Sl Quotes

I have late night conversations with the moon; he tells me about the sun, and I tell him about you.

In my mind, I am this awesome, adventurous bad ass. But in reality, I am just a bookworm that really likes wine.

[...] just remember, the storm doesn't last forever. It can scare you; it can shake you to your core. But it never lasts. The rain subsides, the thunder dies, and the winds calm to a soft whisper. And that moment after the storm clouds pass, when all is silent and still, you find peace. Quiet, gentle peace.

You don't have to be afraid of falling. Just close your eyes, let go, and know that I'll always be here with arms outstretched, ready to catch you.

He was't just my exception. He was my reason.

Life may not be pretty but it's always beautiful. We may only see the ugliness on the surface. The shit that only the world chooses to notice. But, if we dig deep, if we get to the heart of life, where there's no pain or fear, where we can just be who we are and love freely without judgement, it's really beautiful.

Sometimes the things we dream about are merely the heart's way of protecting us from what we really want, and what we're really afraid to lose.

Everyone has superpowers. Apparently mine are fucking and fighting. I'm insanely good at both." -Gabriella

You are my home. Wherever you are, that's where I'm meant to be.

Funny thing about life is that it never turns out the way you want it to.

Before I succumbed to the sweet lull of his voice, I made one last request. "Stay". I was asleep before he could answer, but in my dreams I heard him reply forever.

Your fears are not you. Do you hear me? They don't define who you are.

[...] when you know, you know. And you don't fight it. You don;t deny the inevitable. You free fall because you know there's someone there to catch you on the other side.

Love. It was the thing that bound us and tore us apart. It was our disease and the remedy of our shattered hearts. It was a sonofabitch.

You can't expect to save someone that doesn't want to be saved.

Don't worry," he smiled, pulling me into the hard warmth of his chest. "I've got you. I'll always catch you when you fall.

The purpose of reading history is not to deride or vilify anybody. And it shouldn’t be. At best, the study of history should help us to honestly, dispassionately understand the rights and wrongs of people we regard as our ancestors and use those lessons to shape our present and future.

There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal, particularly in women. Chief among these is the Mercedes-Benz 380SL convertible.

Love wasn't meant to be rational. It was meant to be experienced and felt.

Some people you couldn’t help but love. You loved them without reservation or fear. You loved them hard and fierce, because they deserved it. They deserved to be loved just as much as you deserved for them to return it.

Robert, I’m sorry that you feel so strange, but I’m not sorry that you’re feeling it because of me,” I whispered, my heart feeling a familiar twinge as I continued, “but even if you hadn’t felt it, it would not change the way I feel about you.

But with you, whenever I'm with you, whenever I'm able to touch you and smell you, hear your voice, your thoughts, I feel like I've never truly known what being blessed was.

He sleeps with you?" "Robert?" Stacey rolled her eyes at that. "No, Ghandi-of course Robert!

ಹಳ್ಳ ಕೊಳ್ಳದ ಬಳಿ ತನುವು ತಂಪಿದ ಬಳಿ ಗುಳ್ಳದ ಹಣ್ಣು ಫಲಮಾದುದು ಗುಳ್ಳದ ಹಣ್ಣು ನೆಲಕುದುರಿ ಬೀಳುವಾಗ ಅದರ ಬಳ್ಳಿಗೆ ಹೇಳಿ ಹೋಯಿತೆ ಒಂದು ಮಾತ ....

You're my grand and my torment ... you are my life and my love.

I couldn't see anything beyond this. Beyond her. Beyond us. (Blaine)

Awards get their value from the person—the person doesn’t become great because he has bagged awards.

Normal is overrated and experience. Being just like everyone else, getting lost in the crowd is nothing to strive for.

Please don’t leave me, angel,” I whisper, somewhere on the edges of sleep and the most beautiful dream. “I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.

Blaine, the scariest part about love isn’t love itself. It’s letting go and plunging into the unknown. It’s trusting someone with the very most sacred part of your heart. It’s allowing yourself to feel something foreign and uncharted, despite how much it terrifies the hell out of you

No child, no matter what path they may have chosen, should be abandoned by the people who should love them the most. When two people come together and make the conscious decision to create a life, they have an obligation to protect and love that child until death.

