Ds Love Quotes

Love is a necessity, just as lust is. Two instincts we modern humans have turned into our strongest emotions. Love gives us the desire to bond with a partner long enough to care for our children to an age when they can fend for themselves. Lust gives us the will to want to reproduce in the first place. These instincts are so deeply ingrained in our psyche that even with our advanced brains, they still govern us. We are now, for the most part, intelligent enough to decide who we want to love or have sex with. We can even control whether or not that sex results in offspring, but we can’t just ignore those instincts. From the simplest person to the most powerful kings, queens and presidents, our our lives are still governed by those two emotions.

Something strange started to rage inside me, hearing you inhale sharply as I tried to kiss those scars away or etch them deeper into your skin, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way.

How can the most cruel and despicable create something as breathtaking beautiful as this?

It is the touch of a lover's arms that I so desperately crave, not the memories of a love no longer mine.

Speak pussycat; tell your Master you love him.” Dylan

She breathes in as I breathe out and her lungs fill with the air that was inside of me. I love her completely and I love giving her life as she gives me life. I breathe in her quintessence and it’s cathartic.

One minute you are loved, and then you are not.

I guess she truly is a switch. Shy on the outside and submissive most of the time but with a feisty controlling side to her. I love that she’s unpredictable like that. It makes life interesting.

I love him entirely, completely, eternally and infinitely, and beyond the stars and universe

We have a lifetime ahead of us to decide what we're going to do. I love you; heart and soul, and we're going to grow old together. We'll make things right and find our way, no matter how long it takes or where life takes us.

This daemon loves men whose marriage beds have grown cold, so she can set them ablaze.

You are a sadist,” she pouts at me. I laugh at her. “Yes, I am. In more ways than you can imagine, my love.

Dom is generous, loving and respectful to not only his submissive, but all women. He is gentlemanly in public, but playful in private and a savage in the bedroom.

Mistress Isabel ties me down and pushes my limits of pain and pleasure, and I’m the one screaming out her name. True love, power exchange, contentment and most importantly, trust – have finally graced me with their presence and my life with Isa is complete.

Can you paint this for me, love? Can you put this on canvas? Your stunning cunt being fucked by me? Can you capture all of the detail? The shimmering wetness? I want you to paint this for me, Isa. Tell me you can.” Yes, Sir, I can paint this for you,” she breathes out with a sigh and a moan…

All I think about is you.” He moves my hand to his chest and I feel his heart beating rapidly against my palm and his eyes gloss over. “I love and live for only you.” Then he guides my hand down to his crotch. He’s completely erect and his dick is pressing firmly inside his slacks. “I want only you,” he says as he presses his forehead against mine. God I love this man.

Since I’m not sure what you’ve read or been told, I’ll tell you what submission is to me and probably most, if not all submissives. It’s more than a sexual experience, Mr. Morrison. It’s a bond so powerful that it contains the very soul of the submissive. A man’s domination and acceptance of the gift of submission is the greatest expression of love I believe there to be.

Your laughter is louder than my personal demons' whispers.

You already made your point,” I say with a mouthful of fruit. “Did I?” “Oh, for the love of dick, yes. Now leave me alone.” “Never. If you want, I’ll fuck you now.” The gall. I wouldn’t fuck him now if my clit was on fire and needed to be doused with nub-saving cum. I roll my eyes at him. “No thanks, we have a lifetime of fucking ahead of us,” I say mockingly. He shrugs and starts to walk away as if it makes no difference to him one way or the other. He’s such a jackass sometimes. Before I can stop myself I throw my half-eaten banana at him and it hits him on the back of his neck. He spins around, wipes his neck and looks down at the banana on the floor. “Did you really just fruitally assault me?” He thinks he’s so damned funny with his wordplay.

