Lyon Quotes

She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind.

I have never seen battles quite as terrifyingly beautiful as the ones I fight when my mind splinters and races, to swallow me into my own madness, again.

She will blaze through you like a gypsy wildfire. Igniting you soul and dancing in its flames. And when she is gone, the smell of her smoke will be the only thing left to soothe you.

Beauty is like a train that ceaselessly roars out of the Gare de Lyon and which I know will never leave, which has not left. It consists of jolts and shocks, many of which do not have much importance, but which we know are destined to produce one Shock, which does...The human heart, beautiful as a seismograph...Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or will not be at all.

Meltdown when we get home. Mom keeps chocolate for meltdowns. Daddy always has them when Uncle Jonas visits." -David Lyons from Tanner's Scheme-

This isn't some kind of game for me. I love you, Ivy Lyons, and one day you're going to believe me. - Tristan Carruthers -

All that I know is that Claire Lyons should consider herself done, done and you know what else? DONE!

I hope that someday when I am gone, someone, somewhere, picks my soul up off of these pages and thinks, "I would have loved her.

She will rise. With a spine of steel and a roar like thunder, she will rise.

There is no better place to heal a broken heart than on the back of a horse.

She is of the strangest beauty and the darkest courage, and when she walks with intent the earth trembles beneath her feet.

I have licked the fire and danced in the ashes of every bridge I ever burned. I fear no hell from you.

Lyon knew she wasn't aware she was being watched, either. She wouldn't have eaten the leaf otherwise, or reached for another. “Sir, which one is Princess Christina?” Andrew asked Lyon, just as Rhone started in choking on his laughter. Rhone has obviously been watching Christina, too. “Sir?” “The blond-headed one,” Lyon muttered, shaking his head. He watched in growing disbelief as Christina daintily popped another leaf into her mouth. “Which blond-headed one?” Andrew persisted. “The one eating the shrubs.

Boy trouble, huh?" "Boy catastrophe is more like it. I'm not sure I can do this." "Do what?" Concern sounded in Holiday's voice. "Do Lucas," Kylie said. Holiday made a funny face and raised one eyebrow.

The glory of God is the human person fully alive.

The stupid vamp just asked me to marry him. Here, now? As if looking like I just died is how I wanted to be proposed to." Joy did a lap around Kylie's heart. "And you said?" Holiday took a sip of water. "I asked him if we couldn't just live together in sin." "And?" "He told me it wouldn't be a good example to our students. So...I agreed to marry him." She pushed a hand against her forehead. "Dear God, what am I getting myself into?

I divide all readers into two classes: those who read to remember and those who read to forget.

Take some very deep breaths," Miranda said. "Relax. Concentrate. Then envision a frosty six-pack and wiggle your pinky." A frosty six-pack. Kylie inhaled. He held out her pinky, and right then Della chimed in. "We are talking a six=pack of soda, not a cold guy with good-looking abs, right?" There was a strange kind of sizzle in the air. And suddenly appearing in front of the refrigerator was a shirtless, shivering guy with great abs. His blue eyes studied the three of them in complete bafflement. "What the...!" he muttered. Kylie gasped. Miranda giggled. Della snorted with laughter.

The happiest people are those who think the most interesting thoughts. Those who decide to use leisure as a means of mental development, who love good music, good books, good pictures, good company, good conversation, are the happiest people in the world. And they are not only happy in themselves, they are the cause of happiness in others.

Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand - and melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late.

I am a world of uncertainties disguised as a girl.

Life is just a slide. Back and forth between loving and leaving, remembering and forgetting, holding on and letting go.

We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand... and melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late.

Could she learn to like this guy? "“It's nice to meet you." Kylie plastered a warm expression on her face. But she worried he could tell it was a sham. "The pleasure is all mine," he said. Kylie just smiled. He was completely right about that.

I am a lover of words and tragically beautiful things, poor timing and longing, and all things with soul, and I wonder if that means I am entirely broken, or if those are the things that have been keeping me whole.

