Patterson Best Quotes

What did that stupid deserting crap-bag ex-boyfriend, ex-best friend with the most perfect stupid hair do? He DIDN'T delete his crap off the desktop before he fled my life and left me all alone. That's what he did.

Sometimes the best goal you can set is just to get out of bed every day. If you can succeed at this, then other things become possible.

The guys were totally skuzzy, grinning horribly, showing holes where teeth should be. “Boys, God doesn’t like you,” Fang intoned behind them. Whaaat? I thought, dumbfounded. “Wha!” they said, whirling. At that moment, Fang snapped out his huge wings and shone the penlight under his chin so it raked his cheekbones and eyes. My mouth dropped open. He looked like the angel of death. His dark wings filled the hallway almost to the ceiling, and he moved them up and down. “God doesn’t like bad people,” he said, using a really weird, deep voice. “What the heck?” one of the squatters murmured shallowly, his mouth slack, his eyes bugging out of his head. I whipped my own wings open. Fun, anyway. “This was a test,” I said, using my best spooky voice. “And guess what? You both failed.” The bums stopped dead, looks of horror and amazement on their faces. Then Fang growled, “Rowr!” He stepped forward, sweeping his wings up and down: the avenging demon. I almost cracked up. “Rowr!” I said myself, shaking my wings out. “Ahhhhh!” the guys yelled, backpedaling fast. Unfortunately, they were standing at the top of the staircase. They fell awkwardly, trying to grab each other, and rolled down two flights like lumpy bags of potatoes, shrieking the whole way. Fang and I slapped each other a quick high five—and we were out of there, jack.

You see, one of the best things about reading is that you'll always have something to think about when you're not reading.

I won’t lie to you—it was hilarious. Yes, we were in trouble, yes, this was a disaster, and so one and so forth, but I have to say, seeing those upturned faces, the looks, was bout the best thing that happened to us since we’d come to New York.

People who are skilled at dialogue do their best to make it safe for everyone to add their meaning to the shared pool--even ideas that at first glance appear controversial, wrong, or at odds with their own beliefs. Now, obviously they don't agree with every idea; they simply do their best to ensure that all ideas find their way into the open.

You're my best friend, my first and only love, and the most beautiful girl I've ever seen

It's okay, Ig." said Fang. "Just give it your best shot." Sometimes the Fangster is incredibly supportive, just not with me.

living life was like putting the beach into a jar. The point wasn’t to fit everything in; it was to attend to the most important things first—the big, beautiful rocks—the most valuable people and experiences—and fit the lesser things in around them. Otherwise, the best things might get left out

And now I was trying to brush my hair,you know,when I thought about it,and looking at myself in mirrors,wondering if I was pretty.Pretty! A year ago,when my haair got in my eyes I hacked it off with a knife.The only thing important about my clothes was whether they were to stiff to move fast in battle. And Fang had been my best friend and an excellent fighter.

If you're not reading - with your heart as well as your brain - you will be one stupid grown up. Even worst, you'll be missing out on one of the best experiences you can possibly have. Nowhere will you meet more interesting people than in books.

