Tasting My Own Medicine Quotes

What eats you?” He raises an eyebrow, giving me a taste of my own medicine. “Existential despair.

Doctors are great--as long as you don't need them.

It might not be the circle of life,” Lamb says. “But it is the food chain. I didn’t see you feeling sorry for that pig we had for lunch. Or that rabbit you had for dessert. Everything eats something else.” I swing my head towards him. “What eats you?” He raises an eyebrow, giving me a taste of my own medicine. “Existential despair.

My parents are much too afraid of an argument to say anything, which is a shame, because I think people like that should always be given a taste of their own medicine.

Everything eats something else.” I swing my head towards him. “What eats you?” He raises an eyebrow, giving me a taste of my own medicine. “Existential despair.

I can’t fucking believe his nerve, booking a bikini wax along with everything else. He thinks he owns my pussy already? He thinks he gets to decide how it looks? I should wait until he’s sleeping, then slap hot wax on his balls. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

Mr. Severin smiled, tiny constellations of reflected chandelier lights glinting in his eyes. "Since I've told you about my tastes... what are yours?" Cassandra looked down at her folded hands in her lap. "I like trivial things, mostly," she said with a self-deprecating laugh. "Handiwork, such as embroidery, knitting, and needlepoint. I sketch and paint a little. I like naps and teatime, and taking a lazy stroll on a sunny day, and reading books on a rainy afternoon. But I would like two have my own family someday, and... I want to help other people far more than I'm able to now. I take baskets of food and medicine to tenants and acquaintances in the village, but that's not enough. I want to provide real help to people who need it." She sighed shortly. "I suppose that's not very interesting. Pandora's the exciting, amusing twin, the one people remember. I've always been... well, the one who's not Pandora.

Ha!’ cackled the fiend, ‘I expect you’d like revenge on that husband of yours. Murder shouldn’t go unpunished, and no creature enjoys delivering chastisement as much as I. What about giving him a taste of his own medicine? If you’d be so kind as to lend me your body, I’ll set him dancing to my tune.’ The wife’s spectre grimaced and nodded, at which the wicked Likho stripped off the nightgown, then the dead woman’s pliant skin, peeling back the flaccid folds. These it left in a slack heap. It gobbled her flesh and sucked the bones clean. These it hid behind the stove, before inserting itself inside the empty, wrinkled carcass, taking the former position of the corpse. Its fat tongue swiped the last juices from around its lips. When the husband returned home, all was as it had been; there was not a speck of blood to be seen, although the strangest smell of rotten eggs lingered

What if I regarded my own death with reverence instead of fear? I wondered. Or, even more radically, what if I had some sort of gratitude for the transience of my life? Would it change what I worried and cared about? Wasn’t it necessary to think about this when I was in the midst of building a life? Or rather, living my life? And the more I thought about mortality and what it had come to mean to others and what I thought it meant to me, I realized that life was simultaneously so vast and so small. It was daybreak after a good sleep and exhaustion as the stars emerged. It was the first crisp bite of an apple, the taste of butter on toast. It was the way a tree's shadow moved along the wall of a room as the afternoon passed. It was the smell of a baby's skin, the feeling of a heart fluttering with anticipation or nerves. It was the steady rhythm of a lover's breathing during sleep. It was both solitude in a wide green field and the crowding together of bodies in a church. It was equally common and singular, a shared tumult and a shared peace. It was the many things I'd ignored or half appreciated as I chased the bigger things. It was infinity in a seashell.

Giving him a taste of his own medicine, I say, “I’m thirty, excellent at cooking, and beach sand makes me itch. My favorite color is green.

I thought I was dreaming.” “Weren’t you?” she purred. Gripping her hips, I steeled my voice. “Is this a game to you, Amy?” “Sure as hell seems like it to you, Liam. Hot and cold all day long. Maybe you needed a taste of your own medicine.

I thought I was dreaming.” “Weren’t you?” she purred. Gripping her hips, I steeled my voice. “Is this a game to you, Amy?” “Sure as hell seems like it to you, Liam. Hot and cold all day long. Maybe you needed a taste of your own medicine.

I am grateful for the people who have given me a taste of my own medicine. Gratefulness has a way of making it go down that much easier.

