Monica Quotes

The thing about getting older is that you don't need everything to be possible any more, you just need things to be certain.

Hell,' Shane spit in disgust. 'I can't hit a girl. Here, Claire. You hit her.' He tossed her the bat.

To be fair to Monica," I said, "what you did to her wasn't very nice either." "What'd I do to her?" he asked, defensive. "You know, going blind and everything." "But that's not my fault," Isaac said. "I'm not saying it was your fault. I'm saying it wasn't nice.

Don't diss me, Danvers. I'm warning you.' 'I'm not dissing you,' Claire sighed. 'I'm ignoring you. There's a difference. Dissing you implies I think you're actually important.

But this girl...she doesn’t feel pointless. She’s real and she’s beautiful and she fits perfectly when she’s in my arms. She makes me want to feel.

Morning, noon & bloody night, Seven sodding days a week, I slave at filthy WORK, that might Be done by any book-drunk freak. This goes on until I kick the bucket. FUCK IT FUCK IT FUCK IT FUCK IT

How little our careers express what lies in us, and yet how much time they take up. It's sad, really.

I feel the only thing you can do about life is to preserve it, by art if you're an artist, by children if you're not.

I like the sound of that, crashing Monica's party," he glanced at Michael, then quickly away. "What about you? That break some kind of vampire rules or something?" "Blow me Shane." "Boys," Eve said primly. "Language. Minor at the table." "Well," Shane said, "I wasn't actually planning to do it." Claire rolled her eyes. "Not like it's the first time I've heard it. Or said it." "You shouldnt say it," Michael said, all seriousness. "No, I mean it. Girls should say 'eat me' not 'blow me'. Wouldn't recommend 'bite me' though. Not around here.

Originality is being different from oneself, not others.

“Marshmallow.”

Monica's eyes were fierce and fiery, but she didn't move, and after a second she turned and ran up the steps to the second floor, where her formally dressed friends were huddled like the cast of Survivor: Abercrombie & Fitch Island.

Besides," Shane said "I want to see Monica's face when she catches sight of the two of you. Kodak moment.

I have a sense of melancholy isolation, life rapidly vanishing, all the usual things. It's very strange how often strong feelings don't seem to carry any message of action.

Kid,” Richard said wearily, “I am not in the mood. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, my sister’s crazy–” “Hey!” Monica protested. “–and you’re not my high school crush–” “He is not my high school crush, Richard!” “The point it, I couldn’t give a crap about you, your friends, or your problems, because for me this isn’t personal. Monica will kill you because she’s nuts. I’ll kill you because you make me kill you. Are we straight?” “Well,” Shane said, “That’s kind of a personal question.

You’re kind of a psycho. I get that.” “I might be,” Monica agreed, and gave her a slow, strange smile. “You’re one smart little freak. Now run away, smart little freak, before I change my mind and stick you in one of these old suitcases for some architect to find a hundred years from now.” Claire blinked. “Archaeologist.” Monica’s eyes turned winter cold. “Oh, you’d better start running away now.

The rule of the Morrell family was over, and Richard owned a used-car lot and Monica worked at a nail salon, until one day she got run over by a bus. Very sad.

A thump thump thump noise that was so unfamiliar, and yet I couldn't quite place it. But I knew it. It was---"Mmm-hmmm," Monica murmured, just as Wes came view into the path. He was running, his pace quick and steady. He was in shorts, his shirt off, staring ahead as he passed. His back was tan and gleaming with sweat. God god!" she said finally, fanning her face with her hand, "I've seen it a million times but it just never gets old. Never.

Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I’ll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don’t – well, I think I’ve cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don’t know that they’ve got a daughter, you see.

I’ll never forget the things you said to me. Not because they mattered, but because they made me feel like I did.

For a passion that’s Able to shine like ours Blessed are we to Love Each other

When we’re lucky enough to find someone that makes our world brighter, shouldn’t we grab hold of that person and never let them go?

