Luann Quotes

Sometimes waiting is the hardest thing of all.

Love is the easiest thing there is. It's the layers of doubt, fear, and expectation that make it complicated.

The biggest mistake any of us can make is thinking that love is a feeling, an emotion. It's not that at all. It's an action.

Goodbyes were impossible, unless you didn't realize you were saying them.

(LuAnn) Whatever. That'll teach me not to build my life around a man whose favorite book is Atlas Shrugged. Listen, kid." She waggles her finger, as if scolding me. "Nothing good comes from Ayn RAnd. Trust me on this.

What the eye couldn’t see, the imagination filled in. We put names to the unexplained. Cast it as something to either fear or worship. And yet just because a thing can’t be seen doesn’t mean it isn’t real.

Clear nights are sometimes the coldest.

The music never leaves. Once you have it, you can't lose it.

Look up.

Judgment is easy: it is black and white, as brutal as a gavel strike.

Our stories remind us how precious and fragile life can be-- and that we must risk our hearts everyday to know happiness.

happy endings start with new beginnings.

Beach girls now, beach girls tomorrow, beach girls till the end of time.

The heart had a tendency to harden off after being forced to survive inside a life two sizes too small, deprived of the oxygen of dreams.

You fall in love with the girl next door but married her sister.

Some feelings are stronger than fear: love, longing, desire.

never judge anyone by their appearance, or the car they drive, or the house they live in, or even by the words they say. judge people by their actions. that's how you know whether they're bad or good." - perfect Summer

We think we've seen it all before, we think we know it all by heart.

Sometimes it's more generous to take than give, he said. "How?" Caroline asked. "To let the other person give you what he has to offer. If you're always the one giving, you never have to feel disappointed, because you don't expect anything in return. But it's miserly in its own way. Because you never leave yourself open or give the other person a chance.

I don't get as much fan mail as an actor or singer would, but when I get a letter 99% of the time it's pointing out something that really had an impact. Like after 'My Own Private Rodeo' all these people wrote to me and said Dale's dad inspired them to come out. And this was when it was still illegal to be gay in Texas and a few other states. Another one that really stuck with me was this girl who survived Columbine. See, "Wings of the Dope," the episode where Luanne's boyfriend comes back as an angel, aired two weeks after the shooting. About a month after that, I got a letter from a girl who was there and hid somewhere in the school when it was all going on. She said the first thing she was gonna do if she survived was tell a friend of hers she was in love with him. She never did. He ended up being one of the kids responsible for it. So you can imagine how - you know, to her, it felt wrong to grieve almost, and she bottled it up. But she saw that episode and Buckley walking away at the end and something just let her finally break down and greive and miss the guy. I remember she quoted Luanne - 'I wonder if he's guardianing some other girl,' or something along that line, because she never had the guts to tell the kid. That really gets to people at Comic Con.

Emboldened by the dark phase of the moon, the constellations twisted round in their infinite sky, slowly corkscrewing into the future, divining immutable futures for those still awake and gazing up.

A good sailor knows everything is always changing.

We put names to the unexplained. Cast it as something to either fear or worship. And yet just because a thing can’t be seen doesn’t mean it isn’t real.

Sometimes you have to act a little crazy just to stay sane.

Mark my words – fashions change, causes change, but men’s ambitions never do.

When we hurt people just to punish them, Luanne used to say, we create a darkness that will live on long after our reasons for giving birth to it have faded.

Worrying doesn’t change anything, just causes unnecessary stress.

Missing pieces do more than complete the puzzle, they fill in an empty space.

she debated the wisdom of not having waited longer for someone more suitably dressed to pass by on the road. Now she regretted how the stolen coat smelled

Intuition knows the truth when heard, but the sound can leave a terrible ringing in the ears.

If you love someone, everything else is crap.

People who don't like doing things together probably...well probably shouldn't get married.

He wouldn't try to make her feel better about something if it meant telling her a lie.

Before dawn, the air smelled of lemons.

Something you always look for, but never know when it's going to happen

The transformation, the struggle between light and dark, that is what propels life forward. That metamorphosis is one’s purpose for existing.

He likes being all superior and reminding me how much I don’t know.” “So you’re saying he’s a man?

He wouldn’t be the first man to learn he’s wrong about something he’s certain about.

