Dani Love Quotes

Silver eyes met hers and locked. “I didn’t like Dani.” “At least you’re consistent,” she said coolly. His silver eyes were ice. “I loved her.

Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done.

What you get out of being loved, it’s supposed to be worth the compromise. When it’s good, it makes you want to compromise.

Let me be your anchor. I'll never let you be lost again.

She loves. And she doesn't know how to pull it back when you have to, because sometimes you sure as feck have to. Got to grab it up with both hands and pull it back before somebody turns into knives and uses it to cut you to pieces.

If you weaken, I'll be strong. If you get lost, I'll be your way home. If you despair, I'll bring you joy. I will love you until the end of time.

I love you more eternal than pi.

Love is Chocolate The unprocessed kind. Dark. Bitter. But always with the promise of sweet perfection. All it takes is sugar- that certain someone's kiss, flavored with possibility. If Dani has taught me anything, it's that life is brimming with possibilities. Every single day brings choices.

He’s happy, Yi-yi.” I went very still. “He, who?” “The one who danced you into love.

Are you in love with me?" I asked, grinding my nails into my palms. "Yes," he said simply. "But not yet

To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest. To live fully is to be always in no-man’s-land.

Then he slid one big, warm hand over the nape of her neck, squeezed, and said, “Don’t look so surprised. You know I love your brain.

I had one friend with same-sex orientation, and Dana hadn't spoken to me since I asked her to describe her honeymoon in graphic detail—and then made vibrator noises.

I love you, Dani Mega O’Malley,” Dancer said against my ear as he moved inside me. “More than the world is big. Deeper than the sky is blue. Truer than the universe is vast. I love you more eternal than pi.

It would be many years before I began to understand that all of life is practice: writing, driving, hiking, brushing teeth, packing lunch boxes, making beds, cooking dinner, making love, walking dogs, even sleeping. We are always practicing. Only practicing.

I love re-creating myself. Change means you get to choose again. Become something new. -Dani

The people who are with us by either happenstance or design during life-altering events become woven into the fabric of those events.

There is in each of us a fundamental split between what we think we know and what we know but may never be able to think.

Hurting a loved one was like running over someone’s foot; you rarely meant to do it, but the bones still broke.

Peter to Austin: “Here are the facts, Austin. You’ve been engaged four times. You’ve cheated on every single one of them. You’re cruel sometimes and superficial and spoiled and really fucked up emotionally. You talk about my being inscrutable, but you treat nothing as if it matters to you. Something terrible happens? You make a joke and shrug it off. You feel too much? You get angry and lash out at me. So no, I’m not in love with you. I’m fighting it every fucking step! I just wish I could stop it.

Sometimes I feel You were a plot twist In my story You were my serendipity.

At fourteen, I’d vowed, one day, I’d be the woman making him laugh, making joy blaze from his face, so tangible it seemed I might catch it in my hands.

Dani said this woman, with whom she’d lived for two years, had never known her. “I feel like people accept the first thing I show them,” she said, “and that’s all I ever am to them.

You’re ashamed of me. Because I’m fat. That’s why you don’t want them to see me.” She slit her eyes open just barely, lids heavy. “I’m not ashamed of you. And you’re not fat.” “Look at my belly,” he said tearfully, clutching it with both paws and jiggling. She smiled. “I like your belly. I think it’s a perfectly wonderful belly, all soft and round.

Love is funny. Even though you don't have that person anymore, you still have the feeling. You didn't lose your LOVE. You lost the tangible, tactile, sense-sational ability to experience the person or animal you lost.

Whiskey, glass, pour, toss back, glare. Repeat. “Cop out,” I slurred in retaliation, pointing the empty glass at Peter. “Don’t get drunk. Fuck. I need you sober,” he yelled, snatching the glass out of my hand. “There’s the problem right there. You need me sober. You need my help. You need something from me.” I laughed, tossing the bottle on the sofa, ignoring the glug glug glug as it emptied over my cushions. “And I just need you.” “Need me to what?” He asked with a huff, tipping the bottle right-side up. “Nothing. I just need you,” I whispered and flopped into a nearby recliner.

