Lots Of Love And Hugs To You Quotes

We danced too wild, and we sang too long, and we hugged too hard, and we kissed too sweet, and howled just as loud as we wanted to howl, because by now we were all old enough to know that what looks like crazy on an ordinary day looks a lot like love if you catch it in the moonlight.

If you don't want to tear off the clothes of the person you're on a date with and jump into bed with them, then what's the point? I'd never date; instead, I'd have lots of good friends and hug them a lot and life would be easier and neater and uncomplicated.

I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Standing there at the stage door to the rest of your life. Time to dip your toe into the deep end. Try things. Say hi already. Laugh a lot. Mess up. Apologize. Mess up again. Hug people. Take chances. Trust yourself. Lose things. Get over it. Hold your friends close. Gather your strength. Gain wisdom and beautiful stories. Be brave, and you'll have the time of your life.

I tilt my head and ask “What firsts have we already passed?” “The easy ones,” he says. “First hug, first date, first fight, first time we slept together, although I wasn’t the one sleeping. Now we barely have any left. First kiss. First time to sleep together when we’re both actually awake. First marriage. First kid. We’re done after that. Our lives will become mundane and boring and I’ll have to divorce you and marry a wife who’s twenty years younger than me so I can have a lot more firsts and you’ll be stuck raising the kids.” He bring his hand to my cheek and smile at me. “So you see, babe? I’m only doing this for your benefit. The longer I wait to kiss you, the longer it’ll be before I’m forced to leave you high and dry.

Oh man. You have it just as bad, huh?" She hugs me and I nod. [...] Jenna looks like she's debating something when she whispers, "I don't want to make you feel bad about this because I know you had a lot going on, but he sang this song for you last weekend." But I wasn't there. Shit. As the weight of that sinks in, I'm overwhelmed. He was going to tell me he loved me first.

You don’t have to spend a lot of money to feel like a million. A good night’s sleep, a quiet walk by the river or a hug from a favorite person will do the trick.

You move, I want to fuck you. You smile, I want to hug you. You challenge me, I want to kill you. There is no in-between with you. I love you so much I hate you.

I’d felt this before, when my granddad was in the hospital before he died. We all camped out in the waiting room, eating our meals together, most of us sleeping in the chairs every night. Family from far-flung places would arrive at odd hours and we’d all stand and stretch, hug, get reacquainted, and pass the babies around. A faint, pale stream of beauty and joy flowed through the heavy sludge of fear and grief. It was kind of like those puddles of oil you see in parking lots that look ugly until the sun hits them and you see rainbows pulling together in the middle of the mess. And wasn’t that just how life usually felt—a confusing swirl of ugly and rainbow?

Dear Yesteryear, I do not feel alone anymore. I have found love. Maybe I should say love has found me. Well, to be fair, we found each other. Yesterday, I didn’t have a home. Yesterday, I didn’t have a pillow where I could lay my head. Yesterday, it was hard to find peace. Yesterday, I wondered if morning would ever come. Yesterday, I was unable to love, dream, and trust. Yesterday, I didn’t understand life. Yesterday, I was walking in my shadow. I didn’t know if I had meaning or a purpose. I am healing from my yesteryears. However, I am still rough around the edges and still have a lot to learn. I used to be so empty inside, but now I have lovely people to fill my no-longer-empty arms. Yesterday, my path was different. I was confused, not knowing if I should go right or left— move forward or turn around. I do not know what life has in store, but I know for a fact that I do not have to worry about the deadly and narrow path anymore. Yesterday, my sun was blocked by my shadows and everything thing else that came along that didn’t serve me. However, today, the sun is shining brighter than it ever has in my entire life. Yesterday, I will never forget you. You’ve taught me many lessons. I was taught lessons that a young person should never experience or even know about. Some lessons in life leave permitted marks. There have been many lessons I’ve learned that have left so many scars on my heart, but life goes on. I use to be overwhelmed by hate, disbelief, and not knowing if I was going to make it. Now, I am surrounded by warm hugs, smiles, love, and peace. Yesteryear, you will never be forgotten. I am healing, and it is a beautiful thing.

My mother wasn’t a psychotic criminal. (Kiara) No. I’m sure she was a wonderful lady who loved you dearly. That she held you when you cried, probably even baked you cookies and gave you hugs and kisses before she sent you off to bed at night, and it’s a damn shame a decent woman like her died so tragically. My mother, whore that she was, abandoned me and my sister to our father so that she could return to her cushy life and pretend we didn’t exist while she left us in that house with a man whose name, even though he’d been dead for decades, can still make an assassin wet his pants. And if you think his cruelty was reserved for strangers, think again. My sister and I were target practice for him. So don’t you dare talk to me about pain. My father wrote the book on it and he rammed it down my throat every day of my childhood until they killed him. And the real kicker is, my life under his demented fist was a lot better than Nykyrian’s. At least I was able to hide sometimes from the ones trying to kill me. You want me to call your daddy, baby? Go right ahead. I’ll be more than happy to take you to him. But know that Aksel will have his hands on you in a matter of hours. Then you’ll be able to talk to me about pain and you’ll finally have an idea of what we’ve endured. You won’t live long enough to apologize, but true clarity will be yours before you die. (Syn)

Sometimes I can’t tell if you hate this place or love it.” “I love its potential. I hate its past. And I don’t like what it is.” She hugs her knees close to her chest. “The way you feel about the place you grew up in is a lot like how you feel about your family.” “How’s that?” She thinks about it for a long time. “Like isn’t the same thing as love.

Having lots of kids doesn't mean they don't get as much love; you simply kiss more lips, hug more little bodies, read more stories, answer more questions and marvel at more uniqueness. As Rachel Jankovic says, "It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for.

Dear Friend, I hope it is alright that I address you in such a manner. I figured if you are a friend of Ashlyn, then you are a friend of mine. I wish we had a chance to meet under better circumstances, but the whole dying thing really puts a damper on my ability to make a great first impression. So what I want to say is thank you. Thank you for befriending a girl who is probably very broken but at the same time so amazingly perfect. Thank you for befriending a girl who is probably a little different and quotes too many books. Thank you for befriending a girl who doesn’t talk about her feelings a lot, but trust me, she feels everything. Thank you for being there for her. So now, I promise you that I’ll be there for you, too. I don’t know how. And I probably shouldn’t make those kinds of promises…yet just know that when you see the winds whistling through the flowers, that’s me thanking you and hugging you during your darkest days. Thank you, friend. You’re doing great. ~ Gabrielle

My girl got sick. She was constantly nervous because of problems at work, personal life, her failures and children. She lost 30 pounds and weighted about 90 pounds. She got very skinny and was constantly crying. She was not a happy woman. She had suffered from continuing headaches, heart pain and jammed nerves in her back and ribs. She did not sleep well, falling asleep only in the mornings and got tired very quickly during the day. Our relationship was on the verge of a break up. Her beauty was leaving her somewhere, she had bags under her eyes, she was poking her head, and stopped taking care of herself. She refused to shoot the films and rejected any role. I lost hope and thought that we’ll get separated soon… But then I decided to act. After all I’ve got the MOST Beautiful Woman on earth. She is the idol of more than half of men and women on earth, and I was the one allowed to fall asleep next to her and to hug her. I began to shower her with flowers, kisses and compliments. I surprised and pleased her every minute. I gave her a lot of gifts and lived just for her. I spoke in public only about her. I incorporated all themes in her direction. I praised her in front of her own and our mutual friends. You won’t believe it, but she blossomed. She became better. She gained weight, was no longer nervous and loved me even more than ever. I had no clue that she CAN love that much. And then I realized one thing: the woman is the reflection of her man. If you love her to the point of madness, she will become it.

Gustavo Tiberius speaking." “It’s so weird you do that, man,” Casey said, sounding amused. “Every time I call.” “It’s polite,” Gus said. “Just because you kids these days don’t have proper phone etiquette.” “Oh boy, there’s the Grumpy Gus I know. You miss me?” Gus was well aware the others could hear the conversation loud and clear. He was also aware he had a reputation to maintain. “Hadn’t really thought about it.” “Really.” “Yes.” “Gus.” “Casey.” “I miss you.” “I miss you too,” Gus mumbled into the phone, blushing fiercely. “Yeah? How much?” Gus was in hell. “A lot,” he said truthfully. “There have been allegations made against my person of pining and moping. False allegations, mind you, but allegations nonetheless.” “I know what you mean,” Casey said. “The guys were saying the same thing about me.” Gus smiled. “How embarrassing for you.” “Completely. You have no idea.” “They’re going to get you packed up this week?” “Ah, yeah. Sure. Something like that.” “Casey.” “Yes, Gustavo.” “You’re being cagey.” “I have no idea what you mean. Hey, that’s a nice Hawaiian shirt you’ve got on. Pink? I don’t think I’ve seen you in that color before.” Gus shrugged. “Pastor Tommy had a shitload of them. I think I could wear one every day for the rest of the year and not repeat. I think he may have had a bit of a….” Gus trailed off when his hand started shaking. Then, “How did you know what I was wearing?” There was a knock on the window to the Emporium. Gus looked up. Standing on the sidewalk was Casey. He was wearing bright green skinny jeans and a white and red shirt that proclaimed him to be a member of the 1987 Pasadena Bulldogs Women’s Softball team. He looked ridiculous. And like the greatest thing Gus had ever seen. Casey wiggled his eyebrows at Gus. “Hey, man.” “Hi,” Gus croaked. “Come over here, but stay on the phone, okay?” Gus didn’t even argue, unable to take his eyes off Casey. He hadn’t expected him for another week, but here he was on a pretty Saturday afternoon, standing outside the Emporium like it was no big deal. Gus went to the window, and Casey smiled that lazy smile. He said, “Hi.” Gus said, “Hi.” “So, I’ve spent the last two days driving back,” Casey said. “Tried to make it a surprise, you know?” “I’m very surprised,” Gus managed to say, about ten seconds away from busting through the glass just so he could hug Casey close. The smile widened. “Good. I’ve had some time to think about things, man. About a lot of things. And I came to this realization as I drove past Weed, California. Gus. It was called Weed, California. It was a sign.” Gus didn’t even try to stop the eye roll. “Oh my god.” “Right? Kismet. Because right when I entered Weed, California, I was thinking about you and it hit me. Gus, it hit me.” “What did?” Casey put his hand up against the glass. Gus did the same on his side. “Hey, Gus?” “Yeah?” “I’m going to ask you a question, okay?” Gustavo’s throat felt very dry. “Okay.” “What was the Oscar winner for Best Song in 1984?” Automatically, Gus answered, “Stevie Wonder for the movie The Woman in Red. The song was ‘I Just Called to Say I Love You.’” It was fine, of course. Because he knew answers to all those things. He didn’t know why Casey wanted to— And then he could barely breathe. Casey’s smile wobbled a little bit. “Okay?” Gus blinked the burn away. He nodded as best he could. And Casey said, “Yeah, man. I love you too.” Gus didn’t even care that he dropped his phone then. All that mattered was getting as close to Casey as humanely possible. He threw open the door to the Emporium and suddenly found himself with an armful of hipster. Casey laughed wetly into his neck and Gus just held on as hard as he could. He thought that it was possible that he might never be in a position to let go. For some reason, that didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Rea­sons Why I Loved Be­ing With Jen I love what a good friend you are. You’re re­ally en­gaged with the lives of the peo­ple you love. You or­ga­nize lovely ex­pe­ri­ences for them. You make an ef­fort with them, you’re pa­tient with them, even when they’re side­tracked by their chil­dren and can’t pri­or­i­tize you in the way you pri­or­i­tize them. You’ve got a gen­er­ous heart and it ex­tends to peo­ple you’ve never even met, whereas I think that ev­ery­one is out to get me. I used to say you were naive, but re­ally I was jeal­ous that you al­ways thought the best of peo­ple. You are a bit too anx­ious about be­ing seen to be a good per­son and you def­i­nitely go a bit over­board with your left-wing pol­i­tics to prove a point to ev­ery­one. But I know you re­ally do care. I know you’d sign pe­ti­tions and help peo­ple in need and vol­un­teer at the home­less shel­ter at Christ­mas even if no one knew about it. And that’s more than can be said for a lot of us. I love how quickly you read books and how ab­sorbed you get in a good story. I love watch­ing you lie on the sofa read­ing one from cover-to-cover. It’s like I’m in the room with you but you’re in a whole other gal­axy. I love that you’re al­ways try­ing to im­prove your­self. Whether it’s running marathons or set­ting your­self chal­lenges on an app to learn French or the fact you go to ther­apy ev­ery week. You work hard to be­come a bet­ter ver­sion of your­self. I think I prob­a­bly didn’t make my ad­mi­ra­tion for this known and in­stead it came off as ir­ri­ta­tion, which I don’t re­ally feel at all. I love how ded­i­cated you are to your fam­ily, even when they’re an­noy­ing you. Your loy­alty to them wound me up some­times, but it’s only be­cause I wish I came from a big fam­ily. I love that you al­ways know what to say in con­ver­sa­tion. You ask the right ques­tions and you know ex­actly when to talk and when to lis­ten. Ev­ery­one loves talk­ing to you be­cause you make ev­ery­one feel im­por­tant. I love your style. I know you think I prob­a­bly never no­ticed what you were wear­ing or how you did your hair, but I loved see­ing how you get ready, sit­ting in front of the full-length mir­ror in our bed­room while you did your make-up, even though there was a mir­ror on the dress­ing ta­ble. I love that you’re mad enough to swim in the English sea in No­vem­ber and that you’d pick up spi­ders in the bath with your bare hands. You’re brave in a way that I’m not. I love how free you are. You’re a very free per­son, and I never gave you the sat­is­fac­tion of say­ing it, which I should have done. No one knows it about you be­cause of your bor­ing, high-pres­sure job and your stuffy up­bring­ing, but I know what an ad­ven­turer you are un­der­neath all that. I love that you got drunk at Jack­son’s chris­ten­ing and you al­ways wanted to have one more drink at the pub and you never com­plained about get­ting up early to go to work with a hang­over. Other than Avi, you are the per­son I’ve had the most fun with in my life. And even though I gave you a hard time for al­ways try­ing to for al­ways try­ing to im­press your dad, I ac­tu­ally found it very adorable be­cause it made me see the child in you and the teenager in you, and if I could time-travel to any­where in his­tory, I swear, Jen, the only place I’d want to go is to the house where you grew up and hug you and tell you how beau­ti­ful and clever and funny you are. That you are spec­tac­u­lar even with­out all your sports trophies and mu­sic cer­tifi­cates and in­cred­i­ble grades and Ox­ford ac­cep­tance. I’m sorry that I loved you so much more than I liked my­self, that must have been a lot to carry. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you the way you took care of me. And I’m sorry I didn’t take care of my­self, ei­ther. I need to work on it. I’m pleased that our break-up taught me that. I’m sorry I went so mental. I love you. I always will. I'm glad we met.

