Love Travers Quotes

I can’t be with someone and want them to think that I am worth it when I don’t think I am. I need to find me.

I fish because I love to. Because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly. Because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape. Because in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing what they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion. Because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed, or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility, and endless patience. Because I suspect that men are going this way for the last time and I for one don't want to waste the trip. Because mercifully there are no telephones on trout waters. Because in the woods I can find solitude without loneliness. ... And finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important, but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant and not nearly so much fun.

Mary Poppins sighed with pleasure, however, when she saw three of herself, each wearing a blue coat with silver buttons and a blue hat to match. She thought it was such a lovely sight that she wished there had been a dozen of her or even thirty. The more Mary Poppins the better.

Well, all right. Something in what you say, I suppose. Consider you treacherous worm and contemptible, spineless cowardly custard, but have booked Spink-Bottle. Stay where you are, then, and I hope you get run over by an omnibus. Love. Travers

The Nice Guy is not a nice guy, he's not kind, respectful or honest. He's a chameleon. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Real love is not the pretty stuff of the jongleurs. It is a feeling inside that you are one with this man, no matter what he is. Were Travers to sell his soul to the Devil, I would still love him and mayhaps I would bargain for a good price myself.

A lawyer caught in the toils of a murder case is like a man newly fallen in love: his involvement is total.

Il parvint à la reconnaitre au milieu du tumulte et, à travers les larmes de sa douleur irrémédiable de mourir sans elle, la regarda une dernière fois, pour toujours et à jamais, avec les yeux les plus lumineux, les plus tristes et les plus reconnaissants qu'elle lui eut vus en un demi-siècle de vie commune, et il réussit à lui dire dans un dernier souffle: << Dieu seul sait combien je t'ai aimée >>

Kill the fucking Nice Guy in you. Seriously, bury all relation you have to that guy. The Nice Guy is not a nice guy, he's not kind, respectful or honest. He's a chameleon. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing.

If you imagine for one moment that you are going to get out of distributing those prizes, you are very much mistaken. Deeply regret Brinkley Court hundred miles from London, as unable hit you with a brick. Love. Travers.

Puisque tu existes, comme toi seule sais exister, il n'était peut-être pas très nécessaire que ce livre existât. J'ai cru pouvoir en décider autrement, en souvenir de la conclusion que je voulais lui donner avant de te connaître et que ton irruption dans ma vie n'a pas à mes yeux rendue vaine. Cette conclusion ne prend même son vrai sens et toute sa force qu'à travers toi.

You have lots of ass and tons of tits babe. I can’t wait to get you naked so I can see everything you are hiding under those clothes. I’m a big guy, babe. I don’t want a woman who eats a piece of lettuce and gets full. The woman I want laying under me needs to be able to take me and everything I give. A pretty face and a bag of bones for a body do not do it for me. When I saw you clamoring to get off the floor at the store after helping my mom, I knew you were going to be in my bed.

The U.S. Olympic eight-oared crew was as cool as could be, though. Every afternoon they boarded a boat and made their way out to the New York Athletic Club’s private retreat, Huckleberry Island, a mile off Travers Island, out in the cool waters of Long Island Sound. The island was twelve acres of paradise, and the boys fell in love with it the moment they stepped out of their launch and onto a beach in one of its many small granite coves, wearing the Indian headbands with turkey feathers that club members donned whenever they visited the island. They leapt off stone ledges, plunged into the cool green water of the sound, swam, horsed around, then stretched out on warm flat slabs of granite, toasting themselves brown before plunging back into the water again.

Le visage de la jeune femme était toujours zébré par les profondes cicatrices que le Rat lui avait infligées quand elle était enfant: un X en travers de ses lèvres charnues, un autre sur une joue, un croissant reliant le coin de l'oeil au coin de la bouche. Kylar les remarqua à peine. Il ne vit qu'une peau resplendissante, des yeux pétillants d'intelligence et de bonheur, un sourire en biais du fait de l'espièglerie et non des balafres. Comment une femme pouvait-elle être si ravissante avec de simples vpêtements en laine et un tablier de domestique? Un tel mystère le dépassait.

Now the liberals hate to admit this and won't, but something like what happened in America's Southern states between the late 1960s and late 1970s cannot be explained by an factor other than the miraculous curing powers of a loving God. Many reasons and theories may be expounded but as the old saying goes, "the truth shall set ye free".

Know that love without strength leads to victimhood, and strength without love leads to tyranny.

Now here's how to be dangerous, but not a danger you find your fucking heart - and stop hiding from your pain. You place your hand on your chest and you leave it there for the rest of your life. You never forget your capacity to feel, to love, and to be loved.

