine.
”
”
Roseanna M. White (The Reluctant Duchess (Ladies of the Manor, #2))
“
I want a dessert."
She turns and starts wiping down the clean counters like it's her new mission in life. "I'll go to the farmers' market and get some ripe fruit."
"Not. Fruit." Fact is, I can't eat a mango anymore without wanting to suck on Delilah's tongue. "Something rich and sweet and creamy." And now I'm thinking about sinking to my knees before her. Behind the kitchen island, I reach down and adjust myself. Having zero experience with flirting, I don't think I'm doing a proper job of it. I'm only getting myself riled up here.
Especially since Delilah's expression remains deadpan. "I don't think any of that is on the approved list."
"I think you bring up that damn list to annoy me, Tot."
"This is true." She doesn't bother to hide her glee.
Like a bee to nectar, I drift closer. "Come on, Delilah. Cheat with me. Just a little?"
Shaking her head in clear exasperation, she tosses the cloth into the sink and faces me. "All right, just this once. Name your poison."
She isn't in my arms. My mouth isn't on hers. But it's still a victory, and I rub my hands together in anticipation. "Let's see... oh, God, the choices. Your Totally Toffee-Chip Cookies? Your Mad Monster Chocolate Cake?" I stop to think of all the desserts Delilah has made over the years. "Ah. I know... Bountiful Banana Cream Pie.
”
”
Kristen Callihan (Dear Enemy)