She was Elena, disciple of the All Knowing and daughter of the Chanceaux Valley. And she was free.

We are shaped by the loss of our fathers, and others. Because a mother leaving shapes her daughters in deep and inescapable ways. Luann Rice from THE DEEP BLUE SEA FOR BEGINNERS

I can't get past the strange contradiction that seems to lurk behind everything we do. Because no matter what, or who, we end up choosing, all of us feel like we've failed somehow. Kayla feels guilty for planning a future with Blake; Dominique feels guilty that she won't with Carlos. LuAnn dropped everything to make it work with her guy, and I'm filled with shame every time I think about how I did the same thing, building my life around Garrett without realizing it then working just as hard to take that version of my life apart, piece by piece. So how are we supposed to win? On the one hand, the world tells us that capital-L Love is epic, and all conquering, and the meaning of everything, but on the other it drills us with this message that we shouldn't make any sacrifice or effort to pursue it, because that would make us weak, unempowered, desperate, silly girls.

The patients there were mostly teenaged girls, with the occasional boy. I thought of us all as tigers with thorns in our paws. We were beautiful beasts who’d gotten injured by life, by loss or trauma or shock, and if we could just get the splinters out of our paws, we’d be fine. My thorn was the fact that my mother had left me. Megan

Chaos and order rested on two sides of a sharp edge, but so did pain and pleasure. Harmony and discord. There was not one without the other. Always the dance of tension. One could choose which side to lean into if or when the blade tipped off-center.

Conhecia a natureza do corpo humano: que era formado por 97 por cento de água. Que as suas veias continham água salgada, tal como os afluentes sujeitos às marés. Que uma vez por mês, bem, antes da gravidez, o ciclo do seu corpo ecoava o movimento da Lua nas marés dos oceanos

That was really it, her message as a nun and a child of God: listen deeply to your heart. That was how and where God communicated with people. Not so much in burning bushes or on mountaintops, in blue grottos or apparitions of the Virgin Mary, but more often in the depths of their own hearts.

When the truth has been left in the dark too long, its cousins rumor and innuendo are allowed to grow into hideous shapes.

He imagined her being more like a placid dark lake that one had to give their soul over to for the privilege of knowing how deep her waters ran.

Don't let over description ruin your work -less is more. No one cares that you know what "Acquiesce" means. Seriously.

In the absence of sisters, we find sisters. In the absence of mothers, we find mothers. In the absence of family, you are my family.’ 

Love is the greatest blessing there is, and when you love someone as much as he loved you, you can’t let go lightly. You just can’t.

Every day the world subtracts from itself and nothing is immune.

Camille Claudel, Auguste Rodin’s model and thrown-away lover.

Love was a potion as potent as hemlock or wolfsbane

It made her dizzy to think of the spinning world and the multitude of destinies swirling together, fueling the future forward for everyone—individually and collectively.

Water is what people need to survive,” he said. “It quenches the deepest thirst, and you don’t have to be rich to drink it. There’s nothing better than cold water….

Be ready for the gift you least expect. Every day. It’s the only way to live….

faith: belief in light of the absence of proof, enlightenment received through prayer, and that which is seen and unseen….

Summer meant the garden. It meant roses, hollyhocks, larkspur, geraniums. It meant birds. It meant long days and starry nights.

No one’s path stops midlife. It must continue toward its end.

There’s a certain vulgarity in assigning worth to any individual life when each represents a piece in the mosaic of the whole.

But we don't always go to church" -Emily "Caring about people doesn't just take place there. It's how you act out in the world, when no one is looking, where it really counts" -Dad

At night, all the cats are gray.

Power craved power, leading some into dangerous alliances.

Mark my words—fashions change, causes change, but men’s ambitions never do,

All I know is we're 16 and ready to be kissed, kissed kissed.

me, loving someone means carrying them, and feeding them, and holding them when they’re scared. God might be up there”—he nodded his head back, tilting up toward the ceiling—“but I’m down here.

Les pieds de Dieu. Do not tell my superior, but the smell of God’s feet is heaven to me.” The monk smiled. Threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Eight months ago I added milk, rennet, and a little salt together in a wooden vat. Pressed it, shaped it, and put it on the shelf to age. Today I have a delicious cheese to share with a guest. But the flavor, monsieur, that grows from something I did not add.