Je m'appelle Pauline et je vais avoir 30 ans. J’aime écrire pour me libérer de toutes sortes d’émotions, tantôt positives tantôt négatives. Je peux passer des heures à écrire sur un sujet que je tiens énormément comme la rencontre, l’amour ou encore le voyage. Concernant ma vie privée, je suis une personne très épanouie en amour. Et c’est pour cette raison que j’ai créé Le French Kiss avec mon partenaire. C’est à travers cette plateforme que je partage mes astuces pour rencontrer l’âme-soeur. Je tiens à préciser que je ne suis pas “un docteur Love” et encore moins un coach de rencontre. En revanche, j’ai décidé de venir en aide aux célibataires qui cherchent un amoureux(se), car tout le monde mérite de trouver le grand amour.

Love without strength leads to victimhood, and strength without love leads to tyranny.

Fight. Fight for the love of your partner. Fight for the love of your children. Fight for the man staring triumphantly, broken or anything in between , in the reflection of your mirror.

Fight. Fight for the love of your partner. Fight for the love of your children. Fight for the man staring triumphantly, broken or anything in between, in the reflection of your mirror.

If you are a nice guy, you are living someone else's life.

The feminine needs two things more than anything else in the world: trust and safety.

When you learn to fall in love with your breath. With the rise and fall of your chest. With the purity of the present moment in all its heartbreaking or heart-opening glory. When you fall in love with whatever the moment presents you, the world is yours for the taking and the crown upon your head fits true.

We exist to end the suffering in men and to end the suffering that men cause.

I can only thank the good Lord above,” she began after she turned back to him and Mr. Hodges assumed his usual stoic demeanor, “that your father and brother are away on business at the moment, because, well, I’m sure they’d have quite a bit to say regarding your current circumstance.” She released the tiniest of sighs. “Honestly, Edgar, one would have thought, considering you failed so spectacularly to win Wilhelmina’s hand the first time you proposed to her, that you would have tried a little more diligently to pull off a romantic moment the second time around.” “And one would have thought, considering how put out you’ve been at Wilhelmina over her rejecting my proposal all those years ago, that you would be trying to figure out a way to get me out of marrying her rather than marrying her.” “I’ve always adored Wilhelmina,” Nora said with a rattle of the paper she was still holding. “And while I’m sure I did lend the impression of being put out with her, that was mostly for your benefit, dear.” Edgar’s mouth dropped open. “Do not tell me that you’ve been holding out hope all these years for something like this to happen.” “I must admit that I have, and . . . now it would seem as if that hope was not misplaced if a wedding does indeed occur between the two of you in the foreseeable future.” Reaching for his tea again, Edgar drained the cup and set it aside. “I’m hesitantly optimistic that a wedding may soon take place, especially since I have come to realize that I still love Wilhelmina. I find her to be a most enchanting creature, and I would be a lucky gentleman indeed if she would truly agree to become my wife.” Nora frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand why you’re only hesitantly optimistic about marrying Wilhelmina. You’ve mentioned a time or two now that you told Mrs. Travers you were to be married, and while I know you’ve been away from society for quite some time, surely you haven’t forgotten that, as a gentleman, you have no choice but to go through with the wedding. And, as a lady, Wilhelmina can’t refute your declaration, not if she wants to keep her reputation, and . . . she can forget about continuing on as a social secretary if she doesn’t go through with the marriage because she’ll be looked at forevermore as a woman of loose moral values.” She rattled the paper again. “Add in the article Miss Quill published, and I can say with all certainty that there will be a wedding to plan, whether Wilhelmina has doubts or not.” Turning

Le Puits mystérieux À travers la forêt de folles arabesques Que le doigt du sommeil trace au mur de mes nuits, Je vis, comme l’on voit les Fortunes des fresques, Un jeune homme penché sur la bouche d’un puits. Il jetait, par grands tas, dans cette gueule noire Perles et diamants, rubis et sequins d’or, Pour faire arriver l’eau jusqu’à sa lèvre, et boire ; Mais le flot flagellé ne montait pas encor. Hélas ! que d’imprudents s’en vont aux puits, sans corde, Sans urne pour puiser le cristal souterrain, Enfouir leur trésor afin que l’eau déborde, Comme fit le corbeau dans le vase d’airain ! Hélas ! et qui n’a pas, épris de quelque femme, Pour faire monter l’eau du divin sentiment, Jeté l’or de son cœur au puits sans fond d’une âme, Sur l’abîme muet penché stupidement !