“
The muse in charge of fantasy wears good, sensible shoes.
”
”
Lloyd Alexander
“
But he is an Italian," was Umberto's sensible reply. "He doesn't care if you break some law a little bit, as long as you wear beautiful shoes. Are you wearing beautiful shoes? Are you wearing the shoes I gave you?...principessa?"
I looked down at my flip-flops. "I guess I'm toast.
”
”
Anne Fortier (Juliet)
“
Who's "Ma'am"? I'd wanted to ask at first. Ma'am sounded to me like an older woman with a proper purse, good posture, and sensible shoes who was maybe sitting somewhere nearby.
But I was Ma'am. Ma'am was me.
”
”
Michelle Obama (Becoming)
“
Oh, do shut up, Martha. Wearing sensible shoes doesn’t make a woman a feminist or a lesbian any more than wearing that hideous yellow dress makes you a goddamn banana,” Violet snarked, shaking her head. “I swear with women like you, I don’t know why my mother fought so hard to win the right to vote.
”
”
Onley James (Intoxicating (Elite Protection Services, #1))
“
Remember, Charissa—the things that annoy, irritate, and disappoint us have just as much power to reveal the truth about ourselves as anything else. Learn to linger with what provokes you. You may just find the Spirit of God moving there.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
So, thought Peace, there was a wall around his heart and she wondered whether she should hoist up her skirt and scale that wall, but she knew she didn’t have the right shoes on for that sort of climb because hers were too sensible for a man like Drake.
”
”
Sarah Winman (A Year of Marvellous Ways)
“
But Benedict Bridgerton was obviously determined not to be a gentleman this afternoon, because when she moved one of her feet-just to flex her toes, which were falling asleep in her shoes, honest!-barely half a second passed before he growled, "Don't even think about it."
"I wasn't!" she protested. "My foot was falling asleep. And hurry up! It can't possibly take so long to get dressed."
"Oh?" he drawled.
"You're doing this just to torture me," she grumbled.
"You may feel free to face me at any time," he said, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "I assure you that I asked you to turn your back for the sake of your sensibilities, not mine.
”
”
Julia Quinn (An Offer From a Gentleman (Bridgertons, #3))
“
Furthermore, she had gleaned enough about sophisticated fashions from the magazines that she wouldn’t stand out in such an environment. Oh, she’d chuck away the sensible shoes and the brown jackets for something with a little more pizzazz. At a place like that some glamour wouldn’t be unexpected, would it? Just a smidgen of it.
”
”
Silvia Moreno-Garcia (Velvet Was the Night)
“
Hannah, Jesus loves you too much to let you root your identity in what you do for him, rather than who you are to him. He loves you too much to let you wrap yourself in anything other than his love for you—his deep, uncontainable, extravagant love for you.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
in her hands and wept. On Saturday night Meg dutifully set her alarm.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
Edmonton is Canada’s answer to Omaha. Solid, unassuming, and surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. It’s a place that makes you think of sensible shoes.
”
”
Kathy Reichs (Bones Are Forever (Temperance Brennan, #15))
“
The one bit of color on the woman’s body was the bright yellow of the stilettos peeking out from her sensible trousers.
Fuck me shoes. Damn. Any woman who wore those shoes had a streak of the unexpected. He wondered what her underwear looked like. Something delicate and lovely?
”
”
Lexi Blake (The Dom Who Loved Me (Masters and Mercenaries, #1))
“
We begin our journey to freedom when we go back to the places where we were spiritually, emotionally, and mentally wounded. But this time we go with God’s presence, help, and strength. No matter how frightening and messy it feels, God invites us to trust him. The Lord does some of his most beautiful work in the midst of the messiness and brokenness of our lives.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
I feel like I’ve got to start over. Like I’m this little kid who doesn’t know anything. ’Course, given where I’ve been, starting over’s not a bad thing.” She stopped to take a breath. “Is it really possible for a fifty-year-old woman to be born again, again?
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
They didn't exchange a single word. But in the weeks that followed, Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen. Even in sensible school shoes, she shuffled as though barefoot, and the baggy apparel Mrs. Lisbon bought for her only increased her appeal, as though after undressing she had put on whatever was handy. In corduroys her thighs rubbed together, buzzing, and there was always at least one untidy marvel to unravel him: an untucked shirttail, a sock with a hole, a ripped seam showing underarm hair. She carted her books from class to class but never opened them. Her pens and pencils were as temporary as Cinderella's broom. When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night Trip Fontaine dreamed of being bitten by each one.
”
”
Jeffrey Eugenides
“
Every day is a chance for new beginnings as old things die and new things are born. After all, that’s what being born again is about, right? The old self dies, and the new self in Christ is given. And that doesn’t happen only once, does it? The apostle Paul said he died every day. It’s a lifelong process of dying to sin and self and rising again with Christ.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
Think of it this way, Mara. We don’t have the power to make the sun rise, but we can choose to be awake when it happens. Spiritual disciplines help us stay awake.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
I see you go bare-shod. This is most likely extremely sensible. Shoes are no end of trouble for girls. . . . How many have danced to death in slippers of silk and glass and fur and wood? Too many to count—the graveyards, they are so full these days. You are very wise to let your soles become grubby with mud, to let them grow their own slippers of moss and clay and calluses. This is far preferable to shoes which may become wicked at any moment.
”
”
Catherynne M. Valente (In the Cities of Coin and Spice (The Orphan's Tales, #2))
“
Hey, she was his fantasy girl. She was supposed to act in an appropriate fantasy-like manner. She wasn’t supposed to look at him as though he was all her nightmares rolled up into one big pile of dog crap that she couldn’t wait to scrape off her sensible shoes. And that was only after she’d finally recognized him—which had taken far longer than it should have done considering they’d had hot, mind-blowing sex every night for a year...In his dreams.
”
”
Nina Croft (His Fantasy Girl (Things to do Before You Die…, #1))
“
The Cheerful Fairy was quite short and plump in a tweed skirt and shoes so sensible they could do their own tax returns, and was pretty much like the first teacher you get at school, the one who has special training in dealing with nervous incontinence and little boys whose contribution to the wonderful world of sharing consists largely of hitting a small girl repeatedly over the head with a wooden horse. In fact, this picture was helped by the whistle on a string around her neck and a general impression that at any moment she would clap her hands. The tiny gauzy wings just visible on her back were probably just for show, but the wizards kept on staring at her shoulder.
