Greg Reid Quotes

A dream written down with a date becomes a goal. A goal broken down into steps becomes a plan. A plan backed by action makes your dreams come true.

Greg’s eyes narrowed on me, but this mouth curved to one side. “I don’t know . . . that feels like something Hitler would say.

marriage is an ultimate sport in emotional multitasking. I’m never only mad at Greg. I’m mad and madly in love; angry and concerned for his wellbeing; he frustrates and delights me in the same second. We were arguing, but we were still a team.

Greg crossed to me, his gaze moving in a slow, cherishing path over my features. “If you knew how I saw you, how I think of you, your ego would become unmanageable.

Greg…not everyone is capable of fighting the great fights. Not everyone is brave and strong and powerful. Let people have their causes. Allow them their victories, when victories can be had, without begrudging the wrongs that they right. Attending to injustice, no matter how small, is always a worthy cause.

Fiona?" I closed my eyes, imagining his face. My heart gave another painful tug. "Yes, Greg?" "Tell me you feel it, too.

FYI: Gentoo penguins mate for life. Whereas Adélie penguins prostitute themselves for rocks. I’d like to be your Gentoo penguin. -Greg

I came home to find three rocks on my desk and a card with a penguin on the front. Seeing it was from Greg, I did a little happy dance as I bounced into my room, reading his inscription. Dearest Fiona, I’m missing you dreadfully. It’s been an age, I don’t think you’ll recognize me when next we meet. I’ve put on ten stone and lost all my hair. And an eye. I hope you fancy a fat bald man with an eye patch. Come out with me on Friday. Finals will finally be over and it’ll be time to celebrate. I’ll pick you up at four. We’ll do a first date do-over, eat at Manganiello’s again, plus a new, improved surprise. Also, FYI: Gentoo penguins mate for life. Whereas Adélie penguins prostitute themselves for rocks. I’d like to be your Gentoo penguin. -Greg P.S. Unless you’re open to a rock arrangement. If so, please find my first down payment enclosed.

Kaboom.” “Kaboom?” I parroted. Greg made a mushroom cloud motion with his hands, his grin widening. “Big kaboom.” “Big kaboom? Is that the technical term?” Both Greg and I turned our attention back to the screen, finding Sandra’s face filling the window. “See, this is why I won’t let you play with Alex, Greg. He likes to blow things up figuratively, and you like to blow things up literally,” she chided. Alex was still smiling as he gently pushed her out of the way, “I like to blow things up literally, too.” “All men do.” She sounded exasperated.

Greg cut in thoughtfully, “Not to play devil’s advocate—” At this, we all scoffed. All of us. Even Quinn. Synchronized eye-rolling. Greg clutched his chest and turned an offended look on his wife. “Et tu, Fiona? Et. Tu.” “Please.” Fiona gave her husband a dry look. “You have an honorary degree in advocacy for the devil from Harvard.” “And you passed the bar in the sixth circle of hell.” Matt grinned. “Just get on with it,” Quinn mumbled under his breath,

Standing in front of the kitchen sink, Sandra was shaking her head, her eyes unfocused. “Okay. I’m so confused. About so many things. First of all,” she pointed at me, “I need the whole story. When did this happen? I didn’t even know you liked him. And secondly,” she turned to Greg, “what is the deal with you guys and the efficiency of your man-gossip phone tree?” Greg gave her a droll look. “Don’t be a hater, Sandra. You ladies need to learn how to communicate more effectively.

Greg’s grin returned and I was happy to see it. “See? No vanity. You’ve lost the ability to care about bullshit that doesn’t matter. You’re a star, the center of a solar system, with no desire for the planets, asteroids, and moons caught in your gravitational field.” “Who wants creepy planets anyway? Planets are amoebas, circling mindlessly in the vacuum of space. They’re star stalkers of the worst sort.” He continued to look at me like I was a treasure. “Planets are creepy, when you put it like that.

There was a short pause before Elizabeth gasped, finally understanding his meaning, “You did that? You put up those pictures of that senator? The naked selfies on the house dot gov main page?” “I did no such thing.” Greg sounded and looked insulted, then added, “Alex did it. I was merely the Pinky to his Brain.

I wasn’t terribly surprised to find Greg standing outside the door to my suite. But I was impressed when he handed me a mug of hot coffee. “I don’t know what a xenophobic hermit requires in the morning, so I made coffee.” His voice was hushed. “Coffee works,” I whispered and took a sip of the black liquid, found it magnificently strong, “as long as it was made with the tears of women and children.” Greg flashed me a grin that made my stomach do backflips. “Is there any other way to make coffee?

Greg was an indiscriminate food stealer.

Never quit, we are always 3 feet from Gold.

Greg put his hand on Tarine’s shoulder comfortably—and that is when Nina realized her twenty-seven-year-old friend was dating a man who was at least fifty.

Poor Quinn.” I glanced at my husband, and found him shaking his head mournfully. “Why poor Quinn?” Kat asked. “Dan still has his crush on Nico, and Quinn isn’t here to defend his bromance.” I snorted because this was true. Dan had a bit of a crush on Nico. But then, we all did. As though reading my thoughts, Sandra mock-whispered, “We all have a crush on Nico. Even you, Greg.” He didn’t deny it; instead, opting to say, “I’m going to start a rumor that Dan and Nico bought tickets to the Cubs opening game, they’re going together, and are hoping to get on the kiss-cam.” I clicked my tongue in mild disapproval. “You are a gossip, Greg Archer.” “Yes. I am. Annoyingly, Alex is worthless at spreading rumors because he’s smitten with Drew.” “And you’re smitten with no one,” I stated. “Untrue. I’m smitten with you.” This earned him an appreciative grin; I lifted my chin. “Well played, husband. Well played.

specialized knowledge”—that is, something that sets a person apart from all others and helps to define his worth and can be the basis for his wealth. The key to specialized knowledge, however, is not merely having it, but sharing it.

