Hook Line And Sinker Quotes

You can’t live life worrying about what people will think. You’ll wake up one day, look at a calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy.

I could tell by the way you looked at her, she was something real special.” “How did I look at her?” He was afraid to find out. “Ah, son. Like a summer day showing up after a hundred years of winter.

No need to flatter me, Miss Price. I believe your bait worked. I’m hooked. Line and sinker.

Doesn’t feel like enough to say I love you at this point.” “Our love is always enough. It’s always more than enough.

Baited. Hook. Line. And. Mother-fucking. Sinker.

You make me feel like I’m in the exact right place.

Tanned, toned, curves in the right places and that small waist…lips, hair, eyes all packaged up like a siren. If she’s a siren, I heard her call, and I’m diving in hook, line, and sinker. - Drew Donovan

Do you ever get so happy, you can barely stand it?” “Yes.” “With you? All the time.

I've never even had you, and your body haunts mine.

Hannah had a playlist consisting of 308 love songs and not one of them could describe this moment accurately. Not even close.

I didn’t know what right felt like until you,” he choked out. “I’m holding on to the good you give me. I’m holding on to you.

If you’re laughing with them, they can’t laugh at you, right?

I’m far from immune to you.

They didn't call me the hook,line, and sinker man for no reason.

Just get off the bus somewhere safe and wait for me, all right? I fucking love you. I love you. And I'm sorry you fell in love with an idiot. I'm...Remember Seattle, you said we've been trying this whole time. Since last summer. To be in a relationship. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I do now. There was never going to be a life away from you, because, Jesus, that's no life at all. You, Hannah. Are my life. I love you and I'm coming home, so please, babe. Please. Will you just wait for me? I'm sorry.

Hannah, I can't answer what I don't know," he said through stiff lips. "What do you want me to say? Do I want to fuck you? Yes. Oh my god, I" -- his eyes closed briefly, those fisherman's hands flexing on the steering wheel-- "I want you underneath me so bad that I can't lie in bed without already feeling you there. I've never even had you, and your body haunts mine.

But knowing he could help, knowing he could do something to potentially make her happy? That was like holding the keys to a kingdom.

I had it bad for you. If the convention didn't make it obvious, I thought for sure the Fleetwood Mac album would do it. I've got it so bad for you, Hannah. Really, really bad. I tried to keep you out of here. But you won't go. You're never going to go. You just won't.

Jesus, Hannah," he whispered in a rough voice. "Do you ever get so happy, you can barely stand it?" "Yes." She reached up and cradled his jaw. "With you? All the time.

North looks over at me and I know that it’s game over for him. That’s the last puzzle piece in the mystery that is his Bond. Now he knows everything he ever needed to know about her. He’s done for; hook, line, and sinker. He belongs to her now, whether he’s admitting it to himself yet or not.

But you can't take the bad lessons you learned and apply them to every good thing that comes your way. Because there's nothing about what we have. It's really, really good. You're wonderful, and I love you. Okay, you stupid idiot? So when you've done some thinking and pulled your head out of your stubborn ass, come and find me. You're worth the wait.

There was never going to be a life away from you, because, Jesus, that's no life at all. You, Hannah. Are my life. I love you and I'm coming home, so please, babe. Please. Will you just wait for me? I'm sorry.

He'd never met anyone in his life that gave a shit as hard as Hannah. For other people.

You get this expression on your face when you listen to music, like you're trying to climb inside it. Right now, it looks like the door is locked and you can't get in.

Decades. A lifetime. I’m in.

Maybe, like the ocean, he could evolve.

You’re a surprise, Hannah. How could I hate them?” He cleared his throat hard. “Even familiar . . . you’re a constant surprise.

Hannah was the total opposite. When she decided to commit herself to someone or something, she went in one thousand percent. Loyalty to the people she cared about hummed in her blood. Loyalty made her Hannah.

Like a summer day showing up after a hundred years of winter.