”
”
Terry Pratchett (Hogfather (Discworld, #20))
“
...we often imagined, as we drove, a fictional universe in which Fitzgerald's and Wodehouse's creations might visit one another. Bertie Wooster and Jeeves might have intruded on the rarefied world of the Eggs, silly-ass Bertie stepping into sensible Nick Carraway's shoes, and Reginald Jeeves the fish-eating Spinoza-loving gentleman's gentleman and genius finding a way to give Jay Gatsby the happy-ever-after ending with Daisy Buchanan for which he so profoundly longed.
”
”
Salman Rushdie (The Golden House)
“
What are your names?"
"You know our names," Violet said curtly, a word which here means "tired of Count Olaf's nonsense." "That wig and that lipstick don't fool us any more than your pale-brown dress and sensible beige shoes. You're Count Olaf.
”
”
Lemony Snicket (The Miserable Mill (A Series of Unfortunate Events, #4))
“
Self-examination isn’t about being perfect. It’s about listening and responding to the Spirit. It’s about allowing God to reveal where we are hiding and resisting his love so that we can come out from hiding to receive grace and mercy and wholeness. This isn’t about beating ourselves up, and it’s not an invitation to obsessive introspection. We can’t make ourselves whole or holy. That’s the Spirit’s work. Our work is simply to cooperate with the Spirit by saying yes to God’s movement in our lives.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes: A Story about the Spiritual Journey (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
Getting rid of the fears is never the goal,” she said. “If we fix our eyes on that, then we won’t be looking at Jesus. Drawing close to the Lord is what we’re seeking. God is always our first desire. So we focus on the perfect love and faithfulness of God instead of the depth of our fear. We meditate on how big God is. How trustworthy God is. How loving and gracious God is. And slowly . . . Slowly we discover our trust growing, and our fears shrinking—all by God’s gift and power. Always by God’s gift and power—not by our own efforts.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
She felt a glow of warm friendliness towards her, perhaps because of her rather plain, good-humoured face, her sensible felt hat, her not particularly well-cut tweed suit and her low-heeled shoes. Nothing from the ‘best houses’ here—all was as it should be in a clergyman’s wife.
”
”
Barbara Pym (Some Tame Gazelle)
“
The crowd wasn’t huge that night, maybe a couple hundred people. But as soon as she stepped onto the stage, Greta saw that her mom was right. There she was, right up front, with her thin glasses and short gray hair and sensible shoes, beaming amid a sea of college kids and hipsters dressed mostly in black. When their eyes met, Helen smiled and lifted a small white sign. Greta was in the middle of a complicated riff, but when the song came to an end, she took a few steps forward and squinted at it, trying to make out the words. GRETA’S MOM, it said in simple block lettering.
”
”
Jennifer E. Smith (The Unsinkable Greta James)
“
Checking out shoes when looking for Lesbians is an elimination device, a negative marker. Lesbians wear sensible shoes whenever possible. Irene and I have learned to pass right by a woman who looks like a Lesbian from head to ankle, but wears flimsy shoes with pointed toes and heels. She is sure to mention a husband by her second sentence.
So, what does a Lesbian look like? Well, we saw two old women drive into a campground in a large motorhome. One dog and no men accompanied them. These are Lesbian-positive clues. We seldom see old women in campgrounds unless they are accompanied by old men. They walked the dog, each wearing a long “ladies” winter coat and lipstick. We casually intercepted them.
“Nice dog,” says Irene. The dog growled. We mentioned the movie about nuclear war on TV the night before.
“They should go to Russia. Show it to the Communists,” they angrily replied. We walked on. If they were Lesbians, I did not want to know.
“Not Lesbians,” pronounced my expert. “There are Lesbians who wear ‘ladies’ coats and Lesbians who wear lipstick. There are even Lesbians who prefer nuclear war to “Godless Communism”; but Lesbians would not let their dog growl at a woman without correcting it.
”
”
Julia Penelope (Finding the Lesbians: Personal Accounts from Around the World)
“
Who do you think is angriest right now? In our country, I mean.” I shrugged. “African Americans?” She made a buzzing noise, a sort of you’re-out-but-we’ve-got-some-lovely-consolation-prizes-backstage kind of a sound. “Guess again.” “Gays?” “No, you dope. The straight white dude. He’s angry as shit. He feels emasculated.” “Honestly, Jacko.” “Of course he does.” Jackie pointed a purple fingernail at me. “You just wait. It’s gonna be a different world in a few years if we don’t do something to change it. Expanding Bible Belt, shit-ass representation in Congress, and a pack of power-hungry little boys who are tired of being told they gotta be more sensitive.” She laughed then, a wicked laugh that shook her whole body. “And don’t think they’ll all be men. The Becky Homeckies will be on their side.” “The who?” Jackie nodded at my sweats and bed-matted hair, at the pile of yesterday’s dishes in the sink, and finally at her own outfit. It was one of the more interesting fashion creations I’d seen on her in a while—paisley leggings, an oversized crocheted sweater that used to be beige but had now taken on the color of various other articles of clothing, and purple stiletto boots. “The Susie Homemakers. Those girls in matching skirts and sweaters and sensible shoes going for their Mrs. degrees. You think they like our sort? Think again.
”
”
Christina Dalcher (Vox)
“
My sisters and I stand on the deck, the shale tile cool against the soles of our feet - for a week it seems we never have to wear shoes - and take turns twirling, the matching turquoise silk skirts my mother bought us sliding coolly up our legs, our laughter flying out over the ocean. We are all light and happy and far, far away from home.
”
”
Alexandria Marzano-Lesnevich (The Fact of a Body: A Murder and a Memoir)
“
There are times when we want to be aliens and strangers, to feel how the shape of our lives is not the only shape, to drift before a catalog of possible lives, staring at the glass arcades of shoes that are sensible and of shoes for taking a chance, buses leaving town and the gray steam railway depot where men and women hurry by with their bags.
”
”
Lewis Hyde "The Gift"
“
We were always looking for the perfect man. Even those of us who were not signed up for the traditional, heteronormative experience were nevertheless fascinated with the anthropological, unicorn-like search for one. Married or single, we were either searching for him or trying to mold him from one we already had. This perfect specimen would consist of the following essential attributes: He shared his food and always ordered dessert. When we recommended a book, he bought it without needing a friend to second our suggestion first. He knew how to pack a diaper bag without being told. He was a Southern gentleman with a mother from the East Coast who fostered his quietly progressive sensibilities. He said “I love you” after 2.5 months. He didn’t get drunk. He knew how to do taxes. He never questioned our feminist ideals when we refused to squish bugs or change oil. He didn’t sit down to put on his shoes. He had enough money for retirement. He wished vehemently for male-hormonal birth control. He had a slight unease with the concept of women’s shaved vaginas, but not enough to take a stance one way or another. He thought Mindy Kaling was funny. He liked throw pillows. He didn’t care if we made more money than him. He liked women his own age. We were reasonable and irrational, cynical and naïve, but always, always on the hunt. Of course, this story isn’t about perfect men, but Ardie Valdez unfortunately didn’t know that yet when, the day after Desmond’s untimely death, Ardie’s phone lit up: a notification from her dating app.
