Firefighters Love Quotes

As she’d left, I’d glanced at her gun. This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.

Marry me he said voice full of emotion. Be my soul mate my friend and my lover as long as we both live. Make babies with me that have curly hair and big brown eyes. Grow old with me and we'll watch the sun set together in the evenings. And when I leave this world I'll be happy knowing I was the best man I could be for having loved you.

To generalize about war is like generalizing about peace. Almost everything is true. Almost nothing is true. At its core, perhaps, war is just another name for death, and yet any soldier will tell you, if he tells the truth, that proximity to death brings with it a corresponding proximity to life. After a firefight, there is always the immense pleasure of aliveness. The trees are alive. The grass, the soil—everything. All around you things are purely living, and you among them, and the aliveness makes you tremble. You feel an intense, out-of-the-skin awareness of your living self—your truest self, the human being you want to be and then become by the force of wanting it. In the midst of evil you want to be a good man. You want decency. You want justice and courtesy and human concord, things you never knew you wanted. There is a kind of largeness to it, a kind of godliness. Though it’s odd, you’re never more alive than when you’re almost dead. You recognize what’s valuable. Freshly, as if for the first time, you love what’s best in yourself and in the world, all that might be lost. At the hour of dusk you sit at your foxhole and look out on a wide river turning pinkish red, and at the mountains beyond, and although in the morning you must cross the river and go into the mountains and do terrible things and maybe die, even so, you find yourself studying the fine colors on the river, you feel wonder and awe at the setting of the sun, and you are filled with a hard, aching love for how the world could be and always should be, but now is not.

Even officers who don't approve of your lifestyle choices would still take you as backup over Kirkland, or most anyone else. They'd say how you're bad for shaking up with vampires and wereleopards, but in a firefight they'd take your vampire-loving, furry-fucking ass over most anyone else's.

I know what it’s like to be different. I’m a Native American in a white world.

Falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Falling is easy. Staying that way is hard. But I’ve been choosing hard all my life, so why the hell would the life I make with the woman who completes me be any different? I love you like a madman. You’re the air I breathe, my next heartbeat, and I’m never letting go.

What?” The corner of his mouth turned up, his white teeth gleaming in the light. “Just thinking how hot you are.” He scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes. “Thanks—but aren’t all firefighters hot? I mean, we do basically live in fire.

He could not breathe, much less speak. She was too much. She was sweet and understanding, and she was going to kill him.

But if you had to have something to live for, it might as well be love, right?

She loved four brothers, and she wouldn't say they suffocated her, though the hum of their hovering could be deafening at times. FBI, Special Forces, firefighter, cop. It was like her very own big-brother protection force.

I’ll see you later,” I murmured. “Yeah.” Our foreheads pressed together. Our lips lingered half an inch apart. Thin ropes of dark hair hung over his forehead as sweat glistened across his face in the streetlights. “Love you.” “Love you more,” he murmured.

I’ve wanted to do that since you saved me.” -Lockland

I’m just a simple guy. I love beer, sex, and hockey. I hate liars, Sting, and art that doesn’t have people in it. - Luke Almeida

When relationships have outlived their shelf life, people often realize that at some level, they are sticking it our because they once thought in the light of their divine love that the other person would change. Sorry for breaking the poetic hope here, but that doesn't happen. People are like rubber bands. They may be able to stretch from time to time and do some amazing things, but in general they are who they are. If manipulation and machinations on your side get them to behave the way you want, I will set my clock on the fact that they will return to their previous way of behaving, or they will keep faking it. To be in a relationship with someone who is not really there doesn't make sense. People who aren't cooperating feel like a project to us, like something for us to rescue or fix. Rescuing is the province of firefighters and fairy tales, but it's not real life. The stance of sticking it out in hopes of redemption is an old story and one that has wasted many lives.

[Harper'd] wondered briefly if those novels were making her set her standards too high. But then she'd realized that no, actually, what those stories had done was help her not confuse lust and crushes and simple attraction and I-kind-of-like-him with something deeper and more passionate. And they'd helped her decide to wait for the real thing. She knew what love looked like. It just hadn't come along for her. Yet.

Directly in front of the Muffin Man Bakery. He ground his teeth in frustration. Dammit! He’d been doing a fine job of avoiding Sugar and the Muffin Man since she’d practically taken off running last week. It was hard not to take it personally when a girl was so intent on getting away, she ran like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.