When the mere act of being in a D/s relationship or engaging in BDSM activities reaches a societal tipping point where it is no longer simply socially unacceptable, it becomes borderline criminal, an amazing thing will begin to happen. Some Warrior Princess Submissives will drop their stealth cloaks and step out of the shadows to defend the lifestyle and the Dominants that they love. They will do this, despite their intense fears and despite a whole host of other very real hardships that will ensue because they are, above all else, loyal to their Dominants. They will do it because they are righteous crusaders who aren't afraid to fight the good fight, no matter how unpopular or untenable their positions might seem. They will do it because they are the only ones who can.

There was a snort, and then his brother’s sarcasm came spilling out. “It can be your eHarmony ad, bro. Wanted: smart, independent woman to play at D/s. Must like handcuffs, spankings, and anal sex.

So do we get our happily ever after now?” I ask. He kneels down in front of me and grabs my hands and kisses the tops of them. “Yes, our version of happily ever after,” he answers with sparkling blue eyes. “The version with whips and cuffs, right?” I ask. “That’s the only kind of happily ever after I want, love.

In my personal opinion, it’s those people who deny their sexuality that need the help, not people like me and Isa. We’re living out our fantasies with each other, we’re not hurting anyone and it’s completely consensual. Why can’t the world understand that? Fuck anyone who has the nerve to judge the way we decide to love each other.

In the eyes of God, we're all perfect and we all have unlimited capacity to express brilliantly. I say unlimited capacity rather than unlimited potential because potential can be a dangerous concept. We can use it to tyrannize ourselves, to live in the future instead of the present, to set ourselves up for despair. We're constantly measuring ourselves against what we think we could be, rather than what we are. Potential is a concept which can bind us to personal powerlessness Focus on human potential becomes impotent without a focus on human capacity. Capacity is expressed in the present, it is immediate, the key to it lies not in what we have inside of us, but rather in what we are willing to own that we have inside of us. There's no point in waiting until we're perfect at what we do, or enlightened masters, or PhDs in life, before opening ourselves to what we're capable of doing now. Of course we're not as good today as we'll be tomorrow, but how will we ever get tomorrow's promise without making some sort of move today?

Protect that girl, Balthazar. She is an innocent in all of this.” “Why does she want Nikolas to gain his humanity?” “She believes they are in love.” The absurdity of D’s words hit Balthazar square in the gut. He would have doubled over if he didn’t find the reason pathetic. Thankfully, he managed to keep the laughter in his head. “Love? Nikolas?

Take them off," I order and without hesitation she removes them and drops them on the floor. She lifts her cami so I can see her, then rubs her hand over her tummy and over the top of her mound while she watches me. When I look into her eyes she's licking her lips. "Do you like what you see?" she asks playfully. "You know I do." "Good. When you apologize, you can have some." Oh, hell no. "Let me remind you, as your husband and your Master, I don't need your permission. I'll have some with or without an apology, but because I love you and because it was a shitty thing for me to accuse you of, I'll apologize anyway. So for what's worth - I'm sorry for accusing you of hitting on Sawyer. I love you. Now open your legs like a good wife and let me fuck you.

His love with Lucy bled from his heart as he slipped into a dark despair— a melancholy that only she could sever with her chaste voice and tender kisses. Now in an unreachable darkness, a blindness took hold. A blood lust that would drive him mad for five years hence.

Mothers know exactly what their kids are going through. It must be a complex interplay of genes and hormones and some unknown links from the nearly ten months spent inside their body. Somehow, they sniff our sadness, somehow, they perceive our fault lines, and somehow, they connect with us on a subconscious level.

You said you wanted to know some of my secrets so here it goes. I like to fuck hard and I like inflicting pain while I do it. I also like to see you uncomfortable.” He starts out sounding very determined, but then he looks embarrassed and he looks away from me. When he looks back at me again, his eyes are softer. “But it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. I do; more than life itself. So please, Isa, if you want me to be happy, then indulge me.” How can I say no to that? Of course I want him to be happy – I love him.

Go deep and live life from your truth within, and watch your most authentic self, full of love, peace, and beauty manifest out into the world.

I now shall embrace the dark as a part of me. Without the dark, I cannot see how light gains importance.