Why weren't there any women in Jesus' gang?’ asked Winnifred. ‘Jesus' gang?’ echoed the vicar surprised. ‘Jesus never had a gang. Ah— you mean the Twelve.’ Winnifred nodded. The vicar looked perplexed. ‘Well, it wouldn't really have been appropriate, would it?’ ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘It just wouldn't,’ replied the vicar, looking annoyed at my question. ‘But Jesus had a lot of girl friends,’ said Pearl. ‘He certainly didn't,’ replied the vicar, shocked. ‘But Vicar, what about Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus? The Bible says that Jesus loved them,’ insisted Pearl. ‘And then there was Mary Magdalene,’ I added. ‘She wanted to hug him in Joseph's garden when he had just come out of the tomb, but Jesus told her not to touch him.’ ‘Yes— well—’ said the vicar uncertainly. ‘They were good followers of Jesus and they loved him— as we should all love him. No more questions now. We will be starting the service shortly.’ ‘Not very helpful,’ I whispered to Winnifred. ‘If Jesus had had a few women in his group of twelve, it would be much easier to know how to live with them.

The end of this short story could be a rather disturbing thing, if it came true. I hope you like it, and if you do, be sure to COMMENT and SHARE. Paradoxes of Destiny? Dani! My boy! Are you all right? Where are you? Have you hurt yourself? Are you all right? Daniiii! Why won’t you answer? It’s so cold and dark here. I can’t see a thing… It’s so silent. Dani? Can you hear me? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving… I shouldn’t have done it! I'm so stupid sometimes! Son, are you all right?... We really wrecked the car when we rolled it! I can’t see or hear a thing… Am I in hospital? Am I dead…? Dani? Your silence is killing me… Are you all right?! I can see a glimmer of light. I feel trapped. Dani, are you there? I can’t move. It’s like I’m wrapped in this mossy green translucent plastic. I have to get out of here. The light is getting more and more intense. I think I can tear the wrapping that’s holding me in. I'm almost out. The light is blinding me. What a strange place. I've never seen anything like it. It doesn’t look like Earth. Am I dead? On another planet? Oh God, look at those hideous monsters! They’re so creepy and disgusting! They look like extraterrestrials. They’re aliens! I'm on another planet! I can’t believe it. I need to get the hell out here. Those monsters are going to devour me. I have to get away. I’m so scared. Am I floating? Am I flying? I’m going to go higher to try to escape. I can’t see the aliens anymore and the landscape looks less terrifying. I think I've made it. It’s very windy. Is that a highway? I think I can see some vehicles down there. Could they be the extraterrestrials’ transport? I’m going to go down a bit. I see people! Am I on Earth? Could this be a parallel universe? Where could Dani be? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving. I shouldn’t… That tower down there looks a lot like the water tank in my town… It’s identical. But the water tank in my town doesn’t have that huge tower block next to it. It all looks very similar to my neighborhood, but it isn’t exactly the same: there are a lot of tower blocks here. There’s the river… and the factory. It’s definitely my neighborhood, but it looks kind of different. I must be in a parallel universe… It’s amazing that I can float. People don’t seem to notice my presence. Am I a ghost? I have to get back home and see if Dani’s there. God, I hope he’s safe and sound. Gabriela must be out of her mind with the crash. There’s my house! Home sweet home. And whose are those cars? The front of the house has been painted a different color… This is all so strange! There’s someone in the garden… Those trees I planted in the spring have really grown. Is… is that… Dani? Yes, yes! It’s Dani. But he looks so different… He looks older, he looks… like a big boy! What’s important is that he’s OK. I need to hug him tight and tell him how much I love him. Can he see me if I’m a ghost? I'll go up to him slowly so I don’t scare him. I need to hold him tight. He can’t see me, I won’t get any closer. He moved his head, I think he’s started to realize I’m here… Wow I’m so hungry all of a sudden! I can’t stop! How are you doing, son?! It’s me! Your dad! My dear boy? I can’t stop! I'm too hungry! Ahhhh, so delicious! What a pleasure! Nooo Daniii! Nooooo!.... I’m your daaaad!... Splat!... “Mum, bring the insect repellent, the garden’s full of mosquitoes,” grunted Daniel as he wiped the blood from the palm of his hand on his trousers. Gabriela was just coming out. She did an about turn and went back into her house, and shouted “Darling, bring the insect repellent, it’s on the fireplace…” Absolute cold and silence… THE END (1) This note is for those who have read EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY. This story is a spin-off of the novel EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY and revolves around Letus’s curious theories about the possibility of animal reincarnation.

As we were wrapping up the book, I sat down and thought about all the lessons I’d learned over the past two years. I couldn’t list them all, but here are a few: Never complain about the price of a gift from your spouse--accept it with love and gratitude. You can’t put a price on romance. Take lots of videos, even of the mundane. You will forget the sound of your children’s voices and you will miss your youth as much as theirs. Celebrate every wedding anniversary. Make time for dates. Hug your spouse every single morning. And always, ALWAYS, say “I love you.” Believe in your partner. When you hit hard times as a couple, take a weekend away or at least a night out. The times that you least feel like doing it are likely the times that you need it the most. Write love notes to your spouse, your children, and keep the ones they give you. Don’t expect a miniature pig to be an “easy” pet. Live life looking forward with a goal of no regrets, so you can look back without them. Be the friend you will need some day. Often the most important thing you can do for another person is just showing up. Question less and listen more. Don’t get too tied up in your plans for the future. No one really knows their future anyway. Laugh at yourself, and with life. People don’t change their core character. Be humble, genuine, and gracious. Before you get into business with someone, look at their history. Expect them to be with you for the long haul, even if you don’t think they will be. If they aren’t someone you could take a road trip across the country with, don’t do business with them in the first place. Real families and real sacrifices live in the fabric of the Red, White, and Blue; stand for the national anthem.

They kissed gently, and Bastien pulled back and eyed her. “So, what are you doing for the next forty to fifty years?” “Hmm.” Terri smiled. “Actually, I don’t have any plans at the moment. I just quit my job and sold my cottage, so I’m rather at loose ends.” “Yeah?” He grinned. “Would you care to spend them with me?” “I thought you’d never ask,” Terri said with a smile. “Hmm.” His expression turned solemn, telling her what was coming was important to him. Bastien brushed one finger down her cheek, then asked, “Would you care to make it four to five hundred years or more? There’s a lot to do in this world, and it would be nice to do it all together.” Terri raised a hand to caress his cheek in return, and nodded. “I think I’d like that.” Bastien let his breath out on a sigh and hugged her tight. “Damn, woman. I love you.” Terri laughed as tears pooled in her eyes. “And I love you.

His grip on the wheel tightened as we left the limits of DC and reached the beltway. Through the blur of rain pelting the windows, we could just make out the shapes of the new highway lights and cameras that would be installed over the next few months. Right now, though, our only real sources of light were the car itself and the glow of the capital's light pollution. "Did I really always side with him?" I wondered aloud "I swear I didn't mean to...." Chubs risked a quick glance at me, then fixed his eyes back on the road. "It's not about choosing sides. I shouldn't have ever said that. I'm sorry. You know how I get when my blood sugar is low. He's Lee–he's funny and nice and he dresses like a walking hug." He does wear a lot of flannel," I said. But you're those things, too. Don't make that face just to try to prove me wrong. You are." "I don't feel that way," he admitted. "But I always got that you guys had something different. I respect that. I've never been... It's harder for me to open up to people." The headlights caught the raindrops sliding off the windshield and made them glow like shooting tars. He was making it sound like one friendship was better or more important than the other. That wasn't true. They were just different. The love was exactly the same. They only difference was that Liam had lost a little sister; a part of me had always felt like he wanted to prove to himself that he could save at least one of us. "I always understood you," I told him. "Just like you always understood me.

The monstrous versions of himself and Hermione were gone: There was only Ron, standing there with the sword held slackly in his hand, looking down at the shattered remains of the locket on the flat rock. Slowly, Harry walked back to him, hardly knowing what to say or do. Ron was breathing heavily: His eyes were no longer red at all, but their normal blue; they were also wet. Harry stooped, pretending he had not seen, and picked up the broken Horcrux. Ron had pierced the glass in both windows: Riddle’s eyes were gone, and the stained silk lining of the locket was smoking slightly. The thing that had lived in the Horcrux had vanished; torturing Ron had been its final act. The sword clanged as Ron dropped it. He had sunk to his knees, his head in his arms. He was shaking, but not, Harry realized, from cold. Harry crammed the broken locket into his pocket, knelt down beside Ron, and placed a hand cautiously on his shoulder. He took it as a good sign that Ron did not throw it off. “After you left,” he said in a low voice, grateful for the fact that Ron’s face was hidden, “she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn’t want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone…” He could not finish; it was only now that Ron was here again that Harry fully realized how much his absence had cost them. “She’s like my sister,” he went on. “I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It’s always been like that. I thought you knew.” Ron did not respond, but turned his face away from Harry and wiped his nose noisily on his sleeve. Harry got to his feet again and walked to where Ron’s enormous rucksack lay yards away, discarded as Ron had run toward the pool to save Harry from drowning. He hoisted it onto his own back and walked back to Ron, who clambered to his feet as Harry approached, eyes bloodshot but otherwise composed. “I’m sorry,” he said in a thick voice. “I’m sorry I left. I know I was a--a--” He looked around at the darkness, as if hoping a bad enough word would swoop down upon him and claim him. “You’ve sort of made up for it tonight,” said Harry. “Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life.” “That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was,” Ron mumbled. “Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was,” said Harry. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.” Simultaneously they walked forward and hugged, Harry gripping the still-sopping back of Ron’s jacket. “And now,” said Harry as they broke apart, “all we’ve got to do is find the tent again.

Everyone's here except for St. Clair." Meredith cranes her neck around the cafeteria. "He's usually running late." "Always," Josh corrects. "Always running late." I clear my throat. "I think I met him last night. In the hallway." "Good hair and an English accent?" Meredith asks. "Um.Yeah.I guess." I try to keep my voice casual. Josh smirks. "Everyone's in luuurve with St. Clair." "Oh,shut up," Meredith says. "I'm not." Rashmi looks at me for the first time, calculating whether or not I might fall in love with her own boyfriend. He lets go of her hand and gives an exaggerated sigh. "Well,I am. I'm asking him to prom. This is our year, I just know it." "This school has a prom?" I ask. "God no," Rashmi says. "Yeah,Josh. You and St. Clair would look really cute in matching tuxes." "Tails." The English accent makes Meredith and me jump in our seats. Hallway boy. Beautiful boy. His hair is damp from the rain. "I insist the tuxes have tails, or I'm giving your corsage to Steve Carver instead." "St. Clair!" Josh springs from his seat, and they give each other the classic two-thumps-on-the-back guy hug. "No kiss? I'm crushed,mate." "Thought it might miff the ol' ball and chain. She doesn't know about us yet." "Whatever," Rashi says,but she's smiling now. It's a good look for her. She should utilize the corners of her mouth more often. Beautiful Hallway Boy (Am I supposed to call him Etienne or St. Clair?) drops his bag and slides into the remaining seat between Rashmi and me. "Anna." He's surprised to see me,and I'm startled,too. He remembers me. "Nice umbrella.Could've used that this morning." He shakes a hand through his hair, and a drop lands on my bare arm. Words fail me. Unfortunately, my stomach speaks for itself. His eyes pop at the rumble,and I'm alarmed by how big and brown they are. As if he needed any further weapons against the female race. Josh must be right. Every girl in school must be in love with him. "Sounds terrible.You ought to feed that thing. Unless..." He pretends to examine me, then comes in close with a whisper. "Unless you're one of those girls who never eats. Can't tolerate that, I'm afraid. Have to give you a lifetime table ban." I'm determined to speak rationally in his presence. "I'm not sure how to order." "Easy," Josh says. "Stand in line. Tell them what you want.Accept delicious goodies. And then give them your meal card and two pints of blood." "I heard they raised it to three pints this year," Rashmi says. "Bone marrow," Beautiful Hallway Boy says. "Or your left earlobe." "I meant the menu,thank you very much." I gesture to the chalkboard above one of the chefs. An exquisite cursive hand has written out the morning's menu in pink and yellow and white.In French. "Not exactly my first language." "You don't speak French?" Meredith asks. "I've taken Spanish for three years. It's not like I ever thought I'd be moving to Paris." "It's okay," Meredith says quickly. "A lot of people here don't speak French." "But most of them do," Josh adds. "But most of them not very well." Rashmi looks pointedly at him. "You'll learn the lanaguage of food first. The language of love." Josh rubs his belly like a shiny Buddha. "Oeuf. Egg. Pomme. Apple. Lapin. Rabbit." "Not funny." Rashmi punches him in the arm. "No wonder Isis bites you. Jerk." I glance at the chalkboard again. It's still in French. "And, um, until then?" "Right." Beautiful Hallway Boy pushes back his chair. "Come along, then. I haven't eaten either." I can't help but notice several girls gaping at him as we wind our way through the crowd.

