I Love You Hon Quotes

Off To The Races" My old man is a bad man but I can't deny the way he holds my hand And he grabs me, he has me by my heart He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past He doesn't mind I have an LA crass way about me He loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart Swimming pool glimmering darling White bikini off with my red nail polish Watch me in the swimming pool bright blue ripples you Sitting sipping on your black Cristal Oh yeah Light of my life, fire of my loins Be a good baby, do what I want Light of my life, fire of my loins Give me them gold coins, gimme them coins And I'm off to the races, cases of Bacardi chasers Chasing me all over town Cause he knows I'm wasted, facing Time again at Riker's Island and I won't get out Because I'm crazy, baby I need you to come here and save me I'm your little scarlet, starlet singing in the garden Kiss me on my open mouth Ready for you My old man is a tough man but He's got a soul as sweet as blood red jam And he shows me, he knows me Every inch of my tar black soul He doesn't mind I have a flat broke down life In fact he says he thinks it's why he might like about me Admires me, the way I roll like a Rolling Stone Likes to watch me in the glass room bathroom, Chateau Marmont Slippin' on my red dress, puttin' on my makeup Glass film, perfume, cognac, lilac Fumes, says it feels like heaven to him Light of his life, fire of his loins Keep me forever, tell me you own me Light of your life, fire of your loins Tell me you own me, gimme them coins And I'm off to the races, cases of Bacardi chasers Chasing me all over town Cause he knows I'm wasted, facing Time again at Riker's Island and I won't get out Because I'm crazy, baby I need you to come here and save me I'm your little scarlet, starlet singing in the garden Kiss me on my open mouth Now I'm off to the races, laces Leather on my waist is tight and I am fallin' down I can see your face is shameless, Cipriani's basement Love you but I'm going down God I'm so crazy, baby, I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island Raising hell all over town Sorry 'bout it My old man is a thief and I'm gonna stay and pray with him 'til the end But I trust in the decision of the Lord to watch over us Take him when he may, if he may I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him Who else is gonna put up with me this way? I need you, I breathe you, I never leave you They would rue the day I was alone without you You're lying with your gold chain on, cigar hanging from your lips I said "Hon' you never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man." And we're off to the races, places Ready, set the gate is down and now we're goin' in To Las Vegas chaos, Casino Oasis, honey it is time to spin Boy you're so crazy, baby, I love you forever not maybe You are my one true love, you are my one true love You are my one true love

I have to tell you hon, I don't mind a little teasing now and then, but I'm no masochist and I'm sure as hell no saint...here lately, being around you is agony.

I get a message from my dad. In the mood I'm in, I tear up to see his name in my inbox, and imagine him down the hall in bed, propped on pillows, emailing me. "Hon, Enjoyed our gelato date the other night. I just want to say I'm proud of you for a lot of reasons. Also, I've attached a picture of my foot." He's such a weirdo goofball. I love him.

I think I'm allergic or something. I feel kinda strange... sort of floaty and light-headed." "You ain't sick, hon," Mom said. She kissed me cheek and hugged me so tight I thought I might break a rib. "That's joy.

I have to tell you, hon, I don't mind a little teasing now and then, but I'm no masochist, and I'm sure as hell no saint...and here lately, being around you is agonly.

I get it, hon. I know you need to be strong enough to handle your own shit. I’m not saying you’re not. I’m not trying to boss you around. I’m not trying to take your strength away from you. I’m trying to add mine to it. That’s what love is, right? That’s what family is.

