Donovan Quotes

I love that picture, he admitted softly. I think it's because I love the girl in that picture.

Love helped me live life instead of just survive it.

In the balance of love and loss, it was love that made me struggle to… Breathe.

I noticed you tore down Donovan's house." He lifted his gaze until it locked with mine. "He's alive because he left town. His house chose to stay. It paid the price.

Well let’s get you back to hell before the devil realizes you’re not home.

Mother is a verb. It's something you do. Not just who you are.

My world was delicately balanced, but the scales never hung even. When something improved, something else had to crumble.

Every breath I breathe is because of you. Even when your weren't there to save me, you were my reason to breathe. And for that I will always love you. Always.

We were engaged in a very intricate dance of touching without touching, knowing without saying, and feeling without expressing. We were friends walking along a ledge, a very thin ledge - and I was too caught up in my heightened awareness of his existence to realize how close the ledge was to crumbling beneath my feet.

I knew there was going to be pain whether I did anything wrong or not – so maybe I should do something to actually deserve it.

Now I was left holding the pieces of my heart, crushed by my own hands.

And just because you didn’t admit it, you were stupid for each other from almost day one. So even though you’ve been dating for a couple of weeks, you’ve been each other’s person for a lot longer. - Sara

I knew in that moment, I would never love anyone in my life the way I loved Evan Mathews.

I love him more than he will ever know. And because of that, I choose his happiness.

How long have you been holding those words in your head, hoping to use them?

Remember there is always a choice. I chose to live. I chose to love. I chose to breathe.

Living in the mistakes of your past isn't going to do anything but destroy your future.

Don't look back, it has already past. Don't look forward, it has yet to happen. Live in the now, exactly where you're supposed to be.

Sometimes you have to be a high riding bitch to survive, sometimes, being a bitch is all a woman has to hang on to.

I guess you just don't pay attention. I think you're too busy attempting to fade.

I'm not supposed to live without you. And you're not supposed to live without me. We're in this life together. Without each other, we're not really living.

Like a shot from a movie, the morning sun shone brilliantly around him like a god—his dark hair glinted warmly in the light, and his eyes gleamed bluer than the south Pacific Ocean. Taylor's mind went blank. And suddenly, she couldn't remember why the hell she ever had been angry with Jason Andrews. But then he spoke. "Sleeping in this morning, Ms. Donovan?" he drawled. Moment over.

It was more important for me to try, than to not have the chance at all.

He gave me his word. That means something to a man like Donovan Caine. Yeah, it means you'll realize he's an exceptionally good liar when you're clutching your intestines and choking on your own blood on his living room floor.

He leaned toward me and delicately grazed my lips with his. The tease left me breathless, burning for more. “I keep having to remind myself that I can do that,” he smirked.

These past two days, I’ve seen a fire in your eyes that I never have before. Granted, it’s mostly anger and frustration, but it’s still emotion.

Maybe it's because once you put all the pieces together, you end up with something beautiful.

This is really good,” Donovan Caine said, attacking his third strawberry pancake. “You sound surprised,” I said. He shrugged. “I just didn’t think an assassin would be able to cook like this.” “Well, I do get lots of practice with knives. You could say I’m multitasking.” The detective froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m kidding. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me.

Tanned, toned, curves in the right places and that small waist…lips, hair, eyes all packaged up like a siren. If she’s a siren, I heard her call, and I’m diving in hook, line, and sinker. - Drew Donovan

Rocket," I said, straightening in the chair. "Donovan was just helping me with my contacts." Donovan raised his brows humorously. Rocket furrowed his. "Did you swallow them?

It's beautiful," I breathed, admiring the powerful emotion and truth frozen in the single shot. "I love that picture," he admitted softly. "I think it's because I love the girl in that picture.

In the balance of love and loss, it was love that made me struggle to… Breathe.

Not being liked was so much worse than being invisible.

He won't be one of those girlishly pretty men with curly gold hair...He'll be dark, dangerous, too. Brave, certainly, but not without flaws. I like my heroes human.

You've got a thing for Donovan Caine. You have ever since you killed Ingles, his partner, and he went all dogged and determined on you.

Success in fighting means not coming at your opponent the way he wants to fight you.

Open your eyes and live.

She'd even violated the only sensible rule of dieting she'd ever run across, the sage advice of the Muppets' Miss Piggy, who recommended never eating anything bigger than your head.

