Vip Quotes

Your naked body should only belong to those who fall in love with your naked soul.

As I got closer to the fence, I held my shirt over my nose to block the smell. One stallion waded through the muck and whinnied angrily at me. He bared his teeth, which were pointed like a bear's. I tried to talk to him in my mind. I can do that with most horses. Hi, I told him. I'm going to clean your stables. Won't that be great? Yes! The horse said. Come inside! Eat you! Tasty half-blood! But I'm Poseidon's son, I protested. He created horses. Usually this gets me VIP treatment in the equestrian world, not this time. Yes! The horse agreed enthusiastically. Poseidon can come in, too! We will eat you both! Seafood! Seafood! The other horses chimed in as they waded through the field.

Slipping in the side door to the VIP section , she scanned the crowd , well aware that she was looking for one male in particular. And he was there. Fucking John Matthew.

Wow. I've never been a VIP before. I've never even been a IP.

My VIP patients often regret so many things on their deathbeds. They regret the bitterness they'll leave in people's hearts. They realize the no money, no church service, no eulogy, no funeral procession no matter how elaborate, can remove the legacy of a mean spirit.

A person can get…stuck, for lack a better word, in a life. It’s surprisingly easy, really. Hours bleed into days; days fade into months. Before you know it, years have passed, and you’re just this person, someone your younger self wouldn’t even recognize.

You are my greatest weakness because I have no defense when it comes to you.

I lost hope when I saw the horses’ teeth. As I got closer to the fence, I held my shirt over my nose to block the smell. One stallion waded through the muck and whinnied angrily at me. He bared his teeth, which were pointed like a bear’s. I tried to talk to him in my mind. I can do that with most horses. Hi, I told him. I’m going to clean your stables. Won’t that be great? Yes! The horse said. Come inside! Eat you! Tasty half-blood! But I’m Poseidon’s son, I protested. He created horses. Usually this gets me VIP treatment in the equestrian world, but not this time. Yes! The horse agreed enthusiastically. Poseidon can come in, too! We will eat you both! Seafood!

Destroyed. My polished armor. My stubborn resistance. My hardened heart. She’s smashed through the first two and laid total claim on the third. And I don’t feel like running.

You know, I’m not actually comfortable being an asshole to women.” “Really?” I say, biting the corner of my lip to keep from smiling. “But you do it so well.

Yesterday I had a woman ask me what kind of salad dressings we have. I told her we have sesame soy dressing, spicy lime vinaigrette, and blue cheese. She made a face and asked, 'Is that all?' 'Yes,' I told her, 'those are all of our dressings.' 'Don't you have any other dressings?' he says. I mean, what the hell? What does she think? That I'm holding out? I was tempted to say, "No, we actually have an entirely different assortment of dressings that I don't tell people about the first time they ask, because they don't deserve these great secret dressings. But now that you have proven your worth, I will show you to the VIP room, where the array of salad dressings will dazzle and delight you.

Music can be your friend when you have none, your lover when you’re needy. Your rage, your sorrow, your joy, your pain. Your voice when you’ve lost your own. To be a part of that, to be the soundtrack of someone’s life, is a beautiful thing. —Killian James, lead singer and guitarist, Kill John

Baby doll, I could assert my manly dominance, thump my chest, and declare you’re mine. But it wouldn’t mean a damn thing if I’m not yours in return.

I wasn’t prepared to need you this much. I don’t know who I am anymore if you aren’t with me.

A VIP area is nothing without not-so-important people.

I was a VIP, a Very Iranian Person, and things just take longer for us.

My chatty girl has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. Because I’m not letting her go.

Men can’t go around introducing their woman as, “Mine; Touch her and lose a finger.” Can they?

Really, just looking around, you feel a twinge of pity for the poor souls who succeeded in getting past the Pearly Gates. One can't help but picture the lackluster VIP lounge in Heaven, a kind of nonalcoholic ice-cream social starring Harriet Beecher Stowe and Mahatma Gandhi. Hardly anyone's idea of a "with-it" social register.

I will never laugh at you,” he promises fiercely. “Ever. I’m your safe place, Libby. You’ve got to know that.