She was especially taken with Matt. Until he said, “It’s time to fess up, hon. Tell Trace how much you care. You’ll feel better when you do.” Climbing up the ladder, Chris said, “Better sooner than later.” He nodded at the hillside behind them. “Because here comes Trace, and he doesn’t look happy.” Both Priss and Matt turned, Priss with anticipation, Matt with tempered dread. Dressed in jeans and a snowy-white T-shirt, Trace stalked down the hill. Priss shielded her eyes to better see him. When he’d left, being so guarded about his mission, she’d half wondered if he’d return before dinner. Trace wore reflective sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but his entire demeanor—heavy stride, rigid shoulders, tight jaw—bespoke annoyance. As soon as he was close enough, Priss called out, “What’s wrong?” Without answering her, Trace continued onto the dock. He didn’t stop until he stood right in front of . . . Matt. Backing up to the edge of the dock, Matt said, “Uh . . . Hello?” Trace didn’t say a thing; he just pushed Matt into the water. Arms and legs flailing out, Matt hit the surface with a cannonball effect. Stunned, Priss shoved his shoulder. “What the hell, Trace! Why did you do that?” Trace took off his sunglasses and looked at her, all of her, from her hair to her body and down to her bare toes. After working his jaw a second, he said, “If you need sunscreen, ask me.” Her mouth fell open. Of all the nerve! He left her at Dare’s, took off without telling her a damn thing and then had the audacity to complain when a friend tried to keep her from getting sunburned. “Maybe I would have, if you’d been here!” “I’m here now.” Emotions bubbled over. “So you are.” With a slow smile, Priss put both hands on his chest. The shirt was damp with sweat, the cotton so soft that she could feel every muscle beneath. “And you look a little . . . heated.” Trace’s beautiful eyes darkened, and he reached for her. “A dip will cool you down.” Priss shoved him as hard as she could. Taken by surprise, fully dressed, Trace went floundering backward off the end of the dock. Priss caught a glimpse of the priceless expression of disbelief on Trace’s face before he went under the water. Excited by the activity, the dogs leaped in after him. Liger roused himself enough to move out of the line of splashing. Chris climbed up the ladder. “So that’s the new game, huh?” He laughed as he scooped Priss up into his arms. “Chris!” She made a grab for his shoulders. “Put me down!” “Afraid not, doll.” Just as Trace resurfaced, Chris jumped in with her. They landed between the swimming dogs. Sputtering, her hair in her face and her skin chilled from the shock of the cold water, Priss cursed. Trace had already waded toward the shallower water off the side of the dock. His fair hair was flattened to his head and his T-shirt stuck to his body. “Wait!” Priss shouted at him. He was still waist-deep as he turned to glare at her. Kicking and splashing, Priss doggy-paddled over to him, grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Oh, no, you don’t!” Startled, Trace scooped her bottom in his hands and struggled for balance on the squishy mud bottom of the lake. “What the hell?” And then lower, “You look naked in this damn suit.” Matt and Chris found that hilarious. Priss looked at Trace’s handsome face, a face she loved, and kissed him. Hard. For only a second, he allowed the sensual assault. He even kissed her back. Then he levered away from her. “You ruined my clothes, damn it.” “Only because you were being a jealous jerk.” His expression dark, he glared toward Matt. Christ started humming, but poor Matt said, “Yeah,” and shrugged. “If you think about it, you’ll agree that you sort of were—and we both know there’s no reason.

