Julia Roberts Quotes

You know it's love when all you want is that person to be happy, even if you're not part of their happiness.

I would rather have 30 minutes of "wonderful" than a lifetime of nothing special.

I believe that two people are connected at the heart, and it doesn't matter what you do, or who you are or where you live; there are no boundaries or barriers if two people are destined to be together.

I do not need to love you to prove that I love myself!!

Jennifer to Beth: Ech. I don't like Tom Cruise. Beth to Jennifer: Me neither. But I usually like Tom Cruise movies. Jennifer to Beth: Me too... Huh, maybe I do like Tom Cruise. But I hate feeling pressured to find him attractive. I don't. Beth to Jennifer: Nobody does. It's a lie perpetuated by the American media. Tom Cruise and Julia Roberts. Jennifer to Beth: Men don't like Julia Roberts? Beth to Jennifer: Nope. Her teeth scare them. Jennifer to Beth: Good to know.

It's funny when people say, 'I don't think Julia likes me.' Honey, if I don't like you, you're going to know about it.

Eve rose stiffly when he strode out of the house. In silence, she watched Julia look after him. "The male ego," Eve murmured as she crossed the room to put an arm around Julia's shoulders. "It's a huge and fragile thing. I always envision it as an enormous penis made of thin glass.

People are going to think I'm morbid, loving all these sad books. I actually don't mind a happy ending in a novel—certainly, it's nice when it happens. But when you've invested so much time and your fingers have pushed through all that paper and you get to the end…well, a tragic ending kind of goes with the tragedy of finishing a book.

I wish i were a little girl again, because skinned knees are easier to fix than broken heart.

I just want to make a point that it's not just great teachers that sometimes shape your life. Sometimes it's the absence of great teachers that shapes your life and being ignored can be just as good for a person as being lauded.

Have you ever seen The Goodbye Girl? Don’t watch it if you still want to enjoy romantic comedies. It makes every movie ever made starring Julia Roberts or Sandra Bullock lash itself in shame.

Is this how Julia Roberts' character feels like in Pretty Woman? Two parts princess, one part whore?

The state calls Paul Winthrop to the stand." ... Paul answered the opening questions briefly, weighing his words, his eyes on Julia's. "Would you tell the court the nature of your relationship with Miss Summers?" "I'm in love with Miss Summers." The faintest of smiles touched his lips. "Completely in love with Miss Summers.

I noticed how utterly indifferent the passengers were to what they were doing, namely, flying through the air. A glance out of the window would have revealed furrowed fields of cloud stained smoke-blue and violet as night and morning changed shifts –- but how were they passing time in First, Business and Coach? Crosswords. In-flight movies. Computer games. E-mail. Creation sprawls like a dewed and willing maiden outside your window awaiting only the lechery of your senses –- and what do you do? Complain about the dwarf cutlery. Plug your ears. Blind you eyes. Discuss Julia Roberts’s hair. Ah, me. Sometimes I think my work is done.

I'm angry that I want to cry because I feel like I've been manipulated by the soundtrack in my head - the same one that made me cry in some shit sentimental movie with Julia Roberts where the mum is dying of cancer.

In the words of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman: Big mistake. Big. Huge.

She forced herself to...turn and face him. It was easier with the width of the room between them. "I wanted to be able to take this relationship at face value, to enjoy it for what it was.... And I wanted to be sure I could walk away when it was over, completely unscathed. The problem is I can't. When you walked in this morning, all I could think was how much I'd wanted to see you, how much I'd missed you, how unhappy I'd because we were angry at each other." She stopped, straightened her shoulders. He was grinning at her, rocking back and forth on his heels. In a minute she was sure he'd be whistling. "I'd appreciate it if you'd take that smug look off your face. This isn't -" "I love you, Julia.