She loves a silence with Davy Walker. Some people give good silence, and he is one of them.

He was relieved to be alone. He appeared to find happiness in solitude.

Time will end. Disease will fester. Death will die.

I want to be needed; wanted; and most of all, cherished and loved,” she whispered.

All I can do is pray my words are comforting to her. I don’t know what else to give her but my undying love. That and my words are all I have to offer. I hope they’re enough.

I love taking care of a woman, you know that. I’m just not attracted to the clingy ones who need me to do everything for them. I want her to need me, but not need me for everything, know what I mean? I want a smart, independent woman who just happens to enjoy submitting to me sexually. Is that too much to ask?” There was a snort, and then his brother’s sarcasm came spilling out. “It can be your eHarmony ad, bro. Wanted: smart, independent woman to play at D/s. Must like handcuffs, spankings, and anal sex.

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A blind date is when well-meaning friends select two people from opposite ends of the earth, with as little in common as humanly possible, and lie to each of them about just how fabulous, interesting, normal, well adjusted, intelligent, and attractive the other half of the blind date is. Reality hits as they come through the door. You then pursue the same formula as on a regular date, hopefully in less time, and you pray that they wrote down your phone number wrong. After that you go home and cry, eventually laugh, and never speak to the friends who set you up again. And after you forget just how bad it was, you let the same friends, or others, do it to you again. With love and empathy. d.s.

They chain-danced over the fields, through the woods to a trail that ended in the astonishing beauty of feldspar, and there Paul D’s hands disobeyed the furious rippling of his blood and paid attention. With a sledge hammer in his hands and Hi Man’s lead, the men got through. They sang it out and beat it up, garbling the words so they could not be understood; tricking the words so their syllables yielded up other meanings. They sang the women they knew; the children they had been; the animals they had tamed themselves or seen others tame. They sang of bosses and masters and misses; of mules and dogs and the shamelessness of life. They sang lovingly of graveyards and sisters long gone. Of pork in the woods; meal in the pan; fish on the line; cane, rain and rocking chairs.

Miles just smiled and felt her love flow around his own. Yet inside his love was a rock, and it had the words “payback is sweet” written in large letters on it. He laughed and she looked up at him and saw the hard glint in his eyes. “Uh oh!” was all she said. He laughed again deep in his chest. She kissed him happily. She sucked at his throat. She, as much as he, would enjoy the struggle that would follow. Part of the joy of their love was this constant battle to top the other. Kate was excellent at beginning these battles and sometimes even won them. Yet her weakness was that she submitted naturally. She knew it and he knew it. From her point of view the skill of the game was in keeping his Dom side distracted enough so she could submit to him before he took her. Miles smiled as he realised that whoever won was largely irrelevant to their love. Yet he liked to win; and so did she. (Journey Into Submission, eXtasy)

he snuffed the remaining powder into his other nostril and threw the scrap of thin plastic to the floor. There was no sensation, nothing at all, the world was the same and Billy knew that he had been cheated. Two D’s shot, gone for nothing. He leaned out of the glassless, frameless window and tears mixed with the perspiration on his face. He cried and thought about that for a while and thought how glad he was it was dark and no one could see him crying, not him, eighteen years old. Under his fingers the rough metal of the window opening had the feel of miniature mountain peaks and valleys. Jagged, smooth, soft, hard. He leaned close and stroked with his fingertips and the pleasure of the touch sent shivers of love running the length of his spine. Why had he never noticed this before? Bending, he put out his tongue and the sweet-sour-iron-dirt taste was so wonderful, and when he let the sharp front edges of his teeth touch the metal it felt as though he had bitten off a piece of steel half as big as the bridge.