Dear Max - You looked so beautiful today. I'm going to remember what you looked like forever. ... And I hope you remember me the same way - clean, ha-ha. I'm glad our last time together was happy. But I'm leaving tonight, leaving the flock, and this time it's for good. I don't know if I'll ever see any of you again. The thing is, Max, that everyone is a little bit right. Added up all together, it makes this one big right. Dylan's a little bit right about how my being here might be putting the rest of you in danger. The threat might have been just about Dr. Hans, but we don't know that for sure. Angel is a little bit right about how splitting up the flock will help all of us survive. And the rest of the flock is a little bit right about how when you and I are together, we're focused on each other - we can't help it. The thing is, Maximum, I love you. I can't help but be focused on you when we're together. If you're in the room, I want to be next to you. If you're gone, I think about you. You're the one who I want to talk to. In a fight, I want you at my back. When we're together, the sun is shining. When we're apart, everything is in shades of gray. I hope you'll forgive me someday for turning our worlds into shades of gray - at least for a while. ... You're not at your best when you're focused on me. I mean, you're at your best Maxness, but not your best leaderness. I mostly need Maxness. The flock mostly needs leaderness. And Angel, if you're listening to this, it ain't you, sweetie. Not yet. ... At least for a couple more years, the flock needs a leader to survive, no matter how capable everyone thinks he or she is. The truth is that they do need a leader, and the truth is that you are the best leader. It's one of the things I love about you. But the more I thought about it, the more sure I got that this is the right thing to do. Maybe not for you, or for me, but for all of us together, our flock. Please don't try to find me. This is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, besides wearing that suit today, and seeing you again will only make it harder. You'd ask me to come back, and I would, because I can't say no to you. But all the same problems would still be there, and I'd end up leaving again, and then we'd have to go through this all over again. Please make us only go through this once. ... I love you. I love your smile, your snarl, your grin, your face when you're sleeping. I love your hair streaming out behind you as we fly, with the sunlight making it shine, if it doesn't have too much mud or blood in it. I love seeing your wings spreading out, white and brown and tan and speckled, and the tiny, downy feathers right at the top of your shoulders. I love your eyes, whether they're cold or calculating or suspicious or laughing or warm, like when you look at me. ... You're the best warrior I know, the best leader. You're the most comforting mom we've ever had. You're the biggest goofball, the worst driver, and a truly lousy cook. You've kept us safe and provided for us, in good times and bad. You're my best friend, my first and only love, and the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, with wings or without. ... Tell you what, sweetie: If in twenty years we haven't expired yet, and the world is still more or less in one piece, I'll meet you at the top of that cliff where we first met the hawks and learned to fly with them. You know the one. Twenty years from today, if I'm alive, I'll be there, waiting for you. You can bet on it. Good-bye, my love. Fang P.S. Tell everyone I sure will miss them

One of the best ways to persuade others is with your ears—by listening to them. —DEAN RUSK

Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret. —AMBROSE BIERCE

Max—you have a bigger mission than finding the flock's parents. Focus on helping the whole world, not just your friends. I held my wings steady, coasting for a long, long way on a warm updraft. It was like floating on a cloud, the best feeling you can imagine. I wish you could try it with me. Maybe next time. You know, Voice, I thought finally, my friends are my world.

The eight-year-old beat your best cadet in hand-to-hand combat?” “So did the six-year-old girl, ma’am. Actually, she beat the instructor also.

I, Alex Cross do solemnly promise-to all those present at this birthday party- to do my best to balance my life at home with my work,life,and not to go over to the dark side ever again.

He rolled his eyes and took my hand. His hand was hard and calloused, tough with muscle and old scars. The night settled around us like a blanket. I could hear the water lapping against the dock. We were totally alone. “You’re . . . ,” he began, and I waited, heart throbbing in my throat. “Such a pain,” he concluded. “What?” I asked, just as his head swooped in and his mouth touched mine. I tried to speak, but one of Fang’s hands held the back of my head, and he kept his lips pressed against me, kissing me softly but with a Fanglike determination. Oh, jeez, I thought distractedly. Jeez, this is Fang, and me, and . . . Fang tilted his head to kiss me more deeply, and I felt totally lightheaded. Then I remembered to breathe through my nose, and the fog cleared a tiny bit. Somehow we were pressed together, Fang’s arms around me now, sliding under my wings, his hands flat against my back. It was incredible. I loved it. I loved him. It was a total disaster. Gasping, I pulled back. “I, uh—,” I began oh so coherently, and then I jumped up, almost knocking him over, and raced down the dock. I took off, flying fast, like a rocket.

The best education you will ever get is traveling. Nothing teaches you more than exploring the world and accumulating experiences.

