M Perri Quotes

You think I'm pretty Without any make-up on You think I'm funny When I tell the puch line wrong I know you get me So I'll let my walls come down, down

I'm tired of being your best friend. I'm tired of being second best. I won't settle for that anymore. It's all or nothing, Schuyler. You have to decide. Him or me. - Oliver Hazzard-Perry

I'm just enjoying my life.I suggest you try it.

I love you Perry,” he whispered, mouth moving in my hair. “I love you so fucking much. And I’m losing myself. I’m losing myself to you and I don’t care anymore because there’s never been a better feeling in the whole fucking world. I love you. So much. Too much. Always.

I like what I like and not what I'm supposed to like because of mass rating. And I very much dislike the things I don't like.

I’m not the biggest fan of confrontation. I ask a lot of questions. Just not out loud.

I feel like I’m a disappointment to mankind,” he remarked woefully as he placed the shirt through my arms and began to pull it down over my breasts. “Someone this gorgeous should be on display in a museum.

Love is a rebellious bird that nobody can tame. He looked up, meeting her eyes. 'I'm called Peregrine. Like the falcon. People call me Perry.' She smiled. 'We're alike, Perry. My voice is called a falcon soprano.' His hand brushed past her cheek and slid into her hair. 'We're the same, Aria.

Perry, I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. I’m not going to stop showing you off or rubbing it in to everyone I know, anytime soon … You’re mine. And you’re mine alone. From now until the end of time.

Do you think you should warn him (the guard) that I'm going to kiss you?" He loved the flush that appeared on her face, and there was an intake of breath from the girls. "Aldron," she said clearing her throat,"if he agrees to become king, I'm going to let him kiss me. Please don't stop him." Aldron thought for a moment and sighed, holding up his hand. "Wait there and do not move," he ordered Finnikin, before calling out to one of the other guards who stood on the platform. "Ask Perri if he's allowed to touch her if he's agreed to be king.

I’m not the kind of man who gives up what’s good. And we’re good. We’re fucking good, honey.

Her hand holding his for a dozen paces. His, resting on the small of her back for a moment. Touches that had no real purpose but to say I’m here and We are together still.

And don't you know I'm not your ghost, anymore.

I hope that you see right through my walls I hope that you catch me 'cause I'm already falling I'll never let our love get so close You put your arms around me and I'm home

Be patient? That's all you've got for me?" Steve complained ten minutes later. Kylie glanced up at Perry, circling them as they sat behind the office, and then frowned at Steve. "I don't know why everyone thinks I'm the love guru.

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar They're worth so much more after I'm a goner And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin' Funny when you're dead how people start listenin

If I'm away from you for more than an hour, I can't stop thinking about you. I carry you in my spirit. I pray for you more than I pray for myself...I know you don't believe in fairy tales. But, if you did, I'd want to be your knight in shining armor. You've been through so much. I don't want to see you hurt anymore. Now I may not be able to give you all that your used to. But I do know I can love you past your pain. I don't want you to worry about anything. You just wake up in the morning, that's all you have to do and I'll take it from there...There's one condition...You have to be my wife

Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you.

I'm a romantic and I kinda believed in this fairy tale. And in some ways I think that's always been to my advantage, because like if you can believe in something great, I feel like you can achieve something great.

Now, all these years later, I’m certain that I got famous so I would not waste my entire life trying to get famous. You have to get famous to know that it’s not the answer. And nobody who is not famous will ever truly believe that.

.......You have every right to hate me for this lifetime and many others. You have every right to never see me again. To spit on my grave. But tonight, now, I'm not going to give up on you or," his voice fell with weight, "die trying.

I'm going to take them. I'm going to take all your bests. Every damn one until you cant keep track of the top five anymore because there are so many bests that you'll need a hundred to capture them all. Promise. I swear it.

It ruffles me a bit, not being able to tell apart my best friend from my girlfriend from this distance. But then one of the figures dashes across the sandy trail and jumps into my arms and I'm reasonably sure it's Liv and not Perry.

You can't go on like you're going to start really living one day like all this is some preamble to some great life thats magically going to appear. I'm a firm believer that you have to create your own miracles, don't hold out that there's something better waiting on the other side. It doesn't work that way. When you're gone, you're gone. Don't wait.

Somewhere along the line, you stole my heart. I’m going to steal yours in return. Just wait and see.

I need you to know that the best place in the world will always be next to you. I'm there until you send me away." Brian

I am me. And that should be enough, it always has been enough. I was the one who didn’t get that. And now I do. I’m an actor, I’m a writer. I’m a person. And a good one at that. I want good things for myself, and others, and I can continue to work for these things. There is a reason I’m still here. And figuring out why is the task that has been put in front of me. And it will be revealed. There is no rush, no desperation. Just the fact that I am here, and I care about people, is the answer. Now when I wake up, I wake up curious, wondering what the world has in store for me, and I for it. And that’s enough to go on.

I'm only human, and I bleed when I fall down.

I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing, but I’m having a conversation with Winnie,” Skyler said, standing taller. “And I’m here to give her an orgasm before dinner. Let’s find out which one of us she’d rather have stick around.” 

I cook for you because it’s how I show someone I care. I cook for you because I love the look on your face after that first bite. I cook for you because I’d rather cook for you than anyone else.” “What?” My jaw dropped. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with you, woman.” My mouth was still open. Which suited Knox just fine. Because he raised his hands, framed my face. Then sealed his lips over mine.

Go out with me tomorow night," Perry went on. "Let me prove to you that I'm the guy you want." "I...I guess I coul go out tomorrow night," Miranda sounded shocked and a little swept off her feet. Then, from the corner of her eyes. Kylie saw something move at the office window. When she looked back, she spotted Burnett and Holiday standing there high-fiving each other. No doubt Burnett was listening to the coversation and sharing the details with Holiday. Perry nodded, stepped closer, and then pressed a quick kiss on Miranda's cheek. It had to be the most romantic thing Kylie had ever seen. ..."What?" Miranda asked. "You're happy my date [with Todd] wasn't exciting?" "No," Kylie said. "Let's just say we're more excited about tomorrow night's date." A bright smile lit up Miranda's face. "Me too. Can you believ Perry did that? I mean, he was so..." "Romantic," Kylie said. "Hot," Della added. "Sweet," Miranda whispered. "I couldn't stop thinkibng about him all night." And that was the best news Kylie had gotten all day.

I am teaching Perry grammar. He says he wants to learn to speak properly. I told him he should not call his Aunt Tom an old beast but he said he had to because she wasn't a young beast.

I can't dance, remember?" I whispered. "It's just a tango. It is like sex, except with clothes on." Then, squeezing me closer: "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot, you do not know how to do that either.

You asked me back then if I believed in fate. I didn’t until I met you. And I’ve spent nine years thinking I’d never see your face again. But fate brought you back into my life and I’m not going to mess it up again.

I am in no way an adrenaline-seeker. I’m much more of an irritable bowel syndrome kind of gal, really. And rest assured, my bowels were highly irritated by all the stress.

It's hard to categorize the half expressions, the ones which reside in between. But this morning, I'm calling Perry mad by sadwest.

Deana Carter sings about it. Lady Antebellum sings about it. Eric Church. Gosh, not just country artists. Katy Perry. Everybody has a song about it because everybody's been through it. You find that person at eighteen and you lose yourself. And the tragedy is, it's the person who's completely opposed to everything you've ever wanted. You bond with that person, and that person breaks your heart. I'm that tragedy for you, and you're mine.

It's killing me not to do everything in my power to beg you to be with me. To wait for me, because I'm waiting for you. Waiting to tell you over and over how much I still love you...

You can't go on like you're going to start really living one day like all this is some preamble to some great life that's magically going to appear. I'm a firm believer that you have to create your own miracles, don't hold out that there's something waiting on the other side. It doesn't work that way. When you're gone, you're gone. There's no pearly white gates with an open bar and all the Midori you can drink. You get one go-around and you gotta make it count. I know that it sounds harsh, but it's true. Don’t wait.

How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?

I guess I talk a lot of shit about Perry, but it's not like I'm such a shiny happy person either, you know? I'm a wreck too. I'm just ... still alive. A wreck in progress.