When he broke that long kiss, he smiled at her before kissing her hard. “So, my love, I hope that your punishment will stop you from trying another payback for a while at least?” Laura laughed and sighed, dramatically. “Of course, it will. I never want to be punished like that again. Well, not until tonight anyway. You will be back tonight, won't you? I'm often very bad at night so you may have to do this all over again to me until I learn how to be good. Hmm, and during the day, I'm not always very good either so you'd better watch out for that too.” “You don't make punishing you an easy task, do you? It almost seems like you enjoy being punished.” “No, it's not that, baby. Though, your punishment was very well given. It's just that I have a very aggressive, bad gene and it makes me backslide, umm, and often frontslide too. I have learnt with you that I'm always wanting to backslide and frontslide but, as it's obviously a genetic defect, I can't really be blamed for that, now can I” (Tales from Terrigal, Book 2, WIP)

Mr. Townsend quirks a brow at the other man, and when our boss walks away he sticks his tongue out to his back. I push my hair over my shoulder and look this man over a bit closer. His dark hair reaches his shoulders and falls in soft waves around his face. He has a strong jaw lined with stubble and high cheekbones under his impossibly dark eyes. His perfect teeth are framed beautifully with full lips and a dark goatee, which only highlight the voluptuous color of his mouth. He’s wearing a dark blue button up shirt that fits loosely around his arms and chest, but the fitted dark jeans show off the chiseled lines of his thighs. He pushes his chair back slightly and stands, extending his large hand toward me. “I’m Reid. Reid Townsend.” He’s tall, about 6’0”, with a smile right out of a toothpaste commercial, and when I take his hand (surely with a stupid look on my face) it’s rough from heavy use. “Nice to meet you. I’m Danielle Delaney,” I reply. “You can call me Dani… Or anything you’d like except DD, um, in high school some people called me Double D’s because of that name and because I have big boobs—” I cut off abruptly with a slightly choked sound, feeling the blood rush over my chest, face and ears. I’ve never blurted something like that before in my life, and I especially have never blurted anything because I’m standing in front of a beautiful guy—I’m the player, not the played.

Finally, finally, I was thrown into this tiny, dark cell. It all went quiet. But I instantly noticed the warmth. And I could just make out the shape of the room under the crack in my blindfold. I waited. I was half-naked with my camouflage jacket pulled back halfway down my back, and I was huddled over shivering. I must have looked a mess. I could taste the snot smeared down my face. A hand pulled my blindfold off and a light went on. “Recognize this, Bear?” a voice said softly. I squinted. The DS was pointing at a white cross on his arm. I didn’t react. I needed to double-check in my mind. “This means the end of the exercise--Endex. Remember?” I did, but still I didn’t react yet. I needed to check once more in my mind. Then, finally, I nodded weakly at him. And he smiled back. It was the end. “Well done, buddy. Now take a seat, take five, and get this brew down you. The quack will be in to see you in a few minutes.” The DS put a blanket around my shoulders. A smile spread across my face and I felt a tear of relief trickle down my cheek. For an hour a psychiatrist then debriefed me. He told me that I had done well and had resisted effectively. I felt just so relieved. I loved that psychiatrist. The real lesson of this was twofold: Control your mind; and Don’t get caught. As the DS said, “Remember, at the end of the day, these guys are on your side. They are British, they aren’t a real enemy. If they were, then that’d be when things would get messy. So remember: do not get captured!” It is a lesson I have never forgotten, and is probably why I have, over the years, become very, very good at getting out of all sorts of scrapes.

Would she have been okay in a stable environment, with two loving parents instead of two people who couldn’t stand the sight of each other?

May your mind be always filled with happy thoughts; May your belly be always filled with your favorite foods; May your arms always be filled with loving hugs; And may your heart always be filled with love!

But I know that you’re behind Distinctive Dynamic Designs. You love them fuckin’ “Ds.” You helped McKellar—

I was akin to Francis Bacon’s ‘Merchant of Light’ collecting experiences in the few days I spent with wonderful people and my dearest. Imbibing everything the mystically beautiful place revealed. I did it every year instead of every twelve years, as professed by Bacon. I brought with me the optimism, energy, compassion, humility, love and aroma of the wood and leaves. Best experiences of my life.