I love you. I love your smile, your snarl, your grin, your face when you’re sleeping. I love your hair streaming out behind you as we fly, with the sunlight making it shine, if it doesn’t have too much mud or blood in it. I love seeing your wings spreading out, white and brown and tan and speckled, and the tiny, downy feathers right at the top of your shoulders. I love your eyes, whether they’re cold or calculating or suspicious or laughing or warm, like when you look at me. You’re the best warrior I know, the best leader. You’re the most comforting mom we’ve ever had. You’re the biggest goof ball, the worst driver, and a tr uly lousy cook. You’ve kept us safe and provided for us, in good times and bad. You’re my best friend, my first and only love, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, with wings or without.

I knew how good love could be -- I knew it was the best thing I'd ever done in my life -- and yet here I was alone. I was taking chances with my life. I kept telling everybody that I was all right, but I wasn't.

Fang is not the huggiest person in the world—he turns into an unbending statue, and you just have to do the best you can. Which

Most people go out every day who wear a badge and they really try to do the best they can and try to help as many people as possible.

I’m a patriot with every fiber of my being. A patriot does what is best for his country, not what is best for its leader.

But to be the best, to reach the pinnacle, requires self-denial, sacrifice, discipline, humility, and preparation. You have to hurt yourself, scold yourself, analyze yourself, recognize your weaknesses at the same time try to eliminate them. And those weaknesses you can't eliminate must be minimized. You must create a plan that highlights your strengths and hides your flaws. You have to do more than simply want to win. Everybody wants to win, for goodness' sake. But precious few of us are willing to prepare to win. You must do things that are difficult, unpleasant, painful.

The happily ever after depends on what you put into it. The hard work, the listening instead of talking, the laughing instead of crying, the sticking it out instead of running away, the knowing that sometimes silence is best but having her wrapped in your arms can still solve a lot of problems. So, you can have your romance novels while I have my King and Follett and Patterson because I don’t want to read about having that kind of love someday. I’d rather be over here trying to take a chance at it in real life.

Libraries level the playing field. They’re free and open to the public. All are welcome. Our doors are open. Come in and learn to become your best self. Follow your dreams and reach your true potential. Let your reach exceed your grasp. Whatever book you want to read, it’s free on the honor system. It’s hard to imagine anywhere else in our society so devoted to the concept of everyone being completely equal.

And what is it about you and romance novels? Is it the happily ever after? Is it the man who's too good to be true? Because I assure you, we all have our flaws, even the fictional ones. But the happily ever after depends on what you put into it. The hard work, the listening instead of talking, the laughing instead of crying, the sticking it out instead of running away, the knowing that sometimes silence is best but having her wrapped in your arms can still solve a lot of problems. So, you can have you romance novels while I have my King and Follett and Patterson because I don't want to read about having that kind of love someday. I'd rather be over here trying to take a chance at it in real life.

Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.

You can't bring the dead back. You can't even make sense of why things happen. All you can do is the best you can to let the living believe their souls are at peace.

Revenge is a dish best served cold. I have to admit, it is a tasty dish. Play Hard or Go Home GROWING UP, I had zero interest in being a writer.

Please don't shut out love- it's the best thing about life

Robinson sat up and peered out at the lawn. "I had no idea you were so deprived. They're the best bugs in the world because they can light up their butts. It's how they find mates

If there's a God, he knows I'm doing the best I can.

Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.

No, what’s the best way to catch a fish?” Angel asked again. Oh. “I don’t know?” I said warily. “Have someone throw it to you!” Angel laughed, I groaned, and, next to me, Total chuckled.

I hugged everyone, sat down beside Cindy Thomas and Yuki Castellano, Claire’s best girlfriends and mine, the four of us making up the entire membership of what we half jokingly call the “Women’s Murder Club.

My life in politics has taught me that the only thing more difficult than fighting against our enemies is taking questions from my friends.” Amid knowing chuckles, he promised, “Nonetheless, I shall do my best.

Languor is underrated. It is not possible to be immobile in modern society except by dint of constant effort. Holding on tightly to the riverbank and fighting the current is not languor. Nobody likes that. But bone-lazy idleness hours and hours spent staring at the sky and remembering books and birthdays and great kisses: this is a pure pleasure that eludes the productive in all their confident superiority. Languor s sunny and hot. It is at home near the sea and is best appreciated in environments of beauty and limited promise. It contains within it the idea of boredom but is also colored by idle fancy and the understanding that some things proceed best with limited attention.