They say your life flashes before you at the time of death, but for Clea, the lives were not hers, but her grandmother’s and her parents’. She thought of how they had loved her, of what a short time they had had together.

Sierra laughed and looked so happy that it touched his heart. It didn't dawn on him until now that she always looked a little sad. And perhaps lost. Well, if she were lost, he had just found her, and he wasn't about to let her go.

Neither she nor her sister could resist collecting the shiny trinkets that churned up with the river's tide. Rings, bottles, spoons, keys, combs, bones - there was always something new coughed up on the bank, as if the water grew perpetually ill on the taste of human detritus.

Hugh had been her obsession. When he was away, she had assumed he was with other women. It drove her crazy, dominated her thoughts. She had tried to concentrate on her daughters, but her own insecurity was much too huge. When Skye would beg for a story or Clea would need help with her music lessons, Augusta would tell them to ask Caroline. So Augusta could be with Hugh.

Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter to the other. “Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. “Now there is no more loneliness; now you are two persons but there is only one life before you. “Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your life together. “And may your days be good and long upon the earth and in heaven.

It was in that kitchen where I waited for Daddy and Mrs. Masicotte to be finished with the weekly business, two rooms away. Though Mrs. Masicotte seemed as indifferent to me as her renters were, she provided richly for me while I waited. On hand were plates of bakery cookies, thick picture books with shiny pages, punch-out paper dolls. My companion during these vigils was Zahra, Mrs. Masicotte’s fat tan cocker spaniel, who sat at my feet and watched, unblinking, as cookies traveled mercilessly from the plate to my mouth. Mrs. Masicotte and my father laughed and talked loud during their meetings and sometimes played the radio. (Our radio at home was a plastic box; Mrs. Masicotte’s was a piece of furniture.) “Are we going soon?” I’d ask Daddy whenever he came out to the kitchen to check on me or get them another pair of Rheingolds. “A few minutes,” was what he always said, no matter how much longer they were going to be. I wanted my father to be at home laughing with Ma on Saturday afternoons, instead of with Mrs. Masicotte, who had yellowy white hair and a fat little body like Zahra’s. My father called Mrs. Masicotte by her first name, LuAnn; Ma called her, simply, “her.” “It’s her,” she’d tell Daddy whenever the telephone interrupted our dinner. Sometimes, when the meetings dragged on unreasonably or when they laughed too loud in there, I sat and dared myself to do naughty things, then did them. One time I scribbled on all the faces in the expensive storybooks. Another Saturday I waterlogged a sponge and threw it at Zahra’s face. Regularly, I tantalized the dog with the cookies I made sure stayed just out of her reach. My actions—each of which invited my father’s anger—shocked and pleased me.

freeze, so she opted for pants with a thick, nubbly sweater that added substance to her frame. As always, her necklace was in place, and she donned a lovely bright cashmere scarf to keep her neck warm. When she stepped back to appraise herself in the mirror, she felt she looked almost as good as she had before chemotherapy started. Collecting her purse, she took a couple more pills—the pain wasn’t as bad as yesterday, but no reason to risk it—and called an Uber. Pulling up to the gallery a few minutes after closing time, she saw Mark through the window, discussing one of her photographs with a couple in their fifties. Mark offered the slightest of waves when Maggie stepped inside and hurried to her office. On her desk was a small stack of mail; she was quickly sorting through it when Mark suddenly tapped on her open door. “Hey, sorry. I thought they’d make a decision before you arrived, but they had a lot of questions.” “And?” “They bought two of your prints.” Amazing, she thought. Early in the life of the gallery, weeks could go by without the sale of even a single print of hers. And while the sales did increase with the growth of her career, the real renown came with her Cancer Videos. Fame did indeed change everything, even if the fame was for a reason she wouldn’t wish upon anyone. Mark walked into the office before suddenly pulling up short. “Wow,” he said. “You look fantastic.” “I’m trying.” “How do you feel?” “I’ve been more tired than usual, so I’ve been sleeping a lot.” “Are you sure you’re still up for this?” She could see the worry in his expression. “It’s Luanne’s gift, so I have to go. And besides, it’ll help me get into the Christmas spirit.

