Preston Smiles Quotes

Nature had seemed to be closing in on us for a kill, when she suddenly turned her face away and smiled. It was a Mona Lisa smile, the meaning of which no one could figure out.

I am conflict. But then she smiles. At me. Because she is hope.

Where are you from, Mr. Pendergast? Can't quite place the accent.” “New Orleans.” “What a coincidence! I went there for Mardi Gras once." “How nice for you. I myself have never attended.” Ludwig paused, the smile frozen on his face, wondering how to steer the conversation onto a more pertinent topic.

Let go of your perceived control, and let the unknown turn you on.

Are you ready to leave, Oakley? Cole is waiting outside,” my mum said softly. She leant against the doorframe of my room and smiled

Good evening, Flowers,” he said and gave us a charming, this is all totally normal smile. That was how he got away with it. He looked so friendly you just instantly trusted him—unless you were down here, of course. “Good evening,” they replied in unison.

Cole talked almost continuously on the drive, chatting away about his car and what we’d do later. Occasionally, I would nod or smile in response to something he’d said, but apart from that, I just sat and listened to him speaking. His voice was smooth and calming. Not talking to him was hard. I desperately wanted to return his quick banter with something smart of my own. But I stayed tongue-tied. As

Her eyes widened. I assumed in alarm, but who the hell knew what was going on in her stubborn head. I took the coffee cup from her hand and rested it on the grass next to mine. I leaned in toward her slowly. Her eyes remained steady on mine. Just as I was so close I could feel her warm erratic breath on my face, her hand landed on my chest. “What are you doing?” she whispered. Maintaining eye contact I smiled, reached out, held the back of her head and pulled her closer still. “What I should have done ten years ago.” ~ Preston, A Perfect Moment

Her smile used to be my favourite part of her. Now it was as false as my own, and it was all because of me.

I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t find my voice. He smiled and reached in, grabbing my arm before I had chance to jump back.

Me? You just won a championship. All I did was talk to my dad.” “Both equally important victories. We did good today, Preston.” She smiles brightly. “We did.

Why are you looking at me like that?” My smile widens, and I sigh heavily, shaking my head. “I’ve spent a hell of a lot of years in love with you, Mia.” I shrug. “Hard habit to break.

I am a deeply uncertain individual. I often find myself acting like a fool to make the people around me laugh. When they’re laughing, they’re not watching me quite as closely. I smile to put people at ease. But what if I opened my mouth one day, spoke my actual thoughts, and the people glared at my opinions? What if they thought me disgusting or frightening or ugly because of my words? Would you keep your lips shut for the rest of your life to not face that judgment? Just for the sake of someone else’s comfort? For these strangers, who I will never know? If I can’t speak then I’ll write. These strangers, whose opinions crush me, will be forced to listen. Because when they read my words those words will make a home within their heads. They may even end up using my own opinions against me. But at least I’ll be hidden behind the pages of a book.

I sat down next to Cole and smiled at Mum, thanking her for the breakfast she just placed in front of me. “So are you two doing anything after school?” Mum asked, grinning at us both. She has a stupid fantasy in her head where me and Cole would be together. I had the same one. “Probably

Cole talked almost continuously on the drive, chatting away about his car and what we’d do later. Occasionally, I would nod or smile in response to something he’d said, but apart from that, I just sat and listened to him speaking. His voice was smooth and calming. Not talking to him was hard. I desperately wanted to return his quick banter with something smart of my own. But I stayed tongue-tied. As we pulled into the half-full car park, I started to feel sick. People whispered to each other whenever I was around.