I was so tired of fighting. Tired of hurting. Tired of the guilt that never released me, and the regrets that could not be changed. I didn't want this life. They're were only so many times I could hear that I should never have been born, before I wished it to be true.

I survived by keeping my emotions in check – by maintaining my composure and tucking it all away. I managed to stay under the radar, skating through school without anyone truly remembering I was here. My teachers acknowledged my academic successes and my coaches depended upon my athletic abilities, but I wasn’t important enough to make a recognizable social contribution. I was easily forgettable. That’s what I counted on.

There are so many other people in this school-you don't have to know me." "But I want to," he replied with a grin.

In the uneven balance of life, I'd experienced love and loss. The loss challenged me to be strong, but it was the love that supported me when I was weak. I was a survivor.

What was that about? His mother is practically gushing over you. Not to mention that he’s holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Forget about dating - are you having a wedding you forgot to invite me to?

I'm stuck. I'm stuck in yesterday, and you're tomorrow.

Was it better to get as much out of the moment as possible, knowing it could slip out from under you in a second? Was the actual experience better than the inevitable conclusion?

He was a breath of fresh air after the heart wrenching storm that had engulfed me.

Donovan Caine wanted me, but he wasn’t strong enough to accept me. Not my past, not my strength, not the woman I was. Bitter disappointment filled me, replacing my rage, but I forced myself to ask the final question I wanted an answer to...

Are you worried you'd miss me if I left?

I pushed him away. So he left.

This was just the beginning of our healing. Of being forgiven. I knew I would struggle with it at times, and feel like I was fighting for every breath. I just had to remember, there was always a choice. And I chose to live. I chose to love. I chose to breathe.

I don't understand. You still...love me?" "Yeah, I do. And I know you're not the same girl. But I'm in love with you, Emma. I fell in love with you all over again this summer. People change. I know this. And we'll continue to change. That just means I'll get to fall in love with you again. Because no matter what happens in our lives, what I feel for you will survive anything.

Let the best stories you tell be of your own life.

He didn’t need to touch me. His attention alone, recognizing my existence, send a flurry of sparks through my body.

Every breath I breathe is because of you.' His eyes flickered, still peering into mine. 'Even when you weren't there to save me, you were my reason to breathe. And for that I will always love you. Always.

Knowing you were right down the hall was way too hard. I couldn’t do it,” Evan declared, sliding under the covers next to me.

The most memorable moments in life start with the willingness to be vulnerable.

I couldn't catch my breath. I buried my face in his shirt. He was my reason for existing. It was his words that pulled me to the surface. His breath that saved me. And now, his arms that held me within this life, unable to give up. He was my strength, and the love I didn't have for myself. And I couldn't live without him more than he could let me go.

I think I like wildflowers best," I explain. "They just grow wherever they want. No one has to plant them. And then their seeds blow in the wind and they find a new place to grow." (Richelle)

I’m fucking demanding, and you should know that if you ever feel like experimenting and ask me for a threesome, I’m most likely to cut off your dick and feed it to my neighbor’s Chihuahua.

Love hits you when you least expect it, grabs you, sucks you in whole, and twists you around until you could hardly breathe. Love hurts like a sucker punch, that's both glorious and beautiful. Falling for Summer was like that for me, every time.

It’s tragic to think that heroic man’s great destiny is to become economic man, that men will be reduced to craven creatures who crawl across the globe competing for money, who spend their nights dreaming up new ways to swindle each other. That’s the path we’re on now. What a withering, ignoble end…

You are not showing her my baby pictures!” He sounded horrified, which made me laugh. “Come on, Evan,” I teased with a laughing smile, “you were adorable.

Sometimes men pick fights just for something to do-just to feel something like the threat of harm and the possibility of triumph.

I just had to remember, there was always a choice. And I choose to live. I chose to love. I chose to breathe.

I trusted you," Evan bellowed, as the distance grew between us. I stopped and turned back around. He walked towards me until we were only a foot apart. "I trusted you, and you couldn't trust me." I stared back, watching the hurt reveal itself in his eyes. My heart ached in return. "I unpacked for the first time ever - for you. I was honest with you about everything-even with the truth about how I felt about you. I've never been that honest before. I trusted you." His voice drifted into a whisper as he leaned closer to me. "Why couldn't you trust me?