Once upon a time, we were cynics facing the world alone. Our story changed into two warrior cynics facing the world together. Now, we own the happily ever after and we refuse to let that bitch go.

There’s no going back,” he whispers … “Once I am inside you, you’re mine.” … “I want to be yours,” I answer in a breathy whisper. “I want to belong to you, Drew. Only you.

It’s been three years, four months, two days and a handful of hours since the first moment I set eyes on her. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. The absolute bane of my existence.

Maybe it was a mistake leaving you. And I don’t know how to make it right. Regret fills me every single day. So much of it builds up I Hate myself for Missing you. Hurting you. And I want you to know i... Long for you Love you Others may come and go in our lives but... We belong together

God doesn't like lesbians," Grandma Huberman hised, throwing the magazine in the trash. Jennifer knew what lesbian meant, and she knew she probably was one. But she couldn't understand why God would hold that against her or against Monica Mathers, who'd never started a war or killed anybody, and whose deadeye three-pointers were straight-up amazing. After all, hadn't God made both of them? But people were like that, she'd noticed. They'd invoke Godly privilege at the weirdest of times and for the most stupid reasons.

I am always trying to 'preserve' things by getting other people to read what I have written, and feel what I felt.

It’s the people who know you the best who can hurt you the most.

Sister Monica Joan murmured, as though to herself, but loud enough to be heard by all, "How perfectly charming. Old enough to know it all, and young enough to blush. Perfectly charming.

The Buddhists say if you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, your knees go weak, that’s not the one. When you meet your ‘soul mate’ you’ll feel calm. No anxiety, no agitation.

Dear, I can't write, it's all a fantasy: a kind of circling obsession.

Keys," she repeated, and slowly stepped back. "What do you mean, keys?" "Car keys. As in, give them up. Now." Shane had that look -- hard, and no bullshit. "We don't have time for your drama, Monica. Nobody does.

This isn’t a game to me, Fable. This is my life. And I want you to be a part of it … I want you and you only. I’m not sharing you with anyone else.

Oh, try not to sound so much like Mom—you don’t have the ovaries" (Monica Morrell - Last Breath)

Ma'am,' Augustus said, nodding toward her, 'your daughter's car has just been deservedly egged by a blind man. Please close the door and go back inside or we'll be forced to call the police.' After wavering for a moment, Monica's mom closed the door and disappeared.

True love isn’t easy, but it must be fought for. Once you find it, it can never be replaced.

Sometimes you have to stand alone, just to make sure you still can.

Merry Christmas. I bought you every shade of lipstick Chanel carries, so you can create your own million kisses in your lifetime. Hopefully you’ll share some of those kisses with me. Love, Crew

Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.

Loving someone is taking a constant risk with your emotions. When you find the right person,the one you know you want to be with, that person becomes worth the risk.

My heart will still ache sometimes. Maybe more often than not. I think it's possible to be healed without feeling whole.

I can’t fuck a commitment out of you. That’ll be worthless. I have to have your heart, Monica. The real thing. Without fear.

I'm terrified of the thought of time passing (or whatever is meant by that phrase) whether I 'do' anything or not. In a way I may believe, deep down, that doing nothing acts as a brake on 'time's - it doesn't of course. It merely adds the torment of having done nothing, when the time comes when it really doesn't matter if you've done anything or not.

I shut myself off to make life bearable. I'm like a damn machine sometimes. Unfeeling. Uncaring. Emotionless.

