My Most Prized Possession Quotes

Among my most prized possessions are words that I have never spoken.

I like to save things. Not important things like whales or people or the environment. Silly things. Porcelain bells, the kind you get at souvenir shops. Cookie cutters you’ll never use, because who needs a cookie in the shape of a foot? Ribbons for my hair. Love letters. Of all the things I save, I guess you could say my love letters are my most prized possession.

I DECLARE I am special and extraordinary. I am not average! I have been custom-made. I am one of a kind. Of all the things God created, what He is the most proud of is me. I am His masterpiece, his most prized possession. I will keep my head held high, knowing I am a child of the most high God, made in his very image. This is my declaration.

My ability is my most prized possession, even though it separates me from everyone else. But for power, for my own power, it is a price I am willing to pay.

And there was my most prized possession: a framed oil painting of Edward Cullen on the wall above the sink, sparkly and magnificent as he gazed moodily into the middle distance.

But as I lift up the lid of my most prized possession, I realize my lifeline might just be the one thing that helps me drown.

My Japanese designed, vacuum-sealed thermos was one of my most prized possessions. I had filled it up before I went to sleep so there were no worries. This baby laughed in the face of entropy.

She’s just a possession to you,” Owen insisted. “My most prized possession, as it happens,” said Dane. “And I have every intention of keeping her. Deal with it. Accept it. Leave her alone. Get rid of this dream you have of winning her back. It won’t happen.

I like to save things. Not important things like whales or people or the environment. Silly things. Porcelain bells, the kind you get at souvenir shops. Cookie cutters you’ll never use, because who needs a cookie in the shape of a foot? Ribbons for my hair. Love letters. Of all the things I save, I guess you could say my love letters are my most prized possession. I keep my letters in a teal hatbox my mom bought me from a vintage store downtown. They aren’t love letters that someone else wrote for me; I don’t have any of those. These are ones I’ve written. There’s one for every boy I’ve ever loved—five in all. When I write, I hold nothing back. I write like he’ll never read it. Because he never will. Every secret thought, every careful observation, everything I’ve saved up inside me, I put it all in the letter. When I’m done, I seal it, I address it, and then I put it in my teal hatbox. They’re not love letters in the strictest sense of the word. My letters are for when I don’t want to be in love anymore. They’re for good-bye. Because after I write my letter, I’m no longer consumed by my all-consuming love. I can eat my cereal and not wonder if he likes bananas over his Cheerios too; I can sing along to love songs and not be singing them to him. If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms. My letters set me free. Or at least they’re supposed to.

By the way, I’m not yours,” I told him. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself. Nothing changes that.” “What if I just wanted a piece of you?” He shifted the reins to his other hand. “A tiny piece that belonged to me? I can think of a few I would love to have, Princess.” My cheeks warmed. “I bet you can.” His laugh was rough and deep. “Tell me what piece of you I can have. It can be any piece of your choosing. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.” His chin grazed my cheek. “It will be my most prized possession.

That must be my surgeon coming aboard. You will like him; a reading man too, most amazing learned; a full-blown physician into the bargain, and my particular friend. But I must tell you this, Yorke; he is wealthy – ‘ In point of fact Captain Aubrey had little idea of his surgeon’s fortune, apart from knowing that he owned a good deal of hilly land in Catalonia with a tumbledown castle on it. But Stephen had done pretty well out of the Mauritius campaign; his manner of living was Spartan – one suit of clothes every five years and perhaps a couple of shirts – and apart from books he had no visible expenses at all. Jack was no Macchiavel, but he did know that to the rich it should be given; that capital possessed a mystical significance; that even the most perfectly disinterested respected it and its owner; and that although a naval surgeon was ordinarily a person of no great consequence, the same man moved into quite a different category the moment he was endowed with comfortable private means. In short, that whereas an ordinary surgeon, living on his pay, might not readily be indulged in room for exotic livestock, an imperfectly- preserved giant squid, and several tons of natural specimens, in a stranger’s ship, a wealthy natural philosopher might meet with more consideration; and Jack knew how Stephen prized the collection he had made during their arduous voyage. ‘ – he is wealthy, and he only comes with me because of the opportunities for natural philosophy; though he is a first-rate surgeon, too, and we are lucky to have him. But this voyage the opportunities have been prodigious, and he has turned the Leopard into a down-right Ark. Most of the Desolation creatures are stuffed or pickled but there are some from New Holland that skip and bound about: I hope you are not too crowded in La Fleche?

He held up my most prized possession, a sweatshirt from spring break during my senior year of college. It was faded, tattered, and perfect for wearing while eating peanut butter with your fingers and crying about your incredibly shitty marriage.

It is possible to be killed by the most prized of possessions, to be destroyed by the greatest invention of our time. It is possible to die in the street no matter how you began the day. This is the first universal truth I have ever come by on my own and it multiplies like fire.