You can't live life worrying about what other people will think.

Not everyone is fertile ground for fixing.

What is it that you love so much about them?" "The fact that someone thought about me, I guess. Wanted me to feel special. I bet you hate them, don't you?" "You're a surprise, Hannah. How could I hate them? Even familar...you're a constant surprise.

You can't live life worrying about what people will think. You'll wake up one day, look at a calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy. With her. And no one else, especially the ones wagging their tongues, are going to be there to console you

Oh, the odious wench. How I wish I were rid of her. I have always loathed women, from clew to earring; hook, line and sinker; root and branch. I always said this would happen, you remember; I was against it from the start. Damn it for a flibbertigibbet, the hussy.

Mmmm. I like that idea. W-we can find out who we’ll become together. Without everyone around all the t-time.” “Whoever we become together, Hannah,” “I’m yours and you’re mine. So it’s always going to be right.” “I didn’t know what right felt like until you,” he choked out. “I’m holding on to the good you give me. I’m holding on to you.” “I’m hanging on to you, too, Fox Thornton,” “Never letting go.” “I’m in for the good, bad, and everything in between, Hannah.” “Decades. A lifetime. I’m in.

I trust you’re going to treat my girl like an absolute queen from here on end.” Nathan’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Like a fairytale princess. When I first met her I told her she was as beautiful as a princess in a storybook.” “Oh, brother. And she actually fell for a dorky line like that?”“Hook, line and sinker.” A smile played about Nathan’s lips. “And I fell for her like a ton of bricks.

Paula,” Eleanor scolded through the barrier. “We’re in a church.” “The good Lord already knows my thoughts.

to save him from the middle of the ocean where he’d been existing without her for so long.

Fox, listen to me. I don’t care how many different beds you’ve been in. I know you belong in mine.

She was Eve in the Garden of Eden, and she'd just taken a bite from the apple.

on the verge of what felt like true adulthood, they’d both been scared. But they’d been scared together, honest with each other every step of the way, and they’d become a formidable team.

And as for Tanner . . .” She smiled. “I just saw him with you in there. The guy went all beast-mode to protect you. He might be pissed now, but that man is gone for you, sweetie. Hook, line, and sinker gone.

It's all a lie. I said to myself. Romance. This notion that some guy is going to swoop and fall madly in love with me and change my life and make everything perfect. It's one big, horrible lie and I bought it. Hook, line, and a ten thousand-pound sinker. Or I guess I should say it's a lie for a girl like me. For Skye, that's another story. The first time Dakota kissed me, down at the hot tub, I remember thinking, this is too good to be true. But if something feels too good to be true, maybe it's not true. Maybe the truth is that Skye deserves him. She'll always be the winner. And I, pathetically, will always be me.

An actual shiver blew through him thinking of Hannah on the deck, fifteen-story waves building in the background. “If you hear me screaming in the middle of the night, you’re to blame for my nightmares.” “I can just be in charge of the music on the boat.” “No.” “You got me feeling all romantic about the ocean. It’s your fault.

He turned and took a beer out of the fridge, uncapping it with his teeth.

But hell if he didn’t spend the whole night thinking about it.

You don’t miss her. He examined the churning in his chest. Well, that hadn’t worked.

Laugh with them, instead of being laughed at. Make the joke, instead of being the joke. And above all else, don’t let them see how much it all bothered him.

Maybe the crew would realize they were wrong about him after some time passed. After all, they were just following his lead, treating him like he asked them to.

I had it bad for you.

February 5 FOX (9:10 AM): It’s raining here. Give me something moody to listen to. HANNAH (9:12 AM): Hmm. The National. Start with “Fake Empire.

It's like I always say: A man doesn't bring a woman to Bingo unless he's serious about her.