She leaned in, a tip she had read today on HuffPo’s Love & Sex section. Boobs out, smile wide, voice low. Being sexy was exhausting.

Knowing what she did to him made her feel powerful, just as knowing what he did to her made her feel weak.

You might be fearless,” he whispered. “You might be independent, but on the inside you’re just as in need of love as the rest of us.

People in love always make fools of themselves.

This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.

Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. “You’re 36 years old?” “You say that like I have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.

I’m not my best, and I had four glasses of wine. If I want to be a sad failure, I can. I got dumped by my fiancé because I’m not perfect and never will be. Love isn’t enough, and time doesn’t heal— " Caroline explaining why she watched Under the Tuscan Sun three times today.

You told me I shouldn’t fall in love with you. Remember?” “Yeah, that’s because I’m insanely stubborn. I’ve always thought I was so damn brave. I mean I put myself on the line every single day on the job.” He laughed, and it was not in amusement. “But not my heart. Never my heart. And that doesn’t make me brave at all. It makes me a coward.

Life everywhere is affected by these fires. Residents of Malibu have brought their animals to the beaches for safety, shelter and companionship... California is a paradise for all. A gift. We are sad to not be able to defend it against Mother Nature's wrath. We love California. We are not ill-prepared. We are up against something bigger than we have ever seen. It's too big for some to see at all. Firefighters have never seen anything like this in their lives. I have heard that said countless times in the past two days, and I have lost my home before to a California fire, now another. Hopefully we can come together to take Climate Change on. We have the tools and could do it if we tried. There is no downside... - more at neil young archives website

Snuggle up with a hot fireman! Meet Tanner West. Sharon looked up into the most gorgeous face she had ever seen. Eyes like dark chocolate, deep and warm, stared out at her from a face that looked like it could have been chiseled in stone. Skin the color of burnished copper, high cheekbones, a sharp nose, full lips, and a cleft chin. How the hell had she failed to notice him before? Her heart skipped a beat and she ran her gaze down the rest of his body. He was tall, well over six feet, she would guess, with broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist. His thighs, encased in worn denim, fit like a second skin against legs the size of tree trunks, and oh my, what lay between those thighs… Her attention snapped back to his face and she could feel the heat of a blush suffuse her skin.

She was everything he loved about a woman wrapped up in a cute little package. Golden blonde hair was secured to the top of her head in a ponytail, he bet it would reach her waist when it was loose. Her body was curvy in all the right places, her breasts more than filled out the T-shirt she was wearing and those hips, dang he could just imagine holding onto them while she rode him, instead of Big Red.

Dear Lisel, Longshot was so good. I've been three times and plan to go back again. Your gown is so lovely in the second act. Do you think it would fit me? You're soooooooooo much prettier, but still, I'd like to try it on. Lovingly, Julia Madison   Dear Lisel, That man heckling you in the third row should be shot. Pow!!!!!!!!!! Love, Julia   Dear Lisel, I love you. You are so wonderful. I wish I could be you. Jules

This guy sounds like an awesome idea. I’m sure whatever it is he’s not telling you, it’s all good stuff. “Yeah,” offered Jumpsuit. “He’s just real modest. Doesn’t want you to know he’s a volunteer firefighter.” “And that he reads to orphans on the weekends,” said the bartender. “Doesn’t want you to know he’s actually a millionaire.” Jumpsuit again. “He’s keeping it a secret ‘til he knows you love him for who he is.

I love a man in uniform. And he's got a big hose. I'm getting hot just looking at it." "I can hear you," Sam called out. "This is an office. Please keep the discussion to a PG level." "How about you keep your dirty R-rated thoughts to yourself," Daisy retorted. "We're looking at a picture of a firefighter holding a hose on the street to cool people off on a hot summer day. In my innocence, I can't even imagine what you were thinking." "I thought you were using a metaphor," Sam said. "But clearly I shouldn't assume..." Layla glanced down at the picture. The firefighter was bare chested save for the suspenders holding up his fireman pants, which were unzipped in a way that suggested he wasn't on his way to a fire. "That's... some hose." "I can still hear you." "He's jealous," Daisy whispered. "He wishes he could have a big hose that makes women wet.