Darling," he said distractedly,"about the moon..." "Yes?" "I don't think it matters whether you want it or not." "What are you talking about?" "The moon. I think it's yours." Victoria yawned, not bothering to open her eyes. "Fine. i'm glad to have it." "But--" Robert shook his head. He was growing fanciful. the moon didn't belong to his wife. It didn't follow her, protect her. It certainly didn't wink at anybody. But he stared out the window the rest of the way home, just in case

As attentive readers may have noted, the standard narrative of heterosexual interaction boils down to prostitution: a woman exchanges her sexual services for access to resources. Maybe mythic resonance explains part of the huge box-office appeal of a film like Pretty Woman, where Richard Gere's character trades access to his wealth in exchange for what Julia Roberts's character has to offer (she plays a hooker with a heart of gold, if you missed it). Please note that what she's got to offer is limited to the aforementioned heart of gold, a smile as big as Texas, a pair of long, lovely legs, and the solemn promise that they'll open only for him from now on. The genius of Pretty Woman lies in making explicit what's been implicit in hundreds of films and books. According to this theory, women have evolved to unthinkingly and unashamedly exchange erotic pleasure for access to a man's wealth, protection, status, and other treasures likely to benefit her and her children.

To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

Augustus approved of Livia’s educative methods with Julia and of her domestic arrangements and economies. He had simple tastes himself. His palate was so insensitive that he did not notice the difference between virgin olive oil and the last rank squeezings when the olive-paste has gone a third time through the press.

I hope that's a good thing,' I said, thinking he might say I reminded him of a film star- then we'd actually have something in common. I was hoping for Anne Hathaway or Julia Roberts, and not the obvious Vivien Leigh. Even Angelina Jolie would have done, though I'd never quite forgiven her for stealing Brad's heart. Talking of Brad, was Sean starting to resemble him too? No, he could never be a Brad, a Matthew McConaughey maybe at a push, but never a Brad Pitt.

The Light has a request: It asks that you enjoy the process. Connecting to the Light is like taking part in a movie that is guaranteed to have a happy ending. Even as the storms rage and the bad guys attack, you play your part, but inside you’re not worried. That’s because you know you’re going to end up defeating the villains and walking into the sunset with Julia Roberts or Brad Pitt on your arm.

It seems right now that all I’ve ever done in my life is making my way here to you.’ I could see that Rosie could not place the line from The Bridges of Madison County that had produced such a powerful emotional reaction on the plane. She looked confused. ‘Don, what are you…what have you done to yourself?’ ‘I’ve made some changes.’ ‘Big changes.’ ‘Whatever behavioural modifications you require from me are a trivial price to pay for having you as my partner.’ Rosie made a downwards movement with her hand, which I could not interpret. Then she looked around the room and I followed her eyes. Everyone was watching. Nick had stopped partway to our table. I realised that in my intensity I had raised my voice. I didn’t care. ‘You are the world’s most perfect woman. All other women are irrelevant. Permanently. No Botox or implants will be required. ‘I need a minute to think,’ she said. I automatically started the timer on my watch. Suddenly Rosie started laughing. I looked at her, understandably puzzled at this outburst in the middle of a critical life decision. ‘The watch,’ she said. ‘I say “I need a minute” and you start timing. Don is not dead. 'Don, you don’t feel love, do you?’ said Rosie. ‘You can’t really love me.’ ‘Gene diagnosed love.’ I knew now that he had been wrong. I had watched thirteen romantic movies and felt nothing. That was not strictly true. I had felt suspense, curiosity and amusement. But I had not for one moment felt engaged in the love between the protagonists. I had cried no tears for Meg Ryan or Meryl Streep or Deborah Kerr or Vivien Leigh or Julia Roberts. I could not lie about so important a matter. ‘According to your definition, no.’ Rosie looked extremely unhappy. The evening had turned into a disaster. 'I thought my behaviour would make you happy, and instead it’s made you sad.’ ‘I’m upset because you can’t love me. Okay?’ This was worse! She wanted me to love her. And I was incapable. Gene and Claudia offered me a lift home, but I did not want to continue the conversation. I started walking, then accelerated to a jog. It made sense to get home before it rained. It also made sense to exercise hard and put the restaurant behind me as quickly as possible. The new shoes were workable, but the coat and tie were uncomfortable even on a cold night. I pulled off the jacket, the item that had made me temporarily acceptable in a world to which I did not belong, and threw it in a rubbish bin. The tie followed. On an impulse I retrieved the Daphne from the jacket and carried it in my hand for the remainder of the journey. There was rain in the air and my face was wet as I reached the safety of my apartment.

Look out!" Julia cried. "he has a snake! And he'll use it!

I'd rather have 30 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special. -Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias

I feel very Eat, Pray, Love right now, but specifically that scene in the movie where Julia Roberts just cries. Yeah. I feel like that but Black and tipsy.

