Racer Love Quotes

I had always wanted to love Eve as Denny loved her, but I never had because I was afraid. She was my rain. She was my unpredictable element. She was my fear. But a racer should not be afraid of the rain; a racer should embrace the rain. I, alone, could manifest a change around me. By changing my mood, my energy, I allowed Eve to regard me differently. And while I cannot say that I am a master of my own destiny, I can say that I have experienced a glimpse of mastery, and I know what I have to work toward.

We all get hurt. The question is: Who do you love enough, trust enough, and want enough to give the power to hurt you?

I had always wanted to love Eve as Denny loved her, but I never had because I was afraid. She was my rain. She was my unpredictable element. She was my fear. But a racer should not be afraid of the rain; a racer should embrace the rain.

The man I picture in my mind is someone ordinary like me. Maybe he’s wearing glasses, maybe he’s not so handsome, but it’s how he loves me that’s extraordinary. It doesn’t matter how many people there are in a room. He knows when I’m there and he’ll find me right away, because I’m his heart and you always have to know where your heartbeat’s coming from.

Several factors besides skill are more significant in professional writers than in most amateurs. One is love of the surface level of language: the sound of it; the taste of it on the tongue; what it can be made to do in virtuosic passages that exist only for their own sake, like cadenzas in baroque concerti. Writers in love with their tools are not unlike surgeons obsessed with their scalpels, or Arctic sled racers who sleep among their dogs even when they don't have to

Moonshiners put more time, energy, thought, and love into their cars than any racer ever will. Lose on the track, and you go home. Lose with a load of whiskey, and you go to jail.

Cycling has nothing to do with the Tour de France. Racing a bike is a totally different sport than just being into cycling. Cycling is this therapeutic, beautiful mode of transportation where you attach yourself to this machine and it becomes part of you. Then you can go to all of these new places that you weren’t able to go before, and that has nothing to do with racing. I’m not a bike racer; I’m a bike rider. I love riding my bike, but I also love testing what I can do on my bike. So, in that regard, I am a racer. But if I had been born in Belgium and I had to race in Belgium all the time, I would’ve never gotten to the level that I am now, because the racing over there is so stressful. It just takes everything away from the niceness of being able to ride a bike.

I will always love everything you are, and even the demons that haunt your mind, I will love them as only a queen to her king can, they are the darkest parts of you that no one else has ever seen, but you have shown me,

She waved, laughing, waiting for him to go zooming past her. Instead he slowed, then came to a stop right in front of her. "What are you doing?" she demanded, as he put his foot on the asphalt. She pointed to the finish line, a scant hundred yards away. "Go." People around them started screaming. Josh ignored them all. He pulled off his glasses. "How you doing?" "Josh! This isn't funny. Move." She glanced over his shoulder, knowing the other racers would appear at any second. "Just finish. You can win. Then we'll talk." "We can talk now." She shrieked. "No! I said I was wrong. I said I loved you. What more do you want?" "You," he said. "For always." "Yes, yes. You can have that. Now go. Cross the finish line. It's right there. Can't see it? Hurry." "You'll marry me?" The man next to her turned. "For God's sake, lady. Marry him already.

After that, we don’t talk, instead we get hammered. Shot after shot we down, chasing each one with a Little Debbie snack. Before we know it, we’re hanging on to the bar counter floating around in a sugar and alcohol coma, just the way I like it. “There’s my girl,” Racer shouts as he topples off his stool and onto the floor, laughing hysterically. Georgie stops in her tracks and looks over at Emma, who’s standing next to her, both holding two boxes of Little Debbie snacks each. “Emmmmmmmma,” Tucker drags out, waving his glass in the air. “You brought the snacks.” “Oh, Jesus,” Emma mutters as she approaches us. I point to my mouth and say, “Feed me. Daddy needs sugar.” Racer is beside me, tangled in the pegs of his bar stool, still laughing. “Did you bring Oatmeal Pies, George? Please tell me you have the pies.” “Uh, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” she says, looking down at her boyfriend. “Never!” Racer struggles to get up and finally knocks the chair over to free himself. “Fucking bitch chair, digging into me with its claws.” Talking to the stool directly he says, “I’m taken, warm someone else’s ass.” “He’s going to propose, chair, leave him alone,” Tucker announces, causing me to cringe. “Dude, don’t say it out loud.” I punch Tucker in the shoulder. “Georgie is right there.” All three of us turn to Georgie, who’s shaking her head in humor. Hopefully. “I’ll take Aaron,” Emma tells Georgie. “Seems like Racer is more of a handful.” “Hell yeah, I am.” Racer stumbles while cupping his crotch. “A giant handful.” Georgie rolls her eyes. “And that’s our cue to leave.” “But we didn’t eat our snacks.” “Seems like you had enough.” Georgie grabs Racer by the hand. “Come on.” As they walk away, Racer asks, “Want to have sex in the car?” “Not even a little.” “Here, you two, you can have your boxes of snacks.” Emma hands Tucker and me both a box of Oatmeal Pies that we clutch to our chests. “You’re the best,” I admit. “She is, isn’t she?” Tucker says. “I love her so fucking hard. Best wife ever.” She pulls on both of our hands to get us moving. “She wins wife of the year award,” I announce. “Best wife goes to Emma. Can we get a round of applause?” Tucker breaks open his Oatmeal Pies and starts spraying them like confetti. “Emma. Emma. Emma.” He chants, getting the three other patrons in the bar to join in. I pump my fist as well, forgetting everything from earlier. I knew I could count on my guys. “Emma. Emma. Emma . . .” And then, everything fades to black. Emotions and feelings are non-existent as I pass out, just the way I like it. Just the way I need it.