I needed to touch her. In that moment, it had become as necessary to me as air.

Her hope was to embarrass me. Little does she know, I'm fluent in Asshole.

He had the eyes of a man that had seen things. Eyes that were soulful and wise, yet vibrant and sultry. Eyes that made me want to run away, yet urged me to stay.

This was what miracles were about. A kiss from nowhere, for no reason, that held every promise known to man.

We'll be together. I'll make this right for us. For you. I love you, little girl. In life and in death.

Dorian strokes my exposed back with the tips of his fingers, sending shockwaves up and down my spine. I gasp from the contact, resisting the urge to beg him for more. He brings his face down to my neck, letting his lips brush my earlobe. “Gabriella, I would love to bend you over this desk right now and pull your dress up past your thighs and over your ass,” he murmurs, sex dripping from his soft lips. “That sounds good to me,” I breathe, turning my head a fraction. “What’s stopping you?” Never in my life have I been this bold and eager with a man but Dorian has awakened the sleeping sex giant within me. If my days are numbered, I want to at least die happy. “Oh, I would do it. But I know Aurora will come looking for me and I don’t want to be disturbed when I… ruin you.” Ruin me? It sounds so threatening and violent. I love it.

Because the plan God has for each of our lives isn't always the same plan we have for ourselves, Grace. Sometimes, our deaths have more of an impact than our births. It can inspire people to do great things, even greater than they would have had the deaths not happened at all.

I’m afraid because, whenever he’s around, I’m not scared anymore. I feel…safe. Like being near him is the most natural thing in the world.

Sometimes, loving people can be as much of a gift as it is a curse. Because some people... you can't help but love. Even if you know it will hurt you in the end.

A black Mercedes Benz 450 SL pulled up. It was your classic hood auto beloved of terrorists, pimps and African dictators.

I blink rapidly, breaking our reverie and force myself to focus on something,anything, other than his beauty. Or his body. A body I want pressed against mine, limbs and tongues twisted and tangled, our flesh contortioned into X-rated abstract art...

When I'm not around you that is when I feel breathless. I liken it to being a fish, and you are my water. When I'm not around you, I feel as though I cannot breathe. And you have to understand the irony in that because I've never in my entire existence ever needed to.

With you,love is a trophy that comes in different sizes, and you're always trying to get the biggest one out there. Mine wasn't the biggest, or the shiniest. For me, love is a ribbon. It doesn't matter what color or size it is, as long as I can pin it to my heart

If I could make you happy, then I'd be a prince. If I could get you to love me, then I'd be a king. If I could spend the rest of my life loving you, then I'd be in heaven. And now that I have you here, knowing that you are happy and that I'm the reason, knowing that you love me, and knowing that I will spend the rest of my life loving you, I understand what it truly means to be blessed.

It's more important to be read than paid.

Breathing is...difficult at the moment. Breathing is a necessity for you humans, and if kissing you causes you to have difficulties, I might have to refrain from doing it again.

The first casualty of war is innocence. Don’t be so eager to find this out. I assure you, Andraste, war is ugly.” Legacy by SL Buckley

Don’t ever lose yourself in somebody else. It’s hard to remember who you used to be if they disappear.

the goal of history is to enable the forward march of humanity towards Progressiveness.

This is not a story for the faint of heart; this is the story of one woman's very real struggle through a world against her, the people who hurt her, her real life demons and the people who showed her that every gray sky, no matter how dark, has a sun waiting to break through.

I know you said you don't feel anything," he whispered. "But can you honestly say that you don't feel this? That this heat, this attraction, is all in my head? Don't think about it; just answer. Tell me what your heart wants to say and not what your head keeps trying to make you believe.

No one writes to make money. Authors write stories to fill the world with imagination for those who have a hard time finding their own.

