Nashville Quotes

I was in Nashville, Tennessee last year. After the show I went to a Waffle House. I'm not proud of it, I was hungry. And I'm alone, I'm eating and I'm reading a book, right? Waitress walks over to me: 'Hey, whatcha readin' for?' Isn't that the weirdest fuckin' question you've ever heard? Not what am I reading, but what am I reading FOR? Well, goddamnit, ya stumped me! Why do I read? Well . . . hmmm...I dunno...I guess I read for a lot of reasons and the main one is so I don't end up being a fuckin' waffle waitress.

I could get drunk and run around Nashville naked. But I won't because I want to set a good example for my fans. I think they deserve to have a role model.

When I was in Nashville, I went to our Macy's and went and tried on all the Hannah Montana stuff. Then I said, 'This is weird, I'm wearing my face.

Nashville has always been competitive. My granddaddy called it the Hillbilly Babylon.

I’m currently between assignments and was looking for a change. I heard there was work in Nashville and it seemed like a good place to start over. So here I am stuck in the freezing cold with a…serial killer. Has the making for a great horror movie, huh? (Leta)

Being Jesus means that we go through life embracing it all fully and feeling it all deeply. That we don’t hide and try to protect ourselves. That we live. That we show up. That we laugh. That we cry. That we hurt. That we heal. That we care. That we love. And then, that we wake up the next morning and sign up for it all over again.

What the hell am I doing in Nashville? What – you want me to shoot Minnie Pearl? (Steele)

Maybe being Jesus is simply seeing people as they truly are.

It’s odd how you can know someone for such a short period of time and yet feel like you’ve always been there with them.

It’s not our job to make people like us if they don’t want to. It’s not our job to change people. That’s beyond our control. But what you CAN control is how you respond to it.

You’re still several calamities short of a country song, Jordan. If your truck breaks down or your dog dies, I’ll put in a call to Nashville for you. In the meantime, suck it up.

I'm in love with Dr. Lowe," I said abruptly. My mom paused, arched one eyebrow, and set the bands on my nightstand. "Oh, Cassidy, I know. I figured that out watching you two in recovery.

Funny how often something she'd been so certain she needed turned out not to be a need at all, but a want--when the real 'need' was something else entirely. Something that could only be gained by giving, not by getting.

But don't forget, opinions are like assholes, everyone has one, and most of them are just full of shit." - Lacey

Do they miss me? Does it count if the person they miss isn’t actually me? ​​​

I’m guessing it has something to do with that paragraph-long text she sent me—the one I’ve literally read thirty times because it’s so freaking cute I can’t stand it.

Lucy, I want so much more with you...but I can't give you anything besides friendship right now.

here’s the thing about people you admire speaking into your life: sometimes you trust their opinion of yourself more than your own. But just because they say it, doesn’t make it true, and I’m done letting him tell me who I am.

When she finally found her way onto the Trace, the sun was rising and, with it, her spirits. The Natchez Trace Parkway, a two lane road slated, when finished to run from Nashville, Tennessee, to Natchez, Mississippi, had been the brainchild of the Ladies' Garden Clubs in the South. Besides preserving a unique part of the nations past,...the Trace would not be based on spectacular scenery but would conserve the natural and agricultural history of Mississippi.

I turn around and face my mom. “I’ve never asked too much of you, Mom, but today, I need you to run me over with your car.” She curls her lips inward, making a cooky smile, and pats the side of my arm. “Did someone make a bad decision last night on her date?

I meant that the hatred of that July day in Nashville was alive and well on that horrible day in Pittsburgh. People hate others so they strike like snakes. It’s all connected—we’re all connected, bumping around into each other, some of us good, some bad, most a mixture. Every thought acted upon has consequences. Every one.

Jessie is starting to make sense to me, and she’s only becoming more beautiful as she comes into focus.

What’s the point of having an incredible salary if you can’t spoil someone with it?

Oh, trust me, Wyatt’s not exempt. There’s a reason he never brings girls home. He did it once when he was nineteen. Poor girl spent the weekend being interrogated by my husband and then flew back to Nashville and never spoke to Wyatt again.

don’t think everyone is meant to have careers that change the world. Sometimes you’ve just gotta pay the bills and then clock out so you can get to the life you love the most, which, for me, is being with Levi.