I run. I kick. I punch. I listen. I write. I give. I live. Stars above, I live.

This is the final test of a gentleman: His respect for those who can be of no possible service to him.

each time it would hurt less, and afterward she would love Lyon less, until one day there would be nothing left — no hurt, and no love. She

Yesterday is a cancelled check; tomorrow is a promissory note; today is the only cash you have - so spend it wisely.

– Diana: “Christina said the strangest thing.” – Lyon: “Of course she did.

Error never shows itself in its naked reality, in order not to be discovered. On the contrary, it dresses elegantly, so that the unwary may be led to believe that it is more truthful than truth itself.

The amazing activity of the cat is delicately balanced by his capacity for relaxation. Every household should contain a cat, not only for decorative and domestic values, but because the cat in quiescence is medicinal to irritable, tense, tortured men and women.

Error, indeed is never set forth in its naked deformity, lest, being thus exposed, it should at once be detected. But it is craftily decked out in an attractive dress, so as, by its outward form, to make it appear to the inexperienced more true than truth itself.

Darcy- "What's worse then a pissed of Chuck Norris?" Pheonix- "What?" Darcy- "A pissed off witch.

In paginis mundus invenimus. In verbis vitam inveniimus. In pages, we find words. In words, we find life.

Love isn't always clean and pretty--sometimes it's messy, cruel, and confusing. And sometimes, it doesn't turn out the way you want it to. But then, the beauty of love is that it's very strong, and when it's real, it's worth it.

It is not how much we love and appreciate someone, it is how much they know it

She pushed a dagger into my hands. "And now you are a man with a knife. Woe to the Empire.

He stood up. "Let's go." The sun spilling through the window hit his chest, making his bare skin look even more golden. "That's okay," she sputtered. "You don't have to...tag along." "Yes, I do. I'm your shadow until after breakfast." Oh great. Her gaze slipped down to his open shirt again. Was she going to have to look, or try not to look, at his chest all morning? "Then at least button your shirt." The words were out before she realised how that sounded. The disappointment in his eyes vanished and a sexy twinkle took its place. The twinkle brought out the gold flecks in his irises, which she used to admire so much. "Why?" he asked. "Does it bother you?" She glared at him. "Don't go there.

I just know when I quit looking to other people for directions, I found my own map.

Sometimes the things that protect us are the same things that limit our freedoms.

Saskia groaned again. She threw back her bed covers, the last vestiges of sleep leaving her. It would be evening in Lyon. Clarissa would be expecting to hear from her. A call-in at least once every 24 hours was part of several protocols Clarissa had established. The instruction at the end of the conversation, “Give the dogs a pat for me”, reassured Clarissa that all was well. Leave the words out, replace any one of the words in the sentence with another or not place a call in a 24-hour period, and Clarissa would alert authorities. In her younger years, Clarissa had served in the British army. Her experiences in those years had caused the trauma she now lived with, though she used her expertise by teaching her three partners basic self-defence, how to operate firearms and how to wield weapons. She also programmed their watches and phones to enable her to constantly track their whereabouts, explaining, “I want to know that my three charges are safe”. Another protocol was to always check accommodation venues for listening devices. Saskia did this before calling Clarissa. “Clarissa. Ça va?” “What have you to report?

I hold you in the safest place I keep. Somewhere between memories and scars.

They say she is too much to handle, but when the moon pulls the tide and the wolves howl her name, blessed are the ones who have been taken by her wild.

God has three answers to our prayers: 1. Yes 2. Not yet 3. I have something better in mind anonymous

Introverts aren't unfriendly, they just don't give a damn whether or not you like them.

But I give you my word, in the entire book there is nothing that cannot be said aloud in mixed company. And there is, also, nothing that makes you a bit the wiser. I wonder--oh, what will you think of me--if those two statements do not verge upon the synonymous.