”
”
Chandler Baker (Whisper Network)
“
Goggles but no bathing suit?" she asked.
Daniel blushed. "I guess that was stupid. But I was in a hurry, only thinking about what you would need to get the halo." He drove the paddle back into the water, propelling them more quickly than a speedboat. "You can swim in your underwear, right?"
Now Luce blushed. Under normal circumstances, the question might have seemed thrilling, something they both would have giggled at. Not these nine days. She nodded. Eight days now. Daniel was deadly serious. Luce just swallowed hard and said, "Of course."
The pair of green-gray spires grew larger, more detailed, and then they were upon them. They were tall and conical, made of rusted slats of copper. They had once been capped by small teardrop-shaped copper flags sculpted to look like they were rippling in the wind, but one weathered flag was pocked with holes, and the other had broken off completely. In the open water, the spires' protrusion was bizarre, suggesting a cavernous cathedral of the deep. Luce wondered how long ago the church had sunk, how deep it sat below.
The thought of diving down there in ridiculous goggles and mom-bought underwear made her shudder.
"This church must be huge," she said. She meant I don't think I can do this. I can't breathe underwater. How are we going to find one small halo sunk in the middle of the sea?
"I can take you down as far as the chapel itself, but only that far. So long as you hold on to my hand." Daniel extended a warm hand to help Luce stand up in the gondola. "Breathing will not be a problem. But the church will still be sanctified, which means I'll need you to find the halo and bring it out to me."
Daniel yanked his T-shirt off over his head, dropping it to the bench of the gondola. He stepped out of his pants quickly, perfectly balanced on the boat, then kicked off his tennis shoes. Luce watched, feeling something stir inside her, until she realized she was supposed to be stripping down, too. She kicked off her boots, tugged off her socks, stepped out of her jeans as modestly as she could. Daniel held her hand to help her balance; he was watching her but not the way she would have expected. He was worried about her, the goose bumps rising on her skin. He rubbed her arms when she slipped off he sweater and stood freezing in her sensible underwear n the gondola in the middle of the Venetian lagoon.
Again she shivered, cold and fear an indecipherable mass inside her. But her voice sounded brave when she tugged the goggles, which pinched, down over her eyes and said, "Okay, let's swim."
They held hands, just like they had the last time they'd swum together at Sword & Cross. As their feet lifted off the varnished floor of the gondola, Daniel's hand tugged her upward, higher than she ever could have jumped herself-and then they dove.
Her body broke the surface of the sea, which wasn't as cold as she'd expected. In fact, the closer she swam beside Daniel, the warmer the wake around them grew.
He was glowing.
”
”
Lauren Kate (Rapture (Fallen, #4))
“
I would expect such behavior from the children,not from their mother."
She tsked at him, not even a little daunted. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"
"Certainly,but I can wait until-"
"But I can't wait," she cut in passionately. "Come with me, Warren. I'll be careful with it. And if it's nothing more'n a simple gift, albeit a mysterious one, then I'll have the box wrapped up again perfectly, so no one will know we tampered with it."
"You're serious about this?" he asked. "You're actually going to sneak downstairs in the middle of the night like an errant schoolgirl-"
"No,no,we are, like two perfectly sensible adults making a reasonable effort to solve a mystery that has been around far too long."
He chuckled at that point, used to his wife's strange logic, and used to her ignoring any of his attempts at sternness.But then that was the magic of Amy.She was unlike any other woman he'd ever known.
He gave in gracefully with a smile. "Very well,fetch our robes and some shoes.I would imagine the fire has been banked in the parlor, so it will be a mite chilly."
It wasn't that long before they were standing next to The Present, Warren merely curious, Amy finding it hard to contain her excitement, considering what she expected to find beneath the pretty cloth wrapping.The parlor wasn't chilly at all,since whoever had lef the room last had closed the doors to contain the earlier warmth, and Warren had closed them again before he lit several of the lamps.
But the doors opened once more, giving Amy quite a start since she was just reaching for The Present when it happened, and Jeremy said as he entered the room, "Caught in the act,eh? Amy,for shame."
Amy,noticeably embarrassed despite the fact that Jeremy wasn't just her cousin, but one of her closest friends, said stiffly, "And what,pray tell, are you doing down here at this hour?"
He winked at her and said dryly, "Same thing you are, I would imagine."
She chuckled then. "Scamp. Close the door while you're at it."
He started to,but stepped out of the way instead as Reggie sauntered in, barefoot and still in the process of tying her bed robe. When everyone else there just stared at her, she huffed indignantly, "I did not come down here to open The Present-well, maybe I did, but I would have chickened out before actually doing so."
"What a whopper, Reggie," Derek said as he came in right behind her. "Nice try, though. Mind if I borrow that lame excuse? Better than having none a'tall.
”
”
Johanna Lindsey (The Holiday Present)
“
If our cultural lives are sick, it is likely to be an impediment to our spiritual lives. Much popular culture promotes a spirit of restlessness. That is likely to be an obstacle to prayer, to concerned reflection, and to attentiveness to the needs of others. Popular culture also has an extremely limited range of sensibilities. I have never heard a work of popular music that has the depth of poignancy of the opening bars of Brahms's 'German Requiem,' for example, with its text, 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.' I learn something about mourning when I hear Brahms; I know of no similar lessons in popular music.
”
”
Kenneth A. Myers (All God's Children and Blue Suede Shoes: Christians and Popular Culture (Turning Point Christian Worldview))
“
I watch people sometimes, wonder how they can walk around with the weight of what they know. Wonder if they feel like me, stumbling with lead shoes on the bottom of the ocean, swimming in a sea of the unsayable. It's a mistake we make, thinking it's words that tell us everything. It's sound that breaks glasses, cracks windows, sends cats up trees. Bats hear more than humans, understand more noise, let alone dogs. Maybe we're just not getting it, standing here listening for sensible speech, dying of loneliness and waiting for whatever it is. How do we know we're not calling and calling all the time, our throats so tight with it, it's too high to hear? At night I hear dogs barking, and think how much of their howling is outside my conscious range, so that I feel it like a vibration but mistake it for silence?