The main-character moment?” “Yeah. You know, when you’ve got the perfect mood going, soundtrack to match. And you’re on a rainy road, feeling dramatic. You’re the star of your own movie. You’re Rocky training for the fight. Or Baby learning how to merengue in Dirty Dancing. Or you’re just crying over a lost love.” She turned slightly in the seat. “Everyone does it!

I knew, at that moment, I’d never been closer to someone than I was with her. To the world, she was my possession, but the sense of belonging I felt was different than ownership at that moment. I didn’t understand it, couldn’t explain it, but I figured some things didn’t need to be reasoned or defined. They just were. She was addictive, and she’d just reeled me in. Hook. Line. And sinker.

Hannah stepped into the house and immediately had to check her urge to find the person in charge of the playlist. If she let herself, she’d sit in the corner all night searching for the perfect next song

Home.’ By Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.” He barely kept his hand from lifting to brush back her hair. “I don’t know that one,” he managed. “I’ll text it to you before I go to sleep. It’s perfect.

When she straightened and her bare back landed flush against his heaving chest, she could only compare it to the breathless moment on a Ferris wheel when you hit the top the first time and the world spreads out in front of you, huge and wondrous.

Whether or not this was a valid theory, the fact was that Aïda swallowed it hook, line, and sinker and used it to inform her genetic strategy in the Great Game. And to the extent that the Four bothered to develop counterstrategies, they had to take it into account.

The realization had brought with it a sudden stark insight into another kind of glamour. It was quite a long time ago now, but he saw it quite clearly: how the media and the advertisers had created their own kind of glamour to seduce whole populations into a kind of insanity. Food that was bad for people, drink that turned them into mindless thugs, countless tons of useless rubbish, all dressed up by advertising glamour to appear like things people couldn't live without. And the human race had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker, becoming....[c]onsumers of limitless glamour, all of it ultimately worthless.

But you can't take the bad lessons you learned and apply them to every good thing that comes your way. Because there's nothing wrong about what we have. It's really, really good. You're wonderful, and I love you. Okay, you stupid idiot? So when you've done some thinking and pulled your head out of your stubborn ass, come and find me. You're worth the wait.

It’s no big deal,” he said quickly, backing up to lean sideways against the doorjamb. Crossing his arms. Definitely not thinking about how easy it would be to prowl over her on that bed, tease her a little more, run his fingertips along that section of skin between her hip bones and waist, flirt until kissing turned into her idea, instead of his intention all along. He knew the dance moves well.

While there was a part of me that acknowledged the idiocy and superficiality that surrounded me, I fell for the glamour: hook, line, and sinker. It took years for me to realize just how manipulated and used I had been. I could never admit that to myself at the time, because to do so would have been to acknowledge how dark and scary a situation I was in . . . and how very little in control I was.

The Jews became a victim of their own success. The more they restored the land and made it fertile, the more Muslims were attracted from nearby Muslim countries and flocked to Jewish-settled areas for jobs. These same poor Muslims who benefited from Jewish-created jobs later charged that the Jews had stolen land that had been in their families since time immemorial. This remains one of the most colossal lies of history. Yet the West has swallowed the lie hook, line, and sinker. This lie will eventually lead to Armageddon.

Dr. Jaak Panksepp told me. “If you don’t recognize that the brain creates psychological responses, then neuroscience becomes a highly impoverished discipline. And that’s where the battle is right now. Many neuroscientists believe that mental states are irrelevant for what the brain does. This is a Galileo-type battle, and it will not be won very easily because you have generations and generations of scholars, even in psychology, who have swallowed hook, line, and sinker the notion—the Skinnerian notion—that mentality is irrelevant in the control of behavior.”3 Dr.