I need to check your vitals, hon,” she explained. It had been several hours since I’d given birth. I guess this was the routine. She felt my pulse, palpated my legs, asked if I had pain anywhere, and lightly pressed on my abdomen, the whole while making sure I wasn’t showing signs of a blockage or a blood clot, a fever or a hemorrhage. I stared dreamily at Marlboro Man, who gave me a wink or two. I hoped he would, in time, be able to see past the vomit. The nurse then began a battery of questions. “So, no pain?” “Nope. I feel fine now.” “No chills?” “Not at all.” “Have you been able to pass gas in the past few hours?” *Insert awkward ten-second pause* I couldn’t have heard her right. “What?” I asked, staring at her. “Have you been able to pass gas lightly?” *Another awkward pause* What kind of question is this? “Wait…,” I asked. “What?” “Sweetie, have you been able to pass gas today?” I stared at her blankly. “I don’t…” “…Pass gas? You? Today?” She was unrelenting. I continued my blank, desperate stare, completely incapable of registering her question. Throughout the entire course of my pregnancy, I’d gone to great lengths to maintain a certain level of glamour and vanity. Even during labor, I’d attempted to remain the ever-fresh and vibrant new wife, going so far as to reapply tinted lip balm before the epidural so I wouldn’t look pale. I’d also restrained myself during the pushing stage, afraid I’d lose control of my bowels, which would have been the kiss of death upon my pride and my marriage; I would have had to just divorce my husband and start fresh with someone else. I had never once so much as passed gas in front of Marlboro Man. As far as he was concerned, my body lacked this function altogether. So why was I being forced to answer these questions now? I hadn’t done anything wrong. “I’m sorry…,” I stammered. “I don’t understand the question…” The nurse began again, seemingly unconcerned with my lack of comprehension skills. “Have you…” Marlboro Man, lovingly holding our baby and patiently listening all this time from across the room, couldn’t take it anymore. “Honey! She wants to know if you’ve been able to fart today!” The nurse giggled. “Okay, well maybe that’s a little more clear.” I pulled the covers over my head. I was not having this discussion.

Very slowly, he leaned toward her. He took her face between his hands. His lips were gentle, but his kiss was firm--she melted beneath it as he pressed her tight against his chest. His lips traced a shivery path to her neck and lingered at the base of her throat. His hands slid to her shoulders and down her body, an embrace both relentless and tender--burning where it touched, but never forcing, never intrusive. He whispered to her in his secret language…their lips locked in a kiss… “Miranda?” Aunt Teeta called softly. Miranda’s cry was instantly muffled beneath Etienne’s lips. Shocked, she stared at him, even as he pulled away from her, snapped off the light, and slipped out of sight beneath the covers. After a second’s hesitation, Miranda slid in beside him and yanked the bedspread up to her chin. “What?” she called back, with what she hoped was convincing grogginess. Aunt Teeta opened the door, her bathrobe askew, her hair disheveled, and several oversize curlers bobbing on top of her head. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you’d be asleep yet. You know, I was just thinking--since you and Etienne have been spending so much time together, why don’t you invite him over sometime? So your mama can meet him? And ask Gage over, too--he’s such a cutie.” Miranda yawned loudly. “That’s a great idea, Aunt Teeta. Thanks a lot.” “All right now, hon, you go on back to sleep. Love you.” “Love you, too.” Miranda waited till the door closed. Till Aunt Teeta’s footsteps faded down the stairs, till the house was silent once more. She waited a long time. At last the covers moved, and Etienne, after a thorough look around, threw them back and sat up. He seemed immensely amused. “Damn, that was close. Your aunt, she woulda skinned me alive if she’d caught me here.

Not long ago, I saw a woman in a drugstore pick something up in her hand, delighted, and hold it out toward her husband. It was just a perfume bottle, but the shape of it was lovely. “See this, hon?” she said. And the man said, “Yeah,” but he had his back to her and was walking down the aisle away from her. The woman put the thing back, diminished. Do you know what I mean, Martin? I think this comes from mistakes so many women make early on in a marriage. When we got engaged, I stopped driving my own car. I rode shotgun every time we were together. The default settings on the mirrors, on the closeness of the seat to the wheel, they were yours. Remember when that car caught on fire, the engine? Maybe it was auto grief. Don’t think I’m crazy, Martin. I have only gotten out my shovel, to dig a bit. I’m just pointing out what I uncover. You can look or not. I want the difference to be that I don’t put the thing back on the shelf because you say it’s not worth seeing.