Her hands brushed Shane's, and he let go of the cards and took hold. And then somehow she was in his lap, and he was kissing her. Hadn't meant to do that but...well. She couldn't exactly be sorry about it, because he tasted amazing, and his lips were so soft and his hands were so strong... He leaned back, eyes half shut, and he was smiling. Shane didn't smile all that much, and it always left her breathless and tingling. There was a secrecy about it like he only ever smiled at her, and it just felt... perfect. 'Claire, you're being careful right?' He smoothed hair back from her face. 'Seriously. You'd tell me if you got into trouble?' 'No trouble,' She lied, thinking about Monica's not-so veiled threats, and that glimpse of Shane's dad seated across from Oliver in the coffee shop.'No trouble at all.' 'Good.' He kissed her again, then moved down her jawline to her neck, and, wow neck nibbles took her breath away. She closed her eyes and buried her fingers in his warm hair, trying to tell him through every touch how much she liked this, like him, loved... Her eyes came open, fast. She did not just think about that. Shane’s warm hands moved up her sides, thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts again, and he traced his fingers across the thin skin of her collarbone...down to where the neck of her T-shirt stopped him. Teasing. Pulling it down an inch, then two. And then, maddeningly, he let go and leaned back, lips damp. He licked them, watching her, and then gave her that slow crazy, sexy smile again. 'Go to bed' he said. 'Before I decide to come with.

When life sucks, throw yourself into art.

A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime. That’s what I want. I want someone to promise me a million kisses and more.

Because the story of your life never starts at the beginning.

And somewhere in heaven, Versace sheds a single, perfect tear.

Sometimes I look back and I am shocked. Everyday of my life I have prepared for success, worked for it, waited for it, and you don't notice how the days pass until nearly a lifetime is finished. Then it hits you--the thing you have been waiting for has already gone by. And it was going in the other direction. It's like I've been waiting on the wrong side of the road for a bus that was already full." p. 265

Never let yourself be swayed by emotions,' her mother had said. 'Emotions are fleeting. They come and go. But reality stays with you forever.

If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever. – Winnie the Pooh

The only value of wasted time is knowledge.

(eve)"what?" (claire)"monica got him to ask me. Told them to do this." (eve)"bitch! okay,i take it all back. She needs a good blowtorching." "no",Claire said faintly."Nobody deservs that. Nobody." (eve) "Great.Saint Claire,the patron saint of the kick-me sign.

Seriously, I think it is a grave fault in life that so much time is wasted in social matters, because it not only takes up time when you might be doing individual private things, but it prevents you storing up the psychic energy that can then be released to create art or whatever it is. It's terrible the way we scotch silence & solitude at every turn, quite suicidal. I can't see how to avoid it, without being very rich or very unpopular, & it does worry me, for time is slipping by , and nothing is done. It isn't as if anything was gained by this social frivolity, It isn't: it's just a waste.

She's a contradiction and I want to figure her out

Always go with your passions. Never ask yourself if it's realistic or not.

Even in love you need pain

For once, I want to know what it feels like to be someone's first choice". ~Fable

You sure you want me to be your first?” He drifts his fingers across my cheek, sliding them into my hair, holding the side of my head, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Because after I take one, I’m going to want them all.

Es hora de que se haga la oscuridad

But when it comes down to it, we all die alone.

Maybe we can't barter our feelings away, trading good deeds for bad ones and expecting to become whole.

Now you owe me two million kisses.

Most of the time I'm thinking of you All of the time I love you Remembering the good times and the bad So much as Happened and Maybe I'm loving too fast All I know is I... Love you. And want to Live with you Only you Will you be my wife?

You’ve been a bitch, goddess. That’s over. From now on, you step when I say walk. You eat when I feed you. You come when I allow it. If I so much as look at your knees, you get on them and open your fucking mouth.

I always want him. Always. It’s always like this between us, too. We come together and we simply…combust. So easily. Beautifully. Does he even know how he affects me? Does he realize how my heart now rests in his hands? I belong to him completely

Don’t say it, Birdy. Not now, when we’re FaceTiming each other.” His smile is smug. “Save it for when we’re actually together.” I burst out laughing. “How did you know?” “Because I feel the same way.

I read that Monica Seles got stabbed. And although I have nothing against Monica Seles, I'm glad somebody in sports got stabbed. I like the idea of it; it's good entertainment. If we're lucky, it'll spread through sports. And show business, too! Wouldn't you like to see a guy jump up on stage and stab some famous singer? Especially a real shitty pop singer? Maybe they'll even start stabbing comedians. Fuck it, I'm ready! I never perform without my can of mace. I have a switchblade knife, too. I'll cut your eye out and go right on telling jokes.

