Hancock Love Quotes

It’s lovely loving, isn’t it? In fact, I find it almost better, because being loved sometimes embarrasses me, but loving is a gift.

Life in Lubbock, Texas taught me two things: One is that God loves you and you're going to burn in hell. The other is that sex is the most awful, filthy thing on earth, and you should save it for someone you love.

i cried because i was full of dead stars and broken debris, but you still called me beautiful.

we looked at each other like we were the sun and the moon locked in a gravitational war, bound to cross and bound to break apart.

but you looked at me like i was your whole universe. i cried because i was full of dead stars and broken debris, but you still called me beautiful.

we ended like a supernova, in an explosion that was slow and fast at the same time.

I think the overriding message would be that love is serious business. True, down-to-the-crap love is not for the shallow or faint of heart. People are messy. Marriage is messy. You have to bring your best self to the game despite your limitations.

i didn't bleed just so you could say my blood isn't red enough for you

For mermaids are the most unnatural of creatures and their hearts are empty of love.

I am convinced that the way forward for the human race is to recognize and protect the fundamental right of sovereignty over consciousness, to throw off the chains of our divisive religious heritage, to seek out forms of spirituality (or no spirituality at all if we so prefer) that are truly supportive of liberty and tolerance, to help the human spirit to grow rather than to wither, and to nurture our innate capacity for love and mutual respect. The old ways are broken and bankrupt and new ways are struggling to be born. Each one of us with our own talents, and by our own choices, has a part to play in that process.

if you love somebody, tell them. if you think somebody may need a friend, be that friend. you don't want to be stuck in the aftermath of a tragedy, thinking, "oh, if only i'd said this. if only i'd done this.

If only [there] really was a door and [you] could walk through it into another life, where threads didn't snarl and stitches didn't go all tight and tiny. Where people loved you and didn't leave you for someone else.

you have to learn how to breathe with pieces of your heart piercing your lungs. trust somebody you shouldn't, make a bad decision. but always learn from your mistakes. too many wrong moves will kill you.

people say it's possible to die from a broken heart. before you, i didn't believe it.

i think i saw you in my dreams, my dear, and i learned a thing or two, i have a soulmate, he's there somewhere, but that soulmate isn't you.

i can learn not to need you, for what is a bigger waste of time than holding the hand of someone who is a ghost of the love they used to give you?

i had only wanted you to love me right. i just wish you had figured out how.

you were the flaming meteor about to send me in smoke but i kissed you anyways. there's a burning crater on my lips from your touch and i think i may always be in love with you. we looked at each other like we were the sun and the moon and we knew we'd only eclipse for so long.

the older you get and the more secure you are in your marriage you forget what it felt like when the person you love more than anything leaves you and you have to teach yourself how to breathe and blink and eat again.

11. there will be days where you look in the mirror and want to remold your body like clay, days where you may not even want to get out of bed. on those days, it's okay to cry, to want to be different. but the next morning, remind yourself; you will be okay, you will be okay, you will be okay.

You were the flaming meteor about to send me up in smoke but I kissed you anyways

10 facts about abusive relationships (what i wish i'd known) 1. it's not always loud. it's not always obvious. the poison doesn't always hit you like a gunshot. sometimes, it seeps in quietly, slowly. sometimes, you don't even know it was ever there until months after. 2. love is not draining. love is not tiring. this is not how it is supposed to be. 3. apologies are like band-aids, when what you really need is stitches– they don't actually fix anything long-term. soon enough, you'll be bleeding again, but they will never give you what you really need. 4. this is not your fault. you did not turn them into this. this is how they are, how they've always been. you can't blame yourself. 5. there will be less good days than bad days but the good days will be so amazing that it will feel like everything is better than it actually is. your mind is playing tricks on itself and your heart is trying to convince itself that it made the right choice. 6. they do not love you. they can not love you. this is not love. 7. you're not wrong for wanting to run, so do it. listen to what your gut is telling you. 8. you will let them come back again and again before you realize that they only change long enough for you to let them in one more time. 9. it's okay to be selfish and leave. there is never any crime in putting yourself first. when they tell you otherwise, don't believe them. don't let them tear you down. they want to knock you off your feet so that they can keep you on the ground. 10. after, you will look back on this regretting all the chances given, all the time wasted. you will think about what you know now, and what you would do differently if given the chance. part of you will say that you would never have even given them the time of the day, but another part of you, the larger one, will say that even after everything, you wouldn't have changed a thing. and as much as it will bother you, eventually, you will realize that that is the part that is right. because as much as it hurts, as much as you wish you'd never felt that pain, it has taught you something. it has helped you grow. they brought you something that you would have never gotten from somebody else. at the end of the day, you will accept that even now, you wouldn't go about it differently at all.

