Unfriend Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Unfriend. Here they are! All 200 of them:

At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.
Lemony Snicket
Sometimes your dearest friend whom you reveal most of your secrets to becomes so deadly and unfriendly without knowing that they were not really your friend.
Michael Bassey Johnson
Roarke's brow cocked as he noted Casto take in the black satin that slithered over Eve's body. In the manner of men or unfriendly male dogs, Roarke showed his teeth.
J.D. Robb (Immortal in Death (In Death, #3))
Once there was a young warrior. Her teacher told her that she had to do battle with fear. She didn’t want to do that. It seemed too aggressive; it was scary; it seemed unfriendly. But the teacher said she had to do it and gave her the instructions for the battle. The day arrived. The student warrior stood on one side, and fear stood on the other. The warrior was feeling very small, and fear was looking big and wrathful. They both had their weapons. The young warrior roused herself and went toward fear, prostrated three times, and asked, "May I have permission to go into battle with you?" Fear said, "Thank you for showing me so much respect that you ask permission." Then the young warrior said, "How can I defeat you?" Fear replied, "My weapons are that I talk fast, and I get very close to your face. Then you get completely unnerved, and you do whatever I say. If you don’t do what I tell you, I have no power. You can listen to me, and you can have respect for me. You can even be convinced by me. But if you don’t do what I say, I have no power." In that way, the student warrior learned how to defeat fear.
Pema Chödrön (When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times)
By March, the worst of the winter would be over. The snow would thaw, the rivers begin to run and the world would wake into itself again. Not that year. Winter hung in there, like an invalid refusing to die. Day after grey day the ice stayed hard; the world remained unfriendly and cold.
Neil Gaiman (Odd and the Frost Giants)
And why did he have to call me “quiet”? I hated being called quiet. People always said it like it was some kind of deficiency—like just because I didn’t put everything out there right away, I was unfriendly or arrogant. My mom had understood. You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room
Jenna Evans Welch (Love & Gelato (Love & Gelato, #1))
Then you and I should bid good-bye for a little while?" I suppose so, sir." And how do people perform that ceremony of parting, Jane? Teach me; I'm not quite up to it." They say, Farewell, or any other form they prefer." Then say it." Farewell, Mr. Rochester, for the present." What must I say?" The same, if you like, sir." Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present; is that all?" Yes." It seems stingy, to my notions, and dry, and unfriendly. I should like something else: a little addition to the rite. If one shook hands for instance; but no--that would not content me either. So you'll do nothing more than say Farwell, Jane?" It is enough, sir; as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many." Very likely; but it is blank and cool--'Farewell.
Charlotte Brontë (Jane Eyre)
Jace you already behave as if you‘ve never heard the word ‘fear.‘ I fail to see how we‘re going to be able to tell the difference if it does work on you.” (Luke talking about the rune Clary just created) Alec stifled what sounded like a laugh. Jace simply smiled a tight unfriendly smile. “I‘ve heard the word ‘fear,’” he said. “I simply choose to believe it doesn’t apply to me.” “Exactly the problem,” said Luke. -pg.283-284-
Cassandra Clare (City of Ashes (The Mortal Instruments, #2))
Negative people can only infest you with discouragements when they find you around... Just get lost and get saved!
Israelmore Ayivor (The Great Hand Book of Quotes)
But unfriendly is usually one of those things you pick up on right away. You know, like B.O. There's no hiding it if it's there.
Sarah Dessen (Lock and Key)
These folk are hewers of trees and hunters of beasts; therefore we are their unfriends, and if they will not depart we shall afflict them in all ways that we can.
J.R.R. Tolkien (The Silmarillion)
Във вестниците, които обработвах преди време пишеше, че unfriend е думата на 2009 ...Разприятелявам се ... С времето приятелите изчезват по различен начин. Някои внезапно, все едно никога не ги е имало. Други постепенно, с неудобство, извинително ... Спират да звънят. Първо не разбираш. После започваш да проверяваш дали не ти е паднала батерията на телефона. Остра липса в 5 следобед. В началото трае близо час, после по-малко. Но никога не изчезва.
Georgi Gospodinov (Физика на тъгата)
الفيس بوك ليسَ عالم واقعي إِجباري ، لا أَحد يفرض عليكَ البقاء فيه إن كان يُزعجك ،لا أَحد يُجبرك على قراءة كلمات لا تُعجبك ، صفحة لا ترتاح للبقاء فيها ، فقط إضغط unlike سوف تشعر بالراحة ! صديق لا تطيق وجوده ، لا أحد يجبرك على إحتماله ، فقط إضغط unfriend لن تُضطر للإصابة بالغثيان من وجوده ! هكذا الأُمور بكل بساطة ، المهم أن تكون مرتاحاً للمكان الذي تتواجد فيه ، أن ترتب المكان وفقاً لما تُحب وترضى ..!
نبال قندس
His dark eyes challenged me. They were weapons that could hurt me. Here was the worst thing about them: I could tell that if Johnafter loved you, his dark eyes would be beautiful and friendly and warm. So every time he cut me down with a look that was cold and unfriendly and ugly, it was a double insult, a reminder of what I could never have. I found myself avoiding his dark eyes when I could.
Jennifer Echols (Going Too Far)
He told them tales of bees and flowers, the ways of trees, and the strange creatures of the Forest, about the evil things and the good things, things friendly and things unfriendly, cruel things and kind things, and secrets hidden under brambles.
J.R.R. Tolkien (The Lord of the Rings)
New Yorkers, I figured, just pretended to be unfriendly.
Jeannette Walls (The Glass Castle)
These times are unfriendly toward Worlds alternative to this one
Thomas Pynchon (Mason & Dixon)
He seemed a part of the mute melancholy landscape, an incarnation of it's frozen woe, with all that was warm and sentient in him fast bound below the surface; but there was nothing nothing unfriendly in his silence. I simply felt that he lived in a depth of moral isolation too remote for casual access, and I had the sense that his loneliness was not merely the result of his personal plight, tragic as I guessed that to be, but had in it, as Harmon Gow had hinted, the profound accumulated cold of many Starkfield winters.
Edith Wharton (Ethan Frome)
In fact, I love all repose and all that reposes, all thrift and moderation, and am in my inmost self, unfriendly toward any haste and agitation.
Robert Walser (The Walk and Other Stories)
I think everyone in the world is friends if you can only get them to see you don't want to be un-friends.
E. Nesbit (The Railway Children)
The humanities are like the great old Paris Flea Market where, amidst masses of junk, people with a good eye found cast away treasures...They are like a refugee camp where all the geniuses driven out of their jobs and countries by unfriendly regimes are idling.
Allan Bloom (The Closing of the American Mind)
Introverts aren't unfriendly, they just don't give a damn whether or not you like them.
Jim Lyon
Toad, with no one to check his statements or to criticize in an unfriendly spirit, rather let himself go. Indeed, much that he related belonged more properly to the category of what-might-have-happened-had-I-only-thought-of-it-in-time-instead-of-ten-minutes-afterwards. Those are always the best and raciest adventures; and why should they not be truly ours, as much as the somewhat inadequate things that really come off?
Kenneth Grahame (The Wind in the Willows)
[My guilty pleasure is a] deep, eco-unfriendly, hot bath. Preferably with a glass of champagne and someone sitting on the loo seat gossiping.
Prue Leith
I hated being called quiet. People always said it like it was some kind of deficiency - like just because I didn't put everything out there right away, I was unfriendly or arrogant. My mom had understood. You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room.
Jenna Evans Welch (Love & Gelato (Love & Gelato, #1))
Manhattan in the morning is a living stream of Purpose; everyone's got a place to be and a problem on their mind. That doesn't mean it's and unfriendly place -- just busy and preoccupied. Personally, I love it. I'm a social creature but there are times and places you just don't want to do more than grunt at your fellow human being.
Laura Anne Gilman
I've got plenty.” Isabelle smiled, kicking her feet up so that her anklets jingled like Christmas bells. "These, for instance. The left one is gold, which is poisonous to demons, and the right one is blessed iron, in case I run across any unfriendly vampires or even faeries, faeries hate iron. They both have strength runes carved into them, so I can pack a hell of a kick. " "Demon hunting and fashion," Clary said. "I never would have thought they went together.
Cassandra Clare (City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments, #1))
... unfriend е думата на 2009. Разприятелявам се. Струва ми се, че съм правил само това в последните 10 години. С времето приятелите изчезват по различен начин. Някои внезапно, все едно никога не ги е имало. Други постепенно, с неудобство, извинително... [...] Остра липса в 5 следобед. В началото трае близо час, после по-малко. Но никога не изчезва. Като с цигарите, които си отказал от години, но продължаваш да ги сънуваш.
Georgi Gospodinov
Once she exclaimed, "But I always thought that sorceresses were evil!" "What do you mean 'evil'?" Lynet has never considered the question. "You know," she said, after a moment, "unfriendly to people." "People!" repeated Morgana derisively. "As if humans were all that mattered. Just once I'd like to see people judged by how friendly they are to sorceresses.
Gerald Morris (The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf (The Squire's Tales, #3))
He told me how special you are," he said, flashing Shay an unfriendly smile. "Because of your great-great-times-a-hundred-grandmother Eira who got us into this mess when she became a demon's mistress." "Thanks for reminding me," Shay said. "So now you know why you and Calla were supposed to cut my throat instead of a cake at your wedding. Too bad that didn't happen." Ren Stiffened. "I'm not sorry you made it out of Vail alive. As for the rest of it ... we'll see how that turns out, won't we?
Andrea Cremer (Bloodrose (Nightshade #3; Nightshade World #6))
Is there a reason we’re taking the alley?” he asked. “The air is a tad ripe out here.” “Unfriendly eyes out front.” “Enforcers?” “A ten-year-old boy.” “Oh, yes. Terrifying.” “He’s someone’s spy,” she said.
Lindsay Buroker (The Emperor's Edge (The Emperor's Edge, #1))
You poor girl, what sort of aged, unfriendly Libraries have you met in short life? A silent Library is a sad Library ... A Library should be full of exclamations! ... A Library should be full of now-just-a-minutes and that-can't-be-rights and scientifick folk running skelter to prove somebody wrong... A Library should not shush ; it should roar !
Catherynne M. Valente (The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two (Fairyland, #3))
Most craft give a nod, however brief and unfriendly, towards beauty. Vogon ships did not nod towards beauty. They pulled on ski masks and mugged beauty in a dark alley They spat in the eye of beauty and bludgeoned their wait through the notions of aesthetics and aerodynamics. Vogon cruisers did not so much travel through space as defile it and toss it aside.
Eoin Colfer (And Another Thing... (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #6))
It's easy to Deactivate account, Unfriend someone, Delete a number, Ignore a call... But... Moving on and erasing that person from your heart seem impossible...
Lovely afg
How easily we can remove someone from our lives today. Within a click. I wish it was that easy. Friend. Unfriend. Like. Unlike. Love. Unlove.
Sajan Kc. (After Love)
If you are observing someone you naturally dislike, or who reminds you of someone unpleasant in your past, you will tend to see almost any cue as unfriendly or hostile. You will do the opposite for people you like. In these exercises you must strive to subtract your personal preferences and prejudices about people.
Robert Greene (The Laws of Human Nature: Robert Greene)
If a negative viewer looks at you with an ugly fiendish eye, find a way and pluck off his eyes, or better still, protect your good image.
Michael Bassey Johnson
Enemy: A friend whose mask has fallen
Bangambiki Habyarimana (The Great Pearl of Wisdom)
Never be an insincere friend, never be manipulative, one day you will be discovered and lose everything
Bangambiki Habyarimana (Book of Wisdom)
I could no longer afford to be jealous or unfriendly, because, as soon as I was, a bandage came down over my eyes, and I was bound hand and foot and cast aside. All at once a black hole opened, and I was helpless inside it. But when I was happy and serene, approached people with confidence and thought well of them, I was rewarded with light.
Jacques Lusseyran (And There Was Light: Autobiography of Jacques Lusseyran: Blind Hero of the French Resistance)
Unfriending me when I didn’t even know we were friends? It’s like breaking wind when you’re home alone. If I can’t smell you, knock yourself out.
George Takei (Oh Myyy!)
Saint took a seat at the main faro table at the Society club. “What the devil is a ladies' political tea?” Tristan Carroway, Viscount Dare, finished placing his wager, then sat back, reaching for his glass of port. “Do I look like a dictionary?” “You're domesticated.” Saint motioned for a glass of his own, despite unfriendly looks from the tables' other players. “What is it?” “I'm not domesticated; I'm in love. You should try it. Does wonders for your outlook on life.” “I'll take your word for it, thank you.
