Linda Quotes

There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.

Do you want to know why men name their penis? So the most important decisions in their life aren't made by a stranger.

Some people see scars, and it is wounding they remember. To me they are proof of the fact that there is healing.

If slaughterhouses had glass walls, the whole world would be vegetarian.

It was amazing how a crisis could concentrate some minds while others went to pieces. Things had gone disastrously wrong in the last few days for Adam. His only worry before finding the book had been how to keep his girlfriend Linda without marrying her in the process. A contest he had lost.

Inside he was hurt. Not so much with Linda, but his failure to impress women generally with his abilities. There she was, an example: lending – no, giving –thirty thousand pounds to a smooth-talking old bastard, but she would not part with a penny to him after living with him for a year or more.

Walking. I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.

If you love someone enough, you can make them invincible. Like your feelings for them are so strong they work as a magical shield, protecting them from all harm and pain.

Though I knew in my mind that others had felt such loss, this loss was mine, and I felt that no one would ever understand it, and to try to explain the lonliness and pain I felt would be futile.

You’re the warm sun that shines when everything else is dark,” he went on, lifting his hands to rest them on the wall on either side of my face. “A smile and a hug in a roomful of disapproval. You’re…” Wincing, he pressed his forehead against mine. “You’re everything.

See, your laugh is exactly what's keeping me away, woman. I just want to kiss those lips and hoard that sound all to myself.

Walking, I can almost hear the redwoods beating. And the oceans are above me here, rolling clouds, heavy and dark. It is winter and there is smoke from the fires. It is a world of elemental attention, of all things working together, listening to what speaks in the blood. Whichever road I follow, I walk in the land of many gods, and they love and eat one another. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.

A mistake made with good in your heart is still a mistake, but it is one for which you must forgive yourself.

I'm not holding you against your will; I'm holding you against your car.

A pool just isn't the same as the ocean. It has no energy. No life.

Why was it that pride and foolishness were so often close companions?

Is it time for your period, or something?" With unerring instinct, he'd found a great big red button, and pushed it. Wyatt fights to win, which means he fights dirty. I understand the concept because that's how I fight, too, but understanding it didn't stop me from reacting. I could practically feel my blood bubbling with steam. "What?" He turned around, all controlled aggression, and damned if he didn't push the button again. "What is it about having a period that makes women so bitchy?" ... It was an effort, but I said as sweetly as possible, "It isn't that we're bitchier, it's that having a period makes us feel all tired and achy, so we have less tolerance for all the bullshit we normally SUFFER IN SILENCE." By the time the sentence ended the sweetness was long gone, my jaw was clenched, and I think my eyes were bugging out. Wyatt took a step back, belatedly looking alarmed.

If you believe in your heart that you are right, then you must fight with all your might to do it your way. Only dead fish swim with the stream all the time.

Your head is the house you live in, so you have to do the maintenance.

She should have remembered her past experiences in the relationship wars and not let herself get so excited. Evidently her hormones had overruled her common sense and she had become drunk on ovarian wine, the most potent, sanity- destroying substance in the universe.

I took my first sip. When I moaned, he arched an amused brow. “Would you two like to be alone?” I tucked my latte protectively close. “Yes. Could you give us fifteen, twenty minutes tops? I have a feeling things are about to get real obscene up in this house.

Holy guacamole. Was that a double entendre? I swear that was a double entendre. Someone hold my panties on for me because Mason Lowe was freaking flirting with me, using double entendres.

But usually, I watched Linda read. I couldn't believe she'd read so much in summer! Sometimes she laughed, reading her book, and one time she even cried. I didn't know how anyone could make such a big deal about books.

One step at a time, one day at a time, just today, just this day to get through.

Honey, the only experts in PMS are men. That's why men are so good at fighting wars; they learned Escape and Evade at home.

Society will not crumble if men take a turn at the dishes.

Linda and I aren't one and one. We are two halves that make a whole -- two halves fitted together are more efficient than either half would ever be alone!

Sweeney: I can just see all you tough young soldiers cuddling together. Richard: Not cuddling, huddling. There's a difference.

