Peter Cetera Quotes

Where's your dog?" Peter's voice came from within the gushing stream of water. Justin thought he must have misheard. "Pardon?" "Your dog." "Yes?" "Isn't he with you today?" Justin looked at Peter. "Ha bloody ha." Peter stuck his head out of the stream of water, features dripping. He smiled shyly. "I love greyhounds." Justin stared. "My dog is imaginary." "Oh." Peter looked interested. "That's unusual." Justin put his head under the water. When he emerged, Peter was still looking at him. "Less work," Peter offered, cheerily. "If the dog's imaginary, I mean. Not so much grooming, feeding, et cetera.

your the inspiration bring feeling into my life i wanna have you near me now i need you more than i need you

God judges justly. “All who sinned without [knowing] the [Mosaic] law will also perish without the law, and all who have sinned under the law will be judged by the law” (Rom 2:12). Even pagans show “that what the law requires is written on their hearts” (Rom 2:15). If we honestly consult our hearts, we will find two truths: that we know what we ought to do and be, and that we fail to do and be that. Fundamentalists, faithful to the clear one-way teaching of Christ, often conclude from this that pagans, Buddhists, et cetera, cannot be saved. Liberals, who emphasize God’s mercy, cannot bring themselves to believe that the mass of men are doomed to hell, and they ignore,

You've got to give a little, take a little And let your poor heart break a little That's the story of, that's the glory of love You've got to laugh a little, cry a little Until the clouds roll by a little That's the story of, that's the glory of love As long as there's the two of us We've got the world and all its charms And when the world is through with us We've got each other's arms You've got to win a little, lose a little Yes, and always have the blues a little That's the story of, that's the glory of love That's the story of, that's the glory of love

You've got to give a little, take a little And let your poor heart break a little That's the story of, that's the glory of love You've got to laugh a little, cry a little Until the clouds roll by a little That's the story of, that's the glory of love You've got to win a little, lose a little Yes, and always have the blues a little That's the story of, that's the glory of love

Our hangout sessions went on for a few months until we finally just evaporated into a puff of sexless smoke in her living room, like the dry ice at a Bauhaus concert. No, that’s too sexy. Like the dry ice at a Peter Cetera concert.

The fuck you doing?” I ask as she pokes my side with the pads of her explorative fingers. “It seems I’ve misplaced the motherfucker I came home with,” she says, her tone jovial before she lowers the sheet, a blinding smile in place. “Because there’s no damned way I just busted him lip-syncing Peter Cetera . . . O.M.G. is that a blush? Are you blushing?