The Wayfarer. Let me be an innocent wayfarer traversing the roads of life without preconceived notions. Without an ounce of anger toward the men I meet along the way Without judging them for who they are Embracing everyone as equals Lending a helping hand to needy Cherishing whatever little love bestowed upon me. Carrying with me only the fragrance of the best moments Let me walk unhindered by emotions. My joy shall come from the walk itself rather than from the expectations in my mind. My joy shall soar from every step taken. Let me be the humble wanderer in nature’s abode. Loving all, living every moment I shall not differentiate pleasure and pain, for they are brothers entwined. I shall not worry while I’m teary-eyed. I shall not hurry while I’m fury-eyed. Patience and silence—the two essentials of eternal wisdom I shall master them or die trying while I walk the promenade of life!

The Swift pulled over right next to her Thar. The shining black of the Thar next to the fading red of the Swift. The cars knew each other very well. They seemed to greet each other and reminisce their many nights together, standing side by side. They also appeared to regret the long hiatus in the past year when they hadn’t seen each other, not even once. If only their thoughts could be conveyed to their masters. But they seemed to cherish the present moment. Nothing could change that. They were close to one another again. They had found one another again. Maybe this moment could reshape the future. The machines hoped so and at the core of their engines that created such hopeful thoughts was the intense love of their once seemingly inseparable masters.

Without Sally he would have given up on himself. He needed that dependence, he needed that love, that feeling of being needed. Before Sally he had never known what it was to love.

Sally had made him feel like he was worth loving. She had shown him that the world wasn’t entirely hateful.

True love, power exchange, contentment and most importantly, trust – have finally graced me with their presence and my life with Isa is complete.

Continental Breakfast (Continental Affair #1) Continental Beginnings (Continental Affair #2) Continental Life (Continental Affair #3) (Coming 2014)   This Love’s Not for Sale   Hard Candy for Christmas   Ulterior Designs (Coming 2014)  

Is that what you really want? Someone you’ve learned to love and chosen by default? Or someone you know without a doubt that you love?

You said it to me once. It was the last day we had together. And that was 39 days ago. I can still hear your whisper loud as a horn in my ears, when you told me that you love me. This memory is so clear in my head, as if it were yesterday. Even though I am not sure how to describe your voice, how it sounds, these three words you said. I know. And I have to trust them.

I love you; heart and soul, and we’re going to grow old together. We’ll make things right and find our way, no matter how long it takes or where life takes us.

I love her so much that I cannot breathe

I have learned to love evoking terror in people. Like this I have a special kind of power over them and they leave me alone

He doesn’t desire me. This is not longing, or love. This is hate-sex

Violence. My body has learned to love violence, and my mind imagines terrible things

I don’t care if it’s hate now, or if it’s love. I mean something to her, and that’s the most precious thing to me

Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.

She remembers those moments of coming up against death and having to shock yourself with the permanence of it. The hollow sensation of actively loving a person who cannot love you back because they are dead. And wondering who you are, if the you who was loved by them isn’t being loved by them anymore.

Collars are one of the most sacred symbols in the kink community, and also one of the most abused. For a submissive, the collar is the symbol of everything she yearns for. It’s not just physical proof that she belongs to someone to whom she has surrendered, but also proof of her dominant’s love and protection. The collar shows the world (or as much of it as is practical) that someone has claimed her as his. Most people view the collar as the D/s equivalent of a wedding band. It is a symbol, not only of ownership and submission, but the commitment of both partners. One gives, one takes and together they complete the circle of the power exchange.

human, all perfect, all divine. I am the founder of Positive Exposure, an organization that celebrates the beauty of human diversity through the visual arts and narrative. Our shared synergies, our interconnectivities, facilitate incredible moments when our paths intersect. Each experience encourages, empowers me to focus sharper, broaden my vision as an artist and to see with every cell of my being.  I have had amazing opportunities to collaborate with several individuals whose lives have changed because of Dr. D.’s embrace. Their families have healed, their communities empowered, as one family states, “without medicine” but with love, humility

I have been told I have a natural aptitude for violence, yes. They say if you get a job doing something you love then it’s like not working at all.’ He grinned at her.

