Sw Love Quotes

Want some help with help with that stick in your ass, love?" "No. It's quite comfortable, thank you." "It should be. It's been in there for years." Nix winked at Will. "I hope you'll forgive my wife. She's a bit antisocial." "And water's a bit wet.

My friends and I live in the American SW because we love it, and love it for its own sake - not merely because it's the last region of the forty-eight states to be buried under asphalt and greed.

Love is always a battle.

Something about her reached me on a deeper level than I had ever experienced and it was frightening. It was exciting. It was dangerous.

Some people wallow in that sort of tragedy. They let tragedy define their whole lives.

The point on which the town of Seal Cove is built, shelters a small harbor on the south, and a series of lovely secluded coves on the north, one of which lends its name to the town.

As Lao Tzu wrote ‘to love strongly gives you strength. To be loved strongly gives you courage.’ So may you both grow stronger and more courageous with each passing year.

Linc was so amazed at what he saw and heard, “This is sooo cool. I love this place. This looks way better than a day spotting weird people at Walmart.

Humanity is capable of such mindless horror. We embody the worst inclinations of all living things on earth — cruelty, hubris, greed, unspeakable violence, and disregard for consequences. And then we turn around and embody the best of all living things on earth — compassion, music, art, literature, scientific inquiry, invention and great imagination. What a burden it is to be human. What a privilege.

Don’t wait for the perfect time to go after your dreams. There is never a perfect time. Just get on with it, and when you achieve one dream, always have another waiting in the wings. There’s nothing worse than having no goal, nothing to strive for.

He sighed, Selange was perplexing, and an adulterous prude seemed a contradictory term. She had a fierce spirit one minute and the next she cried like a baby. Damn, he missed her silly ass. [Right now, he could see so damn clear--he wanted the crybaby-fierce adulterous prude in his arms-- He loved this goddamn woman. Period. End of story!]

Finally, in late May or early June our breathlessly anticipated gilt-edged invitation to the July 29 wedding arrived. Soon after, we received a silver-edged card inviting us to a private formal ball at Buckingham Palace two nights before the wedding. We had been expecting the first invitation but were totally surprised by the second one. For both invitations, we had to reply to the Lord Chamberlain, Saint James’s Palace, London, SW1. For the wedding, dress was specified as: Uniform, Morning Dress or Lounge Suit. For the ball, dress was: Uniform or Evening Dress. Tiaras Optional. We had no idea what a “lounge suit” was, nor did I have a tiara handy—fortunately tiaras were optional. Help!