Eudora stands back and appraises what’s left of her life. It doesn’t look like much, but then what are humans when it comes down to it? We arrive with nothing, accumulate far too much, and leave with nothing.

You are never alone when lost in a good book.

He who was the Son of God became the Son of man, that man ... might become the son of God.

The deepest pain I ever felt was denying my own feelings to make everyone else comfortable.

I promised to touch your soul. I never said it would be painless.

Those eyes, seemingly without mystery, are like certain closed cities, such as Lyons and Zurich, and they hypnotize me as do empty theaters, deserted prisons, machinery at rest, deserts, for deserts are closed and do not communicate with the infinite.

Knowledge is the sharpest of weapons.

Whatever it is that stirs your soul, listen to that. Everything else is just noise.

If you do not have a moral question in your governing process, then you do not have a process that is going to survive.

I don’t drink coffee,” she said, taking a sip from her tea. “Coffee is for Americans and Protestants. Irish people should drink tea. That’s how we were brought up after all. Give me a nice cup of Lyons and I’m content.” “I don’t mind the occasional cup of Barry’s myself.” “No, that’s from Cork.

It's the wife's duty, isn't it, to be submissive to her husband?" Christina asked. "It is," Lyon answered. His hands moved to the fastenings on her dress. "Oh, yes, it definitely is." "Then I shall be submissive, Lyon," Christina announced. "When it suits me.

True love does not have limits or restrictions. True love allows a person to love deeply and unconditionally. True love does not ask you to let go of life. True love encourages you to live.

It’s funny how you can miss someone desperately when they’re standing right in front of you.

There’s always music playing somewhere. You just have to listen.

Knowledge is always one of the fiercest of advantages a lady can have.

The most truthful answers are found through observation. Words allow lies.

Sometimes love is nothing more than a sticky web; illusions spun from clever minds and bitter hearts.

If I could claw the words out of the back of my throat and give them, dripping of me, to you, we would talk of sticky hands, and the messes they make.

Sometimes the true punishment for miscreants and wrongdoers is having to be the person that they are.

Just a kiss, Kitten.” “Kitten?” No one called her that. His mouth curved. “You’re skittish, wanting my touch, but afraid. Deciding if you want to claw me or purr for me. Like a kitten.” She lifted an eyebrow. “What if I claw you?” “Bring it, baby. That

I feel alive when you kiss me.

You cannot blame all women for the faults of one.

If at first you don't succeed, find out if the loser gets anything

He is good and kind and honorable. He is my north star after being lost for too long.

Someone should write a book about how Alice Liddell from Wonderland falls in love with Huckleberry Finn. I might rather want to read that book.

Thanks. I'm trying a new look called Kidnapped and Pissed.

Big waves start from small ripples. Avalanches begin with a single pebble.

Give your brain a break and read a book.

Just because you may live your life in recovery, surely doesn't mean the PARTY IS OVER, Nope!, it just means you can remember what you DID LAST NIGHT!".LOL

I am a monster. The worst kind of monster. The kind that people have told stories about for thousands of years. The kind that daredevils like poor Walt seek out, even though many believe I’m nothing more than a myth.

How can someone who has no mouth filter and kills with more glee than I thought humanly possible also coo over seedlings?” “Because they’re my babies. And mamas love their babies.

There is a time to laugh and a time not to laugh, and this is not one of them". -- Inspector Clouseau

Life is precious and as long as we have a reason to continue, we should follow that path.

And that is the nature of us poets and whores, to make things hard: dicks, choices... life.

Life will go on as long as there is someone to sing, to dance, to tell stories and to listen.

May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you are going, and the insight to know when you have gone too far.

When your horse follows you without being asked, when he rubs his head on yours, and when you look at him and feel a tingle down your spine...you know you are loved.

It's nice to meet you." Kylie plastered a warm expression on her face. But she worried he could tell it was a sham. "The pleasure is all mine," he said. Kylie just smiled. He was completely right about that.