Bennett clan—Chrissy, three; Shawna, four; Trent, five; twins Fiona and Bridget, seven; Eddie, eight; Ricky, nine; Jane, ten; Brian, eleven; and Juliana, twelve—all dressed in their Sunday best and walking in size order behind me, could do the trick.

Her father was right. Her poems are powerful. They are not Sylvia Plath, but there was only one Sylvia Plath. 'The thing was,' said Frieda, 'if I'm lying on my death bed, who would I have pleased by not living how I need to live, in order to have a happy, or reasonable, or successful, or productive, or even a completely non-successful, but, you know, quite muddling-along-in-an-OK-fashion life? It's up to us how we get from A to B to C to D. I might never light up the sky. None of us might. It doesn't matter. What matters is: did you do the best you could with the tools you had at hand?

When she was free, the whale didn’t rush out to sea. Instead, she swam around and around her rescuers in joyous circles. The whale came up to each and every diver one at a time. She nudged them, pushed them gently -– maybe as her way of thanking them. What else could it have been? Several of the rescuers wept and later said it was the most incredibly beautiful moment of their lives. They said they would never be the same after the experience. And that is the best story I’ve heard to explain how it feels when you do a good deed and help somebody. You’ll never be the same after the experience.

WHEN IT’S ALL OVER, there’s one final talk I want to make—to the press. When they gather in front of me, it’s hard to forget that nearly all of them had considered me a hoax. They start to shoot questions at me, but I cut them off: “Hold it! Hold it!” I say. “You’ve all had a chance to say what you thought before the fight. Now it’s my turn. You all said Sonny Liston would kill me. You said he was better than Jack Johnson or Jack Dempsey, even Joe Louis, and you ranked them the best heavyweights of all time. You kept writing how Liston whipped Floyd Patterson twice, and when I told you I would get Liston in eight, you wouldn’t believe it. Now I want all of you to tell the whole world while all the cameras are on us, tell the world that I’m The Greatest.” There’s a silence. “Who’s The Greatest?” I ask them. Nobody answers. They look down at their pads and microphones. “Who’s The Greatest?” I say again. They look up with solemn faces, but the room is still silent. “For the LAST TIME!” I shout. “All the eyes of the world on us. You just a bunch of hypocrites. I told you I was gonna get Liston and I got him. All the gamblers had me booked eight-to-one underdog. I proved all of you wrong. I shook up the world! Tell me who’s The Greatest! WHO IS THE GREATEST?” They hesitate for a minute, and finally in a dull tone they all answer, “You are.” •

Here’s the best I’ve come up with about recovering from the death of somebody we love. It goes like this. When we’re little, maybe one or so, we learn how to walk. Somehow we figure out how to get up on our two feet and take a scary step forward. Maybe we fall down. But we get up again. We take another step. We move forward. We move on. We just don’t forget.

Here’s the best I’ve come up with about recovering from the death of somebody we love. It goes like this. When we were little, maybe one or so, we learn how to walk. Somehow we figure out how to get up on our two feet and take a scary step forward. Maybe we fall down. But we get up again. We take another step. We move forward. We move on. We just don’t forget.

I'm Dr. Ethan Kane, director of the Hauer Institute. My senior medical staff joins me in welcoming all of you to Maryland and to Liberty General Hospital. Think of it! You've been chosen to make an extraordinary journey with us. You'll be making medical history, making some very good money as well, and this will be the best experience you've ever had. I guarantee it!

We kissed and pressed against each other and it seemed as if we were merging, getting closer and closer. I loved the touch of her mouth against mine, the feel of her body, the way we fit. We were both strong, and yet we could be gentle together. I passionately believe in soul mates. I guess I always have. The best thing I had ever done in my life was to be in love. I missed it and was finally ready to love again.

