Rosemary Quotes

Ah, my daughter,ʺ he said. ʺEighteen, and already youʹve been accused of murder, aided felons, and acquired a death count higher than most guardians will ever see.ʺ He paused. ʺI couldnʹt be prouder.

There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.

Lissa and I had been friends ever since kindergarten, when our teacher had paired us up together for writing lessons. Forcing five-year-olds to spell Vasilisa Dragomir and Rosemarie Hathaway was beyond cruel, and we’d—or rather, I’d—responded appropriately. I’d chucked my book at out teacher and called her a fascist bastard. I hadn’t known what those words meant, but I’d known how to hit a moving target. Lissa and I had been inseparable ever since.

You should date a girl who reads. Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn. She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book. Buy her another cup of coffee. Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice. It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does. She has to give it a shot somehow. Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world. Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two. Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series. If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are. You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype. You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots. Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads. Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Everyone always says that love was enough. It wasn't. Not when your soul has been shattered.

I'll find you. There is no place in this world you can hide from me. I'm watching. Love, Dimitri

He wasn't what sent me running. He was what had made me want to stay.

When you find your reason for living, hold onto it. Never let it go. Even if it means burning other bridges along the way.

All you can do, Rosemary – all any of us can do – is work to be something positive instead. That is a choice that every sapient must make every day of their life. The universe is what we make of it. It’s up to you to decide what part you will play.

That's a dangerous look," said Dimitri, giving me a brief glance before returning his eyes to the road. "What look?" I asked innocently. "The one that says you just got some idea." "I didn't just get an idea. I got a great idea.

You don't have to love me. Just don't leave me," he said against my leg

She's amazing. No... she's perfect. Everything about her is fucking perfect," I said aloud. "I don't just love her, she owns me. Completely. I'd do anything for her.

They are embossed on every song that was a hit that summer, in every novel I read during and after his stay, on anything from the smell of rosemary on hot days to the frantic rattle of the cicadas in the afternoon—smells and sounds I’d grown up with and known every year of my life until then but that had suddenly turned on me and acquired an inflection forever colored by the events of that summer.

Not everyone sees you the way you do. Sometimes our imperfections are what makes us special. - Tripp

No. One. Comes. Before You.

I had fallen too far. I was in love with Rush Finlay.

Because I’ve had a taste and I’m not sharing. This isn’t just for fun. I may be slightly addicted.

Anyone who needs more than one suitcase is a tourist, not a traveler

She wished she had a little yellow house of her own, with a flower box full of real flowers and herbs – pansies and rosemary – and a sweet lover who would swing dance with her in the evenings and cook pasta and read poetry aloud.

When Rome burned, the emperor's cats still expected to be fed on time.

The love she left behind will be the reason dreams are reached. She was the rock in a world that was crumbling. Her strength will remain. It’s in our hearts.

There is someone out there that will love you.They'll want you for you.Don't settle for less.Life is short and I'm tired of wasting it

Blaire, even if all we do is kiss or just lay there and talk, I'm okay with that. I just wanted you up here. Close to me.

Was this all part of your plan as my lawyer? I don't recall explosive escapes being part of the legal training." "Well, I'm sure it wasn't part of Damon Taru's legal training.

If anything attacked us, we could just panic at it until it went away.

The story that I love you, it has no end.

Most people think everybody feels about them much more violently than they actually do; they think other people's opinions of them swing through great arcs of approval or disapproval.

What have I done?" I whispered. Jill put her arm around me, but it was Dimitri who spoke. "What you had to.

Listen to me, Blaire. If you try to go anywhere I will chase you down. I will become your shadow. I won't let you out of my sight because I can't live without you. I made so many damn mistakes with you I don't even want to try and count them but I am going to start making things right from here on out.

No man has ever loved a woman as much as I love you. Nothing will ever come before you. I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that I won’t let you down again. I won’t hurt you. You don’t have to be alone anymore. I need you.

I don’t want to lose you. I’m in love with you Blaire. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone the way I want you. I can’t imagine my world now without you in it.

I’m not ever letting your sexy ass get too far away from me again.” “How far is too far?” I asked. “It’s all too far. I want you right here beside me… forever.

He pressed a kiss to my ear. “Do you feel stretched? Can you tell I’ve been inside you?” I nodded, feeling my knees go a little weak from the tone in his voice. “Good. I like knowing you can feel where I’ve been.

