Unsolicited Love Quotes

When did they stop putting toys in cereal boxes? When I was little, I remember wandering the cereal aisle (which surely is as American a phenomenon as fireworks on the Fourth of July) and picking my breakfast food based on what the reward was: a Frisbee with the Trix rabbit's face emblazoned on the front. Holographic stickers with the Lucky Charms leprechaun. A mystery decoder wheel. I could suffer through raisin bran for a month if it meant I got a magic ring at the end. I cannot admit this out loud. In the first place, we are expected to be supermoms these days, instead of admitting that we have flaws. It is tempting to believe that all mothers wake up feeling fresh every morning, never raise their voices, only cook with organic food, and are equally at ease with the CEO and the PTA. Here's a secret: those mothers don't exist. Most of us-even if we'd never confess-are suffering through the raisin bran in the hopes of a glimpse of that magic ring. I look very good on paper. I have a family, and I write a newspaper column. In real life, I have to pick superglue out of the carpet, rarely remember to defrost for dinner, and plan to have BECAUSE I SAID SO engraved on my tombstone. Real mothers wonder why experts who write for Parents and Good Housekeeping-and, dare I say it, the Burlington Free Press-seem to have their acts together all the time when they themselves can barely keep their heads above the stormy seas of parenthood. Real mothers don't just listen with humble embarrassment to the elderly lady who offers unsolicited advice in the checkout line when a child is throwing a tantrum. We take the child, dump him in the lady's car, and say, "Great. Maybe YOU can do a better job." Real mothers know that it's okay to eat cold pizza for breakfast. Real mothers admit it is easier to fail at this job than to succeed. If parenting is the box of raisin bran, then real mothers know the ratio of flakes to fun is severely imbalanced. For every moment that your child confides in you, or tells you he loves you, or does something unprompted to protect his brother that you happen to witness, there are many more moments of chaos, error, and self-doubt. Real mothers may not speak the heresy, but they sometimes secretly wish they'd chosen something for breakfast other than this endless cereal. Real mothers worry that other mothers will find that magic ring, whereas they'll be looking and looking for ages. Rest easy, real mothers. The very fact that you worry about being a good mom means that you already are one.

Here lies the partner's salvation: if you, as his intimate, wish to sever your relationship with the narcissist, stop providing him with what he needs. Do not adore, admire, approve, applaud, or confirm anything he does or says. Disagree with his views belittle him, reduce him to size, compare him to others, tell him he is not unique, criticize him, give unsolicited advice, and offer him help. In short, deprive him of the grandiose and fantastic illusions, which holds his personality together. The narcissist is a delicately attuned piece of equipment. At the first sign of danger to his inflated False Self, he will quit and disappear on you.

You can’t escape being judged in this world. Everything is hard. You have to choose your hard. Someone is going to shove out their unsolicited, hurtful opinion no matter what you do. You can’t live for others.

Maybe in the end, that’s what love was. Forgiveness. Undeniable, unsolicited, and at times unrequited.

He would have recoiled still more had he been aware that her attachment rose unsolicited, and was bestowed where it awakened no reciprocation of sentiment; for the minute he discovered its existence, he laid the blame on Heathcliff's deliberate designing.

Doctors love unsolicited stool samples. Next time, shit in a to-go box and leave it in your favorite medical professional’s fridge. Or just order some duck poop and have it delivered.

He is so hot,” I heard one of them squeal when she thought she was out of earshot. Spoiler: she wasn’t. I wished I could run after her and give her some unsolicited big-sister advice. Don’t fall for guys who look like they could break your heart because chances are, they will.

If only, I thought, I could talk to Eugene just one more time. This was before I came to understand that you cannot make someone fall in love with you But here's what you can do. By arguing and pleading and screaming and crying and throwing plates and phoning a lot and bringing hot food and sending flowers and buying gifts and doing unsolicited favors and remembering a birthday and being nice and declaring your abiding love and trying hard or sometimes merely by being present, you can make someone who was hitherto lukewarm really detest you.

Attempting to extort financial or other benefits from STC in exchange for unsolicited PR (or other) services

