Scoring Wilder Quotes

She believed she could, so she did.

If only we actually were in Harry Potter. I’d totally Crucio her ass. Yeah, that’s right, I’d use one of the Unforgivable Curses. Come at me, Ministry of Magic.

More than Peanut M&Ms,

He bent down so I could hear him over the music. "What are you doing here?" he asked with a hard tone. Okay. Not the best first line. Something like, you look beautiful, have my babies would have been a little bit better.

His hand had been resting two inches above my shorts. Which is about five inches above my vagina. So... yeah, he was basically touching my vagina.

Thank you, Josh. Thank you for ruining my capacity to trust so that any guy that comes after you will automatically have the cards stacked against him.

His cologne was practically hijacking my ovulation cycle and I had to fight the urge to let my face collapse onto his shirt and inhale.

Cue dream sequence of Liam running slowly on a beach carrying me in his arms. I love how he's strong enough to carry me with one arm while using the other arm to feed the seagulls. He's such an animal lover like that.

Dude! If you scream in my ear again I will punch you in the uterus.

I was supposed to be Nancy Drew, and instead I was Nancy Draw-the-blinds-and-put-it-in-me. Wait, what?

That’s not surprising to hear. Your daughter is definitely in love with me, Mrs. Bryant. She hasn't told me yet, but she will soon.

I thought he jaunted around on yachts and baptized babies all day. Babies that would one day grow up to be swimsuit models, thanks to his touch.

I'm not playing around with you, Kinsley. I want to be with you," he whispered in my ear before releasing my arm. I stumbled into the hallway, trying to gather my wits.

Kinsley Grace Bryant, you crazy beautiful loon, marry me so we can make hundreds of little soccer prodigies.

Being alone with him was a bad idea, like playing around water when you can’t swim.

Oh, oops, how'd we get into this adorable position? Strategic planing, my friend.

He was the northern star. I had no choice but to become enveloped in his brightness and let it coax me toward him. Wanting him was an unconscious impulse, like taking my next breath.

Kinsley, I'v never liked any girl more than I like M&Ms." "Am I getting close?" I joked. "I'd say I like you more than regular M&Ms, but you're going to have to really step it up if you want to beat out peanut M&Ms.

Cheat on me once, shame on him. Cheat on me twice... what the actual fuck is going on?

I know, I know. They should make a hallmark card for that experience since it’s so cliché: “Whoops, sorry your high school boyfriend can’t keep it in his pants… here’s a cute puppy wearing a bowtie.

Oh weird… I was there with Leonardo DiCaprio. He must have been in the bathroom when Sofie was spying on me," I

I know what it means to value the person you're with.

He seemed like the type that kept people at arm's length, maybe out of arrogance or maybe from personal choice- either way, I wanted to know him so that those eyes were narrowed and focused solely on me.

Fiiiine, but don't forget to use protection... you don't want your computer getting a virus,

Can I say I’m a reformed bad boy without sounding like a tool?

In glades they meet skull after skull/Where pine-cones lay--the rusted gun,/Green shoes full of bones, the mouldering coat/And cuddled-up skeleton;/And scores of such. Some start as in dreams,/And comrades lost bemoan:/By the edge of those wilds Stonewall had charged--/But the Year and the Man were gone. ("The Armies of the Wilderness")

We’ll take as long as you want. We can be engaged until you turn ninety-nine and you can’t even walk down the aisle. I’ll carry you or wheel you down. Just tell me you’ll marry me.

No, I assure you. I have yet to have a relationship in real life, but I've read lots of Cosmo and I used to take a ton of those quizzes about love." "Wow... that's really reassuring. NOT.

Little did they know I wasn’t above backing over nasty reporters. Spoiler: the rest of this story takes place from a jail cell.

When I was with him, there were no consequences

The mind of Caesar. It is the reverse of most men's. It rejoices in committing itself. To us arrive each day a score of challenges; we must say yes or no to decisions that will set off chains of consequences. Some of us deliberate; some of us refuse the decision, which is itself a decision; some of us leap giddily into the decision, setting our jaws and closing our eyes, which is the sort of decision of despair. Caesar embraces decision. It is as though he felt his mind to be operating only when it is interlocking itself with significant consequences. Caesar shrinks from no responsibility. He heaps more and more upon his shoulders.

His hand had been resting just two inches above my shorts. Which is about five inches above my vagina. So… yeah, he was basically touching my vagina.

Was I willing to glue on a vijay toupee for him?

Wheat-Thinned Slut Monkey.

Remind me to never let you wear red unless it’s in our bedroom,” he smirked, taking my appearance in with a confident air. “Like the dress?” “I love the woman wearing the dress,

I just felt scared and vulnerable lying on that kitchen floor with you. You could pull the rug out from under me whenever you feel like it... whenever you're ready to move on.

I don't give a fuck what the world thinks, Kinsley. I'm so happy with you. I’m focusing on what's important. You and soccer. That's all I need.

I’m sorry, did my uterus just call out to him or am I hearing things?

Is that your gear shift or are you just excited to see me?

I love you, Kinsley Bryant. I love you because you aren't afraid to go for your dream. I love you because you had the balls to ask me to show you my tattoos when you didn't even know me. I love you because you're so talented and yet so humble. You've been given this tremendous gift and you push yourself every day to become even better. You're inspiring to be around and I love you. Please, believe that.

This is a wilderness waiting to swallow me; I'd barely make a dent trying to fight it. There are no rules for me to learn, no points to be scored, no bluffs to be called. This is a hell I've never imagined. And I think I'm going to die here.