And I wanted to be different, so I asked for harmonica lessons.” She tilted her head back, found his eyes in the dark. “Word to the wise, don’t ever learn the harmonica while you have braces.” “Hannah. Oh God. No.” His head fell back briefly, a laugh puffing out of him. “What happened?” “Our parents were in the Mediterranean, so we walked to our neighbor’s house and they were in France—” “Ah, yes. Typical neighborhood problems.” She snorted. “So their landscaper offered to drive me and Piper—who had actually peed her pants laughing—in the back of his truck.” She could barely keep her voice even, the need to giggle was so great. “We were driven to the closest hospital in the back of a pickup truck while the harmonica was stuck to my face. Every time I exhaled, the harmonica would play a few notes. People were honking . . .” His whole body was shaking with laughter, and Hannah could tell he’d finally, fully relaxed. The sexual tension didn’t leave completely, but he’d shelved it for now. “What did they say at the hospital?” “They asked if I was taking requests.

Jack must have looked confused, and Sienna leaned closer to him as she explained. Her perfume was sharp and floral, and he took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh fragrance after a day on the road smelling dust and tar. “When we were in high school, Uncle Renzo brought us down here to the pier at Monterey for a birthday dinner, and he spun Georgie a story about his grandmother going to sleep at the table when he was a little boy, and drowning in her chowder.” Jack grinned as Sienna continued the story. “He had her sucked in, hook line and sinker, for the whole night until she started to cry, and then he took pity on her.” Sienna smiled as she looked at Jack. Her long, delicate neck arched gracefully as her head turned slowly from side to side, and Jack got another whiff of her perfume. Her eyes were hooded and Jack sensed she was waiting for something.

If the girl next door had an unpredictable, feisty twin sister, this woman would be her. With her adorably stubborn frown and quiet, kitten gaze still mulishly refusing to look directly at him again, she was drawing him in—hook, line, and sinker.

Why the hell did she have to look like a centerfold piece for Maxim magazine? Who was she trying to impress? She already had him: hook, line, and sinker.

Maybe I should let them go. But I love them. Isn’t that a trip? I came here wanting their uncle to take them, then I went and fell in love with them.” “And him.” Meridith shot a glare at Rita. “Well, you did, honey. Denial won’t change it.” But it wasn’t real. Maybe her feelings were, but his weren’t. He only wanted the children. All this time that she’d thought their uncle was irresponsible and incompetent, he was working a plan to get the kids. “He used me.” Saying the words cut her to the core. “Do you know how that feels? I believed he cared for me; fell for it hook, line, and sinker. How lame can I be?” Rita set her hand on Meridith’s arm. “Maybe he really does love you.” The memories surfaced, unbidden. The feel of his palm cupping her cheek, the sweet taste of his mouth, the sound of her name on his lips. But just as quickly, caution shut down the thoughts. Love was unsafe. It was unpredictable and cruel. She’d known it when she’d come here, but somehow the magic of the island lured her, made her forget. Jake made her forget. “If only I’d realized who he was. If I’d known, it would’ve changed everything.” “Maybe you should hear him out,” Rita said. She shook her head. “No. I’m done with that. Done with Jake, done with love.