”
”
Cate Kennedy (Dark Roots)
“
So,” I cleared my throat, unable to tolerate his moans of pleasure and praise any longer, “uh, what are your plans for the weekend?”
“The weekend?” He sounded a bit dazed.
“Yes. This weekend. What do you have planned? Planning on busting up any parties?” I asked lightly, not wanting him to know that I was unaccountably breathless. I moved to his other knee and discarded the towel.
“Ha. No. Not unless those wankers down the hall give me a reason to.” Removing his arms from his face, Bryan’s voice was thick, gravelly as he responded, “I, uh, have some furniture to assemble.”
“Really?” Surprised, I stilled and stared at the line of his jaw. The creases around his mouth—when he held perfectly still—made him look mature and distinguished. Actually, they made him even more classically handsome, if that was even possible.
“Yes. Really. Two IKEA bookshelves.”
I slid my hands lower, behind his ankle, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, I prompted, “That’s it?”
“No.” He sighed, hesitated, then added, “I need to stop by the hardware store. The tap in my bathroom is leaking and one of the drawer handles in the kitchen is missing a screw. I just repainted the guest room, so I have to take the excess paint cans to the chemical disposal place; it’s only open on Saturdays before noon. And then I promised my mam I’d take her to dinner.”
My mouth parted slightly because the oddest thing happened as he rattled off his list of chores.
It turned me on.
Even more so than running my palms over his luscious legs.
That’s right. His list of adult tasks made my heart flutter.
I rolled my lips between my teeth, not wanting to blurt that I also needed to go to the hardware store over the weekend. As a treat to myself, I was planning to organize Patrick’s closet and wanted to install shelves above the clothes rack. Truly, Sean’s penchant for buying my son designer suits and ties was completely out of hand. Without some reorganization, I would run out of space.
That’s right. Organizing closets was something I loved to do. I couldn’t get enough of those home and garden shows, especially Tiny Houses, because I adored clever uses for small spaces. I was just freaky enough to admit my passion for storage and organization.
But back to Bryan and his moans of pleasure, adult chores, and luscious legs.
I would not think about Bryan Leech adulting. I would not think about him walking into the hardware store in his sensible shoes and plain gray T-shirt—that would of course pull tightly over his impressive pectoral muscles—and then peruse the aisles for . . . a screw.
I. Would. Not.
Ignoring the spark of kinship, I set to work on his knee, again counting to distract myself. It worked until he volunteered, “I’d like to install some shelves in my closet, but that’ll have to wait until next weekend. Honestly, I’ve been putting it off. I’d do just about anything to get someone to help me organize my closet.” He chuckled.
I’d like to organize your closet.
I fought a groan, biting my lip as I removed my hands, turned from his body, and rinsed them under the faucet.
“We’re, uh, finished for today.
”
”
L.H. Cosway (The Cad and the Co-Ed (Rugby, #3))
“
St. Just lifted his mug and peered into the contents. “Higgins explained that Goliath is a horse of particulars. Westhaven, did Valentine spit in my mug?” Westhaven rolled his eyes as he glanced at first one brother then the other. “For God’s sake, nobody spat in your damned mug. Pass the butter and drop the other shoe. What manner of horse of particulars is Sophie’s great beast?” “He does not like to travel too far from Sophie. He’ll tool around Town all day with Sophie at the ribbons. He’ll take her to Surrey, he’ll haul her the length and breadth of the Home Counties, but if he’s separated from his lady beyond a few miles, he affects a limp.” “He affects a limp?” Vim picked up his mug and did not look too closely at the contents. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” “I’ll tell you what I’ve never heard of.” Westhaven shot him a peevish look. “I’ve never heard of my sister, a proper, sensible woman, spending a week holed up with a strange man and allowing that man unspeakable liberties.” Lord Val paused in the act of troweling butter on another roll. “Kissing isn’t unspeakable. We know the man slept in my bed, else he’d be dead by now.” And thank God that Sophie hadn’t obliterated the evidence of their separate bedrooms. “I have offered your sister the protection of my name,” Vim said. “More than once. She has declined that honor.” “We know.” Lord Val put down his second roll uneaten. “This has us in a quandary. We ought to be taking you quite to task, but with Sophie acting so out of character, it’s hard to know how to go on. I’m for beating you on general principles. Westhaven wants a special license, and St. Just, as usual, is pretending a wise silence.” “Not a wise silence,” St. Just said, picking up Lord Val’s roll and studying it. “I wonder how many cows you keep employed with this penchant you have for butter. You could write a symphony to the bovine.” Lord Val snatched his roll back. “Admit it, St. Just, you’ve no more clue what’s to be done here than I do or Westhaven does.” “Or I do.” The words were out of Vim’s mouth without his intention to speak them. But in for a penny… “I want Sophie to be happy. I do not know how to effect that result.” A small silence spread at the table, a thoughtful and perhaps not unfriendly silence. “We want her happy, as well,” Westhaven said, his glance taking in both brothers.
”
”
Grace Burrowes (Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish (The Duke's Daughters, #1; Windham, #4))
“
Tell me,” Zachary said softly, “what kind of man would ask his best friend to marry his wife after he died? And what kind of man would inspire two seemingly sensible people to agree to such a damned stupid plan?” The man's gray eyes surveyed him in a measuring stare. “A better man than you or I will ever be.” Zachary couldn't stop himself from sneering. “It seems that Lady Holland's paragon of a husband wants to control her from the grave.” “He was trying to protect her,” Ravenhill said without apparent heat, “from men like you.” The bastard's calmness infuriated Zachary. Ravenhill was so damned confident, as if he had already won a competition that Zachary hadn't even known about until it was over. “You think she'll go through with it, don't you?” Zachary muttered resentfully. “You think she'll sacrifice the rest of her life simply because George Taylor asked it of her.” “Yes, that's what I think,” came Ravenhill's cool reply. “And if you knew her better, you'd have no doubt of it.” Why? Zachary wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring himself to voice the painful question. Why was it a foregone conclusion that she would go through with her promise? Had she loved George Taylor so much that he could influence her even in death? Or was it simply a matter of honor? Could her sense of duty and moral obligation really impel her to marry a man she didn't love? “I warn you,” Ravenhill said softly, “if you hurt or distress Lady Holland in any way, you'll answer to me.” “All this concern for her welfare is touching. A few years late in coming, isn't it?” The comment seemed to rattle Ravenhill's composure. Zachary felt a stab of triumph as he saw the man flush slightly. “I've made mistakes,” Ravenhill acknowledged curtly. “I have as many faults as the next man, and I found the prospect of filling George Taylor's shoes damned intimidating. Anyone would.” “Then what made you come back?” Zachary muttered, wishing there were some way to forcibly transport the man back across the Channel. “The thought that Lady Holland and her daughter might need me in some way.” “They don't. They have me.” The lines had been drawn. They might as well have been generals of opposing armies, facing each other across a battlefield. Ravenhill's thin, aristocratic mouth curved in a contemptuous smile. “You're that last thing they need,” he said. “I suspect even you know that.