It is an odd thing to discover I’m lonely, despite never truly being alone. But I am. I want someone to know the real me, not the shiny shell I show the world.

But the best thing about Spain? Siestas. God bless any country that has decided yes, we shall shut down business and take a long nap in the middle of the day. How can you not love them for that?

He’ll never know. What stays in the VIP room happens in the VIP room,” she slurs. “Don’t you mean what happens in the VIP room stays in the VIP room?” “That’s what I said.” I snicker. “Oh, okay.

You should know, I can’t be a fling. Not with you. If you want me, you have to be all in.” A frown knots his brows, and when he speaks, his voice is a rasp. “I’ve lived my whole life denying myself what I truly want. And yet I cannot turn from you. Haven’t you realized it yet? I am yours. I will always be yours, whether I touch you or not.

Don’t you dare feel bad for me. I’m not writing this for you to shed tears. My story goes a whole lot deeper than this, and I definitely don’t want your pity. I adapted. I embraced whatever the fuck came or would come. That’s what I do.

Oh, I bet you’d find that marvelous; all of us helpless women just smiling and nodding. Though I’m afraid it would never work on me.” “Of course not,” he deadpans. “I’m stuck next to the one afflicted with an apparently incurable case of verbal diarrhea.” “Says the man who is socially constipated.

It’s an endurance race. You endure. You keep moving forward. But some days, Stella…Some days I get so fucking tired.” “Then rest,” I whisper. “Rest with me. Let me be where you lay your head for a while.

We can’t protect the ones we love; we can only let them know we’ll be there to pick them up when they fall.

She is dangerous because I cannot control her. And she is utterly beautiful, like molten glass that tempts you to touch even though you know you’ll be burned.

You know those books and movies where the girl wears a guy’s pants and they hang on her tiny frame? Yeah, I’m not sure what sort of pixies populate fiction, but not so much for me.

I don’t know whether to run or grab hold of her and never let go.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, at thirty-five thousand feet, she wrapped herself around me, and my brain decided to equate her scent, the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin, with comfort. I have no idea how I’m supposed to dissuade myself of this notion, and I am not yet ready to try.

Did you just tweak my nipple?” “Is that rhetorical?” “Beware, chatty girl, I can retaliate.” “Promise? Ooh, I like that smolder, it’s very Flynn Ryder.” “You’re comparing me to cartoon characters now?” “Animated characters. Huge difference. And it’s cute that you know who he is.

Have I told you how much it turns me on when you’re grumpy?” “No. But you’re a twisted individual, so I’m not surprised.

Christ Almighty, give me strength to let her go, or let me do her right.

Jesus on a motorcycle, he has a happy trail.

Yes, this is my son, Felix Tiberius Scott.” Felix lifts his fist as if to say, “Respect my awesomeness, woman!

When your absence is felt, your presence is the essence and it makes a difference.

God, she’s gonna feed me. I’d like this girl just for that. But I’ve got to hold myself together.

Jesus,” I blurt out, lifting my hand as if to shield my eyes. “It’s like looking into the sun.” “What?” he snaps, those laser-bright eyes narrowing. Oh, this will be fun. “Just stop, will you?” I squint at him. “You’re too hot. It’s too much to take.” This is true, though I’d never have the guts to say so in normal circumstances. “Are you quite well?” he intones, as if he thinks the opposite. “No, you’ve nearly rendered me blind.” I flap a hand. “Do you have an off switch? Maybe put it on low?

You do not want to get between a woman and her ice cream, bud.

Be with me. Let’s fall together.

Thank you,” I say when I can find my voice. “For trusting me. For falling for me. I promise, Stella, I’ll always be there to catch you.

I am a cold man. Any happiness or warmth I’ve felt died when Jax tried to take his life. Until you.” His ragged breath gusts over my cheek. “You are my warmth.

Ack, joke gone bad, joke gone bad,” Brenna wails, flapping her hands. “Run away. Run away.