We're keeping them alive," she said. "Sweetheart, the fence, the wall, is inhumane. People are dying." "That's their choice,"he actually said. "They come here illegally, that's the chance they take." "When did you get so hard?" she asked, holding his face between her hands. "They're human beings like us, looking for a better life for their families. You understand that, don't you? You did it for us." "It's a humanitarian crises," she said. "And you're part of the problem. That's why you can't sleep at night.

Lyle and Luann are strict Pentecostal. They don’t have indoor plumbing, and decades from now, at the time of the trials, they still won’t. They don’t play music. They take in children who need help, they’re kind like that—but sometimes, with Luann’s sternness and the way they keep taking in children even when the cupboards are bare, you never can tell if it’s generosity or if it’s that God won’t give them enough suffering to prove their faith to him, and so they’ll arrange privation themselves.

family

America was full of opportunity, everybody said. You just had to unlock it. Only they forgot to give out keys for LuAnn’s kind. Or maybe they didn’t forget at all. Maybe it was intentional.

You can think you know what's best, what's right for you,and then all of a sudden something happens and turns your plans upside down

The log stretched across the stream. It had been there for some time. Sticks, feathers, and debris had caught on stray branches protruding from one end. The stream flowed beneath the log, lazy and blackish-green, just before it widened and joined the Connecticut River. Pine trees grew thick along one bank, while reeds whispered along the other.

north. The stars had blazed low over the curving hills. Her father had dropped them off hungry, to make them hunt for their food. Sharpening a stick, she had waited in the rushes.

She found the combination intriguing. Because there were three, at all times two sisters holding hands would be facing the same direction. And one would be facing a different way. No matter how you looked at it, two would always be united. And one would be separate. But which two? And which one?

Drunk or just drinking, Skye had passed many hours trying not to think about the hunt, about the gun and Andrew Lockwood, about any of it. She had drunk to get loaded, to get wasted, to get happy, to get sad, because she loved the taste, because she was against killing animals, because her husband liked rough sex, because she had nightmares about snakes under her tent, because her father had stopped loving her, because she hated Swan Lake, because she had gone to Redhawk, because she was mad at her mother for offering to trade her life for Caroline’s, because Skye herself had killed a man dead.

She upset the kids. She told them a really awful story about a pet she had when she was little.” “How bad could a pet story be?” “Well,” Clea said, knowing this fell in the “only in our family” category, “it eviscerated her cats and could have killed my mother in her sleep. I’d say that’s good for a few nightmares, wouldn’t you?

EVERYONE THOUGHT QUINN was watching Meet the Press with Grandma, even Grandma. Lying on the sofa, covered with an afghan, Quinn had simply rolled off and stuffed pillows under the covers while Grandma stared at the screen. Then she had sidled upstairs, out her bedroom window, and down the oak tree growing right by the house.

Well, what do you know,” I whispered in disbelieve.

I picked up the paced toward the shop. A

any Park Avenue eatery. When we entered, a man motioned for us to follow without having to tell him whom we were meeting. He

You’d be wise to remember whom you’re talking to, Isabetta,” he

I asked why all us kids had saints’ names, my father had said, “Because life throws so much at us. We want you to remember to be kind, patient, and tolerant. To have empathy for other people, care about them. And to have that extra help, your own saint backing you.” “But we don’t always go to church,” I’d pointed out. “Caring about people doesn’t just take place there. It’s how you act out in the world, when no one is looking, where it really counts.

If the night sky were any brighter, I would have thrown my bloody hands in the air and waited for the Chatham County police to drive by and question me about the hole I was digging.

City raised and book fed, intelligent and generous, yes, and yet malnourished when it came to a belief in the profound.

We were fortunate to have finished

Magic like his father had told him about on firelit nights when the wind howled outside and the veil between worlds thinned enough to fear for your soul should you sit too near the window. Chapter Twenty-Five Moonlight rippled on the river’s surface, drawing Edwina back to the water.

to

Colorful characters animate this magical tale with an environmental message." Kirkus

Colorful characters animate this magical tale with an environmental message. From Kirkus.

What flaw was it in their ape brains that convinced them their schemes were paramount to everyone else’s?

Work?” Sixtus asked.

gone out somewhere—had he