But I am a top only – just so you know up front. And I don’t kiss.” Another Julia Roberts.

Julia could form no opinion of Robert, the bespectacled middle child, for he passed the entire journey with his nose stuck in a book, returning only monosyllabic answers to any questions put to him

Someday I hope I will be a movie star and some other little girl will look at me and say I have her eyes her nose her hair her laugh and she will feel beautiful. Maybe someday Julia Roberts will see me and think I have her mouth.

She won't know how to fulfill the duties of a noblewoman.' 'She is quite bright. And one could find no fault with her manners. She has received a gentle education. I am certain she will make an excellent countess.' Robert's expression softened. 'Her very nature will bring honor to our name.

She was named Juliet, after his wife, the bishop thought, but that was not what Julia meant at all. She was far too modest to think of calling her child after herself. Juliet, for her, was the name of that young girl of Verona whose tragic love has everywhere helped make youth and sorrow better friends.

Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Nothing will be gained by either of us being mad at a total stranger

Unintentionally, I've pulled the pin and lobbed a grenade into an already explosive situation

I'd rather have 30 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.

At least I had my books for company, losing myself within the pages for hours on end and allowing myself to imagine that I lived a very different life from the one I was actually enduring. In a way, I suppose I should be grateful to my grandparents. Those hours alone contributed to my lifelong love of reading which eventually led to my job at the library, despite my lack of formal qualifications

I did what I thought was best.' "And so you kidnapped me,' she said bitterly. 'If you recall I offered you the option of residing with my relatives. You refused.' 'I want to be independent.' 'One doesn't have to be alone to be independent.' Victoria couldn't think of a suitable rebuttal to that statement, so she remained silent. 'When I marry you,' Robert said softly, 'I want it to be a partnership in every sense of the word. I want to consult you on matters of land management and tenant care. I want us to decide together how to raise our children. I don't know why you are so certain that loving me means losing yourself.

If you like cool, funny entertainment, you might like this one. It's a first novel by a local author." She handed him a copy of Practical Demonkeeping. "A very different kind of buddy novel. I thought it was hilarious." "You're reading me like a book." The guy shook his head as if embarrassed by his own lame joke. Then he looked over at Blythe. Natalie saw his gaze move swiftly over her mother's red V-neck sweater and short skirt. "How can you tell that's exactly what would make me happy?" he asked. Oh boy. He was flirting. Guys did that a lot with her mom. She was super pretty, and Natalie knew it wasn't only because Mom was her mom and all kids thought their moms were pretty. Even her snottiest friends like Kayla said Blythe looked like a model. Like Julia Roberts. Plus, her mom had a knack for dressing cool and being social---she could talk to anyone and make them like her. Also, she had a superpower, which was on full display right now. She had the ability to see a person for the first time and almost instantly know what book to recommend. She was really smart and had also read every book ever written, or so it seemed to Natalie. She could talk to high school kids about Ivanhoe and Silas Marner. She ran a mystery discussion group. She could tell people the exact day the new Mary Higgins Clark novel would come out. She knew which kids would only ever read Goosebumps books, no matter what, and she knew which kids would try something else, like Edward Eager or Philip Pullman. Sometimes people didn't know anything about the book they were searching for except "It's blue with gold page edges" and her mom would somehow figure it out.

Some call me nature, others call me Mother Nature. ... How you choose to live each day, whether you regard me or disregard me, doesn't really matter to me. One way or other, your actions will determine your fate, not mine. I am nature. I will go on. I am prepared to evolve. Are you?

a movie set, Julia, is a tiny, intimate world, divorced from reality. No, immune to it.” She smiled to herself. “Fantasy, however difficult the work, is its own addiction. Which is why so many of us delude ourselves into believing we’ve fallen desperately in love with another character in that shiny bubble—for the length of time it takes to create a film.

It's too late," she whispered. He whirled her around. "Don't say that! We are no better than animals if we cannot learn from our mistakes and move forward." She lifted her chin. "It isn't that. I don't want to marry you anymore." And she didn't, she realized ... He paled and whispered, "You're just saying that." "I mean what I say, Robert. I don't want to marry you." "You're angry," he reasoned. "You're angry, and you want to hurt me, and you have every right to feel that way." "I'm not angry." She paused. "Well, yes, I am, but that's not why I'm refusing you." He crossed his arms. "Why, then? Why won't you even listen to me?" "Because I'm happy now! Is that so difficult for you to understand? I like my position and I love my independence.

