Sue Ellen Quotes

Southern Mamas are known for being subtle, like a freight train.

Maybe I enjoy being pestered. Occasionally." Sue Ellen rolled her eyes. " I can talk dirty to you, Hank. That takes no skill.

Lass, lass! You are more desirable than any woman I have e'er known." He drew back to look at her. "E'er, I say, do you hear me? Ne'er have I been more tempted!

Release Lady Mirabelle and the kitten or I’ll run you through, skewering your belly, pinching out your life.

In my life, water has had the character of punctuation.

Sue Ellen looked at me with utter disgust."I wanted to see what all the excitement was about. What a dud. I'm never sleeping with you again. Phooey on that.

Sue Ellen scowled. "Resort brunch is for employees only, not for someone's girlfriend to snorful up to the trough.

Have you spoken with any of these girls?" Sue Ellen asked incredulously."Please do so before suggesting anything requiring thought from their part.

...a guy who probably thinks of me as his prospective son-in-law." "Probably thinks? When is the last time you saw this guy?" "Last summer." "I didn't know you were engaged last summer." "I wasn't." Sue Ellen thought for a second. "THAT is shameful and disgraceful.

curls lip and sways clutching a whisky sour. "JR, you bastard!

Look,” cried Buster. “Arthur just went into the witch’s house!” “She’ll probably put Arthur and D.W. into her oven, just like Hansel and Gretel,” said Sue Ellen. “Maybe she’s using them for weird scientific experiments,” said the Brain. “I bet she locked them in the cellar to starve,” said Buster. “Maybe we should follow him,” said Francine. “Maybe we should call the police,” said Muffy. Everyone was too scared to move.

Ellen sue always pale, surveyed herself in the glass in her mother's room. She was pale - but brides are always pale, aren't they? She knew she loved Liam, they were right for each other, and yet -- and yet -- she was scared. She was going away from the city she loved and the people who loved her, with Liam, wh wasn't even related to her few months back.

Arthur finished his doughnut as Mrs. Tibble opened the door and turned on the porch light. She gave Arthur and D.W. a big hug. “See you Saturday to rake leaves,” said Arthur. “You’re still alive!” said Francine. “I can’t believe you went in there alone,” said the Brain. “You’re so brave,” said Sue Ellen. “What’s in the bag?” asked Buster. “Probably eyeballs, hearts and brains!” said Francine. “It’s easy to find out,” said Arthur. “Just close your eyes and reach in unless you’re too scared.” “We’ve been to every house now. Can we take the shortcut home through the cemetery?” asked D.W. “The cemetery! On Halloween! Are you guys crazy?” asked Francine. “Follow me,” said Arthur as he marched ahead. “The cemetery is a great place. People are just dying to get in.

Perché il predatore di Red Bank Avenue non sceglie le sue vittime a caso, o non del tutto. Sapeva che Ellen viveva da sola. Sapeva che Cary viveva da solo. Potrebbe aver scoperto che la madre di Pete Steinman aveva un problema con l’alcol. Sapeva che Bonnie aveva rotto da poco con il fidanzato, e che i suoi rapporti con la madre erano parecchio tesi. In altre parole, il predatore disponeva di parecchie informazioni. E sceglieva i suoi bersagli.

Now I think I was wrong. I think my luck was built into me, the keystone that cohered my bones, the golden thread that stitched together the secret tapestries of my DNA; I think it was the gem glittering at the fount of me, coloring everything I did and every word I said. And if somehow that has been excised from me, and if in fact I am still here without it, then what am I? Acknowledgments I owe huge thanks to the amazing Darley Anderson and everyone at the agency, especially Mary, Emma, Pippa, Rosanna and Kristina; Andrea Schulz, my wonderful editor, whose enormous skill, patience and wisdom have made this book so much better than I thought it could be; Ben Petrone, who is just plain great, and everyone at Viking; Susanne Halbleib and everyone at Fischer Verlage; Katy Loftus, for her faith in this book and for putting her finger on the one thing that would make the most difference; my brother, Alex French, for the computer bits and for sending me the link to the case of Bella in the Wych Elm; Fearghas Ó Cochláin, for the medical bits; Ellen at ancestrysisters.com, for genealogy help; Dave Walsh, for his enormous help with the intricacies of police procedure; Ciara Considine, Clare Ferraro and Sue Fletcher,

The word 'figure' from choreography . . . means something like a momentary attitude of the body or a fragment of a dance.