Funny how someone can come into your life for such a brief time but leave such a lasting impression.

I really need to break him of the bad language habit he’s developing at a rapid pace, but who am I to talk? I curse all the fucking time.

What’s your favorite color?” “Green.” He leans in, his mouth so close to my ear, just like I imagined last night. “Like your eyes.

Hay algo extraño en él.

When you have nothing left to lose. When there’s nothing left to gain. You find yourself at the edge of the world, wishing nothing would have changed,” I read and instantly got a twisted feeling in the pit of my stomach. “All you can do is jump.

Saki says that youth is like hors d'oeuvres: you are so busy thinking of the next courses you don't notice it. When you've had them, you wish you'd had more hors d'oeuvres.

She wanted to inhale him. Devour him. Lick every inch of his incredible body.

No habría nada en el mundo que la apartara de él.

He might be more trouble than he’s worth but I don’t think so. This man came into my life for some reason. Just as I came into his. Maybe we’re supposed to help each other cope. Or give each other hope.

This won't stop her from getting elected," Shane said. "Stupider people get elected all the time. It's America. We love the sleazy. And the crazy." "I would like to think better of us," Claire said, "but yeah. You're right.

Sometimes hope can be poisonous.

I want to map every inch of her skin with my mouth. I want to sit with her in my arms and kiss her for hours, until our lips are swollen and our jaws are tired. I want to know what she looks like when she comes. And I want to be the one who makes her come with my name falling from her lips.

I’m too caught up in this…pretend life I’m so completely submersed in. And you know what? I like it. I love it. Even though I know deep down inside, it’s fake. That the way you talk to me, look at me, touch me. Kiss me…is all for show. I’m some sort of protection for you but I don’t care. I want it. I want you.

Don't tear me from one prison, only to damn me to another.

[T]he very multiculturalism and multiethnicity that brought Salman to the West, and that also made us richer by Hanif Kureishi, Nadeem Aslam, Vikram Seth, Monica Ali, and many others, is now one of the disguises for a uniculturalism, based on moral relativism and moral blackmail (in addition to some more obvious blackmail of the less moral sort) whereby the Enlightenment has been redefined as 'white' and 'oppressive,' mass illegal immigration threatens to spoil everything for everybody, and the figure of the free-floating transnational migrant has been deposed by the contorted face of the psychopathically religious international nihilist, praying for the day when his messianic demands will coincide with possession of an apocalyptic weapon. (These people are not called nihilists for nothing.) Of all of this we were warned, and Salman was the messenger. Mutato nomine et de te fabula narrator: Change only the name and this story is about you.

Her eyes widened. “My.” She looked at him hesitantly and then bit her lip. “This might be more difficult than I realized. You’re a large man, aren’t you?” She blushed. “I mean, all over.” He managed to nod. Yes, damn it. And getting excruciatingly larger by the minute.

She fit her hand around the curve of his whiskered jaw. “I’m sorry. But I knew you would not leave otherwise—” “Damn right I would not have left,” he said gruffly. “Don’t you understand what you mean to me? You are everything. Never doubt that. My place is with you, only you.

You know, one meets so many people, the years pass and pass, but there are certain times, certain people— . . . They take up room. So much room. I was married to Howard for twenty-eight years and yet he made only a piddling dent in my memory. A little nick. But certain others, they move in and make themselves at home and start flapping their arms in the story you make of your life. They have a wingspan. . . .