Fucking black was fucking exotic. And America loves to fuck exotic. Put black vengeance and white guilt together in the same bed and you had a night to remember!

Dani was starting to realize she'd treated the opinion of everyone who'd ever left her as an irrefutable truth: Danika Brown is not worthy of love. The trouble was, building a conclusion based on irrelevant or unreliable sources never worked. And when it came to Dani's worthiness, the only source she should really value was herself.

After listening to my entire story, he quietly said: "You can say, "This is impossible, terrible.' Or you can say, 'This is beautiful, wonderful.' You can imagine that you're in exile. Or you can imagine that you have more than one home.

Bessel van der Kolk: “The nature of trauma is that you have no recollection of it as a story.

You carry the pain and you also carry the reward.

You don't grieve love; you celebrate that you had it.

had not only saved her from her sins, but He loved her. Not based on how she measured up, but because she was His.

Fortunately nothing is unexpected with God, and so if I am not with you, know I am with Him and I will see you again one day. Be blessed, my dear Bailey. Be loved. Be open to all God has in store for you. And don’t be afraid to enjoy His gifts.

When I was in eighth grade, I used a self-timing camera to take nude pictures of myself in various stages of erection. I then exchanged my biology teacher’s slides with the images. The teacher, in a state of panic, kept rapidly pressing the ‘next’ button. It was like a pornographic flip-book. That was the last straw in a very heavy pile of straws. I was expelled, and I ended up transferring mid-year from boarding school to a public school near home.

I was beginning to see the danger in adhering to a single narrative, hewing to a story. The peril wasn't only in getting it wrong. It was a kind of calcification, a narrowing, a perversion of reality that hardened and stilled the spirit.

God is love, and when we pray we are drawing near to love, and all our hatred must melt away like the snow melts when the sun shines on it in spring. Leave Lucien to God, Annette. He rewards both good and evil, but remember, He loves Lucien just the same as He loves Dani.

It wasn't getting easier because it isn't supposed to get easier. Midlife was a bitch, and my educated guess was that the climb only got steeper from here. Carl Jung put it perfectly: "Thoroughly unprepared we take the step into the afternoon of life," he wrote. "Worse still, we take this step with the false assumption that our truths and ideals will serve us as hitherto. But we cannot live the afternoon of life according to the program of life's morning; for what was great in the morning will be little at evening, and what in the morning was true will by evening have become a lie." ... I was writing a new program for the afternoon of life. The scales tipped away from suffering and toward openheartedness and love. [p. 182]

You say goodbye to the people you love thousands of times in a lifetime: every time they walk out of the front door; every time you hang up the phone; every waved farewell. You just never know which of those goodbyes is going to be the last one.

It is the nature of trauma that, when left untreated, it deepens over time.

It turns out that it is possible to live an entire life—even an examined life, to the degree that I had relentlessly examined mine—and still not know the truth of oneself.

You know, sometimes life doesn’t give you what you want, but it gives you what you need.

Making love to a Negro isn't frightening; sleeping with him is. Sleep is complete surrender. It's more than nude; it's naked. Anything can happen during the night, when reason sleeps.

When God looks at you He sees His beloved child.” “Not me. You’re wrong.” “No. I’m not.” “How can you sound so certain?” “Because I know He loves you.” “How?” “Because He died for you.” Her lip quivered. “But I am so unworthy.” “We all are. That’s the beauty of God’s grace and the depth of Christ’s love. God loves you.

Always lists to be made, as if writing items in neat vertical rows might stave off randomness and chaos.

When Peter said he was romantic, it was in the way that I was romantic. A blow job and an “I love you” before rolling over and falling asleep.

He couldn't leave if he wanted to. His heart belonged to her.

