Samantha King Quotes

Negative people feed off of your anger, let them starve.

Born to love, cursed to feel.

May your hand never feel lonely But if it should, my friend, know that my hand is always yours to hold

If you want something different You have to stop accepting what you’re used to

You may not believe it, but it is what I desire the most in the world. This place has afflicted me with a terrible wanderlust. I long for the fire, for the sights you have seen. Yet here I am, two hundred years after I arrived. Still a prisoner, though I masquerade as a king.

I'm ashamed that I crawled into the closet that you built for me Believing I deserve no more than that

So often we are defined by what we've done and the mistakes we've made For once I would like to be Measured by the steps I took today Rather than the footprints of yesterday

The old jukebox was playing one of Wild Bill’s favorites, Nat King Cole’s, “Smile”—so I knew I was in the right place. I paused a moment to listen to the words, blinking back tears. Intuitively, I knew Wild Bill wouldn’t want to see Sam crying, so I headed to the phone affixed to the wall, pretending to be chatting up an old friend. My fingers traced graffiti on the walls, phone numbers, and hearts with initials engraved inside. Gathering my emotions, I waited for the song to end.

Comfort When I hit that wall, and I am going to hit it As I’m lying on the floor consumed by despair don’t try and pick me up don’t whisper words of comfort Don’t tell me it’s going to be ok Let me be in this moment where I think it’s not Lie beside me and let me find hope in the comfort of your presence Let me deal with my thoughts and fears I will eventually reprimand myself for indulging in such an emotion for so long I will want to get up and keep moving forward Until then, let me lie here and let the salt of my tears sting the wounds you can’t see Until I’m ready, let me be I have to heal myself

I want to inject the essence of you into my veins and get lost in the quakes of your past High

There is growth in pain You

The vile John Morton, who was now Archbishop of Canterbury, had created a process of extortion known as “Morton’s Fork.” If a man was well off, he had plenty to share with his king. If he had little, he was adept at getting along on less and could give to the king.

Perhaps the year and a half spent trying to make sense of all this has finally drained me Maybe, just maybe, I always know I deserved better, but was too afraid to accept it

The scary part is I knew exactly how bad you were for me and yet that didn't stop me from loving you

How much did bro tell you?" "Bro?" "The White King.

Ugh.” Joss strode by them. “You men need to grow up. Mothers have sex lives too. How do you think you were born?” “Like Jesus,” Alistair said straight-faced. “And no other fucker is telling me different.

I need you to be happy more than I need you to be here.” Maggie

Ruth does love Jesus, same way she loves Lincoln, Robin Hood, Martin Luther King, and Nat. Handsome men who fight for justice.

I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” “Well I’m sure enough for the both of us.

I can’t promise what will happen in the future; no one can. But I can promise that I want to be with you.

I can’t imagine ever loving another woman the way that I love you.

Craig.” I tried to plead as lust and desire fogged my brain. “Please, just leave me alone.” “But I can’t seem to help myself,” he murmured seconds before his lips brushed gently over mine.

Perfect You’re a beautiful kind of madness a misunderstood truth O, the things they could learn from the darkness that is hidden behind your eyes So gifted, yet your talents are wasted you gave up chasing dreams Reality hit and you got a taste of failure Cautious now about bearing your soul For if others saw you fully exposed they may not love you like they claim to Time and experience have taught you to trust no one Friends, lovers, and even family have forsaken you You keep the shattered pieces of your heart in a box Stitching, gluing, and staying up all night trying to put it back together Attempting to fill the void that was left Moving from one man to the next It seems no one can satisfy the appetite for affection that you seek Continually picking at old wounds they never heal properly You have no real home, too restless to stay in one place You are reckless, selfish, stubborn, sometimes rude You’ve bottled up the pain of so much that has been done When you’re hurt You close into yourself, shut down You love attention and yet love being by yourself more May God have mercy on your soul For you are truly lost Daily you fight your demons Yet no one knows of that which you endure You bear it alone, never speaking of it You can blame the broken home from which you came Or the environment that you grew up in The people who tore you down so young You can point the finger at those who have whispered behind your back They all have played a role in your development But looking so deep into the past will keep you from moving forward You must love yourself more than these people claim they do Look at where you stand now No one can know the things you have endured like you You’ve never claimed to be perfect Your flaws tell your story There is no need to hide them

Not that I have to explain myself, but I’m single because I want to be single. … I don’t need you to think a certain way about me. In fact, you’ve made it pretty clear how little you think of me. I don’t care.” She shook her head, her fierceness electrifying the air between them. “I am epic, and if a guy plays his cards right, I know how to make him feel like a goddamn king.