I love you girl...to the moon and back.

Loosing you would be the only thing that could destroy me

I loved her. I loved her with a something so fierce I couldn't even name it.

Talk. We are going to talk first. I want to see you smile and laugh. I want to know what your favorite show was when you were a kid and who made you cry at school and what boy band you hung posters of on your wall. Then I want you naked in my bed again.

Great," I said. "Another conference call. I have really got to start blocking your number.

He asked <...> Rosemary, why do you love books so much? And I said, Well, I don't know <...> I suppose I love them because they're quiet, and I can take them to the park.

You naked in my bed is even more unbelievably beautiful than I thought it would be... and trust me I've thought about it. A lot.

But I don't fit. Your family hates me. I make your life difficult." That's where she was wrong. "No, You're my family. And as for making my life difficult, you, Blaire Wynn, make my life complete.

She may have had enough time to deal with things. What if she does come back? What will you do?" Grant asked me. What would I do? I'd beg.

Goodbyes weren't all they were cracked up to be

The truth is, Rosemary, that you are capable of anything. Good or bad. You always have been, and you always will be. Given the right push, you, too, could do horrible things. That darkness exists within all of us. You think every soldier who picked up a cutter gun was a bad person? No. She was just doing what the soldier next to her was doing, who was doing what the soldier next to her was doing, and so on and so on. And I bet most of them — not all, but most — who made it through the war spent a long time after trying to understand what they’d done. Wondering how they ever could have done it in the first place. Wondering when killing became so comfortable.

Please. Forgive me. One more chance, Blaire. I want this. I want you.

I never imagined anyone like you, Blaire. But every time I think about forever with you, I’m humbled that you chose me.

I need you. Right now. Let me love you right here, please.

I don't just love her, she owns me. Completely. I'd do anything for her

You are mine. Do you hear me? You are mine, Della Sloane. I will take care of you. Nothing is taking you away from me. Nothing.

I don't like cages,

You said everything I needed to hear. I'm hooked now. You have me. What are you going to do with me?

Why are you hanging around, then? Aren't you worried about getting hit?" "Aw, you'd never hurt me. My face is too pretty.

I don’t want you under those damn stairs. I hate it. But I can’t move you up here. I’ll never be able to stay away from you. I need you safely tucked away.

Be glad I don't have my gun because right now I'm considering the different ways I can get you to shut up. Let me scream and back off.

Your instant reaction to being scared is to pull out a gun on someone? Damn girl, where are you from? Most girls I know squeal or some shit like that.

Cats never listen. They’re dependable that way; when Rome burned, the emperor’s cats still expected to be fed on time.

He wasn't what sent me running. He was what made we want to stay.

I just bared my soul to you and all I get is an ‘okay’?

I have it on good authority there's going to be a new 'gate' opening up soon over on the south side of the wall." The truth dawned on me. "Oh lord. You're the one who's been doling out C4." "You make it sound easy," he said with a frown. "That stuff's hard to get a hold of.

Sometimes what we want isn't what's best for us - Della

In a world where thrushes sing and willow trees are golden in the spring, boredom should have been included among the seven deadly sins.

I'll be whatever you allow me to be, Blaire. Just don't shut me out again. Please.

I do not think that you can be changing the end of a song or a story like that, as though it were quite separate from the rest. I think the end of a story is part of it from the beginning.

Inside I knew he was meant to be the guy that taught me about life. Even if he broke my heart eventually.

God, baby, I can’t do this. I can’t pretend I’m not fucking thrilled you’re standing in my house right now.

I love you Rush Finlay. You are going to be the best husband and father the world has ever known. One day our son’s wife will be thankful that her husband will have had you for a role model. She’ll be lucky because of you. Because you will have raised our son to be the man that you are. He’ll love her completely because he’ll know how.

You want to know what happened? YOU happened Rush. That's what happened.

This sweet, determined, sexy-as-hell blonde walked into my life and gave me a reason to live.