unsolicited advice to adolescent girls with crooked teeth and pink hair When your mother hits you, do not strike back. When the boys call asking your cup size, say A, hang up. When he says you gave him blue balls, say you’re welcome. When a girl with thick black curls who smells like bubble gum stops you in a stairwell to ask if you’re a boy, explain that you keep your hair short so she won’t have anything to grab when you head-butt her. Then head-butt her. When a guidance counselor teases you for handed-down jeans, do not turn red. When you have sex for the second time and there is no condom, do not convince yourself that screwing between layers of underwear will soak up the semen. When your geometry teacher posts a banner reading: “Learn math or go home and learn how to be a Momma,” do not take your first feminist stand by leaving the classroom. When the boy you have a crush on is sent to detention, go home. When your mother hits you, do not strike back. When the boy with the blue mohawk swallows your heart and opens his wrists, hide the knives, bleach the bathtub, pour out the vodka. Every time. When the skinhead girls jump you in a bathroom stall, swing, curse, kick, do not turn red. When a boy you think you love delivers the first black eye, use a screw driver, a beer bottle, your two good hands. When your father locks the door, break the window. When a college professor writes you poetry and whispers about your tight little ass, do not take it as a compliment, do not wait, call the Dean, call his wife. When a boy with good manners and a thirst for Budweiser proposes, say no. When your mother hits you, do not strike back. When the boys tell you how good you smell, do not doubt them, do not turn red. When your brother tells you he is gay, pretend you already know. When the girl on the subway curses you because your tee shirt reads: “I fucked your boyfriend,” assure her that it is not true. When your dog pees the rug, kiss her, apologize for being late. When he refuses to stay the night because you live in Jersey City, do not move. When he refuses to stay the night because you live in Harlem, do not move. When he refuses to stay the night because your air conditioner is broken, leave him. When he refuses to keep a toothbrush at your apartment, leave him. When you find the toothbrush you keep at his apartment hidden in the closet, leave him. Do not regret this. Do not turn red. When your mother hits you, do not strike back.

Because they were the weapon, and I was built to pardon their pain. Maybe in the end, that's what love was. Forgiveness. Undeniable, unsolicited, and at times unrequited. It was the ability to look past the pain despite all the hurt it could cause you because in the end you knew it could do the same for you.

Judgment is but a mirror that reflects the insecurities of the person who’s doing the judging. Most criticism is nothing but an unsolicited discharge of personal preference. And because you didn’t ask for it, you aren’t required to respond. Better yet, it’s best not to fire back. Instead, click delete or mute

Please look for a new work of historical fiction, The Black Spaniard by L.L.Holt, to be published by Unsolicited Press during the 2016-2017 season. Set roughly between 1792 and 1804 in Vienna, Austria, the novel explores a creative genius's encounters with cultural diversity, transformation, and the love of a good friend.

try telling a lover that love is not good for him. If you get a smile in return for your unsolicited advice, be assured that even though you were heard by the tiniest germ that swam the air at that moment, the pair of ears that the advice was meant for had cut out the disturbing sound frequencies before you had even emitted them.

Nothing fills Vera with quite as much joy as watching loved ones eat her food. It’s one of the many things she misses about Jinlong and Tilly. When it was the three of them at home, she’d cook every day and watch as Jinlong and Tilly ate, and food always tasted so much better that way. Living alone, Vera finds that much of the joy of cooking has leached out of her, to the point where she mostly eats plain rice and simple sauteed vegetables for dinner. Why bother cooking elaborate meals for just one person? But now she has so many people to cook for. Her days are filled to bursting and she’s constantly rushing here and there, and she can’t possibly be happier than this.

Our true friends gave us kindness, unsolicited, but desperately needed. Their gifts were a sign that even our shattered home could be put back together—with community, with family, and with love. They had given us back Christmas, and each other. Our true friends had broken the hold grief had on us and gave us an extraordinary experience during a holiday season that otherwise would have been bleak. They had given us our own Christmas legend, as Nick had called it, a modern-day miracle. That’s a lot to accomplish in twelve days. Was this precious lesson the twelfth gift?

In their book Warrior Lovers, an analysis of erotic fiction by women, the psychologist Catherine Salmon and the anthropologist Donald Symons wrote, "To encounter erotica designed to appeal to the other sex is to gaze into the psychological abyss that separates the sexes.... The contrasts between romance novels and porn videos are so numerous and profound that they can make one marvel that men and women ever get together at all, much less stay together and successfully rear children." Since the point of erotica is to offer the consumer sexual experiences without having to compromise with the demands of the other sex, it is a window into each sex's unalloyed desires. ... Men fantasize about copulating with bodies; women fantasize about making love to people. Rape is not exactly a normal part of male sexuality, but it is made possible by the fact that male desire can be indiscriminate in its choice of a sexual partner and indifferent to the partner's inner life--indeed, "object" can be a more fitting term than "partner." The difference in the sexes' conception of sex translates into a difference in how they perceive the harm of sexual aggression. ... The sexual abyss offers a complementary explanation of the callous treatment of rape victims in traditional legal and moral codes. It may come from more than the ruthless exercise of power by males over females; it may also come from a parochial inability of men to conceive of a mind unlike theirs, a mind that finds the prospect of abrupt, unsolicited sex with a stranger to be repugnant rather than appealing. A society in which men work side by side with women, and are forced to take their interests into account while justifying their own, is a society in which this thick-headed incuriosity is less likely to remain intact. The sexual abyss also helps to explain the politically correct ideology of rape. ... In the case of rape, the correct belief is that rape has nothing to do with sex and only to do with power. As (Susan) Brownmiller put it, "From prehistoric times to the present, I believe, rape has played a critical function. It is nothing more or less than a conscious process of intimidation by which all men keep all women in a state of fear." ... Brownmiller wrote that she adapted the theory from the ideas of an old communist professor of hers, and it does fit the Marxist conception that all human behavior is to be explained as a struggle for power between groups. But if I may be permitted an ad feminam suggestion, the theory that rape has nothing to do with sex may be more plausible to a gender to whom a desire for impersonal sex with an unwilling stranger is too bizarre to contemplate. Common sense never gets in the way of a sacred custom that has accompanied a decline of violence, and today rape centers unanimously insist that "rape or sexual assault is not an act of sex or lust--it's about aggression, power, and humiliation, using sex as the weapon. The rapist's goal is domination." (To which the journalist Heather MacDonald replies: "The guys who push themselves on women at keggers are after one thing only, and it's not reinstatement of the patriarchy.")