WhatsApp forwards about love and kindness. I wonder if on a Sunday morning all these enthusiastic do-gooders could send out truly helpful things like ‘11 cures for a hangover’ or ‘How to clean puke stains from your dress’. I have no such luck; all I get are strange messages like ‘Little memories can last for years’. Very useful when you are trying hard to forget all the embarrassing things you did the night before. Do I really need messages saying, ‘A little hug can wipe out a big tear’ or ‘Friendship is a rainbow’? There is also a message saying, ‘God blues you’, which I am trying to guess could mean that either God wants to bless me, rule me or make a blue movie with me. Has it ever happened that a murderer just before committing his crime gets a message stating, ‘Life is about loving’, and stops in his tracks, or a banker reads ‘No greater sin than cheating’, and quits his job? So, what do these messages really do? I think they allow lazy people to think that they are doing a good deed in the easiest possible manner by sending these daft bits of information out into the universe. Go out there! Sweep a pavement, plant a tree, feed a stray dog. Do something, anything; rather than just using your fingers to tap three keys and destroy 600 people’s brain cells in one shot. 11 a.m.: This is turning out to be a hectic day. The

Somebody reported my book bag!” he says. “My promposal got fucked.” I take the teddy bear out of his bag and hug it to my chest. I’m so happy I don’t even tell him not to cuss. “I love it.” “You were going to turn the corner, and see the book bag right here by the telescopes. Then you were going to pick up the bear, and squeeze it, and--” “How was I going to know to squeeze it?” I ask. Peter pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of the bag. It says, Squeeze Me. “It fell off when the security guard was manhandling it. See? I thought of everything.” Everything except the ramifications of leaving an unattended bag in a public place in New York City, but still! It’s the thought that counts, and the thought is the sweetest. I squeeze the bear, and again he says, “Will you go to prom with me, Lara Jean?” “Yes, I will, Howard.” Howard is, of course, the name of the bear from Sleepless in Seattle. “Why are you saying yes to him and not to me?” Peter demands. “Because he asked.” I raise my eyebrows at him and wait. Rolling his eyes, Peter mumbles, “Lara Jean, will you go to prom with me? God, you really do ask for a lot.” I hold the bear out to him. “I will, but first kiss Howard.” “Covey. No. Hell, no.” “Please!” I give him a pleading look. “It’s in the movie, Peter.” And grumbling, he does it, in front of everybody, which is how I know he is utterly and completely mine.

Because here’s the thing. We can do a lot in thirty-five days.” He sat on the bed and pulled her down next to him. “I mean, think about books and movies. You can watch a great love story in two hours, right? Or read one in maybe two days? So imagine what we can do with thirty-five. We can celebrate a whole year of holidays. We can lock the door at night and turn the music up and memorize each other. We can taste and smell and touch every single thing we love about this whole town, so we never forget, no matter who we turn into out there.” He hugged her hands tightly with his. “And then when it’s time to leave each other, we’ll go off smiling into the future, and we won’t be distracted by all that ‘when will I find true love’ stuff people always worry about because they don’t know how it feels. Because we’ll already know how it feels. And if neither one of us ever gets another great love story, this one will be enough to last our whole entire lives.

All they told me was that he was forty-two when he died. I just wanted...to find out more about what kind of person he was. I could tell you more, amanda thought to herself. A lot more. She'd suspected the truth since Morgan Tanner had called, and she'd made some calls to confirm her suspicions. Dawson, she'd learned, had been taking off life support at CarolinaEast Regional Medical Center late Monday night. He's been kept alive long after doctors knew he would never recover, because he was an organ donor. Dawson, she knews, had saved Alan's life-but in the end, he'd saved Jared's as well. And for that meant...everything. I gave you the best of me, he'd told her once, and with every beat of her son's heart, she knew he'd done exactly that. How about a quick hug," she said, "before we go inside?" Jared rolled his eyes, but he opened his arms anyway. "I love you, Mom," he mumbled, pulling her close. Amanda closed her eyes, feeling the steady rhythm in his chest. "I love you, too.

All right, now that the weirdness between us has caused actual physical damage, I think it’s time we talked it out, don’t you?” He gave a half smile and then turned back to the path. “We don’t need to be weird,” he said. “These past few days, since the thing with Elodie, I’ve been thinking.” He took a deep breath, and I knew that this was one of those rare occasions when Cal was about to say a lot of words at once. “I like you, Sophie. A lot. For a while, I thought it might be more than that. But you love Cross.” He said it matter-of-factly, but I still caught the way his ears reddened. “I know I’ve said some pretty awful stuff about him, but…I was wrong. He’s a good guy. So, I guess what I’m saying is that as the guy who’s betrothed to you, I wish we could be more than friends.” He stopped, turning around to face me. “But as your friend, I want you to be happy. And if Cross is who you want, then I’m not gonna stand in the way of that.” “I’m the worst fiancé ever, aren’t I?” Cal lifted one shoulder. “Nah. This one warlock I knew, his betrothed set him on fire.” Laughing so I wouldn’t cry, I tentatively lifted my arms to hug him. He folded me against his chest, and there was no awkwardness between us, and I knew the warmth in the pit of my stomach was love. Just a different kind. Sniffling, I pulled back and rubbed at my nose. “Okay, now that the hard part’s over, let’s go tackle the Underworld.” “Got room for two more?” Startled, I turned to see Jenna and Archer standing on the path, Jenna’s hand clutching Archer’s sleeve as she tried to stay on her feet. “What?” was all I could say. Archer took a few careful steps forward. “Hey, this has been a group effort so far. No reason to stop now.” “You guys can’t go into the Underworld with me,” I told them. “You heard Dad, I’m the only one with-“ “With powers strong enough. Yeah, we got that,” Jenna said. “But how are you supposed to carry a whole bunch of demonglass out of that place? It’ll burn you. And hey, maybe your powers will be strong enough to get all of us in, too.” She gestured to herself and the boys. “Plus it’s not like we don’t have powers of our own.” I knew I should tell them to go back. But having the three of them there made me feel a whole lot better and whole lot less terrified. So in the end, I gave an exaggerated sign and said, “Okay, fine. But just so you know, following me into hell means you’re all definitely the sidekicks.” “Darn, I was hoping to be the rakishly charming love interest,” Archer said, taking my hand. “Cal, any role you want?” I asked him, and he looked ruefully at the craggy rock looming over us. As he did, there was the grinding sound of stone against stone. We all stared at the opening that appeared. “I’m just hoping to be the Not Dead Guy,” Cal muttered. We faced the entrance. “Between the four of us, we fought ghouls, survived attacks by demons and L’Occhio di Dio, and practically raised the dead,” I said. “We can do this.” “See, inspiring speeches like that are why you get to be the leader,” Archer said, and he squeezed my hand. And then, moving almost as one, we stepped into the rock.

All the visitors do make an effort to look their best and it's very tender, it's sweet as hell, the way the women wear their prettiest everything, I mean the old ones and the really poor ones too, they make the dearest effort to look nice and smell nice too, and I love them for it. I love the kids too, especially the colored ones. I mean the kids the wives bring. It should be sad, seeing the kids there, but it isn't, they have ribbons in their hair and lots of shine on their shoes, you'd think there was going to be ice cream; and sometimes that's what it's like in the visitors' room, a party. Anyway, it's not like the movies: you know, grim whisperings through a grille. There isn't any grille, just a counter between you and them, and the kids can stand on it to be hugged; all you have to do to kiss somebody is lean across. What I like most, they're so happy to see each other, they've saved up so much to talk about, it isn't possible to be dull, they keep laughing and holding hands. It's different afterwards," she said. "I see them on the train. They sit so quiet watching the river go by.

This is all part of having a teenager, trust me. My girls think they know every darn thing there is to know.” “So how do you stay patient?” Logan asked. Angela lifted her glass. “Lots of Merlot. But really, it’s hard sometimes. You just want to shake them and stop them from making mistakes you can see coming a mile away. I remind myself that it’s my job to love them through all their mistakes. Hug them when they need it, and especially when they think they don’t. Because they sure need all the hugs and patience we can give them. Even when they’re bein’ assholes. Especially then.

Hi, Auntie Sam,” Hope greets her with a smile. “I was hopin’ you’d be here. Me and Mama created a special auntie pie we’re gonna make just for you.” “You did?” Sam asks excitedly and carries Hope over to where Grace stands so she can hug her, too. “Yeah, it’s called Pain In The Ass Pie,” I say with a smirk, earning a glare from her. My mom smacks my shoulder. “Watch your mouth. Especially in front of the kids.” “Don’t worry, Grandma. We’ve heard him say much worse,” Parker tells her, throwing me under the bus. “Yeah,” Hope joins in. “We make a lot of money in the swear jar ’cause of him. Ain’t that right, Mama?

Like Alan, Jep turned his life around after overcoming the struggles of alcohol and drugs. He came to work for Duck Commander and found his niche as a videographer. He films the footage for our Duckmen videos and works with Willie on the Buck Commander videos. Jep is with us on nearly every hunt, filming the action from a distance. He knows exactly what we’re looking for in the videos and films it, downloads it, edits it, and sends it to the duplicator, who produces and distributes our DVDs. Having worked with the crew of Duck Dynasty over the last few years, I’ve noticed that most people who work in the film industry are a little bit weird. And Jep, my youngest son, is a little strange. It’s his personality-he’s easygoing, likable, and a lot more reserved than his brothers. But he’s the only one who will come up to me and give me a bear hug. He’ll just walk up and say, “Daddy, I need a hug.” The good news for Jep is that as far as the Duck Commander crowd goes, one thing is for sure: weirdos are in! We covet weirdos; they can do things we can’t because they’re so strange. You have to have two or three weirdos in your company to make it work. It’s truly been a blessing to watch Jep grow and mature and become a loving husband and father. He and his wife, Jessica, have four beautiful children.

Marcus’ lips curved into a half smile. “I don’t agree with a lot of the decisions you’ve made or the fact that both of you have kept very important things from me, but I cannot blame Aiden for doing what I would’ve done in the same situation. I’m your uncle, Alexandria, and I will be tough on you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.” Stunned into silence, I stared at him. Could I’ve totally misinterpreted everything about this man? Because I seriously would’ve bet my life that he couldn’t stand me. But had it just been his version of… tough love? Blinking back tears, I suddenly wanted to hug him. The look on Marcus’ face told me he probably wouldn’t be comfortable with that.

Diana came over to see us off the morning we left for the airport. The four of us stood in our lower hallway saying good-bye with lots of hugs and good wishes. Diana and I were both in tears, as she held Patrick close and said she would miss him “tremendously.” We promised to write to each other and keep up our friendship. Not until later would Diana realize that the past year of being on her own in London and caring for Patrick would be, as she was to say, “the happiest year of my life.” I hugged her and assured her, “We’ll think of you every day and pray for good news from London soon. But,” I continued, “we care very much for you and will help you in any way we can, whatever happens.

Nothing had changed in that moment when Violet and Jay had finally decided to have sex. Nothing-and everything. Violet was amazed by what they’d done. Amazed that they’d shared themselves with each other, like that. It was wonderful, and beautiful, and not anything that Violet had expected it to be. The pain had been more intense than she could have imagined, and she’d done her best not to cry out. But, of course, Jay had noticed as her body tensed, and then she shuddered. Tears dampened her lashes, yet she’d refused to let them fall. Jay had insisted that they stop, but Violet wouldn’t let him. Instead they’d waited, with Jay holding her, stroking her hair, her shoulders, her face, until the pain subsided, becoming something…less. Later, when she was lying in his arms, she shuddered again. Jay hugged her tight. “What’s wrong? You’re not sorry, are you?” The tenderness of his words made her heart twist. “Of course not. How could I be sorry for that?” He kissed her eyes, gently. “Then why are you shivering? I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vi.” She shook her head, clumsily bumping his chin. “I don’t know why.” She ran her fingertips over his arm, memorizing the feel of his coarse hairs, his skin, the muscles beneath it all. “It’s just…it’s a lot. You know?” Jay smiled. It was a satisfied smile. “Yeah.” He leaned back and pulled her to him, tucking her against his shoulder. “It was a lot. A really good lot.” She wanted to shove him, to banter, to play, but she was too exhausted. When Jay finally got up to leave, Violet leaned up on her elbow and watched as he buttoned his jeans. She wished they could stay like that-together-for longer. Forever. She already missed the feel of him beside her, and the scent of him around her. She sat up to give him back the T-shirt she was wearing. His lazy smile was far too beautiful to be real. “Keep it,” he insisted. “I like it better on you anyway.” The way he stared at her made her stomach flip. It was a look brimming with tenderness. They were a part of something more now; they belonged to each other. He tugged his hoodie over his bare chest, and then he leaned down to kiss her one last time, his lips lingering. His thumb traced the line of her cheek. “I love you, Violet Marie. I’ll always love you.” And then he left. And, once again, Violet slept deeply, soundly, wrapped in Jay’s shirt. He was the perfect remedy to all her worries.

She’d ask if I had a problem with her, or if I sensed awkwardness between us. She’d tell me how important I was to Joe and how special he thought I was. She would give me a series of hugs and repeatedly tell me that she hoped we’d be friends. We’d met at least five times, and she and Joe had been going out for over a year, yet she still believed there were declarations we had to make to each other in quiet corners of social situations. I had thought about why she did this a lot and, rather generously, had come to the conclusion that Lucy was a woman who’d watched too many structured reality TV shows. She evidently felt a party wasn’t a party until two women in peplum dresses clutched hands while one says: “After you slept with Ryan, I stopped liking you as a friend, but I will always love you like a sister.

Aunt Lotty had gone, and Laura and Mary were tired and cross. They were at the woodpile, gathering a pan of chips to kindle the fire in the morning. They always hated to pick up chips, but every day they had to do it. Tonight they hated it more than ever. Laura grabbed the biggest chip, and Mary said: “I don’t care. Aunt Lotty likes my hair best, anyway. Golden hair is lots prettier than brown.” Laura’s throat swelled tight, and she could not speak. She knew golden hair was prettier than brown. She couldn’t speak, so she reached out quickly and slapped Mary’s face. Then she heard Pa say, “Come here, Laura.” She went slowly, dragging her feet. Pa was sitting just inside the door. He had seen her slap Mary. “You remember,” Pa said, “I told you girls you must never strike each other.” Laura began, “But Mary said--” “That makes no difference,” said Pa. “It is what I say that you must mind.” Then he took down a strap from the wall, and he whipped Laura with the strap. Laura sat on a chair in the corner and sobbed. When she stopped sobbing, she sulked. The only thing in the whole world to be glad about was that Mary had to fill the chip pan all by herself. At last, when it was getting dark, Pa said again, “Come here, Laura.” His voice was kind, and when Laura came he took her on his knee and hugged her close. She sat in the crook of his arm, her head against his shoulder and his long brown whiskers partly covering her eyes, and everything was all right again. She told Pa all about it, and she asked him, “You don’t like golden hair better than brown, do you?” Pa’s blue eyes shone down at her, and he said, “Well, Laura, my hair is brown.” She had not thought of that. Pa’s hair was brown, and his whiskers were brown, and she thought brown was a lovely color. But she was glad that Mary had had to gather all the chips.