Heart beats fast Colors and promises How do be brave How can I love when I'm afraid To fall But watching you stand alone All of my doubt Suddenly goes away somehow One step closer I have died everyday waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a Thousand years I'll love you for a Thousand more Time stands still Beauty in all she is I will be brave I will not let anything Take away What's standing in front of me Every breath, Every hour has come to this One step closer I have died everyday Waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a Thousand years I'll love you for a Thousand more And all along I believed I would find you Time has brought Your heart to me I have loved you for a Thousand years I'll love you for a Thousand more One step closer One step closer I have died everyday Waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a Thousand years I'll love you for a Thousand more And all along I believed I would find you Time has brought Your heart to me I have loved you for a Thousand years I'll love you for a Thousand more

Just. Sometimes everything falls apart at once, you know" And I'm slowly putting it back together, but it's taking a freaking eternity.

It's not like I got caught masturbating, for chrissake; she doesn't know me, why the hell would she care if I'm superstitious? - Karen

Logan,” she whispered when I pressed even closer. “This is stupid.” Still, her hands came to my waist, gripping my shirt. “You’re probably right. But I’m going to kiss you anyway

Why people are able to “paw” things, but I’m not able to “hand” things remains a mystery to this day.

Don’t run away from me. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what it feels like when I’m fucking you.

The day we met, frozen I held my breath. Right from the start, I knew that I found the home for my heart beats fast. Colors and promises. How to be brave? How can I love, when i'm afraid to fall. But watching you stand alone,all of my doubts, suddenly goes away somehow. One step closer. I have died every day waiting for you, darlin' don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years, i'll love you for a thousand more ♛♥

I've been watching you and Roar. Wanting it to be me training with you." His shoulders came up. "I don't want to do it now." "Why?" Aria's voice was high and thin. He smiled, a flash of shyness, before he leaned close. "There are other things I'd rather do when I'm alone with you.

But addiction wakes up before you do, and it wants you alone. Alcoholism will win every time. As soon as you raise your hand and say, “I’m having a problem,” alcohol sneers, You’re gonna say something about it? Fine, I’ll go away for a while. But I’ll be back. It never goes away for good.

If we tried this and it didn’t work, you’d lose him.” “Yeah.” He nodded. “I know what’s on the line, Memphis. But I’m standing here anyway.

I’m as sure as I’ve ever been. This. Us. I want this. I want you.

You can lead a horse to water but only very rarely can you drown him and get away with it.

Here lies the girl whose only crutch Was loving one man just a little too much If you go before I do I'm gonna tell the gravedigger that he better dig two.

For years I thought I wasn’t enough, but I don’t feel that way anymore. I think I’m just the right amount.

You were suffocating in Quentis. You were fucking wasting away in that golden castle. I’m not trying to trap you here, Odessa. But I need you to live. I won’t…” He dragged a hand over his face. “I have never been more scared than when I saw you run for that boy.

I’ll be damned if I’m the only killer in the courtroom.

Now that they’re both in view, the problem is clear. Girl I’ve loved, girl I’m falling for. Let’s meet in my driveway and see if we can give Jameson his first heart attack.

But I'm not the kind of man who gives up what's good. And we are good. We are fucking good, honey.

I hate to go mincing through life, afraid to take a single long step for fear somebody is watching. I want to "wave my wild tail and walk by my wild lone." There wasn't a bit of real harm in my opening that window and talking to Perry. There wasn't even any harm in his trying to kiss me. He just did it to tease me. Oh, I hate conventions. As you say, hang consequences.' 'But we can't hang 'em, Pussy - that's just the trouble. They're more likely to hang us.

Martha says I never looked odder or uglier, but you know I’ve always thought beauty a curse and am more than happy to dispense with it completely. Sometimes I forget that I’m a woman—at least—I forget to THINK OF MYSELF AS A WOMAN. All the obligations and comforts of womanhood seem to have nothing to do with me now. I’m not sure how I am supposed to behave and I’m not sure I would, if I knew.

I’m not trying to take Jamie’s place or erase his memory or make you forget that you loved him. I’m just trying to explore this thing between us.

I’m the man falling in love with you, Maisy. I’m the man falling in love with your son.

All the obligations and comforts of womanhood seem to have nothing to do with me now. I’m not sure how I am supposed to behave and I’m not sure I would, if I knew.

I’m eager to start my new life with her by my side. She’s my best friend. My dream girl. My soulmate.

My mother is beautiful; she was a star in every room she entered. And she's certainly the reason I'm funny.

Oh good lord, I'm in a three-way with a cello.

Just let me go, Foster.” “I haven’t let you go in seven years. I’m not starting tonight.

I’m capable of staying sober unless anything happens.

Aunt Ruth looked at the unlucky pair. "What are you doing here?" she asked Perry. Stovepipe Town made a mistake. "Oh, looking for a round square," said Perry off-handedly, his eyes suddenly becoming limpid with mischief and lawless roguery.

I’m not much of a fighter and I rarely stand up for myself. But I’m standing up for you. I’ll fight for you.” Her hands slid up to my cheeks, pushing me back so she could look me in the eye. “I’m not letting you go. And I’ll never leave you behind.

Snake eyes again. Damn dice,” Straggler said. He lifted the cup to reveal two ones on the table. Hyde smirked. “Strag, I didn’t think it was possible to be as unlucky as you are.” “He’s so unlucky it’s almost lucky,” Gren said. “It’s like he has reverse luck.” “He’s reverse good-looking, too,” said Hyde. “I’m going to reverse punch you,” Strag said to his brother. “That was reverse smart, man. It means you’re going to punch yourself.

How are we going to handle this?” Her eyebrows came together. “Handle what?” “Us. There’s no way I’m not going to kiss you today. I’m wondering if you want me to hide it from her. Or if you’re okay with her knowing that her dad is crazy about her mom.

I ain't going to talk to you until I am blue in the face trying to make you change. I'm going to tell you what's on my mind and hope you get it and I'm going to move on. That's what we have to do sometimes--move on. Try to help others, extend your hand, and then help the next. If they don't want to accept it, keep moving on. Don't let them discourage you. Never stop doing what you're doing because of somebody else's unwillingness to learn.

You’ve built me up in your head into something great. I’m not.” Why couldn’t he see what I saw? He was a wonderful man with flaws. I wasn’t blind. He wasn’t perfect. But he was perfect for me.

Like I'm flying." I smile and tilt my face closer to hers. Close enough that I can feel her breath on my face. "like I'm flying through the night sky because I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, but I can't get enough of you.

You returned for me, Finn. After everything you said." Finnkin's eyes were fierce with emotion. "Do you honestly think I would have left you out here, knowing there was a small army in the vicinity?" "I'm surprised you were able to convince Perri and your father to return." Finnikin laughed. "All I had to do was stop the horse and say, 'I think...' and they were racing back into the woods to you.

Before me, have you ever been fucked by a real man?” “What are you talking about?” “A real man. Have you ever fucked one?” “I’m confused.” “Then the answer is no, you haven’t. By the end of this week, I’m going to be inside you enough so you can start to tell the difference.” I blinked up at him, completely baffled. “What?” “A real man doesn’t fuck you for your money. He fucks you because you’re gorgeous. Because you come like a rocket. Because you have eyes that show him everything you’re feeling. He fucks you because nothing has ever felt better.” “Oh.” “Yeah, oh.

when I can get someone, I have to leave them before they leave me, because I’m not enough and I’m about to be found out, but when someone I want doesn’t choose me, that just proves I’m not enough and I’ve been found out. Heads they win, tails I lose.

I’m going to kill him for this,” she said. “No. Stay away from him, Aria. Find a way to get us out of here. Use Hess. If he likes to run from problems, let’s give him somewhere to go. Another option. But promise me you’ll stay away from Sable.” “Perry, no.” “Aria, yes.” Didn’t she understand? He could endure anything—except losing her.

But grateful. For you.” He shifted in his seat like the praise made him uncomfortable. “I’m going to ask you questions now,” I said. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t come armed with questions. Honestly, I’m starting to feel like the weapons are unnecessary.” This. This was what I needed to chase away some of the fog. Bickering with Ransom.

You made friends with a prickler?" Hawk says, standing just inside the secret opening, apparently having come inside during my story, "I'm confused," Adele says. "At first I thought pricklers were some kind of plant, but are they an animal? Or some weird kind of person?" "We ate your friend" Tristan says, his handsome face screwed up even more.