But our Edenic tent–God doesn’t just want to save us. He actually wants to be with us. He doesn’t just love us. God actually likes us. So God removes His royal robes and steps down from His throne to experience—for the first time—what it is like to be human. God is omniscient, which means that He is all-knowing. There’s nothing in the universe, no piece of information, no fact, no statistic that He doesn’t know. The hairs on your head, the zits on your face—He knows about every one. But until the incarnation, God hadn’t experienced human nature. Since zits aren’t a sin, perhaps Jesus had them too. God knows every hair on your head, but through the incarnation, God knows what it feels like to have hair ripped out. God knows about tiredness, but through the incarnation, He experiences exhaustion. God knows how many molecules it takes to shoot a hunger pain from your stomach to your brain. But through the incarnation, God knows what it feels like to starve to the point of death. Through the incarnation, God has enjoyed the same warm wave of sunlight that splashes across your face on the first day of spring. When you bathe in it, God smiles because He’s bathed in it too. He’s been refreshed by a night’s sleep after a long day of work. Warmed by a toasty bed on a cold winter night. Enjoyed a rich glass of wine while celebrating among friends. God authored creation. But through the incarnation, God experienced creation. And He encountered joy under the bridge. He also experienced pain. Relational, psychological, emotional, and physical agony. God has suffered the misery and brokenness of the same sin-saturated world that oppresses us every day. The pain of being rejected, beaten, abused, unloved, uncared for, mocked, shamed, spat upon, and disrespected as an image bearer of the Creator. Jesus knows all of this. He’s experienced all of this. And He willingly endured it to bring you back to Eden.

Tyrion, I know we do not always agree on policy, but it seems to me that I was wrong about you. You are not so big a fool as I imagined. In truth, I realize now that you have been a great help. For that I thank you. You must forgive me if I have spoken to you harshly in the past.” “Must I?” He gave her a shrug, a smile. “Sweet sister, you have said nothing that requires forgiveness.” “Today, you mean?” They both laughed . . . and Cersei leaned over and planted a quick, soft kiss on his brow. Too astonished for words, Tyrion could only watch her stride off down the hall, Ser Preston at her side. “Have I lost my wits, or did my sister just kiss me?” he asked Bronn when she was gone. “Was it so sweet?” “It was . . . unanticipated.” Cersei had been behaving queerly of late. Tyrion found it very unsettling. “I am trying to recall the last time she kissed me. I could not have been more than six or seven. Jaime had dared her to do it." “The woman’s finally taken note of your charms.” “No,” Tyrion said. “No, the woman is hatching something. Best find out what, Bronn. You know I hate surprises.

Ah! Mr. Osborne, you should have been there! I said to myself many a time how you really should have been there—you and, your brother of course.' 'I thought of you very often during the evening!' 'Did you? Now that I call very kind of you. Cynthia, darling! Do you hear what Mr. Osborne Hamley was saying?' as Cynthia came into the room just then. 'He thought of us all on the evening of the ball.' 'He did better than merely remember us then,' said Cynthia, with her soft slow smile. 'We owe him thanks for those beautiful flowers, mamma.' 'Oh!' said Osborne, 'you must not thank me exclusively. I believe it was my thought, but Roger took all the trouble of it.' 'I consider the thought as everything,' said Mrs. Gibson. 'Thought is spiritual, while action is merely material.' This fine sentence took the speaker herself by surprise; and in such conversation as was then going on, it is not necessary to accurately define the meaning of everything that is said. 'I'm afraid the flowers were too late to be of much use though,' continued Osborne. 'I met Preston the next morning, and of course we talked about the ball. I was sorry to find he had been beforehand with us,

What else do you need us to do?” Falcon asks. I shake my head. “You both still need to wrap things up with Serena and Clare. I’ll handle the rest, once I can figure out what that entails.” “You can’t just ask her?” Mason asks. “No.” I let out a heavy breath. “It turns out I’ve been texting with the damn mistress.” I lean forward and place my elbows on the table, and covering my face with my hands, I mumble, “It feels like I’ve been violated by a sugarless mommy.” Falcon busts out laughing, spraying me with the sip of soda he just took. “Noooo!” I shake my hands to get rid of the drops before I grab a napkin. “You’re so lucky I had my hands in front of my face.” Then I hear a snort next to me. I glare at Mason, watching him try to cover his eyes with a hand while his whole body shakes with laughter. “What’s a sugarless mommy?” Preston mumbles, not taking his eyes off the phone in his hands. Falcon cracks up and in the process, whacks a glass off the table. A waitress rushes over and quickly begins to clean up the mess. “I’m sorry,” I say to her. “I’m still trying to teach them how to behave in public. You know,” I let out a heavy sigh, “it’s not easy being a single parent and raising three kids on my own.” Mason almost explodes next to me when the waitress gives me a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look. With a huge smile on my face, I watch him laugh.

