Gorgeous Bride Quotes

We’re going to get a couple pretty, fluffy inches in the morning for a gorgeous December evening wedding. Go get ready for rehearsal.” “I’m afraid of rehearsal. My voice is going to squeak. I think I’m getting a zit right in the middle of my chin. I’m going to trip coming down the aisle. It’s okay if Carter trips. People expect it. But –” … “Carter isn’t nervous. “Mac narrowed her eyes in a scowl. “I could hate him for that.” “Mackensie.” Parker turned from the computer. “I was in the kitchen this morning when Mrs. G made him sit down and eat some breakfast. He put maple syrup in his coffee.” “He did?” She threw up her arms in a cheer. “He is nervous. I feel better.

I’ll be your handmaid, Thor,” I said. “Don’t worry, I won’t steal your thunder. You’ll make a gorgeous bride.” Thor growled.

What's the occasion?" she asked. He kissed her ear. "I've got a gorgeous woman who's going to be my bride." She laughed. "You have that every night." "That's why I want to celebrate.

The gorgeous cacophony of humanity in wheelchairs, some wearing special eyeglasses, others in hearing aids, signing and gesturing, the winks and chortles and grunts of pleasure, the grimaces and shaking of heads and excited howling of those without 'normal' ability. It’s impossible to describe. But it all boils down to the same thing. Love.

In one afternoon, my entire life shattered and then all of a sudden this great guy comes along like some mythical knight in shining armor. He's gorgeous, loaded, and says all the right things to me. He makes me feel like I can fly, and every time he shows up, he makes everything better. I'm not used to this, okay? And I'm not used to being with a guy who is so incredibly sexy that he makes me feel like the booby prize." - Bride

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

I thought bridesmaid's dresses were supposed to be horrid and ugly to make the bride more stunning," I joked to her in a whisper. "Yeah right, you marry a gorgeous actor and you want me to show up in a Goodwill special? No way sister! There are bound to be other single, gorgeous actors around, and I intend to land one of them for myself. Or get laid at the very least."...

Lovely ceremony, gorgeous bride. Take care of her.” Troy brushed his thumb over his lips, scanning my body like it was dessert.

Moshe watched spellbound from the wings as Webb, a tiny man with a curved spine clad in a white suit, roared with laughter and enthusiasm as he played, egging his band on from the rear with his masterful drumming, the thunderous band shaking the floor with rip-roaring waves of gorgeous sound. That man, Moshe decided, was a joymaker. And Moshe could not help but notice that Webb, like his lovely Chona, had a physical disability. Though he was a hunchback of some kind, he moved with a certain feeling of joy, a lightness, as if every moment were precious.

In my mind, no other flower can compete with the perfection and the fragrance of the Peony. The silky petals, delicate shape, romantic shades and graceful foliage make this flower my all time favorite and I’m not alone. Brides plan their wedding dates around peony season. Flower enthusiasts plant them all through their gardens. Florists go crazy over all the different shades available from white, to coral, yellow to reds and every imaginable pink!  Sadly, this bloom can only be enjoyed in nature for a very short time each year. That’s the reason their paper counterparts have become such a hit!

At its heart, a true revel was nothing more than a gorgeous held breath, a moment where Fate herself pivots on a frail ankle, and destinies snap shut or burst forth when her heel hits the wood.

Didn’t Gran make a beautiful bride, Jackson?” Celia asked. “Hmm? Yes. Beautiful.” He covered her gloved hand with his. “Though not nearly as beautiful a bride as you were.” She smiled. “Flatterer.” “Not a bit. It’s the absolute truth.” “You were a gorgeous bride,” Aunt Ada agreed. “That veil with the rosettes…” And they were off again, discussing gauze and ribbons and something called a furbelow. That last one sounded dirty, but he figured it probably wasn’t, it they were discussing it with such enthusiasm.

Bernice, her gorgeous dark face always so grim, the smooth black skin of an unmelting armor draped over the gorgeous nose and full lips, smiled sadly. That was a rare thing to see. It was as if a sweet drizzle of desert rain had come into the room and washed them all.

