Britt Quotes

We want to be loved,’ ” quotes Britt-Marie. “ ‘Failing that, admired; failing that, feared; failing that, hated and despised. At all costs we want to stir up some sort of feeling in others. The soul abhors a vacuum. At all costs it longs for contact.’ 

One morning you wake up with more life behind you than in front of you, not being able to understand how it’s happened.

At a certain age almost all the questions a person asks him or herself are really just about one thing: how should you live your life?

Doing business without advertising is like winking at a girl in the dark. You know what you are doing but nobody else does.

An unreasonable amount of paperwork is required these days just to be a human being.

A human being may not choose her circumstances, but she does choose her actions

Because if we don’t forgive those we love, then what is left? What is love if it’s not loving our lovers even when they don’t deserve it?

If you can be heard then you exist.

It’s difficult to know when love blooms; suddenly one day you wake up and it’s in full flower. It works the same way when it wilts—one day it is just too late.

A few years turned into more years, and more years turned into all years. Years have a habit of behaving like that.

You have to understand that when one is just standing there looking, then just for a second one is ready to jump. If one does it, one dares to do it. But if one waits, it’ll never happen.

A human being, any human being at all, has so perishingly few chances to stay right there, to let go of time and fall into the moment. And to love someone without measure, explode with passion... A few times when we are children, maybe, for those of us who are allowed to be... But after that? How many breaths are we allowed to take beyond the confines of ourselves? How many pure emotions make us cheer out loud without a sense of shame? How many chances do we get to be blessed by amnesia? All passion is childish, it's banal and naive, it's nothing we learn, it's instinctive, and so it overwhelms us... Overturns us... It bears us away in a flood... All other emotions belong to the earth, but passion inhabits the universe. That is the reason why passion is worth something. Not for what it gives us, but for what it demands that we risk - our dignity, the puzzlement of others in their condescending shaking heads...

Because those four days in the mountains, they changed us. I gave you a piece of me. And you must have given me a piece of yourself, too, because you wouldn't have come here otherwise. You would have let go. I can't let go of you, Britt. And I don't want you to let go of me.

If a human being closes her eyes hard enough and for long enough, she can remember pretty well everything that has made her happy.

Soccer forces life to move on. There’s always a new match. A new season. There’s always a dream that everything can get better. It’s a game of wonders.

We get so worried about being pretty. Let’s be pretty kind. Pretty funny. Pretty smart. Pretty strong.

I like having you around, Britt. That's the truth. I'm not leaving you. Even if you were a pain in the butt, I'd stay with you. It's the right thing to do. But it turns out I find you likable and interesting, and while I'm not glad you have to go through this, I'm glad we have each other.

We,” King Lot said, his eyes cold and piercing. “Will refuse any gifts this beardless boy offers us.” “Is there a reason why he is so obsessed with my lack of a beard?” Britt sighed.

You love football because it is instinctive. If a ball comes rolling down the street you give it a punt. You love it for the same reason you fall in love. Because you don't know how to avoid it.

She wonders how much space a person has left in her soul to change herself, once she gets older. What people does she still have to meet, what will they see in her, and what will they make her see in herself?

When she realizes that they are about to fall, she summons the strength to stand on her own two feet. Because that is what women like Britt-Marie do. They find the strength when they have to do something for others.

The winter requires whoever is doing the watering to have a bit of faith, in order to believe that what looks empty has every potential.

All other emotions belong to the earth, but passion inhabits the universe.

Sometimes it’s easier to go on living, not even knowing who you are, when at least you know precisely where you are while you go on not knowing.

All marriages have their bad sides, because people have weaknesses. If you live with another human being you learn to handle these weaknesses in a variety of ways. For instance, you might take the view that weaknesses are a bit like heavy pieces of furniture, and based on this you must learn to clean around them. To maintain the illusion.

What does it mean when someone supports Manchester United or whatever it's called?" ... "They always win. So they've started believing they deserve to.