It was just a kiss – " "Yeah, and King Kong was just a monkey.

Linda was nine then, as I was, but we were in love...it had all the shadings and complexities of mature adult love and maybe more, because there were not yet words for it, and because it was not yet fixed to comparisons or chronologies or the ways by which adults measure such things...I just loved her. Even then, at nine years old, I wanted to live inside her body. I wanted to melt into her bones -- that kind of love.

When many voices are speaking at once, listen to the one most quiet and gentle. That’s the one worth listening to. ~ Miranda* ~

If you're looking for Mr. Perfect, you‟re going to spend your whole life being disappointed, because he doesn‟t exist. You have to get the best deal you can, but there will always be problems.

Are you seriously going to walk out of here right now after I just confessed my soul to you, cool as a cucumber, without reciprocating at all?” “What?” I sent him a blank look. Then I rolled my eyes and reached out to ruffle his amazing hair. “Mason Lowe, if you don’t know by now that I’m attracted as hell to you, you’re freaking blind.” He stared at me a moment before muttering, “There. Was that so hard to admit?

So, you don’t give out freebies? Like ever?” That just sounded so bizarre to me. I would’ve thought a gigolo would be a complete man-whore, even off the clock. But when his jaw went dead still as he stopped chewing and he said, “Are you…asking for one?

Sometimes, the Lord just takes blessed people because they've filled their purpose early. Everyone plays their own song. They sing their story to the world and leave behind a melody of memories. Sometimes... their song is cut short and ends too early. But that doesn't mean their music was any less sweet or that they left any less of an impression.

All these years later, people still wonder about how Bruce died. I prefer to remember how he lived.

Paul's last words to Linda: "You're up on your beautiful Appaloosa stallion. It's a fine spring day. We're riding through the woods. The bluebells are all out, and the sky is clear-blue".

One small crack does not mean that you are broken, it means that you were put to the test and you didn’t fall apart.

For all those who believe, expect a miracle.

Don’t kiss me,” she said warningly. “I don’t intend to,” he replied, smiling a little. “I don’t have my whip and chair with me.

And if you’ve been somebody’s first call, it’s hard not to be their first call anymore. She says it’s one of the reasons why parents sometimes feel sad when their kids are getting married. It’s not just the empty nest. They’re not the first call anymore. I’m not Andy’s first call anymore. It doesn’t mean I want to be his girlfriend, and it doesn’t mean I don’t like her. But it was sad. It’s different. The doctor says it’s important to be sad.

But once you accept the fact that you have always been alone, and will always be, then your perspective can begin to change. You can become aware of the small kindnesses, the little comforts. Be grateful for them.

Take risks! That is really what life is about. We must pursue our own happiness. Nobody has ever lived our lives; ther are no guidelines. Trust your instincts. Accept nothing but the best. But then also look for it carefully. Don't allow it to slip between your fingers. Sometimes, good things come to us in a such a quiet fashion. And nothing comes complete. It is what we make of whatever we encounter that determines the outcome. What we choose to see, what we choose to save. And what we choose to remember. Never forget that all the love in your life is there, inside you, always.

Your library is your portrait.

He lifted the arm covering his eyes and turned his head to glare at her. "I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you." "What do you mean, trouble?" She sat up, glaring back at him. "I am not trouble! I'm a very nice person except when I have to deal with jerks!" "You're the worst kind of trouble," he snapped. "You're marrying trouble.

Get a crush on the best looking, most popular, rich boy in school. How original.

Where’s my white out?” “Chapter ten is missing!” “Has anyone seen my socks?” Linda spun around. Mistress Yvonne gripped her shoulders. “This is a regular occurrence. No need to get involved.” Faint shouts echoed down the hall. “Leprechauns!

There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story.

Lots of people like rainbows. Children make wishes on them, artists paint them, dreamers chase them, but the Aquarian is ahead of everybody. He lives on one. What's more, he's taken it apart and examined it, piece by piece, color by color, and he still believes in it. It isn't easy to believe in something after you know what it's really like, but the Aquarian is essentially a realist, even though his address is tomorrow, with a wild-blue-yonder zip code.