I looked down, unable to meet the intensity in Nat’s eyes. Tonight, my crush for Nat had moved beyond a crush. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the more we clashed, the more we wanted each other." - Summer, Perfect Summer

I do,” Drew admitted, his eyes devouring my body appreciatively. “But with you…I want so much more, Summer. So much more than you’re willing to give me.” He paused, “Every single touch, every single look you give me, I cherish.

It was better to try and fail, than to never have the experience

No, but I do read a lot. I love to read. I could read for days and never stop. I use to be such a bookworm. I would barely look up to notice much of anything.

You were my reason to breathe.

Men of ideas and men of action have much to learn from each other, and the truly great are men of both action and abstraction.

Sara started choking. I turned toward her convulsions. "Sorry, " she whispered, her face bright red. "Some bullshit caught in my throat.

What if I don't want to be friends with you?" he challenged, grinning again, staring directly into my eyes. Obviously taking me seriously was an impossibility for Evan. Despite not being able to breathe, I connected with his taunting gaze and refused to look away. "Then we won't be friends," I said flatly. "What if I want to be more than friends?

You can’t keep it all inside, Emma. Cry. Scream if you have to, but don’t let it destroy you. I wish you wouldn’t underestimate your strength.

I can't..." Her voice broke. "I can't do this any more." "Then I'll do it for you," I rasped, my throat closing. "Let me love you enough for the two of us, until you can accept you're worth it. Because you are, Emma. I don't know how to convince you. But I'll spend the rest of my life trying. You can't give up on me now. I won't let you.

My Google search history alone was probably enough to put me on a government watch list. I wrote suspense novels about murders like this. I’d searched every possible way to kill someone. With every conceivable kind of weapon.

It always comes back to forgiving, doesn't it?

This was the first house where I'd unpacked every single box, wanting to stay. All because of a girl with a fiery attitude and a blush that let me know exactly what she thought of me. That's all it took, and I was hers.

I never gave him a chance to decide if I was worth loving. I'd taken that choice away from him - because I feared what it would be.

Are you already assuming there’s an us?" "I’m getting ready for when there is.

Have you ever met a man who looked so damn delicious that you wanted to sop him up with a hot buttermilk biscuit and inhale him in one gulp?” “Why, yes, I have,” Doris said. That was a shocker. “Really? What happened?” “I married him.

People can talk tough without having to do the primitive math of violence, because they believe that law enforcement will either intervene and stop or punish an attacker.

That's stupid." I stopped to look at him. "why would you want everyone assuming something that isn't true?" "Why should I care?" "So you can ask someone you're interested in to go to the dance with you," I replied, not expecting his lack of concern. "I just did.

I cried for the little girl who lost her father but never had a mother. I cried for the girl who only wanted to be accepted, but was never enough. I cried for the girl who suffered unfathomable pain at the hands of hate. I cried for the girl who deserved to be loved but didn't know how.

Most things I consider fun aren't for the faint of heart, and the way I like to "play it" isn't always conventional. Is that something you think you can handle?" Special Agent Logan Brandenburg

Having difficulty deciding? Or are you afraid of tapping into that emotion? I'm sorry you have to feel it, but I think you can create something amazing if you let yourself explore it. It may not help you heal, but it may help you process it.

Civilization comes at a cost of manliness. It comes at a cost of wildness, of risk, of strife. It comes at a cost of strength, of courage, of mastery. It comes at a cost of honor. Increased civilization exacts a toll of virility, forcing manliness into further redoubts of vicariousness and abstraction

Men cannot be men—much less good or heroic men—unless their actions have meaningful consequences to people they truly care about. Strength requires an opposing force, courage requires risk, mastery requires hard work, honor requires accountability to other men. Without these things, we are little more than boys playing at being men, and there is no weekend retreat or mantra or half-assed rite of passage that can change that. A rite of passage must reflect a real change in status and responsibility for it to be anything more than theater. No reimagined manhood of convenience can hold its head high so long as the earth remains the tomb of our ancestors

Evan Mathews, you can tell yourself and everyone else that you're here to get answers, for closure. But the truth is, you love her. You will always love her. You're here because you can't walk away. You saw how broken and empty she was back in Weslyn, and you had to follow her. You'll never be able to let her go. You're here because ... it's where you belong, with her.