Heart beats fast Colors and promises How do be brave How can I love when I'm afraid To fall But watching you stand alone All of my doubt Suddenly goes away somehow One step closer I have died everyday waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a Thousand years I'll love you for a Thousand more Time stands still Beauty in all she is I will be brave I will not let anything Take away What's standing in front of me Every breath, Every hour has come to this One step closer I have died everyday Waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a Thousand years I'll. love you for a Thousand more

I don't want to die. I'm scared to die.

I’m just saying, you think he’s cute. From the look in his eye, he thinks you’re cute too. You two should spend some time being cute together.

FAKE IT TIL YOU BECOME IT!

What are you doing here?” … Our noses were practically touching. No one in the room would mistake my intention, Londyn included. “I’m here for you, honey.

I’m listening. I listen with my ears and look with my eyes. I can’t do two things at once and really concentrate on them. Right now, I’m listening to your voice.

What does success mean to you?' Those are moments when I feel like I’m contributing something but I’m also receiving something. Reciprocity feels like success. (Melissa Harris-Perry)

I hate this,” she whispered. “So do I.” “I feel like every time I go to the mailbox, I’m going to get blasted back into the past. I already cried these tears. I don’t want to do it again.

You can track the trajectory of my addiction if you gauge my weight from season to season—when I’m carrying weight, it’s alcohol; when I’m skinny, it’s pills. When I have a goatee, it’s lots of pills.

I wonder if Perry snores. I'm not going to ask; first dates can be so awkward. Fuck it. "Hey, do you snore? I hate to ask, because I know how awkward it is to bring up on the first date." Perry spit-laughs a gob of drool. "You're unbelievable." "So, yes?" "No, I do not snore." "You look like a snorer.

There’s a country song about this. Deana Carter sings about it. Lady Antebellum sings about it. Gosh, not just country artists. Katy Perry. Everybody has a song about it because everybody’s been through it. You find that person at eighteen and you lose yourself. And the tragedy is, it’s the person who’s completely opposed to everything you’ve ever wanted. You bond with that person, and that person breaks your heart. I’m that tragedy, and you’re mine.

Perry says that he feels like going to Priest Pond and knocking the daylights out of Great-Aunt Nancy. I told him he must not talk like that about my family, and anyhow I don't see how knocking the daylights out of Great-Aunt Nancy would make her change her opinion about me...(I wonder what daylights are and how you knock them out of people.)

Then here’s another truth. I’m going to take them. I’m going to take all of your bests. Every damn one until you can’t keep track of the top five anymore because there are so many bests that you’ll need a hundred to capture them all.

I glared at the man. "You know, Dr. Russell, most doctors would have found a more tactful way to break the news." "I'm sorry, Mr. Perry," Dr. Russell said. "I don't want to seem unconcerned. But it's really not a problem. Even on Earth, testicular cancer is easily treatable, particularly in the early stages, which is the case here. At the very worst, you'd lose the testicle, but that's not a significant setback." "Unless you happen to own the testicle," I growled.

I’m going to argue in this book that Western sexual culture in the twenty-first century doesn’t properly balance these interests – instead, it promotes the interests of the Hugh Hefners of the world at the expense of the Marilyn Monroes.

Scarlett, tell me to stop.” “No.” “I’m doing my best to stay in control here.” I jerked my hand to my side, closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. “Scarlett—” She leaned in close. The whisper of her breath skated across my chest. “Lose control, Luke.

I'm always trying to figure out what's really going on. Always having to fill in the gaps, but never getting all the details. It's like trying to do a jigsaw when I don't even know what the picture is, and I'm missing one of the vital middle pieces.

Now I was the only one left. I thought about what I was going to say: Oh, hi there, I'm Thom. I just want to say what an honor it is to be a part of this prestigious team. A leader that wants to kick my ass, some bitchy girl with a major attitude problem, a geriatric precog, a guy who should probably be quarantined at the Center for Disease Control, and me, just your average, ordinary, gay teen superhero. Surely we're what the founding members had in mind when they banded together to form the world's premier superhero group. What's not to be excited about? "I'm Thom." I scratched a dry patch above my elbow. "I can heal things. Sometimes.

You’ll always be my Emmy.” “I’m not your anything, Nick.” “You’re my wife.” “A paper certificate does not make me your wife,” I said. His frame deflated and his eyes filled with regret. “Forgive me. Give us a chance. We have something here and you know I’m right.

Then here’s another truth. I’m going to take them. I’m going to take all of your bests. Every damn one until you can’t keep track of the top five anymore because there are so many bests that you’ll need a hundred to capture them all.” “Promise?” I whispered. “I swear it.

It's not odd these days to hear politicians trumpeting their own authenticity, a claim that an earlier day would have considered self-cancelling. But when Michelle Bachman, Rick Perry, and Rick Santorum say "I'm authentic," they're not evoking the shade of Neal Cassady. (102)

It’s hard to talk about guns without sounding defensive or blustery. I’m pro-gun the same way I’m pro-potato fork. I use them both to gather food for the year, with the caveat that if you break into my house, I won’t be waiting for yo at the top of the stairs with a potato fork.

I step in to give him a hug, but his hand comes in between us. His hand. Because he doesn't want to do any more than shake. With the girl he's made love to. Whose heart is bursting out of her chest. I'm trembling in a way that makes me feel like I might fall apart any second. His hand touches mine, and I love the warmth of him. Love the way he feels. My eyes don't live his. He has only some idea that he could be a model for Calvin Klein. This is so weird. I'm supposed to be angry. Hurt. Instead I'm in shock that he still makes me feel this way - like we were something special.

I want to hate him for what he did. Leaving us. It's not right. He's gone and I'm stuck here in this fucking funeral home, staring at his casket. There's no way out. Not for me, and certainly not for him. The casket is closed. Bolted shut for eternity. No one forced him to be a Jackass wannabe, though.

I hope I’m being clear, I didn’t say I hate feminists, that would be weird. I said I hate feminist. I’m talking about the word. I have the privilege living my life inside of words and part of being a writer is creating entire universes, and that's beautiful, but part of being a writer is also living in the very smallest part of every word. ...But the word feminist, it doesn't sit with me, it doesn't add up. I want to talk about my problem that I have with it. ...Ist in it's meaning is also a problem for me. Because you can't be born an ist. It's not natural... So feminist includes the idea that believing men and women to be equal, believing all people to be people, is not a natural state. That we don't emerge assuming that everybody in the human race is a human, that the idea of equality is just an idea that's imposed on us. That we are indoctrinated with it, that it's an agenda... ...My problem with feminist is not the word. It's the question. "Are you now, or have you ever been, a feminist?" The great Katy Perry once said—I'm paraphrasing—"I'm not a feminist but I like it when women are strong."...Don't know why she feels the need to say the first part, but listening to the word and thinking about it, I realize I do understand. This question that lies before us is one that should lie behind us. The word is problematic for me because there's another word that we're missing... ...When you say racist, you are saying that is a negative thing. That is a line that we have crossed. Anything on the side of that line is shameful, is on the wrong side of history. And that is a line that we have crossed in terms of gender but we don't have the word for it... ...I start thinking about the fact that we have this word when we're thinking about race that says we have evolved beyond something and we don't really have this word for gender. Now you could argue sexism, but I'd say that's a little specific. People feel removed from sexism. ‘I'm not a sexist, but I'm not a feminist.' They think there's this fuzzy middle ground. There's no fuzzy middle ground. You either believe that women are people or you don't. It's that simple. ...You don’t have to hate someone to destroy them. You just have to not get it. ...My pitch is this word. ‘Genderist.’ I would like this word to become the new racist. I would like a word that says there was a shameful past before we realized that all people were created equal. And we are past that. And every evolved human being who is intelligent and educated and compassionate and to say I don't believe that is unacceptable. And Katy Perry won't say, "I'm not a feminist but I like strong women," she'll say, "I'm not a genderist but sometimes I like to dress up pretty." And that'll be fine. ...This is how we understand society. The word racism didn't end racism, it contextualized it in a way that we still haven't done with this issue. ...I say with gratitude but enormous sadness, we will never not be fighting. And I say to everybody on the other side of that line who believe that women are to be bought and trafficked or ignored...we will never not be fighting. We will go on, we will always work this issue until it doesn't need to be worked anymore. ...Is this idea of genderist going to do something? I don't know. I don't think that I can change the world. I just want to punch it up a little.