To Daisies, Not To Shut So Soon Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night Has not as yet begun To make a seizure on the light, Or to seal up the sun. No marigolds yet closed are; No shadows great appear; Nor doth the early shepherds' star Shine like a spangle here. Stay but till my Julia close Her life-begetting eye, And let the whole world then dispose Itself to live or die.

Back in L.A., I’d remained friends with my freshman-year boyfriend, Collin, and we’d become even closer after he confided in me one dark and emotional night that he’d finally come to terms with his homosexuality. Around that time, his mother was visiting from Dallas, and Collin invited me to meet them at Hotel Bel Air for brunch. I wore the quintessential early-1990s brunch outfit: a copper-brown silk tank with white, dime-size polka dots and a below-the-knee, swinging skirt to match. A flawless Pretty Woman--Julia Roberts polo match replica. I loved that outfit. It was silk, though, and clingy, and the second I sat down at the table I knew I was in trouble. My armpits began to feel cool and wet, and slowly I noticed the fabric around my arms getting damper and damper. By the time our mimosas arrived, the ring of sweat had spread to the level of my third rib; by mealtime, it had reached the waistline of my skirt, and the more I tried to will it away, the worse it got. I wound up eating my Eggs Florentine with my elbows stuck to my hip bones so Collin and his mother wouldn’t see. But copper-brown silk, when wet, is the most unforgiving fabric on the planet. Collin had recently come out to his parents, so I’d later determined I’d experienced some kind of sympathetic nervousness on Collin’s behalf. I never wore that outfit again. Never got the stains out. Nor would I ever wear this suit again.

On the Craft of Writing:  The Story Grid: What Good Editors Know by Shawn Coyne The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E. B. White 2K to 10K: Writing Faster, Writing Better, and Writing More of What You Love by Rachel Aaron  On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King Take Off Your Pants! Outline Your Books for Faster, Better Writing by Libbie Hawker  You Are a Writer (So Start Acting Like One) by Jeff Goins Prosperity for Writers: A Writer's Guide to Creating Abundance by Honorée Corder  The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles by Steven Pressfield Business for Authors: How To Be An Author Entrepreneur by Joanna Penn  On Writing Well: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction by William Zinsser Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer by Roy Peter Clark On Mindset:  The One Thing: The Surprisingly Simple Truth Behind Extraordinary Results by Gary Keller and Jay Papasan The Art of Exceptional Living by Jim Rohn Vision to Reality: How Short Term Massive Action Equals Long Term Maximum Results by Honorée Corder The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change by Stephen R. Covey Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less by Greg Mckeown Mastery by Robert Greene The Success Principles: How to Get from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be by Jack Canfield and Janet Switzer The Game of Life and How to Play It by Florence Scovel Shinn The Compound Effect by Darren Hardy Taking Life Head On: How to Love the Life You Have While You Create the Life of Your Dreams by Hal Elrod Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill In

born there on February 22, 1841. Meanwhile, Isaac built a four-room log cabin on his claim, and there his first daughter in his marriage to Mary Ann, Julia Melvina, was born on March 28, 1843. It is altogether

@LucyFitz Topic of the day: Celebs who look like other celebs. @BroderickAdams to @LucyFitz Julia Roberts = Steven Tyler. @LucyFitz to @BroderickAdams#mindblown

Is this what Julia Roberts’ character feels like in Pretty Woman? Two parts princess, one part whore?

Not, of course, as much as Julia Roberts or David Beckham or Robbie Williams, but he found he wasn’t really bothered about that. He was, after all, basically a simple, modest person at heart. Doing a short but honest day’s work, doing it well and earning a revoltingly large amount of money would suit him very nicely.

In the quiet evening, though, I’d catch an old Meg Ryan or Julia Roberts rom-com on the television. And I can tell you this: no one in the world wants to be single during a rom-com. No one in the world says, Thank God nobody looks at me that way. Thank God nobody sprints through an airport and shouts “I love you” just before going through security.

Shut the fuck up. Lies. Holy fuck. Dad’s going to kill you. You’ll need to change your name to Julia Roberts because your ass is sleeping with the enemy.