I nestled my face closer to his neck, wanting to smell his skin, lose myself in the scent and feel of him as we swayed slowly to the beat of music I couldn't hear because his voice was in my mind...and it was the only sound I ever wanted to hear again.

Someone special once told me to dare to dream. For without dreams, we have nothing to look forward to. I’m starting to believe her.

Realization comes when we honestly accept the mistakes of the past and that automatically builds the responsibility that will prevent us from repeating those same mistakes.

SUBJECT: Real original Dear Dark Assholes, I get the point. Showing me that you know how to log onto a computer and utilize Google must’ve taken some pretty keen strategizing on your part. Really, really cool trick. Now leave me the hell alone. -The DL

I owned a Ferrari, a Range Rover, a Mercedes 560SL convertible, a Jeep Cherokee and a Nissan 300ZX. I can't remember the intricate decision tree I had to climb in order to determine which one to drive to work on any given day - it probably had something to do with the weather, or which car had more gas in the tank, or upholstery that best matched whatever shirt I happened to throw on that morning.

What the...? "Holy S***! You're 250 years old!?" He gives me a wink of his beautiful eye in response. "Surprised?" "Um, hell yeah. Ok, that's pretty much disgusting. Chester the Molester. I've been screwing an ancient artefact!" Dorian & Gabriella

If all we have is now, I know I'll never be whole again. And, God... it's worth it. You're worth it. I'll gladly stay broken for you.

Normal people don't date angels.

Denying that you’re in denial is being in denial and is utterly redundant.

Love takes no prisoners, it knows no mercy; it will suffocate you with its truth.

~We struggle against the darkness, to forget the voices that compel us, and even the ones that do not. For we are witches, and our struggle is constant. ~

But I am very persistent. I never give up on the things that I want. This... you and me... it's inevitable. Theren't no use in fighting, Kami. It's going to happen. And when you are madly in love with me, the only thing you'll regret is not falling sooner.

Gabriella, you can be whatever you want to be to me. If you want to be with me, be with me. If you want to keep this light and casual, we can do that. If you want me to just keep fucking you senseless every chance I get, I'll be more than happy to oblige.

But, we fear what we don't understand, and I didn't understand the feelings I had for Blaine.

Life hurts. Hell, it hurts like a motherfucker.

Yeah. I put on JT. Bitches love JT.

I can't live without the sun shining down on my face, and I can't dream without the stars kissing me goodnight.

Life is just a series of choices. We try to always make the best ones, but really we’re just settling for the lesser of two evils. Or at least trying to.

It's the little things that make up your life. The bigger events just connect them.

I like these games we play, the ones that involve our heads and our hearts ~ Page 212

You are my home. Wherever you are, that’s where I’m meant to be.

You are so beautiful, Kami. And so strong. If you only knew how amazing you are...I'll make you see it. I'll make you fee it.

It's my heart. It is the same as yours. I shook my head. No it isn't. Your heart has beaten for fifteen hundred years--and will continue to beat for at least another fifteen hundred--while mine will be lucky to beat for as long as Ellie's has. He kissed my hair and then pressed his cheek against my head. I will see to it that it beats for as long as possible.

So I’m telling you, Kami, I won’t miss you anymore. I won’t hurt for you. I won’t need you like I do. And I won’t love you. Loving you is what caused all this. It’s what ruined us. And I am so sorry for that. I hate myself for failing you. For not being enough to save you. But I won’t fail you again. If this is what you need—for me to never think of you again—then that is what I am going to do. I’ll forget you. I’ll stop loving you like I do. Because, dammit, I do. So much it fucking tears me apart.I hope this is what you want. I know I didn’t get it right the first time, but I promise to try like hell to make it better.Always (Never)

The true artist is one who can evoke those raw emotions in their audience, bring them to their knees, and convey their message to them in a foreign tongue. Or without words at all. That type of power is immeasurable.

The act of concealing truth is known as ‘aavarana’, and that of projecting untruth is called ‘vikshepa’. When these occur at the level of an individual, it is known as ‘avidya’ and when they occur at the level of a group or the world, it is known as ‘maya’.