If you want something, ask for it. Another thing I learned while living with the Ballases was that if you want love or affection, sometimes you’ve just got to ask for it. This is tough for a lot of people. As adults, the fear of rejection or embarrassment often stops the words before you ever utter them. But leaders aren’t afraid to ask for what they want and need. Even if someone shoots you down, you’ve put it out there in the universe. I’d tease Nan or Shirley: “I’m feeling kind of down today, get over here and give me a hug, dammit.” And they did. The people who love you want to come through for you; you just sometimes need to make that easier by saying what you need. It isn’t selfish or bossy or demanding. It’s respecting yourself and your worth. I loved the freedom of not being afraid to just ask for something instead of waiting and being disappointed if it never came. Asking for something is simply the best way to ensure that you eventually get it.

Darice stepped forward like a respectful guard. “Do you need me to go with you, Sumi?” She hugged him. “I’ll be fine, sweetie. Thank you for offering, though. It means a lot to me to have such a fierce and noble protector.” When she started to release him, he held on to her. “Kimi asyado.” She glanced to Thia for the translation, but it was Fain who explained it. “He says that he loves you tremendously.” Sumi tightened her arms around him. “I love you, too, baby.” She placed a kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, she saw the tears in his eyes. “I’m an adult male now, Sumi. Not a baby.” “Yes, you are, Darice. And you’re a strong, beautiful male. You honor your ancestors and all of Andaria.” Darice smiled happily. “Damn,” Darling breathed as he joined them. “Whatever she has, we need to bottle it in droves.” Nykyrian scowled at him. “What are you talking about?” “First Hauk, now Darice. I’ve never seen anyone tame so many rowdy Andarions with nothing more than a smile. Just think, if we had that, we could rule them all.” Nykyrian pinned him with a wry stare. “I already rule them all.” “Oh yeah, there is that.” Syn

In ninety seconds they were naked and he was nibbling at her ear while his hand rubbed her pubic mat; but a saboteur was at work at his brain. 'I love you,' he thought, and it was not untrue because he loved all women now, knowing partially what sex was really all about, but he couldn't bring himself to say it because it was not totally true, either, since he loved Mavis more, much more. 'I'm awfully fond of you,' he almost said, but the absurdity of it stopped him. Her hand cupped his cock and found it limp; her eyes opened and looked into his enquiringly. He kissed her lips quickly and moved his hand lower, inserting a ringer until he found the clitoris. But even when her breathing got deeper, he did not respond as usual, and her hand began massaging his cock more desperately. He slid down, kissing nipples and bellybutton on the way, and began licking her clitoris. As soon as she came, he cupped her buttocks, lifted her pelvis, got his tongue into her vagina and forced another quick orgasm, immediately lowering her slightly again and beginning a very gentle and slow return in spiral fashion back to the clitoris. But still he was flaccid. 'Stop,' Stella breathed. 'Let me do you, baby.' George moved upward on the bed and hugged her. 'I love you,' he said, and suddenly it did not sound like a lie. Stella giggled and kissed his mouth briefly. 'It takes a lot to get those words out of you, doesn't it?' she said bemusedly. 'Honesty is the worst policy,' George said grimly. 'I was a child prodigy, you know? A freak. It was rugged. I had to have some defense, and somehow I picked honesty. I was always with older boys so I never won a fight. The only way I could feel superior, or escape total inferiority, was to be the most honest bastard on the planet earth.' 'So you can't say 'I love you' unless you mean it?' Stella laughed. 'You're probably the only man in America with that problem. If you could only be a woman for a while, baby! You can't imagine what liars most men are.' 'Oh, I've said it at times. When it was at least half true. But it always sounded like play-acting to me, and I felt it sounded that way to the woman, too. This time it just came out, perfectly natural, no effort.' 'That is something,' Stella grinned. 'And I can't let it go unrewarded.' Her black body slid downward and he enjoyed the esthetic effect as his eyes followed her— black on white, like the yinyang or the Sacred Chao—what was the psychoses of the white race that made this beauty seem ugly to most of them? Then her lips closed over his penis and he found that the words had loosened the knot: he was erect in a second. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation, then opened them to look down at her Afro hairdo, her serious dark face, his cock slipping back and forth between her lips. 'I love you,' he repeated, with even more conviction. 'Oh, Christ, Oh, Eris, oh baby baby, I love you!' He closed his eyes again, and let the Robot move his pelvis in response to her. 'Oh, stop,' he said, 'stop,' drawing her upward and turning her over, 'together,' he said, mounting her, 'together,' as her eyes closed when he entered her and then opened again for a moment meeting his in total tenderness, 'I love you, Stella, I love,' and he knew it was so far along that the weight wouldn't bother her, collapsing, using his arms to hug her, not supporting himself, belly to belly and breast to breast, her arms hugging him also and her voice saying, 'I love you, too, oh, I love you,' and moving with it, saying 'angel' and 'darling' and then saying nothing, the explosion and the light again permeating his whole body not just the penis, a passing through the mandala to the other side and a long sleep.

Willow leaned forward and laid her head next to his on the pillow. "Is it too late to say I'm sorry, and that I love you more than anything else in this world?" "Oh God,no,love." With his good arm, he reached for the back of her head and brought her lips to his. They kissed as if they'd never get enough of each other, because they knew they never would. When Rider finally released her mouth, he smiled rakishly and pulled her hand under the covers. Willow smiled when he laid her hand over his throbbing desire. "Hmmm, you are feeling better." "Almost well enough to start Mr. Happy on his baby-making lessons again," he said in a deep sexy baritone. "Ah,Rider?" "Yes,love?" He was pulling her down for another stirring kiss. "About those lessons?" "Hmmm, I'm anxious to start practicing again, too,love. But at the moment Mr. Happy is a lot stronger than the rest of me." "Oh,I know,but...Rider, Mr. Happy must have learned his lessons real fast." Rider stilled. "What do you mean?" "I mean that I think Mr. Happy cooked something up in the kitchen." Forgetting his shoulder, Willow's husband sat straight up in bed. He winced, then asked, "You mean you're...going to have a baby?" "Of course I'm going to have a baby, you beefwit. Did you think I was baking another damn pie?" "Yahoooo!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, and hugged her with his good arm. Six men, Juan included, plus two women came pouring into the room. "What in the hell is going on in here?" Owen grumbled in mock irritation. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Rider announced, "Owen, your daughter is about to make me a father and give you a second grandchild." "Oh,hell, I knew that." Nine people echoed, "You did?" "Hell, yes, all you gotta do is look at 'er face." Rider cocked his head and studied his wife's face. "She does have an extra glow about her, doesn't she?" "She sure does." Owen chuckled. "Her mama got the same glow with all five of her babies." "If I'm glowing, it's because all of you are staring at me like I just grew horns," Willow said, covering her flushed cheeks with her hands. "Dammit, I just thought of something," Owen said. "I s'pose this means I'll have to add another room to the house for when you come visiting." "Owen Vaughn," Miriam reprimanded, "stop that cursing. I swear every other word out of your mouth is a curse! I'm going to break you of that before your grandbabies get old enough to repeat that filth." "Break me of it?" Owen laughed and poked Nick in the ribs with his elbow. "Only one way for a woman to break a stallion, that's to ride 'im hard!" The man all guffawed loudly. Miriam's face turned ten shades of red. "Well,I never!" She turned on her heel and made an indignant exit.

Dear Familiar Place, I am lost. I wonder who lives behind my eyes. I guess a lost little child who never grew up. However, I was forced to grow up, but I never had a chance to experience the sweet and playful side of life. I notice that at the moment, it is only me sitting on you—usually, I would have to share you with two or three people. After I leave, you will not be marked until a lonely broken soul will claim you. Just for tonight, they will have something to claim as their own. I wonder who will claim you tonight? I thank you for keeping me warm the best way you could. I am sure you are one of everyone’s best friends. I bet you have a lot of stories to tell. I am looking at the clouds and wondering how long the cloud will last in my life. I’ve had so many cloudy days; sadly, I forget how the sun looks and feels. My eyes are sensitive to the daylight, but they are immune to the darkness with just the right kind of light from the stars. During the day, my mood is cloudy, uncertain, blurred, depressing, and there is so much fog I can’t see the sun, nor do I have a head's up that the rain is coming. I wish just one day my mood could at least be fair skies. I’ll accept cool and fair skies. I mean, at least for once, could my life be fair instead of constantly feeling anxiety and my soul tied in two knots or more? I retraced my thoughts and noticed the wind was blowing. I smile slightly because the leaves are playing with each other as the breeze shows them some unconditional love. I wonder what unconditional love is? In my world, unconditional love is blowing dandelions in the daytime and hugging the stars during the night. I guess that’s all the love I need. Wishing for brighter days.

Come here.” Without regard for modesty, she pulled off her T-shirt and wadded it up to stanch his wounds. He splayed his fingers on her bare stomach and grinned. “Honey, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that right now. Maybe later?” How could he joke and flirt when she was so afraid? “Max. You’re bleeding. Maybe dying. I don’t want to lose you.” “Come. Here.” He grabbed her and pulled her down into the grass beside him. He pressed a kiss to her temple and rubbed his grizzled cheek against hers. The sirens were getting closer. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” “I’m fine. You’re the one who got shot. Twice.” “I’m gonna live through both. I’m a tough guy, remember?” “Damn it, Max—” “Rosemary March. Did you just swear? You know I don’t like hearing that from you,” he teased. He pulled her in for a kiss that lasted until a groan of pain forced him to come up for air. “You get under my skin, Rosie.” “Like an itchy rash?” she teased. “Like an alarm clock finally waking me up to the life I’m supposed to have. With you.” So when did the tough guy learn to speak such beautiful things? Tears stung her eyes again as she found a spot where she could hug him without causing any pain. “I know I’m not the guy you expected to want you like this, and I know you weren’t the woman I was looking for. Hell, I wasn’t even looking.” “Neither was I.” “But we found each other.” “We’re good for each other.” “I’m not an easy man to live with. I come with a lot of emotional baggage.” “And I don’t?” “You can do better than me.” Rosie shook her head, smiling. “I can’t do better than a good man who loves me. A man who encourages me to be myself and to be strong and who makes me feel safer and more loved than I have ever felt in my life.” “I do love you, Rosie.” “I love you, Max.” “What are we going to do about these feelings?” Max asked. “What do you want to do?” " Let’s give the Dinkles something to talk about.” “You’re moving in upstairs?” “And opening all the windows.” Rosie smiled. “Oh, I hope we give them plenty to talk about.

Then, at last, he looked at her again. Gave a sheepish smile, gave a strained, self-conscious laugh. “So what, am I crazy?” “No.” Reaching out, Miranda firmly took his hand. “No, Parker, you’re not. Not at all.” Another laugh, more hoarse this time. He tried to clear his throat. His nose was running, and his eyes shone with embarrassed tears; he wiped one sleeve angrily across his cheeks. On a sudden impulse, Miranda threw her arms around him. “What’s that for?” Parker asked, both flustered and surprised. “Just…” Miranda pulled back again. She gazed anxiously into his eyes. “Parker…you saw it. You saw it was real.” He wanted to forget about it, she could tell. He’d opened himself and shown her his fears, and now he wanted to forget it ever happened. But you won’t forget, Parker. You’ll never forget. I’ve been there. I know. “You believe me,” she whispered. “Okay, fine, I believe you.” His stare, always so bold, faltered a little. He tilted his head back and made a frustrated sound in his throat. “We’re not going to be like best girlfriends now, are we?” he accused her. “I mean, you’re not going to be squealing at me every time somebody says the word ghost, are you?” “Of course not.” “Because…I swear to God, Miranda, if you ever tell anybody--” Miranda hugged him tighter. “I won’t tell a soul.” “A soul? Is that supposed to be funny?” “I won’t tell anyone. I’m just hugging you because you’re you.” “Yeah, I get that a lot. Girls want to love me, and guys want to be me.

My beloved grandson, I thank the gods for the joy of seeing your face again before I die. I wish with all my heart that you’d come back to us sooner.” Argus smiled, but made no move to approach his grandfather. “You’ll have to forgive me for staying away so long, Lord Aetes. As dearly as I love you, the idea of being put to death on my return to Aea kept me away. It’s a trivial thing, the fear of losing one’s life, but it means a lot to me.” Lord Aetes scowled. “Your father, Phrixus, was wrong to exile you, but every man has the right to rule his own family. I thought Phrixus was unjust, but I couldn’t intercede. I had a good reason.” He didn’t elaborate. “A very good one, no doubt,” Argus drawled. “Is it going to be good enough to justify executing me now that I’m back?” The king shook his head. “Your father and stepmother are both dead. Any quarrel you had with them is over. Your innocence and honor are not to be questioned by any man who owes me allegiance. All of your rights as a royal prince of Colchis are hereby restored.” “All of my rights?” Argus echoed. “You mean my stepbrother, Karos, is dead, too?” Lord Aetes didn’t answer. Argus stroked his beard. “I see. Well, won’t he be thrilled to learn that he’s going to have to share his inheritance.” “There will be peace between my grandsons,” Lord Aetes stated, gritting his teeth. “I will not have it otherwise. Did you come here to vex me, or to rejoin your family?” Argus’s laughter danced with the smoke and sparks rising from the fire pit. He strode around the hearth and embraced the king. “My apologies, Grandfather, but can you blame me for snapping? Look at the two of us. My years of exile have aged me so that we could pass for brothers!” Lord Aetes smiled and returned Argus’s hug. “That’s over now. We’ll soon have you looking your proper age.

I love its potential. I hate its past. And I don’t like what it is.’ She hugs her knees close to her chest. ‘The way you feel about the place you grew up in is a lot like how you feel about your family.