So here’s the deal and this is what you get: The penthouse suite with world-commanding views, The banker’s bonus and the private jet, Control and ownership of all the news, An ‘in’ to that exclusive one per cent, Who know the score, who really run the show, With interest on every penny lent  And sweeteners for cronies in the know. A straight arrangement between me and you, No hell below or heaven high above, You just admit it, and give me my due, And wake up from this foolish dream of love … But Jesus laughed, ‘You are not what you seem. Love is the waking life, you are the dream.

Beyond the borders of the land that was his lay the wilderness that was its own. The upthrust stone, the shoulders of the Bighorns, reddish gray where they stood near to the homestead and blue where they stood far—bluer, dissipating veils of blue lost against an indistinct horizon. The pale gold of autumn grass like the rough hide of an animal, wind-riffled down the mountain’s flank. The low trough where the river ran, a score mark in wet clay—dark, shadow-and-green, redolent of moving water, of soil that never went dry. And the infinite sweep of the prairie, yellow shaded with folds of violet until, a hundred miles away or more, the whole plain was swallowed by color and consumed, taken up by the lower edge of a sagging purple sky.

If he loved me so much, couldn’t he have spelled out the word you?

What I am trying to tell you,” Trinka said softly, looking back at him, “is that there are good ways to live, and bad ones. This is not a matter of opinion; it is objective truth. The Empire fights the Wilders because we need their land; that’s true. But there are other reasons. We fight them because they are unworthy. They are not fit to share this world – this divine gift – with folk who do not murder children. With people who do not rape women, or make slaves of the weak. The Wilders are undeserving of the gift of life, of divine choice. They are not fit to be called Children of Bræa. Their way of life is a blight upon the earth. They may look like men, but they live, and behave, like beasts. “If they were able to learn to live like civilized folk,” she sighed, “then we would make it our business to teach them; indeed, I would account it our duty to bring them into the light. We have tried. It has been more than a century since we first began settling the frontiers beyond the mountains, and in the three-score years since Duncala, we have tried many times to bring them the gift of civilization. But if they will not learn to act like civilized men, then civilized men are not obliged to tolerate them. The whole of Bræa’s creation, her divine intent, and her gift of choice to all of us – the gift of choice that grants us the possibility, and therefore the obligation, of bettering ourselves! – cries out against tolerating what by any reasoned definition is utter, bestial depravity. “We are Bræa’s heirs, the inheritors of her divine design. We are not obliged to endure depravity,” she said gravely. “We are obliged to redeem it, if we can; but if we cannot, then our obligation – to ourselves, our posterity, and the Holy Mother’s design – is to end it.” She cocked her head. “In this wise, it might help to think of the Wilders as little different from the hordes of Bardan, whose legacy of death and devastation ended the ancient world, and plunged all into darkness for twice a thousand years.” Her fist clenched involuntarily. “We will not suffer the darkness again, Esuric Mason. My brothers...my former comrades, I mean...they will not allow it.” She looked down at her hands. For a wonder, they were steady. “I will not allow it,” she whispered. - The Wizard's Eye (Hallow's Heart, Book II; Forthcoming)

On January 3, 1745, Brainard set aside the entire day for fasting and prayer, pleading for an outpouring of spiritual power. He claimed the promise in John 7: Have faith in me, and you will have life-giving waters flowing from deep inside you.… Then he preached repeatedly from John 7, and the unfolding year proved the most fruitful of his ministry. His interpreter, an alcoholic named Tattamy, was converted. An immediate change seemed to transform Tattamy’s life and his translating of Brainard’s sermons. Scores of Indians were saved and baptized. Brainard grew weaker, and in 1747 he died at age 29 in the home of Jonathan Edwards. But his story moved his generation—Henry Martyn, William Carey, Adoniram Judson—toward missions. His diary became one of the most powerful Christian books in early American history, containing such entries as this one: Here am I, send me; send me to the ends of the earth; send me to the rough, the savage pagans of the wilderness; send me from all that is called comfort on earth; send me even to death itself, if it be but in Thy service and to promote Thy kingdom.

So pray tell,” Win said, “what is the big attraction?” “Are you for real?” “I am indeed.” “Well, here’s a news flash, Win. First off, while it’s not really important, I disagree with your awarded score.” “Oh? So how would rate Ms. Wilder?” “I’m not getting into that with you. But for one thing, Ali has the kind of looks that grow on you. At first you think she’s attractive enough, and then, as you get to know her—” “Bah.” “Bah?” “Self-rationalization.” “Well, here’s another news flash for you. It’s not all about looks.” “Bah.” “Again with the bah?” Win re-steepled his fingers. “Let’s play a game. I’m going to say a word. You tell me the first thing that pops in your head.” Myron closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I discuss matters of the heart with you. It’s like talking about Mozart with a deaf man.

5 So she brought forth a man child, which should rule all nations with a rod of iron: and that her son was taken up unto God and to his throne. 6 And the woman fled into wilderness where she hath a place prepared of God, that they should feed her there a thousand, two hundred, and three score days. 7 And there was a battle in heaven. Michael and his Angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon fought and his angels. 8 But they prevailed not, neither was their place found any more in heaven. 9 And the great dragon, that old serpent, called the devil and Satan, was cast out, which deceiveth all the world: he was even cast into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.

I loved this guy who would take on the world for me and asked for nothing in return. Well, besides my killer lovemaking.

He was now Superman. SuperSuperHotMan… and I was Supergirl.

I'd say I like you more than regular M& Ms, but you're going to have to really step it up if you want to beat out peanut M& Ms.

She believed she could so she did