People who are gifted at dialogue keep a constant vigil on safety. They pay attention to the content, and they watch for signs that people are becoming fearful. When friends, loved ones, or colleagues move away from healthy dialogue—by either forcing their opinions into the pool or purposely keeping their ideas out of the pool—the best at dialogue immediately turn their attention to why others might not feel safe.

Okay, now. In the spirit of open minds — try to walk in somebody else's shoes at least once a day. Maybe even twice a day. What's it like for your poor teachers to have to put up with you rowdy, ill-tempered boys and girls? Just kidding. You're all very nice! What's it like for the other kids in your class? I'm talking about every single kid in this school! What is school like for them? Please walk in their shoes. Okay, and what's it like for your moms and dads? They think about you all the time. Especially your moms. Now it's time to think about them. Another thing. This is kind of earth-shakingly important. If you're a bully — stop it right now! Being a bully could mean you have stuff to work out at home. So try your best to work it out at home.

his legacy, if there is one, is that I try to do my best to see people whole, for who they are and what they've been through. especially those who matters to me

The significance of LBJ's personal traits accounted for the growing belief, especially by anti-war activists, that Vietnam was "Johnson's War." His critics are correct in pointing to the role of these traits and in arguing that Johnson, commander-in-chief until 1969, possessed the ultimate power to stem the tide of escalation. He was the last, best, and only chance for the United States to pull itself out of the quagmire.

Allison Prouty, who raises her hand for everything, helped give out the scripts while Donatello told us what parts we each had. When she got to me, she said, “Rafe, I think you’d make a fine Paris,” and everyone in the room started laughing, right at me. “Paris?” I asked. “Why do I have to read a girl’s part?” “Paris is a boy,” Donatello told me. “He’s one of Lord Capulet’s best men.” “Yeah, well, he probably still wears tights,” I said, but Donatello ignored me. “Listen to the language as we read through,” she told everyone. “Notice how every line has ten syllables. Notice the subtle rhyming. That’s not easy to do. Nobody wrote like Shakespeare. Nobody!” And I thought—hmmmm. Idea in progress, please stand by. “Let’s begin,” Donatello said. “‘Act One, Scene One.’ ” It turned out that this Paris guy (he really was a guy) doesn’t come in until page 12. That was good. It gave me time to work on my idea. Donatello probably thought I was taking notes like Jeanne Galletta and the other brainiacs, but I was actually hot on the trail of those 30,000 points. Ten syllables per line? Check! Rhyming? Check! By the time we got to my part, there were only a couple

You know,” Melanie says, “most of the time things turn out well.” “You’re wrong. Most of the time things do not turn out well, and when they do, it’s dangerous to expect that to last.

I may not know who I am, but I know who I’m not.

The strangest thing is driving on smooth roads. No one passes and nothing moves.

Yeah. Sure,” I say, ’cause I like that she sees the best in folk, and ’cause I like her.

In other words, it was the one place on earth where she was required by law to stay away from me.

the Babysitters’ Club

Maggie and I were delighted. It was now Jett's turn to go to the dark side. "I've never seen such a bunch of doom cookies," she said, wiping down the tables. "What?" "Doom cookies. You know, people who pretend to be something they're not, like girls in my class who pretend to be bad-ass but go home and read The Little House on the Prairie in their Disney princess bedrooms." "Who were the Pie Night people pretending to be? I don't quite follow." "They're pretending to be bad-ass pie bakers," Jett trilled in a church-lady falsetto, " 'Oh, leaf lard is the best.' 'No, I swear by a mixture of Crisco and butter.' When was the last time they actually baked a pie? If they did, they wouldn't be gorging themselves here on Pie Night. They probably don't even own a rolling pin." Jett sniffed. And then she added, diplomatically, "But your pie was good.

It’s our dogmatic conviction that “if we could just fix those losers, all would go better” that keeps us from taking action that could lead to dialogue and progress. Which is why it’s no surprise that those who are best at dialogue tend to turn this logic around. They believe the best way to work on “us” is to start with “me.