Smiling victoriously, he crushed me against his chest and kissed me again. This time, the kiss was bolder and playful. I ran my hands from his powerful shoulders, up to his neck, and pressed him close to me. When he pulled away, his face brightened with an enthusiastic smile. He scooped me up and spun me around the room, laughing. When I was thoroughly dizzy, he sobered and touched his forehead to mine. Shyly, I reached out to touch his face, exploring the angles of his cheeks and lips with my fingertips. He leaned into my touch like the tiger did. I laughed softly and ran my hands up into his hair, brushing it away from his forehead, loving the silky feel of it. I felt overwhelmed. I didn’t expect a first kiss to be so…life altering. In a few brief moments, the rule book of my universe had been rewritten. Suddenly I was a brand new person. I was as fragile as a newborn, and I worried that the deeper I allowed the relationship to progress, the worse that the deeper I allowed the relationship to progress, the worse it would be if Ren left. What would become of us? There was no way to know, and I realized what a breakable and delicate thing a heart was. No wonder I’d kept mine locked away. He was oblivious to my negative thoughts, and I tried to push them into the back of my mind and enjoy the moment with him. Setting me down, he briefly kissed me again and pressed soft kisses along my hairline and neck. Then, he gathered me into a warm embrace and just held me close. Stroking my hair while caressing my neck, he whispered soft words in his native language. After several moments, he sighed, kissed my cheek, and nudged me toward the bed. “Get some sleep, Kelsey. We both need some.” After one last caress on my cheek with the back of his fingers, he changed into his tiger form and lay down on the mat beside my bed. I climbed into bed, settled under my quilt, and leaned over to stroke his head. Tucking my other arm under my cheek, I softly said, “Goodnight, Ren.” He rubbed his head against my hand, leaned into it, and purred quietly. Then he put his head on his paws and closed his eyes. Mae West, a famous vaudeville actress, once said, “A man’s kiss is his signature.” I grinned to myself. If that was true, then Ren’s signature was the John Hancock of kisses.

I think I saw you in my dreams, my dear and I learned a thing or two, I have a soul mate, he's there somewhere but that soul mate isn't you

Love grapples judgement and experience from the hands of even the wisest of souls: what hope is there for anybody else?

Maxine Hancock says we should think of ourselves as the servant leaders of our homes. I think by the addition of the word leaders, she implies that while we serve we should also command respect.

Touch me again with your speaking. The hectic crowded feeling of being: I would drink it all in. Brimming with things that swell, and make me flip over on myself: elation and jealousy and spasms of love.

Guilt is a powerful emotion, and I want to ask God to forgive you. Give Him your guilt and shame. There's nothing you've done that Jesus' shed blood on the cross doesn't cover. He loves you, Mom, and I love you too.

There was nothing passionate, nothing lustful, nothing desperate about that kiss, just the sweet and delicate feeling of comfort while having someone there. Someone to hold while being held. Someone who wanted you. Someone who needed you. Someone who looked at you through eyes without judgment, and who knew your past but did not define you by it. Who understood that you'd been through something horrible but did not reat you like you were made of glass.