I think I’m going to wear blue to the wedding. I saw this gorgeous dress on sale at Macy’s the other day. I think I have a coupon,” Mom tells Liz. “Oh hell no! I already told you I was going to wear blue, you whore. You can’t wear the same color as me, that’s tacky,” Liz complains. Oh my God, this is not happening right now. “Fuck your mother. I’m wearing blue. I already found my dress,” Mom argues. “I’m the mother of the bride. The mother of the f**king bride! That means it’s up to me!” Liz fires back. “Claire, I think you would look lovely in blue,” Tyler pipes in. Mom turns to face Tyler and folds her arms on top of the table. “When I’m finished neutering you, I’m going to take your tiny little neuticles and light them on fire.

Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada The Door, by Magda Svabo The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth Fates and Furies, by Lauren Groff The Overstory, by Richard Power Night Train, by Lise Erdrich Her Body and Other Parties, by Carmen Maria Machado The Penguin Book of the Modern American Short Story, edited by John Freeman Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates Birds of America, by Lorrie Moore Mongrels, by Stephen Graham Jones The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans Tenth of December, by George Saunders Murder on the Red River, by Marcie R. Rendon Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong The Unwomanly Face of War, by Svetlana Alexievich Standard Deviation, by Katherine Heiny All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews The Death of the Heart, by Elizabeth Bowen Mean Spirit, by Linda Hogan NW, by Zadie Smith Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley Erasure, by Percival Everett Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami Books for Banned Love Sea of Poppies, by Amitav Ghosh The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje Euphoria, by Lily King The Red and the Black, by Stendahl Luster, by Raven Leilani Asymmetry, by Lisa Halliday All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides The Vixen, by Francine Prose Legends of the Fall, by Jim Harrison The Winter Soldier, by Daniel Mason

Fire on the Mountain, by Anita Desai Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada The Door, by Magda Szabó The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth Fates and Furies, by Lauren Groff The Overstory, by Richard Power Night Train, by Lise Erdrich Her Body and Other Parties, by Carmen Maria Machado The Penguin Book of the Modern American Short Story, edited by John Freeman Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates Birds of America, by Lorrie Moore Mongrels, by Stephen Graham Jones The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans Tenth of December, by George Saunders Murder on the Red River, by Marcie R. Rendon Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong The Unwomanly Face of War, by Svetlana Alexievich Standard Deviation, by Katherine Heiny All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews The Death of the Heart, by Elizabeth Bowen Mean Spirit, by Linda Hogan NW, by Zadie Smith Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley Erasure, by Percival Everett Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami

Next stop: the cake. The couple had ordered theirs through one of Alfie's hotel pastry chefs, and it was three tiers of buttercream-frosted flowers that cascaded down all sides. One thing Cedric taught his planners was to consider where a wedding would take place and what was most appropriate for that setting---especially when it came to the cake. For example, if the couple wanted their wedding cake displayed at an outsider reception, they were limited to the type of frosting since many varieties melted in warm temperatures. Obviously, ice cream cakes were almost always out of the question, not only because they melted but also because they should only appear at toddler's parties, as Cedric was quick to say. Meanwhile fondant, while gorgeous, wasn't always the tastiest but could withstand a nuclear attack. We gave Camila and Alfie the gentler version of this spiel, but they insisted on savory buttercream regardless---and agreed to leave the cake inside on the big day. I had doubts about how much the bride actually loved cake anyway, given that she looked as if she maybe one piece of lettuce a day. But, "A wedding without a cake isn't really a wedding"---another one of Cedric's truisms, this one inspired by the Candy Bar Craze of 2009 and the Great Doughnuts of 2013.

Hey, Lottie?" asked Claire. "Who are those girls?" She gawked at the entrance to the reception tent. I followed her gaze and we both laid eyes on two extremely tall and gorgeous women who had just strolled in. Who came to a wedding after the ceremony? (Tacky people, that's who.) The glamazons were dressed from head to toe in Valentino and looked like they came straight off the runway. I approached one of the young women, hoping to sniff out whether she was a wedding crasher or not. "Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?" "Neither!" she said with a toss of her thick, dark-brown hair. "We're Alfie's daughters. We weren't going to come, but we decided it would be more fun to actually show up and ruin the wedding." Talk about literal. Subtext and these girls were not friends. "Oh, hi," I replied. "Well, you missed the ceremony, but cocktail hour has begun. The first dance will be starting soon." "Perfect." She walked between Claire and me like we were a pair of black curtains. "Why is it that hot, mean girls are still intimidating, even a decade after high school?" I winced.