No, they were," Avery said, clearly confusing her. As he waited for someone to answer the phone, he gave Janice his most cocky grin, a very clear watch-me-get-what-I-want expression. "La Bella Luna, can I help you?" The deep rich timbre turned him on instantly, and his gaze strayed to the corner of his desk, Janice completely forgotten. "Good Morning, this is Avery Adams. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" He already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear Kane's voice again. Avery thought about Kane's hands and how competently he'd handled that bottle of wine. He imagined them using the same care as he picked up the phone from the cradle. The air in the room sizzled, his heartbeat picked up, and his body grew hard with need. He had never in his life been so immediately taken with another. Avery prayed Kane might be at least bi-sexual. Straight men were much harder to work into his bed—not impossible, but harder—and he definitely wanted Kane Dalton in his bed. "Hello, Mr. Adams. This Kane Dalton, would you prefer I transfer this call to someone else?" The soothing voice on the other end of the phone became tense. "No, you're who I was hoping to speak with. It seems you and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot, and I'd like to set things right between us," Avery said, adjusting his gaze to stare out the open window. "I have no issue with you, sir," Kane responded back immediately. "There's a large bouquet of rather expensive lilies sitting in my office that might say otherwise." He cut his eyes back to the flowers on the small conference table. Kane didn't respond this time, there was just silence. Good. Kane got a taste of his own medicine. "Listen, I'd like to book a regular table in your restaurant a couple of days a week. It doesn't have to be the same days each week, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself a few nights ago and got reacquainted with several families from my youth." He was met with more silence, then he heard the rustle of pages being turned. "Sir, I'm sorry, but I just don't have—" "I'll make it worth your while." Avery cut him off, his eyes still on the flowers, but seeing the man who sent them instead of the lovely blooms. "It's not that, sir. We're just incredibly booked." Kane started with the excuses again, but Avery wasn't taking no for an answer. "Please lose the sir. My name's Avery. I'd like you to use it." Avery's voice turned lower and huskier as he spoke from his deepest desires. "Avery," Kane said as if testing the word. "We don't have the space available. We're booked solidly for several months." "No one's that booked," Avery called him on the lie, and left it right there between them. After a long extended pause, Kane finally answered, "You're right, let's get you in Monday and Wednesday evenings. Does that suit you?" "You sure do," Avery said. Now that he'd managed a firm reservation, it was time to draw Kane in. Not surprisingly, he was met with silence. "I'll take whatever days you offer." In fact, I'll take whatever you are willing to give. As the thought faded, Avery realized those were actually terrible days to be seen out and about. "Seven o'clock?" Kane asked, ignoring everything he said. "Whatever works," Avery replied. "All right, would you like to come in tomorrow night?" Kane asked. His tone was back to all business. "Absolutely!

She didn't have to knock; she had her own key. How thoroughly she had replaced me. She shut the door behind her and I gulped. It was no more than I'd done to him, I had to accept. Substantially less, in fact. So this was how he felt in January when I walked out. Watching me go, believing I'd soon be in another man's arms, my mind no longer dwelling on him because Daniel was there, the way his mind was no longer dwelling on me because Valentina was there. That I had been so sickeningly cruel without even knowing it; that was a cold, hard shock. Such an ugly bite to it, the taste of my own medicine.

them, Xander and I figured that you both needed a taste of your own medicine.” “Xander knew about this?” I was in shock. “What?” “I thought it would be a good idea.” He sighed. “Like I said, I wanted to give you a taste

I’ve spent the last eight years of my life thinking about how I could ever inflict the same amount of pain on Edward Rousseau as he has on my family. It’s one of the only things I felt like I had left when my life was falling apart… my hatred. I held on to it like a raft on a sinking ship. Her father’s always deserved whatever fucked-up karma was headed his way. I just never thought that it would be in the form of me. Until now. It seemed almost too perfect for this, for her, to just fall into my lap like this. It’s like the universe was presenting the perfect opportunity to me, wrapped with a bow on top. And I’d be a fucking fool not to take it. What better way to get revenge on the man who ruined my life, who fucked up any good I ever had, who fucked up my family’s reputation than to give him a taste of his very own medicine. What would it look like if I took Edward Rousseau’s precious, untouched good girl and dirtied her up? The idea began with the first little granule of information—her name—and has since morphed into something else entirely. I’m going to ruin her the very same way her father ruined my family. Every bit of information I learn from this point forward, I’m planning to weaponize and use against OU’s golden girl to get the revenge I deserve. Granted, I know she’s not just going to stumble over to this side of the tracks for a guy like me, so I know I’m going to have to put in work, probably be slightly less of an asshole, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. Although something tells me she likes going toe to toe with me, even if she doesn’t realize it yet, or if she does, she’d rather bite off her tongue than admit it.