”
”
Lisa Kleypas (Where Dreams Begin)
“
Sometimes on the way to better, things get worse for a while.
”
”
Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes: A Story about the Spiritual Journey (Sensible Shoes #1))
“
I regarded Novac a moment. He had on an awful gray poplin cotton suit, the sort of thing that prisons issue when they set you free. He wore shoes that actually had gum soles, and the uppers were made of a miracle synthetic that could be safely cleaned with Brillo. His shirt, his tie, socks, watch, even his haircut, were all bargain basement, and I found myself irrationally offended by the man because of the air of sensible frugality about him. Actually, I hate a man who won’t splurge on a good suit.
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Nelson DeMille (The Gold Coast)
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The Sensible Shoes Club sat in Meg’s parlor in front of a crackling fire, chairs from the kitchen gathered into a circle. “It’s nice to meet you guys,” Becca said to Mara and Charissa after a few minutes of friendly introductions. “And congratulations on the baby.” “Thanks!” Charissa tucked the pink shoes back into her purse. “Great to meet you too!” Mara chorused the same. “I’ll be in my room, Mom,” Becca said, “if you need anything.” “Thanks, honey.” Becca would probably spend the next two hours on the phone with Simon. To her credit, she had spent very little time texting or talking with him whenever she and Meg were together. But at night, after Meg went to bed, she could hear Becca through the wall, her voice animated with infatuation. Meg waited until she heard Becca’s bedroom door close upstairs. Then she looked around the circle at her friends. “I’ve been meditating the past week on some of the stories about the end of Jesus’ life—not to be morbid, but to watch his love. The prayer exercise I chose for tonight caught my attention because it shows him with his friends, loving them.” She passed around the handouts and
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Barefoot: A Story of Surrendering to God (Sensible Shoes #3))
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2:20 are from the New International Version. All other Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The selection from the poem “Tourist or Pilgrim” by Macrina Wiederkehr is used by permission of Sister Macrina. The Abba Macarius story and memento mori exercise came from Rebecca DeYoung.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Barefoot: A Story of Surrendering to God (Sensible Shoes #3))
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He leaned forward to get a closer look and received an instant rebuke from a nearby woman. “Otstupit,” she said firmly. Paris turned to Mother and whispered, “Did she just call me stupid?” “Otstupit,” he said. “It means ‘back away.’ She’s the guard.” Paris raised an eyebrow because she didn’t look like a guard. She was in her midsixties and barely five feet tall. She had gray hair, sensible shoes, and wore a sweater over a long-sleeved shirt, even though it was the middle of summer. “Really?” he asked. “It’s tradition in Russian art museums,” Mother answered. “Rather than imposing guards in uniforms they have…” “What? Grannies in cardigans?” “Pretty much,” Mother said with a smirk. “But don’t be fooled. She’s probably ex-KGB. If you get too close to the art, she’ll go from babushka to ninja in no time flat.
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James Ponti (Forbidden City (City Spies, #3))
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For most of the year I wore no shoes. This Higher Power was my guide, but it seemed to be just as confused about the world as I was. Eventually, I realized that my Higher Power was an ethereal nothingness. It was a collection of lofty ideas that, although beautiful, were not capable of contradicting me, reshaping my paradigms, or defining reality for me. It was a god that appealed to my own sensibilities; it was as ever-changing and subjective as my own mind.
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Michael J Heil (Pursued: God’s relentless pursuit and a drug addict’s journey to finding purpose)
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I don’t know, {she} reminds me of a biology teacher I had in 8th grade, another dutiful demystifier, inveterate empiricist and wearer of sensible shoes. First class of the year, Mrs. Voight announced in a smug tone of voice, striving for the matter-of-fact, that a human being was nothing more than a collection of chemicals that can be had from a biological supply company for approximately $4. Why so cheap? Because we were 95% water and the rest consisting of relatively common forms of carbon.
I knew that day that even if Mrs. Voight was right she was not going to teach me anything I needed to know.
Everything that lives is 95% water. Genius is 95% perspiration, 5% inspiration. Success is 95% hard work, OK, I get it, but what about that 5%? Tell me watermelon is 99% water and you still haven’t told me anything interesting. Like, what about the 1%? Because chances are that’s where you’re gonna find the watermelon.
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Michael Pollan (Second Nature: A Gardener's Education)
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I don’t know, {she} reminds me of a biology teacher I had in 8th grade, another dutiful demystifier, inveterate empiricist and wearer of sensible shoes. First class of the year, Mrs. Voight announced in a smug tone of voice, striving for the matter-of-fact, that a human being was nothing more than a collection of chemicals that can be had from a biological supply company for approximately $4. Why so cheap? Because we were 95% water and the rest consisting of relatively common forms of carbon.
I knew that day that even if Mrs. Voight was right she was not going to teach me anything I needed to know. Everything that lives is 95% water. Genius is 95% perspiration, 5% inspiration. Success is 95% hard work, OK, I get it, but what about that 5%? Tell me watermelon is 99% water and you still haven’t told me anything interesting. Like, what about the 1%? Because chances are that’s where you’re gonna find the watermelon.
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Michael Pollan (Second Nature: A Gardener's Education)
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She should have been in her seventies, but she looked trim in a violet suit, discreet diamonds glittering in her ears. Her shoes were sensible for walking.
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Elizabeth Bear (Blood and Iron (Promethean Age, #1))
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I will lead the blind by a road they do not know, by paths they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I will do, and I will not forsake them. Isaiah 42:16
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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In their defence, women do get a rough deal. Women's clothes often don't have pockets and if they do, they look unflattering when filled. Women often wear shoes that are incredibly uncomfortable to walk long distances in, so it is sensible to bring an extra pair, sometimes two, if a gym visit is required. Long hair can be a pain, so there are brushes, lotions, bobbles, bands and hair-ties that need to be considered. Then there’s make up – it's not just a case of a bit of powder and mascara, its far more complicated than that – there are toners and moisturisers and bronzers, as well as cotton wool and wipes to consider.