Xhex couldn't stop herself from torturing them both. She sent him a mental scene, drilling the image right into his head : the two of them in a private bathroom, him up on the sink and leaning back, her with one foot planted on the counter, his sex deep in hers, the two of them panting. While he stared accross the crowded room, John's mouth parted, and the flush on his cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the orgasm that was no doubt pounding up his shaft. God, she wanted him. His buddy, the readhead, snapped her out of the madness. Blaylock came back to the table with three beers hanging from their necks, and as he took a look at John's hard, sexep-up face, he stopped short and glanced over at her in surprise. Shit. Xhex waved off the bouncers who were coming up to her and walked out of the VIP section so fast, she nearly bowling-pinned a waitress. Her office was the only place that was safe, and she headed there at a dead run.

I stare at him, unwilling to hide my hurt. “You hate me?” He blinks as if trying to break out of a fog. Color tints his cheeks, and his breath kicks up one more. “I think,” he says, “adore would be the better word.” Oh. Hell. Those intense eyes fixate on me, baring his soul. It is filled with pain and need. “You are my greatest weakness because I have no defense when it comes to you.

I fell straight into the abyss. My want of her isn’t just physical; it is soul deep.

She told me she was mine. She has to know I’m hers too. She fucking owns me now.

Which reminds me… While I do enjoy anal play with a woman now and then, I have never munched an ass.

Love breaks your heart, fucks you up— perfect, all-consuming chaos.” … He wraps me up in his arms, his eyes on mine. “But it’s also this. Peace, and warmth, and so fucking beautiful, you’ll risk anything to keep it.

This time he was dreaming of a VIP room backstage at the club, filled with champagne and coffee, a gaggle of groupies trying to break down the door so that - in the dream, Simon somehow knew this was their intent - they could tear of his clothes and ravish him.

I’m your safe place, Libby. You’ve got to know that.

I find myself wanting to study his lower abdomen, where the muscles are like stepping stones leading the way down to Mr. Happy.

Liar, liar, your knickers are on fire.

I’ve lived my whole life denying myself what I truly want. And yet I cannot turn from you. Haven’t you realized it yet? I am yours. I will always be yours, whether I touch you or not.

I was standing there, looking at her, and she became…more. I couldn’t…I couldn’t think, man. Everything simply…” I wave a hand in annoyance at myself. “Tilted. The world tilted, and there she was. You know?

You think if you sit there, looking petrified and tense, I’ll offer a blowjob to distract you from it all.” My humiliation comes to a screeching halt upon hearing the word blowjob. “What?” “Well, it’s not going to happen.” Ignore the cock. Ignore him. He’s an idiot. Focus on the problem at hand. “You are deranged. Completely deranged.

She is dangerous because I cannot control her.

Lady Luck is a selective bitch.

You’re my reason, the answer to all questions.

You’re acting like a mother hen.” Which I love. “Cluck, cluck,” he deadpans

Gabriel Scott might not know how to manage me, but I sure as shit am clueless when it comes to him too.

This isn’t solely about sex; if it was, I’d have fucked her already. This is uncomfortably more. I have never experienced intimacy. I did not know how good it felt to simply be with someone and let everything else melt away. The world can fuck off when I’m with Sophie Darling. There is only us. I don’t have to be anyone else but Gabriel.

International correspondents with their long dictaphones, and dirty jeans, and five hundred words before whiskey, are slouched over the red velvet chairs, in the VIP section in the front, looking for the Story: the Most Macheteing Deathest, Most Treasury Corruptest, Most Entrail-Eating Civil Warest, Most Crocodile-Grinning Dictatorest, MOst Heart-Wrenching and Genociding Pulitzerest, Most Black Big-Eyed Oxfam Child Starvingest, Most Wild African Savages Having AIDS-Ridden Sexest with Genetically Mutilatedest Girls...The Most Authentic Real Black Africanest story they can find...

Is he drunk?” Whip asks with some concern. “Naw,” Killian drawls. “All I see are empty water bottles.” “Drowning his sorrows in bottled water. At least he’s not cliché,” Rye murmurs before sitting next to me.

