Bowen Quotes

This is the first time I've really looked at my reflection in months." To the Lykae [Bowen], she said, "No wonder you love me. Could I be any cuter?

He wanted a stiff drink to get through the evening, for he knew they’d be wailing, and her family coming unglued.

He didn't want to give the cartel any time to persuade Emiliana into accepting a more enticing offer. He had reservations about her loyalty and feared she might make a deal without Elpidio's consent.

Darling, I don't want you; I've got no place for you; I only want what you give. I don't want the whole of anyone.... What you want is the whole of me-isn't it, isn't it?-and the whole of me isn't there for anybody. In that full sense you want me I don't exist.

Bad form, Regin! Wrong car." Immediately after, the house shook again. "Oh, much better!" Nix assured them. "That was Bowen's!

Nïx lay on her side, bending her elbow to casually prop her head in her hand. With a sigh she said, “Bowen, I took you on as my pet project because I like to ogle you. Due to your rowr factor.

What’s your favorite place to visit?” He absently answered, “Wherever you are.” “Bowen, five things about you can’t all be about me.” But you’re the only good thing that I’ve got.

Elpidio sensed that David had more to say but was holding back due to their friendship. He wondered why David had gone along with Emiliana's seemingly impulsive ideas.

But here’s the thing about family, Ryan…blood doesn’t mean shit. You just need to surround yourself with people who do love you, and they become your family.

Life was better than he expected with his new Italian family inheritance, and it felt good to take a deep breath without fear of someone attacking him or his family.

The rain it raineth on the just And also on the unjust fella; But chiefly on the just, because The unjust hath the just’s umbrella.

He motioned for Elpidio to sit down after watching him pace the room in circles. Elpidio pulled out a chair and admitted, 'I've messed up in more ways than I can count.

Cats are notoriously picky about who they like. And if a cat doesn’t like its owner it will go and find another one. Cats do that all the time.

A romantic man often feels more uplifted with two women than with one: his love seems to hit the ideal mark somewhere between two different faces.

She walked about with the rather fated expression you see in photographs of girls who have subsequently been murdered, but nothing had so far happened to her.

My dick and I reached an understanding.” “Yeah? And what’s that?” I ask curiously. He shrugs. “We both like you.

I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held.

But to be quite oneself one must first waste a little time.

Jamie Canning was my first crush and my first love. But he was never mine to have.

I’ve been walking around with a hollow chasm in my chest where my heart used to be. But that gaping hole is full again. My heart is back, because Jamie is here. And he fucking loves me.

He kissed me between the shoulder blades. “Getting along together was never the problem with you and me,” he said. “We’re both easy. It’s just the rest of the world that’s hard.

Hurt people hurt people. We are not being judgmental by separating ourselves from such people. But we should do so with compassion. Compassion is defined as a "keen awareness of the suffering of another coupled with a desire to see it relieved." People hurt others as a result of their own inner strife and pain. Avoid the reactive response of believeing they are bad; they already think so and are acting that way. They aren't bad; they are damaged and they deserve compassion. Note that compassion is an internal process, an understanding of the painful and troubled road trod by another. It is not trying to change or fix that person.

Love is friendship set in fire.

Writers don't get mad they get even in their novels.

I…” He clears his throat. “I’d let you do it, though.” My hand freezes in his hair. “You would?” Wes nods. “I’d let you do anything to me, Canning.

I tried to sneak in without him seeing me. It was a stupid move. He was a cat, he had more senses in one of his whiskers than I had in my entire body. No sooner had I opened the door to the building than he was there squeezing his way in.

He spends the majority of the evening in the company of Celia Bowen, whose elaborate gown changes color, shifting through a rainbow of hues to compliment whoever she is closest to.

Did he open the wrong... “Probably shouldna opened all those drawers,” Blake carries on, rubbing his chin. “Ya can’t unsee some of those toys. But everybody has to have his own kinda fun.

I'm like the worst queer dude ever. Somebody pass me the manual!

Everybody has their shit to shovel,Callahan.Everybody.Now,yours is right up front where everybody can see it.I don't envy you that.But everybody has some,whether you can see it or not.

When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.

They don't hang dukes, darling. He'd be let off by reason of insanity. Everyone knows the upper classes are batty.

I won’t beg for anyone’s love, and yours is no exception.

