We're Not Compatible Quotes

We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love.

We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness — and call it love — true love.

You and I both know that love is for children,'' he said. ''We're adults. Compatibility is for adults.'' ''Compatibility is for my Bluetooth and my car,'' Teresa replied. ''Only they get along just fine, and my car never makes my bluetooth feel like shit.

Of course.” She fluffed her hair. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m very high maintenance.” “Uh, I think low maintenance is what’s desirable.” “Low maintenance is what’s forgettable. You might want to write that down, underline it, circle it and put a star by it. It’s golden.” With barely a breath, she added, “Now let’s find out if we’re compatible, shall we?

Oh, we're compatible. Your working parts and mine were in perfect alignment just a few seconds ago.

If anyone should talk to her," Renfield piped up, "it should be me. We're the most compatible, culturewise. I'm sure that on top of feeling as if she's been thrust into one of the many levels of Hades, with all of its attendant demons, she feels like a lady wandering, lost, amongst the mannerless cads of the slums." We were all silent for a moment before Tom asked, "You do realize that we're sitting right here, right?" "Oh, I am horribly aware of this fact." "Just checking.

One day I have a revelation. ‘I think we’re actually quite compatible,’ I tell him. ‘You’re irritable, and I’m irritating.

Maybe there is beauty in opening yourself up to the love you don't expect and traits that will keep you guessing. Because compatible or incompatible, we're all just trying to love and be loved, however that might look.

I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves." -Zane Julien "A Ninja never admits defeat. A Ninja always picks himself up when he's down." -Kai Smith "Some of us may look a little different, but like our team; some things never change." -Cole Brookstone "It's important to be yourself." -Jay Walker "We're friends. Good Friends. But, that's all we're ever gonna be . . ." -Nya Smith "We are not so different . . Are we? We are . . . Compatible?" -Pixel "The best way to defeat your enemy, is to make them your friend." -Sensei Wu "The only way to defeat an Oni is with another Oni. You need me." -Garmadon

All right. I have a serious question.” “What?” Jeremy’s forehead crinkled. “What do you like on your pizza? Because if we’re not compatible there, no way can we be pretend compatible anywhere else.” “That’s a lot of pressure.” Jeremy licked his lips and tried to look serious. “What if I get this wrong? Does that mean we’re done pretend fucking?” “Yup. Which would totally suck for you because I am awesome in pretend bed. So let’s hear it: favorite pizza toppings.

No rough housing.” “Rough housing? We’re twenty,” I point out. “Fine.” He surveys the scene, noticing the girls. “Then no orgies.” He takes his leave.

To get just an inkling of the fire we're playing with, consider how content-selection algorithms function on social media. They aren't particularly intelligent, but they are in a position to affect the entire world because they directly influence billions of people. Typically, such algorithms are designed to maximize click-through, that is, the probability that the user clicks on presented items. The solution is simply to present items that the user likes to click on, right? Wrong. The solution is to change the user's preferences so that they become more predictable. A more predictable user can be fed items that they are likely to click on, thereby generating more revenue. People with more extreme political views tend to be more predictable in which items they will click on. (Possibly there is a category of articles that die-hard centrists are likely to click on, but it’s not easy to imagine what this category consists of.) Like any rational entity, the algorithm learns how to modify its environment —in this case, the user’s mind—in order to maximize its own reward.

In wartime, land is measured by the bones it can bury. A house is worth only the bomb that banishes it. Gold can be spent in any country, any year, any afterlife. The sun shits it out every morning. Even Ma misreads the slogans on the back of American coins: IN GOLD WE TRUST. That's why she thinks we're compatible with this country. She still believes we can buy its trust.