She didn’t heed the warning. “So they pay for everything? Doesn’t that make you feel guilty?” Every f**king day. “Was it your money that bought those Louboutin’s… or Braden’s?” Ellie choked on her laughter, smothering the sound quickly in a gulp of her drink. I patted her on the back, aiding her in her pretense. When I looked back at Holly she was glaring at me, her face flushed red to her hairline. Point made. Question deflected. Spoiled bitch put in her place. “So people can get married at Stirling Castle, huh?” I turned back to Jenna and our earlier conversation. “I’ve only visited it once, but it’s a beautiful venue…

Why are you running from this?” I pushed against his chest. “Because I’m not this person. I don’t do one-night stands.” “Maybe I’m not asking for that.” He glared at me. I eased away from him, pushing my dress back into place. “You want me because you can’t have me.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t fucking tell me what I’m feeling.

I spoke out of fear and you ignored me I spoke out of pain and you didn’t listen I spoke out of love and you walked away So now I speak of nothing

Before their eventual divorce I was spoiled and coddled and feted and fed Frosted Flakes in front of the television like King Shit of Fuck Mountain.

I drew my gaze up from his throbbing erection and he grinned and winked at me like the cocky son of a bitch he was.

I want to be singed by your passion Release

Dear . . . You’re the poem I couldn’t finish The journey I should have never started I saw tragedy in our ending My pen bled its heart out trying to change it But you were the fight I didn’t want to lose The addiction I didn’t want to quit Yet there was only one of us holding on I wasn’t attached to the man you are But the one you could be I tried to build where there was no foundation Create a fairy tale on blank pages But some stories need not be told, let alone written You’ll read my words and won’t be moved Your arrogance will not soften You won’t be changed Your heart, if you should have one, will not bend or break The worst part of it all Is this poem is about you and you’ll never even know it

When our eyes met again Craig’s were filled with something…something I couldn’t quite identify. “What?” I said softly. “I think you just might be more than a little magnificent,” he said.

Please tell me you are not fooling around with a Jinn King?" He telepathed,disbelieving Trey's utter stupidity. His friend's smirk slipped but his eyes still glittered with humor. "Fine I won't tell you.

I’ve always gotten satisfaction in getting a woman off. Some guys don’t care as long as they get their rocks off. Well, I care. But with you it’s different. I fucking care. I need to know this was more than whatever you’ve had before.

Ghosts of New York I would like to think that they all have their own stories But we never ask, we don’t even know their names Or what has brought them to their knees and humbled them enough to sleep on the floor of a station Or sit on a train all night long just to have somewhere warm to sleep They are gawked at people will leave their presence to avoid the smell but they have nowhere to wash their bodies On those days when you’ve argued with your boss or a friend, something didn’t go your way and you think you have it bad, They are walking, breathing, living evidence that someone out there truly has it worse We’ve made ourselves so cold, so immune that we’ve taken the humanity out of what’s happening in front of us So yes, I would like to believe that when I give them that dollar they aren’t going to use it to put a needle in their arm and if they should, who am I to judge? Maybe when you’re already that low all there is left to live for is chasing that high

Fool Me Twice I took a risk by reinvesting myself I took an even bigger one when I began to care But I tightened the knot of the noose around my neck When I began to Love you again You kicked the chair out from under me So I didn't even have to jump

Thinking Out Loud So self-destructive I’m waiting for the implosion  For the Universe’s infinite wisdom to cave in my chest and abolish all my fears  To be driven so deep into the possibilities that I am blinded by the light  Until all I can do is close my eyes and be forced to once again dream genuinely Before the day of naysayers and doubts  I’m in the stairwell hiding from the people hiding from the noise  Can they see my insecurities as vividly as I do?  Do they possess that kind of vision?  Or are they so lost in their own self-turmoil that they don’t even notice I’m defeated, depleted A remnant of a dreamer gone mad A hopeless romantic who hasn’t been fed An artist starving for Life, to Live 