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Andy Leeks (As They Slept (The comical tales of a London commuter))
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I've read dozens of interviews and accounts that basically come down to How Poets Do It and the truth is they're all do-lally and they're all different. There's Gerard Manly Hopkins in his black Jesuit clothes lying face down on the ground to look at an individual bluebell, Robert Frost who never used a desk, was once caught short by a poem coming and wrote it on the sole of his shoe, T.S. Eliot in his I'm-not-a-Poet suit with his solid sensible available-for-poetry three hours a day, Ted Hughes folded into his tiny cubicle at the top of the stairs where there is no window, no sight or smell of earth or animal but the rain clatter on the roof bows him to the page, Pablo Neruda who grandly declared poetry should only ever be handwritten, and then added his own little bit of bonkers by saying: in green ink. Poets are their own nation. Most of them know.
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Niall Williams (History of the Rain)
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If he actually used the organ between his ears for once, he had to admit that he and Charity were as mismatched as two left shoes. They had little in common: she was responsible, sensible, and self-disciplined whereas he was … not. Though he couldn't quite put his finger on the source of it, some ineffable tension seemed to charge their interactions.
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Grace Callaway (Her Prodigal Passion (Mayhem in Mayfair, #4))
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Take it to the Streets “Pray continually”(1 Thessalonians 5:17). I’ve enjoyed walking since my youth and continue to enjoy it today as my number one cardiovascular activity. I find walking to be the most flexible and relaxing exercise. No special equipment or skills are needed – just a good pair of shoes and sensible clothing. It can be done anywhere and anytime with a friend or by myself. There can also be both spiritual and physical benefits by combining prayer with walking. What walking accomplishes in building a strong body, prayer achieves in building spiritual strength. Your body requires exercise and food, and it needs these things regularly. Once a week won’t suffice. Your spiritual needs are similar to your physical needs, and so praying once a week is as effective as eating once a week. The Bible tells us to pray continually in order to have a healthy, growing spiritual life. Prayer walking is just what it sounds like — simply walking and talking to God. Prayer walking can take a range of approaches from friends or family praying as they walk around schools, neighbourhoods, work places, and churches, to structured prayer campaigns for particular streets and homes. I once participated in a prayer walk in Ottawa where, as a group, we marched to Parliament Hill and prayed for our governments, provinces, and country. In the Bible, there are many references to walking while thinking and meditating on the things of God. Genesis 13:17 says, “Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.” The prophet Micah declared, “All the nations may walk in the name of their gods, we will walk in the name of the Lord our God for ever and ever.” (Micah 4:5) And in Joshua 14:9 it says, “So on that day Moses swore to me, ‘The land on which your feet have walked will be your inheritance and that of your children forever, because you have
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Kimberley Payne (Feed Your Spirit: A Collection of Devotionals on Prayer (Meeting Faith Devotional Series Book 2))
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It was a stark choice: shoes or food; beauty or sustenance; the sensible or the self-indulgent. "I'll take the shoes," she said firmly.
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Alexander McCall Smith (Tea Time for the Traditionally Built (No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, #10))
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I opened the material I had about Amy Breslyn and studied her picture again. She didn’t look like a person who would embezzle four hundred sixty thousand dollars, but people can fool you. She looked like a sad version of someone’s marshmallow aunt: a kindly woman, slightly out-of-date, who wore sensible shoes and minded her own business. I
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Robert Crais (The Promise (Elvis Cole, #16; Joe Pike, #5; Scott James & Maggie, #2))
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We can’t be lone rangers. You need to be fed, Hannah—not just in the sacred journey group or in your private devotions. You need other believers around you, worshiping with you and encouraging you. The very thing you’ve been avoiding is exactly what you need. Even if it’s a struggle—even if it makes you feel lost and uncomfortable.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes: A Story about the Spiritual Journey (Sensible Shoes #1))
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How grateful I am to be reunited with Hannah, Meg, Mara, and Charissa, my friends in Sharon Garlough Brown’s Sensible Shoes series. Having already journeyed with them through seasons of growth and change, I was eager to see what this third novel, Barefoot, would reveal. And what a tender story ensued as these women faced both serendipitous joy and heart-wrenching sorrow.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Barefoot: A Story of Surrendering to God (Sensible Shoes #3))
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Sharon Garlough Brown may be a novelist, but she’s also a portrait artist, painting with tender detail the souls of four women on a spiritual journey. This third installment is harrowing, lovely, joyous—like life, like faith. Beautifully rendered!
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Barefoot: A Story of Surrendering to God (Sensible Shoes #3))
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Actually, it would be quite a sensible purchase. And why not? I worked all summer. I deserve a treat. I don’t know why, but I get a little rush every time I purchase a pair of shoes. I don’t even know what part is my favorite. I love the excitement as I’m bringing them to the counter and then as the clerk is ringing them up and the anticipation that they will soon belong to me. Or setting them up inside my closet, neatly lined up next to all my other shoes. And of course, the first time I get to wear them outside the house. I may be plain, especially compared to my husband, but shoes like this make me feel glamorous. Like I might actually be attractive enough to be married to the gorgeous Nathaniel Bennett. Except
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Freida McFadden (The Teacher)
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Rules of life are like trellises,” Katherine explained, “helping branches grow in the right direction and providing support and structure. They can be as simple or as detailed as you wish. I’ve known some people who benefit from having specific spiritual patterns and rhythms for each day; others prefer more of a free flow. What’s important is that you discern what brings you life. Which disciplines help you keep company with Jesus?
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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A large group of birders had taken over three tables of the Buttered Scone. Even Julia, a non-tweeter – or was it twitcher? – could identify them by their appearance and habits. Their colouration was distinctive. They were kitted out in sombre earthy tones of brown and green, with sensible walking shoes, also commonly brown. In the winter months, they were adorned with large puffy outer layers to protect them from the cold. In summer, long sleeves guarded against the sun. The female of the species had sensibly cut hair, all the better to spot the birds, Julia presumed. The males were often bespectacled, and even more often bearded. Further clues – and key differentiators from the more common hikers and ramblers – were the presence of high-end binoculars around the neck, and birding books stuffed into pockets or, in this case, laid on the table of the Buttered Scone.