In February, after not getting to see the boys for weeks and weeks, completely beside myself with grief, I went to plead to see them. Kevin wouldn't let me in. I begged him. Jayden James was five months old and Sean Preston was seventeen months old. I imagined their not knowing where their mother was, wondering why she didn't want to be with them. I wanted to get a battering ram to get to them. I didn't know what to do. The paparazzi watched it all happen. I can't describe the humiliation I felt. I was concerned. I was out being chased, like always, by these men waiting for me to do something they could photograph. And so that night I gave them some material. I went into a hair salon, and I took the clippers, and I shaved off all my hair. Everyone thought it was hilarious. Look how crazy she is! Even my parents acted embarrassed by me. But nobody seemed to understand that I was simply out of my mind with grief. My children had been taken away from me. With my head shaved, everyone was scared of me, even my mom. No one would talk to me anymore because I was too ugly. My long hair was a big part of what people liked-I knew that. I knew a lot of guys thought long hair was hot. Shaving my head was a way of saying to the world: Fuck you. You want me to be pretty for you? Fuck you. You want me to be good for you? Fuck you. You want me to be your dream girl? Fuck you. I'd been the good girl for years. I'd smiled politely while TV show hosts leered at my breasts, while American parents said I was destroying their children by wearing a crop top, while executives patted my hand condescendingly and second-guessed my career choices even though I'd sold millions of records, while my family acted like I was evil. And I was tired of it. At the end of the day, I didn't care. All I wanted to do was see my boys. It made me sick thinking about the hours, the days, the weeks I missed with them. My most special moments in life were taking naps with my children, That's the closest I've ever felt to God-taking naps with me precious babies, smelling their hair, holding their tiny hands.

As she passed the recreation room, she saw Mr. Preston, still sitting quietly in his chair, a blanket over his knees. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Fine thanks. Just gonna sit here a little longer, then I’ll head up.” She sat beside him, sharing the silence. “That friend of yours is a good sort,” he finally said. “Nice of him to stop in and say goodbye before going home to his folks.” “He did?” “Ayuh.” “What did he say?” The old man never turned his head to look at her, but the faintest of smiles touched his lips and he sat up a bit straighter in his chair. “He shook my hand and said, ‘Thank you for your service.’ Then he saluted me and left.” Jess felt tears prick her eyes, seeing how very much the gesture had touched this proud, quiet old man. Tanner hadn’t been happy when he’d left here, she knew that, yet he’d taken the time to reach out a hand in friendship and brotherhood to this complete stranger. What a good man. What an amazingly wonderful man. She’d found him twice in her life. Once she’d lost him due to fate and war and bad timing. This time, she’d let him slip right through her fingers. That was a mistake she could rectify. It wasn’t too late. She wouldn’t let it be.

Alves-Vettoretto spoke. “How do you know he’s telling us the truth?” “An excellent question! You haven’t been around long enough to appreciate my methods. The fact is, we will know soon enough if Mr. Pendergast has lied or not.” Gladstone, moaning and struggling, saw Alves-Vettoretto frown in confusion. “You’re wondering how I can be so sure,” the general said. “Because he is about to witness, with his own eyes, the effects of the drug on a subject. You see—Dr. Smith already administered the H12K to Dr. Gladstone. He did that when he first inserted the IV. There’s nothing in that other needle but saline. Once Mr. Pendergast sees what happens… and knows the same will happen to him… then he will be totally forthcoming, if he has not been already.” He turned to Pendergast with a smile and checked his watch. “It takes about an hour for the drug to act on the brain. Almost forty minutes have gone by since Dr. Smith inserted the IV. That means we have another twenty until the show begins.” He gestured at the long mirror on the wall. “It can get rather messy, unfortunately, so let us retire to the observation room and watch from there.” He turned. “Ms. Alves-Vettoretto. You haven’t seen the results of the drug in action yet, have you?” She shook her head. “Then, by all means, please join us.