My parents stopped by. We need to go to the ranch for dinner tomorrow.” I braced, just like I had at the hotel. Shoulders pinned. Breath held. That muscle – the angry muscle – feathered Jasper’s jaw. “I’m not one for family functions.” “And I’m not one for anal play but I still let you shove your finger up my ass last night.

Obama was the fourth president I had worked for who said outright that he wanted to eliminate all nuclear weapons (Carter, Reagan, and Bush 41 were the others). Former secretaries of state Henry Kissinger and George Shultz, former defense secretary Bill Perry, and former senator Sam Nunn had also called for “going to zero.” The only problem, in my view, was that I hadn’t heard the leaders of any other nuclear country—Britain, France, Russia, China, India, or Pakistan—signal the same intent.

Know what I think?" said Perry. "I think there must be something wrong with us. To do what we did."' "Did what?" "Out there." Dick dropped the binoculars into a leather case, a luxurious receptacle initialed H. W. C. He was annoyed. Annoyed as hell. Why the hell couldn't Perry shut up? Christ Jesus, what damn good did it do, always dragging the goddam thing up? It really was annoying. Especially since they'd agreed, sort of, not to talk about the goddam thing. Just forget it. "There's got to be something wrong with somebody who'd do a thing like that," Perry said. "Deal me out, baby," Dick said. "I'm a normal." And Dick meant what he said. He thought himself as balanced, as sane as anyone - maybe a bit smarter than the average fellow, that's all. But Perry - there was, in Dick's opinion, "something wrong" with Little Perry.

The trouble began right after Perry proposed. Although we were happy at first, it didn't take long before we discovered that we didn't suit. Perry said I wasn't the same woman he'd known all his life. He said I had changed- and he was right. We'd never argued before, but suddenly it seemed we couldn't agree on anything. I made him very unhappy, I'm afraid." "So you gave him plenty of lip," Derek commented, looking pleased. His good humor restored, he reached over to pat her familiarly on the thigh. "That's fine. I like my women saucy.

In my view, having a child is a way of saying, ‘Life is basically good; it’s good enough that I’m willing to inflict it upon someone else.

Either way, I’m ready. And I seek the answer every day. I am a seeker. I seek God.

I look out at the water, and I say, very quietly, “Maybe I’m not so bad after all.” And then I head back in for more coffee.

He has survived impossible odds, but I had no idea how many times he almost didn’t make it. I’m glad you’re here, Matty. Good for you. I love you.

I’m the man falling in love with you, Maisy. I’m the man falling in love with your son.

I’m going to start by telling you a story, because anything that was ever worth knowing began with ‘once upon a time.’ ” “As

All that is solid melts into air,” she said, testing his courage. “Shakespeare?” he said. Smiling, relenting, Martha said, “Karl Marx, I’m afraid, though he was a bard of sorts.

I lean closer and whisper. "I'm already there, so I guess I'll wait for you

I may be going to hell in a bucket Babe, at least I'm enjoying the ride.

But I’m happy every day too. I still have a lot of people in my life. Family. Friends. You. The trick is learning to let the happy outweigh the sad.

I’m so sorry, my dear,” she said quietly. “It’s a shock, even though he was old. Pieces of our lives being chipped away reminds us of our own fragility, and how precious life is.

I'm not the biggest fan of confrontation. I ask a lot of questions. Just not out loud.

I know what’s on the line, Memphis. But I’m standing here anyway.

There’s a comfort for me, knowing it’s all my decision. I’m not obligated to live my life according to anyone else’s plan.

You set me free once, Graham. You let me fly. Now I’m coming home.

So, I'm in Dallas--- I am on methadone, a quart of vodka a day, cocaine, and Xanax.

I’m so glad He has been teaching me to define His goodness based on who He is, not on my own limited understanding of Him.

If you don't display a little more grace, I'm going to smear butter all over your face!

For a guy who’s been shot down more than once, I’m pretty gun-shy. But for you, I would have tried a million times. I’ve got a hell of a crush on you, Sara Foster.

SOME OF THE WEALTHIEST PEOPLE ARE THE BROKEST PEOPLE ON EARTH!

I've felt nothing, done nothing, seen nothing - I'm a long pause, am empty bar: I make no noise at all...

I’m reminded of the Māori elders and their belief that trauma, anxiety, depression, and substance abuse are “all the same thing”—and all related to our connectedness, our sense of belonging.

The rock under my feet turned out to be sand after all, and in the end the tide came in. Walker says I'm free, like a dog off it's leash. Which is all very well, but what if I run into the road?

In fact, I’d go further, and suggest that almost no one is a walking gender stereotype – I have some stereotypically feminine traits and some stereotypically masculine ones, and I’m sure you do too.

It’s fine being terribly cynical and ironic when I’m out in the evening and I’m with my mates, but when I want to look at art, I want to have a sincere on-to-one experience with it because I’m a serious artist. I’ve dedicated my life to it. So I go to exhibitions in the morning on my own when I can go, “Hmm,’ and maybe have a little bit of a moment. I have to protect my tender parts from that wicked irony.

What do we do?” “We?” “Yes.” I was part of this now. This country. I glanced at Evie. This family. Whether they wanted me or not. “We kill the monsters. We kill them all. Every last one.” Him. He meant to kill the monsters. Then himself. He smirked, his arrogant mask falling into place. “Just think of how happy your father will be when I’m dead. You can even tell him you killed me, just like he asked. My queen the assassin.

I’m done waiting for you to see me. Something shifted beneath my feet like moving sand. Things in my chest, around my brain, rearranged. It was like a deck of cards being shuffled. There was before. This was after.

I'm going to take them. I'm going to take all your bests. Every damn one until you cant keep track of the top five anymore because there are so many bests that you'll need a hundred to capture them all. Promise. I swear it

You think I’m hot?” She slid her sunglasses into her hair, her expression turning serious. “Isaiah, you’re the sexiest, most handsome man I’ve seen in my life. And your heart? When you let me in, you literally steal my breath away.

At some point, sisters began to talk about how unseen they have felt. How the media has focused on men, but it has been them - the sisters - who were there. They were there, in overwhelming numbers, just as they were during the civil rights movement. Women - all women, trans women - are roughly 80% of the people who were staring down the terror of Ferguson, saying “we are the caretakers of this community”. Is it women who are out there, often with their children, calling for an end to police violence, saying “we have a right to raise our children without fear”. But it is not women’s courage that is showcased in the media. One sister says “when the police move in we do not run, we stay. And for this, we deserve recognition”. Their words will live with us, will live in us, as Ferguson begins to unfold and as the national attention begins to really focus on what Alicia, Opal and I have started. The first time there’s coverage of Black Lives Matter in a way that is positive is on the Melissa Harris-Perry show. She does not invite us - it isn’t intentional, I’m certain of that. And about a year later she does, but in this early moment, and despite the overwhelming knowledge of the people on the ground who are talking about what Alicia, Opal and I have done, and despite of it being part of the historical record, that it is always women who do the work even as men get the praise. It takes a long time for us to occur to most reporters and the mainstream. Living in patriarchy means that the default inclination is to center men and their voices, not women and their work. The fact seems ever more exacerbated in our day and age, when presence on twitter, when the number of followers one has, can supplant the everyday and heralded work of those who, by virtue of that work, may not have time to tweet constantly or sharpen and hone their personal brand so that it is an easily sellable commodity. Like the women who organized, strategized, marched, cooked, typed up and did the work to ensure the civil rights movement; women whose names go unspoken, unknown, so too that this dynamic unfolds as the nation began to realize that we were a movement. Opal, Alicia and I never wanted or needed to be the center of anything. We were purposeful about decentralizing our role in the work, but neither did we want, nor deserved, to be erased.

Perry said, “Am I sorry? If that’s what you mean—I’m not. I don’t feel anything about it. I wish I did. But nothing about it bothers me a bit. Half an hour after it happened, Dick was making jokes and I was laughing at them. Maybe we’re not human. I’m human enough to feel sorry for myself. Sorry I can’t walk out of here when you walk out. But that’s all.” Cullivan could scarcely credit so detached an attitude; Perry was confused, mistaken, it was not possible for any man to be that devoid of conscience or compassion. Perry said, “Why? Soldiers don’t lose much sleep. They murder, and get medals for doing it. The good people of Kansas want to murder me—and some hangman will be glad to get the work. It’s easy to kill—a lot easier than passing a bad check. Just remember: I only knew the Clutters maybe an hour. If I’d really known them, I guess I’d feel different. I don’t think I could live with myself. But the way it was, it was like picking off targets in a shooting gallery.