And you might also remember you are the greatest healer among us. That is unchallenged by anyone." "I am the greatest killer, also unchallenged." He tried to give her truth again. She touched his hard mouth. "I will hunt with you then,lifemate." His heart slammed against his ribs. Her smile was mysterious, scretive, and so beautiful,it broke his heart. "What is behind this smile,bebe." His hand caught and spanned her throat, his thumb brushing her lips in a gentle caress. "What do you know that I do not?" His mind slipped into hers, a sensuous thrust, the ultimate intimacy, not unlike the way his tongue sometimes dueled with her-or his body took possession of hers. She was familiar with his touch in her mind. She knew he tried to keep its invasiveness to a minimum. He allowed her to set the bounderies and never pushed beyond any barrier she erected, even though he could do so easily. Both of them needed the intimate union of their minds merging, Savannah as much as Gregori. And her newfound knowledge of him was secure behind a miniature barricade she had hastily erected. Wide-eyed and innocent, she looked at him. His thumb pressed into her lower lip, half mesmerized by the satin perfection of it. "You will never hunt vampires, ma cherie, not ever.And if I were ever to catch you attempting such a thing,there would be hell to pay." She didn't look scared. Rather, amusement crept into the deep blue of her eyes. "Surely you aren't threatening me,Dark One, bogey man of the Carpathians." She laughed softly, a sound that feathered down his spine and somehow took away the sting of that centuries-old designation. "Stop looking so serious, Gregori-you haven't lost your reputation entirely. Everyone else is still terrified of the big bad wolf." His eyebrows shot up. She was teasing him. About his dark reputation, of all things. Her gaze was clear and sparkling, hinting at mischeif. Savannah wasn't railing against her fate, of being tied to him, a monster. She was too filled with life and laughter, with joy. He felt it in her mind, in her heart, in her very soul. He wished it could somehow rub off on him,make him a more compatible lifemate for her. "You are the only one who needs to worry about the big bad wolf, mon amour," he threatened with mock gravity. She leaned over to stare up into his eyes, a smile curving her soft mouth. "You cracked a joke, Gregori. We're making progress.Why,we're practically friends." "Practically?" he echoed gently. "Getting there fast," she told him firmly with her chin up,daring him to contradict her. "Can one be friends with a monster?" He said casually, as if he were simply musing out loud,but there was a shadow in his silver eyes. "I was being childish, Gregori, when I made such an accusation," she said softly, her eyes meeting his squarely.

We spend most of our time seeking to become happy, as if something important needs to be found or accomplished, or otherwise added to our experience in the present moment. We're always solving problems, meeting deadlines, running errands, fulfilling desires, defending opinions, and every implied end to our efforts reveals itself to be a mirage. There is simply no resting place. In some basic sense, we never arrive, and the question of finding meaning in life is a component of this search. We want to be able to tell ourselves a satisfying story about who we've been, and who we are, and who we're becoming. Of course it makes sense to do whatever you can to secure a good life, to find satisfying work, to maintain your health, to create a happy family, but it is also terrifying to have one's wellbeing entirely depend upon the shifting sands of experience and the stories we tell ourselves. The great power of mindfulness is that it can connect you with a sense of wellbeing that is intrinsic to simply being conscious in each moment, and this is a deeper discovery than finding meaning in one's life, though it's entirely compatible with that. Through mindfulness you can discover that whatever you seek to accomplish, you can never truly become happy, you can only be happy...

To recap, Motivation 2.0 suffers from three compatibility problems. It doesn't mesh with the way many new business models are organizing what we do - because we're intrinsically motivated purpose maximizers, not only extrinsically motivated profit maximizers. It doesn't comport with the way that twenty-first-century economics thinks about what we do - because economists are finally realizing tht we're full-fledged human beings, not single-minded economic robots. And perhaps most important, it's hard to reconcile with much of what we actually do at work - because for growing numbers of people, work is often creative, interesting, and self-directed rather than routine, boring and other-directed. Taken together, these compatibility problems warn us that something's gone awry in our motivational operating system.