Dear Jesus, I know I am a sinner. I have sinned against You and other people, and I am sorry for my sins and repent of them. I ask for and receive Your forgiveness today. Jesus, I invite You to be the Lord and Savior of my life, and I believe in my heart You died for the penalty of my sin on the cross and after three days were raised from the dead and are now seated in Heaven. Lord, I ask You to send Your Holy Spirit to fill me to overflowing even now and to melt me, mold me, and shape me into the person You want me to be. In Jesus’s name I pray. Amen. If you just prayed that pray and meant it, it is settled. You are now a child of God and are in covenant with Him. This is the absolute most important decision you will ever make, and whether you felt anything or not, you are now “reborn,” as Jesus said in John 3. This is just the start of a new and exciting life. To help you along that journey, here is a list of things you should do as soon as possible:          1.   Find a church that teaches the Word of God and get involved.          2.   Fellowship with mature believers who can help you to grow in your newfound faith.          3.   Get water baptized and tell others what you have done.          4.   Start reading the Bible daily and praying to God as you would talk to your best friend, knowing that He loves you.          5.   Make the daily choice to live for God and hon-or Him through your obedience to Him and love for others.

Molly, I need you to answer me, hon.” She swallowed. One more moment of silence and Bailey would bust in . . . and get shot in the process. “I’ll be careful. I’m just . . . I’m sleepy. Don’t worry about me.” “I’ll go, but some good news first. Michael’s saddlebags were as loaded down as a Wells Fargo coach. That must be the money Russell stole. Your pa will be happy.” The pistol was lying on the floor now, although still in his grip. It was an odd-shaped gun. Her head cocked. “And finding the gun will clear Anne of murdering Mr. Nimenko,” she said. “What?” “The strange gun. The missing foreign gun of Mr. Nimenko.” Michael’s head bolted upright. He lifted the gun and pointed it at her again. “If you find it, I mean. If you find Mr. Nimenko’s gun, then everyone will know that Anne is innocent.” Silence. “I’ve got to go,” Bailey said. “I’d better join the others.” His fingers tapped against the door. “I love you.” Molly froze, unable to answer. Michael’s eyes turned into mean slits. “Answer him,” he mouthed, “now.” She looked away and tried to forget the murderous weapon pointed in her direction. One slide of Michael’s slippery gloves and she was dead. She might never have another opportunity. “I love you, too, Bailey.” The tapping stilled. “Good night, Molly.” And he was gone. —

Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come, and the years draw near when you say, “I have no pleasure in them.” —Ecclesiastes 12:1 (NKJV) I was making rounds at the veterans hospital where I work, when an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair pointed his cane to a sign on a bulletin board. “Look, hon,” he said to his wife, “they’re having an old-fashioned Easter egg hunt on Saturday. It says here that the kids can compete in a bunny-hop sack race for prizes.” He barely came up for air. “Remember when we used to have those Easter egg hunts on our farm? The kids would color eggs at our kitchen table and get dye all over everything.” Just then, his wife noticed the smell of popcorn in the air. Volunteers sell it for a bargain price—fifty cents a sack. The veteran didn’t miss a beat. “Remember when we used to have movie night and you would pop corn? We’ve got to start doing that again, hon. I love popcorn. Movies too.” As I took in this amazingly joyful man, I thought of things I used to be able to do before neurofibromatosis took over my body. It was nothing to run a couple of miles; I walked everywhere. Instead of rejoicing in the past, I too often complain about my restrictions. Rather than marvel how I always used to walk downtown, shopping, I complain about having to use a handicap placard on my car so I can park close to the mall, which I complain about as well. But today, with all my heart, I want to be like that veteran and remember my yesterdays with joy. Help me, dear Lord, to recall the past with pleasure. —Roberta Messner Digging Deeper: Eph 4:29; Phil 2:14

For what it’s worth,” he murmured, his lips moving on her skin, “I love you enough, hon.

I tell ya what, hon. People are the fun- house mirrors of your life. Some make you tall, some make you wide. Some make you see double or twist you into somethin’ you can’t recognize. Not even that one regular mirror will show your true self. The thing is, all of them images are your true self.