But, you see, I can’t say yes to that question “Why?” when I feel like I’m not enough. You can’t give away something you do not have. And most of the time I have these nagging thoughts: I’m not enough, I don’t matter, I am too needy. These thoughts make me uncomfortable. I need love, but I don’t trust it. If I drop my game, my Chandler, and show you who I really am, you might notice me, but worse, you might notice me and leave me. And I can’t have that. I won’t survive that. Not anymore. It will turn me into a speck of dust and annihilate me. So, I will leave you first. I will fabricate in my mind that something went wrong with you, and I’ll believe it. And I’ll leave. But something can’t go wrong with all of them, Matso. What’s the common denominator here?

The idea of being famous, the idea of being rich, the idea of being me—I can’t enjoy any of it unless I’m high. And I can’t think of love without wanting to be high. I lack a spiritual connection that protects me from these feelings. That’s why I’m a seeker.

She’d prized Will’s affection because it was impossible that he might want her as Michael once had; his affection was bounded off on all sides by Stella, and his faith, and by what she’d gratefully thought was his complete failure to notice she was a woman. ‘I might as well be a head in a jar of formaldehyde, for all he cares,’ she’d once said to Martha: ‘It’s why he prefers to write to me than see me – I’m only a mind, not a body: I’m safe as a child – don’t you see how I might prefer it?’ And she believed it, too.

In the final episode, you’ll see that I’m wearing a white shirt, and tan slacks, and both look at least three sizes too big for me. (Compare this to the difference in how I look between the final episode of season six and the first of season seven—the Chandler-Monica proposal episodes. I’m wearing the same clothes in the final episode of six and the first of seven [it’s supposed to be the same night], but I must have lost fifty pounds in the off-season. My weight varied between 128 pounds and 225 pounds during the years of Friends.)

The creators took each of us out for lunch, too, to get to know us, so they could incorporate some aspects of our real personalities into the show. At my lunch I said two things: one, that even though I considered myself not unattractive, I had terrible luck with women and that my relationships tended toward the disastrous; and two, that I was not comfortable in any silence at all—I have to break any such moment with a joke. And this became a built-in excuse for Chandler Bing to be funny—perfect for a sitcom—and Chandler wasn’t much good with women, either (as he shouts at Janice as she leaves his apartment, “I’ve scared ya; I’ve said too much; I’m awkward and hopeless and desperate for love!”). But think of a better character for a sitcom: someone who is uncomfortable in silence and has to break the silence with a joke.

He strode toward me, taking my face in his hands. “Then here’s another truth. I’m going to take them. I’m going to take all of your bests. Every damn one until you can’t keep track of the top five anymore because there are so many bests that you’ll need a hundred to capture them all.

Perry continued, his voice even but firm as granite; "Do you prefer the easy platitudes? You said you didn't. How dare you speak about God like He's some frivolous clown? Do you think you're the only one who has suffered in this world? Every apostle but one died a martyr’s death. By the time of Nero the streets of Rome were lined with Christians hanging on crosses. Emperors would wrap them in wax and light them on fire, using their burning bodies as torches. Even Gods own Son was nailed to a cross. What makes you think you should be spared pain and difficulty? Anne started to speak but nothing came out so Perry continued. "I'm grieved at your loss but I won't waste time joining you in your pity party. Everyone faces hardship, disappointment and, sooner or later, tragedy. It's called Life. If you want to talk about how unfair God is you'll need to find a different audience, because I'm not going to listen to it" Perry watched Anne's jaw tighten and her eyes narrow as if to hold back the hurricane of fury swirling within her. "You owe me an apology", she said through tight lips. "You owe God an apology", Perry countered in the same still voice. A TREASURE DEEP

I really think you should go home,” Mom said. “Get some rest.” My fingers gingerly touched the bandage on my forehead. “I’m resting here.” “Me too,” Perry said from the chair beside me. He had a matching bandage on his head. We looked like two idiots who’d decided to have a head-butting competition.

Out of nowhere, I found myself getting to my knees, closing my eyes tightly, and praying. I had never done this before. “God, you can do whatever you want to me. Just please make me famous.” Three weeks later, I got cast in Friends. And God has certainly kept his side of the bargain—but the Almighty, being the Almighty, had not forgotten the first part of that prayer as well. Now, all these years later, I’m certain that I got famous so I would not waste my entire life trying to get famous. You have to get famous to know that it’s not the answer. And nobody who is not famous will ever truly believe that.

You hate me for her,” I whispered, sensing Dash behind me. “Yes.” “Fair enough.” I was the living, breathing reminder of our father’s adultery. I turned away from the photo. “I’m not my mother, but I loved her. I don’t agree with what she did, but she was my mom. Maybe one day you’ll see that I’m a victim here too.

You married a stranger. In secret. And you hid it from us. I’m going to fucking yell.” “Griff—” A strong arm wrapped around my shoulders, stopping another lame apology. Jasper hauled me backward, flush against his chest. “That’s enough.” Griffin’s gaze leveled on Jasper. “This is a private conversation.” “You’re yelling at my wife.

Who are you?” A wave of guilt clouded his handsome features. “Just a guy trying to deserve you.” “Stop.” A sob escaped. “I’m hormonal and exhausted and hungry. Unless you want me to cry through breakfast, I need you to stop being that guy for a minute. Be the other Leo.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Your tits are fucking huge.” I laughed. “Thank you.” “Welcome.

And I’m sorry,” he went on, licking his lips, still gazing at me seductively, “if I didn’t tell you about me and Rebecca. I wasn’t trying to hurt you—I wasn’t trying to do anything. All I think about is you, Perry. From the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep, and even in my dreams. I don’t think about my past anymore. I only think about my future. And you’re my fucking future.

you see her just kind of nod out, smile, and die. But that smile is the feeling that I want all the time. She must have felt so good, but it killed her. But that beatific moment is something I still seek, only without the death part. I want a connection. I want that connection to something bigger than me because I’m convinced it’s the only thing that will truly save my life. I don’t want to die. I’m scared to die.

Well then, he said. What are you doing here? I am not sure. Liberty I suppose. I lived so long under constraints. You wonder why I grub about in the mud - it's what I remember from childhood. Barely ever wearing shoes - picking gorse for cordial, watching the ponds boiling with frogs. And then there was Michael, and he was - civilised. He would pave over every bit of woodland, have every sparrow mounted on a plinth. And he had me mounted on a plinth. My waist pinched, my hair burned into curls, the colour on my face painted out, then painted in again. And now I'm free to sink back into the earth if I like - to let myself grow over with moss and lichen. Perhaps you're appalled to think we are no higher than the animals, or at least, if we are, only one rung further up the ladder. But no, no - it has given me liberty. No other animal abides by rules - why then must we?

I've been able to get most people I've wanted, but this one still hurts. Which just shows that the exception proves the rule: when I can get someone, I have to leave them before they leave me, because I'm not enough and I'm about to be found out, but when someone I want doesn't choose me, that just proves I'm not enough and I've been found out. Heads they win, tails I lose. Either way, to this day if someone mentions her name, my stomach clenches.

My weight varied between 128 pounds and 225 pounds during the years of Friends.) You can track the trajectory of my addiction if you gauge my weight from season to season—when I’m carrying weight, it’s alcohol; when I’m skinny, it’s pills. When I have a goatee, it’s lots of pills. By the end of season three, I was spending most of my time figuring out how to get fifty-five Vicodin a day—I had to have fifty-five every day, otherwise I’d get so sick.

I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am. It doesn't mean I won't try, because you, Perry, you deserve a lifetime of servitude. Eons of groveling. Even then, I dont' think I can show enough, do enough to let you see. And that's OK. You have every right to hate me for this lifetime and many others. You have every right to never see me again. To spit on my grave. But tonight, now I"m not going to give up on you. I'm going to fix you, or die trying".

Ted Rittenhouse saw the relief that flooded the woman's face. She'd obviously come up with a solution she thought would satisfy him. "I'm staying with a cousin, Gabe Flanagan." She was so relieved that the words tripped over each other. She snatched a cell phone from her bag. "Look, you can call him. He'll vouch for me. Here's my cellphone. You can use it." "Seems to me I've heard of those newfangled gadgets," he said dryly, pulling his own cell phone from his uniform pocket.