Authors can only allow readers to learn so much about their characters. As much as they try to build someone three dimensionally on a page, words are still limited and subject to imagination and interpretation

Those who decide to use leisure as a means of mental development, who love good music, good books, good pictures, good company, good conversation, are the happiest people in the world.

And, baby, I can’t put my hands on you…” he pressed his hips to her lower back, the hard ridge of his erection branding her, “…and not strip us both to our skin and fuck you until you’re screaming in pleasure.” His warm mouth brushed her neck. “No fear, just pleasure,” Excerpt From: Lyon, Jennifer. “The Proposition.” iBooks. This material may be protected by copyright.

Life isn't filled with perfect harmony. The world is littered with bum notes, off-key moments and tuneless episodes. The trick is to find your own music, to ignore the discord and sing your own tune.

It’s hard to hear others when your own words overwhelm your thoughts.

..."Hence," goes on the professor, "definitions of happiness are interesting." I suppose the best thing to do with that is to let is pass. Me, I never saw a definition of happiness that could detain me after train-time, but that may be a matter of lack of opportunity, of inattention, or of congenital rough luck. If definitions of happiness can keep Professor Phelps on his toes, that is little short of dandy. We might just as well get on along to the next statement, which goes like this: "One of the best" (we are still on definitions of happiness) "was given in my Senior year at college by Professor Timothy Dwight: 'The happiest person is the person who thinks the most interesting thoughts.'" Promptly one starts recalling such Happiness Boys as Nietzche, Socrates, de Maupassant, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, William Blake, and Poe." -Review of the book, Happiness, by (Professor) William Lyon Phelps. Review title: The Professor Goes in for Sweetness and Light; November 5, 1927

You draw a line in the sand and say you won’t cross it, you won’t believe or do a particular thing. But once you’ve grown accustomed to the unbelievable, or you’ve done what you’ve sworn you’d never do, you redraw the line a little farther back. You let the waves wash the first away like it never existed.

If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit” seems like the motto not just for Chopra but for the entire conference. Benioff and his philanthropy, the dry ice and fog machines, the concerts and comedians: None of this has anything to do with software or technology. It’s a show, created to entertain people, boost sales, and fluff a stock price.

Answer me, Kat. Did you see him in Lyon?" "Yes. For a second. It was--" "Why didn't you tell me?" Hale moved toward her, and she was glad for the dark. "Everything was happening so fast and... it was just for a second!" There was an anger in Hale's eyes, but something more than that. A hurt went deepr than Kat had ever seen. "You should've told me." Nick laughed. "I don't think she reports to you." "You really don't get it, new guy." Hale shook his head and stepped away. "She doesn't report to anyone." When Hale turned and started for the opposite side of the deck, Kat was the only one who followed. "I kissed you!" Kat hadn't meant to yell it, but she wasn't exactly sorry she did. The words had been there, throbbing like a pulse for weeks. She felt lighter without them--one more thing she didn't have to carry. "In New York--in the limo-- I kissed you." Hale stopped. "I remember." "I kissed you and you left. So either I am not someone you want to be kissing..." "No." He shook his head slowly. "That's not it." "Or I am a really bad kisser." Kat couldn't stop herself from going through the reasons--through the options--like it was just another con and she could master it if only her mind would stop spinning. "Kat--" He reached for her, but her reflexes were too strong. She pulled away and looked at him. "I kissed you and you left.

Destinies, are like roads. Relationships are much like destinies. Therefore, relationships are like roads. Some roads are circular. They start at one spot and end in the same. Some roads fork and force. Their travelers to choose which way to go. Some roads go great distances. And then there are those that end abruptly. Who is to say that a short road is less meaningful than a long?

