Sienna Love Quotes

You have the power to tear me to pieces, to wound me so deep and true that I'll never recover. What Rissa's death did to the boy I was? You have the ability to do a thousand times worse to the man I've become.

Pack is built on the bonds of family, of mating, of love. You come first. You always will.

Hey, heard you’re a bitch whore for stealing Sienna’s man.” … “Yep. I officially, globally suck.” Anna chewed her food for a minute, then smiled. “Well, c**t or not, I still love you.

If I could bring her back for you, I would.” In an instant, even if it meant she would have to watch him love another woman.

Hawke.” “Shh … Lie back and think of England.” Laughter reawakened inside of her, bubbling its way past the raw burn of emotion. “I’d rather think of you.” She felt his smile against the curve of her abdomen, his jaw rough with stubble that made her shiver as he kissed his way oh-so-slowly down her body.

You'll regret this because I've only ever loved you and when you see me happy with another woman, you'll regret it even more. Your thoughts will be haunted by me; the one that got away. Goodbye, Sienna.

Love me, that's all I ask. I will never want to go away, Sienna. Never fear that. No matter the difficulty, I will always stay. Always. I don't want anyone else. I want you, Sienna. You. Always and only fucking you. Don't make me suffer because you don't think you deserve me. I get to choose who I want to be with and I choose you. I will always fucking choose you, don't you see that? It was always meant to be you.

I do love you, Sienna, but to me, you’re more than just the woman I love: You’re the dream that I’ve been chasing, the dream I’ve been fighting my whole life for, and if you’re going to turn into a nightmare, then I will end you.

I love you, Sebastián, just like I would had I given birth to you. I’d die for you, but this way, whatever happens to me, you get a chance at human life again.

I do wish there were an easier way," Indi says wistfully. "One that didn't involve violence." "You want us to fight them with hugs?" Sienna asks. "Love is stronger than hate," Indi says.

My Dream Date. Putting Pink Floyd on loop in at least a 5-CD rotation or on spotify or something, getting real high on hash while naked, making love on and off for hours, lying on the bed eating cheesy crackers and sipping a quality beer like Tetley's, Guinness or Pilsner Urquell. Repeat as needed.

I still can't help but love Sienna, though, I adore her. looking at her still makes me melt somewhere deep in my soul. Her presence lifts me up more than anyone else I know. Thinking about her fills me with happiness. What we have is unique. But I have accepted that she will never be mine, so I have to just love her from a distance and move on. It's working. It really is. I am finally achieving peace.

What am I going to do? I wish I knew the answer, Sienna. The man your going to marry is walking this earth. He's alive right now, somewhere. He could be in Australia, backpacking with friends; he could be working in a bar in China; he could be a hotshot American lawyer; he could be a musician; he could be going about his life in London at this very moment... Any day now, your paths could cross. She smiled when I said this, like it brought her comfort.

What about Sienna?” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “What about her? We’ve been over for a long time.” “It’s still wrong.” “Then why does it feel so fucking right?” … You belonged to her first.” “I’ve never belonged to anyone.

That was the awakening, really; it dawned on me that this wasn't really very fair on anyone. On her. On me. On Sienna. But I wasn't willing to change anything, either. I was fiercely protective of my friendship with Sienna. I had fought for it, against my true feelings, for years. I had battled so hard to suppress my feelings, and succeeded. I could never let her go.

All right, my lovely Sienna. I've waited for eight months; I can wait a little more. I'll wait until you are ready, but I want to make something clear, I don't just want your for your body.... when you're mine, I want your all; your body, your soul, your mind. I will consume you. I'll be your world and in return, I'll worship the ground you walk on and make you a very happy woman.

I love the sound of one hand clapping.

Cause I'm just a Artsy Loving Person!

I am Anarchy. I am Power. I am Love. I am Siennarchist.

Don't take this the wrong way,but I hope you get stabbed again.Like,real soon.I loved kissing you all better.