Red Buffalo emerged from the darkness, leading his favorite war pony. Loretta and Hunter, arms looped around one another, turned to face him. When Red Buffalo reached Loretta, he grasped her hand and curled her fingers around the horse’s line. “Red Buffalo, I can’t take your war pony!” This horse, she knew, was Red Buffalo’s most prized possession, precision trained, his greatest edge when he rode into battle. It was a great honor he was bestowing upon her, perhaps the greatest honor a warrior could bestow on anyone, but she couldn’t in good conscience accept. “Please, keep your horse.” “My cousin’s fine Comanche wife must have a fine horse to carry her. You will never make it into the west lands on a scrawny, poorly trained tosi tivo horse.” Red Buffalo extended his hand to her. In friendship. She had vowed once that she would never take his hand in friendship, never. For a moment she hesitated. Then the last hard little knot of hatred within her disintegrated, and she placed her palm across his. Loretta knew that her mother would approve. For Loretta and Hunter, the war between their people had to end. There was no room for the past in their lives, no room for bitterness. Red Buffalo smiled, inclined his head to Hunter, and turned to leave. “Red Buffalo, would you give Swift Antelope a message for me? Tell him Amy hasn’t forgotten her promise, that she’ll wait for him.” Red Buffalo lifted his arm in farewell. “I will tell him.

Love letters. Of all the things I save, I guess you could say my love letters are my most prized possession.

D: "I may not be the easiest person to care for, but what you never need to worry about is if our bond is a facade or not. It is the single most pure thing in my life that I will guard and nurture like my most prized possession because it is. You are my Comoară." A: "What does that mean?" D: "It means my treasure in Romanian. Oh, be still my fucking heart.

Earning her and her heart has been my greatest accomplishment, making it my most prized possession. A treasure any worthy thief will try to steal. A treasure many have tried to take and failed.

His laugh was rough and deep. “Tell me what piece of you I can have. It can be any piece of your choosing. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.” His chin grazed my cheek. “It will be my most prized possession.” I didn’t offer Casteel a piece of me as we rode forward, joining the others. There was no reason to because what he didn’t know was that he already held too many of them.

Fuck it. I don’t want to save her. I want to fucking take her. I will steal her from my brother, right out of his tiny hands and keep her to myself. I will show her what it’s like to be with a real man. A man that truly does treat her like a queen. Someone that will cater to her every desire, treat her body like it’s my most prized possession, and show her a happiness she doesn’t know exists yet.

I have to fight the urge to run away and hide, feeling undeserving of how he's worshipping my body like I'm his most prized possession.

It was closer to obsession. A mad desire to possess and cherish the way an art collector revered his most prized masterpiece. She was mine, and it was my right to care for her. No one else’s.

One of the most important resiliencies for adoptive parents of toddlers is nurturing their own sense of humor and playfulness. Laughter is medicine for the soul; it serves a restorative function; it helps people keep their perspective; and it even enhances attachment. One of my most prized possessions is a poem my daughter wrote for Mother’s Day when she was 11. In her poem, titled, “Why I Love My Mother,” she describes me as having “laughing eyes filled with love.” I can’t think of a better compliment.

Ooh, let me see my one,” Megan cries, grabbing the camera from him and pressing at it wildly. My whole body tenses. Normally, I don’t mind sharing things—I even give half my advent-calendar chocolates to my brother, Tom—but my camera is different. It’s my most prized possession. It’s my safety net.

I am so happy you are here,” I sighed. I smiled up at him as he drew back.             “Will you come home with me then?” He smiled back.             I reached up and touched his face reverently. “Maybe,” I teased.             He frowned. “I will give you anything…anything that is mine is yours, just ask me for it! Just come home with me today…please, Nerissa!”             “Anything?”             He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me gently into his warmth. “You belong with me and the girls.”             I smiled. “Anything?” I lifted an eyebrow.             He grinned and nodded.             I kissed him tenderly then. “These I already claimed.” I kissed him again for good measure and didn’t know if I wanted to pull away or stop. He tasted quite lovely. “I already have your love…which is too much.” I grasped the collar of his coat and tugged. His eyes softened on me. “Maybe I could ask for Zosimo?”             He chuckled. “He’s yours already.”             I mocked shock. “Your most prized possession?”             His eyes grew serious. “Other than my daughters…you are my most prized possession, Nerissa,” he whispered. His eyes held mine.             “Me?”             “You are mine?”             I nodded dumbly.             “Then, yes.”             I wanted to take him down in the snow right there and kiss him senseless. “And you are mine?” Yes, I heard my own voice tremble, damn it!             He groaned. “No one else’s…ever.

Tell me what piece of you I can have. It can be any piece of your choosing. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.” His chin grazed my cheek. “It will be my most prized possession.

You should see what she likes,” Aero answers. “You wouldn’t believe how nasty this little angel gets.” His head drops back against the seat of the couch, his warm breath caressing my pussy as he continues talking, staring up at me bare before him. “Isn’t that right, baby?” “Yes,” I moan, feeling myself get wetter with every word that falls from his lips. His hands skim up the backs of my thighs, fingers pushing deep and hard until they reach the cusp of my ass. He grips, then pulls me open, giving his friend the full view of every part of me. I feel humiliated, degraded, and somehow more treasured than ever before. He’s parading his most prized possession and, as dehumanizing as it can seem, I can’t help but find it oddly attractive. It’s entirely overwhelming, and I’m already feeling light-headed in this lust-filled smog. “Fuck, she’s perfect,” Nox says, admiring me. “You ever seen an angel leave a body?” Aero asks, gripping the lace thong and making me gasp as he rips it apart, pulling it down my thigh. “Wait until you see her face when she comes.