The reason for her love of maps. It’s half worn away, the dot, and the red color is bleached. Yet it’s there, flung down there on the map halfway between the lower left corner and its center, and next to it is written, “You are here.” Sometimes it’s easier to go on living, not even knowing who you are, when at least you know precisely where you are while you go on not knowing

All passion is childish. It's banal and naive. It's nothing we learn; it's instinctive, and so it overwhelms us. Overturns us. It bears us away in a flood. All other emotions belong to earth, but passion inhabits the universe. That is the reason why passion is worth something, not for what it gives us but for what it demands we risk. Our dignity. The puzzlement of others and their condescending, shaking heads

But in the end all he can manage to utter is: “I want you to know, Britt-Marie, that every time there’s a knock on my front door, I hope it’s you.

A year turned into several years, and several years turned into all the years. One morning you wake up with more life behind you than in front of you, not being able to understand how it's happened.

If you have a dad who supports Liverpool you always fucking think you can turn anything around. You know! Ever since that Champions League final.

Because life is more than the shoes your feet are in. More than the person you are. It's the togetherness. The parts of yourself in another. Memories and walls and cupboards and drawers with compartments for cutlery, so you know where everything is.

You’re never quite alone when you can stand on a balcony—you have all the cars and houses and the people in the streets. You’re among them, but also not. That’s the best thing about balconies.

My mother worked for the social services all her life. She always said that in the middle of all the crap, in the thick of it all, you always had a sunny story turning up. Which makes it all worthwhile.' The next words that come are smiling. 'You're my sunny story, Britt-Marie.

No matter what you've been told, your worth more than gold.

If you support Tottenham you always give more love than you get back... Tottenham is the worst kind of bad team, because they're almost good. They always promise that they're going to be fantastic. They make you hope. So you go on loving them and they carry on finding more and more innovative ways of disappointing you

When was the last time you were kissed?" he went on easily. "And I'm not talking about the dry, noncommittal, meaningless kiss you forget about as soon as it's over." I scrambled out of my stupor long enough to quip, "Like last night's kiss?" He cocked an eyebrow. "That so? I wonder, then, why you moaned my name after you drifted to sleep." "I did not!" "If only I'd had a video recorder. When was the last time you were really kissed?" he repeated. "You seriously think I'm going to tell you?" "Your ex?" he guessed. "And if he was?" "Was it your ex who taught you to be ashamed and uncomfortable with intimacy? He took from you what he wanted, but never seemed to be around when you wanted something back, isn't that right? What do you want, Britt?" he asked me point-blank. "Do you really want to pretend like last night never happened?" "Whatever happened between me and Calvin isn't your business,” I fired back. "For your information, he was a really great boyfriend. I-I wish I was with him right now!" I exclaimed untruthfully. My careless comment made him flinch, but he recovered quickly. "Does he love you?" "What?" I said, flustered. "If you know him so well, it shouldn't be a hard question. Is he in love with you? Was he ever in love with you?" I tossed my head back haughtily. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to cut him down because you're-you're jealous of him!" "You're damn right I'm jealous,” he growled. "When I kiss a girl, I like to know she's thinking about me, not the fool who gave her up.

Human beings are the only animals that smile as a gesture of peace, whereas other animals show their teeth as a threat.

Und wenn ich mal heirate, dann muss mein Mann zwei Bedingungen erfüllen: Er muss Bücher und Kinder lieben, alles andere ist nicht so wichtig. Ich meine, wie er aussieht und so. Obwohl es ja nicht schaden könnte, wenn er schöne Zähne hätte.

you're Worth More Than Gold

In seasons of hiddenness our sense of value is disrupted, stripped of what "others" affirmed us to be. In this season God intends to give us an unshakable identity in Him, that no amount of adoration nor rejection can alter.

What’s it about this time?” I ask. “Pop Tarts,” Britt says. Hailey turns to us and points at Luke. “This jerk actually said they’re better warmed up in the microwave.” “Eww,” I say, instead of my usual “Ill,” and Maya goes, “Are you serious?

Life is a journey, not so much to a destination, but a transformation.

Normal life is presentable. In normal life, you clean up the kitchen and keep your balcony tidy and take care of your children. It's hard work--harder than one might think.

It takes years to know a human being. An entire lifetime. It's what makes a home a home.

Britt said, standing up. “You know, Merlin, I’m starting to think your magic might be all talk.” “What?” Merlin squawked. “You can’t break Morgause’s enchantment, and you can’t help me understand Gawain. It seems like there isn’t much you can do,” Britt said. “You ungrateful pig-child. Of course I can do magic. Lots of magic! I brought you here didn’t I?” Merlin said.