Do you know the three great spiritual questions?" he asked..."Who am I?...Why am I here?...And how shall I live?

Throughout history, great philosophical minds have grappled with the nature of identity. What makes a person a person? What combination of memory, history, imagination, experience, subjectivity, genetic substance, and that ineffable thing called the soul makes us who we are? Is who we are the same as who we believe ourselves to be?

I touched follow on my phone's screen. I saw it—a vision—two half sisters who had never known of one another's existence, sending the most modern version of a smoke signal, each from her own coast. I see you. I see you, too.

In the country, I stopped being a person who, in the words of Sylvia Boorstein, startles easily. I grew calmer, but beneath that calm was a deep well of loneliness I hadn't known was there. ... Anxiety was my fuel. When I stopped, it was all waiting for me: fear, anger, grief, despair, and that terrible, terrible loneliness. What was it about? I was hardly alone. I loved my husband and son. I had great friends, colleagues, students. In the quiet, in the extra hours, I was forced to ask the question, and to listen carefully to the answer: I was lonely for myself. [p. 123]

Miz Beauty does not speak. You've got to discover her erogenous zones, her favorite subjects of conversation, her sign, all on your own. Meanwhile, Miz Piggy's coming like an express train. She doesn't get it every day. And she's hell-bent to make the most of it. She wants more, more, more.

I want to know why you love me. Because I don't make sense without you. You're part of me.

You are the only person that you'll have for the rest of your life. Cherish yourself. Treat yourself with kindness. Love yourself. Be your own caretaker.

If you feel like you're drowning, don't forget that it is just a feeling; it will pass with love and care. If you're actually drowning, then how are you reading this?

You deserve a great love story, Dani,” she says to me.

And how am I supposed to know what my limits are if I don’t test them out in a safe fashion with a partner who can get me medical treatment if I need it?” “Damn you and your logic.” Dani raised her arms in triumph. “Scientific method, bitch!

That’s just their way, honey. His father was the same way with Dee. Axel the same with me. Greg and Melissa. Maddox and Emmy. Asher and Chelcie. My sweet Dani with Cohen. Heck, even Davey had his moment with Sway. These men, it’s just how they are. When they set their minds to something there is nothing and no one that will hold them back. And sweetheart, before you even let this thought take root in your mind, when they know, they know and they know in a way that sticks forever.

I don’t want to be a presentist,” the author was saying. Presentism: the anachronistic introduction of present-day ideas and perspectives into depictions or interpretations of the past.

What am I now that I was then? / May memory restore again and again / The smallest color of the smallest day; / Time is the school in which we learn, / Time is the fire in which we burn.

Home. I knew some truths about that word now. You weren’t always born into one. But if you were lucky, you found one somewhere along the way. It was a place where you fit and were accepted, where people helped you with your problems and you helped them with theirs. Where you made mistakes and so did they but the love never wavered. A place where erosions never turned into landslides because you dug one another out. And always would.

I get it' Dani said, suprising me. 'When you watch one of these old movies in a place like this, you're connected to everybody else who's ever watched it. You can practically feel them around you.'" Libba Bray

he proclaimed that he didn’t need to work for a living because “the universe would provide.” When Dani was twelve, she asked Gramma how she felt about being called “the universe.” Dani got grounded for the weekend.

Dani had threatened to kill him. This must be the way she planned to do it. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders and she was wearing earrings that glittered in the sunlight. The purple dress she had on showed off her toned legs and hugged her curves. The supply of oxygen to his brain cut off, and he was pretty sure his heart had stopped a couple of beats ago.

I’m not sure how to sign off.  I almost wrote, ‘Love, Griffin,’ but I’m already afraid she will run scared from all the innuendo and other craziness she’s bringing out in me.  I hate being so far away.  I feel possessive of her.  I

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

Is who we are the same as who we believe ourselves to be?

I love my job because it never demands more than I can give. But lately I think I’ve been offering too much. Like maybe I’ve forgotten . . . balance.