BOOKS RECOMMENDED BY KATHLEEN MCGOWAN The Brother of Jesus and the Lost Teachings of Christianity, Jeffrey J. Butz Excellent account of early Christianity and its factions. Rev. Jeff’s understanding of Greek translations was a revelation for me. A rare scholarly work that is entirely readable and entertaining. The Woman with the Alabaster Jar, Margaret Starbird A pioneering book in Magdalene research, Starbird was one of the first to assert the theory of Magdalene as bride. Mary Magdalen, Myth and Metaphor, Susan Haskins The definitive Magdalene reference book. Massacre at Montsegur, Zoé Oldenbourg Classic, scholarly account of the final days of the Cathars. The Perfect Heresy, by Stephen O’Shea A very readable book on Cathar history. Chasing the Heretics, Rion Klawinski A history-filled memoir of traveling through Cathar country. Key to the Sacred Pattern, Henry Lincoln Fascinating theories on the sacred geometry of Rennes-le-Château and the Languedoc by one of the authors of Holy Blood, Holy Grail. Relics of Repentance, James F. Forcucci Contains the letters of Claudia Procula, the wife of Pontius Pilate. The Church of Mary Magdalene, Jean Markale Poet and philosopher Jean Markale’s quest for the sacred feminine in Rennes-le-Château. The Gospel of Mary Magdalene and The Gospel of Philip, Jean-Yves Leloup Highly readable French scholarly analyses of important Gnostic material. Nostradamus and the Lost Templar Legacy, Rudy Cambier Professor Cambier explores the prophecies of the Expected One from another angle. Who Wrote the Gospels?, Randel McCraw Helms Fascinating theories from a noted scholar on the authorship of the Gospels. Jesus and the Lost Goddess, Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy Well-researched alternative theories, also provides excellent resource list. Botticelli, Frank Zollner The ultimate coffee table book, with gorgeous reproductions of the art and great analysis of Sandro’s life and career.

by Erin and Wild Wind’s attention returned to the bedroom area.  While the flap was held back by Shadow, Ross came out the bedroom with Roxie on his arm.               Wild Wind felt a shockwave of surprise and desire when he saw Roxie in the dazzling white buckskin dress with the loose, long-fringed sleeves and matching moccasins.  Long, golden braids hung down the front of it and her luminous blue eyes looked bigger to him.  She was stunningly gorgeous and he was even prouder than before to be marrying such a beautiful woman.               Roxie had never seen Wild Wind in his ceremonial clothing and she thought he looked regal in the ornate

almost everything—her mother, the job, the town, and especially Drake Everett, the cocky, gorgeous jock who broke her heart in high school. I hope you enjoy her story—and all the other Montana Born stories, especially the Great Wedding

The way I see it,” she went on, “our friendship, and our working relationship, were solid foundations we built over time. Now you’re here wanting more, and the way we started that next step was with a kiss. So I feel like we’ve done just about everything two people can do in getting to know each other except…finish that kiss. It seemed to me that the logical next step, the next piece of information we needed to know, was what comes next when we let that kiss go to its natural conclusion.” She did smile then, and her emerald green eyes blazed as she let down a guard he didn’t know she’d still had erected, letting him see for the first time the rest of what she was feeling. “Or at least that was my rationale for finally letting myself have what I fantasized about having, all those months I worked next to you.” He opened his mouth, then shut it again when her words sank in. “I--what did you just say?” Her smile remained, but there was a new light flickering in the depths of her eyes now, one that somehow managed to look bold, excited, and endearingly nervous all at the same time. “You weren’t alone, Cooper, in wanting…what you wanted. At least the physical attraction part anyway. I should have been more forthright about that when you showed up at the pub, or afterward. But at least try to see this from my perspective. Suddenly, out of the blue, the man I lusted after all those months was standing, quite improbably, right in front of me, in his full, Technicolor gorgeousness, looking even better than the guy I was sure I’d exaggerated and romanticized. Right there, in the flesh. And before I could even begin to get a grip on that, you went all going down on bended knee on me, and--it was all so much, too much, to even begin to process.” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Maybe if you’d just dragged me into your arms and not given me a chance to think, I might have surrendered right there on the spot, and the rest of the Cove be damned. But instead you’re all sincere, with your big, beautiful heart hanging on your sleeve, all earnest and lovely, and I so didn’t deserve anything like that, not after the way I left things between me and your entire family. I didn’t have the first clue what to do with that. With you.” Her smile turned decidedly rueful. “So, naturally, I resorted to form. I shut you down, told you to go away. If I couldn’t run away, I was going to make damn sure you did. I mean, it was one thing to leave Cameroo, then insult you and your family by not keeping in touch. It was another thing entirely to do it again, right to your face.” “I hate to interrupt,” he said, trying like hell not to grin, then drag her into his lap to do what he apparently should have done the moment he’d laid eyes on her again. “But I haven’t heard a word you’ve said since that part where you’ve been lusting after me for two years.