Tell me what piece of you I can have. It can be any piece of your choosing. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.” His chin grazed my cheek. “It will be my most prized possession.” I didn’t offer Casteel a piece of me as we rode forward, joining the others. There was no reason to because what he didn’t know was that he already held too many of them.

My car is already packed with clothes and supplies for all of us," Saint snapped like that was obvious just as I made it back to him. "I also took the liberty of securing Tatum's father's ashes and the letters from her sister down in the crypt." "What about the necklace she asked me to look after?" Monroe asked, taking a step back, like he was willing to go hunting for it even as we heard a knock at the front door. Saint pressed a finger to his lips before opening a pocket on the side of the bag of cash he held, revealing the necklace alongside the plaque my mom had given me, Nash's little collection of mementos from his previous life and Kyan's sketchbook. Monroe gaped at him in clear confusion as to how Saint had managed to steal his most prized possessions, but considering our situation he couldn’t really fault his methods. I caught a glimpse of the pen and lighter Saint had stolen from me and Kyan oh so long ago too before he zipped the pocket shut again and threw the bag over his shoulder. My heart surged with love for my brother as we hounded him towards the crypt on silent feet. For someone who claimed not to understand love or sentiments, he'd instantly figured out the few things that meant the most to the people he cared about and had secured them in preparation of this happening. Deep down, Saint Memphis was as soft as butter and he was starting to let it show.

Intimacy is “into-me-see.” I am going to talk to you, my beloved, and I am going to share with you my most prized possessions, which are no longer my dowry and the fruit of my womb but my hopes, my aspirations, my fears, my longings, my feelings—in other words, my inner life. And you, my beloved, will give me eye contact. No scrolling while I bare my soul. I need to feel your empathy and validation. My significance depends on it.

I was scared out of my mind,” Rhys admitted, not a shade of shame to be found. “I’d been learning to wield my powers, but Illyrian magic was a mere fraction of it. And it’s rare amongst them—usually possessed only by the most powerful, pure-bred warriors.” Again, I looked at the slumbering Siphons atop the warriors’ hands. “I tried to use a Siphon during those years,” Rhys said. “And shattered about a dozen before I realized it wasn’t compatible—the stones couldn’t hold it. My power flows and is honed in other ways.” “So difficult, being such a powerful High Lord,” Mor teased. Rhys rolled his eyes. “The camp-lord banned me from using my magic. For all our sakes. But I had no idea how to fight when I set foot into that training ring that day. The other boys in my age group knew it, too. Especially one in particular, who took a look at me, and beat me into a bloody mess.” “You were so clean,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “The pretty half-breed son of the High Lord—how fancy you were in your new training clothes.” “Cassian,” Azriel told me with that voice like darkness given sound, “resorted to getting new clothes over the years by challenging other boys to fights, with the prize being the clothes off their backs.” There was no pride in the words—not for his people’s brutality. I didn’t blame the shadowsinger, though. To treat anyone that way … Cassian, however, chuckled. But I was now taking in the broad, strong shoulders, the light in his eyes. I’d never met anyone else in Prythian who had ever been hungry, desperate—not like I’d been. Cassian blinked, and the way he looked at me shifted—more assessing, more … sincere. I could have sworn I saw the words in his eyes: You know what it is like. You know the mark it leaves. “I’d beaten every boy in our age group twice over already,” Cassian went on. “But then Rhys arrived, in his clean clothes, and he smelled … different. Like a true opponent. So I attacked. We both got three lashings apiece for the fight.

By the way, I'm not yours,' I told him. 'I don't belong to anyone but myself. Nothing changes that.' 'What if I just wanted a piece of you?' He shifted the reins to his other hand. 'A tiny piece that belonged to me? I can think of a few I would love to have, Princess.' My cheeks warmed. 'I bet you can.' His laugh was rough and deep. 'Tell me what piece of you I can have. It can be any piece of your choosing. Whatever it is, I'll take it.' His chin grazed my cheek. 'It will be my most prized possession.

D: "I may not be the easiest person to care for, but what you never need to worry about is if our bond is a façade or not. It is the single most pure thing in my life that I will guard and nurture like my most prized possession because it is. You are my Comoară. A: "What does that mean?" D: "It means my treasure in Romanian

By the way, I’m not yours,” I told him. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself. Nothing changes that.” “What if I just wanted a piece of you?” He shifted the reins to his other hand. “A tiny piece that belonged to me? I can think of a few I would love to have, Princess.” My cheeks warmed. “I bet you can.” His laugh was rough and deep. “Tell me what piece of you I can have. It can be any piece of your choosing. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.” His chin grazed my cheek. “It will be my most prized possession.” I didn’t offer Casteel a piece of me as we rode forward, joining the others. There was no reason to because what he didn’t know was that he already held too many of them.