How do these online distraction systems work? They start with an external trigger or notification. You may visit a Website or sign up for a service. They will then send you an email, follow you on the Internet with ads, or send you a push notification with very specific language that has been tested to get you to click on it. You click on the link and your attachment or connection to that distraction system gets a little bit stronger. You, unintentionally, provide that system with more information when you read an article, add a friend, or comment on a photo. Without realizing it, and behind the scenes, the machinery of distraction is starting to turn. On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being completely attached, you are a 2 at this point. These companies know that you don’t really care about the company itself, but you do care about your friends, family, and co-workers. They leverage these relationships by showing your profile to these contacts. These people are then asked to add you as a contact, friend, or to comment on your photo. Guess what this does? It brings you back to the site and increases the attachment. Think about this just for a second. If a company wants me to come back to their site, then they have a much higher chance of getting me back if they tell me my nephew added me as a friend, or posted a new pic. I care about my nephew. I don’t care about the company. This happens a few times and the attachment goes from a 2 to a 5. Soon, you have more and more connections on the site. Many of these sites have a magic number. Once you cross that threshold they know they really have you. Let’s say it is 10 connections. Once you have 10 connections they know with a level of statistical certainty that they can get you coming back to the site several times a week. Your attachment then goes from a 5 to a 7. All this time they are still pinging you via email, ads or push notifications to get you back to the site. The prompts or triggers to get you back are all external. You may be experiencing uncomfortable emotions like anxiety, sadness, or boredom, but you are not yet feeling these as triggers to go to the site and escape these feelings. Instead, what happens gradually, is that the trigger moves from being external like an email prompt and moves internal. Soon, they do not have to remind you or leverage your relationships to go back to the site. You are now doing it on your own. You are checking it regularly on your own. Your attachment has moved from a 7 to an 8. They’ve got you now, but they don’t completely have you. The tendrils are not yet deep into your brain and that is really where they want to go. They want to get as wrapped around your brain as possible, because the deeper they are - the more unconscious this behavior of checking the site - the more time you spend on the site and the more money they make. When you start living your life, not for what you are actually experiencing at the moment, but instead for how you imagine it will look to other people on these sites, then they really have you. When the experience itself is less meaningful than the image of you on the site and the number of likes it gets, then they are getting really deep. They have moved the center of your self from your actual life and transferred it to the perception of your life on their site. You now mostly live for reactions from other people on these company’s sites. By this time, you are likely refreshing the page, habitually looking at your phone, and wondering why your pic or video has not received more comments or likes. By this time you are fully hooked, as my good friend Nir Eyal would say, and your attachment has gone from an 8 to a full 10. They’ve got you hook, line, and sinker. Scary

While there was a part of me that acknowledged the idiocy and superficiality that surrounded me, I fell for the glamour: hook, line, and sinker.

When an idea comes into my mind from someone, I reason with it. I do not just swallow it hook, line and sinker. I question, ‘Will it help me get to a better place with a family member?’ If it doesn’t, I reject the idea.

Did I bite, hook, line, and sinker, or did you?” “Maybe we both did, Gabriella. Maybe we’re both stupid fish, fighting for the same hook.

The salesman kept jabbering. Matt tuned him out, but Olivia gave the man her full attention. She asked a question or two, just out of formality, but the salesman knew that this one was not only hooked, lined, and sinkered but fried up and halfway down the gullet.

Every eight years, the people swallow some politician hook, line, and sinker and make him president. They hold him on the political stomach for about six years. Then they commence to get indigestion because the politicians quit pouring the soda bicarbonate of publicity into their stomachs. At the end of eight years, they vomit him up in order to swallow someone else,

The next few weeks were incredible. I didn’t just fall in love with Xander, I fell head over heels, hook, line and sinker, harder than a slab of granite, and like a star that everyone wanted to wish on.

Although we tend to believe that happiness exists as some sort of side benefit to having successfully mastered all the particulars of our lives, nothing could be further from the truth. Call it the biggest lie of all time, which we’ve bought hook, line, and sinker. We’re not unhappy because we don’t have enough of what we think that we want. We are unhappy because we are resisting what is so in our lives and are frantically caught up in trying to fix something that we perceive to be broken. That’s an awful lot of pressure.

And I bought into it—hook, line, and sinker.

How I Was Ripped Off I have to admit, at the time, I was little down after this happened. One day while reading LinkedIn I saw an ad offering ‘free’ training. I attended. The huckster told me his program would get me hired. I fell for it, hook line and sinker. After spending around $400 twice, I learned what its like to work with someone who has no morals. He made a lot of promises and kept about 10% of them. He attempted to portray himself as a career expert and was anything but. He gave us emails for 1500 new LinkedIn connections. He never took the time to explain why the connections were valuable. I couldn’t help wondering whether these 1500 people paid him to give us their emails. The clincher came when we were told we could listen to presentations from 10 experts. Interestingly enough, we were told to hold our questions until the end. When the end came, there was hardly any time for questions. Desiring to follow up with one of the speakers, I contacted him directly. I told him I wanted to follow up after today’s presentation. The speaker said he hadn’t made a presentation today. It was then that I realized, we had been watching a recording of an earlier presentation, and we would never be able to ask questions.