It didn't matter. Carson wasn’t the one for me. He wasn’t even the one for right now. My life would hopefully have its great love story but this wasn't it. It would happen in D.C. in the next four years or it would happen in Africa, if I ever got there, or in Sienna or, for all I knew, Kentucky or Timbuktu. Life was long. And people only really had great love affairs in high school in the movies. And maybe during world wars. But this was not a movie and not a war, even if it sometimes felt that way. It was only high school and it was almost over with anyway.

When Matthieu was dying he didn't regret the money we didn't have, the money we could have had if I'd kept working. He only regretted that he didn't have longer to love me. And that is a life well-lived.

Love is more real than sex. Two dogs meeting in the street will have sex, but Love is only from God. Love creates Life and Love is the secret element that holds the universe together. It is because of, and within Love, that we are all One.

It’s not like you have anything to lose anymore.” My fingers stop at my thumb ring while Sienna’s words echo in my head. Do I have anything to lose? I mean, after all I did, everything I fought against. I slowly turn the ring on my thumb. This simple band has, like all of my rings, one word engraved on it. Will anything change if I go to him? After all, I did lose everything that is important. It’s funny, actually, after the months I spent pushing him away. I thought, like the silly girl I probably am, that if I didn’t give myself to him, I’d be safe, that as long as I didn’t sleep with him, I wouldn’t lose my heart. Shouldn’t I have this one last memory to take home with me? So lost…I came here lost and I’ll go home lost. How convenient, and so utterly pathetic I want to give myself one strong shake to snap out of this.

Mom had spent the day alternating between beaming and sobbing. Aunt Gina kept whisking her into the bathroom for concealer touch-ups. Dad looked proud and relieved. There's no question that he loves Sienna more than life, but I think a little less of her will be good for his blood pressure.

Its true. We did go in that room together and yes we were going to…you know… but Logan was so drunk. Like really drunk. He could barely see or walk or talk properly. But when he did all he kept talking about was you.” Rose said somberly. “Like what?” Sienna asked skeptically. “At first about how much he hated you, how he hated your dad, and your mom, then he started saying how he hated the fact that you could throw a football better than half the guys, how you pretend you don’t get dirty jokes when he knows you do, how you taste like strawberries and how he hates it when you smile ‘cos when you do, it lights up the sky.” She said sincerely.

Anchored to her sure-fired eyes I am then followed by a thirst in her that she is still craving to satiate. Grabbing ahold of me upside down with her mesic grasp she warms her sienna-sand skin inverse to me. Feeling her seize my sacral nerve she maneuvers to carefully empty me again. Like brontide building up to a cloudburst she absorbs me drawing a deep squeeze upwards consuming every ounce of my sucré crème. Effleuraging the soft soused petals of her poporo she braces herself feeling an apical and phreatic trembling inside of her. Feeling her squeeze that last lick she cums again into my mouth. Feeling me swill that nectarous haoma sluicing from her pink pearlious clam. Candy flipping her clitoral shaft and tasting the pomaceous pabulum of her inner goddess. Beholding in part that celestial diluvium by which all creation is bathed. Feeling her exultant joy and tactual grip as she releases a beautiful freeing cry

When they were first casting for my part in the movie, the producers asked if I had any suggestions. “I’ll tell you what I don’t want,” I said. “I don’t want someone in their early twenties who’s never had any heartbreak or gone through anything difficult.” I heard later that Clint thought he’d have a hard time casting me. I hope that was because I’m such a complex but soulful person, though you never know. When he settled on Sienna Miller, he hit it on the head. The first time I talked to her, it felt like I was speaking to an old girlfriend. She got everything. Whether I explained how it felt the first time Chris kissed me, or how it felt when he held me, she completely understood. She’s a woman with deep empathy as well as a great actor. My part--her part--in the movie isn’t very big, but it’s important, and I felt it was in good hands. She knows what it’s like to be a mom, and she knows how it feels to worry about someone and to live through situations you can’t control. Still, I remained nervous: What if, despite all their efforts, they didn’t manage to convey what Chris was all about? The director, the actors, they were all at the top of their field, but that was no guarantee that they could pull it off.