Perry was leaning into my mother as he listened to what she said. They talked so close. He only leaned closer, his hands on the table, his leg touching hers. "It's so risky," my mother said. "Why are you doing this?" "Because I'm human being. Because we're all human beings." My mother closed her eyes and winced. Maybe her hearing aid was ringing and bothering her, but as I watched her turn down the volume, I wanted to tell her right then that she couldn't quiet all those outside voices forever.

No more running away. I told you I’m not letting you go, so you need to get used to having me in your life. Every day. No more space.” “I am not ready…” “Get ready,” I said. “I thought about you every day for nine years, wondered what you were doing. I had questions I wanted to ask but couldn’t. Those nine years are on me. It was my mistake to walk away from you but I’m not doing it again. And I won’t let you do it either. All I’m asking for is time. I’ll prove to you that you can trust me again.

She’d prized Will’s affection because it was impossible that he might want her as Michael once had; his affection was bounded off on all sides by Stella, and his faith, and by what she’d gratefully thought was his complete failure to notice she was a woman. ‘I might as well be a head in a jar of formaldehyde, for all he cares,’ she’d once said to Martha: ‘It’s why he prefers to write to me than see me – I’m only a mind, not a body: I’m safe as a child – don’t you see how I might prefer it?’ And she believed it, too.

open your eyes to why God’s put you here, stop all that staring at the floor, you and Perry both you’re crazy—I’ll draw you magic moon circles’ll change all your luck”—I look her dead in the eye and it is blue and I say “O Billie, forgive me”—“But you see you go there talkin guilty again”—“Well I dont know all those big theories about how everything should be goddamit all I know is that I’m a helpless hunk of helpful horse manure looking in your eye saying Help me”—“But when you make those big final statements it doesnt help you

Drop your shield, love. Put your hands down. All the way.” “I’m scared.” “Voice your fears. Let’s put them out there. Face them, together.” It took her a moment to meet my gaze. “Will you break my heart again?” “Never.” I’d die first. “Will you leave me?” “Never.” Not willingly. Not until the end. “Will you stop loving me?” “Never.” My love for her had no end. I’d love her in this world and the next. “Never, Tally. Never.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I love you. Only you. Always you.” Victory This fight was over. “I love you, Talia Eden

But, you see, I can’t say yes to that question “Why?” when I feel like I’m not enough. You can’t give away something you do not have. And most of the time I have these nagging thoughts: I’m not enough, I don’t matter, I am too needy. These thoughts make me uncomfortable. I need love, but I don’t trust it. If I drop my game, my Chandler, and show you who I really am, you might notice me, but worse, you might notice me and leave me. And I can’t have that. I won’t survive that. Not anymore. It will turn me into a speck of dust and annihilate me.

Viveros smiled. “If Bender were really interested in peace instead of his own ego, he’d have done what I’m doing, and what you should do, Perry,” she said. “Follow orders. Stay alive. Make it through our term of infantry service. Join officer training and work our way up. Become the people who are giving the orders, not just following them. That’s how we’ll make peace when we can. And that’s how I can live with ‘just following orders.’ Because I know that one day, I’ll make those orders change.” She leaned back, closed her eyes and slept the rest of the way back to our ship. Luisa

You can take a feeling seriously without overreacting and remain contained and optimistic. You might say, “Oh dear, you are unhappy. Would you like a cuddle? Come to me, then. There we are, I’m going to hold you until you feel better.” If a child knows they will be seen and soothed but not judged by you, they are more likely to tell you what is going on for them. This is what a child needs: for a parent to be a container for their emotions. This means you are alongside them and know and accept what they feel but you are not being overwhelmed by their feelings. This is one of the things psychotherapists do for their clients.

Is that what you think? That I cook for you because you can’t cook for yourself?” “Well . . . yes.” He scoffed, turning his head to the ceiling. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he muttered something. Then he faced me again, taking a long step forward to crowd my space. “I cook for you because it’s how I show someone I care. I cook for you because I love the look on your face after that first bite. I cook for you because I’d rather cook for you than anyone else.” “What?” My jaw dropped. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with you, woman.” My mouth was still open. Which suited Knox just fine. Because he raised his hands, framed my face. Then sealed his lips over mine.

A Party for New Year (for Lily and Maisie, the ladies what lunch.) Dear Lily, I have bought something frilly, to wear on New Year’s Eve. You may think it sounds rather silly, and, what I tell you, you will never believe. I met a woman in Primark, I know, not my normal shop. Just heard so much about it inside I had to pop. Well, the top I purchased, sparkles. The frills upon it abound. This woman I met in the changing room. On me, she said it looked sound. It's very, very silver you know. A little bit like Lametta. Oh Lily, I feel quite aglow. On no one could it look any better. Dear Maisie, Things are looking a bit hazy. A silver top, for New Year. Are you really, really that crazy? My word, you batty old dear. I'm wearing my old faithful. The black dress, with the gold trim. It's not like we’re doing anything special. In fact proceedings sound quite grim. Sitting on your old sofa With a Baileys, if I'm lucky. Watching the same old things on the box. I'm not excited Ducky. I want to be in the city and feel the atmosphere. It really is a pity that you want to stay right here. Dear Lily. Now you are being silly. What about your knees? Standing about, feeling chilly, and moaning you're going to freeze. Much better to stay indoors and watch a music show. We'll get the bongs at midnight. This you very well know. I don't have any Baileys. You drank it Christmas Day. But I found some cooking sherry. I want that out of the way. I even have some nibbles, so come on, what do you say? We'll have us a little party. Bring your nightie and then you can stay. Dear Maisie, Do you remember Daisy? Her with the wart on her ear. She thinks she'd like to join us to celebrate New Year. Do we really want her with us? She's quite a moaning Minnie. She always makes such a fuss. I'd hoped she'd celebrate with Winnie. I think I will come over Lil'. I'll even bring the wine. We really should start taking turns. Next year, you can come to mine. We'll have a great time, you and me. Go out in the cold? No fear. We'll be fine indoors, just you see. Friends together, celebrating New Year.

The Forgiveness Castle remains open all day and all night, and the best thing is that there are so many entrances, usually found where you'd never thing to look: behind potted plants, in crayon drawings, and on old birthday cards. I have it on good authority that one entrance is through a tree fort. Many of the Forgiveness Castle's entry points remain secret, which is why you hunt around, press the blue walls gently, and wait. Sometimes saying the most obvious words, 'I'm sorry', opens a hidden door right where there seemed not possibility." He looks away. "You're welcome to visit this castle to wait for a friend, to sit in one of its orange and yellow gardens, or to find your own reflection in the polished blue rock and whisper, 'Please.Come home.

Ooh, I'm very hungry,' said Gerty Green dragon to her sister, Greta. 'Ooh, me too,' said Greta Green dragon to her sister, Gerty. 'Let's have our picnic. What did you bring for us to eat? Ooh, I hope there's Lime jelly.' Greta was very excited, and she began to look around for a suitable picnic spot. 'I didn't bring the picnic,' said a very dismayed Gerty Green dragon. 'I thought you were bringing it, Greta.' Greta Green dragon was distraught. 'But I thought you did Gerty.' A big, fat tear rolled down Greta Green dragon's cheek. A big, fat tear rolled down Gerty Green dragon's cheek. 'Waaaaagghhh.' They both cried in unison. 'Now what shall we do?' The twin green dragons sat on the grass verge at the side of the dusty lane and cried. They cried, and cried, and cried.

I was always bad at reading scripts. Back then, I’d be offered millions of dollars to do movies and barely crack the first few pages. I’m embarrassed to admit that now, given that these days I’m writing scripts myself and it’s like pulling teeth to get actors to respond. Maybe they feel how I used to feel: that in a life of fun and fame and money, reading a script, no matter the size of the number attached, feels all too much like school. The universe will teach you, though. All those years I was too this, too that, to read a script, but last year I wrote a screenplay for myself and was trying get it made until I realized that I was too old to play the part. Most fifty-three-year-olds have worked their shit out already, so I needed to hire a thirty-year-old. The one I chose took weeks and weeks to respond, and I couldn’t believe how rude his behavior was.