Shane’s dad stopped the van,” Claire said. “He took Monica as a hostage.” For a second, neither one of them moved, and then Eve whooped and held up her hand for a high five. Claire just stared at her, and Eve compensated by clapping both hands over her head. “Yesssss!” she said, and did a totally geeky victory dance. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer psycho!” “Hey!” Claire yelled, and Eve froze in midcelebration. It was stupid, but Claire was angry; she knew Eve was right, knew she had no reason at all to think Monica was ever going to be anything but a gigantic pain in the ass, but… “Shane’s dad’s going to burn her if they go through with the execution. He has a blowtorch.” The glee dropped out of Eve’s expression. “Oh,” she said. “Well…still. Not like she didn’t ask for it. Karma’s a bitch, and so am I.

I'll always be damaged in a way. I had hoped that I could completely heal those cracks, but I'm starting to think the real trick is learning to live a full life in spite of them. Cracked people are everywhere, and so I can forgive myself for being overly anxious or easily frightened. But I will no longer allow myself to be swallowed by my past. I insist on having the happiest life I can muster, and I am in control of that now.

When things come to an end in a way you didn't expect, in a way you never could have imagined, do they really come to an end? Does it mean you should keep searching, for better answers, for ones that don't keep you up at night? Or does it mean it's time to make peace?

She touched his hand for the last time. "Oh, Karim, that we have already done. But always there was a problem between us. How can I explain? I wasn't me, and you weren't you. From the very beginning to the very end, we didn't see things. What we did--we made each other up." p. 382

I walked towards her. Jean-Claude grabbed my arm. "Do not harm her, Anita. She is under our protection." "I swear to you that I will not lay a finger on her tonight. I just want to tell her something." He released my arm, slowly, like he wasn't sure it was a good idea. I stepped next to Monica, until our bodies almost touched. I whispered into her face, "If anything happens to Catherine, I will see you dead." She smirked at me, confident in her protectors. "They will bring me back as one of them." I felt my head shake, a little to the right, a little to the left, a slow precise movement. "I will cut out your heart." I was still smiling, I couldn'tseem to stop. "Then I will burn it and scatter the ashes in the river. Do you understand me?" She swallowed audibly. Her health-club tan looked a little green. She nodded, staring at me like I was the bogey man. I think she believed I'd do it. Peachy keen. I hate to waste a really good threat

She shook her head. 'Look. We both know life is short, Macy. Too short to waste a single second with anyone who doesn't appreciate and value you.' 'You said the other day life was long,' I shot back. 'Which is it?' ' It's both,' she said, shrugging. 'IT all depends on how you choose to live it. It's like forever, always changing.' 'Nothing can be two opposite things at once,' I said. 'It's impossible.' 'No,' she replied, squeezing my hand,' what's impossible is that we actually think it could be anything other than that. Look, when I was in the hosptal, right after the accident, they thought I was going to die. I was really fucked up, big time.' 'Uh-huh,' Monica said, looking at her sister. 'Then,' Kristy continued, nodding at her, 'life was very short, literally. but now that I'm better it seems so long I have to squint to see even the edges of it. It's all in the view, Macy. That's what I mean about forever, too. For any one of us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred years from now. You can never know for sure, so you'd better make every second count.' Monica, lighting another cigarette, nodded. 'Mmm-hmm,' she said. 'What you have to decide,' Kristy said to me, leaning foreward, 'is how you want your life to be. If your forever was ending tomorrow, would this be how you'd want to have spent it? It seemed like it was a choice I had already made. I'd spent the last year and a half with Jason, shaping my life to fit his, doing what I had to in order to make sure I had a plae in his perfect world, where things made sense. But it hadn't worked. 'Listen,' Kristy said,' the truth is, nohing is guaranteed. You know that more than anybody.' She looed at me hard, making sure I knew what she meant. I did. 'So don't be afraid. Be alive.' But then, I couldn't imagine, after everything that had happened, how you could live and not constantly be worrying about the dangers all around you. Especially when you'd already gotten teh scare of your life. 'It's the same thing,' I told her. 'What is?' 'Being afraid and being alive.' 'No,' she said slowly, and now it was as if she was speaking a language she knew at first I wouldn't understand, the very words, not to mention the concept, being foreign to me. 'Macy, no. It's not.