Fuck You Poem #45 Fuck you in slang and conventional English. Fuck you in lost and neglected lingoes. Fuck you hungry and sated; faded, pock marked, and defaced. Fuck you with orange rind, fennel and anchovy paste. Fuck you with rosemary and thyme, and fried green olives on the side. Fuck you humidly and icily. Fuck you farsightedly and blindly. Fuck you nude and draped in stolen finery. Fuck you while cells divide wildly and birds trill. Thank you for barring me from his bedside while he was ill. Fuck you puce and chartreuse. Fuck you postmodern and prehistoric. Fuck you under the influence of opiun, codeine, laudanum, and paregoric. Fuck every real and imagined country you fancied yourself princess of. Fuck you on feast days and fast days, below and above. Fuck you sleepless and shaking for nineteen nights running. Fuck you ugly and fuck you stunning. Fuck you shipwrecked on the barren island of your bed. Fuck you marching in lockstep in the ranks of the dead. Fuck you at low and high tide. And fuck you astride anyone who has the bad luck to fuck you, in dank hallways, bathrooms, or kitchens. Fuck you in gasps and whispered benedictions. And fuck these curses, however heartfelt and true, that bind me, till I forgive you, to you.

We have to burn brightly. We can’t burn forever

She was the rock in a world that was crumbling

Is she forever for you then? She's worth throwing it all away?" "She's it. No one else. She's all I'm ever going to want.

I love you, Blaire. I’m so damn proud of the fact you’re going to be the mother of my son. I want everyone to know. Never doubt that.

I’ve missed you. I’ve had to put up with Rush’s sulking ass. So trust me I missed the fuckin’ hell outta you.

Things worth having don’t come easy,” Woods said. “You have to fight for it until you’re tired of fighting, and then you take a breather and fight some more.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t give up. You’ll regret it.

Like so many unhappinesses, this one had begun with silence in the place of honest open talk.

I really wish I could confirm to him that you do in fact have a penis. A very big and pretty penis,” Blaire whispered. I winced. “Please, just call it big. Don’t call it pretty. That hurts its feelings.

My major vice is sarcasm with a side of caffeine addiction.

I'm trying my hardest to get you so wrapped up in me you never leave.

Blaire, I’m not a romantic guy. I don’t kiss and cuddle. It’s all about the sex for me. You deserve someone who kisses and cuddles. Not me. I just fuck, baby. You aren’t meant for someone like me.

There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember; and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts... There’s fennel for you, and columbines; there’s rue for you, and here’s some for me; we may call it herb of grace o’ Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference. There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they wither’d all when my father died. They say he made a good end,— [Sings.] “For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. Thought and afflictions, passion, hell itself, She turns to favor and to prettiness. Song. And will a not come again? And will a not come again? No, no, he is dead; Go to thy deathbed; He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, Flaxen was his poll. He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan. God ’a’ mercy on his soul.

I found a few springs of rosemary and returned. Ignoring the collective sigh when I appeared, I stripped off the leaves and handed them to Loren. He sniffed them in suspicion. "What's this?" I guess it would take more than my word for them to trust me, "Rosemary." No glimmer of recognition. "It's to make your stew taste better. Don't you know the basic herbs and spices?" "No. I took this job in self-defence. Quain burns everything. Belen thinks jerky is all we need to survive. Flea's idea of good meal is something that hasn't been in garbage can first. And Kerrick poisoned us---" "Not on purpose." Kerrick said. "The meat looked done.

I sank down onto the bed against the headboard and leaned back. I crossed my legs underneath me. "Then we'll talk." I said with a smile. Rush sat down onto the bed and leaned back against the wall. A deep chuckle came from his chest and I watched as a real smile broke out on his face. "I can't believe I just begged a female to sit and talk to me." In all honesty, I couldn't either.

Voicemail #1: “Hi, Isabel Culpeper. I am lying in my bed, looking at the ceiling. I am mostly naked. I am thinking of … your mother. Call me.” Voicemail #2: The first minute and thirty seconds of “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You” by the Bee Gees. Voicemail #3: “I’m bored. I need to be entertained. Sam is moping. I may kill him with his own guitar. It would give me something to do and also make him say something. Two birds with one stone! I find all these old expressions unnecessarily violent. Like, ring around the rosy. That’s about the plague, did you know? Of course you did. The plague is, like, your older cousin. Hey, does Sam talk to you? He says jack shit to me. God, I’m bored. Call me.” Voicemail #4: “Hotel California” by the Eagles, in its entirety, with every instance of the word California replaced with Minnesota. Voicemail #5: “Hi, this is Cole St. Clair. Want to know two true things? One, you’re never picking up this phone. Two, I’m never going to stop leaving long messages. It’s like therapy. Gotta talk to someone. Hey, you know what I figured out today? Victor’s dead. I figured it out yesterday, too. Every day I figure it out again. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I feel like there’s no one I can —” Voicemail #6: “So, yeah, I’m sorry. That last message went a little pear-shaped. You like that expression? Sam said it the other day. Hey, try this theory on for size: I think he’s a dead British housewife reincarnated into a Beatle’s body. You know, I used to know this band that put on fake British accents for their shows. Boy, did they suck, aside from being assholes. I can’t remember their name now. I’m either getting senile or I’ve done enough to my brain that stuff’s falling out. Not so fair of me to make this one-sided, is it? I’m always talking about myself in these things. So, how are you, Isabel Rosemary Culpeper? Smile lately? Hot Toddies. That was the name of the band. The Hot Toddies.” Voicemail #20: “I wish you’d answer.