Here's a fact for you to ponder. This town can go weeks without a fucking fire. Weeks without even a malfunctioning smoke detector! And then suddenly? Thanksgiving rolls around, and my tiny, black heart starts to beat double-time with pure fear. Do you know why that is Joe? ...Because it means Christmas is coming. Christmas, as in the time of year when people purposefully bring highly flammable decaying shrubbery inside their homes, festoon it with electrical wires, place brightly wrapped kindling underneath it, and say "It's so fucking magical.

rock Moore Brock has enough on his hands as alpha bear shifter and Lieutenant of his firefighter rescue team, handling a serious case of dangerous fires around the Reno-Sparks , Nevada area. Family has always come first, and when his mother phones him with a cryptic message, he knows something's up. It's another reason he's hesitant to take the next step with Sky, the shapely, captivating and feisty bombshell he wishes he could one day call his one true mate ... if only there weren't so many barriers and secrets standing in their way. Somehow, all those hurdles start to seem small when

For a long minute he gazed at her, his eyes searching the features of that face he'd grown to love so deeply over the years, his memory bringing up images of the past as he did so. The young determination in her face as, in the middle of a blazing firefight, she'd grabbed Luke's blaster rifle away from him and shot them an escape route into the Death Star's detention-level garbage chute. The sound of her voice in the middle of deadly danger at Jabba's, helping him through the blindness and tremor and disorientation of hibernation sickness. The wiser, more mature determination visible through the pain in her eyes as, lying wounded outside the Endor bunker, she had nevertheless summoned the skill and control to coolly shoot two stormtroopers off Han's back. And he remembered, too, the wrenching realization he'd had at that same time: that no matter how much he tried, he would never be able to totally protect her from the dangers and risks of the universe. Because no matter how much he might love her--no matter how much he might give of himself to her--she could never be content with that alone. Her vision extended beyond him, just as it extended beyond herself, to all the beings of the galaxy. And to take that away from her, whether by force or even by persuasion, would be to diminish her soul. And to take away part of what he'd fallen in love with in the first place.

Because I love you, Mia Sharpe. You are my route to happiness. All of my routes to happiness lead to you, and I haven’t ever found anyone else that has even come close. I love that you are willing to sit in an empty apartment until you find just the right piece of antique furniture that speaks to you even if it takes months. I love the way you call me Beckett most of the time, and Ellie only when it really matters. I love the way you tell people what their gift is when you hand them a wrapped present. I love that you became a firefighter so that you can save people from suffering what you’ve suffered. And I love you so much, that I’ll love you through all of the times where you find it hard to love yourself. Every day. Because there isn’t a piece of you that’s ruined inside, no matter what you might think on your worst days.

What I’m saying is that you’ll find a man who loves you like that—a man who loves and respects you because of your courage, not despite your injury and the physical challenges you face.” She liked what he’d said, sweet words she wished she could believe, but she had to be honest. “I’m not as brave as you think I am. I haven’t been able to pick up a firearm since the day I was shot.” “Anyone who tells you you’re not brave because you won’t pick up a gun hasn’t experienced a fire-fight first hand.” There was understanding in his eyes. She’d needed to hear that so very badly, but his compassion didn’t change the rest of it. “The kind of men I’m attracted to—athletic, outdoorsy guys—want women who can keep up with them. Besides, I’m forty-five.” “You don’t look a day over thirty-eight.” He gave her a devastatingly sexy smile. “And, hey, if an old codger like me can’t play the age card, then neither can you.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s different for men. You know that.” “You’re a beautiful woman.” The way he said it made her breath catch. Warmth rushed into her cheeks. “Is that you talking—or the Côte de Brouilly?” “It takes more than a few glasses of wine to make me say things I don’t mean—scotch if you want poetry.” He moved closer, took their wine glasses, and set them down on the coffee table. “Janet…” His words trailed into silence. Then he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm as they brushed lightly over hers, their caress an invitation.