But it’s not just Lucy’s skin, hair, and eyes that contribute to her beauty. It’s every smile, every laugh, every little thing she does for her son and did for me when I was sick. It’s all of it. I meant it when I said I thought Lucy was the complete package. She’s too good to be true.

CAPT. J. W. SIMMONS, master of the steamship Pensacola, had just as little regard for weather as the Louisiana’s Captain Halsey. He was a veteran of eight hundred trips across the Gulf and commanded a staunch and sturdy ship, a 1,069-ton steel-hulled screw-driven steam freighter built twelve years earlier in West Hartlepool, England, and now owned by the Louisville and Nashville Railroad Company. Friday morning the ship was docked at the north end of 34th Street, in the company of scores of other ships, including the big Mallory liner Alamo, at 2,237 tons, and the usual large complement of British ships, which on Friday included the Comino, Hilarius, Kendal Castle, Mexican, Norna, Red Cross, Taunton, and the stately Roma in from Boston with its Captain Storms. As the Pensacola’s twenty-one-man crew readied the ship for its voyage to the city of Pensacola on Florida’s Gulf Coast, two men came aboard as Captain Simmons’s personal guests: a harbor pilot named R. T. Carroll and Galveston’s Pilot Commissioner J. M. O. Menard, from one of the city’s oldest families. At

Broken people are like broken clay pots. They can be put back together. I know it will never be the same when the pieces are glued. There will be cracks. But those cracks, they add character. Tell of survival. Of strength, of character.

And it was hard to explain. That they didn't want to be a man, but that they had never felt quite right as a girl. That they only started to feel really okay when they understood they could be their own thing. That they could exist in a space that was all their own, that they could shift and adjust until it felt right. They had settled on nonbinary feeling right for them, even though they knew others like them had their own names that felt right to their own experiences. And that was comforting too. That each person could choose what brought them closer to belonging, the power in that. Knowing that one day, people might discover even better words for it. That there was only ever freedom in continuing to find new names for who we were, who we could be.

This is why I prefer reading to actually talking to people. Less chance of humiliating myself.

Are you away with the fairies?

You want fire and passion. You want pillow fights and prank wars. You want to be challenged, and fought with, and deeply wanted.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that in a room full of J.Crews, I’ll always be a Target. I love Target. Let’s see J.Crew try to sell delicious soft pretzels in their store.

And besides, everything happened the way it needed to. No sense looking back while you’re still moving forward.

Why did perfect feel broken?

Make a wish and it will be granted along with all the unintended consequences.

I love everything about you Kacey, because the best thing in life is finding someone who knows your flaws, mistakes, difficulties, and still think you are bad-ass and loves you.

...we're waiting until we can drink legally before we add in another.

I love you, Jayden Mitchell Sinclair, I do. But right now , I want to kill you. So just hold my hand and tel l'me I'm pretty as I push your kid out.

Are you ready for this thing called life? 'Cause I can't do it without you.

FEAR IS A REACTION YOU HAVE WHEN YOU’RE GETTING CLOSER TO THE TRUTH

you do. Jordie Thomas is not a take-home-to-Momma kind of man.” “No, he isn’t,” she agreed. “But he is a fuck-you-stupid kind of man.

Raspberry, strawberry, lemon and lime What do I care Blueberry, apple, cherry, pumpkin and plum Call me for dinner Honey, I'll be there

This chemistry between us? It wasn’t just explosive. It was real.

I don’t think everyone is meant to have careers that change the world. Sometimes you’ve just gotta pay the bills and then clock out so you can get to the life you love the most,

Oh heavens!” Henry says, sounding like a 1950s housewife who’s never heard a swear word.

An office lady in her clack clack heels walked me to my homeroom. And I'm thinking lady I hitchhiked to fucking Nashville. You think I can't walk down the hall by myself.

Maverick Simon was Hollywood and Nashville, while she was just a mechanic in a small town in Maine. It almost sounded like some hokey country song.

Being Jesus doesn't mean that I am always at the center, always doing something, always making something spectacular happen. Being Jesus simply means that I show up to be "part of" something. Maybe being Jesus isn't so much about making it happen as it is letting it happen.