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Katie Gayle (Murder at the Inn (Julia Bird Mysteries #4))
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You may feel disappointment or shame when you fail or when you’re corrected,” he finally said. “That’s part of being a perfectionist, isn’t it? We perfectionists are governed by our fear of failure. We’re controlled by our highly developed inner critics. So when we sin, the impulse is either to deny it, or beat ourselves up.” He took a long sip from his travel mug before he spoke again. “When I hear you say, ‘I can’t believe I did that!’ it’s a clue that you’re still trying to be good. You’re disappointed in yourself because you didn’t get things right. So you’re still trying to be your own savior and sanctifier. Does that make sense?
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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only people who really trust God can vent their anger at him.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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Help me testify to the Light, Lord, without trying to be the Light for others.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Two Steps Forward: A Story of Persevering in Hope (Sensible Shoes Book 2))
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Oh, do shut up, Martha. Wearing sensible shoes doesn’t make a woman a feminist or a lesbian any more than wearing that hideous yellow dress makes you a goddamn banana,” Violet snarked, shaking her head. “I swear, with women like you, I don’t know why my mother fought so hard to win the right to vote.
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Onley James (Intoxicating (Elite Protection Services, #1))
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there’s also a disabling sort of poverty that sneers you’re never good enough, no matter what you do or how hard you try. The right kind of spiritual poverty is a pathway to seeing God; the other kind prevents you from seeing who God has created you to be.” She paused. “Perhaps your journey will take you from one to the other.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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There is a particularly vindictive tenor to the kind of hangover that occurs in your forties, as if the body, not content with acting as if it has been poisoned, also decides to send furious signals across all nerve endings: How old do you think you are? Was that really a sensible idea? Hmm? Think you’re still young enough to play hard? WELL, TRY THIS.
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Jojo Moyes (Someone Else's Shoes)
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minimize. Not deny. Not ignore. Not excuse. Not justify.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Barefoot: A Story of Surrendering to God (Sensible Shoes #3))
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stun the world with its beauty and grace. That’s where I want to walk, Lord. In freedom. In the power of your Spirit. In love. But it’s so hard to keep company with you in all the deaths to self. It’s so hard to embrace your call to love, to sacrifice, to trust, to persevere in hope that death is never the end with you. To believe that in all of these dyings there are also risings.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (An Extra Mile: A Story of Embracing God's Call (Sensible Shoes #4))
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everybody you meet is made in Abba’s image. If you can’t see it, look harder. Ask for new eyes.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Barefoot: A Story of Surrendering to God (Sensible Shoes #3))
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If you set your hopes low, you can be pleasantly surprised if anything good happens. I guess it's a way of hardening your heart. A way of resisting the love of God that has been generously poured out through the Holy Spirit. Poured out. Not measured out by teaspoons. Poured. An image of abundance.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Two Steps Forward: A Story of Persevering in Hope (Sensible Shoes, #2))
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God is always the first one to move in his relationship with us. Our movement is always a response to the Love which loved us first. It’s not about being more perfect in your faith or in your love for Jesus, Charissa—it’s about being more open to responding to his deep love for you. So no guilt or condemnation about not seeing things before now, okay? It’s the Spirit who opens the eyes of the blind. Always at the right time.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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Our hope isn't uncertain. Christian hope doesn't fluctuate according to circumstances. True hope is about having confidence that God's good and loving purposes in Christ can never be thwarted, no matter how it appears.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Two Steps Forward: A Story of Persevering in Hope (Sensible Shoes, #2))
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...any movement away from the presence of God is movement in the wrong direction. My sorrow, my suffering, my sin - all of it is meant to be an offering to him. All of it belongs at the foot of the cross.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Two Steps Forward: A Story of Persevering in Hope (Sensible Shoes, #2))
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In the midst of disappointment, it's easy for us to punctuate our pain with exclamation points. God, however, is very fond of commas, and our lives are continually unfolding in him, with all the unexpected twists and turns. Courage, dear one. The Lord is with you. May he strengthen you with hope for the next leg of the journey.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Two Steps Forward: A Story of Persevering in Hope (Sensible Shoes, #2))
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Fiona, put your hat straight. Mathilda, where are your gloves? Deirdre, how many times do I have to tell you not to stand on one leg?’ ‘My stockings make me itch,’ said the unfortunate Deirdre, who had been rubbing her shin violently with the edge of her sensible brown leather shoe. ‘Deirdre! Mentioning underwear in public, whatever are you thinking of?
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Elizabeth Edmondson (The Frozen Lake: A Vintage Mystery)
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It wasn't, [Nancy] grasped, so much that he was a dirty little man as that he probably felt she was inaccessible to him and was therefore determined to find fault with her. Being a singularly lovely girl, she was in fact used the the type, having suffered considerably at their hands at university. And Jake, more than anything, reminded her of those insufferably bright boys on campus, self-declared intellectuals, usually Jewish, charged with bombast and abominable poetry in lower-case letters, who were aroused by her presence, and yet were too gauche (and terrified) to speak out and actually ask for a date. Instead they sat at the table next to her in the student union, aggressively calling attention to themselves. Speculating loudly on what they took to be her icy manner. Or they slid belligerently into the seat next to her at lectures, trying to bedazzle with their questions. They also ridiculed her to girls less happily endowed, wreaking vengeance for a rejection they anticipated, but were too cowardly to risk, and bandied suggestions about her secret sexual life sufficiently coarse to make her dry. No matter that she took immense pains not to be provocative, swimming in sloppy joe sweaters, sensible skirts, and flat shoes. Going out of her way to discourage boys the other girls coveted. For this only proved that Nancy Croft was remote; splendidly made, yest, but glacier-like.
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Mordecai Richler (St. Urbain's Horseman)
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Ma’am sounded to me like an older woman with a proper purse, good posture, and sensible shoes
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Michelle Obama (Becoming)
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The painfully prolonged polite greetings finally over, she stealthily drifted over to the table of goodies. She was just a finger’s length away from a chocolate-glazed precious with her name written all over it when a firm hand clamped down on her elbow. Her empty stomach sank to the bottom of her sensible shoes, and she stared up at her boss with what she knew was the most effectively pathetic hangdog expression in her arsenal. But he was having none of it; his jaw was clenched so tightly she was amazed his teeth didn’t crack. She gave one final forlorn look at the doughnuts before he led her to the long conference table in the center of the room.
“Try to pay attention,” he muttered in her ear as he planted her into a seat that, cruelly, faced the delicious spread just a table’s breadth away from her.