You stay away from her. Do you hear me? Back the fuck off. Blaire loves me; she’s just confused and hurt. She’s also very vulnerable. So help me God, if you even think you’re going to take advantage of her current state I will beat the shit out of you.

I held his gaze. I could see the storm in his eyes. I knew he was confused. I could see the fear. Then there was the love. I saw it. The fierceness in his eyes. I believed it. I could see it clearly. But it was too late now. The love wasn't enough. Everyone always said that love was enough. It wasn't. Not when your soul was shattered.

She felt a little betrayed and sad, but presently a moving object came into sight. It was a huge horse-chestnut tree in full bloom bound for the Champs Elysees, strapped now into a long truck and simply shaking with laughter - like a lovely person in an undignified position yet confident none the less of being lovely. Looking at it with fascination, Rosemary identified herself with it, and laughed cheerfully with it, and everything all at once seemed gorgeous.

Three kinds of women in this world. The kind that suck you dry and leave you with nothing. The kind that only want a good time. And the kind that make life worth a damn. That last kind . . . the right woman’s the one who gives as much as she takes, and you can’t get enough. She’s the kind . . . if you lose her, you lose yourself.

Blaire, This teardrop represents many things. The tears I know you’ve shed over holding your mother’s piece of satin. The tears you’ve shed over each loss you’ve experienced. But it also represents the tears we’ve both shed as we’ve felt the little life inside you begin to move. The tears I’ve shed over the fact I’ve been given someone like you to love. I never imagined anyone like you Blaire. But every time I think about forever with you I’m humbled that you chose me. This is your something blue. I love you, Rush

The Kitchen           Half a papaya and a palmful of sesame oil; lately, your husband’s mind has been elsewhere.   Honeyed dates, goat’s milk; you want to quiet the bloating of salt.   Coconut and ghee butter; he kisses the back of your neck at the stove.   Cayenne and roasted pine nuts; you offer him the hollow of your throat.   Saffron and rosemary; you don’t ask him her name.   Vine leaves and olives; you let him lift you by the waist.   Cinnamon and tamarind; lay you down on the kitchen counter.   Almonds soaked in rose water; your husband is hungry.   Sweet mangoes and sugared lemon; he had forgotten the way you taste. Sour dough and cumin; but she cannot make him eat, like you.

It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.

I think that everyone's life is controlled by a series of events. They choose what they want and if it is in their control they can reach it. Sometimes luck shines on them and sometimes it doesn't. I also think accidents happen and we are placed in situations where we have to do things for those we love that we don't want to do.

Blaire, This was my grandmother’s. My father’s mother. She came to visit me before she passed away. I have fond memories of her visits and when she passed on she left this ring to me. In her will I was told to give it to the woman who completes me. She said it was given to her by my grandfather who passed away when my dad was just a baby but that she’d never loved another the way she’d loved him. He was her heart. You are mine. This is your something old. I love you, Rush

Don't miss out on the love of a good women,son. No matter what that old man of yours tells you,love is real.I'd have never had the success in my life without the women right there.She's been my backbone.She's been my reason for everything I've ever done.One day your drive to make a name for yourself will begin to drift away. It won't be that important anymore.But when you're doing it for someone else, someone you would move heaven and earth for then you never lose the desire to succeed.I can't imagine this world without her in it.I don't ever want to.

I just stood there and looked up at Rush. When I’d first laid eyes on him I’d been awed at his beauty. Never had I thought that the moody playboy could have a heart the size of his underneath all that swagger. “What changed you? You’re so completely different than that guy I met back in June,” I said, smiling at his confused face. Rush reached out and slipped his hand into my hair and tangled his fingers around the strands. “This sweet, determined, sexy-as-hell blonde walked into my life and gave me a reason to live.