I know what this is. I know this is my truth. My past. My present. My future. It is what I knew all along and, like a freaking idiot, ignored because my beautiful illusion was so much better than my tragic reality. For once, I had embraced happiness. Bliss. In spite of finding out what I was, finding out that I was a half Light, half Dark inbreed, I was happy. Even with a damn supernatural assassin out for my blood, I was content. Because of him. He made me whole. A new and improved Gabs. A girl that wanted to be good enough. For him. Fuck. Him.

I know I want her body more than I want my next breath. And I know that meeting her, basking in her smiles and wanting her on me like a second skin has forever changed me. But can there ever be more? Can I spend every night counting her freckles, like I once counted the stars? Can I replace my sunrise with the vision of her sleeping beside me, fiery hair, wild and tangled all over her face? Can I swim in those too-big turquoise eyes and drown myself in her laughter every night? I think the biggest question is, How can I not

Life happens. That was much more appropriate. Unfortunately, many of us found that out earlier than some. We found out just how awful life could really be. We found out that monsters were, indeed, real. They walked among us. They looked just like you and me. They came in the form of the people that we loved and trusted the most. The people whose only job was to love and protect us. Funny thing about life is that it never turns out the way you want it to. It’s never fair. It’s harsh and brutal. It kicks you when you’re down. It makes you wish you could give up and part with it just to have a semblance of peace.

Do you want me, baby? Tell me you want me. Tell me you feel this too.

I just want her to touch me, even if it is a lie.

I would go blind before I stopped staring at her.

And then I'd punch him in the neck. Twice. Because I like even numbers.

It reminded me that pain was necessary. Pain was life's curveball. Without it, we would never appreciate what it felt like to be loved.

The full impact of silver--liquid fire, hot and flowing hit me hard in that place in your belly that doesn't exist for food, but for something else entirely. It exists solely to possess the feeling that it barely held in check right then. I don't know what it was. I don't think it has a name.

I'm not looking thru you Kami, I'm looking into you. I'm standing here, wondering how the hell a girl so beautiful could hold so much sadness in her gorgeous green eyes. And I'm asking myself why I want- no- why I NEED to know what's made her so sad. And what I can do to take away every ounce of that sadness. I need to know what it will take for you to let me in, so I can do just that.

The heroin flowing through me, I thought about the last time I saw my father alive. He was drunk and overweight in a restaurant in Beverly Hills, and curling into myself on the bed I thought: What if I had done something that day? I had just sat passively in a restaurant booth as the midday light filled the half-empty dining room, pondering a decision. The decision was: should you disarm him? That was the word I remember: disarm. Should you tell him something that might not be the truth but would get the desired reaction? And what was I going to convince him of, even though it was a lie? Did it matter? Whatever it was, it would constitute a new beginning. The immediate line: You’re my father and I love you. I remember staring at the white tablecloth as I contemplated saying this. Could I actually do it? I didn’t believe it, and it wasn’t true, but I wanted it to be. For one moment, as my father ordered another vodka (it was two in the afternoon; this was his fourth) and started ranting about my mother and the slump in California real estate and how “your sisters” never called him, I realized it could actually happen, and that by saying this I would save him. I suddenly saw a future with my father. But the check came along with the drink and I was knocked out of my reverie by an argument he wanted to start and I simply stood up and walked away from the booth without looking back at him or saying goodbye and then I was standing in sunlight. Loosening my tie as a parking valet pulled up to the curb in the cream-colored 450 SL. I half smiled at the memory, for thinking that I could just let go of the damage that a father can do to a son. I never spoke to him again.