Trust. It was easier said than done. For a moment Loretta struggled, unable to make up her mind. Chase Kelly Wolf. Indigo Nicole Wolf. Her child had the right to know his or her father. And the chance would be lost unless she found some courage. Did she want to spend her life peering into her looking glass, as Aunt Rachel had, searching for herself, berating herself? Loretta pulled her arm from Hunter’s grasp. If she was going, she had to hurry before Hunter gave up and left. She shouldered her way through the men, ignoring the insults they hurled after her. Amy appeared out of the darkness. From the look on her face, Loretta knew she had overheard. Loretta broke stride, then threw her arms wide to catch her little cousin in a fierce hug. “I love you, Amelia Rose. Don’t ever forget that.” Amy’s shoulders shook with sobs. “I won’t. I’ll miss you, Loretta. A powerful lot.” Loretta hugged her more tightly. “Maybe one day we’ll be together again. You’ve got to hold my baby!” “Maybe after Swift Antelope comes for me.” Amy gulped and pulled away. “You’ll tell him, won’t ya? That I ain’t forgot my promises to him? That I’ll be waitin’ for him?” “I’ll tell him.” “You’d best go.” Amy rubbed her cheek with her fist. “Go on! Before Hunter leaves!” Loretta threw a regretful glance toward the buckboard. “Tell Aunt Rachel that--” “She knows, but I’ll tell her anyhow.” Loretta touched her hand to Amy’s cheek, trying to smile but too frightened to manage. “Good-bye.” “Good-bye, Loretta Jane.Good-bye!” The word followed Loretta into the darkness. Good-bye. As she left the wagons far behind, she felt more alone than she ever had in her life. Moonlight bathed the flats. Loretta turned in a slow circle but saw no one. If Hunter was out here, why didn’t he show himself?

I tell Ceri, this is most likely when I developed an utter love of literature. The Adventures of Tom Sayer. David Copperfield. The Little Prince. Then Cervantes. Balzac. Nabokov. Capote. Some of Miller – but my folks found out and said I was too young for that. I tell Ceri, most likely this is when I developed my inner fears. But that would be an oversimplification. Some-times he used to come around when my mum wasn't there, and Dad was always tired and angry cause he couldn't find a job. And when they had done drinking and Dad was resting, sometimes he would come to my room and we'd read together. He would pull me out of my bed, put me on his knees and hold me tight and read Verne or Rimbaud or Carroll. In candlelight, we would read Dickens and Doyle. Salinger as well. I tell Ceri, this is most likely when my brain started to repress memories and wounds. Then one day they had an argument, Mum was crying a lot that day and at one point came to my room and hugged me till night. We moved out of there shortly after, we moved to a smaller house and I never saw him again. The first time I meet her, I tell Ceri this is just another story now. No need to worry about anything, really. I tell her, I don't even read Rimbaud or Cervantes anymore, you know.

My “boyfriend” at the time (let’s call him Mike) was an emotionally withholding, conventionally attractive jock whose sole metric for expressing affection was the number of hours he spent sitting platonically next to me in coffee shops and bars without ever, ever touching me. To be fair, by that metric he liked me a lot. Despite having nearly nothing in common (his top interests included cross-country running, fantasy cross-country running [he invented it], New England the place, New England the idea, and going outside on Saint Patrick’s Day; mine were candy, naps, hugging, and wizards), we spent a staggering amount of time together—I suppose because we were both lonely and smart, and, on my part, because he was the first human I’d ever met who was interested in touching my butt without keeping me sequestered in a moldy basement, and I was going to hold this relationship together if it killed me. Mike had only been in “official” relationships with thin women, but all his friends teased him for perpetually hooking up with fat chicks. Every few months he would get wasted and hold my hand, or tell me I was beautiful, and the first time I tried to leave him, he followed me home and said he loved me, weeping, on my doorstep. The next day, I told him I loved him, too, and it was true for both of us, probably, but it was a shallow, watery love—born of repetition and resignation. It condensed on us like dew, only because we waited long enough. But “I have grown accustomed to you because I have no one else” is not the same as “Please tell me more about your thoughts on the upcoming NESCAC cross-country season, my king.

I let out a slow breath, looking at Darius’s mother instead. Holy fake tits! Mommy Acrux was stunningly beautiful and perfectly put together, her pale pink dress was cut with a sweetheart neckline which revealed a lot of cleavage. It was really hard to look away from it. I thought I had a pretty decent rack but beside her curvaceous glory I was a pancake with a face. Real flowers bloomed along the side of her dress, opening and closing their petals in various shades of blue to compliment her husband’s attire and I guessed that meant she held the Element of Earth, though I’d never seen magic used in such a pretty, pointless way before. Her face was painted with the exact right amount of makeup to accentuate her beauty. She had Darius’s dark hair, bronzed skin and deep brown eyes and she hung on her husband’s arm like the definition of arm candy. The men in the room were not so subtly checking her out but I couldn’t blame them. Hell, I even fancied her. The butler clearly had more work to do and he stepped forward to announce us to his High Lord and Lady. “May I present the Celestial Heirs, Max Rigel, Seth Capella, Caleb Altair and Master Acrux,” he said. The Heirs all moved forward to greet the Acruxes and I stifled my surprise as each of them bowed their heads to Daddy Acrux. Mommy Acrux offered out air kisses and embraces which pulled the Heirs against those breasts for a moment. Seth smirked as he moved aside and Darius approached last. His father barely spared him a glance and his mother didn’t offer him one of the hugs but she brushed a hand against his cheek. “How lovely to see you, Darius dear,” she murmured, her tone was sultry and she didn’t actually seem to be particularly pleased to see her son. “I’ve missed you, Mother,” Darius replied, his voice sounding like it was on autopilot even to me. (Tory)

What's the matter?" he said. I shook my head. "Tell me what hurts." "I . . ." I felt it coming. I could have stopped it. I didn't. In that moment, I knew what Tariq felt about coming out—the wanting more than anything to utter one secret forbidden sentence but being more terrified of that sentence than any other, and I knew, in my pain, in my sickness, in my wishing I could snap my fingers and cease to be alive, that I had to say my sentence to keep myself from dying. "I . . ." Tariq's eyes were black topaz galaxies, swirling supernovas of love and kindness, boring into me, seeing me, all of me. "I haven't eaten that much food in weeks," I said. "Why n—" He stopped. "Oh." I nodded. "Do you . . . Are you . . . anorexic?" "I don't know," I said. "But I . . . I'm something." I took a breath, a deep deep breath, the deepest breath I'd ever taken. "I— I have an eating disorder." "Oh, baby," he said, and kissed my forehead. He hugged me again, and I realized I had never heard that tenderness in his voice before. I began to sob, and I hugged him back, and we sat on the bitter-cold ground of a mostly empty parking lot, while the whole world celebrated a holiday without us.

Q45Why do you enjoy going out for walks so much? My guess is that lots of people with autism like walking, and I wonder if you can work out why. “Because walking makes you feel good?” “Because it’s great being out in the open air?” Both these replies are true, of course, but for me the number one reason is that us people with autism love the greenness of nature. Now you might be thinking, “Oh, is that all?” However, our fondness for nature is, I think, a little bit different from everyone else’s. I’m guessing that what touches you in nature is the beauty of the trees and the flowers and things. But to us people with special needs, nature is as important as our own lives. The reason is that when we look at nature, we receive a sort of permission to be alive in this world, and our entire bodies get recharged. However often we’re ignored and pushed away by other people, nature will always give us a good big hug, here inside our hearts. The greenness of nature is the lives of plants and trees. Green is life. And that’s the reason we love to go out for walks.

Nice hammer,” Harlow said from behind me. “Hey,” I said, glancing around casually to see if Winnie was with her. “Nice shiner.” “You should see the other chick,” she muttered. “Can we talk?” Setting down my hammer, I followed her away from the other guys. Harlow seemed tense and I worried something was wrong with Winnie. “This is awkward and I feel weird coming here like this,” she said, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears. “Are you dating anyone?” My breath caught. A fear rose up in my chest at the thought of Harlow wanting to date me. What would that mean for me and Winnie? The look in Harlow’s eyes calmed my terror. I might as well have been a brick wall based on the lack of attraction she showed. “No.” “Some girl was hugging you outside a restaurant. Wasn’t that a date?” Frowning, I scratched at my jaw where I forgot to shave that morning. “That was a girl from high school. She might have been into me, but we went out as friends. I’m not dating anyone.” “Winnie saw you with that girl and she got really upset. I know she’s not ready to have a boyfriend, but she wants you. Do you want her?” Playing it cool might be the stud move, but I didn’t want to be a player. I wanted Winnie. Besides, for the second time in twenty four hours, someone close to Winnie wanted to play matchmaker. “Yes.” Harlow nodded. “She’s messed up. You know that, right?” “I know she’s fragile, yeah.” “Winnie has a lot of phobias. Not stupid shit for attention, but real chronic problems that won’t go away because you’re hot. She’s been in therapy for years and gotten stronger, but she’ll never be okay.” “I understand.” Harlow bit her lip then nodded again. “Do you want to take her out to dinner tomorrow?” “Yes.” Harlow smiled. “You better be chattier than that on the date or else no one will say anything. Winnie likely won’t say anything all night, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to. She just takes a long time to warm up to people.” I wasn’t sure what Harlow saw on my face, but she grinned. “She really wants to warm up to you, Dylan. Don’t fuck it up, okay?” “I’ll do my best.” When Harlow narrowed her eyes, I was pretty sure she might hit me. “I appreciate the way you tried to save us that day. You showed balls and I respect that. With that said, you better be taking this seriously, understand?” Leaning closer, I stared right into those suspicious eyes. “No one makes me feel like Winnie. If she needs to take it slow, we’ll go slow. If she wants to rush into it, we’ll rush. If she needs me to stand on my fucking head and sing the National Anthem, I’ll do it. So yes, I’m taking this very seriously,” I said, running a hand where short dark stubble took the place of my mohawk. “I told Winnie I would wait and I meant it. What you think is me being passive is just patience.” “Okay,” Harlow said softly. “You know when I came to Ellsberg, I was pretty messed up. My family was dead and I was in this new place with strangers. Winnie took care of me. She became my sister and best friend. I love her like she’s blood. Nothing personal, but if you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you.” “Fair enough,” I said, grinning. “Smile all you want, buddy, but I’ve got moves.” Harlow faked a punch, but I didn’t flinch. My mind was already focused on tomorrow. I hadn’t talked to Winnie since the day Nick’s dad showed up. I hadn’t seen her close up in weeks. I needed to be close to her even if she couldn’t do more than hide behind her hair all night.

Today, about one year later, I am still the happiest forever Mom to Calli. She is my shadow, my snuggle-bug and a wonder companion. Every morning we have our "talk," (she is very vocal) and I swear that she understands a lot of what I say! She's such a sweet girl and loves to lie on people, reaching up with her paws, like she's trying to give you a hug around the neck! My new best friend, Calli! Bonnie Hurlburt

The next morning, while everyone else sat in the waiting area, Mia and I met with the doctor. “Well, I have good news and bad news,” Dr. Genecov said. “The bad news is that she needs this surgery, and we need to get it on the books right now. The good news is that I’ve worked with a company to invent a new device. Instead of using the halo, I can now do everything internally.” What? Did I just hear what I think I heard? He continued talking, but I honestly didn’t hear anything for the next few seconds while I tried to process this new information. Seriously? I can’t believe this! I thought. Where did this come from? I knew he was working on a better bone graft procedure before we needed it, but this just came out of nowhere! I tried my best to hold myself together. All I wanted to do was call Jase and tell him this news. Actually, I wanted to climb the nearest mountain (if there were mountains in Dallas) and shout it from the top of my lungs! After thanking him profusely, Mia and I walked down the hall for our appointment with Dr. Sperry. “Do you know what you just avoided?” Dr. Sperry asked, grinning from ear to ear. “A shaved head, the intensive care unit for a week, and a much longer recovery period.” That was it. I couldn’t hold back any longer and let my tears flow. Mia looked at me in surprise. If I was embarrassing her, I didn’t care. It was for a good reason. “Dr. Genecov has been working hard to perfect this procedure, and he has done it one time so far.” She looked right at Mia and said, “And I’m convinced he did that one to get ready for you.” Mia smiled and said, “Cool.” Mia had enjoyed her honeymoon period. She felt no stress or anxiety about the future, which was a great blessing. I was thankful that I had not told her about the distraction surgery and glad that my eleven-year-old daughter didn’t understand all that she had been spared because of this development. When I filled in my mom, Bonny, and Tori on this unexpected and exhilarating news, they all gasped, then shouted and hugged me. All I could think of was how grateful I was to my Father in heaven. He had done this. Why? I don’t know. But I knew He had chosen this moment for Dr. Genecov to perfect a new invention that would spare my daughter, at this exact time in her life, the ordeal of a device that would have been surgically screwed into her skull. After getting to the parking lot, I immediately called Jase with this incredible news. Like me, he was having a hard time wrapping his head around it. “How many of these has he done?” I hesitated, then said, “One.” “One? He’s done one? I don’t know about this, Missy.” I quickly reminded him of Dr. Genecov’s success in the new bone graft surgery and said, “Babe, I think it’s worth the risk. He’s proven to us just how good he is.” Jase is not one to make a quick decision about anything, but before our phone call ended, he agreed that we should move forward with the surgery.

As I was reading, I started thinking about Jessica and the idea of getting married. We could be doing this--reading our Bibles, cooking our own food, hanging out--at our own house. Suddenly, I was excited about the idea of leaving Mom and Dad’s house and starting my own family with Jessica. All my brothers had gotten married before they were twenty, and here I was twenty-two, and not married. I knew Jess was the one. I’m not going to look at any more girls, I thought, still reading through Scripture out loud. I just want to get married to the woman I love. There was a deep sense of knowing inside of me. I didn’t want to overthink it anymore; I just wanted to do it. If we knew we wanted to be married, why wait? So all of a sudden I just burst out, “We should get married.” Jessica looked up from her Bible, surprised. I wasn’t down on my knees, and I didn’t have champagne or a ring, so she wasn’t exactly expecting a marriage proposal. But that’s what it was. A random impulse of a marriage proposal. I looked in her eyes and said it again. “Let’s get married. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” There were hugs and tears, and then we ran out to tell Mom and Dad the news. More hugs, more tears. And wedding plans started right away. “We’ll just elope,” I said, “or get Dad to marry us.” We didn’t want to waste a second. Now that we knew, we wanted to get married as soon as possible and start our lives together. But Mom had a fit. “No,” she said in a loud voice. “We have to have a wedding. I’ve always dreamed about your wedding, Jep.” I didn’t want a big wedding, and I knew it would take time and cost a lot of money. “Mom, I just think it would be better this way.” “Look, just some family,” she argued back, “and maybe some of my best friends. I’ll help get everything together. It won’t be hard. You’ll see.” Then she tilted her head and smiled that big smile; how could I say no? We finally gave in because we could see how important it was for her, but we made it clear we wanted to get married as soon as possible, so we set a date for two weeks away. We don’t waste much time down here in Louisiana.