You stole my voice How could I let you? Silencing my own thoughts and dreams Because they were so loud they drowned you out You stole my time How could I give it so easily? Hours were toiled over what you were doing whether or not you really loved me Minutes were spent in your presence while it was only for seconds that I was actually happy You stole my pride I became a fool, your own personal jester For I would rather see you smile than taste the bitterness of my tears when I was without you You stole my love Why me? Why you? Why now? I didn’t know I was giving it Until it was already gone Even when my mind was screaming “You know better” I may have suffered but in the end have won For you had to take all these things And now are left with nothing While I have learned my lesson

This is forever.” Pulling back to see her expression, Craig was gratified to see the surprise in her eyes. “You really think so?” she whispered back. “Aye,” he told her as he kissed her sweet mouth. “I can’t lose you again. No matter what happens I will fight like fuck to keep you.” Rain gave him a slow, sweet, and slightly smug smile that made him laugh. “And so the realist becomes a romantic.” He

Truth is often something we rewrite in our heads over time. We have a memory of a certain day, perhaps, or a particular event, but sometimes it is only that we've seen a photo of it. Our brain has constructed an entire narrative around a single image. It's quite remarkable. One snapshot can conjure up a whole sequence of events that may or may not have taken place. Smells can often trigger the same process in the unconscious mind. Sounds, too.

[S]ometimes I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to walk this path. Not worthy of it.' 'Wulf, you must end this eternal quest to be worthy. We've never needed to do anything to make Father or Pa proud. [...] You've chosen a hard path, and there's a reason there are six virtues. If it weren't hard to follow them all at once, we'd all be saints, now, wouldn't we? [...] Be generous to yourself. If your gravest vice is to seek comfort in cold places, the Saint will forgive you. As will the king.

We peeled out with a screech, Ice Cube bumping from the brand-new speakers she’d proudly installed herself. Naperville is a relatively wealthy and predominantly Republican suburb a little over an hour outside of Chicago, and I knew I was in trouble the minute I saw how many churches we were driving past as we exited the tollway. Seriously, it was like church, church, Burger King that whole families actually sit down and eat dinner in, church, church, Walmart, church. We saw at least 137 churches in a two-mile stretch, and that was only after I’d actually started counting them.

I have selected the twenty most relevant and have also included a lengthy one from her to a Paul Jellinek. Please familiarize yourself with them prior to my arrival. I suggest you clear your calendar for the rest of the day and week. I look forward to meeting you at the Visitor Center. With your full cooperation, we are hoping to keep Microsoft out of it. Yours, Marcus Strang P.S.: We all love your TEDTalk. I’d love to see the latest on Samantha 2 if time permits. PART FOUR Invaders MONDAY, DECEMBER 20 Police report filed by night manager at the Westin Hotel STATE OF WASHINGTON CIRCUIT COURT KING COUNTY STATE OF WASHINGTON -vs.- Audrey Faith Griffin I, Phil Bradstock, an officer with the Seattle Police Department, having been first duly sworn in, on oath, state that:

A small figure in crimson stood before the bench, sleeves rolled to the elbow, muttering. Dumai cleared her throat. “Master Kiprun?” The alchemist whipped around. He wore round amber panes over his eyes, clipped to his nose, huge and misty with steam. “I did ask for duck feathers,” he said, in a tone of sincere annoyance. Dumai could only blink. His cheeks were flushed, threads of hair were stuck to his forehead, and he brandished a grey feather. “You brought me goose feathers. Goose,” he barked, making her jump. “You do know the difference between a duck and a goose, don’t you? One quacks and the other honks, not to mention the neck. The neck alone—” “Master Kiprun,” Kanifa interjected, “this is Noziken pa Dumai, Crown Princess of Seiiki.” The alchemist sleeved the fog from his eyeglasses. “Ah. Yes.” He interlocked his fingers. Each bore a ring of a different metal: gold, iron, copper. “Princess Dumai. I am Master Kiprun, who shines—well, flickers really—for the Munificent Empress. And you?” he said to Kanifa. “Who are you, the Prince of Seiiki?” “No.” Kanifa cleared his throat. “I’m just a guard, a friend to Princess Dumai. Not a noble.” “Is it not noble to be a guard?” Master Kiprun wafted a brown hand, webbed with scars from burns, like his arms. “No matter. I never understand these things. Yes, your message caught my interest, Princess Dumai of the Faraway Isle. You don’t look much like a princess,” he said, cocking his head. “Aren’t you suppose to wear a crown, or something?” Dumai reunited with her tongue. “Well,” she said, indicating her headpiece, “this is—” “Madam, that is a fish.” After a moment, Dumai decided not to kick against the current. “It is a fish,” she agreed, taking a step toward him. “My fish and I flew here to seek your help, Master Kiprun.” “Yes, I did fear as much. Last time, it was a king who disturbed my work. He found me in the mountains, just to annoy me.” The alchemist snorted. “Once, it was the poor who sought my services, asking me to turn grass to gold. They were, at least, polite, if wildly optimistic. Now I am summoned hither and thither, disturbed by everyone from Golümtan to Ginura.

King gathered my clothes up off the floor and turned his back as I slipped my body into them. When I stood, King turned to me and lifted his hand to my face.

Sometimes, people need to know that they aren’t alone and that they can lean on someone when needed.

I will minimize your place in my life till your absence is no longer an issue.

People always ask "When did you know?" It could have been when I woke up and watched you rest peacefully beside me Or all those times I learned how much we're alike But it was when we had that fight I wanted to cry and laugh hysterically We didn't leave We sat in silence The reason behind it all is so small I knew then just how much I loved you And as you crossed over and merely wrapped me in your arms I knew just how much you loved me

They’re called goodwill ballrooms,” Samantha said from the edge of the table. “Everybody knows that. They’re quite common. It’s so visiting ambassadors and other dignitaries can be entertained without the danger of assassination. You can touch one another if you wish, but it is a light touch. It’s in such a room where I met my king. We had to wait until after the party before we could be together.” She sighed dramatically. “When I reunite with my body and find my sweet child, I’ll get back to him one day. We’ll have a happy, normal family.” She suddenly rolled across the table and stopped in front of Louis and started making weird, growling noises up at him. He started to back away, surprised. “My king is a fan of swapping partners, just so you know,” she said up to Louis. “Maybe we can talk your fiancée into portraying my bitch of a mother. Then we can have some fun.” Then she did some Hannibal Lecter thing with her tongue, causing everyone in the room to stop and look at the talking sex doll head.

Samantha

I’m amazed by the emotions Samantha’s touch stirs in my chest. Pride, protectiveness, empathy – but mostly the attraction I felt for her when she first started as my PA comes back in full force.

Have you always lived in New York?” she asks. “Yes.” “And your mom?” I shake my head. “She passed away last year.” “I’m sorry,” Samantha whispers. “It’s okay. She was eighty-one when she passed, and she had a full life.

Ugh.” Joss strode by them. “You men need to grow up. Mothers have sex lives too. How do you think you were born?” “Like Jesus,” Alistair said straight-faced. “And no other fucker is telling me different.

The Shadow King grunted. “Thank you, Shadow,” he mimicked White, “For coming to my aid. Oh, you’re so welcome, brother.” He rolled his eyes. “Ungrateful swine.” Young, Samantha (2012-06-19). Borrowed Ember (Fire Spirits Book 3) (Kindle Locations 5415-5416). . Kindle Edition.

Turning conversationally to Glass, the Red King’s lips twitched in amusement. “Did you know Ari attempted to save my life?” Seeming equally amused by this, Glass replied, “Did she now?” “Mmm,” Red mused and flashed Ari a smile. “It would appear she quite likes me.” Young, Samantha (2013-04-20). Darkness, Kindled (Fire Spirits) (Kindle Locations 4135-4139). . Kindle Edition.