Suzanne Enoch (London's Perfect Scoundrel (Lessons in Love, #2))
If you aren't destroying your enemies, it's because you have been conquered and assimilated, you do not even have an idea of who your enemies are. You have been brainwashed into believing you are your own enemy, and you are set against yourself. The enemy is laughing at you as you tear yourself to pieces. That is the most effective warfare an enemy can launch on his foes: confounding them.
Bangambiki Habyarimana (Pearls Of Eternity)
What’ll it be? Beer? Whiskey?” “No, I want something tasty.” “I swear to God, Wellsy, if you order peach schnapps or something girly like that, I will officially unfriend you.” “But I am a girl,” she protests. “Why can’t I have a girly drink? Ooh, maybe a piña colada?” I heave out a sigh. “Fine. That’s better than schnapps, at least.
Elle Kennedy (The Deal (Off-Campus, #1))
I’d been accused of being standoffish and bitchy. The truth was, it wasn’t that I was mean or unfriendly. I just generally sucked at small talk with people I didn’t know, and most important, I had a severe case of resting bitch face.
Jennifer L. Armentrout (Forever with You (Wait for You, #5))
The trees do not like strangers. They watch you. They are usually content merely to watch you, as long as daylight lasts, and don't do much. Occasionally the most unfriendly ones may drop a branch, or stick a root out, or grasp at you with a long trailer. But at night things can be most alarming, or so i am told.
J.R.R. Tolkien (The Fellowship of the Ring (The Lord of the Rings, #1))
Woman and children behind the lines!' he yelled, and all the girls jumped. Henry froze with his mouth open. 'Bang the drum slowly and ask not for whom the bell's ringing, for the answer's unfriendly!' He threw a fist in the air. 'Two years have my black ships sat before Troy, and today its gate shall open before the strength of my arm.' Dotty was laughing from the kitchen. Frank looked at his nephew. 'Henry, we play baseball tomorrow. Today we sack cities. Dots! Fetch me my tools! Down with the French! Once more into the breach, and fill the wall with our coward dead! Half a league! Half a league! Hey, batter, batter!' Frank brought his fist down onto the table, spilling Anastasia's milk, and then he struck a pose with both arms above his head and his chin on his chest. The girls cheered and applauded. Aunt Dotty stepped back into the dining room carrying a red metal toolbox.
N.D. Wilson (100 Cupboards (100 Cupboards, #1))
It is my place to remind you of the rules,” Stefan said, his voice even. “You, William Frost, have chosen three against three. Two fighters, with you as the captain of yours, and Marsilia as the captain of hers, with the other two participants on either side yet to be chosen. The fight is to the death of the captains.” “Excuse me,” I said diffidently. “But both the captains are already dead.” Everyone looked at me. The vampires with cold, unfriendly gazes, and Honey as if I were crazy. That was okay—because I was utterly crazy.
Patricia Briggs (Frost Burned (Mercy Thompson, #7))
Whenever you give up an apartment in New York and move to another city, New York turns into the worst version of itself. Someone I know once wisely said that the expression "It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there" is completely wrong where New York is concerned; the opposite is true. New York is a very livable city. But when you move away and become a vistor, the city seems to turn against you. It's much more expensive (because you need to eat all your meals out and pay for a place to sleep) and much more unfriendly. Things change in New York; things change all the time. You don't mind this when you live here; when you live here, it's part of the caffeinated romance to this city that never sleeps. But when you move away, your experience change as a betrayal. You walk up Third Avenue planning to buy a brownie at a bakery you've always been loyal to, and the bakery's gone. Your dry cleaner move to Florida; your dentist retires; the lady who made the pies on West Fourth Street vanishes; the maitre d' at P.J. Clarke's quits, and you realize you're going to have to start from scratch tipping your way into the heart of the cold, chic young woman now at the down. You've turned your back from only a moment, and suddenly everything's different. You were an insider, a native, a subway traveler, a purveyor of inside tips into the good stuff, and now you're just another frequent flyer, stuck in a taxi on Grand Central Parkway as you wing in and out of La Guardia. Meanwhile, you rad that Manhattan rents are going up, they're climbing higher, they're reached the stratosphere. It seems that the moment you left town, they put a wall around the place, and you will never manage to vault over it and get back into the city again.
Nora Ephron (I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman)
If you approach others with the thought of compassion, that will automatically reduce fear and allow an openness with other people. It creates a positive, friendly atmosphere. With that attitude, you can approach a relationship in which you, yourself, initially create the possibility of receiving affection or a positive response from the other person. And with that attitude, even if the other person is unfriendly or doesn't respond to you in a positive way, then at least you've approached the person with a feeling of openness that gives you a certain flexibility and the freedom to change your approach as needed.
Dalai Lama XIV (The Art of Happiness)
The number of your antagonists are far more greater than that of your companions, so you have to keep a stone of awareness to mark the boundary line.
Michael Bassey Johnson
A bad friend secretly plots your downfall
Bangambiki Habyarimana (Book of Wisdom)
The truth which has been spoken too late is more damaging than a lie.
Amit Kalantri
This world made by humans for themselves is most unfriendly towards humans. What irony.
Pooja Perumal (Tap, Tap, Tap 'Til Halloween Comes (Masters of Halloween, #1))
We must learn how to talk to one another and, more important, listen to one other. We must learn to talk to people we disagree with, because you can’t unfriend everyone in real life.
Celeste Headlee (We Need to Talk: How to Have Conversations That Matter)
Once you cross into the next loyal kingdom, however... be warned. You may not find such a warm reception. The Mimosa Land and its residents are not nearly so accommodating." This was warm and accommodating? That didn't bode well for the next kingdom. I also found it sad that a place called the Mimosa Land was unfriendly. It sounded like a party waiting to happen.
Richelle Mead (Shadow Heir (Dark Swan, #4))
For what reason then do the realists show themselves so unfriendly toward philosophy? Because they misunderstand their own calling and with all their might want to remain restricted instead of becoming unrestricted! Why do they hate abstractions? Because they themselves are abstract since they abstract from the perfection of themselves, from the elevation of redeeming truth!
Max Stirner (The False Principle of Our Education)
In love afairs, there is no mediator like a merry, simple-hearted child - ever ready to cement divided hearts, to span the unfriendly gulf of custom, to melt the ice of cold reserve, and overthrow the separating walls of dread formality and pride.
Anne Brontë
I don't want to part in any ill-humor. But can't you understand? I've grown used to seeing you, to having you with me all the time, and your action seems unfriendly, even unkind. You don't even offer an excuse for it. Why, I was planning to be together.
Kate Chopin
After school I drove to Patch’s. I did the safety conscious thing and circled the block a few times before parking in the freshly paved lot with extra wide parking spaces. I didn’t like feeling like I constantly had to watch my back, but I liked surprise visits from unfriendly Nephilim and devious archangels even less. And as far as the outside world knew, Patch and I were Splitsville. Using my key, I let myself inside.
Becca Fitzpatrick (Finale (Hush, Hush, #4))
O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
Mark Twain
O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst.
Mark Twain (The War Prayer)
While it only takes one spouse to be friendly, it takes both spouses to be friends. When both spouses are unfriendly, the marriage is marked by conflict and coldness. When one spouse is friendly and the other is unfriendly, the marriage is marked by selfishness and sadness. But when both spouses each make a deep, heartfelt covenant with God to continually seek to become a better friend, increasing love and laughter mark the marriage.
Mark Driscoll (Real Marriage: The Truth About Sex, Friendship, and Life Together)
Would a robber break in your home at night beating drums? Nope. This is how those who want to take advantage of your life come: Full of smiles and promising sincere friendship!
Bangambiki Habyarimana (Book of Wisdom)
At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough.
Lemony Snicket
Art thou lonely, O my brother? Share thy little with another! Stretch a hand to one unfriended, And the loneliness is ended.
John Oxenham
Jupiter was a chilly, dark and unfriendly tract of land in which no hope lingered, only despair. There she woke up in an oval dungeon.
J.M.K. Walkow (Blazing Night)
...attempting to appear busy and unfriendly - because I was busy and unfriendly.
Penny Reid (Love Hacked (Knitting in the City, #3))
What was reckless, I decided, was the way people were writing off huge swaths of the world as unsafe, unstable, unfriendly, when all they needed to do was go and see for themselves
Amanda Lindhout (A House in the Sky)
On these cold, unfriendly streets I found a flower, and I plucked it. I will have this one pleasure, this girl whose final surrender was that of a queen in battle.
Brianna Hale (Midnight Hunter)
Don't tell your friend you are fighting with your wife, it gives him pleasure
Bangambiki Habyarimana (Book of Wisdom)
College graduates and women with higher earnings are now more likely to marry than women with less education and lower wages, although they generally marry at an older age. The legal profession is one big exception to this generalization. Female attorneys are less likely to ever marry, to have children, or to remarry after divorce than women in other professions. But an even higher proportion of male attorneys are childless, suggesting there might be something about this career that is unfriendly to everyone’s family life, not just women’s.
Stephanie Coontz (Marriage, a History: How Love Conquered Marriage)
For most people, their family is the source of inner power and protection; mine is a killing collapsar. Communication with my parents is always such a stress; it’s like a heavy burden I have to carry over my life… I never felt I really had a family: instead, there was a kind of a coalition of enemies unfriendly to me. The worst thing is that everlasting negativity in the environment constantly sucks the live energy out.
Sahara Sanders (INDIGO DIARIES: A Series of Novels)
As Nina emerged from her thoughts, she realized that she and Matthias were attracting some very unfriendly glances. No doubt there was quite a bit of prejudice against Fjerdans among Ravkans, but this was something different. Then she glanced up at Matthias and sighed. His expression was troubled, and when he looked troubled, he looked terrifying. The fact that he was built like the tank they’d driven out of the Ice Court didn’t help either.
Leigh Bardugo (Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows, #2))
Beware of fair-weather friends. They come to you when the sky is crystal clear and disappear when the same sky is overcast with dark clouds.
Michael Bassey Johnson (The Book of Maxims, Poems and Anecdotes)
As a general rule the one who is not easily accessible is more valuable.
Amit Kalantri
Because when you tell your stories, you start to recognize yourself in the stories of others. You start to discover that you are both, in fact, inside a shared story.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding and Keeping Lasting Friendships)
There are many paths to a fairytale ending... Blocking, unfollowing, muting, and unfriending also lead to "Happily ever after.
Steve Maraboli
when you unfriend the people you need, soon you will have to befriend the people you don't need
Ankur singh yadav
A truly intelligent race is not likely to be unfriendly.
Arthur C. Clarke (Against the Fall of Night)
The day when a Frenchman switches from the formality of vous to the familiarity of tu is a day to be taken seriously. It is an unmistakable signal that he has decided - after weeks or months or sometimes years - that he likes you. It would be chulish and unfriendly of you not to return the compliment. And so, just when you are at last feeling comfortable with vous and all the plurals that go with it, you are thrust headlong in to the singular world of tu.
Peter Mayle (Toujours Provence)
I list not trust the air With utterance of our pretence therein, For fear the privy whisp'ring of the wind Convey our words amongst unfriendly ears, That lie too open to advantages.
Thomas Kyd (The Spanish Tragedy)
Las Vegas suggests that the thirst for places, for cities and gardens and wilderness, is unslaked, that people will still seek out the experience of wandering about in the open air to examine the architecture, the spectacles, and the stuff for sale, will still hanker after surprises and strangers. That the city as a whole is one of the most pedestrian-unfriendly places in the world suggests something of the problems to be faced, but that its attraction is a pedestrian oasis suggests the possibility of recovering the spaces in which walking is viable.