This story begins when Tay’s daughter Emily, who was nearly seven, shouted to her that she was stuck on a jungle gym, that she needed help to get off. I told her to get down and, when she said she couldn’t, I suddenly felt furious. I thought she was being ridiculous—she could easily get down herself. I shouted, “Get down this minute!” She eventually did. Then she tried to hold my hand, but I was still furious, and I said no, and then she howled. Once we got home and made tea together she calmed down and I wrote off the whole thing to myself as “God, kids can be a pain.” Fast-forward a week: we’re at the zoo and there’s another jungle gym. Looking at it, I felt a flash of guilt. It obviously reminded Emily of the previous week too, because she looked up at me almost fearfully. I asked her if she wanted to play on it. This time, instead of sitting on a bench looking at my phone, I stood by the jungle gym and watched her. When she felt she’d got stuck, she held out her arms to me for help. But this time I was more encouraging. I said, “Put one foot there and the other there and grab that and you’ll be able to do it by yourself.” And she did. When she had got down, she said, “Why didn’t you help me last time?” I thought about it, and I said, “When I was little, Nana treated me like a princess and carried me everywhere, told me to ‘be careful’ all the time. It made me feel incapable of doing anything for myself and I ended up with no confidence. I don’t want that to happen to you, which is why I didn’t want to help when you asked to be lifted off the jungle gym last week. And it reminded me of being your age, when I wasn’t allowed to get down by myself. I was overcome with anger and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.” Emily looked up at me and said, “Oh, I just thought you didn’t care.” “Oh no,” I said. “I care, but at that moment I didn’t know that I was angry at Nana and not at you. And I’m sorry.

I’m not helping you kill anybody else. It’s just not happening. I’m done.”“What makes you think you have a choice?”“You know why? I’ll tell you. Because we were just kissing in the street, and deep down, I don’t believe you could actually blow up my house or kill my sister. I just don’t, and she’s probably not even in the house anymore anyway, so if you want to go in there and shoot somebody, fine, but you’re on your own.”Gobi paused, seeming to consider all of this. “What is it that you want to hear from me, Perry? Do you want me to tell you that these are bad people that I am killing tonight? Because they are. They are very bad people. They deserve to die, each and every one of them.”“Nobody deserves to die.”“Oh, really?”“Okay, I mean, maybe people like Hitler and Pol Pot . . . dictators, tyrants, African warlords who starve their people into submission . . . but that guy at the bar wasn’t an evil man.”“How do you know? Because he had drinks with Hemingway?”“I just know.

Dear Lily Don't think me silly, but I forget what time you said. Are we meeting at two thirty? It's gone right from my head. Did you say Monday or Thursday? I have quite forgotten what day. Was it late lunch, or afternoon tea? Tell me, what did you say? I think I would like to do Tuesday. Let's go for a lovely lunch. Or, if you prefer we could even go early, and settle for brunch. A lovely Bistro or Cafe Bar, or maybe a country pub. I don't really mind that much, as long as we get some grub. Dear Maisie, Are you going crazy? We didn't set a date. You needed to check your diary. I think you are losing it, mate. But since you are free on Tuesday, and that day suits me fine. Could we meet, about twelve…ish? Its early I like to dine. You mentioned the pub, or Bistro, or some fancy Cafe Bar. Not sure I like the sound of that, and I'm not coming in the car. If the weather is bright and sunny, we could always dine al fresco. Failing that, we could just go get a cake and a cuppa in Tesco.

...he [Perry Hildebrandt] broached the subject of goodness and its relation to intelligence. He'd come to the reception for selfless reasons, but he now saw that he might get not only a free buzz but free advise from, as it were, two professionals. 'I suppose what I'm asking,' he said, 'is whether goodness can ever truly be its own reward, or whether, consciously or not, it always serves some personal instrumentality.' Reverend Walsh [Trinity Lutheran] and the rabbi [Meyer] exchanged glances in which Perry detected pleasant surprise. It gratified him to upset their expectations of a fifteen-year-old. 'Adam may have a different answer,' the rabbi said, but in the Jewish faith there is really only one measure of righteousness: Do you celebrate God and obey His commandments?' 'That would suggest,' Perry said, 'that goodness and God are essentially synonymous.' 'That's the idea,' the rabbi said. 'In biblical times, when God manifested Himself more directly. He could seem like quite the hard-ass--striking people blind for trivial offenses, telling Abraham to kill his son. But the essence of the Jewish faith is that God does what He does, and we obey Him.' 'So, in other words, it doesn't matter what a righteous person's private thoughts are, so long as he obeys the letter of God's commandments?' 'And worships Him, yes. Of course, at the level of folk wisdom, a man can be righteous without being a -mensch.- I'm sure you see this, too, Adam--the pious man who makes everyone around him miserable. That might be what Perry is asking about.' 'My question,' Perry said, 'is whether we can ever escape our selfishness. Even if you bring in God, and make him the measure of goodness, the person who worships and obeys Him still wants something for himself. He enjoys the feeling of being righteous, or he wants eternal life, or what have you. If you're smart enough to think about it, there's always some selfish angle.' The rabbi smiled. 'There may be no way around it, when you put it like that. But we "bring in God," as you say--for the believer, of course, it's God who brought -us- in--to establish a moral order in which your question becomes irrelevant. When obedience is the defining principle, we don't need to police every little private thought we might have.' 'I think there's more to Perry's question, though,' Reverend Walsh said. 'I think he is pointing to sinfulness, which is our fundamental condition. In Christian faith, only one man has ever exemplified perfect goodness, and he was the Son of God. The rest of us can only hope for glimmers of what it's like to be truly good. When we perform an act of charity, or forgive an enemy, we feel the goodness of Christ in our hearts. We all have an innate capability to recognize true goodness, but we're also full of sin, and those two parts of us are constantly at war.' 'Exactly,' Perry said. 'How do I know if I'm really being good or if I'm just pursuing a sinful advantage?' 'The answer, I would say, is by listening to your heart. Only your heart can tell you what your true motive is--whether it partakes of Christ. I think my position is similar to Rabbi Meyer's. The reason we need faith--in our case, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ--is that it gives us a rock-solid basis for evaluating our actions. Only through faith in the perfection of our Savior, only by comparing our actions to his example, only by experiencing his living presence in our hearts, can we hope to be forgiven for the more selfish thoughts we might have. Only faith in Christ redeems us. Without him, we're lost in a sea of second-guessing our motives.

... 'I understand what you're saying,' he [Perry] said to Reverend Walsh. 'But what if a person isn't able to have faith?' 'Not everyone finds faith overnight. Faith is rarely easy. But if you've ever done a good thing, and felt a glow in your heart, then that's a little message from God. He's telling you that Christ is in you, and that you have the freedom and capacity to pursue a closer relationship with him. Seek, and ye shall find.' 'It's approximately the same if you're a Jew,' the rabbi said, 'although we tend to emphasize that you're a Jew whether you feel like it or not. It's more a matter of God tracking you down than of you finding God.' 'I don't think our positions are so dissimilar in that respect,' Reverend Walsh said stiffly. ... 'But so,' he [Perry Hildebrandt] said, 'what if I feel the kind of glow you're talking about, but it doesn't lead me to God? What if it's just one of those feelings that any sentient animal might have? If I never find God, or He never finds me, it sound's like you're saying, basically, that I'm damned.' 'In principle, I suppose that is the doctrine,' Reverend Walsh said. 'But you're young, and life is long. There's a near infinity of moments when you might receive God's grace. All it takes is one moment.' 'In the meantime,' the rabbi said, 'I think it's enough to be a mensch.