I hold him as close as I dare. Even if my entire life goes to shit before breakfast tomorrow, I’ll always have this night.

Sex talk? You mean the bee and the flower sex conversation? Your parents should have taken care of that a long time ago. Mine did." She elbowed him. "No, you bozo, I meant the safe-sex conversation where the bee explains in detail to the flower how he's always worn a raincoat while buzzing around, and how he'd never gotten entangled with dubious pollen.

Why is it that there is this misconception that dark equals good. That only applies to chocolate.

Our mouths fit together so perfectly. Every time we kiss, I fall even more in love with him, and it has nothing to do with sex or lust. It's him. His closeness and his scent and the way he soothes me.

We should all have personal hot air balloons and drift serenely through the clouds.

God, when I go gay, I really go gay.

Because I’d wanted to touch him more than I’d wanted my next breath.

Like me, Jamie has two speeds: horny and asleep.

His gaze had the intensity of a laser. “But it’s not the same with you.” My heart faltered. “Why?” “Because, Callahan.” The brown eyes came closer. “I never loved anyone the way I love you.

Last I saw him, he was sucking on a bottle of whiskey like he was trying to make it come.

Everybody has their shit to shovel,

So proper for a circus girl," Mme. Padva says with with a gleam in her eye. "We shall have to loosen those corset laces if we intend to keep you an intimate dinner company." "I expected the corset unlacing would take place after dinner," Celia says mildly, earning a chorus of laughter. "We shall keep Miss Bowen as intimate company regardless of the state of her corset," Chandresh says. "Make a note of that," he adds, waving a hand at Marco. "Miss Bowen's corset is duly noted, sir," Marco replies, and the laghter bubbles over the table again.

Writers do not find subjects; subjects find them.

-Have I ever told you that you're beautiful? -Any time I offer you food. -Exactly. Gimme that.

She thought she need not worry about her youth; it wasted itself spontaneously, like sunshine elsewhere or firelight in an empty room.

Karen, her elbows folded on the deck-rail, wanted to share with someone her pleasure in being alone: this is the paradox of any happy solitude.

I’m a sexy motherfucker. If only the one person I care about was here to appreciate it.

It’s us. And it’s perfect.

Reason can never reconcile one to life: nothing allays the wants one cannot explain.

No object is mysterious. The mystery is your eye

What about the jerks who think good oral sex consists of sucking your clit so hard it feels like you're stuck to a vacuum cleaner? You're there, squirming, about to pass out from agony, slapping at him and yanking his hair to get him to stop, and what does the moron do? Thinks you're coming, redoubles his efforts, and obnoxiously grins at you.

My body is covered in marks, Cole.” Big deal. “Mine too, sweetheart.” She snorted. “Yours are war scars.” “Yours too, Christy. I waged war with others while you waged war with yourself. It’s the same. It’s just life; there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We both survived. This body tells its own story, and it’s an amazing story. You are amazing.

Living on the streets of London strips away your dignity, your identity − your everything, really. Worst of all, it strips away people’s opinion of you. They see you are living on the streets and treat you as a non-person. They don’t want anything to do with you. Soon you haven’t got a real friend in the world.

Karen, her elbows folded on the deck-rail, wanted to share with someone the pleasure in being alone: this is the paradox of any happy solitude. She had never landed at Cork, so this hill and that hill beyond were as unexpected as pictures at which you say "Oh look!" Nobody was beside her to share the moment, which would have been imperfect with anyone else there.

Pity the selfishness of lovers: it is brief, a forlorn hope; it is impossible.

Why hasn’t anyone ever told me the prostate was some kind of magical pleasure zone? Are there unicorns and orgasm fairies dancing around in there?

You really do love me, huh?” “Always have.” I swallowed hard. “Always will.

Every kiss still felt like a gift, because I knew how much they cost him.

I'm going to take a wild guess here and say the hard-on you've been sporting all afternoon is not on account of Mr. Nicholson continually bending over to pick up the golf balls, right?" "For fuck's sake, Dad!" James cursed, looking horrified at his father, who just shrugged his shoulders at his son's shocked expression. "Whaaat? Just making sure," he added, hardly hiding his amusement.

You don't believe in second chances, Cole," "But you do, and I think we've already established you're the smart one here.

My weakness is him.