Whatever I have done, you should really blame Red for it.” Shadow shrugged, his smile ominous and sharp, like that of a shark’s. His expressions were richer than his brothers, more somehow— as if he did not know how to hide his feelings. He reminded Charlie of The Gleaming King in that respect. “He told me to stop sitting around for White to tell me what to do. So I went to White and told him what to do.” “Ari, isn’t here.” Red curled his lip in disgust at him. “You’re really quite crap at this aren’t you, Shadow?” Young, Samantha (2012-06-19). Borrowed Ember (Fire Spirits Book 3) (Kindle Locations 3934-3941). . Kindle Edition.

My Hebrew teachers said I should like Esther for saving the Jews, but I was more interested in the bit before that, where she gets her king by winning a beauty contest. I imagined her as pretty as Sleeping Beauty, but a brunette. With green eyes. All right, I imagined her as a gorgeous, grown-up version of myself. And she was Jewish, and she did become a queen. (At Hebrew school, we skated over the fact that she married a man who wasn’t Jewish. Everything was forgivable in a heroine who saved the Jews.) Later,

I've learned to face my demons, I'm just learning that not everyone can handle them.

You think I'm a loser!" Dagou yells. "Am I a loser for keeping us alive when all the decent places are moving to the strip? I keep your business going. You pay me almost nothing. My salary is a joke. I want an equal share of the profits." "Big man," sneers Leo. Ming knows Dagou will turn to Winnie a second before he does it. He always runs to their mother. "He grown up now," Winnie says. "Let him have his share." "You stay out of this! You gave up the business when you left it for this menstruation hut!" The table erupts. "Lay off it." "Don't talk to her like that!" "This is a Spiritual House." Leo pushes back his chair. Standing, he has the look of a beast on its hind legs: hairy, primitive, his long arms hanging almost to his knees. It isn't just the dark, unshaven hair sprouting in patches on his cheeks. There is something hungry yet remote in his close-set eyes. Everyone can see it. Some of them shrink back and turn away. Ming knows this eerie quality well. It has been there in his father for as long as he can remember. Long ago, he learned to escape its worst, to allow other members of the family to confront it. Now he climbs up into a place of refuge in his mind. A kind of hunting blind, where he can watch and wait. From above, Ming watches his brother. Dagou has the blank expression of someone who is only just becoming aware of what he's done. "'Don't talk to her like that,'" their father jeers. "Mama's boy! And you..." He grins wickedly at Winnie. Despite her vow of tranquility, she appears ready to bolt from her chair. The nuns seated on either side hold on to her arms. "You think he's still your diaper-filling lamb. You haven no idea what a dog he is. Ask him why he needs money now. Ask him. Ask him." Dagou looks around the table. "It's true I've fallen in love," he announces. "My whole life is changing." He pauses importantly. People stare at their plates. "Christ," says their father. "All this fuss over a decent fuck." The nuns gasp. Now Dagou's chair creaks, and he also rises to his feet. He is enormous and he swells with rage. His shoulders tense. He points at his father and his finger is shaking. It could be that he has decided, once and for all, to take down Big Chao. As the Sons of Liberty rose against King George. As the sons turned on Chronos, as he himself turned upon Uranus. So it will be in the family Chao.

Even though I have legitimate businesses, I’m still a criminal. I don’t think being one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra will carry any weight with Samantha.

Samantha is quiet for a moment before she continues to talk. “I used to work at a hospital in Houston. I met a neurosurgeon there…

Franco Vitale; 35. Samantha Blakely; 26.

Amanda shuffles backward, crab-walking toward the king bed, but the ape from hell plods straight through the canvas slit, its body hunched over but still held upright by two muscular legs blanketed with thick, shaggy hair.

Violet

walked

be.

for

slowly.

just

the

And there hasn't been a one time in mine that I've been good enough for Bailey, but we fu*king make it work. That's what love is ! She makes you better, and you take care of her.

The King of Hollywood spends the next thirty minutes making me come with his mouth and then fucking me from behind like I’m a whore, but the whole time, he still manages to make me feel like a queen.

What is the subject of the painting? his wife has written on the postcard’s reverse. Who is looking at whom? The painter at the king and queen; the king and queen at themselves in a mirror; the viewer at the king and queen in the mirror; the viewer at the painter; the painter at the viewer, the viewer at the princess, the viewer at the ladies-in-waiting? Welcome to the labyrinth of mirrors that is human life.