What the fuck just happened? As Bryce’s white Audi streaked off the lot, I shook my head and replayed the last five minutes. After a hot cup of coffee with Dad in the office, I’d come out to the garage, ready to get to work on the red ’68 Mustang GT I’d been restoring. My morning had been shaping up pretty damn great when a hot, leggy brunette with a nice rack came in for an oil change. Got even better when she flirted back and flashed me that showstopper smile. Then I hit the jackpot because she turned out to be witty too, and the heat between us was practically blue flame. I should have known something was up. Women too good to be true were always out for trouble. This one was only baiting me for a story. And damn, I’d taken that bait. Hook, line and sinker. How the hell had Bryce known Dad was going to be arrested for murder even before the cops had shown up? Better question. How the hell hadn’t I? Because I was out of touch. Not long ago, when the club was still going strong, I would have been the first to know if the cops were moving in my or my family’s direction. Sure, living on the right side of the law had its advantages. Mostly, it was nice to live a life without the gnawing, constant fear I’d wake up and be either killed or sent to prison for the rest of my life. I’d become content. Lazy. Ignorant. I’d let my guard down. And now Dad was headed for a jail cell. Fuck. “Dash.” Presley punched me in the arm, getting my attention. I shook myself and looked down at her, squinting as her white hair reflected the sunlight. “What?” “What?” she mimicked. “What are you going to do about your dad? Did you know about this?” “Yeah. I let him go about drinking his morning coffee, bullshitting with you, knowing he’d get arrested soon,” I barked. “No, I didn’t know about this.” Presley scowled but stayed quiet. “She said murder.” Emmett swept a long strand of hair out of his face. “Did I hear that right?” Yeah. “She said murder.” Murder, spoken in Bryce’s sultry voice I’d thought was so smooth when it had first hit my ears. Dad had been arrested and I’d been bested by a goddamn nosy reporter. My lip curled. I avoided the press nearly as much as I avoided cops and lawyers. Until we got this shit figured out, I’d be stuck dealing with all three.

Just get off the bus somewhere and wait for me, all right? I fucking love you. I love you. And I'm sorry you fell in love with an idiot.

Could Sergei tell just by looking at her? That she had plans that included gingery massage oil?

Just like this.

No the fuck you won’t.

there were “instigators” of some kind when the Capitol was being stormed. People breaking windows even when others told them to stop, people with megaphones shouting “MEN! Line up behind me!” ... I witnessed that stuff myself, that stuff was real, and I’d like to get to the bottom of it. But when the MAGA people heard one rumor they liked, they became so desperate for it to be true that they swallowed it, hook, line and sinker. “There’s the scapegoat!” They shouted. “I knew it was someone else’s fault, I just knew it! And now I have proof.” Their insistence on seeing fake BLM instigators everywhere makes it a lot harder for me to find out who the real instigators were, BLM or otherwise. Their compulsion to instantly believe the things that comfort them makes it very, very difficult to sort through their beliefs and figure out what’s real and what isn’t ... which I guess puts them about even with all the other Americans I meet these days. Such times I live in, eh?

You can't live life worrying about what people will think. You'll wake up one day, look at a calendar, and count the days you could have spent being happy.

hook, line, and sinker.