Also”— God hugged Leo to him, rubbing his palms over the strong muscles in his partner’s back— “thank you for taking such good care of me when I was sick. I may have been pretty out of it, but I remember a lot of it too. I think I knew then that you were the one, the only one that would be there for me and have been for the past four years. I love you, Leo.” Day

You’re just annoyed because you can’t find a way to be in charge and control this whole thing and it’s making you jumpy.” Kerry considered that, relented a little. “Maybe.” “And because we all like him. A lot. And you’re feeling overly nudged.” “Nudged?” Kerry repeated, eyebrow raised. “How about all but shoved down the aisle? You know, just because you’re all schmoopy and wedding obsessed doesn’t mean the rest of us live to follow in your pearl-and-laced-encrusted footsteps.” Fiona just batted her lashes again. “Oh, come on. You love the schmoopy. You just don’t want to admit it. And you don’t have to go all pearls and lace. I’m sure we can find something in a tasteful banana leaf gown for you.” Kerry nudged her sister with a sharp elbow--it was that or snicker--but Fiona just nudged back, and clung to her arm like a kelp bed attached to the seafloor. “And, okay,” Fiona added, “perhaps we’re just enjoying seeing you so out of your depth. Between that and Cooper’s full-on pursuit, I can see it’s enough to make anyone a little grumpy.” She squeezed Kerry’s arm, then added, “Ms. I Can Run Circles Around the Globe But Not Around Mr. Dead Sexy Accent.” Kerry gave up, as she always did, in the face of Fiona’s unrelenting cheer and pulled her in for a quick, if purposely smothering hug. “Don’t say anything to Fergus,” she whispered against Fiona’s hair before turning her sister loose. “He’s already stuck his nose in way too far, and you know he’ll just worry about me.” Fiona laughed. “You’re the only one Fergus never worries about. And don’t kid yourself about slowing his roll; he’s thrilled--thrilled--finally to have the chance to stick his nose in your business. Do you think anything will stop him from ‘helping’ you make the right choice?

Do you have your keys?” Kerry abruptly asked. Hannah looked surprised, then alarmed. “Kerry, don’t go and do--” “I just need to take a drive. Clear my head. Think. Cooper is in his element here and likely will be for a good long while. If he asks--” “If?” Hannah said, lawyering up again, clearly not on board with Kerry’s sudden wild hare. “If he asks,” Kerry repeated evenly, “tell him I’ve gone for a drive and will be back for dinner.” She looked Hannah square in the eyes. “I promise. I just need some space. I have a lot to think about.” “It doesn’t all need thinking out today,” Hannah reminded her. “If I don’t get a handle on it now, it’s only going to pile on and be that much more complicated and confusing. I don’t want to get pushed or overwhelmed and do something I’ll regret.” She took the keys Hannah begrudgingly handed her. “Thank you. I won’t put a scratch on her, I swear.” “It’s not her getting banged up I’m worried about,” Hannah said. Kerry impulsively pulled her sister in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For loving me despite what a confusing pain in the ass I can be.” Hannah hugged her back, then let her go. “I do love you,” she said to Kerry’s retreating back. “But if you’re not here by dinner, I’m going to tell Cooper to run, run fast.” Kerry tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Good luck with that. I already tried.

I know you think you can’t, but you can move on in that area of your life too. In fact, you should. Chase wouldn’t want you to raise the baby and live your life alone.” “I won’t be alone,” I countered, “I’ll have you guys.” “You will have us, always, but don’t shut love out of your life. Chase would want you to have a husband, he would want the baby to have a father.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “But isn’t this too soon? I’m so confused, it’s like when I was fighting my feelings for Chase when I was dating Brandon, only now I feel like I’m acting as if Chase didn’t matter to me by even considering anything with Brandon.” “For a lot of people, two months is too soon. But your situation is entirely different because of what happened between the three of you before. So that doesn’t exactly apply to you and Brandon now. If you’re worried about us Harper, don’t. We all want for you to be happy, and we agree Brandon makes you happy. We wouldn’t have called him to help you out of your mourning if we were afraid you would eventually go back to him. “If you want to do this on your own, then you should. But, if you want to be with him, don’t miss your chance with him again. He’s good for you, and though he has every right to be bitter about your baby, he already loves him more than we could ever hope a man in your life would.” She paused for a minute and leaned back in her chair, “I know what Chase thought of him, and I promise he would be happy with your choice. He knew Brandon could take care of, and love you, better than anyone. That’s why he didn’t interfere with your relationship for so long.” We sat in silence a few minutes while I let that sink in. It’s like she knew exactly what I needed to hear, to know the family wouldn’t judge me, and most importantly, for someone to tell me Chase would want me to be happy and move on too. Claire leaned over and hugged me tight before speaking again, “I think the real question is, how did you feel after you kissed him?” “Like I could finally breathe again.” I answered honestly. “I still love him Mom.” “I know you do, sweetie.” “Is

Shortly before Christmas that year, Patrick, now seven, came along with me to work at our church’s annual Christmas bazaar. As he wandered around, he spotted a small handcrafted necklace and earring set. He thought of Diana’s recent letter and remembered our visit in Washington. As a result, he bought the little jewelry set with his saved-up allowance. We sent it to Diana for Christmas, accompanied by notes from Patrick and me. Later the following January, 1987, Diana wrote to “Dearest Patrick,” telling him she was “enormously touched to be thought of in this wonderful way.” Then she drew a smiley face. “I will wear the necklace and earrings with great pride and they will be a constant reminder of my dear friend in America. This comes with a big thank you and a huge hug, and as always, lots of love from Diana.” Could one imagine a more precious letter? I just felt chills of emotion when I rediscovered it after her death. Diana wrote to me at the same time. Now that the holidays were over, Diana had to return to her official duties--“It’s just like going back to school!” Prince William loved his new school. Diana felt he was ready for “stimulation from a new area and boys his own age…” She described taking William to school the first day “in front of 200 press men and quite frankly I could easily have dived into a box of Kleenex as he look incredibly grown-up--too sweet!” Diana noticed that Patrick and Caroline looked very much alike in our 1987 Christmas photograph. “But my goodness how they grow or maybe it’s the years taking off and leaving us mothers behind!” Diana was a young twenty-six when she wrote that observation. I wonder if she knew then that less than four years later, Prince William would be off to boarding school, truly leaving his mother behind. Again she extended a welcoming invitation. If we could manage a trip to London, “I’d love to introduce you to my two men!” By then, she meant her two sons. She also repeated that our letters “mean a great deal to me…

The end of this short story could be a rather disturbing thing, if it came true. I hope you like it, and if you do, be sure to COMMENT and SHARE. Paradoxes of Destiny? Dani! My boy! Are you all right? Where are you? Have you hurt yourself? Are you all right? Daniiii! Why won’t you answer? It’s so cold and dark here. I can’t see a thing… It’s so silent. Dani? Can you hear me? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving… I shouldn’t have done it! I'm so stupid sometimes! Son, are you all right?... We really wrecked the car when we rolled it! I can’t see or hear a thing… Am I in hospital? Am I dead…? Dani? Your silence is killing me… Are you all right?! I can see a glimmer of light. I feel trapped. Dani, are you there? I can’t move. It’s like I’m wrapped in this mossy green translucent plastic. I have to get out of here. The light is getting more and more intense. I think I can tear the wrapping that’s holding me in. I'm almost out. The light is blinding me. What a strange place. I've never seen anything like it. It doesn’t look like Earth. Am I dead? On another planet? Oh God, look at those hideous monsters! They’re so creepy and disgusting! They look like extraterrestrials. They’re aliens! I'm on another planet! I can’t believe it. I need to get the hell out here. Those monsters are going to devour me. I have to get away. I’m so scared. Am I floating? Am I flying? I’m going to go higher to try to escape. I can’t see the aliens anymore and the landscape looks less terrifying. I think I've made it. It’s very windy. Is that a highway? I think I can see some vehicles down there. Could they be the extraterrestrials’ transport? I’m going to go down a bit. I see people! Am I on Earth? Could this be a parallel universe? Where could Dani be? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving. I shouldn’t… That tower down there looks a lot like the water tank in my town… It’s identical. But the water tank in my town doesn’t have that huge tower block next to it. It all looks very similar to my neighborhood, but it isn’t exactly the same: there are a lot of tower blocks here. There’s the river… and the factory. It’s definitely my neighborhood, but it looks kind of different. I must be in a parallel universe… It’s amazing that I can float. People don’t seem to notice my presence. Am I a ghost? I have to get back home and see if Dani’s there. God, I hope he’s safe and sound. Gabriela must be out of her mind with the crash. There’s my house! Home sweet home. And whose are those cars? The front of the house has been painted a different color… This is all so strange! There’s someone in the garden… Those trees I planted in the spring have really grown. Is… is that… Dani? Yes, yes! It’s Dani. But he looks so different… He looks older, he looks… like a big boy! What’s important is that he’s OK. I need to hug him tight and tell him how much I love him. Can he see me if I’m a ghost? I'll go up to him slowly so I don’t scare him. I need to hold him tight. He can’t see me, I won’t get any closer. He moved his head, I think he’s started to realize I’m here… Wow I’m so hungry all of a sudden! I can’t stop! How are you doing, son?! It’s me! Your dad! My dear boy? I can’t stop! I'm too hungry! Ahhhh, so delicious! What a pleasure! Nooo Daniii! Nooooo!.... I’m your daaaad!... Splat!... “Mum, bring the insect repellent, the garden’s full of mosquitoes,” grunted Daniel as he wiped the blood from the palm of his hand on his trousers. Gabriela was just coming out. She did an about turn and went back into her house, and shouted “Darling, bring the insect repellent, it’s on the fireplace…” Absolute cold and silence… THE END (1) This note is for those who have read EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY. This story is a spin-off of the novel EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY and revolves around Letus’s curious theories about the possibility of animal reincarnation

Paul felt his knees almost buckle when he saw her. Now, he knew this was one fine-looking woman, and since he’d been the best man at her last wedding, it wasn’t as if he’d never seen her all dressed up. But it felt like the first time. She was usually found in jeans or a simple sundress, and in those she was almost too much for his heart. Today she was resplendent in green so pale it was nearly white. It was a shimmering, clingy silk, her reddish-gold hair lying in full curls on her shoulders and down her back. Her turquoise eyes were alive with love, sparkling brightly, and her peach lips were curved in a smile. “Holy shit,” Tommy said. “Look at my sister, man.” “I see her,” Paul croaked. “God above.” Tom laughed. “Well, go get her,” he said, poking him in the ribs. “God, I hope I’m cooler than you when I get married.” “Yeah,” Paul said in a weak breath. He unstuck his rooted feet and went to collect his bride and bring her into the gathering. She was greeted with lots of hugs and kisses, a glass pressed into her hand. Paul’s arm was around her waist and he couldn’t make himself let her go. He felt his chest swell with cocky pride, having her at his side. No way he should be getting a woman who looked like this. And she was all his; she couldn’t even glance at him without confirming that with her gaze. “Let’s

What is it?” he asked quietly, his eyes full of concern. “What have you been doing that’s so terrible?” A great shudder of anguish moved through Velvet. Once he learned the truth Hank would never forgive her, but there had been enough running away, and she couldn’t bring herself to lie. Not to this man. She accepted the handkerchief he offered and dried her face. “Things was hard after Pa and Eldon died,” she managed to say, mopping at her eyes again. Hank nodded, his gaze tender, silently urging her to go on. Velvet drew in a deep breath and gripped a picket of the gate in one hand. For the first time in her life she thought she might faint. “I did cleanin’ work mostly till I came to Fort Deveraux. I’d heard I could make a lot of money here, washin’ clothes for the soldiers.” She paused and looked away for a moment, drawing strength from the orange and crimson blaze of the setting sun. “I found out soon enough that there were a lot of other women here lookin’ to wash clothes—there just wasn’t enough work to go around. I—I ended up takin’ money from men.” For a moment Hank just stood there, the color draining out of his skin. “For what?” he asked, his voice a low rasp. Velvet felt as though she was being torn apart piece by piece, organ by organ. She lowered her eyes for a moment, then met Hank’s gaze squarely. He knew—she could see that—but he was going to make her tell him. “For sleepin’ with me,” she said. With a muttered exclamation Hank turned away, his broad shoulders stiff beneath the rough, plain fabric of his shirt. Velvet reached out her hand, then let it fall helplessly to her side. She’d lost him a second time, and the experience was a cruel one. She doubted she’d ever recover from it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He whirled so suddenly that Velvet was startled and leapt backward. His face was taut with anger and pain. “You were my woman,” he whispered with hoarse fury. “How could you have let another man touch you?” The resilience that had allowed Velvet to survive the many hardships life had dealt her surged to the fore. She advanced on Hank, raging. “I wasn’t your woman. I wasn’t anybody’s woman. I was all alone in this world, and I did what I had to do!” Hesitantly Hank lifted his hand to her face. His thumb brushed away a tear. “There wasn’t a day or a night that I didn’t think about you, Velvet.” She hugged herself, afraid to hope or trust. “I didn’t love none of those men,” she said miserably. “I could only stand lettin’ them touch me because I pretended they was you.” Hank’s smile was soft and infinitely sad. “I’m not going to lose you again because of pride,” he said. “I don’t like that you took money from those men, but I figure I love you enough to get by that in time. All that really matters to me is now, Velvet. Now and next week and next year, and all the years after that, when you and I are going to be together.” Velvet hardly dared to believe her ears. She’d had very little good fortune in her life; she didn’t know how to deal with much besides trouble. “Folks around here won’t ever forget—there’ll be talk—” He laid two fingers to her lips, silencing her. “I don’t care,” he said. “I’ve found you. That’s all that’s important.” With a sob, Velvet let her head drop against Hank’s sturdy chest. Tenderly he enfolded her in his arms. “Hush, now,” he said. “Things are going to be different after this. Very different.” An