Helene was a person who had never been able to ask for help, and she couldn't ask for help now. She turned north and started walking toward her home, many miles away in San Rafael. It took her almost eight hours to reach there. After a short time her feet began to hurt, so she took off the heels and throw them away. As she walked on, her nylons tore and her feet began to bleed. She passed buildings that had collapsed, stumbled over rubble, waded through streets filled with filthy water from the fire-fighting efforts. Dirty, sweaty, and disheveled, she walked down the Marina to the Golden Gate Bridge and crossed it into the next county. She reached her home sometime after midnight and knocked on her own front door. It was opened by her fiance, who had never before seen her with her hair uncombed. Without a word, he took her into his arms, kicked the door closed, covered her dirty, tearstained face with kisses, and made love to her right there on the floor. Helene is a very intelligent person but she could not understand why she had never met this ardent lover before. When she asked him, he said simply, 'I was always afraid of smearing your lipstick.' She tells me that now when she begins to relapse into her former perfectionism, she remembers the look of love in her fiance's eyes when he opened the door. She had been looked at by men all of her life but she had never seen that expression in a man's eyes before. At the heart of any real intimacy is a certain vulnerability. It is hard to trust someone with your vulnerability unless you can see in them a matching vulnerability and know that you will not be judged. In some basic way it is our imperfections and even our pain that draws others close to us.

Steeped in a literature claiming that men were created in the image of a warrior God, it’s no wonder evangelicals were receptive to sentiments like those expressed by Jerry Falwell in his 2004 sermon, “God is Pro-War.” Having long idealized cowboys and soldiers as models of exemplary Christian manhood, evangelicals were primed to embrace Bush’s “‘ cowboy’ approach” and his “Lone Ranger mentality.” God created men to be aggressive—violent when necessary—so that they might fulfill their sacred role of protector. 27 At the 2004 Republican National Convention, Christian recording artist Michael W. Smith stood on the stage of New York’s Madison Square Garden, declaring his love for his president and his country. He then recounted how, only six weeks after the September 11 attacks, he had found himself in the Oval Office with his good friend, President Bush. They spoke of the firefighters and other first responders who had given their lives trying to save others. “Hey W,” said the presidential “W” to the singer. “I think you need to write a song about this.” Smith did as he was asked. And there, standing before the convention audience as patriotic images flashed on the screen behind him, he performed “There She Stands,” a song about the symbol of the nation, the American flag, standing proudly amid the rubble. It was a small rhetorical step to change the feminine “beauty” all men were created to fight for into the nation herself. 28

Anytime we could, we played basketball. Even the smallest town had a high school gym, and if there wasn’t time for a proper game, Reggie and I would still roll up our sleeves and get in a round of H-O-R-S-E while waiting for me to go onstage. Like any true athlete, he remained fiercely competitive. I sometimes woke up the day after a game of one-on-one barely able to walk, though I was too proud to let my discomfort show. Once we played a group of New Hampshire firefighters from whom I was trying to secure an endorsement. They were standard weekend warriors, a bit younger than me but in worse shape. After the first three times Reggie stole the ball down the floor and went in for thunderous dunks, I called a time-out. “What are you doing?” I asked. “What?” “You understand that I’m trying to get their support, right?” Reggie looked at me in disbelief. “You want us to lose to these stiffs?” I thought for a second. “Nah,” I said. “I wouldn’t go that far. Just keep it close enough that they’re not too pissed.” Spending time with Reggie, Marvin, and Gibbs, I found respite from the pressures of the campaign, a small sphere where I wasn’t a candidate or a symbol or a generational voice or even a boss, but rather just one of the guys. Which, as I slogged through those early months, felt more valuable than any pep talk. Gibbs did try to go the pep-talk route with me at one point as we were boarding another airplane at the end of another interminable day, after a particularly flat appearance. He told me that I needed to smile more, to remember that this was a great adventure and that voters loved a happy warrior. “Are you having any fun?” he asked. “No,” I said. “Anything we can do to make this more fun?” “No.” Sitting in the seat in front of us, Reggie overheard the conversation and turned back to look at me with a wide grin. “If it’s any consolation,” he said, “I’m having the time of my life.” It was—although I didn’t tell him that at the time. —

Another fantastic snack (can you tell I love snacking?) is roasted chickpeas. Google it. My favorite, not surprisingly, is the buffalo ranch flavor (from the Kid Tested Firefighter Approved blog40), using a silicone baking mat.

I watched my city crumble on the BBC while my parents watched the local news. They were with the widows of firefighters and men holding pictures of missing fiancees. I was with the evenhanded political analysts and smug pundits. I was watching history on somebody else's channel, and in that moment I became, for them, slightly less American.