Elle is starring in my movie. I should be Julia Roberts. Instead I’m Kathy Bates in Misery.

People seem to be awfully gullible. They'll believe anything. ~in The NPR Intreviews, 1996, edited by Robert Siegel

Have you ever seen the Goodbye Girl? Don't watch it if you still want to enjoy romantic comedies. It makes every movie ever made starring Julia Roberts or Sandra Bullock lash itself in shame. Also, don't watch The Goodbye Girl if it would trouble you to find Richard Dreyfuss wildly attractive for the rest of your life, even when you see him in What About Bob? or Mr. Holland's Opus.

(according to the rules of NPC, one must not refer to the right-wing disrupters as radicals, whether they are in Hobart Town Hall or outside Parliament House in Canberra under banners reading ‘Julia Gillard: Bob Brown’s Bitch’)

L'ultima scena del tenero Notting Hill offre una descrizione inedita della felicità: Julia Robrts con la testa appoggiata sulle ginocchia di Hugh Grent che legge un libro. Incredibile: si può aver Julia Roberts sulle ginocchia e leggere un libro. Anzi, a volte si può averla proprio perché si è capaci di leggere un libro. Quindi leggere un libro non è sempre: a) un lavoro forzato, b) un passatempo da sfigati, c) una pericolosa malattia sociale, come invece crede la maggior parte dei maschi giovani (e meno giovani) del Paese. La scoperta è stata accolta con stupore da vasti settori del pubblico, gli stessi che a metà del film non avevano riso a una battuta su Henry James per il semplice motivo che ignoravano chi fosse. All'uscita un ragazzino non si era ancora ripreso dallo shock; "Hai visto Hugh Grent? Leg-ge-va!" diceva a un amico, con la voce imbarazzata di chi sta rivelando un atto erotico. Sono momenti duri per gli ultimi seguaci di Gutemberg: l'orco Bill Gates ha dichiarato di voler abolire la carta entro la fine del prossimo decennio. E l'han pure applaudito, anziché tirargli una playstation in testa. Anche per questo, grazie allo sceneggiatore di Notting Hill, Richard Curtis, lo stesso che in Quattro matrimoni e un funerale fece conoscere il genio poetico di W.H. Auden. Ha fatto più lui per la famosa "cultura" che tanti nostri cineasti finanziati dallo Stato e ignorati dal pubblico.

I'd rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.-Shelby played by Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias

Famous INFPs include Isabel Myers (creator of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator), St. John the disciple, Carl Rogers, Princess Diana, George Orwell, Audrey Hepburn, Fred Rogers, A.A. Milne, Helen Keller, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Julia Roberts, and William Shakespeare.

Me, too …Huh, maybe I do like Tom Cruise. But I hate feeling pressured to find him attractive. I don’t." "Nobody does. It’s a lie perpetuated by the American media. Tom Cruise and Julia Roberts.

<> Men don’t like Julia Roberts? <> Nope. Her teeth scare them. <> Good to know.

I am nothing like Julia Roberts. She relied on a rich man to save her. I think I just saved myself.

dropping

On the upside, Will's daughter Arta had pitched in to help Julia manage the Irma Hotel. Near the end of March Arta cabled her father that the books, statements,

Louisa apparently had also attempted to drive Julia out of the Irma, for

It was five o’clock and Susan agreed to join Pam for a drink while I made supper. I pounded some lamb steaks I’d bought for lamb cutlets. Dipped them in flour, then egg, then bread crumbs. When they were what Julia Child calls nicely coated I put them aside and peeled four potatoes. I cut them into little egg-shaped oblongs, which took a while, and started them cooking in a little oil, rolling them around to get them brown all over. I also started the cutlets in another pan. When the potatoes were evenly browned I covered them, turned down the heat and left them to cook through. When the cutlets had browned, I poured off the fat, added some Chablis and some fresh mint, covered them and let them cook. Susan came out into the kitchen once to make two new drinks. I made a Greek salad with feta cheese and ripe olives and Susan set the table while I took the lamb cutlets out of the pan and cooked down the wine. I shut off the heat, put in a lump of unsalted butter, swirled it through the wine essence and poured it over the cutlets. With the meal we had warm Syrian bread and most of a half gallon of California Burgundy. Pam Shepard told me it was excellent and what a good cook I was.