Dani in front of me now is not the same person I'm dealing business with. Of course I'm different. I'm not working now. I'm flirting.

Being with him was going to be the most pain I would ever feel, but being with him was also going to be the most passion I would ever experience!

Christopher Bollas, writes: “There is in each of us a fundamental split between what we think we know and what we know but may never be able to think.

Dani sat back in her chair, a confused expression on her face. “Jillian, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but what the fuck is going on with your thumb?

I think—I think Zaf loves me,” Dani wailed. There was a moment of silence before Sorcha piped up cautiously, “Oh . . . no?

Hadn’t since the day she’d walked in on her first love merrily boinking someone else, and never would.

But gratitude and trauma weren’t mutually exclusive.

I tell my students, who are concerned with the question of betrayal, that when it comes to memoir, there is no such thing as absolute truth—only the truth that is singularly their own. I say this not to release them from responsibility but to illuminate the subjectivity of our inner lives. One person's experience is not another's.

I understand that you loved him," Ser Jorah said in a voice thick with despair. "I loved my lady wife once, yet I did not die with her. You are my queen, my sword is yours, but do not ask me to stand aside as you climb on Drogo's pyre. I will not watch you burn." "Is that what you fear?" Dany kissed him lightly on his broad forehead.

Dany "Bring me that book I was reading last night." She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved reading them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful. When her handmaiden brought the book, dany had no trouble finding the page where she had left off, but is was no good. She found herself reading the same passage half a dozen times. "Ser Jorah gave me this book as a bride's gift, the day I we'd Khal Drogo" She played at at being a queen, yet sometimes she felt like a scared little girl.

I believe that whenever someone you love dies, a part of you goes with them. I also think that every time someone new is brought into your life, a part of you is reborn. The circle of life and death is a balancing act, God’s way of making things even.

God’s love is, and has always been, constant. How precious and forgiving is the God I turned my back on years ago. Even through my hurt, rejection, and anger at life, He was the Father I never had, who loved me, disciplined me, and welcomed me, His prodigal daughter, home.

I don't understand why everyone loves you and feels this need to protect me against you or warn me against you." It was insulting, to tell the truth. Everyone just assumed she'd roll over... "Everyone just automatically assumes that you're after me and that I'm going to fall for you. It's insulting.

We did not spend our days gazing into each other’s eyes. We did that gazing when we made love or when one of us was in trouble, but most of the time our gazes met and entwined as they looked at a third thing. Third things are essential to marriages, objects or practices or habits or arts or institutions or games or human beings that provide a site of joint rapture or contentment. Each member of a couple is separate; the two come together in double attention. Lovemaking is not a third thing but two-in-one. John Keats can be a third thing, or the Boston Symphony Orchestra, or Dutch interiors, or Monopoly. For many couples, children are a third thing.” —

You're my friend, Dani. that's what we do. 'sides how can i love you forever if you're always stuck in detention alone?

I liked to pretend I was noble, to tell myself I wouldn’t draw someone into the fire, but threatened with the safety of the people I loved, I wouldn’t even hesitate.

High to low, roof to floor, wall to wall, and door to door; Basement deep to sky above, fill this home with light and love.

You love or hate someone, only when you don't know them enough.

But do you feel HELD by him, Dani? Does he feel like a HOME to you?

It isn't misery that loves company - no, no. Happiness loves company, and misery - misery just wants to be left alone

You take something that isn’t your own and you breathe life into it. You create it—and it becomes your creation. You are an agent to help my brother express the finest kind of love.

What makes a person a person? What combination of memory, history, imagination, experience, subjectivity, genetic substance, and that ineffable thing called the soul makes us who we are?