Oh, it’s on now,” he growls and spins around, bending at the waist so he can toss Emily over his shoulder. Emily protests, smacking his back, but she’s suddenly serious, if the look on her face is any indication. “Put me down, Matt,” she cries. Logan jumps to his feet, and he yells for Matt to put her down, too. Matt’s still laughing, though, and he has no idea how serious they are. “Matt!” Paul yells. The room goes quiet, and Matt spins around with Emily still over his shoulder to face Paul. “Put her down before you hurt her,” he says calmly but forcefully. Logan takes Emily from Matt and lowers her to her feet. “Sorry,” Emily says sheepishly. “What’s wrong?” Matt asks. He’s suddenly serious, despite the icing that’s all over his face. Reagan is wearing some, too, and they all look ridiculous. “Did I hurt you?” he asks Emily. Emily hangs her head a little and then looks up at Logan like she’s asking for permission. She signs and talks to him at the same time. “Should we tell them?” she asks. But she’s grinning. Logan smiles, too, and nods. Emily takes a deep breath. “You’re not sick, are you?” Matt asks, and I can see the love he has for both his brothers’ girls in his eyes. And, honestly, it makes me love him even more. Emily shakes her head. She jerks a thumb toward Logan. “Your brother knocked me up,” she says. The room goes silent. Completely silent. You could have heard a pin drop. “What?” Matt asks, looking from Logan to Emily and back. He has icing all over himself, yet he’s suddenly so serious. He points to Emily’s belly. “You’re pregnant?” he whispers. Emily laughs and nods. “We’re pregnant!” she cries. “So no more tossing her over any shoulders,” Logan warns, glaring at all his brothers. They’re getting to their feet, one by one. Suddenly, Matt jerks Emily toward him and wraps his arms around her. “I’m so happy for you,” I hear him say softly as he swings her around. She giggles and holds him close to her, patting his back. Matt sets her back from him and looks down at her belly. “You’re going to be the best mom ever, Em,” he says. “I hope so,” she says quietly, laying a hand on her belly. The rest of the brothers come forward to congratulate them, and they rub Logan’s head and jab him in the side, while Emily gets lots of soft hugs. “Maybe she’ll be born perfect like her dad,” she says. She worries her lower lip. “Or fucking gifted like you,” Matt says vehemently. Emily sniffs and smiles at him, a watery grin. “There’s just one thing I want to know,” Matt says. He wraps an arm around Emily’s shoulders and looks down at her. I flinch when I see what he’s about to do, but she does kind of deserve it. His hand inches toward the countertop and he snags a cupcake. “Is the baby going to like chocolate or vanilla?” He brings it up and crams it into Emily’s startled face. She sucks in a jerky breath. “Booyah!” Matt cries, and he runs away from Emily.

Don’t get mad at me for asking this, but why do you like him? I mean, I know you guys have the autistic sibling thing in common, but that can’t be the whole story.” “It’s not.” I want to explain, but it’s not easy. “You know that viral video that everyone was into a few years ago? About the lion who gets reunited with the guy who raised him as a cub? And the lion, like, licks him and hugs him and plays with him? And it’s amazing?” She raises her eyebrows. “You saying David’s a lion?” “It’s just . . . it’s easy to get a dog to love you. But it’s a lot harder—​and cooler—​to get a lion to. Especially if you’re the only person he doesn’t attack.” “I hope there’s a sexual metaphor somewhere in this whole lion thing,” Sarah says. “Because, honestly, that’s the only reason that would actually make sense to me.” “I don’t think either of us has a problem with you leaping to that assumption,” I say with an exaggerated wink. “Seriously,” she says. “Calling him a lion . . . I have issues with this.” “It’s just a metaphor.” “I know. But I don’t want you to be involved with someone who could hurt you.” “He wouldn’t. Not ever. He thinks the world is a shitty place, but he also thinks I’m the best thing in it. Well, me and his brother.” “Great,” she says. “Now you’re making me jealous. I’m jealous of your relationship with David Fields. Could I be a bigger loser?” “I’m not even telling you the best parts.” “Good,” she says. “Spare me

This happens on the road a lot. Very fierce relationships form and then they’re gone; it’s almost a flash. “I was really close to her, I really liked her, I almost remember her name.” It’s not like I was collecting—I’m not Bill Wyman or Mick Jagger, noting down how many I’ve had. I’m not talking about shagging here. I’ve never been able to go to bed with a woman just for sex. I’ve no interest in that. I want to hug you and kiss you and make you feel good and protect you. And get a nice note the next day, stay in touch. I’d rather jerk off than just have a piece of pussy. I’ve never paid for it in my life. I’ve been paid for it, though. Sometimes there’s a backhander—“I love you too, and here’s some smack!” Sometimes I’d get into it just for fun.

I know damn well that raising children is never easy. I know there will be lots of long nights when I’ll have to stay awake worrying, lots of mistakes that I will make on the path and even some disappointments that I will have to live with as they make a few of their own mistakes. I know that sometimes they will shout at me in anger, that sometimes they will think I’m an old fart or an idiot who doesn’t know much and is not fit for their new world, and in that judgement, they will be spot on. I will never match their intelligence, knowledge or speed. Just as every father dreams for his children to do better than he has, they will surpass me. Their successes will dwarf mine and they will blaze forward to do much bigger and better things as they prove they are better than me, and my ego will not be hurt. Instead, I will watch in awe and be full of pride as they fix the mistakes of my generation. I will love them through it all as a good father loves his smelly, noisy, expensive, freedom-limiting, commitment-bringing, defiance-prone, respect-deficient, purpose-defining children. I will love them with no expectations of return but with one hope – that they will grow up to be the best and happiest they can ever be and that – well, that they will love me back, because isn’t that what it’s all about? One hug or one silly mug that says ‘The World’s Best Father’ after all those years. That would be awesome. It would be all that I hope for. That would make my whole life worth living. And like a good parent, I will love all my children equally

Love is a choice. Either we choose to behave lovingly toward others....or not; either we conduct ourselves in ways that enhance our relationship....or not. But we should be aware that genuine love requires effort. Simply put, if we wish to build lasting relationship, we must be willing to do our part. Building lasting relationship requires compassion, wisdom, empathy, kindness, courtesy, and forgiveness ( lots of forgiveness). If that sounds like work, it is – which is perfectly okay, since the rewards of love always outweigh the costs. Zora Neale Hurston observed, "Love makes your soul crawl out of its hiding place." Your capable of choosing that kind of love—and the world becomes a better place when you do.v January 27th

he asked them. “Too long. Don’t be such a stranger. Stop by if you’re in our neighborhood. We would love to sit and chat. We can talk about the good old days and we got lots of pictures and stories from Tuscany.” “Will do. Enjoy the evening.” Jack turned and was face to face with their daughter, Patti. “Hi, Jack,” she whispered. “Great to see you again,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “It was so good to talk with you the other day. It meant a lot to see you.” He watched her as she started to walk away and turned to him and say, “I wanted to let you know that after we talked I gave my husband a phone call. Eric and I decided to get back together. We’ve shared a lot of history, and we’re at least going to give it one last try to see if we can make it work. Thanks for everything, Jack. Bye.” She kissed him on the cheek. Jack saw Hope walking across the floor. “She’s pretty. Who was that?” glancing at Patti walk away. “An old and dear friend. Both Charley and I had a crush on her when we were younger. I’ll introduce you to her and her mom and dad later. You’ll like her.” More people filed inside to an already full hall. Soon it was standing room only. Jack turned to Hope and whispered, “I can’t believe this. We’ve had over twenty businesses make donations to the veterans’ fund to help support job training and for overseas servicemen’s wives and families. We also got money from the Yankee Bookshop, the Woodstock Inn, the Billings Farm Museum, the bank, and Bentleys Restaurant. They all donated money.” “That’s great,” she said excitedly. “And we’ve received over thirty new membership requests for the Veterans Post and that’s just yesterday. This is better than I ever expected. And four companies have committed to hiring more vets locally, including King Arthur Flour Company. They’re planning to build a new distribution center just west of town. I can’t believe all of this is happening.” “You should,” Hope said. “I remember you sat down right over there at that table and laid out what you wanted to see happen and you kept working on it until it did. I’m so proud of you.” He hugged her close and kissed her. He never wanted to let her go. The distinct fragrance of fresh balsam, pine, and holly filled

You’re afraid all of that will stop again if things don’t work out with someone new?” I let go of the string and look up into her eyes. She leans in, hugging her knees a little to close some distance. “It was just so hard to find the energy to get back into everything after he broke up with me. It just felt hopeless.” “Grief is normal. A lot of people sense a feeling of hopelessness when they experience a loss. You experienced a low, but you didn’t get stuck there. You’ve grown and put some good effort into rebuilding your life.” Her words put weight behind what I have been doing lately. I’ve learned it takes a lot of pieces to put a life back together, and I don’t ever want my world to revolve around anyone else again.

Dear Sara, First I want to apologize for everything that I have done. I am so sorry for hurting you. I was just so angry with Tom; I had no right to take it out on you. I thought it would be best if I moved out of the house for a while. I started attending AA meetings on Monday nights. I have also been talking to a counselor. He has helped me to face a lot of the problems that I couldn’t deal with on my own. A lot of the drinking and the violence was from the fact that I miss my mother. I never got a chance to see her or even get to hear her voice. My dad hated me for all these years because he blamed me for her death. Sara, I had no one. No one to talk to. No one to hug me. No one to tuck me in at night. I never had a father/son talk. I envied you. You grew up on a farm with people that loved you. I think a part of me was jealous. For once in my life, I have someone to love and I don’t know how to handle it. The problem is not you, Sara. It never was. The problem is me. I need to learn how to love, so that I can be a husband for you and a father for my children. I don’t know how long it’s gonna take and if you want to divorce me, then I’ll understand. The court hearing is in two weeks. I know that you have to testify. When I turned myself in, I told the police that I hit you and you fell on the floor, causing your cuts and bruises. I know that I lied to them, but I really need some help, Sara. If I’m locked up in prison, I can’t get the help that I need. The prison system doesn’t help those guys. They come out of prison doing the same things that they got locked up for. I want to change and be a better man. The only way I can do that is if you testify that I only hit you once since we’ve been married. I hate to put you in this position, and if you want to tell the truth, then I understand. You do what you feel that you have to do. I just feel positive about our future. With the counselor and the AA meetings, I know that we can finally be that perfect couple that you always wanted us to be. I love you and our beautiful children. Give them a big kiss for me, baby. I want to hold you in my arms so bad, but I know I can’t, not until I get the help I need. Love, Mike

Compared to other emotions (joy, sadness, anger), there is a lot of physical evidence that love is actually a concept closer to hormone activity than emotion. Biologically, love is a powerful neurotic condition. Desire to love is accompanied by sexual desire, but it is similar to hunger and thirst for hormonal reasons. When you fall in love, the brain releases several chemicals: pheromone, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin, vasopressin, and so on. Just by hugging a loved one or simply looking at a photograph of a boyfriend, the hormone oxytocin is released in the body and acts as an analgesic for headaches. What is interesting is that if you break up, the symptoms you experience are similar to the withdrawal symptoms of drug addicts. In some cases, withdrawal from the demonstration may release a chemical that weakens the heart in the body. Biochemically, phenylethylamine , which secretes in the brain's limbic system, acts as a stimulant, a kind of natural amphetamine. The phrase love is a drug is no longer a metaphor but an explanatory note in this scene. But it takes 2 seconds to look at the opponent and take the so-called saying at first sight. In just two seconds, phenylethylamine is secreted and becomes full, stimulating the brain, making the opponent look barefaced. If you can make your opponent secrete phenylethylamine, this is the birth of XXX, a grossly outbreak of creatures. However, the secretion of phenylethylamine has a shelf life and generally does not exceed 2 years. [10] After that period, I will get back to my mind. From this time on, love has passed through the stages of chemistry and sociology. But a new fact has been announced. It is said that there are quite a couple who secrete this phenylethylamine throughout life. (...) In this case, however, it is not the same as the whole life, but the period when it is secreted like other normal couples, and the time when the secretion is diminished repeatedly. However, the cycle of this pattern is similar to the two people, so it is a good fit for a lifetime. If you think about it a little differently, you will come back bump bang for a while and then fall back to each other. On the contrary, the broken couples still have one secretion, and the other side breaks into the resting period, and the secretion side considers that the other's love has cooled, Perhaps the main pattern that a man and a woman make and break is confessing - fellowship - Confession feels that the opponent is obsessed with the pattern of departure - separation, It may be that the action of the opponent, who started the pause more quickly and began to climax at the apex of the secretion at that point, is regarded as an obsession. However, it is difficult to justify the feeling of love as a simple hormonal change. It is not possible to reveal what kind of change is happening in any situation, even if it is revealed that what kind of hormone change occurs when feeling love, and it is impossible to tell. Just as you do not secrete phenylethylamine, which is one of the most common types of phenylethylamine you encounter on the roadside, you can not say that this research has 'revealed the principles of love' and 'why you fall in love'. The latter is influenced by individual values, experience and situation, first impressions, and the conditions of the opponent.

