Dunno How To Feel Quotes

Jus hold me a little longer, Jack. Tell me again that ya wanna be with me, fer real, cross yer heart 'n' let me know you ain't foolin', cause I dunno how or when it happen but somehow I come ta need ya like air, like blood. Touch me again like ya do with them gentle hands make me feel like somethin' precious. Say it again that ya love me, cause hearin' that was like openin' up some big bottomless well that ran dry years back and it cain't never be full enough now, I cain't never hear it enough, but once more, one more time and maybe I'll believe it a little more, and then a little more the next time, till someday I believe it fer true enough ta be able to say it back ta you like y'oughta hear it said cause God knows I love you more'n my own life, more'n anythin' in this world, but it cain't get outta me yet cause I still ain't the man I need ta be, the man who's gonna stand before you and declare.

that. But the more we meet up, the harder it gets. Every time I see him, I dunno . . . it just gets harder. I mean, it’s good when we’re together. But after . . . I don’t know how to explain it. ‘Dead inside’ is a little too dramatic. I just feel hard and numb, like some part of me is losing all feeling. I can’t stand being alone. I know this is my own doing, but it makes me really sad. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but I know it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He’s a good-looking son of a bitch, it’s a shame about his personality. “Yeah, and how’s it feel to be a toy?” he snaps. I arch my eyebrow at that, leaning back as I sip my beer. “I dunno, how does it feel? You act like a walking, talking dick, so you must be a dildo.

You know she made me a list, don’t you?” “What do you mean?” “A list. Chelsea made me a list of questions to ask Mike.” Violet laughed, pulling herself up. It was too ridiculous to believe. But it was Chelsea, so of course it was true. “What did you do with it? You didn’t give it to him, did you?” Violet asked, her eyes wide with shock. Jay sat up too and grinned, and Violet was sure that he had. And then he shook his head. “Nah. I told her if she really wanted the answers, she’d have to give it to him herself.” Violet relaxed back into the couch. “Did she?” Jay shrugged. “I dunno. You never know with Chelsea.” He leaned forward, watching Violet closely as he ran his thumb down the side of her cheek. “Anyway,” he said, switching the subject, “I get off work at six tomorrow; maybe we can hook up after that.” He moved closer, grinning. “And you can tell me how much you missed me.” He kissed her, at first quickly. Then the kiss deepened, and she heard him groan. This time, when he pulled back, there was indecision in his eyes. Violet wanted to say something sarcastic and sharp-witted to lighten the mood, but with Jay staring at her like that, any hope of finding a clever response was lost. She could feel herself disappearing into the depths of that uncertain look.

Who’s worse, soldier, you or him? Dunno, sir! It’s a trick question, soldier. Well, him, obviously. 1 mean I’m sitting here loung-ing; he’s practically dying out there. I expected more from you, son. How? You’re a smart kid. You should be able to see when somebody’s faking. And soldier— Yes. —Good job out there. I’m glad you’re still on board. I don’t feel any better. Life’s not about feeling better; it’s about getting the job done.

Yeah, and how’s it feel to be a toy?” he snaps. I arch my eyebrow at that, leaning back as I sip my beer. “I dunno, how does it feel? You act like a walking, talking dick, so you must be a dildo.

You’re just a sore loser, especially to a woman.” I laugh, and his eyes narrow, nostrils flaring. He’s a good-looking son of a bitch, it’s a shame about his personality. “Yeah, and how’s it feel to be a toy?” he snaps. I arch my eyebrows at that, leaning back as I sip my beer. “I dunno, how does it feel? You act like a walking, talking dick, so you must be a dildo.

I'm going to talk to you about whether you want to get married or not. To me." She laughs a lot... "Oh, I'm sorry. But two days ago you were in love with that woman who interviewed you for the local paper, weren't you? ... I'm just curious about how one goes from making tapes for one person to marriage proposals to another in two days..." "Fair enough... I'm just sick of thinking about it [love and marriage] all the time... I want to think about something else." "... That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard. I do. I will [marry you]" "Shut up. I'm only trying to explain... I've always been afraid of marriage because of, you know, ball and chain, I want my freedom, all that. But when I was thinking about that stupid girl I suddenly saw it was the opposite that if you got married to someone you know you love, and you sort yourself out, it frees you up for other things... I do know how I feel about you. I know I want to stay with you and I keep pretending otherwise, to myself and you, and we just limp on and on. It's like we sign a new contract every few weeks or so, and I don't want that anymore. And I know that if we got married I'd take it seriously, and I wouldn't want to mess about." "And you can make a decision about it just like that, can you? ... I'm not sure that it works like that. " "But it does, you see. Just because it's a relationship, and it's based on soppy stuff, it doesn't mean you can't make intellectual decisions about it. Sometimes you just have to, otherwise you'll never get anywhere. That's where I've been going wrong. I've been letting the weather and my stomach muscles and a great chord change in a Pretenders single make up my mind for me, wnd I want to do it for myself." ... "Maybe you're right. But that doesn't help me... Were you really expecting me to say yes?" "Dunno. Didn't think about it, really. It was the asking that was the important thing." "Well, you've asked... Thank you.