This feeling of irritability and alienation meant I was malleable. Have you ever tried to argue with someone who doesn’t want anything from you? It’s hard. Have you ever noticed in a row with someone that no longer loves you that you have no recourse? No tools with which to bargain. If you stroll up to a stranger and tell them that unless they comply with your demands they’ll never see you again, it’s unlikely that they’ll fling themselves at your feet and beg you not to go. They’ll just wander off. When people are content, they are difficult to maneuver. We are perennially discontent and offered placebos as remedies. My intention in writing this book is to make you feel better, to offer you a solution to the way you feel. I am confident that this is necessary. When do you ever meet people that are happy? Genuinely happy? Only children, the mentally ill, and daytime television presenters. My belief is that it is possible to feel happier, because I feel better than I used to. I am beginning to understand where the solution lies, primarily because of an exhausting process of trial and mostly error. My qualification to write a book on how to change yourself and change the world is not that I’m better than you, it’s that I’m worse. Not that I’m smarter, but that I’m dumber: I bought the lie hook, line, and sinker. My only quality has been an unwitting momentum, a willingness to wade through the static dissatisfaction that has been piped into my mind from the moment I learned language. What if that feeling of inadequacy, isolation, and anxiety isn’t just me? What if it isn’t internally engineered but the result of concerted effort, the product of a transmission? An ongoing broadcast from the powerful that has colonized my mind? Who is it in here, inside your mind, reading these words, feeling that fear? Is there an awareness, an exempt presence, gleaming behind the waterfall of words that commentate on every event, label every object, judge everyone you come into contact with? And is there another way to feel? Is it possible to be in this world and feel another way? Can you conceive, even for a moment, of a species similar to us but a little more evolved, that have transcended the idea that solutions to the way we feel can be externally acquired? What would that look like? How would that feel—to be liberated from the bureaucracy of managing your recalcitrant mind. Is it possible that there is a conspiracy to make us feel this way? If we were cops right now, we’d look for a motive. If our peace of mind, our God-given right to live in harmony with our environment and one another, has been murdered, who are the prime suspects? Well, who has a motive?

I want you underneath me so bad that I can’t lie in bed without already feeling you there. I’ve never even had you, and your body haunts mine.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Scott’s story had been bought hook, line, and sinker by a vast army of morally vehement unknowns, most of whom liked to use half a dozen emojis. Their not knowing Scott clearly didn’t matter to them. Their not knowing Harriet definitely didn’t matter to them.

In the six months that she'd been gone, he'd noticed the sunrise more. He'd started paying attention to strangers, their actions. Listening to music. Even his job seemed to have more gravity to it. Hannah did that somehow. Made him look around and consider.

An intuition rippled in her fingertips until she had to grasp them together in her lap, and as more and more lyrics about a fisherman's growing dedication to his family passed Fox's lips, his image began to blur. But she couldn't blink to rid herself of the moisture, could only let it pool there, as if any movement might swipe the melody from the air rob her of the growing burn in the center of her chest.

He loved her humor, her tenacity and bravery, the way she defended the people she loved like a soldier in battle. He loved the fact that she didn't shy away from the tough subjects, even though they scared him in the moment. Her iron will, the way she closed her eyes and mouthed song lyrics like they were baptizing her. Her face, her body, her scent. She'd infiltrated him, become a part of him before he'd realized what was happening, and now...

I don't know what trying looks like for us. I just know that I want to.' 'Oh, Fox'... 'We've been trying this whole time.

How did I look at her?'... 'Ah, son. Like a summer day showing up after a hundred years of winter.

Fox “ you make me feel like I’m the exact right place… nothing to run or hide from. Nothing I want to avoid.” Hannah “ it’s OK to trust that feeling. I have it, too.

Fox “ what happened to you giving me time to pull my head out of my ass?” Hannah “six hours seamed like more than enough

Ви не можете прожити життя, турбуючись про те, що подумають люди

One such “mild attack” was a translation change in the Bible that largely went unnoticed by most people, yet many, including certain scholars, fell “hook, line, and sinker” for it. When the word “dragon” was changed to “jackals” (or something else other than dragons), precious few comments were given for the change. That is, this change was done with little defense or rebuttal against it!

You're so damn beautiful, Hannah." Her amusement died down. "Happiness does that to a person.