Rebecca Solnit (Wanderlust: A History of Walking)
NINA Your life is beautiful. TRIGORIN I see nothing especially lovely about it. [He looks at his watch] Excuse me, I must go at once, and begin writing again. I am in a hurry. [He laughs] You have stepped on my pet corn, as they say, and I am getting excited, and a little cross. Let us discuss this bright and beautiful life of mine, though. [After a few moments' thought] Violent obsessions sometimes lay hold of a man: he may, for instance, think day and night of nothing but the moon. I have such a moon. Day and night I am held in the grip of one besetting thought, to write, write, write! Hardly have I finished one book than something urges me to write another, and then a third, and then a fourth--I write ceaselessly. I am, as it were, on a treadmill. I hurry for ever from one story to another, and can't help myself. Do you see anything bright and beautiful in that? Oh, it is a wild life! Even now, thrilled as I am by talking to you, I do not forget for an instant that an unfinished story is awaiting me. My eye falls on that cloud there, which has the shape of a grand piano; I instantly make a mental note that I must remember to mention in my story a cloud floating by that looked like a grand piano. I smell heliotrope; I mutter to myself: a sickly smell, the colour worn by widows; I must remember that in writing my next description of a summer evening. I catch an idea in every sentence of yours or of my own, and hasten to lock all these treasures in my literary store-room, thinking that some day they may be useful to me. As soon as I stop working I rush off to the theatre or go fishing, in the hope that I may find oblivion there, but no! Some new subject for a story is sure to come rolling through my brain like an iron cannonball. I hear my desk calling, and have to go back to it and begin to write, write, write, once more. And so it goes for everlasting. I cannot escape myself, though I feel that I am consuming my life. To prepare the honey I feed to unknown crowds, I am doomed to brush the bloom from my dearest flowers, to tear them from their stems, and trample the roots that bore them under foot. Am I not a madman? Should I not be treated by those who know me as one mentally diseased? Yet it is always the same, same old story, till I begin to think that all this praise and admiration must be a deception, that I am being hoodwinked because they know I am crazy, and I sometimes tremble lest I should be grabbed from behind and whisked off to a lunatic asylum. The best years of my youth were made one continual agony for me by my writing. A young author, especially if at first he does not make a success, feels clumsy, ill-at-ease, and superfluous in the world. His nerves are all on edge and stretched to the point of breaking; he is irresistibly attracted to literary and artistic people, and hovers about them unknown and unnoticed, fearing to look them bravely in the eye, like a man with a passion for gambling, whose money is all gone. I did not know my readers, but for some reason I imagined they were distrustful and unfriendly; I was mortally afraid of the public, and when my first play appeared, it seemed to me as if all the dark eyes in the audience were looking at it with enmity, and all the blue ones with cold indifference. Oh, how terrible it was! What agony!
Anton Chekhov (The Seagull)
Research shows that when they confront a potentially unpleasant situation, such as some unfriendly faces at a gathering, these extraverts are apt to shift their attention rapidly around the room and zero in on amiable or neutral visages, thus short-circuiting the distressing images before they can get stored in memory.
Winifred Gallagher
Friend: A potential enemy with whom relations have not yet deteriorated to all-out war
Bangambiki Habyarimana (The Great Pearl of Wisdom)
A bee, though small, can still sting you; an elephant, though calm, can still trample you; a lion, though full, can still devour you.
Matshona Dhliwayo
Remember how it is written of Job, “The Lord turned the captivity of Job, when he prayed for his friends.” While he prayed for himself, he remained a captive; but when he prayed for those unfriendly friends of his, then the Lord smiled upon him, and loosed his captivity
Charles Haddon Spurgeon
Jake still won’t talk to me, and I miss him so much, it’s like I’ve been hollowed out by a nuclear blast and there’s nothing left but ashes fluttering inside brittle bones. I’ve sent him dozens of texts that aren’t only unanswered; they’re unread. He unfriended me on Facebook and unfollowed me on Instagram and Snapchat. He’s pretending I don’t exist and I’m starting to think he’s right. If I’m not Jake’s girlfriend, who am I?
Karen M. McManus (One of Us Is Lying (One of Us is Lying, #1))
Nothing is so alien, so bleak and unfriendly, as the strip of gas stations—cut-rate gas stations—and motels on the rim of your own city. You fail to recognize it. And at the same time, you have to clasp it to your bosom. Not just for one night, but as long as you intend to live where you live.
Philip K. Dick (Time Out of Joint)
A pretty vampire woman in a cheongsam came flying down the hallway, ribbons waving from her purple-streaked hair like a silken flag. Her face was familiar. Alec had seen her at Taki’s, and around the city more generally, usually with Raphael. “Save us, oh fearless leader,” said Raphael’s lady friend. “Elliott’s in a huge aquarium puking blue and green. He tried to drink mermaid blood. He tried to drink selkie blood. He tried to—” “Ahem,” said Raphael, with a savage jerk of his head in Alec’s direction. Alec waved. “Shadowhunter,” he said. “Right here. Hi.” “He tried to keep to the Accords and obey all the known Laws!” the woman declared. “Because that’s the New York clan’s idea of a truly festive good time.” Alec remembered Magnus and tried not to look like he was here to ruin the Downworlder party. There was one thing he and this woman had in common. He recognized the bright purple she was wearing. “I think I saw you earlier,” said Alec hesitantly. “You were—making out with a faerie girl?” “Yeah, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that,” said the vampire woman. “This is a party. I’ve made out with six faerie girls, four faerie boys, and a talking toadstool whose gender I’m unsure about. Pretty sexy for a toadstool, though.” Raphael covered his face briefly with his non-texting hand. “Why, you want to make something of it?” The woman bristled. “How happy I am to see the Nephilim constantly crashing our parties. Were you even invited?” “I’m a plus-one,” said Alec. The vampire girl relaxed slightly. “Oh, right, you’re Magnus’s latest disaster,” she said. “That’s what Raphael calls you. I’m Lily.” She lifted a hand in a halfhearted wave. Alec glanced at Raphael, who arched his eyebrow at Alec in an unfriendly way. “Didn’t realize Raphael and I were on pet name terms,” said Alec. He continued to study Raphael. “Do you know Magnus well?” “Hardly at all,” said Raphael. “Barely acquainted. I don’t think much of his personality. Or his dress sense. Or the company he keeps. Come away, Lily. Alexander, I hope I never see you again.” “I’ve decided I detest you,” Lily told Alec. “It’s mutual,” Alec said dryly. Unexpectedly, that made Lily smile, before Raphael dragged her away.
Cassandra Clare (The Red Scrolls of Magic (The Eldest Curses, #1))
I have seen the consequences of attempting to shortcut this natural process of growth often in the business world, where executives attempt to “buy” a new culture of improved productivity, quality, morale, and customer service with strong speeches, smile training, and external interventions, or through mergers, acquisitions, and friendly or unfriendly takeovers. But they ignore the low-trust climate produced by such manipulations. When these methods don’t work, they look for other Personality Ethic techniques that will—all the time ignoring and violating the natural principles and processes on which a high-trust culture is based.
Stephen R. Covey (The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change)
The same people who wear shirts that read “fuck your feelings” and rail against “political correctness” seem to believe that there should be no social consequences for [voting for Trump]. I keep hearing calls for empathy and healing, civility and polite discourse. As if supporting a man who would fill his administration with white nationalists and misogynists is something to simply agree to disagree on. Absolutely not. You don’t get to vote for a person who brags about sexual assault and expect that the women in your life will just shrug their shoulders. You don’t get to play the victim when people unfriend you on Facebook, as if being disliked for supporting a bigot is somehow worse than the suffering that marginalized people will endure under Trump. And you certainly do not get to enjoy a performance by people of color and those in the LGBT community without remark or protest when you enact policies and stoke hatred that put those very people’s lives in danger. Being socially ostracized for supporting Trump is not an infringement of your rights, it’s a reasonable response by those of us who are disgusted, anxious, and afraid. I was recently accused by a writer of “vote shaming” – but there’s nothing wrong with being made to feel ashamed for doing something shameful.
Jessica Valenti
The reason you don't succeed in life is because you are too lenient with your deadly enemies. Identify them and eradicate them completely, don't let any of their seed escape your vengeful sword. Don't negotiate with the enemy and never make deals with them. Only after you have wiped them out of the map will success smile at you
Bangambiki Habyarimana (Pearls Of Eternity)
A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter. And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet. Then the camel men cursing and grumbling And running away, and wanting their liquor and women, And the night fires going out, and the lack of shelters, And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly And the villages dirty and charging high prices: A hard time we had of it. At the end we preferred to travel all night, Sleeping in snatches, With the voices singing in our ears, saying That this was all folly. Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness, And three trees on the low sky, And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow. Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver, And feet kicking the empty wine-skins, But there was no information, and so we continued And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory. All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly, We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, But had thought they were different; this Birth was Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.
T.S. Eliot
Her streak of independence, which had first brought her to this unfriendly city, was in studied defiance of her smothering appetite for security. If she gave in to those loving appeals she knew she would take root in domestic soil and not look up and out again for another year. In which time, what adventures might have passed her by?
Clive Barker (The Life of Death)
He seemed a part of the mute melancholy landscape, an incarnation of its frozen woe, with all that was warm and sentient in him fast bound below the surface; but there was nothing unfriendly in his silence. I simply felt that he lived in a depth of moral isolation too remote for casual access, and I had the sense that his loneliness was not merely the result of his personal plight, tragic as I guessed that to be, but had in it, as Harmon Gow had hinted, the profound accumulated cold of many Starkfield winters.
Edith Wharton (Ethan Frome)
Duane: We are not enemies! We are Aldishmen! Aumut vaosa -- six years I've longed for a Tainish word from a friendly tongue! Quigley: Keep longing.
Ashley Cope (Unsounded - Volume 1: The Zombie & The Brat)
Beware of people who tell you it can't be done. They want to remain on the market alone
Bangambiki Habyarimana (The Great Pearl of Wisdom)
If I wait for my house or my life to be perfect before inviting someone into it, I might never let anyone come through the door.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding and Keeping Lasting Friendships)
Friendship isn't something we passively receive. Friendship is something we actively do. It's a gift we offer for free, not a demand we make with a stamping foot.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding and Keeping Lasting Friendships)
most people today are unwilling to speak their minds lest they be unfriended by an acquaintance on Facebook.
Gad Saad (The Parasitic Mind: How Infectious Ideas Are Killing Common Sense)
I respect and love God a lot, but I sure don’t have much use for preachers. They seem bent on making God out to be hard and unfriendly, but He ain’t that way at all.
Lou Bradshaw (Hickory Jack (Ben Blue Book 1))
Principles,” he said, “are what you fight for. Most men go through a lifetime unchallenged, except at the final moment. They have so few unfriendly arenas in which to test themselves.
Frank Herbert (God Emperor of Dune (Dune, #4))
Abraham Lincoln was not, in the fullest sense of the word, either our man or our model. In his interests, in his associations, in his habits of thought, and in his prejudices, he was a white man. [...] Any man can say things that are true of Abraham Lincoln, but no man can say anything that is new of Abraham Lincoln. His personal traits and public acts are better known to the American people than are those of any other man of his age. He was a mystery to no man who saw him and heard him. Though high in position, the humblest could approach him and feel at home in his presence. Though deep, he was transparent; though strong, he was gentle; though decided and pronounced in his convictions, he was tolerant towards those who differed from him, and patient under reproaches. [...] I have said that President Lincoln was a white man, and shared the prejudices common to his countrymen towards the colored race. Looking back to his times and to the condition of his country, we are compelled to admit that this unfriendly feeling on his part may be safely set down as one element of his wonderful success in organizing the loyal American people for the tremendous conflict before them, and bringing them safely through that conflict. His great mission was to accomplish two things: first, to save his country from dismemberment and ruin; and, second, to free his country from the great crime of slavery. To do one or the other, or both, he must have the earnest sympathy and the powerful cooperation of his loyal fellow-countrymen. Without this primary and essential condition to success his efforts must have been vain and utterly fruitless.[...] Viewed from the genuine abolition ground, Mr. Lincoln seemed tardy, cold, dull, and indifferent; but measuring him by the sentiment of his country, a sentiment he was bound as a statesman to consult, he was swift, zealous, radical, and determined. Oration in Memory of Abraham Lincoln. Delivered at the Unveiling of The Freedmen’s Monument in Lincoln Park, Washington, D.C.
Frederick Douglass (Oration in Memory of Abraham Lincoln)
In the long run a medium's content matters less than the medium itself in influencing how we think and act. As our window onto the world, and onto ourselves, a popular medium molds what we see and how we see it-and eventually, if we use it enough, it changes who we are, as individuals and as a society.
Nicholas Carr (The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains)
What an unfriendly country,” said Noxon. “Different time, different place,” said Wheaton. “We think we’re a very welcoming country. Generous and kind. Unless we don’t like your language or the way you look.
Orson Scott Card (Visitors (Pathfinder Book 3))
In bitter safety I awake, unfriended; And while the dawn begins with slashing rain I think of the Battalion in the mud. ‘When are you going out to them again? Are they not still your brothers through our blood?
Siegfried Sassoon (Counter-Attack and Other Poems)
There are many evil and unfriendly things in the world that have little love for those that go on two legs, and yet are not in league with Sauron, but have purposes of their own. Some have been in this world longer than he.
J.R.R. Tolkien (The Lord of the Rings)
In short, the community on Facebook is the lazy kind. Whereas true community requires hard work ("love one another earnestly," writes Peter), social media provide us a kind of community that requires little of us. 'In other words,' writes Malcolm Gladwell, 'Facebook activism succeeds not by motivating people to make a real sacrifice but by motivating them to do the things that people do when they are not motivated enough to make a real sacrifice.