Do you see any likely wine criminals?” Pendergast asked. “That elderly gentleman in the madras jacket with the purple bow tie looks suspicious.” Pendergast slowed and carelessly eased the roadster to the curb. “We’re stopping?” “We have a little time. Let us try what I understand to be a local delicacy: the lobster roll.” As they got out, the gentleman in the madras jacket passed with a nod and smile, and continued on. “Definitely suspicious,” murmured Constance. “He should be locked up on the strength of that bow tie alone.

Why was it, Corvus wondered, as he stood before the august presence with a genial smile sculpted on his face, that one always whispered in the presence of kings and cretins?

i gave myself permission to freak out. smiled like an idiot, made an embarrassing screeching sound through my teeth, flapped my hands like tiny little chicken wings, the works. mr. britton responded by doing pretty much the exact same thing. we were only human, you know.

They smiled and shook hands, then led Pickett back up the dock and along gracefully curving paths of crushed shell, punctuated by marble benches set into the foliage, heavy with tropical flowers. They climbed a set of marble stairs, went down another pathway, climbed again. Despite the sun, it was cool under the palms, and a gentle but constant breeze stirred the flower-fragrant air. Now and then, Pickett spied buildings between the trees: alabaster marble, like every other structure. Here and there a peacock strutted across the walk, and huge parrots stared down at them from bottlebrush trees.

I smile back, because this is definitely going down as the most crazy and absurd experience of my life, but at least I’m sharing it with these people—these amazing, kind, ridiculous, beautiful people—who are all ready and willing to call me a sister.

I have four, so let me give you some wisdom; that’s the secret to familial harmony. Everyone gets their ‘thing’. Mine is dance.” He flashes me a winning smile. “That and being fucking awesome.

You sound like you only have one sibling,” he says, reaching into the bag for more. “I have four, so let me give you some wisdom; that’s the secret to familial harmony. Everyone gets their ‘thing’. Mine is dance.” He flashes me a winning smile. “That and being fucking awesome.

Preston?' she said. Her voice sounded strange: small, wondering. Almost hopeful. He glanced up. 'Yes?' 'Thank you.' 'For what?' 'For caring whether or not I die of sepsis,' she said. 'Oh,' he said. 'Well, you can never be too cautious. People have died in much more banal ways.' 'Thank you for giving me the chance to die of something interesting, then.' 'As long as you don't throw yourself out of any more moving cars.' There was a slight quiver on the left side of his mouth, as if he were trying not to smile. Behind his glasses, his eyes were solemn. 'There are far more interesting deaths out there.

I know I said this like two seconds ago, but I really do love you.” He pressed his forehead against mine and smiled. “I know I said this like two seconds ago, but I really do love you too.

I asked my mom this morning why she suggested Preston to Grandfather as the perfect match for me—bloodlines and birth order aside—and she told me that it always made her smile when Preston would ruffle my feathers when we were children. She knew I would grow up to be a strong, independent woman and would need an equally strong man to challenge me and know exactly when to put me in my place. If only she really knew.

This room is nice, but where will the baby sleep?” Trailing his fingers up and down my spine, Preston replied, “Luce, I told you, don’t let the pressure get to you. If that’s not something you want, it’s okay. If it is, we have plenty of time to convert this room or move if necessary.” I knew he couldn’t see me twist my lips into a smile, but that was half the fun. “Well, not that much time . . .” Without warning, my body fell face-first into the mattress as he sat up abruptly. “What?” “Hmm? What’s that?” I mumbled into the covers, playing dumb. “Lucy . . . That’s not funny.” Daring to look up at him, I knew the moment he saw the truth on my face. “Looks like Grandfather will get that summer baby he was hoping for.” “A baby. Our baby?” “Is that okay?” I watched his expression closely, but it gave nothing away. “Is that okay?” he repeated. Honestly, at this point, I think I broke his brain. Cupping his face, I held his gaze. “Hey, I love you.” “Are you sure?” When I nodded, his face morphed into one of pure joy. Pulling my face to his, he kissed me with so much love that I felt it all the way down to my toes.

I wanted to give you something that would last forever. Something that would surpass the world, that would still be alive and bright even after you passed away. Something beautiful. For your eyes and smile only. But I never found it. All I could give you is words. Words which were as fleeting as the heartbeats that shook my soul whenever you looked my way.