 When we were locked and loaded, he led the way and we jogged in silence. Actually, I jogged in silence, my feet and movements soundless. Greg jogged like a large man who used to be a Marine. Crunch. Crash. Smash. Snap. Crack. Amateur.

A survivor of incest and occultism himself, Greg Reid had cause to be aware of mind control ops that transported our nation’s missing blonde haired blue-eyed children over the Mexican border and on to various Arab destinations3. Every border guard, Customs official, and police officer in attendance was aware of this mind control ring. Photos of Columbian and Saudi private jets full of traumatized children were in abundance, yet “National Security” prevented them from bringing the perpetrators to justice.

Right around this same time—give or take a few years, I can't remember—Camila got a call from this guy from her high school. Some guy that was on the baseball team and took her to the prom and all that. I think his name was Greg Egan or Gary Egan? Something like that. She said to me, "I'm gonna go get lunch with Gary Egan." And I said, "Okay." And she went and got lunch with him and she was gone for four hours. No one eats lunch for four hours. When she got back, she gave me a kiss and she, you know, started doing laundry or something and I said, "How was your lunch with Greg Egan?" And she said, "Fine." And that's all she said. In that moment, I knew that what happened between her and Gary Egan—whether she still felt anything for him, how he felt about her, anything that might have taken place—all of that wasn't my business. It wasn't anything she wanted to share. That was a singular moment for her and it had nothing to do with me. I'm not saying that I didn't care. I cared a lot. I'm saying that when you really love someone, sometimes the things they need may hurt you, and some people are worth hurting for. I had hurt Camila. God knows I had. But loving somebody isn't perfection and good times and laughing and making love. Love is forgiveness and patience and faith and every once in a while, it's a gut punch. That's why it's a dangerous thing, when you go loving the wrong person. When you love somebody who doesn't deserve it. You have to be with someone that deserves your faith and you have to be deserving of someone else's. It's sacred.

Greg ceased stomping around the room turned toward the open door, as though just noticing we had company. Both Dara and Hivan’s eyes widened and, in unison, the couple took a step back. Greg charged toward them, chasing them out of the room while continuing to shout-recite, “Oh, that deceit should dwell in such a gorgeous palace. Shame. Shame on thee!” And with that, he slammed the door in both their faces.

Finally, I speak. “Did Greg Phillips just call me a bitch on national television?” My father’s face is flushed; his neck is growing redder by the second. “He did, didn’t he?” I say, frozen in place. “He just called me a bitch.” My father gets up from the table and throws away the newspaper. “I mean…” I say. “I knew they thought it. I just…I didn’t think they said it out loud.” My father puts one of his hands on each of my shoulders. “Pichona,” he says, his voice pleading. “Listen to me carefully.” “It shouldn’t surprise me. But…it does. Why does it feel different than anything else they’ve called me?” “Because it’s disrespectful,” he says. “And you have earned the right of their respect. But listen closely, hija. I am serious.” “Bueno,” I say, looking him in the eye. “Fuck ’em,” he says. “You go win every goddamn match and you show them that you don’t care what they think, you are not going anywhere.

But…” I faltered, because the reason was obvious. “They need privacy.” Hivan’s bellowing greeted our ears, causing Greg to roll his eyes. “They don’t want privacy. They want an audience. A pair of pribbling base-court varlots.” “Pribbling base-court varlots? What does that even mean?” “It’s a Shakespearean insult. Roughly translated, it means selfish twats.

 Meanwhile, I was holding on to my composure by sheer force of will. But when we ended the call I was likely going to dismember Greg’s favorite boxer briefs and hide his cell phone charger. 

Dan : "Greg was whistling. Whistling ! And giving their little gnome a bath. Cutest fucking baby I've ever seen.

great ideas originate from one of three things: A need An unsolved problem An easier way of doing things

If she doesn't learn about data structures at home, she'll just learn about it on the streets." Sandra laughed. This was Greg's stock answer for all the age-inappropriate activities he tried to teach the kids. Most of them were odd, but benign, like computer programming. However some - like coaching them to win every argument by declaring, That sounds like something Hitler would say -were much less benign.

Your jokes are terrible." Greg grinned, walking me backwards into my suite and wagging his eyebrows he corrected me, "It's pronounced tremendous.

Entrepreneurs succeed when they say ‘yes’ to the right project, at the right time, in the right way. To accomplish this, they have to be good at saying ‘no’ to all their other ideas. Essentialism offers concise and eloquent advice on how to determine what you care about most, and how to apply your energies in ways that ultimately bring you the greatest rewards.” —Reid Hoffman, co-founder/chairman of Linkedin and co-author of the #1 New York Times bestseller The Start-up of You

Also, FYI: Gentoo penguins mate for life. Whereas Adélie penguins prostitute themselves for rocks. I’d like to be your Gentoo penguin. -Greg P.S. Unless you’re open to a rock arrangement. If so, please find my first down payment enclosed.