Callahan Quotes

Cheating and lying aren't struggles, they're reasons to break up.

Sometimes I think I must have a Guardian Idiot. A little invisible spirit just behind my shoulder, looking out for me...only he's an imbecile.

Liam, soon-to-be-fucking-dead, Callahan was walking down the stairs—my fucking stairs—with his sex hair high and his green eyes sharper than razor blades. He was beautiful, and I almost regretted the fact that I would have to put a bullet in his head and then smash it through a fucking wall. -Melody G.

Sex is like air; it's not important unless you aren't getting any.

Your man Jesus seems to me a bit of a son of a bitch when it comes to women,´Roland said. ´Was He ever married?´ The corners of Callahan's mouth quirked. ´No´ he said, ´but His girlfriend was a whore.´ ´Well,´ Roland said, ´that's a start.´

You shouldn't give him a ride, Grace!" Meme snapped. "He's likely to strangle you and dump your body in the lake." "Is this true?" I asked Callahan. "I was thinking about it," he admitted.

All your life you're yellow. Then one day you brush up against something blue, the barest touch, and voila, the rest of your life you're green.

Don't worry, Mrs. Colder. For the most part, we keep him leashed and gagged. We only let him free when the cute little animal jokes are needed. ~Sherra Callahan (on Kane Tyler)~

Over time, hidden truths morph in the dark soil of deceit into something much worse.

I dare you to wait for me. The real me. The sober me. The best me who wants to spend the rest of his days getting drunk on life with you.

I was trained to turn loneliness into laziness.

May you find your Tower, Roland, and breach it, and may you climb to the top!

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.

Violet, there a reason Joe Callahan is lookin' at me like he wants to rip my head off?

Sometimes we know who we want to be and what we want to do long... long before we know how to get there.

Donegan Bane and Gracious O'Callahan - the Monster Hunters. Adventurers, inventors, authors of Monster Hunting for Beginners and it's sequels, Monster Hunting for Beginners is Probably Inadvisable and Seriously, Dude, Stop Monster Hunting.

Some guys step on a rake in the dark, and get mad and go punch somebody. Others step on a rake in the dark and fall down laughing at themselves. I know which kind of guy I'd rather be. So do my friends.

Infatuation burns itself out,' she says. 'Friendship mixed with old chemistry--that can last a lifetime.

I am Liam Fucking Callahan I don’t meet anyone halfway. They bend my way.

There will be water if God wills it.

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.

If only it were so easy to pick up the broken pieces of life, glue them back together, and cover them with paint like nothing had ever happened.

Just as there are laws of Conservation of Matter and Energy, so there are in fact Laws of Conservation of Pain and Joy. Neither can ever be created or destroyed. But one can be converted into the other.

Grief wraps around people, takes them to a place they would not go otherwise.

I shut myself off to make life bearable. I'm like a damn machine sometimes. Unfeeling. Uncaring. Emotionless.

there's nothing in the human heart or mind, no place no matter how twisted or secret, that can't be endured - if you have someone to share it with.

This is what I think. Addiction is just a way of trying to get at something else. Something bigger. Call it transcendence if you want, but it's a fucked-up way, like a rat in a maze. We all want the same thing. We all have this hole. The thing you want offers relief, but it's a trap.

...one of the secret masters of the world: a librarian. They control information. Don't ever p**s one off.

Reason is how we get to the truth, but imagination is how we find meaning.

Drew Callahan is my absolute weakness. Like a drug I can't get enough of. He's my addiction and if I'm honest with myself, I'm not looking to kick that particular habit anytime soon.

You don't always need proof to know something.

The right thing at the wrong time is never the right thing.

Shared sorrow is lessened, shared joy is increased

When you know you love someone, when you know it's finally the right time, you don't just wait around for the right words, you just say the sentences even if they're all mixed up and imperfect.

There are always consequences to the truth.

There were some things that needed to be said even if the person you were saying them to didn't understand; words that must be released from their trapped place where their flapping to get out could cause internal damage.

I was never without a book, just in case there were empty moments to slip into a life that wasn't mine.

But then you heard Sophie was coming to Hecate, and you decided to stay," Lara finished, and her lips twisted in the triumphant smile I'd seen on Mrs. Casnoff's face dozens of times. I stood there, frozen in place, as she turned back to me and said, "Mr. Callahan gave up a chance to travel the world with the Council so that he could be little more than a janitor on Graymalkin Island. For you.

Now you've got to ask yourself one question. Do I feel lucky? - Inspector Harry Callahan

One whiff of him and her libido went first-grader on her: hand raised, butt dancing in the chair as her hormones screamed, "Pick me! Pick me!

God might not fix things for me, but he would be with me in whatever waited ahead, that was clear.