When ACOG (American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists) claims that home birth and midwives are unsafe, they imply that the women who choose it and the midwives that provide it are acting irresponsibly and selfishly. They stigmatize normal birth just as the political right has stigmatized abortion. And they stigmatize women. "Our country has created a mythology of women who are irresponsible and don't care," says Paltrow. "We talk about welfare queens, crack moms, and murderous women who have abortions." A culture that allows such language to permeate our national subconscious inevitably dehumanizes all women, including mothers. Lyon argues that this thinking perpetuates a phrase often invoked in exam rooms and delivery rooms: The goal is to have a healthy baby. "This phrase is used over and over and over to shut down women's requests," she says. "The context needs to be that the goal is a healthy mom. Because mothers never make decisions without thinking about that healthy baby. And to suggest otherwise is insulting and degrading and disrespectful." What's best for women is best for babies. ... The goal is to have a healthy family.

He [Jesus] fought and conquered. On the one hand, he was man who struggled for his fathers and through his obedience cancelled their disobedience. On the other hand, he bound the strong one and freed the weak and bestowed salvation on his handiwork by abolishing sin. For he is our compassionate and merciful Lord who loves mankind ... Had not man conquered man's adversary, the enemy would not have been conquered justly. Again, had it not been God who bestowed salvation we would not possess it securely.

But in a private library, you can at any moment converse with Socrates or Shakespeare or Carlyle or Dumas or Dickens or Shaw or Barrie or Galsworthy. And there is no doubt that in these books you see these men at their best. They wrote for you. They "laid themselves out," they did their ultimate best to entertain you, to make a favorable impression. You are necessary to them as an audience is to an actor; only instead of seeing them masked, you look into their innermost heart of heart.

There are multiple ways to label people, as you may well know. In the literate world, we can simplify this in that there are readers and non-readers. Within the readers category, we can further label people by how passionate they are with the books they choose. Some people escape into the stories they read. Some read for purpose or information. Some read out of resentment or necessity. But let us, in this moment, focus on those who find books to be an escape or an extension of their imagination. These readers see, within their mind’s eye, the characters and settings in the pages below their fingers. They feel the emotions woven between the words. They live through every heartache, every embrace, every terror. Books, to these people, become tangible, living things. The characters they read become genuine souls.” A half smile curves his lips. “People like this are often accused of living within their fantasies. They’re said to have their noses stuck in books. But the reality is that some of these people actually do escape into books.

When the attachment figure is also a threat to the child, two systems with conflicting goals are activated simultaneously or sequentially: the attachment system, whose goal is to seek proximity, and the defense systems, whose goal is to protect. In these contexts, the social engagement system is profoundly compromised and its development interrupted by threatening conditions. This intolerable conflict between the need for attachment and the need for defense with the same caregiver results in the disorganized–disoriented attachment pattern (Main & Solomon, 1986). A contradictory set of behaviors ensues to support the different goals of the animal defense systems and of the attachment system (Lyons-Ruth & Jacobvitz, 1999; Main & Morgan, 1996; Steele, van der Hart, & Nijenhuis, 2001; van der Hart, Nijenhuis, & Steele, 2006). When the attachment system is stimulated by hunger, discomfort, or threat, the child instinctively seeks proximity to attachment figures. But during proximity with a person who is threatening, the defensive subsystems of flight, fight, freeze, or feigned death/shut down behaviors are mobilized. The cry for help is truncated because the person whom the child would turn to is the threat. Children who suffer attachment trauma fall into the dissociative–disorganized category and are generally unable to effectively auto- or interactively regulate, having experienced extremes of low arousal (as in neglect) and high arousal (as in abuse) that tend to endure over time (Schore, 2009b). In the context of chronic danger, patterns of high sympathetic dominance are apt to become established, along with elevated heart rate, higher cortisol levels, and easily activated alarm responses. Children must be hypervigilantly prepared and on guard to avoid danger yet primed to quickly activate a dorsal vagal feigned death state in the face of inescapable threat. In the context of neglect, instead of increased sympathetic nervous system tone, increased dorsal vagal tone, decreased heart rate, and shutdown (Schore, 2001a) may become chronic, reflecting both the lack of stimulation in the environment and the need to be unobtrusive.