Yeah, and how's it feel to be a toy"? “I dunno, how does it feel? You act like a walking, talking dick, so you must be a dildo....

No matter how highly placed they were, they were still officials, their views were well established and well known, famous. It could have rained frogs over Tan Son Nhut and they wouldn’t have been upset; Cam Ranh Bay could have dropped into the South China Sea and they would have found some way to make it sound good for you; the Bo Doi Division (Ho’s Own) could have marched by the American embassy and they would have characterized it as “desperate”—what did even the reporters closest to the Mission Council ever find to write about when they’d finished their interviews? (My own interview with General Westmoreland had been hopelessly awkward. He’d noticed that I was accredited to Esquire and asked me if I planned to be doing “humoristical” pieces. Beyond that, very little was really said. I came away feeling as though I’d just had a conversation with a man who touches a chair and says, “This is a chair,” points to a desk and says, “This is a desk.” I couldn’t think of anything to ask him, and the interview didn’t happen.) I honestly wanted to know what the form was for those interviews, but some of the reporters I’d ask would get very officious, saying something about “Command postures,” and look at me as though I was insane. It was probably the kind of look that I gave one of them when he asked me once what I found to talk about with the grunts all the time, expecting me to confide (I think) that I found them as boring as he did. And just-like-in-the-movies, there were a lot of correspondents who did their work, met their deadlines, filled the most preposterous assignments the best they could and withdrew, watching the war and all its hideous secrets, earning their cynicism the hard way and turning their self-contempt back out again in laughter. If New York wanted to know how the troops felt about the assassination of Robert Kennedy, they’d go out and get it. (“Would you have voted for him?” “Yeah, he was a real good man, a real good man. He was, uh, young.” “Who will you vote for now?” “Wallace, I guess.”) They’d even gather troop reflections on the choice of Paris as the site of the peace talks. (“Paris? I dunno, sure, why not? I mean, they ain’t gonna hold ’em in Hanoi, now are they?”), but they’d know how funny that was, how wasteful, how profane. They knew that, no matter how honestly they worked, their best work would somehow be lost in the wash of news, all the facts, all the Vietnam stories. Conventional journalism could no more reveal this war than conventional firepower could win it, all it could do was take the most profound event of the American decade and turn it into a communications pudding, taking its most obvious, undeniable history and making it into a secret history. And the very best correspondents knew even more than that.

Y'know... after that other dish a minute ago, this one tastes especially... I dunno... homey. It's a dish with a real human feel to it." "I see monkfish meat, skin, fins and- HM?! Kogiku squash... Tachikawa burdock... and Akasuji daikon!" "Y-yes, sir! All of those are veggies you can find in my hometown. I wanted to show in my dish how good the veggies in my hometown are, so I tried a lot of different combinations... but curry spices are really powerful, and they didn't go well with a lot of the veggies' natural sweetness or bitterness. I was stumped for a good long time, until I had the sudden thought that I could do a dobujiru for my dish. The monkfish liver in dobujiru could be a kind of bridge, allowing me to make the best of the curry spices while at the same time retaining all the natural tastiness of the veggies And besides, I, um... I've handled monkfish since I was little anyway." "Really?" "I wanted to make a curry that reflected all the best of my hometown... right down to the taste and smells!

had a real good feeling about him. I dunno how or why, because he was certainly not my type, but there was something—something—about Robinson O’Reilly that made my heart take notice.

So, I’m going to be stronger. In my own way. In the way that feels most natural to me. I like to win. If I can’t protect myself from being hurt, I’d rather hurt other people.” “How?” “Dunno, but it won’t be too hard. I’m already familiar with that kind of world.” Gon sniggered. I wanted to say something but he was already heading out the door. Then he wheeled around and said, “We might not see each other from now on. So instead of a goodbye kiss, take this.” He winked and slowly raised his middle finger. He wore a soft smile. That was the last time I saw him smile that way. Then he disappeared. And then, tragedy unfolded rapidly.