If I touch you right now, that’s it. I won’t be able to stop. I wanted to make sure you have all your playtime in before I get started.” “Aww … Thinking of me first. That’s so sweet. Thank you.” “Yeah, I’m a frigging saint. Now will you please touch my dick like you mean it before the damn thing explodes?

Death isn't peaceful; it is just nothing. Everything is gone. No more sunrises, no more hopes, no more fears. Nothing.

There are ways in, journeys to the center of life, through time; through air, matter, dream and thought. The ways are not always mapped or charted, but sometimes being lost, if there is such a thing, is the sweetest place to be. And always, in this search, a person might find that she is already there, at the center of the world. It may be a broken world, but it is glorious nonetheless.

A village somewhere was missing it's idiot.

We need to forgive ourselves and everyone else for NOT being perfect.

You’re the warm sun that shines when everything else is dark,

I think you will agree that life's plans are not always tied up in neat little packages. Occasionally we find ourselves at unexpected crossroads with more than one opportunity from which to choose. Time itself is often the best indicator of which decision to make, for it can tell so many thing that are now hazy.

Why do people say ‘grow some balls’? Balls are weak and sensitive. If you wanna be tough, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding.

Can I touch you?” His lashes closed, resting on the tops of his tanned, sculpted cheeks as his smile grew broad. “You don’t have to ask.” I reached out immediately but paused within inches of contact. He must’ve sensed my hesitation because he reopened his eyes. “What’s wrong?” I swallowed, utterly overwhelmed. “I don’t know where to start.” Mason’s gaze warmed . He wrapped strong warm fingers around my wrist and drew my palm forward, leading me where he wanted my hand to follow. When he set it on the center of his chest, right over his heart and pressed my flesh to his as if fingerprinting my soul to his. I blinked back gratified tears. “Start here. No one’s ever touched me here before.

Buck up, suck up, and admit you fucked up.

Are you making fun of my hero complex?' Yeah.

Karma-sutra: fate fucking you in all kinds of creative ways

It's always the one you shouldn't want that you end up wanting the most

Every other girl in school thinks you're the hottest thing since the microwave.

Everybody's heart is like a cup. They stumble from place to place and person to person, trying to get them filled. They get cracked, those cups, and even broken. Some people throw them away, thinking that it will stop the pain. Poor fools. Nobody can fill a cup but Almighty God Himself. Nobody.

Every woman treats me that way, Reese. I’m not a person to them. I’m just…a good time or something vile to be avoided at all costs. And then you came along and you…you hugged me. You are the first person who sees me, Mason, not sex for sale.

Oh, is that what's in the box? You threw my engagement ring at me?

We are all searching for the fairy tale. When it doesn't come, we try to create it.

tears have a purpose. they are what we carry of the ocean, and perhaps we must become the sea, give ourselves to it, if we are to be transformed.

I was supposed to go with you, wherever you went. We’re a team. You told me once that I had to have a place. Well, I finally figured out where it is. It’s with you.

I’m going to go," he said. "All right." He didn’t move. Then: "I don’t want to." "Do it anyway." He chuckled. "You’re a hard woman, Faith Devlin." "Hardy." "I didn’t know him. He isn’t real to me. Did you love him?" "Yes." But not the way I love you. Never like that.

One more thing: Linda, can you get to Canterbury and take over my Chaucerian Society? They're at Dovecote Hostelry in the old city. We're visiting all the scenes of the great murders. Tomorrow they want to see where Becket was killed. They're a bloodthirsty lot, it seems.

Then I met Linda and the sun rose. I can't find a better way to express it. The sun rose in my life. At first, as dawn breaking on the horizon, almost as if to say, this is where you have to look. Then came the first rays of sunshine, everything became clearer, lighter, more alive, and I became happier and happier, and then it hung in the sky of my life and shone and shone and shone.

I thought you were a drunk." "A drunk?" "Bloodshot eyes, dirty clothes, getting home in the wee hours of the morning, making a lot of noise, grouchy all the time as if you had a hangover… what else was I to think?" He rubbed his face. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I should have showered, shaved, and dressed in a suit before I came out to tell you that you were making enough noise to raise the dead.