I love you. The words are always right there on the tip of my naughty tongue. I swallow them back like I need to and say something much more practical instead. “Have you ever been acquainted with your prostate?

The innocent are so few that two of them seldom meet-when they do meet, their victims lie strewn all round.

He should come with a warning from the health department: Handle with extreme caution and use at your own peril. Looking will cause palpitations, dizziness, and hyperventilation. She knew, for she was having all of those and then some.

There's a famous quote I read somewhere. It says we are all given second chances every day of our lives. They are there for the taking, it's just that we don't usually take them.

Never to lie is to have no lock to your door, you are never wholly alone

Ready to come harder than you’ve ever come in your life?” I ask solemnly, lifting one of his knees up. He smiles. “You sure you want to put that much pressure on yourself, dude?” “No pressure. Just fact. Science has proven it.

Darkness is the absence of light. Happiness is the absence of pain. Anger is the absence of joy. Jealousy is the absence of confidence. Love is the absence of doubt. Hate is the absence of peace. Fear is the absence of faith. Life is the absence of death.

I want the right to spend time with you, not only fuck you. I want the right to stay for breakfast. And I want you bareback." "Ah so this all boils down to sex." "Everything boils down to sex, honey. Always. My drive to fuck you is huge, don't be mistaken, but this is more." "More?" He nodded but didn't reply.

Writers seldom choose as friends those self-centered characters who are never in trouble, never make mistakes, and always count their change as it is handed to them.

Do not be ashamed of who you are.

Jesus. Good thing he’s not a traffic cop, because he’s sending enough mixed signals to cause a ten-car pileup.

and—wait, I’m sorry, did you call me Ryan Theodore?” She waves her hand as if the question is inconsequential. “I don’t know your middle name so I had to make one up. Because, sweetie, you really needed to be middle-named for mangling those poor onions.

Having Bob gave me a chance to interact with people.... Cats are notoriously picky about who they like. Seeing me with my cat softened me in [others] eyes. It humanized me. Especially after I'd been so dehumanized. In some ways it was giving me back my identity. I had been a non-person; I was becoming a person again.

I don't know why, but people seem to be fascinated to learn how some members of society fall through the cracks. I think it's partly that feeling that... it could happen to anyone. But I think it also makes people feel better about their own lives. It makes them think, 'Well, I may think my life is bad, but it could be worse, I could be that poor sod.

Okay, Miss Speedy Pussy, this settles the matter of whether or not I do it for you. You got your first orgasm. Tomorrow be ready to deliver my first date.

I am not a snob, because I know opulence doesn't stamp out ignorance and unhappiness.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day Pat walked into the gym and found us—me, flat on my stomach with Jamie’s knee digging into the back of my neck, while I yelled “Ballsack!” over and over again.

[…] But you doona plan to deprive Bowen and me of a fight?" Garreth had answered, "So as to no' piss off a vampire queen and the most powerful witch ever to live? Oh, aye." "What are you planning?" "Steal the arrow from Lousha, sneak off, shoot the god. Then I'll come back with a present and an apology, promising she can shoot the next god.

...there must be something she wanted; and that therefore she was no lady.

You could see that her tremendous inside life, its solitary fears and fires, was out of accord with her humble view of herself; to hide or excuse what she felt was her first wish.

Meeting people unlike oneself does not enlarge one's outlook; it only confirms one's idea that one is unique.

Cole, this would work much smoother if you remove your hand from between my legs.” “Why? Are you gonna be talking with your pussy?

Habit, of which passion must be wary, may all the same be the sweetest part of love.

Why would you complicate our friendship?" I whispered. "Like it's so simple now?" He countered.

It is not our exalted feelings, it is our sentiments that build the necessary home. The need to attach themselves makes wandering people strike roots in a day: wherever we unconsciously feel, we live.

One's sentiments -- call them that -- one's fidelities are so instinctive that one hardly knows they exist: only when they are betrayed or, worse still, when one betrays them does one realize their power.

All things are possible if you believe...

And they just let you enter after their effort?" "What should they have done, Mr MacRieve?" "I know exactly what I would have done." "I know exactly how I would have retaliated.

Someone soon to start on a journey is always a little holy.

You haven't gotten the dynamics of our relationship down yet, have you? Let me explain it to you: we're involved, very involved. You're mine, and your problems are also mine. No one messes with what belongs to me. Don't fight me on that, because you'll lose baby. and be aware next time you hide something like that from me, I'll turn you over my knee and spank your ass red. Do we understand each other?