Hancock: I was talking about Olive, my sweetheart. Sid : And a load of old rubbish it was too. Hancock: Oh well of course, I wouldn't expect you to understand. How could a man like you hope to understand the sensitive world of two children who discover the wonders of innocent love for the first time. Sid: 'Innocent love'. If I'd been your old man I'd have given you a thump round the earhole and kicked you up to bed. Hancock: I don't think I've such a crude man in my life.

Believe me, my parents are not going to wind up as a 'happily ever after." "Maybe not. But even if they don't, that doesn't mean it wasn't worth it for them. "How do you figure?" "Do you ever go back and reread books that you really love?" "Yes." This was probably so much of an understatement that it was actually a lie. "And you know what happens, right? Even in the tragedies. Look, Romeo and Juliet manage a double suicide, Beth dies and Laurie marries Amy, Rhett leaves Scarlett ..." "You read really girly books." He paused to roll his eyes at me. "I was trying to use examples you would know." "Sure." "The point is that we already know id doesn't work out, but we reread them anyway, because the good stuff that comes before the ending is worth it." This took me aback. It was a compelling argument- one I'd never considered. "Also!" Max shook his fingers as if giving a lecture. "In books, sometimes the foreshadowing is so obvious that you know what's going to happen. But knowing what happnes isn't the same as knowing how it happens. Getting there is the best part.

… The most important contribution you can make now is taking pride in your treasured home state. Because nobody else is. Study and cherish her history, even if you have to do it on your own time. I did. Don’t know what they’re teaching today, but when I was a kid, American history was the exact same every year: Christopher Columbus, Plymouth Rock, Pilgrims, Thomas Paine, John Hancock, Sons of Liberty, tea party. I’m thinking, ‘Okay, we have to start somewhere— we’ll get to Florida soon enough.’…Boston Massacre, Crispus Attucks, Paul Revere, the North Church, ‘Redcoats are coming,’ one if by land, two if by sea, three makes a crowd, and I’m sitting in a tiny desk, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. Hello! Did we order the wrong books? Were these supposed to go to Massachusetts?…Then things showed hope, moving south now: Washington crosses the Delaware, down through original colonies, Carolinas, Georgia. Finally! Here we go! Florida’s next! Wait. What’s this? No more pages in the book. School’s out? Then I had to wait all summer, and the first day back the next grade: Christopher Columbus, Plymouth Rock…Know who the first modern Floridians were? Seminoles! Only unconquered group in the country! These are your peeps, the rugged stock you come from. Not genetically descended, but bound by geographical experience like a subtropical Ellis Island. Because who’s really from Florida? Not the flamingos, or even the Seminoles for that matter. They arrived when the government began rounding up tribes, but the Seminoles said, ‘Naw, we prefer waterfront,’ and the white man chased them but got freaked out in the Everglades and let ’em have slot machines…I see you glancing over at the cupcakes and ice cream, so I’ll limit my remaining remarks to distilled wisdom: “Respect your parents. And respect them even more after you find out they were wrong about a bunch of stuff. Their love and hard work got you to the point where you could realize this. “Don’t make fun of people who are different. Unless they have more money and influence. Then you must. “If someone isn’t kind to animals, ignore anything they have to say. “Your best teachers are sacrificing their comfort to ensure yours; show gratitude. Your worst are jealous of your future; rub it in. “Don’t talk to strangers, don’t play with matches, don’t eat the yellow snow, don’t pull your uncle’s finger. “Skip down the street when you’re happy. It’s one of those carefree little things we lose as we get older. If you skip as an adult, people talk, but I don’t mind. “Don’t follow the leader. “Don’t try to be different—that will make you different. “Don’t try to be popular. If you’re already popular, you’ve peaked too soon. “Always walk away from a fight. Then ambush. “Read everything. Doubt everything. Appreciate everything. “When you’re feeling down, make a silly noise. “Go fly a kite—seriously. “Always say ‘thank you,’ don’t forget to floss, put the lime in the coconut. “Each new year of school, look for the kid nobody’s talking to— and talk to him. “Look forward to the wonderment of growing up, raising a family and driving by the gas station where the popular kids now work. “Cherish freedom of religion: Protect it from religion. “Remember that a smile is your umbrella. It’s also your sixteen-in-one reversible ratchet set. “ ‘I am rubber, you are glue’ carries no weight in a knife fight. “Hang on to your dreams with everything you’ve got. Because the best life is when your dreams come true. The second-best is when they don’t but you never stop chasing them. So never let the authority jade your youthful enthusiasm. Stay excited about dinosaurs, keep looking up at the stars, become an archaeologist, classical pianist, police officer or veterinarian. And, above all else, question everything I’ve just said. Now get out there, class of 2020, and take back our state!