Kerry had headed up the back stairs of the pub, and even as exhausted as she was, she’d still found it impossible to wipe that image of Cooper from her mind. The sun setting over his back, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders, sending shadows under those cheekbones, made more chiseled by the ridiculously gorgeous, shit-eating grin that had been on his face when he made it clear he was in town to stay. “For another twenty-nine days anyway.” Kerry pulled her pillow over her face and groaned. Part of her was still in utter shock that he was actually there, in her town. Hell, in her orbit at all. Other parts of her--most of them hormonally activated--were still all aquiver from that kiss. She groaned again and ground clenched fists into the mattress on either side of her hips. Damn, but that kiss… How many times had she lain in bed, just like this, only in a bunkhouse at Cameroo Downs, and wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Cooper Jax? Okay, okay, a whole lot more than kissed. But damn…that kiss alone had been worlds better than the best sex she’d ever had. So much so, he’d probably ruined her for having sex with mere mortals. So I guess you’ll just have to have sex with him, then. “Not helpful,” she grunted at her little voice, jerking the pillow off her face and thumping it on the bed beside her. Besides, even if she was willing to have some kind of fling with Cooper, fulfill even a sliver of the many, oh, so very many fantasies she’d had about the man, he’d made it clear from pretty much the moment he’d set foot back into her world that he wasn’t looking for a fling. He’d strolled right in and made it clear he was looking for a--no. She squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her lips, willing her mind to go blank. It didn’t work. She couldn’t shut it out. Cooper Jax had, basically, proposed to her. Then he’d walked all up and down a kelp-covered, low-tide seashore and listened to her enumerate the reasons why they couldn’t even contemplate such a union. Right before kissing her in a way that defied science and made her wonder if she might need a pregnancy test, before pretty much declaring he was going to spend the next four weeks making it as impossible for her to say no to his doing that again, and maybe more, as he could.

I see you’ve been paying attention to my pirate tricks.” “Indeed I have,” she said, looking down into his handsome face and twinkling blue eyes. She didn’t want to think about the next chapter, not now, not yet. But there it was, staring up at her, framed in tousled blond hair and five o’clock shadow. This could be your life, Kerry McCrae. Just say yes. “In other news,” she said, sliding off him to sit on the side of the bed, drawing the sheet around her, trying like hell to push those thoughts away for now, “we need to pull anchor before the sun gets any lower.” “Aw, because that would be…bad?” he said, tugging at the sheet. She couldn’t help it; she laughed, and the glow simply refused to fade. She tugged the sheet free from his grasp and stood, albeit on wobbly legs for a moment or two. Summoning her most haughty pirate queen manner, she made a show of draping the end of the sheet over her shoulder and shaking loose her bed-head curls, knowing she likely looked more like Medusa than anything remotely regal. “Your merry band of one here is going topside to get us underway.” She made the mistake of looking at him, sprawled in all his gorgeous, naked indolence across white sheets, beams of the lowering sun streaking across his golden skin, making it look even more burnished than it already was. Dear Lord, she wanted to have him all over again. Even hungrier now that she knew what awaited her when she did. Taking full advantage of her hesitation, he propped his arms behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankles, a grin equally as indolent as his pose sliding across his handsome face. “You were saying, my queen?” She scooped a pillow off the floor and threw it at him. “Incorrigible.” Chuckling, he caught the pillow with one hand and tucked it behind his head. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s near the top of the list of preferred character traits in the pirate handbook.” She laughed, then dodged to the door when he made a sudden, nimble grab for the edges of the sheet.