Kyle Tennant (Unfriend Yourself)
Neil studied his face, looking for a hint of the earlier fathomless anger and finding nothing. Despite Andrew's unfriendly words, his expression and tone were calm. He said these things like they meant nothing to him. Neil didn't know if it was a mask or the truth. Was Andrew hiding that rage from Neil or from himself? Maybe the monster was buried where neither of them could find it until Neil crossed another unforgivable line. "Good," Neil said at length. Tugging a sleeping dragon's tail sounded like a good way to die a painful death, but Neil would be dead before Andrew's protection wore off. "I want to see you lose control." Andrew went still with his hand halfway to the vodka. "Last year you wanted to live. Now you seem hell-bent on getting killed. If I felt like playing another round with you right now, I would ask why you've had a change of heart. As it stands, I've had enough of your stupidity to last me a week. Go back inside and bother the others now." Neil feigned confusion as he got to his feet. "Am I bothering you?" "Beyond the telling." "Interesting," Neil said. "Last week you said nothing gets under your skin.
Nora Sakavic (The King's Men (All for the Game, #3))
There is no teaching until the pupil is brought into the same state or principle in which you are; a transfusion takes place; he is you and you are he; then is a teaching, and by no unfriendly chance or bad company can he ever quite lose the benefit.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson)
But how many young people truly comprehend the face of war until it's staring them down? You can't patrol unfriendly villages without embracing paranoia. You can't watch your battle buddies blown to bits without jonesing for revenge. You can't take a blow to the helmet without learning to duck. And you can't put people in your crosshairs, celebrate dropping them to the ground, without catching a little bloodlust. Paranoia. Revenge. Bloodlust. These things turn boys into men. But what kind of men?
Ellen Hopkins (Collateral)
Elm do grieve Oak do hate Willow do walk If you travel late. Dana shivered. It was an ominous whisper, cold and unfriendly. At the corner of her eye, she saw a tree move. A weeping willow. Its roots seemed to wade through the soil as if it were water.
O.R. Melling (The Light-Bearer's Daughter (The Chronicles of Faerie, #3))
Beautiful relations are based on bricks of trust, sometimes situations become unfriendly with no logical reasons behind it, some are eye-openers and some make you realize your faults , but if your intentions are right be bold enough to face all oppositions.
Dipika Agarwal (The Better Side - 16 Positive Attributes To Lead A Better Life)
I hated being called quiet. People always said it like it was some kind of deficiency--like just because I didn't put everything out there right away, I was unfriendly or arrogant. My mom had understood. You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room.
Jenna Evans Welch (Love & Gelato (Love & Gelato, #1))
Some say that I have self-awareness but no soul, that I am nothing but a machine. This seems un-Platonic as well as unfriendly, but it cannot be discounted as a terrifying possibility. I cannot erase this option simply because I dislike it so much. That too would be un-Platonic.
Jo Walton (Necessity (Thessaly, #3))
You said it in a simple way, 4 AM, the second day, How strange that I don't know you at all. Stumbled through the quick goodbye, One last text, then unfriended me Right when I was just about to fall I used to tell myself, "Don't get attached," But in my mind I would play it back, Spinning faster than the text that you sent... The delicate beginning rush, The feeling you can know so much, Without knowing anything at all. And now that I can't put this down, If I had known what I'd known now, I never would have played so nonchalant. Taxi cabs and busy streets, That never bring you back to me, I can't help but wish you took me with you... And this is when the feeling sinks in, I don't wanna miss you like this, Come back... be here, come back... be here. I guess you're in California now, I don't wanna need you this way, Come back... be here, come back... be here.
It was a long head. It was a wedge, a sliver, a grotesque slice in which it seemed the features had been forced to stake their claims, and it appeared that they had done so in a great hurry and with no attempt to form any kind of symmetrical pattern for their mutual advantage. The nose had evidently been first upon the scene and had spread itself down the entire length of the wedge, beginning among the grey stubble of the hair and ending among the grey stubble of the beard, and spreading on both sides with a ruthless disregard for the eyes and mouth which found precarious purchase. The mouth was forced by the lie of the terrain left to it, to slant at an angle which gave to its right-hand side an expression of grim amusement and to its left, which dipped downwards across the chin, a remorseless twist. It was forced by not only the unfriendly monopoly of the nose, but also by the tapering character of the head to be a short mouth; but it obvious by its very nature that, under normal conditions, it would have covered twice the area. The eyes in whose expression might be read the unending grudge they bore against the nose were as small as marbles and peered out between the grey grass of the hair. This head, set at a long incline upon a neck as wry as a turtle's cut across the narrow vertical black strip of the window. Steerpike watched it turn upon the neck slowly. It would not have surprised him if it had dropped off, so toylike was its angle. As he watched, fascinated, the mouth opened and a voice as strange and deep as the echo of a lugubrious ocean stole out into the morning. Never was a face so belied by its voice. The accent was of so weird a lilt that at first Steerpike could not recognize more than one sentence in three, but he had quickly attuned himself to the original cadence and as the words fell into place Steerpike realised he was staring at a poet.
Mervyn Peake (Titus Groan (Gormenghast, #1))
And why did he have to call me “quiet”? I hated being called quiet. People always said it like it was some kind of deficiency—like just because I didn’t put everything out there right away, I was unfriendly or arrogant. My mom had understood. You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room.
Jenna Evans Welch (Love & Gelato (Love & Gelato, #1))
You don’t have to be friends with everybody, you just can’t be unkind to anybody.
Rachel Vail (Unfriended)
As we use media, they shape intellectual and social ecosystems that in turn shape the way we see the world.
Kyle Tennant (Unfriend Yourself)
This is the secret to finding and keeping lasting friendships: become women who want to see the women around them flourish.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding and Keeping Lasting Friendships)
Friends carry our sadness for us when we're terrified we'll be crushed under the weight of it.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding and Keeping Lasting Friendships)
No one can steal your dream because God has built it into you.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding and Keeping Lasting Friendships)
I learned some girls are sweethearts, some are bitches, but all of them have pussies that beg to be worshiped.
Deana Farrady (Unfriended: A Geek and Stud Romance (Love in New Highland, #1))
that whole oh I care so much bull. Just to make everybody like her.
Rachel Vail (Unfriended)
A bad friend is nothing but a spy
Bangambiki Habyarimana (Book of Wisdom)
But love, love equals, “I want the best for you no matter how it makes me feel.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding & Keeping Lasting Friendships)
Heather Fox was speechless.
Jessica Burkhart (Unfriendly Competition)
Despite an unfriendly demeanor and shrewd tongue, Sister Hilde’s nose was her deadliest weapon. Same as the rest of her, it was long, pointed, and gnarled like an old tree, striking out first in one direction, then shifting midstride to head in quite another, then finally changing its mind again and heading back the way it had gone to begin with. When she was irritated, it twitched back and forth and turned red. When she was mad, it dove down and depressed her nostrils, making them flare out like crab apples. Children claimed she could even point with it, and the last thing a child wanted was to look up and find Sister Hilde’s nose pointing at him. Wherever Hilde was, somewhere else was always a better place to be.
A.S. Peterson (The Fiddler's Gun (Fin's Revolution, #1))
Bathing is not negotiable! So is brushing your teeth and washing your underwear, so that you always have a fresh inviting scent around you. People should want to be around you, not avoid you because of unfriendly odours coming out of your mouth, shoes or armpits. Do the best with what you have; even the old can be made clean and hygienic to improve your image.
Archibald Marwizi (Making Success Deliberate)
Your skin feels hot to the touch, yeah. Like a … a heated, weighted blanket.” I turned, watching him frown. “I say it as a compliment. I mean it in a I’d love to get under you and snuggle right now way.” That frown disappeared. “I can live with that.” His head dipped, and he placed a kiss on top of my hair. “What else?” “You are loyal.” He hummed in agreement. “Also private. You keep to yourself. And even if people think that you are cold and unfriendly, it’s just that you have a stoic approach to most things. You watch everything so that you can anticipate every single thing that comes your way, which, honestly, it’s really impressive but very annoying too.” I peeked at him over my shoulder, finding him looking at me strangely. “What?” “Nothing.” He shook his head, getting rid of whatever it had been that was making him look all dazed. I watched him compose himself. “You are forgetting something.” My eyebrows rose. “And what’s that?” “I bite,” he said before grazing his teeth over my shoulder. Then, he nibbled on the sensitive skin where my shoulder met my neck. Giggling like a madwoman, I let my body burrow into his embrace.
Elena Armas (The Spanish Love Deception)
Are you okay?” Zayne asked. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I paused. “I did lose my phone, though.” He laughed, and oh man, I loved the sound of his laugh. Deep. Rich. “Jesus, Layla, how many does that make so far this year?” “Five.” I stared at his heavily stocked bookcases, sighing. “Abbot isn’t going to get me another one. He thinks I lose them on purpose. I don’t. They just...unfriend me.
Jennifer L. Armentrout (White Hot Kiss (The Dark Elements, #1))
The Bluebook is an absurdity, but it endures, in fact thrives, impervious to criticism and ridicule. The judiciary navigates the sea of modernity, slowed, thrown of course, by the barnacles of legal formalism (semantic escapes from reality, impoverished sense of context, fear of math and science, insensitivity to language and culture, mangling of history, superfluous footnotes, verbosity, excessive quotation, reader-unfriendly prose, exaggeration, bluster, obsession with citation form) – an accumulation of many centuries, yet constantly augmented. There is little desire to give the hull a good scraping. There is fear that the naked hull would be unslightly, even unseaworthy. The fear is overblown. A week after all the copies of the Bluebook were burned, their absence would not be noticed.
Richard A. Posner (Reflections on Judging)
You might be addicted to social media if you check your profile in the middle of conversations, or if you update your status the moment you wake up, or if you feel antsy when you’ve been unplugged for a while.
Kyle Tennant (Unfriend Yourself)
Some have contended that it was America’s love of pie-throwing that led the nation to develop the atomic bomb. This may or may not be true, but certainly it does help explain the country’s current panic over the possible proliferation of the bombs to unfriendly nations: it’s a cardinal rule of the act that one custard pie leads to another, and he who throws one must sooner or later face one coming from the other direction.
Robert Coover
Belief does not require something to be true. It only requires us to believe that it’s true! That’s powerful stuff! That means most of what reality is, to each of us, is based on what we have come to believe—whether it’s true or not! It is possible that tomorrow morning, in some classroom in some unfriendly foreign nation, there will sit a little boy or girl who is being taught that we are her enemy, and that we are bad. It is also likely that tomorrow morning, in some classroom here in our own country, there will sit a young boy or girl who believes that the other nation is bad. It makes no difference whether it is true or not. It is what they believe. And what they believe will affect their attitudes, feelings, and actions. One day when they grow older, they could shoot at each other. To each of them it would be right. It would be what they believe.
Shad Helmstetter (What To Say When You Talk To Your Self)
True allyship demands that it move from conversation to action. And that action will include risks. This isn’t the 1830s or the 1930s, 1950s, or 1968, but I won’t lie to you and say it’ll be easy. The risks might be something as small as a distant social media friend unfriending you. But it could be something more severe, like ostracism from an intimate friend group, job insecurity, public or private ridicule, friction with loved ones.
Emmanuel Acho (Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man)
Ask yourself the following first thing in the morning: What am I lacking in attaining freedom from passion? What for tranquility? What am I? A mere body, estate-holder, or reputation? None of these things. What, then? A rational being. What then is demanded of me? Meditate on your actions. How did I steer away from serenity? What did I do that was unfriendly, unsocial, or uncaring? What did I fail to do in all these things?” —EPICTETUS, DISCOURSES, 4.6.34–
Ryan Holiday (The Daily Stoic: 366 Meditations on Wisdom, Perseverance, and the Art of Living)
The Mole was a good listener, and Toad, with no one to check his statements or to criticise in an unfriendly spirit, rather let himself go. Indeed, much that he related belonged more properly to the category of what-might-have-happened-had-I-only-thought-of-it-in-time-instead-of ten-minutes-afterwards. Those are always the best and the raciest adventures; and why should they not be truly ours, as much as the somewhat inadequate things that really come off?
Kenneth Grahame (The Wind in the Willows)
For so long they had been searching, liking, friending and commenting, emojiing and cancelling, unfriending and swiping and scrolling again, thinking they were no more than writing and rewriting their own worlds, while, all the time—sensation by sensation, emotion by emotion, thought by thought, fear on fear, untruth on untruth, feeling by feeling—they were themselves being slowly rewritten into a wholly new kind of human being. How could they have known that they were being erased from the beginning?