I have been writing all my life. Growing up, I wrote in soft-covered journals, in spiral-bound notebooks, in diaries with locks and keys. I wrote love letters and lies, stories and missives. When I wasn't writing, I was reading. And when I wasn't writing or reading, I was staring out the window, lost in thought. Life was elsewhere-I was sure of it-and writing was what took me there.

saying I am love; and regardless of what happens with Prince, with any more of my friends, I know that I am deserving of it and that true love will find me, because I am finding it within myself. Dani

If I dismiss the ordinary — waiting for the special, the extreme, the extraordinary to happen — I may just miss my life… To allow ourselves to spend afternoons watching dancers rehearse, or sit on a stone wall and watch the sunset, or spend the whole weekend rereading Chekhov stories—to know that we are doing what we’re supposed to be doing — is the deepest form of permission in our creative lives. The British author and psychologist Adam Phillips has noted, 'When we are inspired, rather like when we are in love, we can feel both unintelligible to ourselves and most truly ourselves.' This is the feeling I think we all yearn for, a kind of hyperreal dream state. We read Emily Dickinson. We watch the dancers. We research a little known piece of history obsessively. We fall in love. We don’t know why, and yet these moments form the source from which all our words will spring.

But I was at the threshold of understanding what Shirley had meant about my not being an accident of history. Or rather: either all of us are accidents of history or none of us are. One sperm, one egg, one moment. An interruption—a ringing phone, a knock on the door, a flashlight through the car window—a single second one way or the other and the result would be an entirely different human being. Mine was just more complicated, an accident involving vials, syringes, contracts, and secrets.

The end of this short story could be a rather disturbing thing, if it came true. I hope you like it, and if you do, be sure to COMMENT and SHARE. Paradoxes of Destiny? Dani! My boy! Are you all right? Where are you? Have you hurt yourself? Are you all right? Daniiii! Why won’t you answer? It’s so cold and dark here. I can’t see a thing… It’s so silent. Dani? Can you hear me? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving… I shouldn’t have done it! I'm so stupid sometimes! Son, are you all right?... We really wrecked the car when we rolled it! I can’t see or hear a thing… Am I in hospital? Am I dead…? Dani? Your silence is killing me… Are you all right?! I can see a glimmer of light. I feel trapped. Dani, are you there? I can’t move. It’s like I’m wrapped in this mossy green translucent plastic. I have to get out of here. The light is getting more and more intense. I think I can tear the wrapping that’s holding me in. I'm almost out. The light is blinding me. What a strange place. I've never seen anything like it. It doesn’t look like Earth. Am I dead? On another planet? Oh God, look at those hideous monsters! They’re so creepy and disgusting! They look like extraterrestrials. They’re aliens! I'm on another planet! I can’t believe it. I need to get the hell out here. Those monsters are going to devour me. I have to get away. I’m so scared. Am I floating? Am I flying? I’m going to go higher to try to escape. I can’t see the aliens anymore and the landscape looks less terrifying. I think I've made it. It’s very windy. Is that a highway? I think I can see some vehicles down there. Could they be the extraterrestrials’ transport? I’m going to go down a bit. I see people! Am I on Earth? Could this be a parallel universe? Where could Dani be? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving. I shouldn’t… That tower down there looks a lot like the water tank in my town… It’s identical. But the water tank in my town doesn’t have that huge tower block next to it. It all looks very similar to my neighborhood, but it isn’t exactly the same: there are a lot of tower blocks here. There’s the river… and the factory. It’s definitely my neighborhood, but it looks kind of different. I must be in a parallel universe… It’s amazing that I can float. People don’t seem to notice my presence. Am I a ghost? I have to get back home and see if Dani’s there. God, I hope he’s safe and sound. Gabriela must be out of her mind with the crash. There’s my house! Home sweet home. And whose are those cars? The front of the house has been painted a different color… This is all so strange! There’s someone in the garden… Those trees I planted in the spring have really grown. Is… is that… Dani? Yes, yes! It’s Dani. But he looks so different… He looks older, he looks… like a big boy! What’s important is that he’s OK. I need to hug him tight and tell him how much I love him. Can he see me if I’m a ghost? I'll go up to him slowly so I don’t scare him. I need to hold him tight. He can’t see me, I won’t get any closer. He moved his head, I think he’s started to realize I’m here… Wow I’m so hungry all of a sudden! I can’t stop! How are you doing, son?! It’s me! Your dad! My dear boy? I can’t stop! I'm too hungry! Ahhhh, so delicious! What a pleasure! Nooo Daniii! Nooooo!.... I’m your daaaad!... Splat!... “Mum, bring the insect repellent, the garden’s full of mosquitoes,” grunted Daniel as he wiped the blood from the palm of his hand on his trousers. Gabriela was just coming out. She did an about turn and went back into her house, and shouted “Darling, bring the insect repellent, it’s on the fireplace…” Absolute cold and silence… THE END (1) This note is for those who have read EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY. This story is a spin-off of the novel EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY and revolves around Letus’s curious theories about the possibility of animal reincarnation.