Don’t make me pull up on you, Elle.” Because I knew it was more of a threat than a promise, I couldn’t help but tease, “Pull up and do what? Fuck my thick ass glasses off?” Smirking, he replied, “Nah, I’d fold ‘em up nicely. Then make you fold right after.

If I can’t get your love, time, money, hope, and positivity, don’t thrash me with your desperation, anxiety, negativity, criticism, or unsolicited advice. 

Maybe in the end, that’s what love was: forgiveness. Undeniable, unsolicited, and at times, unrequited. It was the ability to look past the pain despite all the hurt it could cause you, because in the end, you knew it could do the same for you. If that wasn’t love, maybe this was as good as it got for someone like me.

We find still another figure of this truth in the Old Testament, where God commanded the first and the last days of the week to be observed with particular solemnity, thus teaching us that He rejoices with His children in the beginning as well as in the consummation of their perfection. Those who are entering the path of virtue are treated by God with the tenderness and consideration which are shown to children. The affection of a mother for her younger sons is not greater than that which she bears those of riper years, yet she tenderly carries the little ones in her arms, and leaves the older ones to walk by themselves. The latter are sometimes obliged to earn their food before it is given them, while the little ones not only receive it unsolicited, but are tenderly fed. This is a faint image of the loving care with which God surrounds those who are beginning to serve Him.

Joel, for all his talk of communal childrearing and tribes, deeply resented the idea that Lenny should have succeeded in evoking Audrey's passion where her 'real' children had failed. 'Karla and Rosa are your flesh and blood,' he would chide her. But these appeals to sanguine loyalty missed the point, she felt. If anything, the fact that Lenny was not hers made it easier to love him. As the coauthor of Karla and Rosa, she could not help but look upon them with the dissatisfied eye of an artist assessing her own flawed handiwork. Lenny, on the other hand, was an unsolicited donation: she was free to enjoy the gift of him without any burden of genetic responsibility for his imperfections. She had chosen to love him. The disparity in her feelings toward her daughters and her son was regrettable, but it was not something that was her gift to correct.

February 19 MORNING “Thus saith the Lord God; I will yet for this be enquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them.” — Ezekiel 36:37 PRAYER is the forerunner of mercy. Turn to sacred history, and you will find that scarcely ever did a great mercy come to this world unheralded by supplication. You have found this true in your own personal experience. God has given you many an unsolicited favour, but still great prayer has always been the prelude of great mercy with you. When you first found peace through the blood of the cross, you had been praying much, and earnestly interceding with God that He would remove your doubts, and deliver you from your distresses. Your assurance was the result of prayer. When at any time you have had high and rapturous joys, you have been obliged to look upon them as answers to your prayers. When you have had great deliverances out of sore troubles, and mighty helps in great dangers, you have been able to say, “I sought the Lord, and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.” Prayer is always the preface to blessing. It goes before the blessing as the blessing’s shadow. When the sunlight of God’s mercies rises upon our necessities, it casts the shadow of prayer far down upon the plain. Or, to use another illustration, when God piles up a hill of mercies, He Himself shines behind them, and He casts on our spirits the shadow of prayer, so that we may rest certain, if we are much in prayer, our pleadings are the shadows of mercy. Prayer is thus connected with the blessing to show us the value of it. If we had the blessings without asking for them, we should think them common things; but prayer makes our mercies more precious than diamonds. The things we ask for are precious, but we do not realize their preciousness until we have sought for them earnestly. “Prayer makes the darken’d cloud withdraw; Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw; Gives exercise to faith and love; Brings every blessing from above.