Everyone has baggage. You just have to find someone who loves you enough to help you unpack.

All inputs need to be sorted regularly by filtering them through the four D’s (Do, Delegate, Defer, Dump) and putting them in the appropriate place. As you practice asking yourself which category something should go in it’ll become easier. Within a week of practice you’ll be able to take something from Capture and add it straight to your “Next Action” list without much thought.

Sawyer became engrossed in watching Dylan and Isabel. They were such a beautiful sight; Dylan holding onto Isabel as if nothing else in the world mattered to him, and Isabel resting oblivious to the world in his wearied arms. Their love was so pure and intense; Sawyer couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He wanted what they had; he wanted to command and own his own submissive like Dylan; he longed for the kind of devotion that they shared.

The years of waiting for each other offered an anticipation factor still in an immensely high status. At these moments, there was no one else in the world but the two of them and their hearts were bonding for eternity. D.S. Mixell

filling the form in.  She held up the photo and matched it with the wall, a tired, thinlooking girl looking out at her. It was set to the right of Oliver’s. They could have had them taken at the same time. She’d ask Mary.  Grace had said she had only been with Oliver — or at least that’s what the answers suggested. She’d have to ask her to make sure. It wasn’t unknown for homeless people to get into disagreements over love. When you’ve got nothing much to lose, the law doesn’t come into play when you’re asking yourself if you’re prepared to kill for someone.  Grace also admitted to being a regular heroin user and agreed to have an examination. She also said she didn’t have any diseases as far as she knew. She was the same age, too. Eighteen. Had they known each other before they’d become homeless? She’d have to find Grace to know the truth.  She went back to Oliver’s file and checked the date next to his signature. It said the seventh of September. Just under two months ago.  Jamie leafed to the next and only other page in the file. It was another shabbily photocopied sheet. Mary must have been doing them on her printer-scanner at home, creating them on her computer. She really did care. The sheet displayed a pixelated outline of the human body — no doubt an image pulled off the web and then stretched out to fill a page. The resolution was too low to keep any sort of detail, but the shape still came through okay. It was a human with their arms out, feet apart. At the top of the page, in Comic Sans, ‘Examination Sheet’ was written as the title.  In appropriately illegible handwriting for a doctor, notes had been jotted around the body. Parts had been circled with lines being drawn to the corresponding note. She read words like ‘graze’ and ‘lesion’. ‘Rash’ cropped up a few times. But there didn’t look to be anything sinister going on. The crooks of the elbows, as well as the ankles, were all circled several times but nothing was written at the sides. Those areas didn’t need explaining, though underneath, as if encapsulating the entire exam were the words ‘No signs of infection’. So he’d been relatively careful, then. Clean needles, at least. Under that, there was a little paragraph recommending a general blood panel, but overall, Oliver seemed to be in decent health. Nothing had been prescribed, it seemed.  She checked Grace’s and found it to be much the same, complete with triple circles around the elbows and ankles. Though her genital area had also been circled and the word ‘Rash’ had been written. At the bottom, a prescription had been written for azithromycin.  Jamie clicked her teeth together, rummaging in her brain for the name. Was it a gonorrhoea medication or chlamydia? She knew it was for an STD, she just couldn’t remember which. But that meant that where she’d put down ‘1’ for number of