A Kindle?” I blurt. “My card is attached to the account. Buy whatever books you want.” My eyes go wide. “The five most romantic words ever spoken. You have no idea the kind of damage I could do.” He waves me away. “Do your worst.” I want to. I really want to. Having a credit card and an ebook store is my version of Julia Roberts shopping for clothes in Pretty Woman. This is my romcom montage moment.

I changed the sheets while Mum was having a cup of tea in front of the television watching Countdown. She's surprisingly good at making words out of the nine random letters considering how confused she can get about other things, but that's the tragedy of dementia: some things are clear and obvious while others become shrouded in grey fog

Robert, plain-spoken man that he was, made no attempt to gloss over the fact that her appearance was not up to her usual standards. “You look as if you've been attacked by dogs,

The deafening sound of music recedes as the door to the ladies' loo swings closed behind me, but I can still feel the heavy bass vibrating through my body, beating in time with the miniature drummer in my head. A few years ago, I could have put it down to a dozen or more gin and tonic and the start of the inevitable hangover, but I rarely drink these days

I know how lucky I am to have a relationship that is so close to perfect. Am I asking too much for it to be made complete

I can see how my desperation to be a mother might have worn him down to such an extent that it's starting to erode the love he feels for me

Trust is the single most important thing in a relationship, be it a marriage or friendship, and I've already betrayed that. I don't expect she will ever forgive me, but you two might still be able to work things out

Emma Thompson, ca. Sense and Sensibility: You must cease and desist all such lustful thoughts, you beast. Emma Stone, ca. Zombieland: Over your dead body. Julia Roberts, ca. Pretty Woman: Big mistake. Huge. Cardi B, in any situation: Bitch, please. All of those worked. Unfortunately, what was more likely to come out of her mouth was straight-up Jennifer Lawrence: I volunteer as tribute.

To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON Every time you don’t follow your inner guidance, you feel a loss of energy, loss of power, a sense of spiritual deadness. SHAKTI GAWAIN

the end of his letter, he asked Julia if she had ever heard from

It is at this point in the recovery process that we make what Robert Bly calls a “descent into ashes.” We mourn the self we abandoned. We greet this self as we might greet a lover at the end of a long and costly war.

You should see the latest computer-generated movies featuring the long-gone old stars with the new. I've watched the video of Arizona Sunset at least a dozen times." "Who plays the leads?" "Humphrey Bogart, Lionel Barrymore, Marilyn Monroe, Julia Roberts, and Tom Cruise. It's so real, you'd swear they all acted together on the set.

Besides Tiberius, Nero, Otho and Vespasian all had their astrologer. Titus, Domitian and Hadrian were sufficiently expert themselves to draw up a horoscope, and Septimius Severus (who married Julia Domna after making enquiries about marriageable daughters of royal blood) dispensed justice in a hall of the palace where his own astral horoscope was painted on the ceiling (DC, 77, 11, 1).

Mystic Pizza? It was one of Julia Roberts’s

Then let’s get you dried off and into your pj’s.” “‘Let’s get out of these wet clothes and into a dry martini,’” he said. “Robert Benchley.” I laughed. I was so relieved he wasn’t dead that I would have laughed at anything. “I’ve been waiting all my life to say that,” Frank said.

they were debating who was sexier out of Julia Roberts and Jennifer Lopez.

I don't speak. There's nothing I can say. She hasn't been a good mother; in fact, she's barely been a mother to me at all. I'm starting to unpick her history and understand the reasons why, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept that I was a disappointment to her from the moment she gave me life

We begin to excavate our buried dreams. This is a tricky process ... the mere act of brushing some of them off sends an enormous surge of energy bolting through our denial system ... we make what Robert Bly calls a "decent into ashes". We mourn the self we abandoned ... we find a certain amount of grief to be essential ... We must allow the bolt of pain to strike us. Remember, this is useful pain; lightning illuminates.