Western medicine’s love of drawing people into diagnostic categories and applying disease names to small differences and minor bodily changes is not specific to functional disorders – it is a general trend. Pre-diabetes, polycystic ovaries, some cancers and many more conditions have all been subject to the problem of over-inclusive diagnosis. My biggest concern in this regard is the degree to which many people are wholly unaware of the subjective nature of the medical classification of disease. If a person is told they have this or that disorder, they assume it must be right. The Latin names we give to things and the shiny scanning machines make it look as if there is more authority than actually exists. To a certain extent, Sienna pursued each diagnosis she was given, but other people have diagnoses thrust upon them, having no idea that there might be anything controversial about it – and having no idea that they have a choice. Western medicine’s hold on people, and its sense of being systematic and accurate, makes it a powerful force in the transmission of cultural concepts of what constitutes wellness or ill health. But Western medicine is just as enslaved to fads and trends as any other tradition of medicine.

Strange that the word 'submit' kept popping in her head each time she locked eyes with him. Strange that she found the mere idea repulsive on merit, but tempting now.

Our love is true because the truth is love isn’t always kind or patient, sometimes it’s raw and passionate and impulsive and can even be cruel. Believe it or not sometimes you have to work at it and when we we’re good; we’re not even great we’re phenomenal. Sometimes I’m temperamental asshole and you’re just a crazy grade A bitch! But we work for God’s sake so don’t throw us away! We are just two imperfect people living in an imperfect world with a slightly imperfect love, is there anything more perfect than that? I love you Sienna, I love you now and I will always love you.” He said so sincerely with a look so pure it startled her and set all the nerves in her body alight with an exhilarating intense fire that she tried to extinguish immediately with pails of water.

Sienna Rivers, ex-nerd, undisputed reigning chess champion of the class of 09 and the proverbial all round wise-ass degenerate pain in your backside.

Circulation of Song after Rumi Once again I'm climbing the mountain Circle on circle like a winding rose Below me the mountains fall away like rose-petals I wish to be at the centre of the mystic rose Where I shall meet Him He shall greet me: Beloved! So long in coming -- He shall be the lonely pine tree On the flattened promontory And I, the spider clinging to Him by a mere thread, against the sun and the wind Each dawn the sunrise tinting gold the burnt Sienna houses Each dusk the alpine rosy glow on the mountain Each afternoon such darkness in the glen Fold on fold in a foliage all the shades of green: They have crept into my dream He is the air I breathe Purest mountain-air: I'm cleaned He is the lark's descant And in the evening, the nightingale He is the star's ascent and the moon's cloud-hiding He is all the circles and in this circulation of song: I read you / you read me circulating In my blood from head to heel He is the fruit of my unfulfilled life The peach pooped with juice And running with the Argentine waters, the pear In the Chinese nectarine flecked like a child's cheek with red And in the sour loquat and the sweet cherry In the fragrance of the jasmine of India And the Shiraz rose that makes the bee mad for them In the grape that becomes wine to suffuse my cheek In the olive that becomes a lamp to shine through my cupped hands In these and not only in these does He circulate Pouring from the sun at 5' o'clock as if at noon Dancing on the lake, pure honey And all the chatter over tea! But in the quiet you find me out You find me out Plucking myself from Me So that I become you The breath in my nape-nerve Sweetly saying: I bow to the God in you

A picket-fenced house in a nice suburb with parents who loved each other and loved you. You went to the right schools, played the right sports, got the right grades, and made the right decisions. Because that was what was expected of you. You assumed that the life waiting for you was the same life that your parents had, that same suburban perfection.

Not that I’d ever want to own a 1960 sienna-rose Cadillac, but Hudson loves it, and I’ve got to admit—it glistens.