sexual partners, she was either lying, or she’d had it for over a year. But Oliver’s chart didn’t show any symptoms and he hadn’t been prescribed.  Jamie mulled it over in her head then acted on a hunch, pulling open the top right-hand drawer. Inside was a wholesale box of condoms. She stared at it for a second. At least they were using protection. She wondered how many Mary gave out a week. Maybe there had been a third person in their relationship. A scorned ex-boyfriend who didn’t like Oliver? He obviously didn’t know about the rash — or hadn’t noticed. Grace was keeping it from him. Had he found out, confronted Grace’s other boyfriend? Or maybe the other way around. Surprised by the guy? Taken? Tied up and threatened? She had a feeling that the person hadn’t meant to kill him. If you’re going to kill someone, you don’t take their shoes and then dump them in a river. He’d either fallen in accidentally, or he’d jumped. Either way, if there wasn’t an ex — or not ex boyfriend — he was going to be someone Jamie wanted to speak to.  She held Grace’s picture up, looking past the matted hair and sunken eyes. She was young, pretty. She’d have a lot of attention out there on the streets.  Jamie closed the drawer and looked at the file again, searching for a name. She wanted to speak to the doctor. The signature just looked like a wavy line. She’d ask Mary. The chair squeaked as she pushed back from the desk and stood up, keeping the files in hand. Her watch told her it was nearly nine-thirty. Her stomach told her it was time for breakfast. Back in the main room, some of the people had cleared out, venturing back into the city. Looking for some way to get by.  Roper was still talking to Mary, who appeared to be in the middle of a speech about how these people needed more help than anyone was prepared to give, and that Oliver wouldn’t been the last. Jamie stepped around her, piqued. ‘Why do you say that?’ ‘Oh,’ she said, seeing Jamie. ‘Because people don’t want to help them and they let them hurt themselves and each other without paying them any mind.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Each other? Did someone have a problem with Oliver?’ ‘What?’ Mary looked sheepish all of a sudden, as if she’d dropped someone in something. ‘No, no — nothing like that. Not as far as I know, anyway,’ she added quickly. ‘Look, I just want you to find who did this — but for you to know that things are different with them. They don’t act the same — don’t believe in the same things, you know?’ She kept her voice low now. Jamie nodded. She’d worked the streets long enough to know what Mary meant. She’d seen more than she could have ever imagined. Seen people do crazy things. Things that people with something to lose would never think to do.  ‘Mrs Cartwright,’ she said after a second. ‘Grace Melver. She was friends with Oliver?’ ‘Grace?’ Mary’s eyes lit up a little and then tilted down in sadness. ‘What a sweet girl. She’ll be devastated. She’s been back every day to check whether Oliver has turned up. She’s been going out of her mind. Poor girl.’ ‘What was the nature of their relationship?’ Roper held his phone a little higher so the microphone could pick them up more easily. Mary thought for a second, aware of the recording. She chose her words carefully. ‘They were together, I suppose. As much as two people in their situation could be. They looked out for each other. Loved each other.’ ‘Did Grace have any other boyfriends?’ ‘No, no. She was sweet. She loved Oliver.’ ‘She was a heroin user, right?’ Mary looked like her face was about to droop and slip right off her head. ‘Horrible stuff. Though they

Jamie hated being asked that question, because there wasn’t a good answer that didn’t make it sound like they were. Roper looked at her, not wanting to tackle it either. ‘We, uh,’ Jamie started, looking around the room. ‘We don’t have a list of suspects, yet. We’re just gathering information.’ Mary looked relived, nodding. ‘Okay, good. Well, if there’s anything I can do.’ Roper smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels. ‘Just let us know when Grace arrives and we’ll do the rest. You’ve been a great help already.’ He turned away and headed towards the far side of the room. Jamie followed, knowing it meant he wanted to talk. They stood side on so they had a view of both Mary and the door, and then Roper said, ‘I’ll make the call, get the uniforms out here. You think it’s worth looking around this place again?’ Jamie shook her head. ‘We’d be swinging in the dark. Let’s speak to Grace first, then go from there. If she gives us any names — the third person in the love triangle — then we can grab another file. But for now…’ She inhaled, knowing they had twenty something minutes to kill and she had two phone calls to make.  They couldn’t be put off any longer.  ‘Let’s head outside,’ Roper said. ‘It smells like piss in here.’ She thought that was rich considering that there was about a fifty-fifty chance that smell was coming from Roper himself. But she didn’t say anything. Roper had a cigarette lit before his feet hit the pavement and he circled into the street to get a look at the thirty-strong line that had now formed. The people were beginning to jostle.  They couldn’t have all been local — which meant that they were making the trek over for a plastic bowl of soup. Jamie looked away, focused her mind on the calls, and dug her phone out of her pocket.