It is not hopeless,” he said with surety. “It is uncertain, and this is the cross God always gives us in life, uncertainty. But it is not hopeless.

What on earth would become of me if I should ever grow brave?

We have to know the truth about the past to discover out future.

Sexual intercourse vests no property rights.

honesty is hard work.

I need you to get down there, open the stalls inside, and panic the horses.” “ ‘Panic’?” Gaston asked. “Smile at them or something.

It's like this," Nana says. "All your life you're yellow. Then one day you brush up against something blue, the barest touch, and voila, the rest of your life you're green.

To my mind, voyaging through wildernesses, be they full of woods or waves, is essential to the growth and maturity of the human spirit. It is in the wilderness that you really learn who you are.

...I know good design when I fail to trip over it.

This life is full of trials and tribulations, so you have to capture humor whenever and wherever you can find it.

Stars are made of dust and nitrogen; they are balls of gas and hydrogen. But that isn’t what a star is; it’s only what it is made of.

Let evil wait for the day on which it must fall.

Maybe you aren’t doubting that God will do the best for you, but wondering how painful the best might be.

At the heel end of the day, I need my glass of wine. Christmas lights for the brain.

The way stories change us can't be explained,' Padraig says. 'It can only be felt. Like love.

When I moved, I unearthed the diaries I kept for ten years. I sat and went through them and they were a worthless burden to own. People will say it's tragic I threw them out, but I know it isn't.

And there's this place called college! I mean, they want you to care, dig it, care about this education trip, and they don't care enough themselves to make it as attractive as the crap game across the street!

I don't want to destroy anything. But I want to know what I can destroy.

If you knew all the answers, there'd be no need for trust, little one.

Avoiding risk is not much of a goal...whether you crawl into a hole or walk a high wire, nobody gets out of here alive. We cannot grow without challenge.

Progress is something with no pity, and no purpose. It just happens. It chews up all you ever knew, and spits out things you can't understand, and the only value it seems to have is to make a few people a lot of money.

And I hope each morning you wake like a bird in a nest and fly without a thought.

It is not about how it ends; it is about the journey. The full story. You have to know the full story to care about or know the ending.

You are the reason I get out of bed. To tell you that I have gotten out of bed.

You need to start doing what's uncomfortable for you, April. Because your idea of what feels right took a left turn somewhere.

I’d believed— fool that I was— that because I knew this end was coming, I was prepared, that I would not grieve as I had. As if one can pre-grieve and get it out of the way. It’s not true. Grief is the price I paid for loving fiercely, and that was okay, because there was no other choice but to love fiercely and fully.

Maybe we are each and every one of us born with our own stories, and we must decide how to tell those stories with our own life, or in a book . . . Or could it be that all our stories come from one larger story?

Because we're all rainbow-colored inside, each of us a different arrangement, of course. The kiss just makes all the colors more concentrated, so intense they can be hard to look at. Or feel, rather. Like a Mediterranean sunset.

Opinions are like assholes, everbody's got one.

Sometimes we tell our stories and sometimes our stories tell us.

Souls bound together can't be forever torn apart by distance and neither by death.

Be careful what you believe - it is who you are.

Let the story settle inside you. Let it move and twist around until you see what it has to say to you.

His intensity added that extra special something - sort of like the special sauce on a Big Mac - to the OMG factor.

He does kiss like a pirate though, I was able to re-affirm that.

I hope you never understand what it is to know that all you believed is wrong--sorely wrong.

You need to take care of the root in order to heal the tree. - Gullah Proverb

If you've lived a bad life, they send you to Hell. But if you've been truly wicked, they give you a tour of Heaven first...

The fantastic and the imaginative aren't escapism . . . Good stories introduce the marvelous. The whole story, paradoxically, strengthens our relish for real life. This excursion sends us back with renewed pleasure to the actual world. It provides meaning. . . It takes us out of ourselves and lets us view reality from new angles. It expands our awareness of the world.

This is what it is to be human: to see the essential existential futility of all action, all striving -- and to act, to strive. This is what it is to be human: to reach forever beyond your grasp. This is what it is to be human: to live forever or die trying. This is what it is to be human: to perpetually ask the unanswerable questions, in the hope that the asking of them will somehow hasten the day when they will be answered. This is what it is to be human: to strive in the face of the certainty of failure. This is what it is to be human: to persist.

I'm gonna kick your ass, Callahan." "Really? You and what army?" She probably weighed about a hundred pounds. We both knew she wasn't kicking anyone's ass. "Don't get too cocky. One of these days, I'll figure out a way to take you down." I laughed and said, "Oooh, I'm scared, Anna." What I didn't admit, though, was that she could have brought me to my knees with one touch of her hand, if she put it in the right place. I wondered if she knew that.