It took him a mere instant to absorb that; he smiled, gently, at Cecily. “I’m afraid, Miss Hancock, that painters such as I don’t follow fashion.” His tone was cool, his drawl patronizingly light. He hesitated a heartbeat, holding her gaze, before adding, “We set it.

Sometimes the key to joy is falling out of love. I think I saw you in my dreams, my dear, and I learned a thing or two, I have a soulmate, he's there somewhere, but that soulmate isn't you.

Love Them Where They Are

I showed her the Mobb Deep song “Shook Ones Part II” in the first days or weeks when we got together. Now, all of a sudden, she was excited, showing me a video of some pool party where the crowd was puzzled when the DJ played a little childlike tune with very few notes and sounds. Until they recognized the sampled song being played with the original piano tune of Herbie Hancock underneath, called “Jessica”, she was acting like she was teaching me something or something I didn't know beforehand. She was acting like she was smarter than me, or as if I didn't know anything about music, hip hop, or rap. It was very odd. Who could have shown her that track, that video, and Herbie Hancock? I wondered. So, I played the next song myself - Bob Marley's “Forever Loving Jah”. Then, she played Jonathan Richmann's “Something about Mary”. So, I played the song “Jah is One” from Mosh Ben Ari and certain members of Shotei Hanevua to see her reaction to Israeli reggae music. So she played Notorious BIG and the Junior Mafia’s song: “Get money.” She was singing the chorus shaking her boot. Then I played Tupac Shakur's “Hit 'Em Up.” She played Notorious BIG’s song “Juicy.” So I played his song called “Somebody Gotta Die.” She then played the Moldy Peaches, „We are not those kids, sitting on the couch” So I played Mad Child's “Night Vision” to see if she knew it.

The lies are of a scale and of a nature that in modern political life I think you can only compare to Donald Trump. I don't think anybody has lied or can lie as casually and as cooly and as completely as Boris Johnson does - except Boris Johnson. We have learned over the last few weeks that his closest colleagues thought he was diabolical. The cabinet secretary that Boris Johnson appointed because he would prove to be, or he was believed to be, a soft touch has described Boris Johnson as being utterly unfit for the job. The advisor that he brought in as a sort of mastermind - having overseen Brexit - Dominick Cummings has described Johnson in terms that you would reserve for your worst enemies. These are the people working closest by him. The only person who's had anything vaguely warm to say about him is Matt Hancock and let me tell you why. They've shaken hands on it. I'd bet my house on some sort of gentleman's... let's rephrase that... I'd bet my house on some sort of charlatan’s agreement behind the scenes that they won't slag each other off because everybody else is telling the truth about them - about Johnson and about Hancock. Hancock's uselessness facilitated and enabled by Johnson's uselessness, by Johnson's moral corruption effectively. And now the lies begin. 5,000 WhatsApp messages. ‘No idea. No, no, no, no idea. Don't know. Don't know technical people. Uh... factory reset. Don't know. Bleep, bleep.’ And then the classic: the flooding of the Zone. With so much manure that it's hard to know where to start. ‘We may have made mistakes’ is one of the latest statements to come out. Turns up 3 hours early so that he doesn't have to walk the gamut of people congregating to remember their lost loved ones and to share their feelings with the man that they consider to be partly responsible for their death. Absolutely extraordinary scenes, truly extraordinary scenes. How does he get away with it? Hugo Keith is a much tougher inquisitor than Lindsay flipping Hoyle, the Speaker of the House of Commons. He's a much tougher inquisitor than any of the interviewers that Boris Johnson deigns to have his toes tickled by on a regular basis. He's a much tougher interviewer or scrutineer than the newspaper editors who have given him half a million pounds a year to write columns or already published articles about why he's the real victim in this story. Philip Johnston in the Daily Telegraph today writing an article before Boris Johnson has given a single syllable of evidence, claiming that Boris Johnson is the real victim of this. I'd love him to go and read that out to the Covid families assembled outside the inquiry. And remember it was Daily Telegraph columnists and former editors that convened at the Club with Jacob Rees-Mogg and others to launch the Save Owen Paterson Society after another one of these charlatans was found to have breached parliamentary standards. Their response of course was not to advise their ally to accept the punishment that was coming his way but to attempt to get him off the hook and rip up the rule book under which he'd been found to be guilty.