Jesus appears to have walked unstressed and unhurried. His peaceful pace seems to imply that he measured himself not by where he was going and how fast he could get there but by whom he was following and how closely they walked together.

They forgot what made them successful.” “What do you do when that happens?” “You start again.

She has not run down the stairs like this since she was a teenager, when your heart reaches the front door before your feet.

I want someone to know I’m here.

I was eighteen now, just gone. Eighteen was not a young age. At eighteen old Wolfgang Amadeus had written concertos and symphonies and operas and oratorios and all that cal, no, not cal, heavenly music. And then there was old Felix M. with his "Midsummer Night's Dream" Overture. And there were others. And there was this like French poet set by old Benjy Britt, who had done all his best poetry by the age of fifteen, O my brothers. Arthur, his first name. Eighteen was not all that young an age then. But what was I going to do?

It’s easier to stay optimistic if you never have to clear up the mess afterwards.

She’s frozen to the spot, held in place by a whole lifetime of thwarted ambitions.

Of course the dust is building up unseen, but you learn to repress this for as long as it goes unnoticed by guests. And then one day someone moves a piece of furniture without your say-so, and everything comes into plain view. Dirt and scratch marks. Permanent damage to the parquet floor. By then it’s too late.

the stables. “My Lord,” he said, sketching a bow to Britt. “A guest has just arrived at Camelot. A Royal guest—a lady!” the young boy said, looking horrified. Britt held back a groan, but couldn’t stop her expression of disdain. “Inform the lady I am busy with kingly affairs and send Merlin to greet her.” “Merlin already has greeted her,” the page said, his eyes bulging. “She hit him with a club.” “Never mind, I shall meet this curious lady myself,” Britt said, brushing horse hair from her clothes.

I was going to bring Sir Kay and Gawain with me, but at the last minute Lancelot pushed Kay back.So I had no choice but to bring Lancelot in Kay’s place,” Merlin said, sounding just the smallest bit disgusted. “I find myself gladdened by this news,” Britt said. Merlin raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you?” Lancelot beamed. “I am pleased my presence delights you, My Lord.” “It’s not that. Since you kept Kay from coming to get me,in all likeliness that means you are now higher on his list of people to MAIM than I am,” Britt said. Merlin coughed to cover a laugh,

Have it in your heart and have it in your head. Let the Word of Christ dwell richly in you. Because when someone looks you in the eyes and says your five-year-old daughter has a cancerous tumor the size of a Nerf football, you better know some Bible.

All passion is childish. It's banal and naive. It's nothing we learn; it's instinctive, and so it overwhelms us. Overturns us. It bears us away in a flood. All other emotions belong to the earth, but passion inhabits the universe.

Only Merlin and her guards ever woke her in the mornings, and her guards only shouted to her through the doors. Britt picked her head off her pillow. “Merlin?” Merlin, once again standing out in the hallway, hissed through the door.“You’re still in bed.” “Yeah, so?” “It is indecent for you to allow a man into your bedchambers when you are still in bed!” Britt rolled her eyes and sat up. “What did you want?” “Get up. We’re going to mass.” “No, we’re not. You might be, but I’m not.” “Oh yes you are, you little heathen.” “It’s boring. The pastor only talks in Greek or Hebrew or whatever that language is.” “He’s the archbishop, and he conducts the service in Latin.” “Mmm, yeah that,” Britt said, falling back into her bed with a thump. “Do not lie back down you unschooled foundling!” “Too late,” Britt said. “If you want me to go to mass you’re going to have to drag me out of here. How indecent would that be?

All marriages have their bad sides, because all people have weaknesses. If you live with another human being you learn to handle these weaknesses in a variety of ways. For instance, you might take the view that weaknesses are a bit like heavy pieces of furniture, and based on this you must learn to clean around them. To maintain the illusion. Of course the dust is building up unseen, but you learn to repress this for as long as it goes unnoticed by guests. And then one day someone moves a piece of furniture without your say-so, and everything comes into plain view. Dirt and scratch marks. Permanent damage to the parquet floor. By then it’s too late.