You should have informed me about the Luck Kiss. It’s going to be excruciatingly embarrassing for both Sophia and myself.” Baird frowned at him. “You really don’t want to kiss her, do you? What’s wrong—don’t you find her attractive? She looks just like Olivia in the face, even if they do have totally different personalities.” “No, no—it’s not that,” Sylvan protested. “She’s beautiful—gorgeous.” In fact, just the thought of Sophia’s curvy figure and lovely face made his shaft harden uncomfortably in his dress slacks and the double set of fangs in his upper teeth sharpen alarmingly. And then there was the matter of those troubling dreams he’d been having lately…but it was better not to think about that. “I just don’t want to kiss a female who doesn’t want me to kiss her,” he ended stiffly. “Loosen up, Sylvan—it’s just one kiss. And it isn’t like you two are going to be spending a lot of time together afterwards.” Baird slapped him on the back. “Come on—I hear the music starting and my bride is waiting for me. Are you going to stand with me or not?” “Of course I will.” Sylvan frowned, stung that his half-brother would think he might go back on his promise. “I’ll always stand by you, Brother—in danger, darkness or despair.” It was a warrior’s pledge and Baird smiled when he heard it. “I appreciate that. But why do I get the feeling you’d be more comfortable going back to the Scourge Fathership with me than standing beside me at my bonding ceremony?” “Probably because I would,” Sylvan admitted with a sigh.

What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?” Lock shoved his brother up against the wall of the guest suite they were staying in and glared into Deep’s bottomless black eyes. “Why are you acting this way? Are you trying to scare her off?” Deep laughed harshly and brushed off his brother’s hands. “As if we had a shot with her. Did you see those curves? She’s fucking gorgeous—an elite.” “We’re not bad looking,” Lock objected. “I’ve heard Earth females find our kind attractive.” “The other Kindred races, maybe. But not the Twin Kindred. We scare them, Lock. The idea of one woman with two males at once frightens them out of their skulls.” “They can’t all be scared—there are plenty of Twin Kindred with brides aboard the Mother ship.” “Not nearly as many as Beast Kindred and Blood Kindred. Why don’t you just face it, brother? Calling an Earth female as a bride is a bad idea.” “You

Why are you so eager, anyway? We just met this girl—this Kat. What makes her so special that you’re already thinking of claiming her?” Lock ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “Because she is, as you said, gorgeous. But it isn’t just that—she’s special, Deep. Couldn’t you feel it when you spoke to her?” “I didn’t feel a damn thing and there’s no way you could have either,” Deep growled. “Our minds aren’t even aligned with hers—we haven’t shared a single dream.” “But we could.” Lock glared at his twin in frustration. Deep had always been a pessimist, but ever since Miranda he’d closed himself off almost entirely. It was like he thought if he didn’t allow himself to feel anything he could never be hurt again. “Kat has potential,” he told his twin. “If you don’t scare her off, that is.” Deep narrowed his eyes. “Define potential.” “She’s beautiful, single, and she can stand up to you. The way she slapped you when you scented her…” Lock shook his head, laughing softly. “If that’s not potential, I don’t know what is.” “She does have spirit, I’ll give you that.” Deep smiled grudgingly and Lock felt something loosen in his heart. He seldom saw a genuine smile on his twin’s face anymore. “But Brother,” Deep continued, “If you don’t want to scare her off, you shouldn’t have agreed to let her act as our focus. If there’s anything more frightening than having two males inside her body, it would have to be having two males inside her mind. She’ll have to have a will of iron to withstand our joining.” Lock nodded, feeling troubled. “You’re right. But you saw her, Deep—she wouldn’t be denied.” He went and dropped down onto the extra long couch which was standard for all Twin Kindred suites. “And she’s right—she may make the difference between finding Sylvan in time or losing him and the Earth female he was with forever.” “True.” Deep seated himself beside his twin and put an arm over the other man’s shoulders in a rare gesture of affection. “Take heart, Brother. If she survives the joining and still comes back for more, I’ll admit she has potential.” “Very