You will never be alone in this life because the memories we will form will be with you long after I am gone. Just look at that beautiful horizon. Every day when you think of me, just look at it. I will bring you back to this day, to this exact moment when we found each other and became one. - IBECK to GoD

I was at an apsis, far from her. I didn’t even know she existed. Fate brought her into my life, and her gravity pulled me from aphelion closer and closer until I could never go away from her orbit. - GoD on IBECK

The more I ventured into the world of science, the more I brushed aside that notion of being part of a drama, or a pattern laid out by fate or faith.

Bad feelings poison the soul, make it stale muddy water, and lead to actions that have long-term repercussions on the body and mind.

I wanted everyone to find their sanctuary, their one true freedom in life, their box with miracles, their cloud of happiness. I wanted every one of them to bathe in the rain of love.

Three things that are difficult to practice, let alone be a master of them: to be one with the present, the unshakable calmness, and contentedness.

Life is uncertain, and there lies its beauty.

Remember, no defeat is complete without conquering your soul.

Never fear; never be surprised by uncertainties. Embrace them. Life is uncertain. Once you accept it, you will see the links in the randomness of events, and every problem shall present a new opportunity to showcase your inborn courage.

Let the ice caps that cover my heart melt while I sit bathed by the sun. Thus flows a river unhindered, telling the truth and merging with the ocean of emptiness, ready to go through the life cycle again.

Everyone who lived past childhood innocence would have done something evil.

Good deeds are not compensation for the bad ones done elsewhere.

Failures are inevitable for all who walk a path To climb a mountain, in sweat you should bath Dissect thy failures, every single brick on the wall Break one and then another, until all ends as dust after all

Some people stop feeling hurt after a tipping point. As if nothing more can ever hurt them.

No greater force can kill what is already dead.

Silence enables us to listen to ourselves. To think beyond limitations. It calms the nerves. Gives a sense of freedom.

We live in a silent world where we continuously strive to overcome it with various noises.

When you believe you cannot change what you are doing now, you will not even explore the new path.

As a parent, you want your child to be ready for the real world and not the world we portray by keeping them under the protective shield. By doing so, by venturing alone into the wild ruthless and unforgiving world, they will become a boiling pot of experiences, and those experiences will make them tough and gritty. They will become the man you expect them to become

When you believe you cannot change what you are doing now, you will not even explore the new path. And nothing can pull such persons out of the dark pit they call their home. They are so used to the darkness, the light because their enemy

Every human has five enemies programmed inside us, waiting to hurt us anytime we lose our guard. They grow with us from the time we take our first steps in this life, understanding the people around us. First is anger, second is ego, third is irrepressible hatred, fourth is infinite pride, and fifth is insatiable greed

Silence is amazing. Don’t you feel? It broods creativity. Allows you to introspect. Enables us to listen to ourselves. To think beyond limitations. It calms the nerves. Gives a sense of freedom

Failures are inevitable for all who walk a path To climb a mountain, in sweat you should bath Dissect thy failures, every single brick on the wall Break one and then another, until all ends as dust after all Wall thus broken shall let you pass on Victory is yours; you shall march on and on

Everyone suffers from something. It’s just a matter of how great the suffering is and how tolerant and enduring is the person’s soul for any amount of suffering. For some, even a trivial blow or minuscule loss might mean the sky crumbling on their heads. On the other hand, you will see some uniquely hardy humans, who face bludgeoning for breakfast, get sautéed in searing heat all day and spend their nights fighting to get some sleep on a prickly cold ice bed, yet they carry a demeanour of - just an ordinary day in my life

Individuality is the driving force of any society. Every individual acts according to his own will and does things uniquely, good or bad. Everyone contributes in his or her own different way to society