I begin my life. I live again. I meet a young girl called Valeria. She smiles easily. She laughs tender sounds that pull at my heart. I’m too young to be profound but she makes me feel so safe. So cherished. I am thirty years old. I bump into a woman I knew when she was a girl. Valeria looks annoyed to see me. She lives in the future. Where the world is turning. I live within the past. Where the people are trapped and screaming and alone. I live within the past when Valeria and I were in love. She’s waiting for the cab to come, her foot tapping against the sidewalk. Her eyes glancing at her watch every few minutes. I’m eager to reunite our lives through some kind of friendship. I’m so eager to know her again, as she was when she was a child. But Valeria lives within the future. I live within the past. Have the two ever gotten along? Have they ever even met?

Miles is coming,” I blurted out. Her face dropped, and I leant forward slightly, ready to take off if necessary. “Miles is what?” Mum asked, sitting down. I cringed. “Coming here. Now.” She stayed perfectly calm, but she was probably planning on how she could kill me and dispose of my body. “Mum?” “Thank you,” she whispered. Thank you? What? “Huh?” She smiled and replied, “I need him here.” Admitting that was hard for her, I could tell. She didn’t trust men anymore, so it wasn’t easy for her to let one into our lives. “So, you admit it? You like Miles?” “Don’t get too carried away, young lady.” She grinned sheepishly, which told me everything. The doorbell rang, and Mum jumped. “Wow, he has good timing,” I muttered. Mum

She turned to her left to to face the young man who spoke the word that changed her life. Her eyes met eyes that penetrated her soul, and she knew instinctively that she would fall in love if she hadn't already. His face was soft and flawless. His lengthy dark brown hair was parted to the left and partially covered his ears. His smile was absolutely mesmerizing, magical. If

I love you, Harper.” His hands reached up but he only cupped her hips, letting her continue on her journey. She pressed a kiss to the scar across his right deltoid, an old injury from one of his first deployments, then his left collarbone, broken on a training trip to California. Then, moving carefully, she pressed kisses to the new scar still healing on his chest. That one had been too close to taking his life. Thank goodness he had been able to receive medical care as quickly as he did. Cat moved down Harper’s muscled abs and the slim line of black hair there. “I think everything about you is beautiful.” He puffed out a little laugh but she looked up at him with reproach. “I do. Your body is superb, even wounded. It always has been. That’s why I always have to beat the nurses off you.” She flashed him a grin. “Your mind is devious and brilliant, but I love that. The loyalty to your family and your men is humbling.” She stroked a finger over the tattoo that echoed those sentiments on his right pectoral. “Your unfailing courage in the face of everything that has happened is astounding. I know whatever we have to face you will conquer with that same indomitable, dogged, Navy SEAL will. And your heart,” she moved back up his chest to press a kiss to his sternum, “your heart is more loving and willing to try than I ever could have hoped. We’re going to put our family back together,” she promised. Harper stared up at her for several long seconds before he closed his eyes, but not before she’d seen the shine of moisture in their depths. He pulled her down on top of him, burying his face into her neck. “You are every bit the woman you’ve always been, calm and understanding, willing to put up with my shit. And I have to tell you. All of those things you see in me? I wouldn’t be any of them without you. And I mean that. You’ve supported me through everything. You flew across the country to be at my bedside even though you didn’t know the kind of reaction you’d receive. It amazes me that you would take that chance. But I’m so glad you did. I love you, Catherine Marie Preston. I always have.” She flashed a smile at the use of her full name. “And I love you, Harper Broderick Preston. I always will.” They

Life’s such a fucking Hallmark film. The worst kind of shit will happen, and all you can do is turn to camera with a rueful smile and apologise to the audience for the delay. Just keep the show going. Wrap it all up in a neat quote and promise things will return to normal. I hear all the world’s a stage. I only wish it showcased a play I could exist from. If only this story would end. But you can’t say things like that out loud. It sounds slightly too suicidal.

Okay, then . . . good night.” “Good night . . . Jordan Preston.” I grip the doorway and look over my shoulder. “It’s Jonah Peter.” A slow, sexy smile passes over her lips before she says, “Good night . . . Jonah.” “Good night, Kelse.