You should never be shamed by them. Hold your head high for the woman you are. Innuendo, supposition and accusations of others have no role in your life. Anger, hatred and bitterness are lethal poisons. They cause a slow, painful emotional death that only you suffer. Self-destruction will never defeat an enemy or create justice. Be prepared to live with the consequences of your actions. If you will not be proud of an act, don’t commit it. In times of struggle, always remember that when the pupil is ready, the teacher will appear. You will always have help should you need it. Words can start wars, so be careful what you say and whom you say it to. Again, if you are afraid to own those words in a public forum, they are best never said. Remember these things and you will have a safe, fulfilling and satisfying life. Be true to yourself, my darling Eliza. Let each step bring you closer to your ultimate destination.

She gave us her best advice on aging: “If you can’t recall it, forget it.

a Supreme Court which is careless of the law can diminish respect for law. But there are clearly times when what might have been acceptable to Thomas Jefferson becomes unacceptable to us, and whether in 1954 Jefferson might have made Sally Hemings drink at the water fountain marked ‘Coloreds Only’ becomes irrelevant. At best.

men with guns stole our future by killing the best of our leaders, again and again—in one single tragic year, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. And day after day, death upon death, they steal our dreams by killing the people we love.

Let me strive, every moment of my life, to make myself better and better, to the best of my ability, so that all may profit by it. Let me think of the right, and lend all my assistance to those who need it, with no regard for anything but justice. Let me take what comes with a smile, without loss of courage. Let me be considerate of my country, of my fellow citizens and my associates in everything I say and do. Let me do right to all, and wrong to no man.

None of the terrible things that happen are a surprise to God. He knows what the day will bring, and I know He will test me. My compassion, sympathy, and empathy are gifts from God, and knowing I’ve done my very best to do His work helps.

Industry buzz had it that her book could hit number one on the New York Times Best Seller list. If that came to pass, it would be an honor and a miracle, but she wasn’t feeling the buzz, not even close. In the course of writing Evan Burke’s authorized biography, she’d been repeatedly shocked by Burke’s ruthlessness, the pleasure he took in killing. Unable to wall herself off from the sickening details of his crimes, Cindy had come to know Evan Burke too well. And that knowledge had changed her.

Don’t dismiss the legitimate emotional attraction between readers and literature, Paul.

Search for the Elusive And The best at dialogue refuse Fool’s Choices by setting up new choices. They present themselves with tougher questions—questions that turn the either/or choice into a search for the all-important and ever-elusive and. (It is an endangered species, you know.) Here’s how this works.

suspected he was a bleeding-heart lib, and he probably thought I was a right-wing warmonger. But since we never knew for sure how the other felt, we generally got along. I

At my best, I could be worse Than I had been the day before; Breaking hearts and losing lovers— I was closing every door. So, I guess I want to ask you What the hell you want me for? —Brik

People who are skilled at dialogue do their best to make it safe for everyone to add their meaning to the shared pool—even ideas that at first glance appear controversial, wrong, or at odds with their own beliefs. Now, obviously, they don’t agree with every idea; they simply do their best to ensure that all ideas find their way into the open.

down with Bart for a few hours and sleep as best I could. Chapter 12 I was as tired as I could ever remember being as I pulled the station wagon up the narrow driveway and came to a stop twenty-five feet from my front door. I liked my simple house with two bedrooms and an attic a hobbit couldn’t fit in. My front porch light was on a timer and illuminated the pathway, but the inside was pitch-black. That wasn’t good. I always left one light on in my kitchen. Normally, I could see it through the front window, and it cast a little light across the whole house. I didn’t want Bart walking into a wall in the dark. Someone had turned it off. The only defense I had was my Navy knife, which I dug out of my front pocket and flipped open. I use it as a tool, but its original purpose was as a weapon. The door was still locked, and I wondered if