breaking things off, convinced that our partner’s psychological issues are making things impossible, or that we’re not as compatible as we’d believed. Either of these might conceivably be true in certain cases; people are sometimes guilty of spectacularly bad choices in love, and in other domains as well. But more often, the real problem is just that the other person is one other person. In other words, the cause of your difficulties isn’t that your partner is especially flawed, or that the two of you are especially incompatible, but that you’re finally noticing all the ways in which your partner is (inevitably) finite, and thus deeply disappointing by comparison with the world of your fantasy, where the limiting rules of reality don’t apply. The point that Bergson made about the future—that it’s more appealing than the present because you get to indulge in all your hopes for it, even if they contradict each other—is no less true of fantasy romantic partners, who can easily exhibit a range of characteristics that simply couldn’t coexist in one person in the real world. It’s common, for example, to enter a relationship unconsciously hoping that your partner will provide both an unlimited sense of stability and an unlimited sense of excitement—and then, when that’s not what transpires, to assume that the problem is your partner and that these qualities might coexist in someone else, whom you should therefore set off to find. The reality is that the demands are contradictory. The qualities that make someone a dependable source of excitement are generally the opposite of those that make him or her a dependable source of stability. Seeking both in one real human isn’t much less absurd than dreaming of a partner who’s both six and five feet tall. And not only should you settle; ideally, you should settle in a way that makes it harder to back out, such as moving in together, or getting married, or having a child. The great irony of all our efforts to avoid facing finitude—to carry on believing that it might be possible not to have to choose between mutually exclusive options—is that when people finally do choose, in a relatively irreversible way, they’re usually much happier as a result.

But it is easy to be angry with the father, the judge, and the friend. It is also fitting, up to a point. Yet it would be a mistake to view them as on a different plane of moral obtuseness, as opposed to merely being on the extreme end of a himpathetic spectrum on which many of us lie. Brock Turner's defenders exhibited forgiving tendencies, and spun exonerating narratives, that are all too commonly extended to men in his position. And such tendencies seem largely from capacities and qualities of which we're rarely critical: such as sympathy, empathy, trust in one's friends, devotion to one's children, and having as much faith in someone's good character as is compatible with the evidence. These are all important capacities and qualities, all else being equal. But they can have a downside, when all else is not equal: for example, when social inequality remains widespread. Their naive deployment will tend to further privilege those already unjustly privileged over others. And this may come at the expense of unfairly impugning, blaming, shaming, further endangering, and erasing the less privileged among their victims. In some cases, the perpetrators, knowing this, select their victims on this basis.

HARRIS: It’s worth emphasizing the connection between perception and action. It’s one thing to talk about it in the context of catching a cricket ball, but when you talk about the evolutionary logic of having developed perceptual capacities in the first place, the link to action becomes even more explicit. We haven’t evolved to perceive the world as it is for some abstract epistemological reason. We’ve evolved to perceive what’s biologically useful. And what’s biologically useful is always connected—at least when we’re talking about the outside world—to actions. If you can’t move, if you can’t act in any way, there would have been very little reason to evolve a capacity for sight, for instance. SETH: Absolutely. The sea squirt—a very simple marine creature—swims about during its juvenile phase looking for a place to settle, and once it settles and starts filter feeding, it digests its own brain, because it no longer has any need for perceptual or motor competence. This is often used as an unkind analogy for getting tenure in academia. But you’re absolutely right: perception is not about figuring out what’s really there. We perceive the world as it’s useful for us to do so. This is particularly important when we think about perception of the internal state of the body, which we mentioned earlier. Brains are not for perceiving the world as it is. They didn’t evolve for doing philosophy or complex language, they evolved to guide action. But even more fundamentally, brains evolved to keep themselves and their bodies alive. The most basic cycle of perception and action doesn’t involve the outside world or the exterior surfaces of the body at all. It’s all about regulating the internal physiology of the body and keeping it within bounds compatible with survival. This gives us a clue about why experiences of mood and emotion, and the basic experiences of selfhood, have a fundamentally nonobject-like character.

He shrugged. “When I was younger, I tried to make a good impression on dates. I’d take girls out dancing, bribe the bouncers to get us into trendy clubs, follow all the rules on the pickup artist sites. And one day about five years ago, I realized something: I suck at dancing, I hate trendy clubs, and the women who fall for the standard pickup techniques are airheads. So now I do stuff I like to do anyway. If my date doesn’t like it, then we’re probably not compatible anyway.