Sienna woke up to the sound of panic coming from Paige’s side of the room. “Shit. What the….Why am I? Oh my God.” Paige said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears before running out of the room. Sienna began laughing uncontrollably. It had taken a full week of patiently waiting for this moment and she was glad she was around to witness it. She knew exactly what had just happened and all she needed was a bag of popcorn to make the moment an even more entertaining show. She grabbed her shower caddy and made her way to the showers for a casual stroll. She’d pretend she was in for a shower and catch the show live and in person. Payback really was a bitch. Upon walking into the community showers, the echoing sounds of Paige’s whimpers led Sienna right to her. Sienna walked around with her caddy, with a smile on her face and eventually was within sight of Paige. Her athletically toned body was red from the scorching hot water hitting her body. She scratched like a dog with fleas. “Aw, what’s wrong? Feeling a bit...itchy? Soap and water work miracles. Is it crabs? Maybe you’re allergic to yourself. I mean it wouldn’t surprise me if your own body was trying to get away from you.” Sienna said, holding back the urge to laugh hysterically. “Shut up, Sienna! This isn’t funny.” Paige whimpered, continuing to scratch. “It can’t be that bad.” Sienna smirked. “You know there’s probably a cream for that itch.” “I know you’re totally getting off on watching me naked, Arkansas. You didn’t have to go to these extremes to do it.” Paige said, clearly pretending she was stronger than her itch. “Wow! You’re more delusional than I thought you were. Listen, I'm a nice person and I won't spread any rumors about you and your....Uncontrollable urge to scratch but if you mess with me again, I promise next time I won't be so nice. Oh and by the way I'm not a fan of slumber parties so find somewhere else to hook up with your little girlfriends.” Sienna said, blowing a kiss at Paige while walking away. Sienna walked out of the showers proud of herself and listened one last time as Paige screamed from the combination of anger and itching.

It's ridiculous how much I love the sound of your voice," he said. "It's completely bonkers how much I wake up every morning longing for you just to open your mouth, to say anything, to say everything. It's mental how much I missed it the moment I left your bedroom the other night. It makes no sense, no sens at all.

27 Places Where You Won't Find Love 1. The spoon with which you measure salt 2. Plastic plates stacked neatly on a shelf 3. Flowers - marigolds and chrysanthemums and roses - and the shop that sells these 4. Earrings lost in the backseat of a tuktuk while looking for the Malayalam translation of "I love you" in the dark 5. Bookshelves with borrowed books, never read 6. Fifty watches, three of which were for sale 7. Coffee whose flavor was slightly off 8. A red bridge that goes by gold, which has replicas everywhere 9. The replicas themselves 10. The rearview mirror of a car 11. The burnt sienna pavement where you hurt yourself 12. A protein shake whose taste grew on you thanks to someone else. With eggs and coconut and toast 13. An island untouched by civilization 14. Another ravaged by war 15. A declined invitation to brunch 16. Dinner gone cold after a long wait, and thrown away the next day 17. An unacknowledged text message 18. Laughter ringing through a movie hall during a scene that didn't warrant it 19. Retainers stored in a box next to baby oil in the medicine cabinet 20. A gold pendant 21. A white and red cable car 22. A helmet too small for your head and another too large 23. Dreams with their own background score 24. Misplaced affection 25. A smile between strangers, with you standing on the outside looking in 26. Your bed 27. The future

I love you,” he says as he signs the same words to me. “In every language, in every tongue, in every way, I love you.

I’ve learned, it doesn’t matter what the family looks like from the outside, as long as it’s bound together with love.

What if I loved someone, gave them my heart and they were taken from me? Even worse, what if I was taken from them and they were left alone? The idea of destroying the person I loved by leaving them behind was worse than the idea of death. But with Savannah being loved by Aiden, too…he’ll protect her if anything happens to me. He’ll look after her when I’m gone.