I sometimes see a shortcoming in myself, how little patience or understanding I have for many people in the way they act. I am able to see the fragility in some, but I only have so much time to wade through their manipulations and traps and draining behaviour. Some people think I'm heartless in leaving others to suffer their own selves.

Do you know the German word, sehnsucht," he asked. "Yes," I answered. "The idea of an inconsolable longing for what we don't understand. You believe that longing is for God. Or heaven. And that we can confuse it with longing for someone or something else.

In 1971, after seven years in college, with that magic piece of paper clutched triumphantly in my fist, the best job I was able to get was night watchman on a sewer project in Babylon, N.Y. guarding a hole in the ground to prevent anyone from stealing it. God bless the American educational system!

This is the thing we must guard against: that others' expectations, especially our families', do not become our own.

Stories are always braided together - one affecting the other.

A drink centers me but I usually make myself wait until at least 9:00 PM for that. Or 8:00 PM. Whichever comes first.

A broken heart, too much cold beer, ocean waves and a willing man were never a good combination, no matter what the country songs said.

You tolerate what you must when it becomes your reality.

I’d once heard Jack say, or had I read it, that sometimes a soul would cry out, “Thy will be done” to God and other times, with fury say instead, “Fine, have it your way.

I always thought we were meant to be. I might have screwed up the timing a bit, but that doesn’t change the fact that there is no one I want more in this world than you.

Every life should be guided and enriched by one book or another, don’t you agree? Certainly, every formative moment in my life has been enriched or informed by a book. You must be very careful about what you choose to read— unless you want to stay stuck in your opinions and hard-boiled thoughts, you must be very careful.

I wish I could describe the feeling of being at sea, the anguish, frustration, and fear, the beauty that accompanies threatening spectacles, the spiritual communion with creatures in whose domain I sail. There is a magnificent intensity in life that comes when we are not in control but are only reacting, living, surviving. I am not a religious man per se. My own cosmology is convoluted and not in line with any particular church or philosphy. But for me, to go to sea is to glimpse the face of God. At sea i am reminded of my insignificance-- of all men's insignificance. It is a wonderful feeling to be so humbled.

People say it all the time--'follow your heart.' What are we supposed to do--take our heart out and walk around behind it--follow it down the sidewalk to the mall? Your feet will lead you to your heart. Ha! "Maybe it just means you should know your heart, because if you know it, you might do what it says to do. I don't think it means you do whatever you damn well please. I don't think the heart speaks very loudly either--just tosses you hints and whispers.

...my father had been born from the minds of writers. I believed the Great Creator had flown these writers on the backs of thunderbirds to the moon and told them to write me a father. Writers like Mary Shelley, who wrote my father to have a gothic understanding of the tenderness of all monsters. It was Agatha Christie who created the mystery within my father and Edgar Allan Poe who gave darkness to him in ways that lifted him to the flight of the raven. William Shakespeare wrote my father a Romeo heart at the same time Susan Fenimore Cooper composed him to have sympathy toward nature and a longing for paradise to be regained. Emily Dickinson shared her poet self so my father would know the most sacred text of mankind is in the way we do and do not rhyme, leaving John Steinbeck to gift my father a compass in his mind so he would always appreciate he was east of Eden and a little south of heaven. Not to be left out, Sophia Alice Callahan made sure there was a part of my father that would always remain a child of the forest, while Louisa May Alcott penned the loyalty and hope within his soul. It was Theodore Dreiser who was left the task of writing my father the destiny of being an American tragedy only after Shirley Jackson prepared my father for the horrors of that very thing.

She doesn't use her neck. She only acknowledges things that come at her head on. And she's one of those people that answer your question before you even get through it. And the answer always begins with No, even if it's Yes. Or worse, No no no.

The problems of today's youth were no longer a Sunday supplement, or a news broadcast, or anything so remote and intangible. They were suddenly become a dirty, shivering boy, who told us that in this world we had built for him with our sweat and our blood, he was not only tired of living, but so unscared of dying that he did it daily, sometimes for recreation.

He props his elbow on the table, absently scratches his temple with his index finger, and I remember exactly what that index finger did to me earlier. How he circled my nipples with that finger, how he slipped it between my legs, drenched it with my wetness and then brought it up to his mouth, licking it, tasting me, his gaze never leaving mine…

Much of what I’d done — mistakes, poems, manipulations, success and books and sex — had been done merely to get love. To get it. To answer my question: do you love me? . . . From that moment on, the love affair I would develop would be with my soul. [God] was already part of me; that much was clear. And now this would be where I would go for love — to the God in me. No more begging or pursuing or needing. Possibly it was only a myth, Jack’s myth [Til We Have Faces], that could have obliterated the false belief that I must pursue love in the outside world — in success, in acclaim, in performance, in a man. The Truth: I was beloved of God. Finally I could stop trying to force someone or something else to fill that role