Daniel.” “Ma.” “Are you well?” She was angry. If the straight-to-voicemail treatment for the last week hadn’t tipped me off, her tone now was a dead giveaway. “I’m great,” I lied. “And how are you?” “Fine.” I laughed, silently. If she heard me laugh, she’d have my balls. “Did you get my messages?” “Yes. Thank you for calling.” I waited for a minute, for her to say more. She didn’t. “I leave you twenty-one messages, three calls a day, and that’s all you got for me?” “I’m not going to apologize for needing some time to cool off and I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Who do you think I am? Willy Wonka? You missed my birthday.” She sniffed. And these weren’t crocodile tears either. I’d hurt her feelings. Ahh, there it is. The acrid taste of guilt. “Ma . . .” “I don’t ask for a lot. I love you. I love my children. I want you to call me on my birthday.” “I know.” I was clutching my chest so my heart didn’t fall out and bleed all over the grass. “What could have been so important that you couldn’t spare a few minutes for your mother? I was so worried.” “I did call you—” “Don’t shit on a plate and tell me it’s fudge, Daniel. You called after midnight.” I hadn’t come up with a plausible lie for why I hadn’t called on her birthday, because I wasn’t a liar. I hated lying. Premeditated lying, coming up with a story ahead of time, crafting it, was Seamus’s game. If I absolutely had to lie, I subscribed to spur-of-the-moment lying; it made me less of a soulless maggot. “That’s true, Ma. But I swear I—” “Don’t you fucking swear, Daniel. Don’t you fucking do that. I raised you kids better.” “Sorry, sorry.” “What was so important, huh?” She heaved a watery sigh. “I thought you were in a ditch, dying somewhere. I had Father Matthew on standby to give you your last rights. Was your phone broken?” “No.” “Did you forget?” Her voice broke on the last word and it was like being stabbed. The worst. “No, I sw—ah, I mean, I didn’t forget.” Lie. Lying lie. Lying liar. “Then what?” I grimaced, shutting my eyes, taking a deep breath and said, “I’m married.” Silence. Complete fucking silence. I thought maybe she wasn’t even breathing. Meanwhile, in my brain: Oh. Shit. What. The. Fuck. Have. I. Done. . . . However. However, on the other hand, I was married. I am married. Not a lie. Yeah, we hadn’t had the ceremony yet, but the paperwork was filed, and legally speaking, Kat and I were married. I listened as my mom took a breath, said nothing, and then took another. “Are you pulling my leg with this?” On the plus side, she didn’t sound sad anymore. “No, no. I promise. I’m married. I—uh—was getting married.” “Wait a minute, you got married on my birthday?” Uh . . . “Uh . . .” “Daniel?” “No. We didn’t get married on your birthday.” Shit. Fuck. “We’ve been married for a month, and Kat had an emergency on Wednesday.” Technically, not lies. “That’s her name? Cat?” “Kathleen. Her name is Kathleen.” “Like your great aunt Kathleen?” Kat wasn’t a thing like my great aunt. “Yeah, the name is spelled the same.” “Last month? You got married last month?” She sounded bewildered, like she was having trouble keeping up. “Is she—is she Irish?” “No.” “Oh. That’s okay. Catholic?” Oh jeez, I really hadn’t thought this through. Maybe it was time for me to reconsider my spur-of-the-moment approach to lying and just surrender to being a soulless maggot. “No. She’s not Catholic.” “Oh.” My mom didn’t sound disappointed, just a little surprised and maybe a little worried. “Daniel, I—you were married last month and I’m only hearing about it now? How long have you known this woman?” I winced. “Two and a half years.” “Two and a half years?” she screeched...

You think I’ll get tired of it?” “You don’t have to love it forever. When the curtains aren’t right anymore, pull them down and start over.

Wexler’s mind was a still pond. He could have taught a Buddhist monk how to be in the here and now.

All families are crazy, Audrey. They’re crazy with love, and wherever there’s a lot of love, there’s the possibility of pain.

When he stops swinging fists and starts talking about love and sacrificing for others, that’s when you should pucker up for the real punch, because you can’t avoid your own fist if you’ve been convinced you deserve it.

This was all he needed. To be here, to be with her. To watch the sunset bring a blush to her ivory skin. If not for his dreams, he’d withdraw from the Order today. Now. The Lost Twenty would be the Lost Twenty-One. Let the scandal come; it wouldn’t destroy their lives. Not their real lives. It would destroy only the lives they’d had before each other: those separate years that now meant nothing at all.

Since the fall of Darth Bane more than a millennium ago, there have been hundreds of thousands of Jedi—hundreds of thousands of Jedi feeding the light with each work of their hands, with each breath, with every beat of their hearts, bringing justice, building civil society, radiating peace, acting out of selfless love for all living things—and in all these thousand years, there have been only two Sith at any time. Only two. Jedi create light, but the Sith do not create darkness. They merely use the darkness that is always there. That has always been there. Greed and jealousy, aggression and lust and fear—these are all natural to sentient beings. The legacy of the jungle. Our inheritance from the dark.

Love is understanding the other. The better I understand them, the better I can show them who I am and the faster we can all get to kumbayaing.

Ah, but ‘tis said that anyone who loves and serves America is American. You, of all people, should know that, General.” “Touche’ Brother.

This story happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. It is already over. Nothing can be done to change it. It is a story of love and loss, brotherhood and betrayal, courage and sacrifice and the death of dreams. It is a story of the blurred line between our best and our worst.