Men looove pussy. They can never get enough of it. If you send a guy a pussy pic, he's gonna think you're awesome. And he assumes you feel the same way if he sends you an unsolicited dick pic. He loves jerking off while looking at pussy, and in his mind he's certain that you must love dick pics as much as he loves pussy pics. It is such a given to him, it never even occurred to him that it might not be true. If you have a dog, you know what I'm talking about. Sometimes a dog brings you his favorite toy in the whole world. And he puts it in your lap. Not because he wants you to throw it. This is not for him. This is for you. He wants you to have it. When you look at his toy, all you see is a dirty old sock, covered in crusty dried dog spit. But that's not what he sees. To him that sock is the most awesome thing in the whole world. And he is putting The Most Awesome Thing In The Whole World in your lap. Then he sits down in front of you and stares into your eyes as if to say: "This is my gift to you. May it give you the same endless hours of joy and happiness that it has given me." And that's exactly what men think when they send you a dick pic.

It is lonely and painful to be always misunderstood, but there is at least from this point of view a measure of safety in isolation [...]The other's love is therefore feared more than his hatred, or rather all love is sensed as a version of hatred. By being loved one is placed under an unsolicited obligation. [Ontological insecurity]

Why are they so quiet?” There may be several reasons and one might be that they’re not sure it’s safe to say what they want to say without being misunderstood, ridiculed, or deluged with a lot of unsolicited advice or suggestions. If they’ve experienced some of those things in the past, they are liable to clam up, be silent, and keep their thoughts to themselves. In their mind, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Nothing fills Vera with quite as much joy as watching loved ones eat her food. It’s one of the many things she misses about Jinlong and Tilly. When it was the three of them at home, she’d cook up a storm every day and watch as Jinlong and Tilly ate, and food always tasted so much better that way.

They Respect Your Boundaries Emotionally mature people are innately courteous because they naturally honor boundaries. They’re looking for connection and closeness, not intrusion. For emotionally immature people, on the other hand, getting close to someone often leads to taking the person for granted. They seem to think closeness means manners don’t matter. Emotionally mature people will respect your individuality. They never assume that if you love them, you’ll want the same things they do. Instead, they take your feelings and boundaries into account in any interaction. This may sound like a lot of work, but it isn’t; emotionally mature people automatically tune in to how others are feeling. Real empathy makes consideration of other people second nature. An important gesture of courtesy and good boundaries in relationships is not to tell partners or friends what they should feel or think. Another is respecting that others have the final say on what their motivations are. In contrast, immature people who are looking for control or enmeshment may “psychoanalyze” you to their own advantage, telling you what you really meant or how you need to change your thinking. This is a sign that they disrespect your boundaries. Emotionally mature people may tell you how they feel about what you did, but they don’t pretend to know you better than you know yourself. If you were neglected by emotionally immature parents during childhood, you may find yourself willing to put up with unsolicited analysis and unwanted advice from others. This is common among people who are hungry for personal feedback that shows someone is thinking about them. But this kind of “advice” isn’t nourishing attention; rather, it’s motivated by a desire to be in control.

narrowing her eyes like Shaina from Love Is Blind season two

Maybe in the end, that's what love was. Forgiveness. Undeniable, unsolicited, and at times unrequited.

The tears that immediately filled my eyes made no sense.

As loving humans, we want to provide solutions for each other, but no one likes receiving unsolicited feedback.

We like to get involved in other people’s business, thinking we are doing so for them. We offer unsolicited help and interfere with their lives. We take away their power and make them feel incapable. This stems from our desire for control and recognition. It has little to do with love. We should love people like the sun loves the earth. The sun loves the earth without choosing to. It nourishes trees and flowers, expecting nothing in return. It does not withhold its rays but brightens everything with its presence.

She was a quagmire that would never let me go. Would I stop loving her? Probably not. Would I love anyone else like I loved her? Probably not. Did I hate her because she had dumped me? Definitely not. A woman as beautiful as her had a right to be selfish: getting unsolicited attention and approval from males all her life, being admired for her looks everywhere she went. How could she turn out any different? Among the scores of men, who had been affected and haunted by her beauty, I was a more fortunate one. At least, I had been able to chase an impossible dream. I had always known in my heart that she was not destined to be an ordinary spouse; to run a household, juggle a career and children. She was cut out for the finer things in life – bungalows, travel, gowns, imported cars, diamonds, and a life of luxury. Our lives could have never converged.

Because they were the weapon, and I was built to pardon their pain. Maybe in the end, that's what love was. Forgiveness. Undeniable, unsolicited, and at times unrequited. It was the ability to look past the pain despite all the hurt it could cause you because in the end you know it could do the same for you.

This friendship had been going on for months now. She prized it as only the lonely can prize an interruption in their daily solitude. And since to feel friendship is to want to bestow marks of attention, even when they are unsolicited, she was never without a lump or two of sparkling sugar in her worn black bag, to offer him when they met. He was a lovely roan with a white streak down his forehead. He was a mounted policeman’s horse. Everyone must have something to love.