You have all of me, Fionn. Love isn’t halved when you share it. It multiplies

He stopped, stood perfectly still, closed his eyes, breathed in the scent. He could catch the thinnest glimpse of a girl in the sliver of air between the curtain and the partition. She was small, dressed in art school standard-issue basic black, with an ass like an upside-down heart. But her hair. Oh, her hair. It cascaded in a fall of loose curls down her back, not red, not blonde, not brown, and yet all of them mixed together, trailing off at her waist. With a pang, he imagined the colors he would have used to paint it, in the years when he could still paint; golden ochre, terra rossa, raw sienna.

He looked like the type of guy I would love to hold under a blanket on a cold night and make love to until morning.

Inside the white screen of the mosquito net, bathed in the sunlight streaming through the windows, she felt as if she were in her own little oasis. Isolated from the rest of the world and its hostility. Although she could barely see past the bright, sunlit cloth, a movement in the shadows behind the net caught her eye. She frowned, straining her eyes to see what it was when, slowly, the net parted to reveal a gigantic figure. The light shone on his body and face to reveal what turned out to be a dark-eyed, broad-shouldered man. A strange feeling was born in Bianca’s chest. A mixture of panic and embarrassment left her body in the shape of a scream. With no clear thoughts in mind, she yelled for someone to help her, until it dawned on her that she was in an unfamiliar apartment, in a town where no one knew about her, and where there was no one who could help her. She was alone, and the pervert in front of her undoubtedly wanted to take advantage of the situation. Stopping just enough to breathe and continue screaming, she got on her knees in the bed and kept on yelling at him, who then seemed to fall off whatever disgusting trance he was, and took a surprised step back. His fingers, still tangled in the mosquito net, ripped the fabric from the ceiling, exposing her further. Bianca knew she was on her own. She could not count on anyone else to save her. When that realization hit, an unknown instinct made its way inside her and all the accumulated frustration caused by the situation with the paparazzi, the betrayal of her husband and losing her company concentrated inside her like a laser to focus on a single aim: the man in front of her. Feeling powerful, she grabbed the sheet tight around her with one arm to cover the front of her body, set one foot on the ground, and grabbed the closest thing to her: the purse. Her screams, which initially were meant to ask for help, transformed into a sound of pure rage. Without taking her eyes off him, Bianca reached into her bag and threw everything she found inside it: a phone, an agenda, a bottle of water, a lipstick, a tissue, the box of condoms, a book. Even a small toiletry bag. When the bag was empty, she used it as a projectile too.

Some things were just too difficult to do. Bradley Cooper wanted to know more about Chris, and I decided to send him some of the emails I’d saved while he was deployed. I sat down and read the first one, and started to cry. This is silly. I tried a few times, but couldn’t go on. A few days later, I tried again. Once more, I had to stop. I sent them to Bradley and to Sienna Miller without reading the rest.

Crayola makes all kinds of crazy colors. You know. Burnt umber. Burnt sienna. Blanched almond. Baby-shit yellow. And so on, and so forth. I’m just saying, cockroaches Have their own color. It’s distinct. Crayola should get on that. The kids’ll love it.

I love you, Theron.” His hazel eyes darkened. “I know.” Sienna waited. And then waited another second. “You know? Theron, you aren’t some scoundrel space smuggler. You need to say more than that.” He just looked at her. She

Pulling the letter I wrote from my back pocket, I drop it on the hallway table and text down to have a cab brought around. As far as I'm concerned, Sin can have my Camaro, Ryan can have my Harley, and Sienna gets my Hummer. She loves driving that tank, and it's the safest vehicle out there for her, really.

The most terrifying thing any of us can do is to fall in love. Why do you think they call it ‘falling’ in love? The greater the love, the harder we will fight against it.

The internet doesn’t have donuts,” Uriel said, furrowing his brows. “It has cookies,” Raziel said. “I’m still searching for them, but it keeps asking if I want to accept cookies. Which is a lie, because they don’t cough up the goods when I say yes. But I’ll keep looking. You can order donuts, though, and they deliver them right to you. It’s a whole thing. I love it.