I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.” “I don’t like crumbs in my bed,” she said. “Or people who don’t pay rent here.” “You want rent?” He smiled as he finished the toast. “How much?” She went to the kitchen, grabbed his big arm, and tried to pull him out. He leaned back and wouldn’t budge. “Get out of here,” she said. “You’re banging into everything with your crutches.” “I’m not going,” he said. “Go sit on the couch. I’ll make you some eggs.” “Nope,” he said. “I might be a jerk, and I might make mistakes, but I don’t make the same one twice.” She was still pulling on his arm when he let go of the counter. He fell against her, wrapping his arms around her. “Oops,” he said. “Clumsy me.” “What are you doing?” Her voice was muffled from having his shoulder against her mouth. She felt the rumble of his voice in his chest as he spoke. “You’re not pulling me or pushing me out of your life again. I shouldn’t have left you that night.” “I want you to go.” “If you really want me to go, I will, but I don’t think you do. Look at yourself. You’re hugging me.” “If I let you go, you’ll fall down and break everything in my kitchen. Again.” She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed her body, rejecting his hug while still being in it. “When did I break everything in your kitchen?” She didn’t answer. “You mean I broke your heart when I left,” he said. “You did.” “What about you? You didn’t come to my grand opening. You sent me those boring funeral flowers and a generic card. You might as well have stuck an ice pick in my chest.” “That was different.” “You broke my heart,” he said. “I barely made it through the night. I’ve been barely making it through a lot of nights.” Tina relaxed into the hug. There was a lump in her throat. She managed to choke out, “I don’t understand what happened with us.” He reached up and stroked her upper back. “We had our first fight,” he said. “That’s what happened. And I didn’t know how to apologize. My bookkeeper quit helping me with my text messages, and I couldn’t go see my favorite florist for advice.” She pulled away and poked him in the stomach with two fingers. “Don’t make jokes, Luca. Don’t make me laugh.” “I shouldn’t have left you here that night,” he said, gazing down into her eyes. “But I was stubborn, and I thought I was right and you were wrong. Or maybe I was scared.” “Why would you be scared?” “My wrist hurts.” He kept looking into her eyes. “I know I only broke my foot last night, but when I fell, I reached out to break my fall. I’ve been thinking about this all morning, and the same thing must have happened with us.” “Are you saying I hurt your wrist?” “I think I realized I was falling, and I freaked out. I tried to stop my fall, but I only made it worse.” He leaned down and gently kissed her. “I tried to stop my fall, but then I broke both of us.” She pulled away, slipped out of his arms, and took three steps back, until she was against the back of the sofa, with nowhere to go. Luca said, “Don’t you dare run. I’ve got crutches, and I’m not afraid to use them.” “Where would I go?” He grinned. “I knew there was a reason I loved this house.

Photographs from Distant Places (1) In distant villages, You always see the same scenes: Farms Cattle Worship spaces Small local shops. Just basic the things humans need To endure life. (2) ‘Can you stay with me forever?’ She asked him in the airport, While hugging him tightly in her arms. ‘Sorry, I can’t. My flight leaves in two hours and a half.’ He responded with an artificially caring voice, As he kissed her on her right cheek. (3) I was walking in one of Bucharest’s old streets, In a neighborhood that looked harshly beaten by Time, And severely damaged by development and globalization. I saw a poor homeless man Combing his dirty hair In a side mirror of a modern and expensive car! (4) The shape and the color of the eyes don’t matter. What matters is that, As soon as you gaze into them, You know that they have seen a lot. All eyes that dare to bear witness To what they have seen are beautiful. (5) A stranger asked me how I chose my path in life. I told him: ‘I never chose anything, my friend.’ My path has always been like someone forced to sit In an airplane on a long flight. Forced to sit with the condition Of keeping the seatbelt on at all times, Until the end of the flight. Here I am still sitting with the seatbelt on. I can neither move Nor walk. I can’t even throw myself out of the plane’s emergency exit To end this forced flight! (6) After years of searching and observing, I discovered that despair’s favorite hiding place Is under business suits and tuxedos. Under jewelry and expensive night gowns. Despair dances at the tables where Expensive wines of corruption And delicious dinners of betrayal are served. (7) Oh, my poet friend, Did you know that The bouquet of fresh flowers in that vase On your table is not a source of inspiration or creativity? The vase is just a reminder Of a flower massacre that took place recently In a field Where these poor flowers happened to be. It was their fate to have their already short lives cut shorter, To wither and wilt in your vase, While breathing the not-so-fresh air In your room, As you sit down at your table And write your vain words. (8) Under authoritarian regimes, 99.9% of the population vote for the dictator. Under capitalist ‘democratic’ regimes, 99.9% of people love buying and consuming products Made and sold by the same few corporations. Awe to those societies where both regimes meet to create a united vicious alliance against the people! To create a ‘nation’ Of customers, not citizens! (9) The post-revolution leaders are scavengers not hunters. They master the art of eating up The dead bodies and achievements Of the fools who sacrificed themselves For the ‘revolution’ and its ideals. Is this the paradox and the irony of all revolutions? (10) Every person is ugly if you take a close look at them, And beautiful, if you take a closer look. (11) Just as wheat fields can’t thrive Under the shadow of other trees, Intellectuals, too, can’t thrive under the shadow Of any power or authority. (12) We waste so much time trying to change others. Others waste so much time thinking they are changing. What a waste! October 20, 2015

Ash, you were my girl for years. But before that, we were friends. The best of friends. I should have never let one snag in the road cause me to turn on you like I did. It was wrong. You took all the blame for something that wasn’t entirely your fault. It was Beau’s and it was mine.” “Yours? How?” “I knew Beau loved you. I’d seen the way he looked at you. I also knew you loved him more than you loved me. You two had a secret bond I didn’t get to be a part of. I was jealous. Beau was my cousin and you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I wanted you for myself. So I asked you out, never once going to Beau first. Never once asking him how he felt about it. You accepted, and just like magic I broke up the bond you two shared. You guys never talked anymore. There were no more late-night roof talks and no more bailing y’all out of trouble. Beau was my cousin and you were my girlfriend. It was as if your friendship had never been. I was selfish and ignored the guilt until it went away. Only the times I saw him watching you with that pained, needy expression did the guilt stir in my gut. It was mixed with fear. Fear you’d see that I’d done and go to him. Fear I’d lose you.” I reached down and ran my hand over his hair. “I loved you, too. I wanted to be good enough for you. I wanted to be the good girl you deserved.” “Ash, you were perfect just the way you were. I was the one who let you change. I liked the change. It’s one of the many reasons I feared I’d lose you. Deep down I knew one day that free spirit you’d quenched would fight to be released. It happened. And the fact it happened with Beau doesn’t surprise me in the least.” “I’m sorry, Sawyer. I never meant to hurt you. I made a mess of things. You aren’t going to have to watch Beau and me together. I’m stepping out of both of your lives. You can get back what was lost.” Sawyer reached up and grabbed my hand. “Don’t do that, Ash. He needs you.” “No, it’s what he wants too. Today he hardly acknowledged me. He only spoke to me when he was making a point to everyone else that I was to be left alone.” Sawyer let out a sad laugh. “He won’t last long. He’s never been able to ignore you. Not even when he knew I was watching him. Right now he’s dealing with a lot. And he’s dealing with it alone. Don’t push him away.” I jumped down from the branch and hugged Sawyer. “Thank you. Your acceptance means the world to me. But right now he needs you. You’re his brother. I’ll just be hindrance to you two dealing with everything.” Sawyer reached out and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. “Even if I was wrong to take you without a thought to Beau’s feelings, I can’t make myself regret it. I’ve had three amazing years with you, Ash.” I didn’t know what to say. I’d had good times too, but I did regret choosing the wrong Vincent boy. He gave me one last sad smile, then dropped my hair and walked away.

There are these open spaces in life called "pauses" and it is most unfortunate how the majority of people do not bother themselves with the pauses of life in pursuit of their desire to fill every moment they experience WITH THEMSELVES. You need to take a few steps back and not feel the constant need to pour yourself into every space that life offers. The pauses are equally--if not more-- important as the active participations that you make. When we kiss, we remove a part of ourselves from the experience by closing our eyes; this removes the sense of sight, it allows for an open space for a pause to let life flow through it. When we make love, there are the pauses, the nothings, the gazing into the eyes; the removal of oneself from the experience. Why? Because we instinctively know that the best parts of life are not fully had in the absence of nothingness. Nothingness is vital, nothingness is essential. Have you ever just stopped in the middle of the day, crossed your arms in front of you, closed your eyes and paused? If you have, then you are one to know that when we remove ourselves from the equation sometimes, we will come to realise that there is actually a lot going on that does not require our deliberation or participation. There is laughter coming from somewhere, mixed with the sound of trains or motorcycles; there is a faint breeze moving its way over our skin; there's the way the fabric we wear hugs our body; there are sensations (sounds, smells, feelings and even visions) that are alive, they thrive in the pauses we do not partake in. There is such a rush amongst people to fill up every moment with the essence of themselves, but they forget to allow themselves to be filled with the essence of those moments! Do you see what I am saying here? They are empty, they feel empty; and why? Because in their desperation to fill up everything, they are not allowing themselves to be filled up by anything. They are truly empty. You will meet people obsessed with fulfilling something, or showing something, or doing something. They have no presence about them because their presence lies elsewhere, in other things, anywhere but within themselves. Then you will meet a person who's still and that stillness can be felt throughout every room she walks into. There's that strong presence because this person is filled up; not empty. When have you paused to let life in? When have you stopped scrambling to produce more social media content, stopped scrambling as though in a race to be unforgotten? Where are your pauses? Where are the spaces in your life where you let the light in? Where is your stillness? You are afraid of being forgotten, so, you scramble to impress yourself onto everything, everywhere... but what has been impressed into you? What do you feel like when the lights are off and nothing or nobody is near? What do you feel like when nobody is looking, when you might, for a while, actually be forgotten? What does that feel like? You need to be okay with that; you need to be okay with letting light enter into you, so it glows from within you. That is the kind of glow that reaches everywhere else without trying.

Suddenly Heller turned serious and stepped away from Lawson. He came straight at me—okay, what the hell was he doing?—and I about swallowed my tongue. Heller hugged me like a long-lost brother. “Thank you for protecting my mate,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re welcome. You mean the world to him, you know?” I left it at that because, really, what more was there to say? “Yeah, I do know. Now he needs to know.” Heller stepped back from me, then turned around to face Lawson. Then he went down on one knee. Lawson gasped, Remi thrust his fist in the air and yelled, “Yes,” and I rolled my eyes. Of course, that was more for show than anything. I did have a reputation to keep up “Lawson?” Heller held his hand out to Lawson, who took it. “You’re my everything, but I’ve told you that. My life would be… would be incomplete without you. You’re my mate—my one and only. What I haven’t done is tell you that… that… I love you, and I don’t know why I haven’t. I think… no, I know I fell in love with you the moment I looked into those beautiful gunmetal-gray eyes of yours at your shop.” “Jesus, Heller,” Lawson gasped. Heller pulled a small box out of his front pocket. “Shifters don’t marry… not like humans. Sometimes we have to shift with next to no warning, so we don’t wear jewelry.” “But… you don’t shift, and being part human, I guessed marriage means a lot to you. It does, right?” Lawson wiped his eyes. “Oh God, yes, it does. Especially since now gays can marry.” “Will… will you wear my ring? Will you… will you wear it so the whole world can see that you’re taken?” “Fuck.” Lawson dropped to his knees and threw his arms around Heller, sobbing into his neck. “Dammit, hellcat! I love you. I love you so much.” Lawson pulled back to look at Heller. “Yes, yes, I will wear your ring. Oh my God, you’re unbelievable! Put it on me!” Remi eased his arm around me and rested his head on my shoulder. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I turned my head and kissed his hair. “They worked hard for this.” “Yes, they did. How many times do you think he rehearsed this speech?” “At least ten.” After a passionate kiss I thought I might have to break up before they set the rug on fire, the four of us munched on goodies, drank a couple of beers, and spent what was left of the evening watching movies. Things were going exceptionally well. I couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop

Different reaction to the word love " The word that everyone loves, hates, panics, and scared of when they hear that one person loves another. Some people are afraid when a person says "I love you" to them. They'll follow by saying this words " how do you know if it's love and not lust, or the most famous line it's too soon to know that you love me". Here's the answer to that. It's not all about if it's too soon or not to know if your in love or not. Everyone knows the feeling when their in love. It's the moment when you think about the memories or what you've been through together. When you realize you can't be without their touch of their hand grabs a hold of yours when your driving. Or the moment when you realize that them being I'm your life made your life so much brighter and a warm feeling every time you were with them. Just like a first day of spring after winter. Also when you think you can live without them in your life, but you realize that you can't live without them or be apart from them for one little second. That's when you know when your in love not when it's too early or late. Some people panic when they the sentence "I Love You". Because they don't know if they feel the same way, but their action can say a lot more than the words they say. Like They responding with I think it's moving to fast, but they don't know that the action they make. Proves everything they say wrong. Cause when they're together they enjoy the presents of each other. Especially when they look into each other eyes being able to see each other's life's past by in a mire glimpse of the future. Laughing, crying, fighting, and stress it's all part of the whole love thing without those four things. It wouldn't be worth it at all. At some point people hate the word " Love". Because at some point they got their hearts broken and just afraid of it get shattered again. So they decided to close their heart from everyone capable of loving them. Just cause of one person that broke their heart. It's understandable, but that is life sometimes people are gonna hurt you, and some will heal your shattered heart. Life is about risking it all. Especially in love you gotta risk it at some point to see if it's worth it or not. Or else it'll just fade away slowly, so don't close your heart to people always have it open. Just know who to let in deep or the surface of your heart. The last one " loving being loved ". People love the feeling being in love and feeling loved. Especially when it's by their love ones. The moment when you get a hug from them and they tell you they love you. All you feel is the warmth of the persons heart coming to the surface of their skin. Making sure you know your loved. Knowing you can make anyone feel better just by showing them love is the best feeling out there. Well there's a lot of different reactions to the word "love or when they tell you they love you ". You just gotta learn how to embrace the feeling of each and every reaction. Learn how to ignore the bad ones. Well that's all I gotta say. August 1,2014

I think it’s a good idea. You can clear your head, explore Italy.” “Write a book.” I smile at the look of surprise on her face. “I’ve been thinking about writing a book for a long time, and I refuse to be one of those people who just says I’ve always wanted to write a book for the rest of my life. I’m going to write the damn book.” “Awesome,” she says with a smile. “Is it a love story?” “Probably.” “With lots of sex?” “Maybe I’ll find a hot Italian that I can do research with.” We both laugh and Mallory stands up to hug me. “I’m sorry you’re sad.” “I’m sorry that you can feel that I’m sad. I’m going to be okay. Really.” “I know.