Here’s the point. If I had waited until the songs were finished, this thing might never have happened. If I had merely tinkered with these songs for all the years it took to finally record them, chances are I would have moved on to other things and never given it a try. It wouldn’t have grown into what it was meant to be. You can think and plan and think some more, but none of that is half as important as doing something, however imperfect or incomplete it is. Intention trumps execution, remember? Sometimes you book the tour before the songs are written. Sometimes you stand at the altar and say “I do” without any clue how you and your wife are going to make it. Sometimes you move to Nashville with no money in the bank and no real prospects. Sometimes you start with nothing and hope it all works out. Not sometimes—every time. All you really have is your willingness to fail, coupled with the mountain of evidence that the Maker has never left nor forsaken you.

Wanted to say goodbye with a BJ but you were so out of it I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Call you when I land in Nashville. Blake’s on the couch if you need ’im. Jess gets in at eleven. Love you.

It’s been years since I’ve met a woman who genuinely blushes, and here she is, yanking down the hem of her cover-up and darting secret glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking.  I’m looking, though.

Stevie splits his time between Branson and Nashville. I think it's smart to divide time by location, rather than AM and PM, because that way you get more distance and are able to extend your life out further.

I exist on an imaginary tightrope and must watch every step, lest I fall into the cold, dark abyss. I live in constant fear of the future, in fear that the inevitable will take place,and I live in constant fear of the past, in fear that what has already happened will happen again. How can the present exist in such a world?

That each person could choose what brought them closest to belonging, the power in that. Knowing that one day, people might discover even better words for it. That there was only ever freedom in continuing to find new names for who we were, who we could be.

IT TAKES A certain amount of effort to be miserable and another kind of effort to be happy, and I was willing to do the work of happiness. I figured even if I couldn’t make Lucy deeply happy, I could very likely make her cheaply and immediately happy. I could provide the kind of happiness that would seem hollow if we had had the money or the time to stay in it too long. It was the same as carrying her. I couldn’t do it forever, but I could do it for a while. I booked Lucy a massage and had her eyelashes dyed. I took her for a pedicure. I bought her the best pâté I could find in Nashville along with Spaghetti-O’s and Hungry Jack biscuits and everything else I knew she liked. We went to a bad movie and then stayed for a second bad movie. I took her shopping and bought her whatever she wanted. And she was happy, and I was happy.

I just want my life to be big, you know?” Dahlia’s brown eyes were unfocused. “Like…like the way your favorite song feels, when you’re sixteen. I want my life to feel like that. I want to feel big. I want to do messy, wild things, things I’ll remember, things that are interesting.

After her mother died and Adrienne and her father took up with wanderlust, Adrienne became exposed to new foods. For two years they lived in Maine, where in the summertime they ate lobster and white corn and small wild blueberries. They moved to Iowa for Adrienne's senior year of high school and they ate pork tenderloin fixed seventeen different ways. Adrienne did her first two years of college at Indiana University in Bloomington, where she lived above a Mexican cantina, which inspired a love of tamales and anything doused with habanero sauce. Then she transferred to Vanderbilt in Nashville, where she ate the best fried chicken she'd ever had in her life. And so on, and so on. Pad thai in Bangkok, stone crabs in Palm Beach, buffalo meat in Aspen. As she sat listening to Thatcher, she realized that though she knew nothing about restaurants, at least she knew something about food.

I jolted from the shocking, acute pleasure. I loved it when a guy went down on me, but this? It was insanity, and it’d never felt like this before. Each lush stroke of his tongue caused static in my body. It was so good, it short-circuited my brain, and my body didn’t know how to handle the overload.

maybe it’s working because I’m an author, and maybe it’s working because Karen works like life depends on this bookstore, or because we have a particularly brilliant staff, or because Nashville is a city that is particularly sympathetic to all things independent. Maybe we just got lucky. But my luck has made me believe that changing the course of the corporate world is possible. Amazon doesn’t get to make all the decisions; the people can make them by how and where they spend their money. If what a bookstore offers matters to you, then shop at a bookstore. If you feel that the experience of reading a book is valuable, then read the book. This is how we change the world: we grab hold of it. We change ourselves.

Ha ha, why yes, Ethan, I am sophisticated and definitely did not eat a string cheese and fruit snacks on the way over here.