John, Heard about you while looking up Marketing Directors for major hospitals and love your backstory - incredible that you work as a volunteer firefighter as well. I specialize in iOS development for the healthcare industry. Recently, we built an app for Johns Hopkins that has increased their patient happiness rating by 75% through an automated dashboard. Interested in improving your patient happiness at Baylor? Let me know and I’ll send over some times to chat. Thanks, Alex

I don’t know what to do about you,” he confessed, looking down at her as if she was the most inexplicable puzzle. “One moment I want to set you on a pedestal under a glass case to protect you forever, and the next second I want to absolutely, positively ravish you. All the while knowing I can’t have you.

And when I am kissing you, I can’t think at all.

Life is messy. It’s scary and it’s hard and it’s painful. And every bit of it is worth the risk because love is so much more than any one of those difficult emotions. It’s more than all of them put together. That kind of love makes every day a little brighter. It makes colors more brilliant and laughter more contagious. It’s wonderful. It’s all-encompassing. And it’s a gift.” She stepped closer, placing her right hand over his heart. “Rhys, that’s the kind of love I want. That’s the kind of love we can have. Together.

So let her love you. Love her back. And cherish every single moment you have together.

Beeping smoke detectors means low batteries, not 'take them out and burn your kitchen down.' Fire Captain James Haskell failing badly at flirting over a smoky kitchen

We would love it if you would join us for lunch to discuss amputations! We love amputations. And firefighters at MetroGen. Anyone else coming? Cassie inviting firefighters to join the bachelorette party for lunch

It turns out, sometimes a switch to a different, more attractive occupation can make a male more desirable than a large salary increase. For example, the data from online dating sites suggests that a man who earned $60K in the hospitality industry would become more desirable, on average, if he earned the same amount as a firefighter than if he stayed in the same industry but upped his salary to $200K. In other words, a male firefighter who earns $60K tends to be more attractive to the average heterosexual woman than a hospitality worker who earns $200K. While many men believe they need to earn a substantial salary to “buy” a woman’s love, the data suggests that having a cool job is frequently more attractive than having a boring, but lucrative, job.

pictures of Jasmine the Writing Cat,

Work matters. Quality work matters. It matters to God. Luther famously said that the angels smile when a father changes a dirty diaper. God wants clean rear ends! Of course he does. Why does God care about such small details? Because he loves, that's why. He wants children taught, and he uses principals, teachers, and parents to do it. Not to mention all the staff it takes to run a school. God wants people protected, and he uses firefighters, police officers, and a host of government officials to get the job done. God wants diseases controlled, and he uses doctors, nurses, and researchers to take on this monumental task. He cares deeply about the janitor's work, too, for the very same reason. God wants it all, and he wants it done well. He uses people to do it. He frees Christians from working for him so that they can work for their neighbors.

Chris.

The movie always ends with the ‘I love you.’ He's holding the boombox outside of her room, and they ride off into the sunset. You never hear they broke up a week later when she wanted an East Coast school and he wanted West Coast. The thing that makes love lasting and true is knowing another person. You feel for them, but do you know them, the good, the bad, and the ugly, in your heart of hearts. - Theo Jefferson from Smolder: A Strong Woman Firefighter Romance

pressures and intense learning curve It takes time to get up to speed on the content of your new position, and yet business and markets cannot slow down and wait for you to catch up. Decisions still need to be taken and, consequently, the pressure can build up and will need to be managed in order to stay operating effectively. Being overwhelmed with immediate fire-fighting and task-driven priorities It would be tempting to get busy and dive into the immediate business tasks and issues. But you need to have the strength of character to step back and take time out to look at the big picture: what tasks should you continue, what should you stop, and what should you start? Need to invest energy in building new networks and forging new stakeholder relationships There is no point in having the right vision and strategy in isolation of bringing people with you. The culture may be dense and slow-moving – people may be resistant to the changes you bring. Invest early in the influencer and stakeholder network. Dealing with legacy issues from the predecessor Depending on the quality of your predecessor, your unit may or may not have a good reputation, and your team may have developed poor habits, behaviours and disciplines that will take time to address. Or you may have to endure the scenario of filling the shoes of a much-loved predecessor, and being initially resented as the new guy whose mandate is to change how things have always been done before. Challenges on inheriting or building a team and having to make tough personnel decisions Don’t expect underperformers to have been weeded out prior to your arrival. A key task in your first 100 days will be to assess the quality of your team: who stays, who goes and what fresh talent is needed on board. Unfortunately, your best talent is possibly now de-motivated and resentful – and consequently underperforming – because they applied unsuccessfully for your job. For external appointments, a lack of experience of the new company culture may lead to inadvertent gaffes and early political blunders – all of which can take time to recover From the innocuous to the significant, everything you do is being judged as indicative of your character. Checking your smart device during a meeting may deeply offend your new role stakeholders who may judge that action as an indication that you are brash, uninterested and arrogant. You will need to be on ‘hyper alert’ to consciously pick up clues on the acceptable norms and behaviours in your new culture. Getting the balance right between moving too fast and moving too slowly Newly appointed people sometimes panic and this can result in either doing too much (scattergun approach, but not tackling the core issues) or doing too little (‘I’ll just listen and learn for the first three months, and then decide what to do’). Neither extreme cuts it. Find the right balance.