You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he said, cupping her face, nuzzling her mouth. "Now turn around and bend over. I need to ride you." Tate opened her eyes and let out a shaky laugh. "Bend over the table? After being on my feet the whole night? I don't think so, buddy. I want on my back, pronto." "And I want in you. Now," he said as he lifted her left leg, hooked his elbow under her knee, and entered her.

I need you to scry for Lousha," he said. "You told me once that you could." "Yeah, I can get you in her vicinity." Garreth had taken Lucia's scent into him and could find her from miles away. "That'll work." Witches could come in handy, he supposed. "But I don't do gratis." Garreth bluidy hated witches! "Charge me what you will! Just give me the fucking coordinates." In the background, he heard Bowen say, "Mari, never let it be said that I doona support your extortion--" "Entrepreneurial-ness," she corrected. "But a family discount, love, would no' be amiss." "The whole family? Fine," she said. "I'm scrying." While Garreth waited, she groused about how extended the "MacRieve pack" was.

Memory in these incomparable streets, in mosaics of pain and sweetness, was clear to me now, a unity at last. I remembered small and unimportant things from the past: the whispers of roommates during thunderstorms, the smell of brass polish on my fingertips, the first swim at Folly Beach in April, lightning over the Atlantic, shelling oysters at Bowen's Island during a rare Carolina snowstorm, pigeons strutting across the graveyard at St. Philip's, lawyers moving out of their offices to lunch on Broad Street, the darkness of reveille on cold winter mornings, regattas, the flash of bagpipers' tartans passing in review, blue herons on the marshes, the pressure of the chinstrap on my shako, brotherhood, shad roe at Henry's, camellias floating above water in a porcelain bowl, the scowl of Mark Santoro, and brotherhood again.

Age before beauty, Mr. MacRieve. If you think you can fit." "Only humans call me Mr. MacRieve." "I'm not a human. So would you like me to call you Bowen, or Bowe for short?" "Bowe is what my friends call me, so you doona." "No problem. I have a slew of other more fitting names for you. Most of them end in er." "You in the tunnel first." "Don't you think it'd be unbecoming for me to be on my hands and knees in front of you? Besides, you don't need my lantern to see in the dark, and if you go first, you'll be sure to lose me and get to the prize first." "I doona like anything, or anyone, at my back. And you'll have your little red cloak on, so I will no' be able to see anything about you that might be... unbecoming." "Twisting my words? I'll have you know that I am criminally cute - " "Then why hide behind a cloak?" "I'm not hiding. And I like to wear it. Fine. Beauty before age.

His Facebook post is pure Jamie: Hi all. I feel like a heel doing this over Facebook, but I can’t reach everyone by tomorrow. You’re all going to discuss me on Sunday, anyway. And in case you think my account was hacked, it wasn’t. As proof I’ll confess that I’m the one who broke Mom’s Christmas tree angel when I was seven. It was death by baseball, but I swear she didn’t suffer. Anyway, I have to catch you up on a few developments. I’ve taken the coaching job in Toronto, and I’ve declined my spot in Detroit. This feels like the right career move, but there’s something else. I’m living with my boyfriend (that was not a typo.) His name is Wes, and we met at Lake Placid about nine years ago. In case you were lacking something to talk about over dinner, I’ve fixed that problem. Love you all. Jamie

I, Ryan,” his husky voice repeats, “take you, James, to be my friend and husband.” “To be yours in times of plenty and in times of want.” “To be yours in times of plenty…” He clears his throat, and his cheeks pink up. “And in times of want.” “In times of sickness and in times of perfect health…” Wes repeats each line slowly, though his voice becomes a little rougher each time. “I promise to cherish and respect you…” His eyes are wet now, and I clutch my flowers a little more tightly. Come on, sweetie, I silently encourage him. You’re almost there. I feel Jamie lean forward a degree or two, squeezing Wes’s hand. “To care for and protect you,” he gets out. Then one fat tear launches itself from his eye and down his rugged cheek. My heart breaks into little tiny splinters. Maybe I didn’t enjoy planning this wedding, but I’m sure as hell happy to be part of it now. “And stay by your side, forever,” Wes finishes eventually.