I told you this is my fifth Iditarod. I don’t think you understand what that means. It means I’ve been breeding dogs, raising them, working with them all these years to prepare for this race. Every race is this race. As soon as | got home from my first race I started putting together the best team I could train. Every year I do that. “I’ve bought dogs, traded them, tried them out, found out what kind of pups turn into good racers, sold and gotten rid of as many as I kept. With a lot of hard work, I’ve built a racing machine. I know which dogs will go in any kind of cold, which run best in the wind, and which can take the weather without dehydrating. We understand each other. Tank knows, almost before I do, what I want and what to do about it. He’s a great leader. And the rest know me, trust me and what I ask them to do. They love it, the running, as much as I| do. I Jove it, Alex, or I wouldn’t do it.

I like saying it, Yuri.' The grave look that accompanied her words was beginning to be familiar, a sign that she was about to drop another oh-so-truthful bombshell. 'I'm proud someone like you loves me.

Sell yourself?” repeated the peeress. Fine ladies are not often fond of hearing things called by their proper names, “Yes, sell myself,” repeated Violet, bitterly, leaning against the mantelpiece, with a painful smile upon her lips. “Would you not put me up to auction, knock me down to the highest bidder? Marriage is the mart, mothers the auctioneers, and he who bids the highest wins. Women are like racers, brought up only to run for Cups, and win handicaps for their owners.” “Nonsense!” said her mother, impatiently. “You have lost your senses, I think. There is no question of ‘selling,’ as you term it. Marriage is a social compact, of course, where alliances suitable in position, birth, and wealth, are studied. Why should you pretend to be wiser than all the rest of the world? Most amiable and excellent women have married without thinking love a necessary ingredient Why should you object to a good alliance if it be a mariage de convenance?

That sounds more like you, but that’s why I love you. I’m all grimy and covered in cake, I’m going to change really quick.” “Put on a tight shirt.” “Is that how you want to tell them? Just show them?” He smiled and looked back to make sure no one was near us, “Just act like nothing’s different, see how long it takes them. I think it’d be fun Mrs. Taylor, don’t you?” “I have to agree with you Mr. Taylor. I’ll be right back.” Changing into a bright blue racer-back stretchy tank, and a clean pair of jeans, I made my way back to the living room and tried to wipe the smile off my face. “You look amazing Harper.” Brandon pulled me into his arms again and kissed my neck softly. “I’m sorry, I know you get self-conscious, but you pregnant is a breathtaking sight.” I grabbed each side of his face, and pulled him down to me as I stood on my toes, “Thank you.” I kissed him quickly twice, barely pulling away to look in his eyes, “I love you.” “And I love you.

her head reeling at the way he pounded into her so hard that each thrust had the car rocking. He kept his eyes on her the whole time, memorizing every little expression that crossed her face as she screamed his name. And when she finally came, she pushed him to find his own shuddering pleasure, too. “Bobby.” He groaned her name out as promised. She collapsed against him, and he shuddered again when he felt Bobby tenderly kissing the side of his neck. It was these little things, the ones that she only allowed him to see when she remained a tough little chick to everyone else, which made Leandro love her even more. She loved him, and with every little secret she shared only with him, she proved her love

I had always wanted to love Eve as Denny loved her, but I never had because I was afraid. She was my rain. She was my unpredictable element. She was my fear. But a racer should not be afraid of rain; a racer should embrace the rain. I, alone, could manifest a change in that which was around me. By changing my mood, my energy, I allowed Eve to regard me differently. And while I cannot say that I am a master of my own destiny, I can say that I have experienced a glimpse of mastery, and I know what I have to work toward.

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