Qu'est-ce qu'un chien, sinon une machine à aimer ? On lui présente un être humain, en lui donnant pour mission de l'aimer - et aussi disgracieux, pervers, déformé ou stupide soit-il, le chien l'aime. Cette caractéristique était si surprenante, si frappante pour les humains de l'ancienne race que la plupart - tous les témoignages concordent - en venaient à aimer leur chien en retour. le chien était donc une machine à aimer à effet d'entraînement - dont l'efficacité, cependant, restait limitée aux chiens, et ne s'étendait jamais aux autres hommes. (La possibilité d'une île, Danie l25,2)

GUYS! Would you give it a rest?" Kevin shouted at them, "You're standing there feeding off each other! Dad – you're trying to prove to Ted why me and Dani are a Bad Thing – because you just can't bring yourself to admit that it isn't, even though you can SEE that it isn't! You know it! And Ted – you're pushing my dad's buttons on purpose because you're not so sure yourself how you really feel about us - her, me, any of it! So both of ya just SHUT THE HELL UP!" He turned back towards Dani, "Dani – you're beautiful and I love you – but this wasn't one of your best ideas. Now everyone just be quiet while I hit the stupid little white ball and make it go into the stupid little round hole! GAWD!" All three of them stared at Kevin while he swung. The stupid little white ball flew straight and high, and landed on the green. Apparently a little focus – no matter what it was directed towards – was just what Kevin needed.

You have to judge things by the result," Shirley continued. "And the result in which you can exult is that the very best was combined in you: grace, brains, creativity, beauty. Whatever alien, mechanical, outside element was in the story—it was a story of success. You have such a rich endowment. You have been so recompensed. You carry the heightened sensitivity, to be sure. You carry the pain and you also carry the reward." Her voice—hoarse from speaking for hours—was a part of me. Her strong hands, her expressive forehead, her sweet smile—all a part of me, because she had always been a part of me. I had been so afraid that blood would be all that mattered.

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. Mirri Maz Duur had fallen silent. The godswife thought her a child, but children grow, and children learn.

Once he stared the car, I said, “I just want you to know I’m paying for my meal, because I know it’ll be full price, and I didn’t want you to think I was expecting you to pay for it, because this isn’t a date. It’s just the team and the host sisters, brothers, whatever, getting together to have some fun tonight since it’s raining…or was raining…it’s obviously not raining now. And you’re just giving me a ride, not a meal.” Shut me up! Shut me up! Shut me up! He shifted into reverse, then backed out of the driveway. “I’m buying your dinner.” “No, really--” “Dani.” It was the first time I could recall him actually saying my name. I loved the way it just rumbled, his voice so deep, so perfect. I wanted him to say it again, over and over. But he’d stopped in the middle of the street. I figured any minute Dad was going to come barreling out of the house to find out what was wrong. I looked over at Jason. “I’m buying your dinner, as my thanks to you for convincing your family to host me. Just accept it, okay?” I nodded. “Okay.” He drove, and I settled into my seat, wondering what other surprises the night might hold.