It’s all right,” Kat said softly, sitting beside him. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get away. I should have, though—I don’t want to lead you on.” He gave her a look from the corner of his eye. “Meaning you still have no interest in us.” “I think I could if I let myself—I could have feelings for you, anyway,” Kat said honestly. “I mean, you’re sweet and kind and caring and gorgeous—what more could a girl want?” “But?” Lock raised one dark blond eyebrow at her. “But…” she said reluctantly. “You come with an awful lot of baggage. You know what I mean.” “Yes.” He nodded heavily. “Yes, I do. But my lady, if you could just give Deep a chance…” Kat was already shaking her head. “I’m afraid not, Lock, it would never work. Deep and I—we’re like oil and water—we don’t mix. We can’t even have a single conversation without it turning into a shouting match.” Lock’s broad shoulders slumped. “I know he’s difficult to get along with. But he truly does care for you.” “Then why don’t I feel it?” Kat asked. “I get all these strong emotions from you two but what I mostly feel from him is lust and annoyance. He wants me but mostly I irritate him.” “You’re only feeling what he lets himself feel,” Lock protested. “But under all that, he cares. I know he does.” “Maybe you just want him to,” Kat said gently. “Because you two come as a package deal and I can’t take one without the other. Look, I can tell how hard it is for you and I’m sorry—really I am. But aside from the whole feeling both of your emotions thing and the, uh, way you perform bonding sex which is scary to say the least…” she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Aside from that, the fact is, I just can’t let myself get involved with two guys when one of them can’t stand me.

It is fairly natural and perhaps even necessary that a new community is taken up with its own originality and tends to idealize itself. If it didn't believe itself to be unique, perhaps it would never have been founded at all. It's like love, which always starts by idealization of the other: a baby is always the most gorgeous in the world to its parents, and a bride is always the most beautiful to her husband. With time, both parents and married couples become more realistic; perhaps too they become more committed, more faithful and more loving. It is understandable that a new community should be turned in on itself, strongly conscious of its qualities and originality, and giving thanks for these. At the start of a marriage, a couple has to take time to forge its unity, this isn't egoism, but a necessary stage and growth. With time, the community must stand back a little to discover the beauty and particular gifts of others, as well as its own limitations. Once it has found its own identity and discovered how the Holy Spirit is guiding it, it must be very attentive to the manifestations of the Spirit in others. It should not believe that it is the only community to have the privilege of being inspired by the Holy Spirit; it should listen to what the Spirit is saying to others. This will enable it to rediscover its own gifts and mission and encourage it to be more faithful to them. This in turn will enable it to discover its place in the Church and in humanity as a whole. If it is not attentive, the community risks missing a decisive turning point in its own growth.

Apple may not do customer research to decide what products to make, but it absolutely pays attention to how customers use its products. So the marketing team working on the iMovie HD release scheduled for Macworld, on January 11, 2005, decided to shoot a wedding. The ceremony it filmed was gorgeous: a sophisticated, candlelit affair at the Officers’ Club of San Francisco’s Presidio. The bride was an Apple employee, and the wedding was real. There was one problem with the footage, however. Steve Jobs didn’t like it. He watched it the week before Christmas, recalled Alessandra Ghini, the marketing executive managing the launch of iLife. Jobs declared that the San Francisco wedding didn’t capture the right atmosphere to demonstrate what amateurs could do with iMovie. “He told us he wanted a wedding on the beach, in Hawaii, or some tropical location,” said Ghini. “We had a few weeks to find a wedding on a beach and to get it shot, edited, and approved by Steve. The tight time frame allowed for no margin for error.” With time short and money effectively no object, the team went into action. It contacted Los Angeles talent agencies as well as hotels in Hawaii to learn if they knew of any weddings planned—preferably featuring an attractive bride and groom—over the New Year’s holiday. They hit pay dirt in Hollywood: A gorgeous agency client and her attractive fiancé were in fact planning to wed on Maui during the holiday. Apple offered to pay for the bride’s flowers, to film the wedding, and to provide the couple with a video. In return, Apple wanted rights for up to a minute’s worth of footage of its choosing.

I don’t want to marry you.” His features went deathly still and that vibe grew stifling. I didn’t see him move his arm until the slap rang through the hallway. My head snapped to the side, but even then, I needed an extra second to figure out why. He’d slapped me. I put my hand to my face. Stinging heat spread through my cheek, and he crowded close. “We’re not playing this game today,” he said in a low, threatening voice. “You hit me.” “That was not a hit. Now, go back to your room. Clean that shit off your face and don’t come out until you’re my gorgeous bride.