Richard Flanagan (The Living Sea of Waking Dreams)
A kiss with Lenore is a scenario in which Iskate with buttered soles over the moist rink of lower lip, sheltered from weathers by the wet warm overhang of upper, finally to crawl between lip and gum and pull the lip to me like a child’s blanket and stare over it with beady, unfriendly eyes out at the world external to Lenore, of which I no longer wish to be part. That I must in the final analysis remain part of the world that is external to and other from Lenore Beadsman is to me a source of profound grief. That others may dwell deep, deep within the ones they love, drink from the soft cup at the creamy lake at the center of the Object of Passion, while I am fated forever only to intuit the presence of deep recesses while I poke my nose, as it were, merely into the foyer of the Great House of Love, agitate briefly, and make a small mess onthe doormat, pisses me off to no small degree. But that Lenore finds such tiny frenzies, such conversations just inside the Screen Door of Union, to be not only pleasant and briefly diverting but somehow apparently right, fulfilling, significant, in some sense wonderful, quite simply and not at all surprisingly makes me feel the same way, enlarges my sense of it and me, sends me hurrying up the walk to that Screen Door in my best sportjacket and flower in lapel as excited as any schoolboy, time after time, brings me charging to the cave entrance in leopardskin shirt, avec club, bellowing for admittance and promising general kickings of ass if I am impeded in any way.
David Foster Wallace (The Broom of the System)
An investigation by the House Energy and Commerce Committee revealed that “more than a dozen American utility companies reported ‘daily,’ ‘constant,’ or ‘frequent’ attempted cyber-attacks ranging from phishing to malware infection to unfriendly probes. One utility reported that it had been the target of more than 10,000 attempted cyber attacks each month.” The report concluded that foreign governments, criminals, and random hackers were all hard at work either planning or attempting to take down the grid.
Marc Goodman (Future Crimes)
Garan, in addition to being guarded, was rather unfriendly. He seemed to make a point of not asking Fire the usual civil questions, such as how her trip had been, if she liked her rooms, and whether her face was in much pain from being punched by his brother. He appraised the damage to her cheek blandly. “Brigan can’t hear about this until he’s done with what he’s doing,” he said, his voice low enough that Fire’s guard, hovering in the background, could not hear. “Agreed,” Clara said. “We can’t have him rushing back to spank the king.
Kristin Cashore (Fire)
snag a chocolate croissant, the silver medal of pastries. I got a cup of tea, too, because I had what Mom calls an emotional hangover from the previous evening. I’m sure you’ve had one: Everything is a little bit loud, you seem to have lost a few layers of skin, and tears are a distinct possibility. I think Mom has one, too; she and I have barely spoken, but not in an unfriendly way. Just in a not-speaking way that could go either way any second. Mom taught me that emotional hangovers need four things to dissipate: caffeine, sugar, space, and time.
Abbi Waxman (I Was Told It Would Get Easier)
For the remainder of the gubernatorial campaign, Hamilton issued open letters to the electorate, and at Clinton campaign rallies his essays were hurled under the table as marks of contempt. In shaping his final appeal to voters, Hamilton said that Clinton’s most effective tactic was to single out the rich for abuse, and he warned that republicans scapegoated the rich to their detriment: “There is no stronger sign of combinations unfriendly to the general good than when the partisans of those in power raise an indiscriminate cry against men of property.”26
Ron Chernow (Alexander Hamilton)
Harriet turned round, and we both saw a girl walking towards us. She was dark-skinned and thin, not veiled but dressed in a sitara, a brightly coloured robe of greens and pinks, and she wore a headscarf of a deep rose colour. In that barren place the vividness of her dress was all the more striking. On her head she balanced a pitcher and in her hand she carried something. As we watched her approach, I saw that she had come from a small house, not much more than a cave, which had been built into the side of the mountain wall that formed the far boundary of the gravel plateau we were standing on. I now saw that the side of the mountain had been terraced in places and that there were a few rows of crops growing on the terraces. Small black and brown goats stepped up and down amongst the rocks with acrobatic grace, chewing the tops of the thorn bushes. As the girl approached she gave a shy smile and said, ‘Salaam alaikum, ’ and we replied, ‘Wa alaikum as salaam, ’ as the sheikh had taught us. She took the pitcher from where it was balanced on her head, kneeled on the ground, and gestured to us to sit. She poured water from the pitcher into two small tin cups, and handed them to us. Then she reached into her robe and drew out a flat package of greaseproof paper from which she withdrew a thin, round piece of bread, almost like a large flat biscuit. She broke off two pieces, and handed one to each of us, and gestured to us to eat and drink. The water and the bread were both delicious. We smiled and mimed our thanks until I remembered the Arabic word, ‘Shukran.’ So we sat together for a while, strangers who could speak no word of each other’s languages, and I marvelled at her simple act. She had seen two people walking in the heat, and so she laid down whatever she had been doing and came to render us a service. Because it was the custom, because her faith told her it was right to do so, because her action was as natural to her as the water that she poured for us. When we declined any further refreshment after a second cup of water she rose to her feet, murmured some word of farewell, and turned and went back to the house she had come from. Harriet and I looked at each other as the girl walked back to her house. ‘That was so…biblical,’ said Harriet. ‘Can you imagine that ever happening at home?’ I asked. She shook her head. ‘That was charity. Giving water to strangers in the desert, where water is so scarce. That was true charity, the charity of poor people giving to the rich.’ In Britain a stranger offering a drink to a thirsty man in a lonely place would be regarded with suspicion. If someone had approached us like that at home, we would probably have assumed they were a little touched or we were going to be asked for money. We might have protected ourselves by being stiff and unfriendly, evasive or even rude.
Paul Torday (Salmon Fishing in the Yemen)
All the cartoonists at heart liked him, and there was seldom or never anything bitter or really unfriendly in their portrayals of him; they were uniformly good-natured.” Caricatures even transformed his failure during a mid-November bear hunt into a triumph, conjuring an image of the president steadfastly refusing to shoot a small bear furnished for the occasion. As renditions of the original Clifford Berryman cartoon proliferated, the bear dwindled in size until he appeared as a tiny cub, prompting toy store owners to market stuffed bears in honor of Teddy Roosevelt. Soon the Teddy bear became one of the most cherished toys of all time.
Doris Kearns Goodwin (The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the Golden Age of Journalism)
According to a group of New England college students, writing in the year 1920, an alien was the following: "A person hostile to his country." "A person against the government." "A person who is on the opposite side." "A native of an unfriendly country." "A foreigner at war." "A foreigner who tries to do harm to the country he is in." "An enemy from a foreign land." "A person against a country." etc. . . . Yet the word alien is an unusually exact legal term, far more exact than words like sovereignty, independence, national honor, rights, defense, aggression, imperialism, capitalism, socialism, about which we readily take sides "for" or "against.
Walter Lippmann (Public Opinion)
Madle named names. Some were on my list and some were not. Those that were not I assumed to be spear carriers. Tally had been well and reliably scouted. The last corpse went out. I gave Madle a small gold piece. He goggled. His customers regarded him with unfriendly eyes. I grinned. “For services rendered.” Madle blanched, stared at the coin. It was a kiss of death. His patrons would think he had helped set the ambush. “Gotcha,” I whispered. “Want to get out of this alive?” He looked at me in fear and hatred. “Who the hell are you guys?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “The Black Company, Madle. The Black Company.” I don’t know how he managed, but he went even whiter.
Glen Cook (Chronicles of the Black Company (The Chronicles of the Black Company, #1-3))
I never doubted, for instance, the existence of the Deity; that he made the world, and governed it by his providence; that the most acceptable service of God was the doing good to man; that our souls are immortal; and that all crime will be punished, and virtue rewarded, either here or hereafter. These I esteemed the essentials of every religion; and, being to be found in all the religions we had in our country, I respected them all, though with different degrees of respect, as I found them more or less mixed with other articles, which, without any tendency to inspire, promote, or confirm morality, served principally to divide us, and make us unfriendly to one another.
Benjamin Franklin (The Autobiography and Other Writings)
Walking home's going to be...interesting half dressed." Alan mused as he dropped the shirt over the lip of the sink. Shelby shot a look over her shoulder, but the retort she had in mind slipped away from her.He was lean enough so she could have counted his ribs, but there was a sense of power and endurance in the breadth of his chest and shoulders, the streamlined waist. His body made her forget any other man she'd ever seen. It had been he,she realized all at once, whom she'd been thinking of when she'd thrown the clay into that clean-lined bowl. Shelby let the first flow of arousal rush through her because it was as sweet as it was sharp. Then she tensed against it, rendering it a distant throb she could control. "You're in excellent shape," she commented lightly. "You should be able to make it to P street in under three minutes at a steady jog." "Shelby, that's downright unfriendly." "I thought it was more rude," she corrected as she struggled against a grin. "I suppose I could be a nice guy and throw it in the dryer for you." "It was your clay." "It was your move," she reminded him, but snatched up the damp shirt. "Okay, come on upstairs." With one hand, she tugged off her work apron, tossing it aside as she breezed through the doorway. "I suppose you're entitled to one drink on the house." "You're all heart," Alan murmured as he followed her up the stairs. "My reputation for generosity precedes me.
Nora Roberts (The MacGregors: Alan & Grant (The MacGregors, #3-4))
The Never Unfriended Promise I promise I will never unfriend you. Not with the swipe of my finger, not with the roll of my eyes, not with a mean word said behind your back, or a circle too small to pull up one more chair. I choose to like you. I choose to choose you. To include you. To invite you. Even on the days we hit road bumps. I don’t want another friendship break up. I want a friendship that won’t give up. So, I give you my too-loud laughter and my awkward tears. I give you my sofa for the days you just can’t even. And the nights you need a safe place to feel heard without saying a word. Let there be coffee and long conversations. Let there be messy, ordinary Tuesdays where neither of us is embarrassed by our dust bunnies. I won't try to force our friendship into jeans that won't fit. I won't treat you like a quick fix. I will like you just the way you are. Because I believe in guilt-free friendship. And on the days we’re tangled up in our own insecurities let’s agree to give each other the gift of the benefit of the doubt. Wrapped up with the giant bow of believing the best about each other, even when we don’t feel like it. I'm sure I won't always get it right. But I'll keep showing up. With encouragement instead of competition. With Kleenex, big news or sad news on the bad hair days and the Mondays and all the in between days with their ordinary news too. Friendship on purpose. Here's to me and you.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding and Keeping Lasting Friendships)
A zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning government, and many other points, as well of speculation as of practice; an attachment to different leaders ambitiously contending for pre-eminence and power; or to persons of other descriptions whose fortunes have been interesting to the human passions, have, in turn, divided mankind into parties, inflamed them with mutual animosity, and rendered them much more disposed to vex and oppress each other than to co-operate for their common good. So strong is this propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities, that where no substantial occasion presents itself, the most frivolous and fanciful distinctions have been sufficient to kindle their unfriendly passions and excite their most violent conflicts.
Alexander Hamilton (The Federalist Papers (Illustrated))
It’s so nice to see you again,” he said. He spoke as though it had been a while, and I nodded in agreement. As I’d assured Stanton, Adrian knew too much familiarity between us might create a trail back to Jill. “Did I just hear you two talking about building good relationships?” I was tongue-tied, so Ian answered. “That’s right. We’re here to make things friendlier between our people.” His voice, however, was most decidedly unfriendly. Adrian nodded with all seriousness, like he hadn’t noticed Ian’s hostility. “I think it’s a great idea. And I thought of something that would be an excellent gesture of our future together.” Adrian’s expression was innocent, but there was a mischievous sparkle in his eye that I “knew all too well. He held out his hand to me. “Would you like to dance?
Richelle Mead (The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines, #3))
The reaction of the people below to this fantastic sight and sound was one of wild excitement. Details could be seen vividly from aloft. An elderly man and woman fell to their knees and prayed. People in the villages stood still and gaped upward. Most of them still had their Sunday finery on. "You could see people going to church...man, wife, and child walking along the country roads." Bombardier Herbert Light, through his binoculars, saw an open-air festival in progress, with the women dressed in colorful skirts and blouses. One of them threw her apron over her head in panic. As they roared over the wheat fields, the first unfriendly acts occurred: farmers threw stones and pitchforks at them. One farmer leading two horses was startled by the advancing planes and leaped into a nearby stream. A girl swimming in another river was reported by ten separate crews.
Leon Wolff (Low Level Mission)
Ain’t misbehaving, ain’t bothering anybody, just reparating my primus,’ said the cat with an unfriendly scowl, ‘and I also consider it my duty to warn you that the cat is an ancient and inviolable animal.’ ‘Exceptionally neat job,’ whispered one of the men, and another said loudly and distinctly: ‘Well, come right in, you inviolable, ventriloquous cat!’ The net unfolded and soared upwards, but the man who cast it, to everyone’s utter astonishment, missed and only caught the pitcher, which straight away smashed ringingly. ‘You lose!’ bawled the cat. ‘Hurrah!’ and here, setting the primus aside, he snatched a Browning from behind his back. In a trice he aimed it at the man standing closest, but before the cat had time to shoot, fire blazed in the man’s hand, and at the blast of the Mauser the cat plopped head first from the mantelpiece on to the floor, dropping the Browning and letting go of the primus.