The drawing depicted what he had seen the day before: an airplane slamming into the tower, a ball of fire, firefighters, and people jumping from the tower’s windows. But at the bottom of the picture he had drawn something else: a black circle at the foot of the buildings. I had no idea what it was, so I asked him. “A trampoline,” he replied. What was a trampoline doing there? Noam explained, “So that the next time when people have to jump they will be safe.” I was stunned: This five-year-old boy, a witness to unspeakable mayhem and disaster just twenty-four hours before he made that drawing, had used his imagination to process what he had seen and begin to go on with his life. Noam was fortunate. His entire family was unharmed, he had grown up surrounded by love, and he was able to grasp that the tragedy they had witnessed had come to an end. During disasters young children usually take their cues from their parents. As long as their caregivers remain calm and responsive to their needs, they often survive terrible incidents without serious psychological scars.

Several of the major weapons companies have been sending urban police departments amped-up military-grade weapons for years. New law enforcement philosophies coming out of L.A. and New York have begun to advocate for special teams of combat-ready police cells. In L.A., the first of these has been given a name, SWAT, and they took on the Black Panthers and the SLA in sustained firefights that armchair John Waynes love to believe put the order back in law and order. In reality, Bobby knows, those gunfights led to limited results, a shitload of property damage, and a new micro-generation of substandard cops who think they can compensate for bad instincts, poor people skills, and limited intelligence with high-powered weaponry.

When I say that intellectual life cultivates our aspirations, I do not mean that it expands career choices, although of course it may do that. We may discover a desire to be a firefighter or a forest ranger through exercising the love of learning. We may decide to leave everything to live in a poor hut outside the village, growing vegetables, praying, and offering spiritual advice when asked. But human aspiration is deeper in range and broader in scope than our outward life. We aspire to ways of being: to be wise, or kind; to be vast in understanding, steadfast in truth, humble in success, witty in adversity. Albert Schweitzer, who left a brilliant career in divinity and music to provide medical care to the poor in Africa, pointed out that not everyone has the opportunity to make such a dramatic and costly choice.27 But anyone furnished with the basic necessities of life can aspire to the splendor of humanity, even if his or her individual splendor is not widely known or recognized

He hated that he was putting her through this, but this was the life of a man or woman who loved a soldier, law enforcement officer, firefighter, or his team. The ones left behind had the difficult jobs.

Be glad you have a voice but no eyes. Since 1953, the talking walls are bigger and louder than ever. The modern-day “firefighters” are armed not with kerosene but snarky Internet memes, reality TV, and the ability to simultaneously see more and less of the world around them. I shouldn’t even tell you, but there are people who don’t believe libraries are necessary anymore. A bunch of Captain Beattys. It’s frightening.

I’d glanced at her gun. This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.

Fire Fighter Not many people remember us, not many people care unless a life is saved or lost, while we are fighting there. We learn to respect the fire we fight, and even love it too. In order to end its destructive path, It's what we train to do. There are many who can't comprehend, why we love the things they fear. We're the first they call in their time of need, it's the reason why we're here The next alarm might make us proud, And heroes of the same kind, Or maybe it will be our last, in service to man kind. But whatever fate brings us, It doesn't change our hearts. We're firefighters to the end. We'll always do our part.