He wasn’t wrong. I was a good girl, but sometimes, especially when I thought about him, all I wanted to be was bad.

What does it matter what other people think when we are so happy together?

Letting her head hang, all she could do was think what a freaking mess she had gotten herself into. And not even Ben & Jerry's could get her out of this.

But I didn't even make you work for it. I just jumped you like a cat in heat.

Guess our sex is hot, we start fires.

But remember, Kacey has a temper and she's crazy protective of you so if you need bail money, let me know.

I won't sugarcoat shit. You're tiptoeing on the line between batshit crazy and sane.

Payback's a bitch, but thankfully those tissues are only full of snot and tears instead of dead little sperms.

You give me butterflies when I thing about you

She needs Jesus and as ass-whooping!

Jayden cried out, "Shit, are you pissing on me?" With her eyes wide, she shook her head. "No, I think my water broke.

I love you too, now let's make this birth our bitch.

I don't think I can give up on Reese. I 'or something' her.

She wanted to be mad tat e saw through her, but his mouth could honestly turn a nun into a sinner.

So you two are together?" "Nope, just friends...with incredible benefits. Supergreat ones. Mind-blowing ones.

I think my work here is done. Breakfast and multiple orgasms...You won't get that at your favorite diner.

Wen he pulled away e smiled as he said, "I'm on a mission to make you like hockey more than baseball." "Unless you are wearing tight baseball pants, you aren't keeping my attention.

It is only when we go outside that comfort zone, and subject ourselves to the discomfort of considering thoughts we don’t agree with, that we can make an informed judgment on any matter.

Phillip has enough to worry about. He doesn't have time to have his heart broken by my man-eating twin," Piper teased. Reese faked a hurt look as she said, "Hey, I make sure they're satisfied before I feed!

Southern food has been riding a long wave of popularity that has elevated cooking in Southern cities. But it has also led to a formulaic culinary canon laden with house-cured pork products, bespoke grits and lots of food served in Mason jars. The cooks who defined the style were mostly men in tourist-heavy towns like Atlanta, Nashville and Charleston, S.C. Chefs who didn’t cook like that risked losing business.

Well, my beautiful girlfriend, you are about to be one lucky lady." She beamed. "Ryan Reynolds wants to make a baby with me?" He paused and then shook his head. "What the fuck? You dig Deadpool?" She nodded. "Hell yeah, I do, he's sexy." "I'm naked here, you just took advantage of me, and you are calling some other dude sexy?" She smiled. "Yes, because I love you and find you sexy. But that doesn't matter, carry on,

We gotta get out of here before I set up a tent in here and never leave. You don't know how many guys I saw with tattoos and One Direction hair as I walked in here. Trouble. They are all trouble. Stay away Claire!

Is she worth it though?" he asked and she shrugged. "That's up to you to decide. Either way, I support you, love you, and will stand beside you," she whispered against his lips. "And when you're ready, I'll Spartan kick her in the face.

We are Nasvillians now. We have to be classy Southern bitches." Kacey glared as she swigged her tea. "Classy girls don't say classy bitches." "This one does," Lacey said as she took a sip of her tea with her pinky up just to show she meant what she said.

I can feel his breath on my cheekbone as he leans in to shave me carefully. The water is warm and so is his touch. Getting a shave at the barber shop used to be something dudes did in ye olden days, but now I know the process is weirdly intimate. My face is so sensitive to Wes’s touch. I enjoy the way his free hand cups my jaw, his thumb stroking over my cheek to check his work. When he switches sides, I get a kiss on the back of my neck. “I’m supposed to go to Nashville in the morning,” he says as two fingers tap beneath my chin. “Lift.

Dad] would take a McDonald’s straw, cut it, put it in each nostril and [snort] just about every fifteen minutes for three or four days at a time,” Shooter recalled. Seeing their only child together sticking a used one up his nose became both the proverbial and literal last straw for Jessi Colter.4

You steamrolled your way into my life and reminded me how good it feels to let go a little…to fight, to play, to laugh. I don’t think I’d really done any of that since I started med school. My life became very objective-based, and then I met you and…” “And I taught you the meaning of life?” “You snuck your underwear into my laundry just to make me mad. And you eat a million milligrams of sodium every day. And you wanted the Frosty mug just as much as I did.” A laugh spills from my mouth. “None of that sounds like a lesson you’ve learned.” “Exactly. You don’t teach me lessons—you help me rest.