Tink, you are the best thing that's ever happened to that kid. I don't care if he only has one day left with you or twenty, you just keep doing whatever you're doing until you have to go, and I will forever worship the ground you walk on. Because a little slice of heaven is better than none at all.

Bienvenida" Se me ocurre que vas a llegar distinta no exactamente más linda ni más fuerte ni más dócil ni más cauta tan solo que vas a llegar distinta como si esta temporada de no verme te hubiera sorprendido a vos también quizá porque sabes cómo te pienso y te enumero después de todo la nostalgia existe aunque no lloremos en los andenes fantasmales ni sobre las almohadas de candor ni bajo el cielo opaco yo nostalgio tu nostalgias y cómo me revienta que él nostalgie tu rostro es la vanguardia tal vez llega primero porque lo pinto en las paredes con trazos invisibles y seguros no olvides que tu rostro me mira como pueblo sonríe y rabia y canta como pueblo y eso te da una lumbre inapagable ahora no tengo dudas vas a llegar distinta y con señales con nuevas con hondura con franqueza sé que voy a quererte sin preguntas sé que vas a quererme sin respuestas.

One step at a time . . . one day at a time. Just today—just this day to get through . . .

You might not have charged me a fee, but kissing you is too big of a price for me. I didn’t sign up for this. Now let me go.

Twelve-year-olds are eager to turn everything into arguments but don't have the cognitive skills to win them.

Oh, why did people have to be seperated before they understood how much they meant to each other?

Jesus first, others next, and yourself last spells J-O-Y.

Anyone can find an excuse. It takes a special person to find the time

Must. Soothe. The hottie.

When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun.'" -Groucho Marx

How can I help you through this? What can I do to ease your pain, because I swear to God, I’ll do anything.” Absolutely anything. She set her hand on her heart and looked up at me, her eyes filled with so much emotion, I swear, some of it overflowed, spilling into me. “Just love me,” she whispered. “I do,” I promised.

Twice in her life she had mistaken something else for it; it was like seeing somebody in the street who you think is a friend, you whistle and wave and run after him, and it is not only not the friend, but not even very like him. A few minutes later the real friend appears in view, and then you can't imagine how you ever mistook that other person for him. Linda was now looking upon the authentic face of love, and she knew it, but it frightened her. That it should come so casually, so much by a series of accidents, was frightening.

The fastest way to find out if someone is really your friend, is to tell them that you’re broke.

His mouth was hot and hungry, and he kissed the way no man should kiss and still be allowed to run free.

You think you know everything about a person, but the truth often comes as a surprise.

I'll tell you what's wrong!" he roared, "I'm trying to quit smoking!" Then he strode angrily to the truck, leaving her standing there. She blinked her eyes, and slowly a smile stretched her lips. She strolled to the truck and got in. "So, are you homicidal or merely as irritable as a wounded buffalo?" "About halfway in between," he said through clenched teeth. "Anything I can do to help?" His eyes were narrow and intense. "It isn't just the cigarettes. Take off your panties and lock your legs around me, and I'll show you.

You burn the paper, but not the words. You silence the words, but not the thoughts. You kill the thoughts only if you kill the man. And you will find that his thoughts rise again in the minds of others - twice as strong as before.

People will promise you the moon, offer you the stars, but in the end, the only heavenly body you can truly count on is your on!

At the moment, he kinda knew how the male praying mantis felt when he was approaching Ms. Mantis, knowing the sex was going to be great but he was going to gethis head bitten off. Ah, well. Some things were worth losing your head.

You. Are. Mine … I don’t care how wrong we are for each other. I don’t care that I’ll never be good enough for you or that we’re risking everything to be together. Your mother would never approve. Whatever. Fuck it all. You are fucking mine. And I’m yours. And we belong together.