I’m sure our newcomers appreciate hearing that being diagnosed with HIV is not all doom and gloom.” The leader’s gaze swept over all the others in the circle. “With an attitude like Duncan’s, great things will happen to you. Don’t let the disease define you. Make the disease work for you instead.” An hour later, the meeting was over. John had gotten the opportunity to introduce himself to the group, something he would have preferred to have skipped, but that wasn’t allowed. Everyone must participate in that part; only the question and answer session that followed was optional. He hadn’t mentioned that he used to be a cop, certainly not that he had been fired. He’d just said that he was a private eye and that he would be happy to be their spy if they needed one. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Linda asked John when they were outside the room and in the hallway, where donuts and coffee and tea were served. Most of the participants milled around there, connecting with each other. John shrugged and grabbed a jelly donut. “I guess not.” The bespectacled leader named Robert came up to them then. He was on the short side and had an emaciated face with delicate features. He stuck out a bony hand toward John. John took it and gave it a firm shake. “John, it’s so nice to have you join us today,” Robert said with a broad smile that displayed big, graying teeth. Robert was HIV-positive as well, and in the chronic HIV stage. “Thank you for having me,” John said and returned the smile as best he could. “It’s been very…educational. I’m glad I came.” “Great,” Robert said, then his attention went to Linda. “Thanks for bringing your friend, Linda. And for coming again yourself.” “Oh, of course,” Linda said and smiled. Her hazel eyes glittered with warmth. “It’s a great group and you’re a great leader.” “Thank you. That’s so kind of you to say.” Robert tossed a glance over his shoulder, then leaned in toward John and Linda. “I just wanted to apologize for Doris.” “Apologize?” Linda repeated. “What did she do?” “Well, for starters, she’s not 33. She’s 64 and has been infected for thirty years. She’s also a former heroin addict and prostitute. She likes to pretend that she’s someone else entirely, and because we don’t want to upset her, we humor her. We pretend she’s being truthful when she talks about herself. I’d appreciate it if you help us keep her in the dark.” That last sentence had a tension to it that the rest of Robert’s words hadn’t had. It was almost like he’d warned them not to go against his will, or else. Not that it had been necessary to impress that on either John or Linda. John especially appreciated the revelation. Maybe having HIV was not as gruesome as Doris had made it seem then. Six Yvonne jerked awake when the phone rang. It rang and rang for several seconds before she realized where she was and what was going on. She pushed herself up on the bed and glanced around for the device. When she eventually spotted it on the floor beside the bed, it had stopped ringing. Even so, she rolled over on her side and fished it up to the bed. Crossing her legs Indian-style, she checked who had called her. It was Gabe, which was no surprise. He was the only one who had her latest burner number. He had left her a voicemail. She played it. “Mom, good news. I have the meds. Jane came through. Where do you want me to drop them off? Should I come to the motel? Call me.” Exhilaration streamed through her and she was suddenly wide awake. She made a fist in the air. Yes! Finally something was going their way. Now all they had to do was connect without Gabe leading the cops to her. She checked the time on the ancient clock radio on the nightstand. It was past six o’clock. So she must have slept

THE ROCK OF RUBIES, AND THE QUARRY OF PEARLS Some ask'd me where the Rubies grew: And nothing I did say, But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia. Some ask'd how Pearls did grow, and where: Then spoke I to my girl, To part her lips, and shew me there The quarrelets of Pearl.

HIS COVENANT OR PROTESTATION TO JULIA Why dost thou wound and break my heart, As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an oath from me, After a day, or two, or three, I would come back and live with thee? Take, if thou dost distrust that vow, This second protestation now:— Upon thy cheek that spangled tear, Which sits as dew of roses there, That tear shall scarce be dried before I'll kiss the threshold of thy door; Then weep not, Sweet, but thus much know,— I'm half returned before I go.

He wants something he can’t have. And he can delay it for three months, but it won’t make any difference.” “It won’t?” She pants the words as I grind my erection into her belly. I want her wet and horny for me flying with him to their new townhouse in fucking Palo Alto. “No.” I squeeze each cheek, loving that my hands can’t hold all that ass. “Because this ass is mine.” My beautiful, brilliant girl with her Julia Roberts lips and her lush ass. He thinks he can take her from me?

Why I tie about thy wrist, Julia, this silken twist, For what other reason is’t But to show thee how, in part, Thou my pretty captive art? But thy bond slave is my heart. ’Tis but silk that bindeth thee, Knap the thread and thou art free, But ’tis otherwise with me: I am bound and fast bound so That from thee I cannot go; If I could I would not so. —ROBERT HERRICK, “The Bracelet (to Julia)

I’m just a girl, standing before a boy, asking him to love her,’” Jenny said in breathy imitation of Julia Roberts’s famous line in the movie.