What followed was the longest, most boring and torturous three hours of Cleo’s life. The meeting was conducted entirely in Japanese, which Cleo didn’t speak but Dante most certainly did, and quite fluently too from what she could tell. She didn’t know why she was there. He had a Dictaphone recording the meeting, so even if she’d been able to understand what was going on, she wouldn’t have had to take notes anyway. All she could do was stare at the doughnuts and other delicious goodies in front of her and imagine how they tasted. At one point a fly landed on her doughnut. It took everything she had not to jump up with a primal scream and chase it away. Instead, she watched in revulsion as it crawled over every inch of her beautiful doughnut. She nearly sobbed in disappointment, gave up on the chocolate one, and shifted her attention to a gorgeous éclair on a different platter. But when that bastard fly, which she had now named Damaso Jr., landed on her éclair as well, she slumped back in her chair and stared glumly down at the blank notebook in front of her.
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Natasha Anders (A Ruthless Proposition)
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Designers love to ideate broadly and wildly. They love the crazy ideas as much as or more than the sensible ones. Why? Most people think that designers are just “out there” and prefer crazy stuff because they’re edgy, avant-garde, dark-sunglass-wearing kinds of people (think berets, cool shoes, and the hippest restaurants). That may be true, but it’s not the point. Designers learn to have lots of wild ideas because they know that the number one enemy of creativity is judgment. Our brains are so tightly wired to be critical, find problems, and leap to judgment that it’s a wonder any ideas ever make it out! We have to defer judgment and silence the inner critic if we want to get all our ideas out. If we don’t, we may have a few good ideas, but the majority will have been lost—silently imprisoned behind the wall of judgment our prefrontal cortex has erected to safeguard us from making mistakes or looking foolish.
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Bill Burnett (Designing Your Life: How to Build a Well-Lived, Joyful Life)
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wants to be a zombie, but finds that she can’t get bit to save her life.” Madison thought about that for a minute. “You are a strange man. But I mean that in a good way.” She looked up, seeing the surprise that she had arranged for him walking down the aisle toward his booth. With a little prodding, Spenser and Target had agreed to be zombies hanging around ExBoy’s booth. Target in particular was quite eager. But best of all, Crystal had agreed to try to get Toonie out of the house by bringing her to the convention, and Madison could see now that they were doing more than just attending. They, too, were walking toward them, made up as zombies. Crystal, her beautiful complexion drained to a deathly pallor, was dressed like a cheerleader with her little pleated skirt and sleeveless shell top in bloody tatters, carrying what Madison had thought was a dirtied pom-pom but now realized was a head with long bloody hair. Spenser wore a nurse’s old fashioned white uniform, with a little white hat attached to her blonde hair pinned up like Tippy Hedren’s in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Choosing to keep her face its prettiest, she sported a bloody gouge on her left forearm. Instead of sensible nurse’s shoes, she wore high heels. The blood on her uniform
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Lucy Carol (Hot Scheming Mess (Madison Cruz Mystery #1))
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Emmie was the opposite of exciting. She was sensible and dependable. She was the comfy sweater on a rainy day, not the glamorous cocktail dress or the sexy shoes that looked so amazing you wore them even when they pinched your toes.
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Elizabeth Hunter (Ink (7th and Main, #1))
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I hate the word discipline,” she said. “I already feel guilty, and I haven’t even gone yet.” “I know,” said Dawn. “Lots of people have the same reaction. But spiritual disciplines aren’t laws or rules to follow. They’re tools that help us create space in our lives so God can work within us. We can’t transform ourselves. That’s God’s work, by God’s grace. But disciplines help us cooperate with the work of the Spirit.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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Kitty, this is humility. This is how I want you to live: knowing you have no strength on your own, but being absolutely confident that you can do everything through me.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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you begin to pray, still and quiet yourself. Give thanks for some of the specific gifts God has given you today. Then ask the Holy Spirit to guide and direct your thoughts as you prayerfully review your day. Let the details play out like a short movie. Pay attention both to the things that gave you life and to the things that drained you. Notice where the Spirit invites you to linger and ponder. These are some questions you can adapt and use in the examen: When were you aware of God’s presence today? When did you sense God’s absence? When did you respond to God with love, faith, and obedience? When did you resist or avoid God?
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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When did you feel most alive and energized? When did you feel drained, troubled, or agitated? Having reviewed the details of your day, confess what needs to be confessed. Allow God’s Spirit to bring you wholeness, grace and forgiveness. Finally, consider these questions: How will you live attentively in God’s love tomorrow? How can you structure your day in light of God’s presence, taking into account your own rhythms and responses to the movement of the Spirit? Ask for the grace to recognize the ways God makes his love known to you.
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Sensible Shoes (Sensible Shoes #1))
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I’m scared, but also debating whether to try and whack her with my Chloé Paddington bag – thank goodness for the heavy padlock – and try to make a run for it in my gorgeous but impractical brown suede, five-inch Marc by Marc Jacobs boots. Luckily, I spy Obélix – lucky because my boots were made more for display purposes than running footwear. Obviously the crazy woman is wearing flat, sensible, Clarks-looking shoes in dependable black. Yuck. That’s not the point though. The point is she’d catch me in seconds and I’d probably damage my boots in the process.
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Elle Field (Kept (Arielle Lockley, #1))
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Franklin’s inquisitive mind craved stimulation, consistently gravitating toward whatever community of intellects asked the most intriguing questions; his expansive temperament sought souls that resonated with his own generosity and sense of virtue. In five years in England he had found more of both than in a lifetime in America. “Of all the enviable things England has,” he told Polly Stevenson, “I envy most its people. Why should that petty island, which compared to America is but like a stepping stone in a brook, scarce enough of it above water to keep one’s shoes dry; why, I say, should that little island enjoy in almost every neighbourhood more sensible, virtuous and elegant minds than we can collect in ranging 100 leagues of our vast forests?” He left such people reluctantly and, he trusted, temporarily.
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H.W. Brands (The First American: The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin)
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Resilient. That was the word Meg Crane had been searching for. Resilient. “You’re not resilient,” Mother had often said, her accusing tone ringing in Meg’s ears, even almost a year after her death. “You’ve got to learn how to bounce back. Move on.” Meg rolled over in her twin-size bed, the same bed she had slept in as a little girl. Never, in her forty-six years, had she been one to recover quickly from
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Sharon Garlough Brown (Barefoot: A Story of Surrendering to God (Sensible Shoes #3))