When we're growing up there are all sorts of people telling us what to do when really what we need is space to work out who to be.

Rachael dropped her handbag on the kitchen bench and sat on a stool. “How do you cope with everything?” “I have staff. Donna is still here. She helps in the gift shop. Pete and Courtney work on the farm. They work longer hours when the lavender is harvested. Karen and Sue - you haven’t met them - help me make lavender candles and pot pourri

The rehearsals went from bad to worse. “When the Pilgrims and Indians decided to celebrate their friendship,” said Francine, “they began to hunt for a turkey.” “We cooked beans and pumpkin pies,” whispered Sue Ellen. “And the Pilgrim men went off to hunt for a turkey.” “We made corn bread and picked cranberries,” said Muffy. “Oops! And the Indian braves went on their own turkey hunt.” Then it was time for Francine to present the turkey. “When the Indians and Pilgrims finally found a turkey,” she began, “there was great rejoicing. Today when we think of Thanksgiving, we think of turkey.” She glared at Arthur. “Don’t worry,” Arthur promised. “I told you I’d find a turkey in time.” As a last resort Arthur decided to rent a turkey. But that wasn’t such a good idea. “If you don’t get a turkey by tomorrow’s performance,” said Francine, “I quit.” Everyone agreed. No turkey--no play.

The next morning, Francine, Muffy, and Buster stood before Arthur. They weren’t taking any chances. “Do we have a turkey?” they asked. Arthur just smiled. The whole school filed into the auditorium. “OOOoo!” said the kids when the lights went out. “Shhhh!” said the teachers as the curtain went up. “In 1620, we sailed to America on the Mayflower,” recited Buster, proudly. “Phew!” said Arthur. The play continued smoothly. Muffy didn’t drop the cranberries. The Brain had his costume on correctly. Sue Ellen said her lines in a loud, clear voice. And Francine had even taken off her movie-star glasses. Then it came time for Francine’s big speech. She crossed her fingers and began. “When the Indians and Pilgrims finally found a turkey, there was great rejoicing. Today, when we think of Thanksgiving, we think of turkey.” There was a lot of fumbling behind the curtain. Arthur took a deep breath. He walked onstage. As soon as he did, the audience began to laugh. Arthur turned bright red. This was going to be even worse than he had thought it would be. “The turkey,” Arthur began, “is a symbol, a symbol of…of…” “Of togetherness and Thanksgiving!” said a chorus of voices behind him. Arthur turned around and smiled. “I guess Mom was right. The world is full of turkeys! Okay, turkeys, all together now. Let’s hear that last line, loud and clear.” “Happy Thanksgiving!

wrote him off the day he left and so did Ellen and

Ellen intreccia le sue dita alle mie e, quando mi volto per sorriderle, provo un improvviso impeto d'amore. Non è amore, mi dico. È gratitudine. Per Ellen non hai mai provato vero amore come per Layla. Ammettilo, Finn, non sei mai stato innamorato di Ellen. Le vuoi bene perché le sei riconoscente, tutto qui.

Suffering holds within it a hidden, transformative treasure, an unrecognized gem. Jesus demonstrates how to suffer in how He walks from Gethsemane to Golgotha. Then, in the Word of the Cross, He raises Suffering to a Redemptive superpower. Only if we give assent to uniting our imperfect suffering to Jesus’ perfect offering can we open to the superpower Redemptive Suffering contains and alter the eternal destiny of those towards whom we unleash love, by offering our suffering for them. Dr. Sue Ellen Nolan, MTS, Ed.D

I felt sorry for this little man with the big name as he strutted his stuff, feeding hungrily off the adoration he saw in others’ eyes. For all his funniness, he seemed to me very sad.

About the Author   Allie Mackay is the pen name for USA Today bestselling author Sue-Ellen Welfonder who writes Scottish medieval romance under her real name.  A former flight attendant, she has three grand passions: Scotland, the paranormal, and animals.  All can be found in her medieval romances and the paranormals she writes as Allie Mackay.

He held up his glass to the light, then gave it a sniff. 'It's got peach, oak, vanilla, lots of vanilla, Sue Ellen loves her vanilla...