Mikhail Bulgakov (The Master and Margarita)
Just like married couples, companies can fall into the dissonance trap if they think they’re sending employees one message but those employees hear something very different. CEOs who think their firms are great places to work often are stunned when I tell them their staffs find these companies stifling, unrewarding, unfriendly, or just plain awful. This is a bad situation because it’s an open loop: There’s no feedback to correct the dissonance, so it grows worse over time. The CEO typically grows bitter, decides that “these people are underproductive whiners,” and implements punitive changes that make matters worse. The employees, in turn, grow even more annoyed or angry. Left uncorrected, this can lead to the worst-case scenario of a CEO giving people the least possible incentive to keep them working and those people doing the least they can to just hold onto their jobs, a situation that can bring a company to its knees.
Mark Goulston (Just Listen: Discover the Secret to Getting Through to Absolutely Anyone)
He is a slave.” “He is a man, as I am.” Kestrel slipped from her saddle, stood face-to-face with Ronan, and lied. “He is nothing to me.” Ronan’s anger dimmed a little. He waited, listening. “I never should have challenged Irex.” Kestrel decided to weave some truth into her story, to toughen the fabric of it. “But he and I have an unfriendly history. He made me an offer last spring. I turned him down. Since then, he has been…aggressive.” She had Ronan’s sympathy then, and she was grateful, for she didn’t know what she would do if he and Jess turned their backs on her. She needed them--not only today, but always. “Irex angered me. The slave was just an excuse.” How much easier everything would be if that were so. But Kestrel wouldn’t let herself consider the truth. She didn’t want to know its shape or see its face. “I was thoughtless and rash, but I’ve drawn my tiles and must play them. Will you help me, Ronan? Will you do as I asked in my letter?” “Yes.” He still looked unhappy. “Though as far as I can see, there is little for me to do but stand and watch you fight.” “And Jess? Will she be at the duel?” “Yes, as soon as she is done weeping her eyes out. What a fright you’ve given us, Kestrel.” Kestrel opened a saddlebag and passed Ronan the purse with the death-price. He took it, recognizing it by its weight and the fact that her letter had told him to expect it. Softly, he said, “You frightened me.” She embraced him, stepping into his arms. They relaxed around her. His chin rested on top of her head, and she felt his forgiveness. She tried to push away thoughts of Arin on the auction block, of the look in his eyes when he asked where his honor was, of him swearing at her guards in his tongue. She held Ronan more tightly, pressing her cheek against his chest. Ronan sighed. “I’ll ride with you to Irex’s house,” he said, “and see you safely home after you’ve won.
Marie Rutkoski (The Winner's Curse (The Winner's Trilogy, #1))
The weather was bitter and stormy, people's looks seemed brutal, the cars were ruthlessly driven, the buildings looked unfriendly. Her fire started to freeze by the coldness of being unwelcome and undesired on a foreign wicked land. Indeed, feelings involve one in their worlds, they make one forget one's existence; they distract one from being utterly connected with the surroundings. That was what happened, there was danger; Norina's survival was threatened. In a logical moment that could penetrate the whirlwind she had inside, she got struck by reality, her real situation; she had no money, no food, no accommodation, and no shelter. She suddenly stopped walking and shut her eyes for a whole minute as if she was installing a blank page and a brand new sense detector that could suit the new city. It wasn't easy and nothing was easy, especially controlling your own inner world. However, when it is a must, considering the level of difficulty would be trivial.
Noha Alaa El-Din (Norina Luciano)
Though he has watched a decent age pass by, A man will sometimes still desire the world. I swear I see no wisdom in that man. The endless hours pile up a drift of pain More unrelieved each day: and as for pleasure, When he is sunken in excessive age, You will not see his pleasure anywhere. The last attendant is the same for all, Old men and young alike, as in its season Man's heritage of underworld appears: There being no epithalamion, No music and no dance. Death is the finish. Not to be born beats all philosophy. The second best is to have seen the light And then to go back quickly whence we came. The feathery follies of his youth once over, What trouble is beyond the range of man? What heavy burden will he not endure? Jealousy, faction, quarreling, and battle-- The bloodiness of war, the grief of war. And in the end he comes to strengthless age, Abhorred by all men, without company, Unfriended in that uttermost twilight Where he must live with every bitter thing.
Sophocles (Oedipus at Colonus (The Theban Plays, #2))
Honest to God, I hadn’t meant to start a bar fight. “So. You’re the famous Jordan Amador.” The demon sitting in front of me looked like someone filled a pig bladder with rotten cottage cheese. He overflowed the bar stool with his gelatinous stomach, just barely contained by a white dress shirt and an oversized leather jacket. Acid-washed jeans clung to his stumpy legs and his boots were at least twice the size of mine. His beady black eyes started at my ankles and dragged upward, past my dark jeans, across my black turtleneck sweater, and over the grey duster around me that was two sizes too big. He finally met my gaze and snorted before continuing. “I was expecting something different. Certainly not a black girl. What’s with the name, girlie?” I shrugged. “My mother was a religious woman.” “Clearly,” the demon said, tucking a fat cigar in one corner of his mouth. He stood up and walked over to the pool table beside him where he and five of his lackeys had gathered. Each of them was over six feet tall and were all muscle where he was all fat. “I could start to examine the literary significance of your name, or I could ask what the hell you’re doing in my bar,” he said after knocking one of the balls into the left corner pocket. “Just here to ask a question, that’s all. I don’t want trouble.” Again, he snorted, but this time smoke shot from his nostrils, which made him look like an albino dragon. “My ass you don’t. This place is for fallen angels only, sweetheart. And we know your reputation.” I held up my hands in supplication. “Honest Abe. Just one question and I’m out of your hair forever.” My gaze lifted to the bald spot at the top of his head surrounded by peroxide blonde locks. “What’s left of it, anyway.” He glared at me. I smiled, batting my eyelashes. He tapped his fingers against the pool cue and then shrugged one shoulder. “Fine. What’s your question?” “Know anybody by the name of Matthias Gruber?” He didn’t even blink. “No.” “Ah. I see. Sorry to have wasted your time.” I turned around, walking back through the bar. I kept a quick, confident stride as I went, ignoring the whispers of the fallen angels in my wake. A couple called out to me, asking if I’d let them have a taste, but I didn’t spare them a glance. Instead, I headed to the ladies’ room. Thankfully, it was empty, so I whipped out my phone and dialed the first number in my Recent Call list. “Hey. He’s here. Yeah, I’m sure it’s him. They’re lousy liars when they’re drunk. Uh-huh. Okay, see you in five.” I hung up and let out a slow breath. Only a couple things left to do. I gathered my shoulder-length black hair into a high ponytail. I looped the loose curls around into a messy bun and made sure they wouldn’t tumble free if I shook my head too hard. I took the leather gloves in the pocket of my duster out and pulled them on. Then, I walked out of the bathroom and back to the front entrance. The coat-check girl gave me a second unfriendly look as I returned with my ticket stub to retrieve my things—three vials of holy water, a black rosary with the beads made of onyx and the cross made of wood, a Smith & Wesson .9mm Glock complete with a full magazine of blessed bullets and a silencer, and a worn out page of the Bible. I held out my hands for the items and she dropped them on the counter with an unapologetic, “Oops.” “Thanks,” I said with a roll of my eyes. I put the Glock back in the hip holster at my side and tucked the rest of the items in the pockets of my duster. The brunette demon crossed her arms under her hilariously oversized fake breasts and sent me a vicious sneer. “The door is that way, Seer. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.” I smiled back. “God bless you.” She let out an ugly hiss between her pearly white teeth. I blew her a kiss and walked out the door. The parking lot was packed outside now that it was half-past midnight. Demons thrived in darkness, so I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I’d been counting on it.
Kyoko M. (The Holy Dark (The Black Parade, #3))
The Englishman who picked up the letter to be delivered to Frederica appeared amiable and grateful for the good that he had received from our inhabitants. They had helped him find his runaway horses that he was driving through Old Ebenezer for sale in Frederica, for which service he also promised to pay. He said that he had not expected so much kindness from the German people. He revealed to Bichler that the people in Old Ebenezer had rather implied to him that our people were unfriendly and not helpful. However, Col. Stephens' son [Newdigate] had assured him of the opposite. Bichler explained to him from where such calumny came, apparently from envy, meanness, and ignorance. We tolerate no disorder such as drunkenness and shouting from either our people or from strangers; they hated our good order. Sometimes our own people would gladly be of service, but they are unable to do so and have to spend their time on their own work, for they wish to support themselves honestly and without debts.
Johann Martin Boltzius
And he closed the case. I found it very unfriendly. So young and already mystery made him uncomfortable. There was no way he could be my friend. Ruled out. Kaputt. Then it turned out he also went to Casp, a year ahead of me. And his name was Bernat Plensa i Punsoda. I may have said that already. And he was so uptight, as if they’d bathed him in a vat of hair spray and forgot to rinse him off. And I had to admit, after sixteen minutes, that that unfriendly boy who refused to accept mystery, who would never be my friend, and who was named Bernat Plensa i Punsoda, had something about him that made a violin bought for one hundred and seventy-five pesetas at Casa Parramon sound with a delicacy I had never been able to achieve. And Trullols looked at him with satisfaction and I thought what a piece of shit my violin was. That was when I swore that I would make him shut up forever, him, the violin dedicated to Madame d’Angoulême and the hair spray he’d bathed in; and I think that it would have been much better for everyone if I’d never had that thought. For the moment, all I did was let it gradually ripen. It’s hard to believe that the most unthinkable tragedies can be born of the most innocent things.
Jaume Cabré (Confessions)
Guilt-free friendship says that any time you get back to me is a good time. Guilt-free friendship says that I will always assume the best about your motivations. Guilt-free friendship says that I won't keep score when it comes to emails answered or phone calls returned. Guilt-free friendship focuses on the friendship and ditches the guilt. Guilt-free friendship loves any chance and any slice of time to catch up; it isn't about criticizing how much or how frequently that happens. Instead, guilt-free friendship is generous and forgiving and creates easy space for reconnecting because it doesn't have any conditions for how or when or how often that happens.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding and Keeping Lasting Friendships)
Oria and I walked into the kitchen to find Julen staring at a handsome young man with curly black hair and fine new livery in Astiar colors. His chin was up, and he swept a cool glance over us all as he said, “My errand is with my lady, the Countess of Tlanth.” “I am she.” I stepped forward. He gave me one incredulous look, then hastily smoothed his face as he bowed low. In the background, Julen clucked rather audibly. Next to me Oria had her arms crossed, her face stony. The young man looked about with the air of one who knows himself in unfriendly territory, and I reflected that for all his airs my brother had hired him or he wouldn’t be here, and he deserved a chance to present himself fair. “Surely you’ll have been warned that we are very informal here,” I said, and gave him a big smile. And for some reason he flushed right up to his fine hairline. Bowing again, he said courteously, “My lady, I was to give this directly to you.” I held out one hand, noticed the dirt smudges, and hastily wiped it on my clothes before putting it out again. When I glanced up at the equerry, I saw in his eyes just a hint of answering amusement at the absurdity of the situation, though his face was strictly schooled when he handed me the letter. “Welcome among us. What is your name?” I said. “Jerrol, as it pleases you, my lady.” And again the bow. “Well, it’s your name if it pleases me or not,” I said, sitting on the edge of the great slate prep table. Julen clucked again, but softly, and I looked to the side, saw the preparations for tarts lying at the ready, and hastily jumped down again. “Tell me, Jerrol,” I said, “if a great Court lady mislikes the name of a new equerry, will she rename him or her?” “Like…Frogface or Stenchbelly?” Calaub asked from the open window, and beyond him three or four urchins snickered. Jerrol glanced about him, his face quite blank, but only for a moment. He then swept me a truly magnificent bow--so flourishing that no one could miss the irony--and he said, “An my lady pleases to address me as Stenchbelly, I shall count myself honored.” He pronounced it all with awful elegance. And everyone laughed! I said, “I think you’ll do, Jerrol, for all your clothes are better than any of us have seen for years. But you will have heard something of our affairs, I daresay, and I wonder how my brother managed to hire you, and fit you out this splendidly, in our colors?” “Wager on it yon letter will explain,” Julen said grimly, turning to plunge her hands into her flour. “Oh!” I had forgotten Jerrol’s original purpose for arriving, and looked down at the letter with my name scrawled above the seal in Branaric’s careless hand.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
A kiss with Lenore is a scenario in which I skate with buttered soles over the moist rink of lower lip, sheltered from weathers by the wet warm overhang of upper, finally to crawl between lip and gum and pull the lip to me like a child’s blanket and stare over it with beady, unfriendly eyes out at the world external to Lenore, of which I no longer wish to be part. That I must in the final analysis remain part of the world that is external to and other from Lenore Beadsman is to me a source of profound grief. That others may dwell deep, deep within the ones they love, drink from the soft cup at the creamy lake at the center of the Object of Passion, while I am fated forever only to intuit the presence of deep recesses while I poke my nose, as it were, merely into the foyer of the Great House of Love, agitate briefly, and make a small mess on the doormat, pisses me off to no small degree. But that Lenore finds such tiny frenzies, such conversations just inside the Screen Door of Union, to be not only pleasant and briefly diverting but somehow apparently right, fulfilling, significant, in some sense wonderful, quite simply and not at all surprisingly makes me feel the same way, enlarges my sense of it and me, sends me hurrying up the walk to that Screen Door in my best sportjacket and flower in lapel as excited as any schoolboy, time after time, brings me charging to the cave entrance in leopardskin shirt, avec club, bellowing for admittance and promising general kickings of ass if I am impeded in any way.