Dr. Susan Forward has written extensively in this area and lists the types of toxic personalities.   The verbal abusers demoralize and diminish another person’s self-esteem. Controllers use fear, obligation, guilt, or financial control to manipulate other’s behavior. “If you really love me, you’ll ...” Active punishers come right out and threaten, “If you don’t do [blank], then you will suffer.” Passive punishers freeze others out with the silent treatment. Inadequate humans are needy types who focus on their own problems and demand attention and constant care. Physical abusers are incapable of controlling their deep seated rage and lash out. Sexual abusers destroy any safety in a relationship. Addicts of all types: drugs, gambling, alcoholics; come complete with huge denial, mood swings, chaos, and financial peril.   Listen

Sharon looked at Aaron and smiled. She’d made the right decision, hadn’t she? Would she come to regret this decision too? She’d made so many mistakes in the past. Was this another one? No, self-doubt isn’t an option. Everything is going to work out here. It has to.

She loved her son and wanted him to make a fresh start here. Her ex-husband always tried to pass Aaron off as normal, not wanting anyone to know his son was different. She wasn’t going to go down that road.

She always thought of Aaron as special not less. He was God’s gift to her, and she wouldn’t trade him for the world.

The hand at her back stroked up and down. Never straying too far south, but igniting a fire inside her that she wanted this fireman to stoke instead of extinguish

I've been in firefights. Bullets and explosions and carnage. I've seen some of the worst that humanity has to offer. And let me tell ya, there ain't nothing more awkward or uncomfortable than when two people who used to love each other, or still do but have forgotten, start to fight in public. Suddenly you're trapped in an unending wrestling match, where psychological dropkicks, clotheslines, and flying elbows are being meted out. And there you are. Caught in the middle. Wondering to all that is holy and good how you got stuck in this spectacle of nope.

kitchen

He’d hardly been in the town of Sawyer more than a couple of hours.

YOU LOVE YOUR JOB, ON THE BEST DAYS YOUR WORKPLACE can seem beautiful, no matter how it might look to the rest of the world. An oilman looks at a flat, dusty plain and sees the potential for untapped fuel. A firefighter sees a burning building and runs into it, adrenaline surging, eager to be of use. A trucker’s love affair is with the open road,

shutting

I do sympathize with them," Exel said. "I'd love to do nothing. Seems like a grand profession. It's never because of the 'do-nothings' that people go to war.

Did you say naughty?” she asked. “Yes. They read steamy romance and then meet over drinks to discuss.” “Are you kidding me? Our mom?” “Let’s say she and her lady friends have an extensive knowledge of firefighters and all of their… equipment.” Anna chuckled. “Wow. That is a surprisingly clear visual, so thank you for that.

She gave a soft whine and tilted her head to the side. She was ugly. Little. Sick. And Tox was totally in love with her.

Love – Gunner Nash left town the day after high school

He hated that he was putting her through this, but this was the life of a man or woman who loved a member of the military, law enforcement officer, firefighter, or his team. The ones left behind had the difficult jobs. Far more difficult than [his]. He trained. Knew he was well prepared, and that he could do the job. And then he was actively doing it while the woman he loved would sit and wait.

Is there a firefighter afraid of fire? Yes, there are many! However, it is obvious that the love for the firefighting profession is much greater than this fear!

She’s using her child to get to you.  Baby, she is off her rocker.  If you could have seen the look in her eyes—she is a freaking psycho.  I will knock the crap out of her if she confronts me like that again.

I will beat her ass.  Don’t let my quietness fool you,” she said wiggling her finger.

Guys, she could be the one.” Nick rolled his eyes and started to count on his fingers. “Man, you said that about Callie, Lisa, Tasha, Marie and I could go on but visiting hours ain’t that long.

The firefighters of Accomack County would be called out two more times that night. They would be called out eighty-six times total over the next five months.

Gabrielle, what the hell happened? I can help Amira and not have a damn thing to do with her mother. As far as the sex, yeah it does seem we hit the bedroom a lot, but I have every intention in getting to know you. I’ve already learned the intimate and fun sides of you and, now I’m seeing more of an insecure side you’ve never shown.

Go! Take her to that bitch therapist you were fucking yesterday! I don’t need you or Amira; that damn kid is weighing me down. She’s just like her no-good father! She doesn’t appreciate me or what I do for her, so good riddance!

You bitch! Jonathan DeMinico will be mine,

But you learn to love someone over time. Their very existence doesn't guarantee that love.