Thank you, Dr. Walker,” she said, standing. “I—I appreciate what you’ve done. I’m sure it will heal up nicely now.” She’d have to return another day to see about the curtains and the wagon. Right now she wanted nothing more than to escape his gaze and that of the Pattersons and go back to the cottage. She’d doubted he’d accept payment for his impromptu doctoring, but perhaps she could bring him a cake by way of thanks. “It’s a blessing he was there,” Mrs. Patterson murmured in agreement. “Oh, I’m not done, Miss Matthews. That’s a nasty gash you have, and it’s going to need proper disinfectant and some stitches to heal properly. You need to come down to the office with me where I can do it properly.” Her eyes flew open. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not necessary,” she protested. “And I’m sure it is. Come along, Miss Matthews,” he said, tucking her uninjured arm in his. “But—” “Best listen to the doctor, dear,” Mrs. Patterson was saying. “Yes, he’s treated wounds on the battlefield, after all,” her spouse added. She felt herself being pulled out the door, willy-nilly. She trusted his medical judgment, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to be alone with him, even if she was only a patient to him in this instance.

Forgive me, Mrs. Patterson, but I find I’m not quite desperate enough to hire Miss Longfellow. I have been given the responsibility of three children. With that responsibility comes the expectation that I will keep them alive until they reach adulthood. Putting Miss Longfellow in charge of them is truly not the best way for me to achieve the whole keeping-them-alive part of my plan.” “I never realized you were possessed of such a melodramatic nature, Mr. Mulberry,” Mrs. Patterson began. “But while I sympathize slightly with your plight, knowing you never expected to have three children dropped off on your doorstep, I’m afraid you’ve run out of options. Your wards’ reputations precede them, and no one wants to work for you, with the exception of Miss Longfellow.” Miss Longfellow suddenly rose to her feet and lifted her chin. “I find I no longer have any desire to work for Mr. Mulberry.” Mrs. Patterson waved Miss Longfellow’s protest aside. “Of course you do, dear. Why, he pays top dollar, and you’ll get to spend your summer in Newport. It’s the place to summer these days, and I’ve heard Mr. Mulberry has one of the most impressive cottages there.” She smiled. “It faces the ocean.” “Which is exactly why I won’t be taking Miss Longfellow with me to Newport,” Everett argued. “She’ll either drown the children by tossing them into the waves to assess their swimming abilities, or drown herself in the process, leaving me short a nanny once ag—” “I wouldn’t work for you even if you offered me two thousand dollars, begged me on bended knee, and brought me flowers.” Miss Longfellow turned her attention to Mrs. Patterson. “If you come across a family other than Mr. Mulberry’s who could use my services, I may be reached at Mrs. Hart’s residence in Washington Square.” With

Best way to stir the crazy pot?" "Wrap your dogma in an American flag and wait to see who bites

She hadn't waited for God's direction. She'd decided for herself what was best.

James Patterson, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, so far these are the best horror writers, but I will continue searching for other interesting horror and twisted writers even like James Wan.

Let’s face it, who would want to date him? He didn’t travel or sail or play tennis or hang out in hip cocktail lounges. He lived in the house he grew up in with two little kids and his Spanish housekeeper. He played pick-up basketball in the driveway with his best friend from high school.

But to be the best, to reach the pinnacle, requires self-denial, sacrifice, discipline, humility, and preparation. You have to hurt yourself, scold yourself, analyze yourself, recognize your weaknesses at the same time you try to eliminate them.

In the worst companies, poor performers are first ignored and then transferred. In good companies, bosses eventually deal with problems. In the best companies, everyone holds everyone else accountable—regardless of level or position. The path to high productivity passes not through a static system, but through face-to-face conversations.

He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies. — Martin Luther King Jr.