Like a patchwork quilt, I realize now that it’s the culmination of small beautiful moments that makes the quilt of our lives so beautiful. And even though we haven’t had as much time to create the fabric for the squares of ours, I know without a doubt that I will leave behind an entire quilt of beautiful moments.

They ave a hockey team, Phillip," Claire said as she unlocked her door and pushed it open. "That's good. Stay away from the players," he mumbled. Reese rolled her eyes as she followed them in. "But I like hockey players," Claire pouted playfully. "Yeah, well, unless you want them to die, stay away. Boys are off-limits.

Think of Chicago as a piece of music, perhaps,” he continued. “In it you can hear the thousands of years of people living here and fishing and hunting, and then bullets and axes, and the whine of machinery, and the bellowing of cattle, and the shriek of railroads, and the thud of fists and staves and crowbars, and a hundred languages, a thousand dialects. And the murmur of the lake like a basso undertone. Ships and storms, snow and fire. To the north the vast dark forests, and everywhere else around the city rolling fields of farms, and all roads leading to Chicago, which rises from the plains like Oz, glowing with light and fire at night, drawing people to it from around the world. A roaring city, gunfire and applause and thunder. Gleaming but made of bone and stone. Bitter cold and melting hot and clotheslines hung in the alleys and porches like the webbing of countless spiders. A city without illusions but with vaulting imaginations and expectations. A city of burning energies on the shore of a huge northern sea. An American city, with all the violence and humor and grace and greed of this particular powerful adolescent country. Perhaps the American city—no other city in the nation is as big and central and grown up from the very soil. Chicago was never ruled by Spain or England or France or Russia or Texas, it shares no ocean with other countries, it is no mere regional captain, like Cincinnati or Nashville; it is itself, all brawn and greed and song, brilliant and venal, almost a small nation, sprawling and vulgar and foul and beautiful, cold and cruel and wonderful. Its music is the blues, of course. Sad and uplifting at once, elevating and haunting at the same time. You sing so that you do not weep. You have no choice but to sing. So you raise up your voice and sing of love and woe, and soon another voice joins in, and you sing together, for a while, for a time, perhaps a brief time, but perhaps not.…

Nashville was a prize. Johnston had left in a hurry, abandoning huge quantities of supplies — half a million pounds of bacon, much bread and flour, and bales of new tents, the latter greatly welcomed by the Federals, who had left their own tents far behind them. The Federals were having their first experience in occupying a Confederate capital, and they found numerous timid citizens who were ready to turn their coats and cuddle up to the invaders: dignified gentlemen who called on generals to explain that they personally had always been Union men, to identify leading Rebels in the community, to tell where Confederate supplies had been hidden, and in general to make themselves useful.

Jordie and I tried to have sex in the kitchen and almost caught it on fir. I was cleaning smoke and burned shit off my brand-new stove all afternoon." Lacey's face twisted in confusion and she sputtered with laughter. "Do I even want to know how this happened?" Kacey grinned. "He threw my shirt on the stove, and I had forgotten to shut it off. Boom! Flames, fire

We're done? You don't want to ask me anything else?" "No." "Oh, darn, I enjoy this so much<" Vaughn said before walking away like he hadn't just ruined the interview. Bursting at the seams, Brie whipped around to another person in a suit. "Doesn't he know that was live? He can't do that! He ruins it every single time. I refuse to interview him anymore. He wasn't even wearing pants!

Pattie helped me understand that you can provide someone with food and shelter, train them in a skill for employment, even offer professional treatment for an addictions, but these acts don't necessarily reach down to that place inside a person where fear, shame, guilt, hurt, and hopelessness wreak havoc. Pattie's greatest need was to be seen, and then to be loved, accepted and validated.

The next morning there was time before the funeral to wander around my sister’s neighborhood, the same neighborhood we moved to when I was in eighth grade and she was in second, the same neighborhood where our father had lived as an even younger child. I found the spot at the end of the road where rusted tracks emerged from the weeds, the exact place where my father had waited for his own father to step off the trolley after work. I stopped at the bridge over the creek where my eighth-grade boyfriend first held my hand. I named to myself all the neighbors who had once lived on our street, every one of them gone now, as a scent drifted on the air that I couldn’t place. Then, finally: gardenia! It blooms in profusion in Birmingham but not at all in Nashville, where I have lived for decades.