She liked a very particular kind of plot: the sort where the pirate kidnaps some virgin damsel, rapes her into loving him, and then dispatches lots of seamen while she polishes his cutlass. Or where the Highland clan leader kidnaps some virginal English Rose, rapes her into loving him, and then kills entire armies Sassenachs while she stuffs his haggis. Or where the Native American warrior kidnaps a virginal white settler, rapes her into loving him, and then kills a bunch of colonists while she whets his tomahawk. I hated to get Freudian on Linda, but her reading patterns suggested some interesting insight into why she is such a bitch.

I loved you when you were a snot-nosed kid, into so much mischief it's a wonder my hair didn't turn prematurely gray. I loved you when you were a teenager with long, skinny legs and eyes that broke my heart every time I looked at you. I love you now that you're a woman who makes my brain go soft, my legs go weak, and my dick get hard. When you walk into a room, my heart damn near jumps out of my chest. When you smile, I feel as if I've won a Nobel Prize. And your eyes still break my heart.

Eva was right. I could never deserve you. You’re too good for me. You’re out of my reach. You’re…you’re Reese Randall.” “You’re wrong. I’m not.” I wasn’t really Reese Randall, and I certainly wasn’t out of his reach. “All you have to do is stretch out your hand, Mason.” Pressing my palm against my chest, I whispered, “I’m right here.

You were happy last night. This morning is a different story." "You think I have a hangover. I don't. Well a little headache, but not much. Just let this be a warning to you if you keep me from sleeping again tonight." "I kept you from sleeping? I kept you from sleeping?" he repeated incredulously. "You are the same woman who shook me out of a sound sleep at two a.m. yesterday morning, aren't you?" "I didn't shake you. I kind of bounced on you, but I didn't shake you." "Bounced," he repeated. "You had a hard-on. I couldn't let it go to waste, could I?" "You could have woke me up before you started not to let it go to waste." "Look," she said exasperated, "If you don't want used, don't lie on your back with it sticking up like that. If that isn't an invitation, I don't know what is." "I was asleep. It does that on its own." It was doing it on its own right know, as a matter of fact. It poked her in the stomach. She looked down... and smiled. It was a smile that made his testicles draw up in fear. With a sniff, she turned her back on him and ignored him as she finished showering. "Hey!" he said, to get her attention. Alarm was in his tone. "You aren't going to let this one go to waste are you?

What We Want What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book and these things bear our names -- now they want us. But what we want appears in dreams, wearing disguises. We fall past, holding out our arms and in the morning our arms ache. We don't remember the dream, but the dream remembers us. It is there all day as an animal is there under the table, as the stars are there.

Oh, Jesus,” he said, wheezing with the effort it took to control himself. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You little innocent. I’m fluent in French, but it isn’t my first language.” It was plain by the mortified expression in those green eyes that she didn’t understand, so he explained. “Baby , if I can still think clearly enough to speak French, then I’m not totally involved in what I’m doing. It may sound pretty , but it doesn’t mean any thing. Men are different from women; the more excited we are, the more like cavemen we sound. I could barely speak English with you, much less French. As I remember, my vocabulary deteriorated to a few short, explicit words, ‘fuck’ being the most prominent.” To his amazement, she blushed, and he smiled at this further evidence of her charming prudery. “Go to sleep,” he said gently. “Lindsey didn’t even rate a replay.

John Hay, in The Immortal Wilderness, has written: 'There are occasions when you can hear the mysterious language of the Earth, in water, or coming through the trees, emanating from the mosses, seeping through the undercurrents of the soil, but you have to be willing to wait and receive.' Sometimes I hear it talking. The light of the sunflower was one language, but there are others more audible. Once, in the redwood forest, I heard a beat, something like a drum or a heart coming from the ground and trees and wind. That underground current stirred a kind of knowing inside me, a kinship and longing, a dream barely remembered that disappeared back to the body.... Tonight, I walk. I am watching the sky. I think of the people who came before me and how they knew the placement of the stars in the sky, watching the moving sun long and hard enough to witness how a certain angle of light touched a stone only once a year. Without written records, they knew the gods of every night, the small, fine details of the world around them and the immensity above them. Walking, I can almost hear the redwoods beating....It is a world of elemental attention, of all things working together, listening to what speaks in the blood. Whichever road I follow, I walk in the land of many gods, and they love and eat one another. Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.