Hell, we’re already more compatible than Cory and I ever were.” “You mean she hasn’t tried to stave in your head with an ashtray or cut off your balls with a butcher knife?

hymn sheets; we’re not even the slightest bit compatible.

As you don't have a lover, Miss Darling, I'd like to offer my services. As I believe we've just proven, we're quite compatible.

We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love." ​- ​Robert Fulghum, American author

Every soul creates an echo. Like a fingerprint or signature that becomes infused in the things around us. Who we are. Where we belong. What we’re meant to bring to the world. No two echoes are alike. They are ours and ours alone. But they’re incomplete—one half of a perfect whole. Like a mirror without a reflection. And so each echo is constantly seeking its other half, to complete itself. That is what we look for in a reading, a sign that the lovers’ echoes are a match." Davis, Barbara. The Keeper of Happy Endings

I have a first date tomorrow with Sean.” She showed Rae the profile of a thirty-year-old who worked as a corporate-grade bond investor. “We’re the same age, once you adjust for gender,” Ellen explained. “Since women’s brains are three years more mature than their actual age and men’s brains are three years less mature.” Rae was intrigued by this numbers-based way to compare compatibility. “So you’re twenty-four but have the maturity of a twenty-seven-year-old? And he’s thirty but actually twenty-seven?” “Exactly,” Ellen said, looking pleased with her contribution to the science of modern love. “So stay away from anyone under twenty-eight. They’re still children.

Pursue a friendship with Jasper," he says, brushing a kiss against the corner of my lips. "Or more at your discretion. We don't own you, but don't be afraid to communicate openly and honestly. You needn't be ashamed or feel you have to keep secrets. We all understand the pull between compatible alphas and omegas. We're a perfect example. I'm quite fond of you, darling.

It’s the worst kept secret among the Talin. We’re sexually compatible with the humans,” Dinala explains

We’re showing them a world that cannot exist because it’s not compatible with the one they live in.

Aquarius,” she murmurs. “We’re both air signs.” Does that mean we’re compatible? I want to ask, but I’m not that stupid.

We’re both air signs.” Does that mean we’re compatible? I want to ask, but I’m not that stupid.

Judging by the barely perceptible pink tint painting his cheekbones and the way he’s pulled his lower lip into his mouth to gnaw on it, I’d say this exceptionally large man standing before me is currently playing shy. “Girlfriend?” He nods, scratching at his head. “Is that okay? I know I want to be with you. I know we’re compatible. I don’t need time to see if this will work, if I’m serious about you. I already know all that. I want you to be mine and I don’t want to share you with anyone else. The guys said we weren’t exclusive until we had this conversation and that you could date other people, but I don’t want that. I don’t want you with anyone else, only me. So be mine. Please.” My hand slides along the stubble lining his jaw. “How are you single?” “Because you’ve been playing hard to get for the last seven weeks, give or take.

I can acknowledge that I like him while also being practical enough to know it won’t work out. That’s what dating is for, to see if you’re compatible. We’re not.

the threat today is not western religions, but psychology and consumerism. is the Dharma becoming another psychotherapy, another commodity to be bought and sold? will western Buddhism become all too compatible with our individualistic consumption patterns, with expensive retreats and initiations, catering to overstressed converts, eager to pursue their own enlightenment? let’s hope not, because Buddhism and the west need each other. despite its economic and technologic dynamism, western civilisation and its globalisation are in trouble, which means all of us are in trouble. the most obvious example is our inability to respond to accelerating climate change, as seriously as it requires. if humanity is to survive and thrive over the next few centuries, there is no need to go on at length here about the other social and ecological crisis that confront us now, which are increasingly difficult to ignore [many of those are considered in the following chapters]. it’s also becoming harder to overlook the fact that the political and economic systems we’re so proud of seem unable to address these problems. one must ask, is that because they themselves are the problem? part of the problem is leadership, or the lack of it, but we can’t simply blame our rulers. it’s not only the lack of a moral core of those who rise to the top, or the institutional defamations that massage their rise, economical and political elites, and there’s not much difference between them anymore. like the rest of us, they are in need of a new vision of possibility, what it means to be human, why we tend to get into trouble, and how we can get out go it, those who benefit the most from the present social arrangements may think of themselves as hardheaded realists, but as self-conscious human beings, we remain motivated by some such vision, weather we’re aware of it or not, as why we love war, points out. even secular modernity is based on a spiritual worldview, unfortunately a deficient one, from a Buddhist perspective.