I’m not sure what exactly you think we’ve been through. We were best friends, then we were a couple, then my momma got sick and you needed your dick sucked so you cheated on me. I took care of my sick momma alone. No one to lean on. Then she died and I moved. I got my heart and world shattered and came home. You've been here for me. I didn’t ask you to but you have. I’m thankful for that but it doesn’t make all that other stuff go away. It doesn’t make up for the fact you deserted me when I needed you the most. So excuse me if when my world is once again about to be jerked out from under me that you aren’t the first person I run to. You haven’t earned that yet.

But if you knew that, why on earth did you marry her?" Rosemary asked. "Why?" Rhett's mouth twisted in a smile. "Because she was so full of fire and so recklessly, stubbornly brave.Because she was such a child beneath all her pretenses.Because she was unlike any woman I had ever known. She fascinated me,infuriated me, drove me mad. I loved her as consumingly as she loved him. From the day I first laid eyes on her. It was a kind of disease." There was a weight of sorrow in his voice. He bowed his head into his two hands and laughed shakily. His voice was muffled and blurred by his fingers. "What a grotesque practical joke life is. Now Ashley Wilkes is a free man and would marry Scarlett on a moment's notice, and I want to be rid of her. Naturally that makes her determined to have me. She wants only what she cannot have." Rhett raised his head. "I'm afraid," he said quietly, "afraid that it will all begin again. I know that she's heartless and completely selfish, that she's like a child who cries for a toy and then breaks it once she has it. But there are moments when she tilts her head at a certain angle, or she smiles that gleeful smile, or she suddenly looks lost-and I come close to forgetting what I know.

When you first looked at me I forgot to breathe that moment marked my hardened heart I vowed to never leave And the touch of your skin healed something deep within that left me wanting more of you the less I got the more it grew Oh I couldn't help from falling, falling for you So I'm standing here, oh girl you know After all that we've been through we couldn't let it go and as long as I'm alive, in your eyes I'll stare holding you so close I'll solemnly swear that I have fallen too far that I have fallen too far, too far for you. For you When I finally found you I finally found me that day I won't soon forget the reason for it all I'll give you a new name nothing in life will be the same the story is now complete our life and love is all we need 'Cause I couldn't help from falling falling for you So I'm standing here oh girl you know After all we've been through we couldn't let it go and as long as I'm alive, in your eyes I'll stare holding you so close I'll solemnly swear that I have fallen too far, that I have fallen too far too far for you My heart is beating begging for you this night will be a dream come true so fall, fall, fall into my arms So I'm standing here oh girl you know After all that we've been through we couldn't let it go That I have fallen too far That I have fallen too far That I have fallen too far too far for you, yeah For you...

The moon is always jealous of the heat of the day, just as the sun always longs for something dark and deep. They could see how love might control you, from your head to your toes, not to mention every single part of you in between. A woman could want a man so much she might vomit in the kitchen sink or cry so fiercly blood would form in the corners of her eyes. She put her hand to her throat as though someone were strangling her, but really she was choking on all that love she thought she’d needed so badly. What had she thought, that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, just to play with? Real love was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didn’t let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for it’s sake. She refused to believe in superstition, she wouldn’t; yet it was claiming her. Some fates are guaranteed, no matter who tries to intervene. After all I’ve done for you is lodged somewhere in her brain, and far worse, it’s in her heart as well. She was bad luck, ill-fated and unfortunate as the plague. She is not worth his devotion. She wishes he would evaporate into thin air. Maybe then she wouldn’t have this feeling deep inside, a feeling she can deny all she wants, but that won’t stop it from being desire. Love is worth the sum of itself and nothing more. But that’s what happens when you’re a liar, especially when you’re telling the worst of these lies to yourself. He has stumbled into love, and now he’s stuck there. He’s fairly used to not getting what he wants, and he’s dealt with it, yet he can’t help but wonder if that’s only because he didn’t want anything so badly. It’s music, it’s a sound that is absurdly beautiful in his mouth, but she won’t pay attention. She knows from the time she spent on the back stairs of the aunts’ house that most things men say are lies. Don’t listen, she tells herself. None if it’s true and none of it matters, because he’s whispering that he’s been looking for her forever. She can’t believe it. She can’t listen to anything he tells her and she certainly can’t think, because if she did she might just think she’d better stop. What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She’d have to feel so much, and she’s not that kind. The greatest portion of grief is the one you dish out for yourself. She preferred cats to human beings and turned down every offer from the men who fell in love with her. They told her how sticks and stones could break bones, but taunting and name-calling were only for fools. — & now here she is, all used up. Although she’d never believe it, those lines in *’s face are the most beautiful part about her. They reveal what she’s gone through and what she’s survived and who exactly she is, deep inside. She’s gotten back some of what she’s lost. Attraction, she now understands, is a state of mind. If there’s one thing * is now certain of, it’s house you can amaze yourself by the things you’re willing to do. You really don’t know? That heart-attack thing you’ve been having? It’s love, that’s what it feels like. She knows now that when you don’t lose yourself in the bargain, you find you have double the love you started with, and that’s one recipe that can’t be tampered with. Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.