Donneven," I said, in my best Monica imitation, and he laughed. "We're not talking about me." "We could be," he said, as I watched Bert take note of a group of what looked like ninth graders who had just come into the living room. "I'm not gorgeous," I said. "Sure you are." I just shook my head, knowing this was him evading the question. "You," I said, "have this whole tall, dark stranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit." "Bit?" "You know what I mean." He shook his head, clearly discounting this description. "And you," he said, "have that whole blonde, cool and collected, perfect smart girl thing going on." "You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with," I said. "You," he replied, "are the unattainable girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day.

Ancient moon priestesses were called virgins. ‘Virgin’ meant not married, not belong to a man - a woman who was ‘one-in-herself’. The very word derives from a Latin root meaning strength, force, skill; and was later applied to men: virle. Ishtar, Diana, Astarte, Isis were all all called virgin, which did not refer to sexual chasity, but sexual independence. And all great culture heroes of the past…, mythic or historic, were said to be born of virgin mothers: Marduk, Gilgamesh, Buddha, Osiris, Dionysus, Genghis Khan, Jesus - they were all affirmed as sons of the Great Mother, of the Original One, their worldly power deriving from her. When the Hebrews used the word, and in the original Aramaic, it meant ‘maiden’ or ‘young woman’, with no connotations to sexual chasity. But later Christian translators could not conceive of the ‘Virgin Mary’ as a woman of independent sexuality, needless to say; they distorted the meaning into sexually pure, chaste, never touched. When Joan of Arc, with her witch coven associations, was called La Pucelle - ‘the Maiden,’ ‘the Virgin’ - the word retained some of its original pagan sense of a strong and independent woman. The Moon Goddess was worshipped in orgiastic rites, being the divinity of matriarchal women free to take as many lovers as they choose. Women could ‘surrender’ themselves to the Goddess by making love to a stranger in her temple.

Many governments employ torture but this was the first time that the element of Saturnalia and pornography in the process had been made so clear to me. If you care to imagine what any inadequate or cruel man might do, given unlimited power over a woman, then anything that you can bring yourself to suspect was what became routine in ESMA, the Navy Mechanics School that became the headquarters of the business. I talked to Dr. Emilio Mignone, a distinguished physician whose daughter Monica had disappeared into the precincts of that hellish place. What do you find to say to a doctor and a humanitarian who has been gutted by the image of a starving rat being introduced to his daughter's genitalia? Like hell itself the school was endorsed and blessed by priests, in case any stray consciences needed to be stilled.

Apa yang tidak kuketahui-saat masih muda dulu-ada dua jenis cinta. Jenis yang bermula begitu dahsyatnya dan pelan-pelan menghilang, yang terasa seperti tak akan pernah habis lalu suatu hari tahu-tahu ludes. Lalu ada jenis yang tadinya tidak disadari, tetapi terus tumbuh sedikit demi sedikit setiap harinya, seperti kerang yang menghasilkan mutiara, bulir demi bulir, sebuah permata dari pasir.

Nursing is a kind of mania; a fever in the blood; an incurable disease which, once contracted, cannot be got out of the system. If it was not like that, there would be no hospital nurses, for compared dispassionately with other professions, the hours are long, the work hard, and the pay inadequate to the amount of concentrated energy required. A nurse, however, does not view her profession dispassionately. It is too much a part of her.

I don't like cleaning or dusting or cooking or doing dishes, or any of those things," I explained to her. "And I don't usually do it. I find it boring, you see." "Everyone has to do those things," she said. "Rich people don't," I pointed out. Juniper laughed, as she often did at things I said in those early days, but at once became quite serious. "They miss a lot of fun," she said. "But quite apart from that--keeping yourself clean, preparing the food you are going to eat, clearing it away afterward--that's what life's about, Wise Child. When people forget that, or lose touch with it, then they lose touch with other important things as well." "Men don't do those things." "Exactly. Also, as you clean the house up, it gives you time to tidy yourself up inside--you'll see.