Lord Gareth?" He froze. It was she, staring out at him with an expression of astounded disbelief on her lovely face. Gareth was caught totally unprepared. He knew he must look like an arse because he certainly felt like one. But the comic ridiculousness of the situation suddenly hit him, and his lips began twitching uncontrollably. He gazed up at her with perfect innocence. "Hello, Juliet." A chorus of out-of-tune voices came up from below. "Romeo, O Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?" Gareth flung his crop down at their heads. Cokeham let out a yelp, then fell to laughing. The girl's smooth, high brow pleated in a frown as she took in the scene. Perry down there with the horses. The other Den of Debauchery members all gathered below, beaming stupidly up at her. And Gareth, grinning, sprawled full-length along a tree branch just outside her window. "Just what on earth are you doing, Lord Gareth?" The way she said it made his cheeks warm with embarrassment. So he was a pillock. Who cared? Instead, he gave her his most devastating grin and said with cheerful earnestness, "Why, I have come to rescue you, of course." "Rescue me?" "Surely you didn't think I'd allow Lucien to banish you into obscurity, now, did you?" "Well, I —  The duke didn't ban—"  She gave a disbelieving little laugh and leaned out the window, grasping the blanket tightly at her breasts. Her hair, caught in a long, dark braid, swung tantalizingly out over her bosom. "Really, Lord Gareth. This is ... highly irregular!" "Yes, but the hour is late, and as it took me all day to find you, I was feeling rather impatient. I do hope you'll forgive me for resorting to such desperate measures. May I come in and talk?" "Of course not! I — I cannot have a man in my bedroom!" "Why not, my sweet?" He pushed aside a small, leafy twig in order to see her better and grinned cajolingly up at her. "I had you in mine." She shook her head, torn between what she wanted to do — and what she ought to do. "Really, Lord Gareth ... your brother will never approve of this. You should go home. After all, you're the son of a duke and I'm just a — " " — beautiful young woman with nowhere else to go. A beautiful young woman who should be a part of my family. Now, do collect Charlotte and your things, Miss Paige — I fear we must make haste, if we are to marry before Lucien catches up to us." "Marry?!" she cried, forgetting to whisper. He gazed at her in blank, perfect innocence. "Well, yes, of course," he said, clinging to the branch as it dropped another few inches. "Surely you don't think I'd be hanging out of a tree for anything less, do you?" "But —" "Come now."  He smiled disarmingly. "Surely, you must see there is really no other option for you. And I won't have my niece growing up without a father. What kind of a man do you think I am? Now, gather up Charlotte and get your things, my dear Miss Paige, and come outside. I am growing most uncomfortable." Juliet

Repressing If you are a repressor, your natural inclination is to push away strong feelings and say, ‘Shush,’ when you are confronted with them, or ‘Don’t make a fuss, nothing’s the matter,’ or ‘Be brave.’ If you dismiss a child’s feeling as unimportant, they are less liable to share any subsequent feeling with you, whether or not you might consider these to be unimportant. Overreacting On the other end of the scale, you might be feeling so much for the child that you become as hysterical as they are and cry along with them, as though their pain is yours rather than theirs. This is an easy mistake to make, for example in the first few days that you drop your child off at nursery, before you both get used to it. If you take over a child’s feelings like this, they are also less likely to want to share how they feel with you. They may think that they are too much for you, or that you invade them by merging with their feelings. Containing Containing means that you can acknowledge and validate all your feelings. If you can do this for yourself, you’ll find it natural to do this for your child as well. You can take a feeling seriously without overreacting and remain contained and optimistic. You might say, ‘Oh dear, you are unhappy. Would you like a cuddle? Come to me, then. There we are, I’m going to hold you until you feel better.’ If a child knows they will be seen and soothed but not judged by you, they are more likely to tell you what is going on for them. This is what a child needs: for a parent to be a container for their emotions. This means you are alongside them and know and accept what they feel but you are not being overwhelmed by their feelings. This is one of the things psychotherapists do for their clients.

The wind blew the clouds blocking the sun and revealed not everything was as random as it seemed.

The seasons came and went as art-filled clouds gracefully formed into the imaginations of the world as a magical presentation, giving life through the rain, giving hope to the dreamers, dispersing as a question with no answer.

I instinctively raised my right hand high above my head and shouted 'Peace! Peace! Peace!

The universe swirled and my ancestors danced and journeyed and created fro generations as war and peace and birth and death and joy and grief collided into loss and found as the power of 'and' continues with each sunrise and sunset.

I deeply breathed in centuries of injustice, then exhaled slowly as my breath forever mingled with the history of this place.

The stars aligned as generations of messengers brought each of us where we now stand, while the ocean waves propelled their journeys in ways we can't imagine.

I’m a reference librarian. I have a master’s degree in prying.

I’m not going to hold back. I’m not going to take this slow. I’ve missed too many years with you, and I am not going to waste another second. You’re mine. August is mine.

Loftus clenched his right fist, extended it in front of him, and gently lowered it to the desk. There was something more impressive in the gesture than would have been the case had he banged the top of the desk with explosive violence. “I don’t like criminal lawyers,” he said. “Neither do I,” Mason admitted, seating himself in what appeared to be the most comfortable chair in the office. “But you’re a criminal lawyer.” “It depends upon what you mean,” Mason observed. “I’m a lawyer. I’m not a criminal.” “You defend criminals.” “What is your definition of a criminal?” Mason asked. “A man who has committed a crime.” “And who decides that he has committed a crime?” “Why, a jury, I suppose.” “Exactly,” Mason said, with a smile. “So far, I have been very fortunate in having juries agree with me that the persons I represented were not criminals.” Loftus said, “That isn’t conclusive.” “Judges think it is,” Mason said, still smiling.

So in the middle of the next trial, pay attention to your response. How’s your faith in it, your joy during it, your resolve because of it? I’m sure it won’t be as perfect as the Christ’s, but is it better than what it used to be? Is it moving you more toward Christ than you were the last go-around? If so, be encouraged. God is completing a work in you. Morning by morning and day by day, the mercies aren’t the only new thing you’re waking up to. It’s also you.

I worried that if I showed how much I loved your food, everyone would see.” “See what?” “That I’m in love with you.

You love to travel?” It was a question and a statement. Iris nodded. “Then travel.” I brushed a lock of hair off her temple. “You love this house?” Another nod. “Then stay. You can have both.” “And what about you?” “You can have me too.” She blinked rapidly. Then in a flash, she put her hands on my face and pulled my mouth to hers. “I’m not leaving.” The air rushed from my lungs. “Thank fuck.” “And I’m keeping you.” I dropped my forehead to hers. “Good.

Though I am young and feminine—very feminine—I am not that quaint conceit, a girl: the sort of person that Laura E. Richards writes about, and Nora Perry, and Louisa M. Alcott,—girls with bright eyes, and with charming faces (they always have charming faces), standing with reluctant feet where the brook and river meet,—and all that sort of thing. I missed all that. And then, usually, if one is not a girl, one is a heroine—of the kind you read about. But I am not a heroine, either. A heroine is beautiful—eyes like the sea shoot opaque glances from under drooping lids—walks with undulating movements, her bright smile haunts one still, falls methodically in love with a man—always with a man, eats things (they are always called “viands”) with a delicate appetite, and on special occasions her voice is full of tears. I do none of these things. I am not beautiful. I do not walk with undulating movements—indeed, I have never seen any one walk so, except, perhaps, a cow that has been overfed. My bright smile haunts no one. I shoot no opaque glances from my eyes, which are not like the sea by any means. I have never eaten any viands, and my appetite for what I do eat is most excellent. And my voice has never yet, to my knowledge, been full of tears. No, I am not a heroine. There never seem to be any plain heroines except Jane Eyre, and she was very unsatisfactory. She should have entered into marriage with her beloved Rochester in the first place. I should have, let there be a dozen mad wives upstairs. But I suppose the author thought she must give her heroine some desirable thing—high moral principles, since she was not beautiful. Some people say beauty is a curse. It may be true, but I’m sure I should not have at all minded being cursed a little. And I know several persons who might well say the same. But, anyway, I wish some one would write a book about a plain, bad heroine so that I might feel in real sympathy with her.

A key part of a neurosequential approach is to help parents, teachers, and clinicians know the “stage” and watch the “state.” Meaning we want to help them learn what the child’s actual developmental capabilities are—their actual stage, as opposed to their age. And we want to help them become aware of the child’s state-dependence; we encourage them to ask themselves, “Is this child in a state where they can effectively ‘hear’ what I’m trying to say or teach?

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma Bessel van der Kolk, M.D.

Born for Love: Why Empathy Is Essential—and Endangered Maia Szalavitz and Bruce D. Perry, M.D., Ph.D.

Together: The Healing Power of Human Connection in a Sometimes Lonely World Vivek H. Murthy, M.D.

She could not remember that she had ever been like that as a young girl herself. But Sylvia, it appeared, believed that if you didn’t think things out for yourself (and the conclusions to these thoughts were inevitably in direct opposition to what Mrs. Perry called ordinary decency and Sylvia alluded to as middle-class morality) then you were an unfulfilled person, and consequently an unhappy one. “Well, anyway, I’m not unhappy,” said Mrs. Perry, emphatically.

Yesterday, I told you about the hardest part of my life. I told you about my first-worst day. I told you about the woman who destroyed me. I’m not asking you to tell me about Drake’s father. But I’m promising you that if you want to give me that trust, I won’t betray it.