Love is what you do in life – Gabriel Scott Love is who you do in life – Sophie Darling

Babe, if I’ve learned anything about opportunity, it’s that you make it happen. Fear will only hold you back. You can have the world. Just reach for it.” “I don’t need the world,” she whispers. “What do you need?” I ask just as softly. Her hands slide up to my neck, her lips nuzzling my jaw. “You.

talk like that again! You’re not allowed to use the words ‘I’ and ‘die’ in the same sentence. You’re not allowed to die before me, ever! You think you couldn’t bear to lose our sons? Well, I couldn’t lose you and stay sane. Kitten, I know what life is without you. “If I died…” Shocked, Beth tried to stop his words, but his finger pressed against her lips, halting her words. “If I died,” he continued, “you would be strong enough to carry on and raise our children. Eventually, you would make it through life until we could be together again. Me, on the other hand, I am an asshole. If I couldn’t have you, then there wouldn’t be anything of me left to give anyone.

I don’t need you to fix me, Stella. I need you for everything else. I need your smiles, your laughter. I need you to be my best friend, my lover, my all. I need to take care of you, touch your skin, make you dinner, give you pleasure whenever you’re in need.” I lean in, emotion clogging my throat. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’d happily spend the rest of my life trying to be the best thing that has ever happened to you too.

Everybody goes through pain man…life is never going to be completely positive. It's never going to rain gummy bears, gumdrops, or skittles. Keep your mouth open anyway, and embrace those moments in the rain...at one point you just have to click reset.

They’re your family. Anyone can see that you love them. He stills as if he’s absorbing my words. “Most people believe I’m incapable of feeling anything.” Outrage punches through my chest like a burning fist. In that moment, I know I’d go to war for this man. Even if he hated every second of it. No one should have to face the world without someone at their back. Especially not someone as dedicated as Gabriel.

I’m in pain now, actual physical pain – in my balls, my abs, my chest. Everything aches with a throbbing persistence, wrought from self-denial. I want this woman more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. But I want to keep her. I have no idea how to keep anyone close to me. Because I have no idea how to expose my heart.

What did I say about speculating?” I warn. “One more word and I’ll have you all doing a music video with synchronized dancing faster than you can say Backstreet Boys.” Whip lifts up a hand. “Okay, geesh. Got it. You two are an impenetrable wall that no one shall gaze upon. No need to go all Simon Cowell on us.

I can’t promise you perfection. I’m a moody bastard sometimes. I’ll have down days. But I tried living without you, and it was the worst feeling of my life. You’re part of me, Stella.” My fist thumps against my chest where it still feels hollow and incomplete. “You live here. Always.

There isn’t anyone I want to be around more than you. You occupy my thoughts, haunt my dreams. I can no more stay away from you than I can try to keep my heart from beating.

I don’t know where this will go, or if I’ll be any good at it, but I want to be on this road with you.

I love you, Stella. I don’t want to go through this life without you.

... she opens her mouth. Then it's one long stream of colorful bitch.

How are dudes in real life supposed to compete when women are reading about python dicks and pussy whisperers?

You’ve stepped on the train to La-La Land if you think you’re getting this ice cream, Button.” “Button?” ““You heard me” He grins then-all teeth-and gestures toward the other flavours with a nod of his head. “Give up the ghost and grab the Neapolitan over there. Because this ice cream is mine.

I’m trying to show you how much I care, that your dreams mean something to me! They’re not things to be swept under the rug or given lip service. They fucking matter, Libby. You matter.

She stands in the doorway to our room, blue sundress rumpled, the rosy light of sunset slanting through the wide widows and illuminating the gold of her hair. I’m struck speechless, my breath cutting short. I am not a poetic man, but I want to be one now. I want to do justice to her beauty and the way she fills me with a strange mixture of utter peace and demanding need.

You know what? Fuck it. Here’s the truth: I wasn’t happy — until I met you.” I literally rock back on my heels, nearly blown away by his candor. His hands fist as he takes a step closer. “I’ve been here for nearly two months. I never stay in one place that long. And why do you think I’m still here? The scenery? No. It’s you that I don’t want to leave.