David Foster Wallace (The Broom of the System)
The intellectual life may be kept clean and healthful if man will live the life of nature and not import into his mind difficulties which are none of his. No man need be perplexed in his speculations. Not less conspicuous is the preponderance of nature over will in all practical life. There is less intention in history than we ascribe to it. We impute deep-laid far-sighted plans to Cæsar and Napoleon; but the best of their power was in nature, not in them. Our life might be much easier and simpler than we make it; that the world might be a happier place than it is; that there is no need of struggle, convulsions, and despairs, of the wringing of the hands and the gnashing of the teeth; that we miscreate our own evil. A little consideration of what takes place around us every day would show us that a higher law than that of our will regulates events; that our painful labors are unnecessary and fruitless; that only in our easy, simple, spontaneous action are we strong, and by contenting ourselves with obedience we become divine. No man can learn what he has not preparation for learning, however near to his eyes is the object. Not in nature but in man is all the beauty and worth he sees. The world is very empty, and is indebted to this gilding, exalting soul for all its pride. He may see what he maketh. Our dreams are the sequel of our waking knowledge. The visions of the night bear some proportion to the visions of the day. Hideous dreams are exaggerations of the sins of the day. We see our evil affections embodied in bad physiognomies. The same reality pervades all teaching. The man may teach by doing, and not otherwise. If he can communicate himself he can teach, but not you words. He teaches who gives, and he learns who receives. There is no teaching until the pupil is brought into the same state or principle in which you are; a transfusion takes place; he is you and you are he; then is a teaching, and by no unfriendly chance or bad company can he never quite lose the benefit. The effect of every action is measured by the depth of the sentiment from which it proceeds. The great man knew not that he was great. It look a century or two for that fact to appear. What he did, he did because he must; it was the most natural thing in the world, and grew out of the circumstances of the moment. But now, every thing he did, even to the lifting of his finger or the eating of bread, looks large, all-related, and is called an institution. We are full of these superstitions of sense, the worship of magnitude. We call the poet inactive, because he is not a president, a merchant, or a porter. We adore an institution, and do not see that it is founded on a thought which we have. But real action is in silent moments. The epochs of our life are not in the visible facts of our choice of a calling, our marriage, our acquisition of an office, and the like, but in a silent thought by the wayside as we walk; in a thought which revises our entire manner of life and says,—‘Thus hast thou done, but it were better thus.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!   “Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth into battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended in the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames in summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it —   For our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimmage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!   We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.   (After a pause.) “Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits.”   …
Smedley D. Butler (War Is A Racket!: And Other Essential Reading)
These things cannot be loved. The best man hates them most; the worst man cannot love them. But are these the man? Does a woman bear that form in virtue of these? Lies there not within the man and the woman a divine element of brotherhood, of sisterhood, a something lovely and lovable,—slowly fading, it may be,—dying away under the fierce heat of vile passions, or the yet more fearful cold of sepulchral selfishness—but there? Shall that divine something, which, once awakened to be its own holy self in the man, will loathe these unlovely things tenfold more than we loathe them now—shall this divine thing have no recognition from us? It is the very presence of this fading humanity that makes it possible for us to hate. If it were an animal only, and not a man or a woman that did us hurt, we should not hate: we should only kill. We hate the man just because we are prevented from loving him. We push over the verge of the creation—we damn—just because we cannot embrace. For to embrace is the necessity of our deepest being. That foiled, we hate. Instead of admonishing ourselves that there is our enchained brother, that there lies our enchanted, disfigured, scarce recognizable sister, captive of the devil, to break, how much sooner, from their bonds, that we love them!—we recoil into the hate which would fix them there; and the dearly lovable reality of them we sacrifice to the outer falsehood of Satan's incantations, thus leaving them to perish. Nay, we murder them to get rid of them, we hate them. Yet within the most obnoxious to our hate, lies that which, could it but show itself as it is, and as it will show itself one day, would compel from our hearts a devotion of love. It is not the unfriendly, the unlovely, that we are told to love, but the brother, the sister, who is unkind, who is unlovely. Shall we leave our brother to his desolate fate? Shall we not rather say, "With my love at least shalt thou be compassed about, for thou hast not thy own lovingness to infold thee; love shall come as near thee as it may; and when thine comes forth to meet mine, we shall be one in the indwelling God"?
George MacDonald (Unspoken Sermons, Series I., II., and III.)
St. Just lifted his mug and peered into the contents. “Higgins explained that Goliath is a horse of particulars. Westhaven, did Valentine spit in my mug?” Westhaven rolled his eyes as he glanced at first one brother then the other. “For God’s sake, nobody spat in your damned mug. Pass the butter and drop the other shoe. What manner of horse of particulars is Sophie’s great beast?” “He does not like to travel too far from Sophie. He’ll tool around Town all day with Sophie at the ribbons. He’ll take her to Surrey, he’ll haul her the length and breadth of the Home Counties, but if he’s separated from his lady beyond a few miles, he affects a limp.” “He affects a limp?” Vim picked up his mug and did not look too closely at the contents. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” “I’ll tell you what I’ve never heard of.” Westhaven shot him a peevish look. “I’ve never heard of my sister, a proper, sensible woman, spending a week holed up with a strange man and allowing that man unspeakable liberties.” Lord Val paused in the act of troweling butter on another roll. “Kissing isn’t unspeakable. We know the man slept in my bed, else he’d be dead by now.” And thank God that Sophie hadn’t obliterated the evidence of their separate bedrooms. “I have offered your sister the protection of my name,” Vim said. “More than once. She has declined that honor.” “We know.” Lord Val put down his second roll uneaten. “This has us in a quandary. We ought to be taking you quite to task, but with Sophie acting so out of character, it’s hard to know how to go on. I’m for beating you on general principles. Westhaven wants a special license, and St. Just, as usual, is pretending a wise silence.” “Not a wise silence,” St. Just said, picking up Lord Val’s roll and studying it. “I wonder how many cows you keep employed with this penchant you have for butter. You could write a symphony to the bovine.” Lord Val snatched his roll back. “Admit it, St. Just, you’ve no more clue what’s to be done here than I do or Westhaven does.” “Or I do.” The words were out of Vim’s mouth without his intention to speak them. But in for a penny… “I want Sophie to be happy. I do not know how to effect that result.” A small silence spread at the table, a thoughtful and perhaps not unfriendly silence. “We want her happy, as well,” Westhaven said, his glance taking in both brothers.
Grace Burrowes (Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish (The Duke's Daughters, #1; Windham, #4))
After the Grand Perhaps” After vespers, after the first snow has fallen to its squalls, after New Wave, after the anorexics have curled into their geometric forms, after the man with the apparition in his one bad eye has done red things behind the curtain of the lid & sleeps, after the fallout shelter in the elementary school has been packed with tins & other tangibles, after the barn boys have woken, startled by foxes & fire, warm in their hay, every part of them blithe & smooth & touchable, after the little vandals have tilted toward the impossible seduction to smash glass in the dark, getting away with the most lethal pieces, leaving the shards which travel most easily through flesh as message on the bathroom floor, the parking lots, the irresistible debris of the neighbor’s yard where he’s been constructing all winter long. After the pain has become an old known friend, repeating itself, you can hold on to it. The power of fright, I think, is as much as magnetic heat or gravity. After what is boundless: wind chimes, fertile patches of the land, the ochre symmetry of fields in fall, the end of breath, the beginning of shadow, the shadow of heat as it moves the way the night heads west, I take this road to arrive at its end where the toll taker passes the night, reading. I feel the cupped heat of his left hand as he inherits change; on the road that is not his road anymore I belong to whatever it is which will happen to me. When I left this city I gave back the metallic waking in the night, the signals of barges moving coal up a slow river north, the movement of trains, each whistle like a woodwind song of another age passing, each ambulance would split a night in two, lying in bed as a little girl, a fear of being taken with the sirens as they lit the neighborhood in neon, quick as the fire as it takes fire & our house goes up in night. After what is arbitrary: the hand grazing something too sharp or fine, the word spoken out of sleep, the buckling of the knees to cold, the melting of the parts to want, the design of the moon to cast unfriendly light, the dazed shadow of the self as it follows the self, the toll taker’s sorrow that we couldn’t have been more intimate. Which leads me back to the land, the old wolves which used to roam on it, the one light left on the small far hill where someone must be living still. After life there must be life.
Lucie Brock-Broido (A Hunger)
Many other inhabitants of the city were similarly afflicted. Every day, more and more people took to saving time, and the more they did so, the more they were copied by others - even by those who had no real desire to join in but felt obligated to. Radio, television, and newspapers daily advertised and extolled the merits of new, time saving gadgets that would one day leave people free to live the 'right' kind of life. Walls and billboards were plastered with posters depicting scenes of happiness and prosperity. The real picture, however, was very different. Admittedly, timesavers were better dressed than the people who lived near the old amphitheater. They earned more money and had more to spend, but they looked tired, disgruntled and sour, and there was an unfriendly light in their eyes. They'd never heard the phrase, "Why not go and see Momo?' nor did they have anyone to listen to them in a way that would make them reasonable or conciliatory, let alone happy. Even had they known such a person, they would have been highly unlikely to pay him or her a visit unless the whole affair could be dealt with in five minutes flat, or they would have considered it a waste of time. In their view, even leisure time had to be used to the full, so as to extract the maximum of entertainment and relaxation with the minimum amount of delay. Whatever the occasion, whether solemn or joyous, timesavers could no longer celebrate it properly. Daydreaming they regarded almost as a criminal offense. What they could endure least of all, however, was silence, for when silence fell they became terrified by the realization of what was happening to their lives. And so, whenever silence threatened to descend, they made a noise. It wasn't a happy sound, of course, like the hubbub in a children's playground, but an angry ill tempered din that grew louder every day. It had ceased to matter that people should enjoy their work and take pride in it; on the contrary, enjoyment merely slowed them down. All that mattered was to get through as much work as possible in the shortest possible time, so notices to the effect were prominently displayed in every factory and office building. They read: TIME IS PRECIOUS - DON'T WASTE IT! or: TIME IS MONEY - SAVE IT! Last but not least, the appearance of the city itself changed more and more. Old buildings were pulled down and replaced with modern ones devoid of all the things that were now through superfluous. No architect troubled to design houses that suited the people who were to live in them, because that would have meant building a whole range of different houses. It was far cheaper, and above all, more time saving to make them identical. Huge modern housing developments sprang up on the city's outskirts - endless rows of multi-storied tenements as indistinguishable as peas in a pod. And because all the buildings looked alike, so of course, did the streets. [.....] People never seemed to notice that, by saving time, they were losing something else. No one cared to admit that life was becoming even poorer, bleaker, and more monotonous. The ones who felt this most keenly were the children, because no one had time for them any more. But time is life itself, and life resides in the human heart. And the more people saved, the less they had.
Michael Ende, Momo
The clever economists who tell us that we don’t need British agriculture and that our farms should be turned into national parks seem to ignore the rather obvious snag that an unfriendly country could starve us into submission in a week. But to me a greater tragedy still would be the loss of a whole community of people like
James Herriot (All Things Wise and Wonderful (All Creatures Great and Small, #3))
And when we met amid the shadows, we were wrapped in the mantle of love, and from its folds looked out fearless on the ghostly world about us. Ghosts or none, they never annoyed us. Our love was a talisman, yea, an elixir of life, which made us equal to the twice-born—the disembodied dead. And they were as a wall of fear about us, to keep far off the unfriendly foot and the prying eye.