If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquillity of servitude than the animating contest of freedom--go from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains sit lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen!

I’ll take whatever they throw at me, but there was no way I wasn’t coming for you. If they can’t understand that, I can’t work for them.

course, I loved it”: Ibid. “It fairly well takes the position”: The New York Times, May 23, 1963. He came across the Atlantic: Author interview with Jacqueline Grobarek, October 2013. “if it had not been for”: Peter, Zyklus, unpaginated. “A mighty good American”: Newsletter, The Charles Hancock Reed Papers. “He lives through the Regiment”: Ibid. “He was a peaceful, kind person”: Author interview with Anne Stewart, October 2013. “It was 34 years”: Ibid. The international Lipizzaner registry: Current numbers of Lipizzaners comes from an email interview with Karin Mayrhofer, press spokeswoman for the Spanish Riding School, Vienna.

i can’t tell you exactly when i started to love myself, but one day i woke up and thought, you know, i really do deserve everything, and since then, that’s just how i’ve lived.

you see, from the very beginning i wanted to engrave myself into you, i wanted to embed my signature with melted gold and red lipstick, i wanted it to look pretty, but we were over so fast i had to scratch it into your chest with my hands.

the problem with being in love when you're 13 is that you have no clue how to love somebody without placing your entire self-worth on them. if they love you, you love you. if they leave, your self-esteem goes with with them.

Does Magna Carta mean nothing to you? Did she die in vain, that brave Hungarian peasant girl who forced King John to sign the pledge at Runnymede and closed all the boozers at half past ten? Is all this forgotten? No. My friends, it is not John Harrison Peabody who is on trial here today but the fair name of British justice. I ask you to send that poor boy back to the loving arms of his poor white-haired old mother... a free man. I thank you.

the problem with being in love when you’re 13 is that you have no clue how to love somebody without placing your entire self-worth on them. if they love you, you love you. if they leave, your self-esteem goes with them.

To work upon the world of created things and to magnify darkness or light, as we choose, to glorify good or evil, as we choose, to exalt love or hate, as we choose … The power is the gift but the choice is always ours.

No form of love is to be despised. (Eleanor Roosevelt)