با دختري باید دوست شوی که کتاب بخواند . با دختري دوست شو که پولش را به جاي لباس خرج کتاب کند ، دختري که ليست بلندي از کتاب‌ها را براي خواندن تهيه کرده است . دختري که کارت کتابخانه سالهاي کودکيش را هنوز با خود دارد دختري را پيدا کن که اهل خواندن باشد تشخيص‌اش سخت نيست حتماً هميشه در کيفش کتابي براي خواندن دارد. کسي که به کتابفروشي،عاشقانه نگاه کند و پس از يافتن کتابي که مدت ها در جستجويش بوده،اشک شوق در چشمانش حلقه زند کسي که بوي کاغذ کاهي يک کتاب قديمي، برانگيخته‌اش کند. با دختري دوست شو که اگر در کافه منتظرت ماند،انتظارش را با خواندن کتاب پر کند حتي اگر به دروغ،از خاطره مطالعه کتاب‌هاي بزرگي نام برد که هرگز نخوانده است،تشويقش کن.چرا که او لذت اغراق را در درک و فهم تجربه مي‌کند و نه زيبايي.با دختري دوست شو که کتاب بخواند. و براي تولدش و سالگرد آشنايي،و همه‌ي اتفاق‌هاي خوب،به او کتاب هديه بده. به او نشان بده که«عشق به کلمات»را مي‌فهمي و درک مي‌کني.به او نشان بده که مي‌فهمي که او فرق واقعيت و خيال را مي‌فهمد به او،حتي اگر دروغ بگويي،دروغ‌ گفتن‌ات را درک مي‌کند.او کتاب خوانده است. او مي‌داند که انسانها فراتر از واژه‌ها هستند و در رفتارشان،هزار انگيزه و ارزش و گريز ناگزير پنهان است.او لغزش و خطاي تو را بهتر از ديگران درک خواهد کرد با او،حتي اگر خطا کني،بهتر مي‌فهمد او کتاب خوانده است و مي‌داند که انسانها هرگز کامل نيستند.در کنار او اگر شکست بخوري،او مي‌فهمد او زياد خوانده است و مي‌داند که راه موفقيت،‌با شکست سنگفرش شده.او رويا پرداز نيست و با هر شکست،محکم‌تر از قبل کنارت مي‌ماند اگر با دختري دوست شدي که اهل خواندن بود، کنارش باش.اگر ديدي نيمه شب،برخاسته و کتابي در دست،گريه مي‌کند،در آغوشش بگير.برايش فنجاني چاي بياور.بگذار در دنياي خودش بماند با دختري دوست شو که اهل خواندن باشد. او برايت حرف‌هاي متفاوت خواهد زد و دنيايي متفاوت خواهد ساخت غم‌هاي عميق و شادي‌هاي بزرگ هديه خواهد آورد او براي فرزندانت نام‌هايي متفاوت و شگفت خواهد گذاشت.او به آنها سليقه‌اي متفاوت و متمايز هديه خواهد کرد او مي‌تواند براي فرزندانت تصوير زيبايي از دنيا بسازد.زيباتر از آنچه هست با دختري دوست شو که اهل خواندن باشد چون تو لياقت چنين دختري را داري تو لياقت داري با کسي دوست شوي که زندگيت را با تصوير‌هاي زيبا رنگ زند اگر چيزي فراتر از دنيا را مي‌خواهي، با دختري دوست شو که اهل خواندن باشد . یا بهتر از آن ، با دختری دوست شو که می نویسد.