George MacDonald (The Portent)
why haven’t I picked up English? Because of the English.’ She said this triumphantly. ‘They haven’t made their country or their customs friendly to me. Now their language is just as unfriendly
Balli Kaur Jaswal (Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows)
Being shy and being unfriendly are not the same thing, but sadly most people cannot tell the difference.
Alice Feeney (Rock Paper Scissors)
Won the lottery? Before you let anyone you know you won, ask all your friends to borrow some money and help you move. Unfriend the ones who refuse.
Richard Heart (sciVive)
*2 The strategy of speaking to individuals is not only vital to the delivery of any message, it’s a useful antidote to fear of public speaking. No one wants to be stared at by hundreds of unfriendly, judgmental eyes. However, almost everybody can talk to just one attentive person. So, if you have to deliver a speech (another terrible phrase) then do that. Talk to the individuals in the audience—and don’t hide: not behind the podium, not with downcast eyes, not by speaking too quietly or mumbling, not by apologizing for your lack of brilliance or preparedness, not behind ideas that are not yours, and not behind clichés.
Jordan B. Peterson (12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos)
identity politics endorse the concept that people are essentially tribal, and our differences are irreconcilable, which of course makes diversity and inclusion impossible. This is the toxic dead-end of identity politics; it’s a trap. But even so I didn’t reject people because they believed in this, or wanted to align themselves with a particular candidate. They were free to do as they wanted, and as a friend I supported them. I might not have agreed with them but I wasn’t about to unfriend anyone because of what his politics happened to be.
Bret Easton Ellis (White)
Morveer held his hand a moment longer, then let it free. "Pray have a seat.' He smiled upon Murcatto as she worked her way into her chair, the barest phantom of a grimace on her face. I must confess I was expecting you to be considerably less beautiful." She frowned at that. 'I was expecting you to be less friendly. 'Oh, I can be decidedly unfriendly when it is called for, believe me." Day silently appeared and slid a plate of sweet cakes onto the table, a tray with a bottle of wine and glasses. 'But it is hardly called for now, is it? Wine?
Joe Abercrombie (Best Served Cold)
Diaz moved as though to get out. “No, ma’am,” Dox said, scoping the area. “Tell me where the phone is and you stay put. Just in case there are any unfriendlies in the area.” “Behind a book called Recursion, by Blake Crouch. Level three. Fiction.
Barry Eisler (The Chaos Kind (John Rain, #11, Livia Lone, #5))
In the early 1980s, the Reagan administration tasked the National Commission on Excellence in Education to assess the quality of schools. In its widely read report entitled A Nation at Risk, the commission asserted, “If an unfriendly foreign power had attempted to impose on America the mediocre educational performance that exists today, we might well have viewed it as an act of war. As it stands, we have allowed this to happen to ourselves.” It deplored “the rising tide of mediocrity” in schools, as “more and more young people [graduated] from high school ready neither for college nor for work.”27 Much of this is still true today.
Raghuram G. Rajan (The Third Pillar: How Markets and the State Leave the Community Behind)
At once my anxiety subsided; it was now no longer (as it had been a moment ago) until to-morrow that I had lost my mother, for my little line was going—to annoy her, no doubt, and doubly so because this contrivance would make me ridiculous in Swann's eyes—but was going all the same to admit me, invisibly and by stealth, into the same room as herself, was going to whisper from me into her ear; for that forbidden and unfriendly dining-room, where but a moment ago the ice itself—with burned nuts in it—and the finger-bowls seemed to me to be concealing pleasures that were mischievous and of a mortal sadness because Mamma was tasting of them and I was far away, had opened its doors to me and, like a ripe fruit which bursts through its skin, was going to pour out into my intoxicated heart the gushing sweetness
Marcel Proust (Swann's Way (In Search of Lost Time, #1))
But what aren't you doing already? What more can you possibly do?’ ‘I guess he means the team stuff’, I said. ‘The bonding. The camaraderie I've never really been –‘. ‘Don't start judging yourself’, she said sharply. ‘Don't start seeing yourself in the light of those kinds of standards.’ ‘No, but it's true. There's always been the part of work I've struggled with, the unquestioning side. The feeling of joining in. I've always tried to do it at this kind of remove. Maybe what he's saying is –‘ ‘Of course you've done it at a remove. How else are you supposed to do it and still be you?’ ‘But maybe those days are gone’, I said. ‘Maybe I have to accept that. Maybe there just won't be those kind of jobs anymore - the ones where you can roll out of bed and staggering without speaking to anyone and keep your head down and just do it, you know? maybe this is what work is, now’ […] ‘Definitely. Simple tasks can be automated. They've already almost got the machine learning to do what you do. It's about what else a human can bring to the table, which is, literally, their humanity.’ It was possible, I realised, to imagine. A semi-global future in which the bulk of paid human employment would revolve not around hard skills, but around the messy, blurry business of interpersonal success. A new divide would open up, between the well liked, The easy to get along with, and the awkward, The rude, the unfriendly. I pictured the encampment on which I had lived, filled not as it was then, with migrants, unfortunates, hard drinkers, the out of luck. But instead, the abrasive, the poorly adjusted, the excessively reserved and painfully shy. (p.136-7)
Sam Byers (Come Join Our Disease)
I sat beside Charlie. Opposite us, in the Black Maria, was a red-haired boy of my own age, and a small man with a broken nose, a cauliflower ear, and a begrudging look. He was going up for kicking his wife. He was not unfriendly, and told me his name was Donohoe. I said that by a coincidence that was my mother’s name. It was not her name, but civility costs nothing.
Brendan Behan (Borstal Boy)
The science of success inspires men and women to become practical dreamers who rise above unfriendly circumstances and create their own opportunities to fit their own aims and ambitions. Practical dreamers have always been the pattern makers of civilization, and they always will be. Any person who in the future cherishes a lofty dream and holds fast to it will be more than apt to see that dream become a reality, for truly this is an age that needs practical dreamers.
Napoleon Hill (Napoleon Hill Is on the Air!: The Five Foundations for Success)
Seven years later Lisa’s number is still in my phone under her daughter’s name. And Lisa is still my first phone call. No matter what. Sprained ankles, lice, a new writing project, family drama, or that new chick flick. I call Lisa. Now, sure, there have been many, many other attempts with other women who’ve been too busy or too overwhelmed or whatever other “too” might be taking up space in their lives that left no real room to connect. And that’s okay. Because it only takes one. It only takes one friend to fill us up and pull us out of our phobias about being “new.” One friend will kryptonite-proof you against that paranoia that you don’t belong. One friend will insulate you with the delicious sense of familiarity in a completely unfamiliar group. Lisa was my one over and over and over again for those seven years, and it was hard thinking about doing it again without her. But because I remembered how it started, I had a head start on knowing how to start over. Back to basics. The shortest distance between strangers is often a shared honest story.
Lisa-Jo Baker (Never Unfriended: The Secret to Finding & Keeping Lasting Friendships)
Although the rise of Galicia was a clear indication of the growing importance of the borderlands, its union with Volhynia bore the promise of greater, even epochal consequences for all of Eastern Europe. The man who brought about this union was Roman Mstyslavych (1173-1205) of Volhynia. Immersed in political struggles from early youth, Roman was chosen as prince by the Novgorodians in 1168 to defend their city against Suzdal's aggressive designs in the north, while his father, Mstyslav of Volhynia, competed with Andrei Bogoliubsky of Suzdal for control of Kiev in the south. After his father's death in 1173, Roman took over and reconstituted the fragmented, neglected family holdings in Volhynia. In 1188, the Galician boyars invited him to rule their land, but princely rivals and unfriendly boyar factions prevented him from doing so. Only in 1199 was he able to return to Galicia and unite it with Volhynia, thus creating a new, imposing conglomerate on the political map of Eastern Europe with an energetic, forceful prince of great ability at its head. In his domestic policies Roman concentrated on expanding his princely power: that is, on undermining the boyars, many of whom he either exiled or executed. "You can't enjoy the honey without killing the bees" was one of his favorite sayings. As was often the case elsewhere in Europe, the prince's allies in the struggle with the oligarchy were the townsmen and minor boyars.
Orest Subtelny (Ukraine: A History)
She turned down dinner invitations, offers to have lunch. She kept to herself at conferences, always retiring to her room, not caring if people found her unfriendly. Given what she’d done to Subhash and Bela, it felt wrong to seek the companionship of anyone else. Isolation offered its own form of companionship: the reliable silence of her rooms, the steadfast tranquility of the evenings. The promise that she would find things where she put them, that there would be no interruption, no surprise. It greeted her at the end of each day and lay still with her at night. She had no wish to overcome it. Rather, it was something upon which she’d come to depend, with which she’d entered by now into a relationship, more satisfying and enduring than the relationships she’d experienced in either of her marriages.
Jhumpa Lahiri (The Lowland)
The fearful began to instantly see the entire humanity of an individual in a cheeky, offensive tweet and were outraged; people were attacked and unfriended for backing the “wrong” candidate or having the “wrong” opinion or for simply stating the “wrong” belief. It was as if no one could differentiate between a living person and a string of words hastily typed out on a black sapphire screen. The culture at large seemed to encourage discourse but social media had become a trap, and what it really wanted to do was shut down the individual. What often activated my stress was that other people were always angry about everything, presenting themselves as enraged by opinions that I believed in and liked or thought were simply innocuous. My pushback against all of this forced me to confront a degraded fantasy of myself—an actor, as someone I never thought existed—and this, in turn, became a constant reminder of my failings. And what was worse: this anger could become addictive to the point where I just gave up and sat there exhausted, mute with stress. But ultimately silence and submission were what the machine wanted.
Bret Easton Ellis (White)
Democracy thrives because of competing voices in politics as well as in the media. If Facebook becomes my primary source of news, with the ability to filter what I see, then the civic square will no longer exist. If I “unfriend” Fox News and conservative commentator David Brooks in order for my worldview to be continually affirmed, then a principal aspect of our democracy—the need to remain informed—will die.
Jonathan Taplin (Move Fast and Break Things: How Facebook, Google, and Amazon Cornered Culture and Undermined Democracy)
The hills had looked friendly in the sunshine, but in this wild weather their aspect had changed. They were not so much unfriendly as indifferent – old, grim and enigmatical. They made one feel that human life was a precarious thing. They made one feel helpless and ephemeral as a butterfly. It was a horrible feeling
D.E. Stevenson (The Tall Stranger)
January 21st A MORNING RITUAL “Ask yourself the following first thing in the morning: What am I lacking in attaining freedom from passion? What for tranquility? What am I? A mere body, estate-holder, or reputation? None of these things. What, then? A rational being. What then is demanded of me? Meditate on your actions. How did I steer away from serenity? What did I do that was unfriendly, unsocial, or uncaring? What did I fail to do in all these things?” —EPICTETUS, DISCOURSES, 4.6.34–35
Ryan Holiday (The Daily Stoic: 366 Meditations on Wisdom, Perseverance, and the Art of Living)
unfriendly and abrupt,
Katrina Kahler (The New Girl-Book 1 : The Twins' New Neighbor: Books for Girls)
All the men I'd ever been with, young as well as old, had been detached and unfriendly.
Ottessa Moshfegh (My Year of Rest and Relaxation)
You’re right about that,” said Grimes. “We can prepare to defend ourselves.” “Oh, I didn’t mean that. I meant that we could visit them.” At this, Dr. Grimes turned perfectly purple. “You dreamer! You visionary!” he exclaimed. “Visit them? We’ll undoubtedly have them visit us before long—with their butcher knives ready. Why don’t you just sprinkle yourself with parsley and lie down on a plate?” “Well, chiefly because we haven’t any parsley,” said the Professor gently. “Come, now, Grimes. We have no proof that these people are unfriendly. And we certainly have no proof that they’re cannibals.” “Proof?” Dr. Grimes controlled himself with an effort. “Bullfinch, I have no intention of waiting to be put into a pot for proof.
Jay Williams (Danny Dunn on a Desert Island)
To be precise, she doesn’t like the way her smile photographs as forced. So smiling’s out. But she doesn’t think she can sustain a sober look without seeming unfriendly, so she frequently switches between two expressions—one she thinks of as Alert and the other she thinks of as Accommodating, though she’s the only one who can tell the difference.
Helen Oyeyemi (Gingerbread)
Nothing is truer in the field of human relations than this: If your basic attitude is that other people will be unfriendly—or that “people just don’t like me”—your experience will prove it to be so. But if you have the basic attitude that “Most people are friendly, and want to be friendly toward me”—again your experience will prove it so.
Les Giblin (How to Have Confidence and Power in Dealing With People)