Another scene from universal myth unfolds -- here powerfully reminiscent of the Underworld quests of Orpheus for Eurydice and of Demeter for Persephone. The ancient Japanese recension of this mysteriously global story is given in the Kojiki and the Nihongi, where we read that Izanagi, mourning for his dead wife, followed after her to the Land of Yomi in an attempt to bring her back to the world of the living: 'Izanagi-no-Mikoto went after Izanami-no-Mikoto and entered the Land of Yomi ... So when from the palace she raised the door and came out to meet him, Izanagi spoke saying; 'My lovely younger sister! The lands that I and thou made are not yet finished making; so come back!' Izanami is honoured by Izanagi's attention and minded to return. But there is one problem. She has already eaten food prepared in the Land of Yomi and this binds her to the place, just as the consumption of a single pomegranate seed binds Persephone to hell in the Greek myth. Is it an accident that ancient Indian myth also contains the same idea? In the Katha Upanishad a human, Nachiketas, succeeds in visiting the underworld realm of Yama, the Hindu god of Death (and, yes, scholars have noted and commented upon the weird resonance between the names and functions of Yama and Yomi). It is precisely to avoid detention in the realm of Yama that Nachiketas is warned: 'Three nights within Yama's mansion stay / But taste not, though a guest, his food.' So there's a common idea here -- in Japan, in Greece, in India -- about not eating food in the Underworld if you want to leave. Such similarities can result from common invention of the same motif -- in other words, coincidence. They can result from the influence of one of the ancient cultures upon the other two, i.e. cultural diffusion. Or they can result from an influence that has somehow percolated down to all three, and perhaps to other cultures, stemming from an as yet unidentified common source.

There is indeed compelling evidence of a series of massive glacial surges at the end of the last Ice Age. These correlate with meltwater pulses and peaks of sea-level rise, recorded, for example, in 'drowned' reefs of Acropora palmata from the Caribbean-Atlantic region near the island of Barbados. Acropora is an efficient tracker of rising sea-level because it is a light-loving coral that dies at depths greater than about 10 meters. The Barbados reefs were drowned three times at the end of the last Ice Age -- at approximately 14,000, 11,000 and 8000 years ago -- and so suddenly and deeply on each occasion that they now form three distinct steps, one for each flooding peak (rather than having crept towards shallower water as would have been the case with more gradual sea-level rises).

Most human characteristics that are genuinely universal are easily accounted for in evolutionary terms, and the arguments are widely known. For example, we all live in families and societies because to do so aids our survival and the propagation of our genes. We all have the capacity for love because it is an emotion that promotes family and social life. We all have laws of one kind or another because these, too, reinforce family and social ties and thus make us stronger and more competitive. We all eat food and drink water because we will soon die if we don't. We all use the unique human gift of language to preserve knowledge handed down from previous generations, and to create culture - thus further sharpening our competitive edge.

John Adams felt as little remorse for the fate of Samuel Quincy as Abigail did. “Let Us take Warning and give it to our Children. Whenever Vanity, and Gaiety, a Love of Pomp and Dress, Furniture, Equipage, Buildings, great Company, expensive Diversions, and elegant Entertainments get the better of the Principles and Judgments of Men or Women there is no knowing where they will stop, nor into what Evils, natural, moral, or political, they will lead us,” he lectured to Abigail.

Some days, the only thing that made sense was your hand in mine.

Every night, he would look up at the sky, wondering if she, too, was looking at the same star, and thinking of him.

I think of you in the spaces between breaths, where time doesn’t exist.

He wrote a love story in the stars, just for her, and the universe softly whispered it to her.

You exist in the gaps where my heart holds you closest.

I think of you when the world slows, when time stops and I’m left with just you.

When she was near, the world faded, leaving only her and the rhythm of their hearts.

I tried to catch her, but she was a shadow and I was the light.

With a smile, he said: 'The world fades when you’re near, And all that’s left Is the rhythm of your heartbeat Next to mine.

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His world was black and white until she painted it with her colors.

The world whispered, "You can't." but he shouted, "Watch me.

He found pieces of her In every song that played, In every book he read, In every star he saw, In every flower he picked.

He promised to meet her in a special place where the sky meets the stars, just for the two of them.

She generally spends most of the commute with her nose buried in a manuscript, but she always makes sure to poke her head up for the crossing. It’s the prettiest part of the trip, both now and at night on the way back, when the dark cityscape is illuminated by the weather beacon at the top of the Hancock Tower and the Citgo sign over Kenmore Square.