Though the ending is schmaltzy, there was bite enough in the film to distinguish it from a Norman Rockwell vision of the nation. The Best Years of Our Lives captured rather well the stresses encountered by many veterans and their families in the immediate aftermath of war.

the best in the state, Cannabis Cup winner for sure. Smiling now, N.P. turned his sunglasses at Wilson, said, “I walked down

sobered, nodded awkwardly, and acted like he wanted to speak, but didn’t. He turned to a laptop, gave it a command. The screens on the wall displayed what looked at first glance like a collage of images. At center was a photograph Acadia had recently taken of Alex Cross’s house from across Fifth Street. Dotted lines traveled from various windows in the house out to pictures of Dr. Alex, his wife, his grandmother, his daughter, and his younger son. Set off to one side was a framed picture of Damon, Alex Cross’s older son, seventeen and a student at a prep school in western Massachusetts. Digital lines went out from each portrait, linked to images of schools, police stations, churches, grocery stores, and various friends. There were also lines connecting each member of Cross’s family to calendar and clock icons. “He uses mind-mapping software and an Xbox 360 with Kinect to make it work,” Acadia explained. “It’s interactive, Marcus. Just stand in front of the camera and point to what you want.” Intrigued now, Sunday stepped in front of the screens and the Kinect camera. He pointed at the photograph of Cross. The screen instantly jumped to a virtual diary of the detective’s recent life, everything from photographs of Bree Stone, to his kids, to his white Chevy sedan and his best friend, John Sampson, and Sampson’s wife, Billie. Sunday pointed at the calendar, and the screens showed a chronological account of everything he had seen Cross do in the prior month.

family we choose. You don’t know how lucky I am that Pierce and Gaynor chose me. These two guys are awesome. The best.

You’re supposed to take the man that has the best chance of survival.

Traveling is the best education. You see the world through another lens. You realize your homeland isn’t the only reality, there’s many.

I'm lucky I didn't die, huh? That is seriously bottom-of-the-barrel luck" "Or else it's the best kind of luck there is

Living life was like putting the beach into a jar. The point wasn't to fit everything in; it was to attend to the most important things first - the big, beautiful rocks - the most valuable people and experiences - and fit the lesser things in around them. Otherwise, the best things might get left out.

thinking the same two things. It would have been bad had they not escaped. It’s a miracle something like this hasn’t happened before. Because of the Stacey Patterson near disaster, they decide it’s best if Mallory goes to the fish store to pick up the lobsters by herself. Jake misses her the entire time she’s gone, though it gives him a chance to poke around the cottage unobserved. He could also do this while she’s out running in the morning but usually he just sleeps

when I’m focused on doing what’s best for the people as opposed to trying to appease the rabble-rousers.

Best to be up front with the American people. They’re a forgiving bunch. But try to hide something? You’ll never be respected ever again.

Here the hard evidence thins out. One unconfirmed report says the disk was eventually transferred to Wright-Patterson A.F. Base. Another says that the disk was either transferred after that to another unnamed base, or was taken directly to this unknown base directly from Atlanta. “The best description of the disk was that it was sixteen feet, five inches in diameter, convex on both upper and lower surfaces to the same degree, possessing no visible doors or windows. The thickness was slightly less than five feet. The color was silver, much like polished

VP

That’s my defense mechanism—do the best job I can and move on.

If you’re not reading—with your heart as well as your brain—you will be one stupid grown-up. Even worse, you’ll be missing out on one of the best experiences you can possibly have. Nowhere will you meet more interesting people than in books. I’ve met a lot of people, I’ve read a lot of books, and that’s the absolute truth.

How can we possibly act curious when others are either attacking us or heading for cover? People who routinely seek to find out why others are feeling unsafe do so because they have learned that getting at the source of fear and discomfort is the best way to return to dialogue. Either they’ve seen others do it or they’ve stumbled on the formula themselves. Either way, they realize that the cure to silence or violence isn’t to respond in kind, but to get at the underlying source. This calls for genuine curiosity—at a time when you’re likely to be feeling frustrated or angry.

Start with a situation where you observe someone becoming emotional and you’re still under control—such as a meeting (when you’re not personally under attack and are less likely to get hooked). Do your best to get at the person’s source of fear or anger.

Even if we do our best to safely and effectively respond to the other person’s verbal attack, we still have to face up to the fact that it’s going to take a little while for him or her to settle down.