I grinned. “So you are human after all.” I touched his chest, feeling him breathe hard in and out. “I always thought you were made of steel, you know,” I said. “Superman?” Nat arched his eyebrows. “No, the Tin Man,” I answered back. I settled my head against his chest, turning my ear to listen to his heartbeat. “I sometimes wondered if you had a heart.” - Summer, Perfect Summer

Although she was a logical, practical person, she believed that in books there existed a kind of magic. Between the aging covers on these shelves, contained in tiny, abstract black marks on sheets of paper, were voices from the past. Voices that reached into the future, into Claire's own heart and mind, to tell her what they knew, what they'd learned, what they'd seen, what they'd felt. Wasn't that magic?

The famous Zen parable about the master for whom, before his studies, mountains were only mountains, but during his studies mountains were no longer mountains, and afterward mountains were again mountains could be interpreted as an allegory about [the perpetual paradox that when one is closest to a destination one is also the farthest).

I couldn't believe I let him see me like this, unable to fend for myself. I fumed in disgust at my vulnerability. I didn't want Evan to think I needed protecting. I pulled back my torment and let the numb blanket envelop me, pushing away the stirred memories, the noise of the crowd, and the trembling that still lay beneath the surface. I stared at the flames licking at the darkness and everything was lost as I sank deeper into nothingness.

People change. I mean you barely know who you are when you enter, and you spend that time figuring out what you want from life, and who you want in it. The next thing you know, the people you always thought would be there, aren't. A nd the person you thought you could trust with everything, isn't the person you ever knew at all.

It’s a widely known fact that most moms are ready to kill someone by eight thirty A.M. on any given morning. On the particular morning of Tuesday, October eighth, I was ready by seven forty-five. If you’ve never had to wrestle a two-year-old slathered in maple syrup into a diaper while your four-year-old decides to give herself a haircut in time for preschool, all while trying to track down the whereabouts of your missing nanny as you sop up coffee grounds from an overflowing pot because in your sleep-deprived fog you forgot to put in the filter, let me spell it out for you. I was ready to kill someone. I didn’t really care who.

In the uneven balance of my life, I'd experienced love and loss. The loss challenged me to be strong, but it was the love that supported me when I was weak. I was a survivor. And now I wanted to focus on living my life. This was just the beginning of our healing. Of being forgiven. I knew I would struggle with it at times, and feel like I was fighting for every breath. I just had to remember, there was always a choice. And I chose to live. I chose to love. I chose to breathe.

She reached to give him an awkward hug, and when he hugged her back, his hand accidentally touched her belly. It was surprisingly hard and something shifted beneath the surface. “Oh, shit!” he yelped, jerking back. “What’s wrong?” “It, uh, moved.” “Feels like an alien, doesn’t it? I swear to God, I have nightmares that it’s going to burst out of my stomach like a monster. But I think it’s pretty harmless.

When men evaluate each other as men, they still look for the same virtues that they’d need to keep the perimeter. Men respond to and admire the qualities that would make men useful and dependable in an emergency. Men have always had a role apart, and they still judge one another according to the demands of that role as a guardian in a gang struggling for survival against encroaching doom. Everything that is specifically about being a man—not merely a person—has to do with that role

Strength, Courage, Mastery, and Honor are the alpha virtues of men all over the world. They are the fundamental virtues of men because without them, no “higher” virtues can be entertained. You need to be alive to philosophize. You can add to these virtues and you can create rules and moral codes to govern them, but if you remove them from the equation altogether you aren’t just leaving behind the virtues that are specific to men, you are abandoning the virtues that make civilization possible.

I don't know how to fit you in my world without hurting you too." The truth in my words revealed more than he'd ever know. "Don't worry about hurting me," he replied calmly. "I like being a part of your world, and I understand that it's more complicated than you're willing to share with me. But I'll respect that, for now." He pulled into the parking lot of a drugstore and put the car in park. Evan seemed nervous as he turned to speak to ne. He released a quick breath before he spoke. My chest tightened, afraid to hear what he had to say." "I don't do this." His hands gestured between us. My eyes narrowed, trying to inerpret his meaning. He exhaled and looked out the windshield. "I don't stay, and I'm used to that. And I'm always prepared to leave-because I have to eventually. He stopped again, frustrated with himself. I sat motionless, absolutely convinced I didn't want him to continue - but I couldn't bring myself to ask him to stop. "I want to stay here," he finally decalred. "It would bother me if I left. I mean, I've already unpacked.