I’m dazed by all of the attention, the never-ending flow of people coming up to us and telling us what a beautiful ceremony it was and what a gorgeous bride I make.

It was a gorgeous cake, prosecco sponge with a delicate strawberry filling that I'd perfected over the summer. The kirsch liqueur made the flavors come alive and burst into a symphony on the taste buds.

Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada The Door, by Magda Svabo The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth Fates and Furies, by Lauren Groff The Overstory, by Richard Power Night Train, by Lise Erdrich Her Body and Other Parties, by Carmen Maria Machado The Penguin Book of the Modern American Short Story, edited by John Freeman Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates Birds of America, by Lorrie Moore Mongrels, by Stephen Graham Jones The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans Tenth of December, by George Saunders Murder on the Red River, by Marcie R. Rendon Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong The Unwomanly Face of War, by Svetlana Alexievich Standard Deviation, by Katherine Heiny All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews The Death of the Heart, by Elizabeth Bowen Mean Spirit, by Linda Hogan NW, by Zadie Smith Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley Erasure, by Percival Everett Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami

He’s striking. He’s savage. He’s undeniably gorgeous. And yet all I can think is: They sent a beast for me.

They saw her not as a neighbor but as an artery to freedom, for the recollection of Chona’s telltale limp as she and her childhood friend, a tall, gorgeous, silent soul named Bernice Davis, walked down the pitted mud roads of the Hill to school each morning was stamped in their collective memory. It was proof of the American possibility of equality: we all can get along no matter what, look at those two.

She’s gorgeous in a crown—but I prefer her in nothing at all.

My Angel Sleeps by Stewart Stafford My angel sleeps, do not disturb, Painless and gorgeous in repose, In resting flight, I still see her, Her embryonic features now froze. Many times, she called me father, And hastened me to her side, Entwined as one, no one to part us, Now, the earth's youthful bride. Let me cast more soil upon you, To soften your final resting place, My heart's core I leave with you, To claim back when face to face. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

For a good hour, the hairdresser poked, prodded, and preened me. She twisted my hair into a loose updo, sticking white roses and baby's breath into my locks, the photographer capturing each step with her camera. Finally, Jane helped me into the dress. "Wow," said Phillipa with a gasp, staring at me. "You look absolutely gorgeous. Like you've fallen from the stars." "She does," said Marie, and everybody nodded in agreement. I hooked the necklace Rémi had given me around my neck. And then I took a good look at myself in the full-length mirror. What I saw shocked me. In this glorious dress, the way the silver threads sparkled, I felt like I was sparkling, too, like I had metamorphosed from a caterpillar into a wild butterfly. It was then that I found my own spirit insect---probably Grand-mère's plan all along. Le Papillon Sauvage. Me.

Hullo, Rose,’ said Delia Brandon, ‘you do look gorgeous. I wish I could have a wedding dress like that.’ Rose said she thought white satin was a bit dispiriting, but Mummy would have it. ‘And anyway,’ she said with great simplicity, ‘if there was a war or anything and John got killed or something, I could have it dyed black.

She wore a gorgeous white dress, for her wedding, and a beautiful black cloak, for her funeral.

Here I am with a gorgeous Muggle, and the world still has magic in it. The Princess Bride is on TV, and there is a masked vigilante still out there in the world if things get too crazy. The universe is just about perfect.

Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief she is gorgeous. Because you’re a woman, people will force their thinking, boundaries on you. They’ll tell you how to dress, how to behave, who you can meet and where you can go; don’t live in the shadows of people’s judgment. Make your own choices in the light of your wisdom. The way you dress is an expression of your personality; there’s no need to wear like everyone else. It’s much more fun to create your look! While a wedding on the beach may sound like a unique concept, it has been happening on various beaches of the world. A lot of brides are opting for exotic beach locations for their weddings instead of a traditional church wedding. To pick the right bridal attire for a particular wedding, you will need to consider many different elements. This can depend on the location, season and local practices or customs, as well as the type of beach itself, can be an important factor when selecting beach wedding dresses. Choosing from all the different beach wedding dresses can be one of the most fun things to choose from. Do you want to have an elegant and formal wedding, a casual and simple wedding, or a semi-formal or semi-casual wedding? Whichever you prefer, you can find the right style of dress for it.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frighten us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?