Creatures of the Darkness BY VICKI JORDAN It was world of vampires and demons, where innocence was rare and so were the living. It was a world of darkness, where light had been outlawed and nightfall had swallowed us whole. An epic war had been fought, and the creatures of the dark had finally prevailed over the promoters of the light. Finally, for the first time in existence, the people of the shadows could come out and freely walk among one another in the rays of the dying sun, which had once been used to shun them away. A little girl, a child of the light, had survived the battle and crawled out from under the ashes of the destruction. She looked around at her altered world in dismay and confronted a vampire about the changes, of which she did not approve. “Why did you turn my world into a world of night, and make wrong into a new form of right? How could you make all the light disappear, and with it everyone I once loved so dear? Why are the shadows now the new sun, and why is everything lost what you have won?” The vampire looked down at the little girl with amusement and delight. “Because, little girl, this is the real world you see, where there’s no light to shine on false identities. We didn’t destroy the world just to scare; we simply uncovered what was already there. What has come out was all the darkness that was once hidden within, and you’ll soon meet the darkness in you once my fangs pierce your skin.” We are our own greatest fears…..

We’re all good when we want to be, otherwise we’re fucking animals. There’s no VIP room in reality, and there is no reality in this city. You can’t Google the answers. People talke about being on the ride of your life—THIS IS YOUR LIFE. Whatever you need to know, you already know. Imagine what it is to be in another country, another landscape—heat, insects, fear. Imagine watching someone right in front of you trip on a wire, step on a mine, blow their body to shreds, in mid-sentences, mid-cigarette. Imagine yourself splattered with human flesh. Imagine talking to that boy for the five minutes when he is profoundly conscious of the fact that he is not goingt to make it home. Imagine the difference between that and being in upstate New York, drinking beer, trying to get laid, and spending the summer as lifeguard at Lake George. Imagine zipping your friends into body bags. Tell me why anyone ever thought this was a good idea. How could anyone not be angry? You’d have to be insane.” --Nic Thompson

I didn’t let her in. She just ended up there. I met her, and she became a part of me.” His dark eyes pin me. “It wasn’t a matter of letting her in. It was accepting that she was already there and going with it.

God, that's a cute dress." She plops down in the chair opposite me. "Is it wrong to want to hire based on that dress alone?" "I wouldn't complain," I say, shaking her hand. "But feel free to ask me more questions if you must.

The bed creaks as he eases closer. And then I feel it. Oh, fucking hell. Just no. He can’t do this to me. It’s big, it’s hard, and it’s nudging my ass. We both freeze. Well, Gabriel freezes. His dick? It nudges me again, that blunt head pushing into the small of my back as if to say hello. “Involuntary reaction,” Gabriel says in a strangled voice. “Ignore it.” His hard-on says otherwise. I swallow with difficulty. “Your hard dick is poking me in the ass. I can no more ignore it than if you slapped me in the face with it.” He stills, a sound gurgling in his throat. I’m about to apologize for being so crude, when he bursts out laughing.

I’m new to the area. I could get lost. Next thing you know, I’m half-starved, and in my weakened condition, I could be eaten by wild, rabid bunnies.” “Bunnies?” I hadn’t wanted to laugh but did anyway. “Of all the animals, you go with bunnies?” “Have you ever looked in a bunny’s eyes, Libs? They’re just waiting for their chance to dominate. Why do you think they’re always so twitchy?” “Because they’re freaked something’s going to eat them for dinner?” “Nope. They’re plotting. It’s just a matter of time before they make their move. Mark my words.

Hear me well, John Blackwood, because I know how hard it is for you to take a compliment. You talk of my strength? You are the strongest person I’ve ever known. You are a survivor. Every day you fight for a better life. I am in awe of you. I adore you. I have since the beginning. Fear isn’t an easy thing to shake. But for you? I will be right there fighting by your side and never regret a day.

This is your fault, you know.” “My fault?” His brows lift, but he doesn’t look away from his magazine. “How on earth did you come to that conclusion?” “Your freaky good looks made her blind to all but you, sunshine.” His expression is blank, though his lips twitch. “If only I could strike women speechless.

You’ve told me repeatedly now that you find me blindingly attractive.” “That doesn’t mean I like you. Besides, your brand of pretty is like a weapon. You reel victims in with it, just like a vampire does. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sparkle in the sun.” “I cannot believe I’m arguing with a woman who references Twilight.” “The fact that you know I’m referencing Twilight betrays you as a secret Edward-loving fanboy.” His snort is loud and scathing. “Team Jacob all the way.” I can’t help it, my eyes fly open, and I lift a corner of my mask to glare at him. “That’s it. We can never be friends.