You're next Claire." She laughed. "Nope, not ready. See, we know about this thing called birth control, and we use it," she teased, and everyone laughed. "Hey, I was on it!" Baylor called to her as Claire grinned back at her. "That's what they all say." "Not me. I wasn't, and we had faulty condoms," Avery said with a snort, which sent everyone into fits of laughter. "But I wouldn't change a thing.

His hand felt odd against her swollen belly. She started to speak at the same moment that the baby suddenly moved. Tate’s hand jerked back as if it had been stung. He stared at her stomach with pure horror as it fluttered again. She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Is that…normal?” he wanted to know. “It’s a baby,” she said softly. “They move around. He kicks a little. Not much, just yet, but as he grows, he’ll get stronger.” “I never realized…” He drew in a long breath and put his hand back against her body. “Cecily, does it hurt you when he…” He hesitated. His black, stunned eyes met hers. “He?” She nodded. “They can tell, so soon?” “Yes,” she said simply. “They did an ultrasound.” His fingers became caressing. A son. He was going to have a son. He swallowed. It was a shock. He hadn’t thought past her pregnancy, but now he realized that there was going to be a miniature version of himself and Cecily, a child who would embody the traits of all his ancestors. All his ancestors. It made him feel humble. “How did you find me?” she asked. He glared into her eyes. “Not with any help from you, let me tell you! It took me forever to track down the driver who brought you to Nashville. He was off on extended sick leave, and it wasn’t until this week that anybody remembered he’d worked that route before Christmas.” She averted her eyes. “I didn’t want to be found.” “So I noticed. But you have been, and you’re damned well coming home,” he said furiously. “I’m damned if I’m going to leave you here at the mercy of people who go nuts over an inch of snow!” She sat up, displacing his hand, noticed that she was too close to him for comfort, swung her legs off the sofa and got up. “I’m not going as far as the mailbox with you!” she told him flatly. “I’ve made a new life for myself here, and I’m staying!” “That’s what you think.” He got up, too, and went toward the bedroom. He found her suitcase minutes later, threw it open on the bed and started filling it. “I’m not going with you,” she told him flatly. “You can pack. You can even take the suitcase and all my clothes. But I’m not leaving. This is my life now. You have no place in it!” He whirled. He was furious. “You’re carrying my child!” The sight of him was killing her. She loved him, wanted him, needed him, but he was here only out of a sense of duty, maybe even out of guilt. She knew he didn’t want ties or commitments; he’d said so often enough. He didn’t love her, either, and that was the coldest knowledge of all. “Colby asked me to marry him for the baby’s sake,” she said bitterly. “Maybe I should have.” “Over my dead body,” he assured her.

Ah, the trainer with the hands," one of them said. She was very pretty, thick dark hair and even darker eyes. She had a nice body, but it was easy to see she had been having babies. "Lucas talks about you fondly." Kacey smiled. "Yeah, his shoulder's been giving him shit lately," she said, figuring this must be Fallon, Lucas's wife. "Yeah, and if you didn't keep him from birching about it, I might have to try and kick your ass. But seeing that he is happy, and you are also a good six inches taller than me and have abs and arms that could squash small children, I'm gonna just say, hey! It's nice to meet you!" she said and everyone laughed as they shook hands.

I have salt and sugar at home, but I'm paying eighty bucks to have ya'll rub it on my feet. If I want to yell at my sister-in-law about that fact that I just found out I am pregnant, and how my boyfriend, the recovering alcoholic, is still fragile and I don't know if he'll make it, whether I'm going to miscarry like I did before, and a whole other list of shit, like, hell, I don't know, what I'm going to be when I grow up, then I will! And maybe, just maybe, for the eighty bucks you're charging me, I can yell a bit." The woman only blinked as Lacey snickered beside her. "Keep it down and congratulations." "Thanks, and I'll try," Kacey said as the woman walked away. She then turned to Lacey, who was fully laughing at this point. "Really> This is not funny." "Oh, I'm cracking up because if you're already this emotional and bitchy, God help us all once you reach the third Trimester.