Every man—saint, sadhu, prophet…whatever the garb—who speaks about his actions being directed by the voice of God is simply evading responsibility for his actions. Remember I told you that we create our gods based on which stage of development we are with respect to ethics, morals and spirituality? A

Let’s get drunk,” I state, clinking my glass with his. “Sure you want to do that?” Dorian says with a raised eyebrow. He gives me that look a lot, probably because of all my questionable behavior. “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” I say with a cynical chuckle. “But I know I’m tired of disappointment. And I’m tired of keeping secrets. And I’m tired of fucking things up!” Dorian nods, understanding my frustration. “Do you want me to help you?” he asks quietly. I know what he means. Dorian is offering to fix me like he did the day before. “No,” I shake my head. “I want you to drink with me. Then I want you to do things to me that are as dirty and immoral as I already feel.” I take another hefty gulp and let the searing burn strip away the guilt and shame in my chest. “Ok, let’s get drunk.” And with that Dorian downs the entire contents of his glass and turns on the music.

Two sides of the puzzle come together to form a union that seems protected in perfection and unscathed by life. Here, together, we don't have pasts that scar us or baggage that weighs us down with burdens and regrets. Here, together, our flawed souls find solace in each other. Here, together, we make sense.

The death of these people might have changed the world, Grace, so we might have changed the world, Grace, so we sometimes have to look at death not as something sad, but as something to be glad for. Sometimes death changes our lives in ways we never expect. It can bring with it every emotion; we have to learn to recognize the ones that help us and the ones that hurt us. And we also have to be willing to accept that with everything else, death also brings with it love. That is why we must always be grateful and appreciate it, even if it brings some sadness with it.

When your trust has been betrayed, the only thing to do is live, learn and let go. Otherwise the betrayal done by another will turn into hate for them. But they will not feel this hate, it will only hurt you more, growing bigger and darker. So, live, learn and let go. By living, it means they did not hurt you so deep that you can not move forward. Learn, learn to not trust this person again, and to make more of a sound judgement in the future. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It means that you have let go of the pain it caused. And by not forgetting, you will learn and move forward from the betrayal of the past.

I held my breath, and refused to blink; he placed his hand on the bed to brace himself as he leaned towards me. Slowly, carefully, his lips--soft, warm, and perfect--found their way to mine. I want to say that it was magical, that I saw rainbows and fairy dust or something fantastic like that, but I couldn't. It was more. Much more. It was as though the world has fallen down around us, and everything was frozen in ice. But I wasn't cold. I was blazing hot, the fire starting where our lips joined, where angel met mortal, and I could feel the flames flickering out towards the limbs that I was fighting with desperately to keep still, not wanting them to latch onto him, not wanting to seem out of control because at that moment, I would have given anything to be just that.

What kind of self-respecting man doesn’t read? That’s like saying he doesn’t feel the need to eat or bathe either. Reading is nurturing of the mind…a cleansing of the soul. It opens our eyes to unseen beauty, and our hearts to the untouched pieces of ourselves that we’ve hidden away from the world. A man without words is a man who has no real awareness of anything or anyone outside of himself.

I’m a lot of things – crass, stubborn, brutally honest, egotistical – but one thing I am not, is careless. I know my boundaries, and I never cross them. In a business where lines can be easily blurred, those boundaries are outlined in black Sharpie, traced in gasoline, then set the fuck on fire, ensuring that no one even gets close enough to inhale the fumes of temptation. Yet, here I am, touching, tempting, tasting the limits. Begging to get burned by an angel with a halo of fire.

I didn’t realize how much I could miss a simple touch until I didn’t have it anymore. It’s so easy to let her back in. To let her wiggle her way back into my arms and smile up at me like she is the sun and I am every star in her sky. When you spend your life in the dark, looking up and wishing for something better – something brighter – you don’t realize just how lonely you are. Not until the sun shines, shedding light on all the empty spaces and filling them with beautiful warmth. But when the sun abandons you, everything seems darks and colder than before. Emptier. Lonelier.

I kiss her again just to keep my mouth from admitting that it was. The beginning of the end. The very start of the saddest goodbye in history. Because after tonight, she’ll walk away from me and go back to him, holding a piece of me in the palm of her hand. And whenever I look up at the sky at night, wondering where she is, if she’s happy, if Evan laughs at her corny jokes or smiles whenever she does, that empty space left behind within me will ache with remembrance. Because her light once filled it. She filled me in a way that nobody on this Earth could. And I’ll never feel whole again.