Just think of me as your friendly neighborhood cuddler.” He’s quiet again before another question bursts from him. “Are you telling me you’d do this for anyone?” I snuggle down. “No. That you’re insanely hot is a huge factor. I get to cop a feel under the guise of civic duty.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” A smile pulls at my lips. “Can it with the outrage. I know for a fact that most people would rather snuggle up to a hot dude. If it makes me shallow for admitting that, so be it.” He

Utter another word and I will bite you like a rabid ferret.” John gapes at me for a second, then bursts out laughing – full, shoulder-shaking laughing that cause tears to well in his eyes. I huff out an annoyed breath. “I’m serious. Fear my wrath, rocker boy.” He laughs harder. “Make it stop,” he rasps through his tears. “My stomach hurts.” “Ass-nugget,” I mutter, which makes him hunch over.

We stopped you from going, didn't we? Me and Shiva. Our birth?" Don't be silly. Can you imagine me giving up this?" he said sweeping his hand to indicate family, Missing, the home he'd made out of a bungalow. "I've been blessed. My genius was to know long ago that money alone wouldn't make me happy. Or maybe that's my excuse for not leaving you a huge fortune! I certainly could have made more money if that had been my goal. But one thing I won't have is regrets. My VIP patients often regret so many things on their deathbeds. They regret the bitterness they'll leave in people's hearts. They realize the no money, no church service, no eulogy, no funeral procession no matter how elaborate, can remove the legacy of a mean spirit. Of course, you and I have seen countless deaths among the poor. Their only regret surely is being born poor, suffering from birth to death. You know, in the book of Job, Job says to God, 'You should've taken me straight from the womb to the tomb! Why the in-between part, why life, if it was just to suffer?' Something like that. For the poor, death is at least the end of suffering.

You mean like Cat Stevens? The singer-songwriter? I bite back a snicker. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of the man,” Mr. Scott says dryly. “I’d assume he was far past your age group.” “I make it my business to know a lot of factoids, most of which are useless in today’s contemporary society.” “What’s its name?” “Hawn,” he says. “Like Han Solo?” “Not Han. Hawn. H-A-W-N.” I pause, hand in the middle of pushing my hair back from my face. “Goldie Hawn?” Mr. Scott sighs, as I laugh.

The guys were giving me shit,” I blurt out, my common sense weakened by his nearness. “About you. They implied that you were a cold fish where sex was involved. That you don’t…er…do that anymore.” God, I can’t look at him. I brace for his ire, but he laughs. Not long or very loud, but his chest shakes, and he wipes a hand over his face as he tries to get control of it. “And you what?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with mirth. “Thought I was a virgin?” “No.” I kick his foot lightly. “No. I just…Gah! You said fuck , and it got me thinking about it.” “Fucking?” he asks, grinning wide enough to flash his white teeth. I look away so I can’t be charmed any further. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t,” he teases in a tone so unlike him – so like me - that I meet his gaze. “No, I don’t,” I agree quietly.

Whenever thoughts arise, just observe them as thoughts and label them “thinking.” What usually happens when we have thoughts is that we absorb ourselves and cease to be aware that we are thinking at all. One should try not to suppress thoughts in meditation, but just try to see their transitory nature, their translucent nature. We do not become involved in them or reject them, but simply acknowledge them and then come back to the awareness of breathing. There should be no deliberate effort to control and no attempt to be peaceful. Our thoughts simply cease to be the VIPS in our lives. On the other hand, there is no implication that by sitting and meditating, coming back to the breath, we have found a way to avoid problems, an escape from one point to another. Meditation is not a quick cure or cover-up for the complicated or embarrassing aspects of ourselves. It is a way of life. It is extremely important to persist in our practice without second-guessing ourselves through disappointments, elations, or whatever. We might actually begin to see the world we carry with us in a more open, refreshing way. Meditation is very much a matter of exercise, a working practice. It is not a matter of going into some imaginary depth, but of widening and expanding outward.

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