Will you marry me, Genevieve?” He kissed her cheek while Jenny flailed about for a response, any response at all. “The paint fumes are affecting you, Elijah, or you’ve spent too much time imbibing His Grace’s wassail.” “You affect me. I paint better when you’re near, and I was warned about His Grace’s wassail—or Her Grace’s—by the regent himself. Marry me.” She wanted to say yes, even if this declaration was not made out of an excess of romantic love. “If I marry you, I cannot go to Paris.” He leaned back, resting his head against the stones behind them, closing his eyes. “I’ll take you to bloody Paris, and you can appreciate for yourself that the cats have ruined the place. Rome isn’t much better, though I suppose you’ll want to go there and sniff it for yourself too.” He’d promise to take her there, probably to Moscow as well if she asked. “Babies put rather a cramp in one’s travel plans.” Because if she were married to him, and Windham proclivities ran true, babies would follow in the near, middle, and far terms, and all hope of painting professionally would be as dead as her late brothers. “Your siblings all managed to travel with babies. What’s the real reason, Genevieve? We’re compatible in the ways that count, and you’re dying on the vine here, trying to be your parents’ devoted spinster daughter. Marry me.” He was tired, and he felt sorry for her. Of those things, Jenny was certain, but not much else. She hadn’t foreseen an offer from him that would ambush her best intentions and be so bewilderingly hard to refuse. “You need to go home, Elijah. I need to go to Paris. Painting with you has only made me more certain of that. If I capitulate to your proposal, I will regret it for the rest of my days, and you will too. You feel sorry for me, and while I appreciate your sentiments, in Paris I will not be an object of pity.

He moved fractionally closer. As he did, she noticed that her hand was still held inside his. She tugged lightly to free herself. He didn't let go. "Lord Northcote." "Lady Esme," he said, the faintest trace of mocking amusement in his voice. "You may release me now." "Oh, I will. After we've sealed our bargain." "What do you mean by that? I've already consented to marry you." "Indeed, but aren't you the least bit curious to see if we're compatible?" An electrical charge, rather like one of her brother Drake's experiments, surged through her as Northcote wrapped his free arm around her waist and tugged her to him.

So far, we are the only two humans who seem to be compatible with werewolves,” she said, still smiling in welcome. My hope sank.  So we were human and...wait, what?  “Compatible?”  I looked at Sam in confusion.  I knew that I smelled differently to werewolves, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about compatibility.  Charlene answered before he could. “Yes, werewolves choose their Mate—husband or wife—instinctually.  They have no history of ever before selecting from humans for their Mates, but here we are.  Whatever it takes to become a Mate, we apparently have it, too.” My mouth popped open in shock as I understood.  I turned on Sam. “You brought me here to hook up with a werewolf?” “No, Gabby.  I apologize for upsetting you,” Charlene said from behind me.  I turned to look at her.  “Yes, we’re different in that a werewolf might choose us, but that doesn’t mean that they must choose us or that we have to choose them.  At your age, there will be no hooking up.” She

We won’t know if we’re compatible unless we have sex.” How many people do you know who waited until marriage to have sex and then “weren’t compatible” sexually? Sexual compatibility is a myth, because it’s based on selfish desires and comparison. You will be sexually compatible with someone you love deeply. That’s how it’s designed to work.

Tony: Listen... I need to... Um... Say... I mean... I know we only met earlier... And I know I nearly set you on fire... And we're both going out with other people. Obviously that's quite tricky. But... Well... You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on in my entire life. I saw you and my heart leapt. You make me want to change my life. To... participate. I know it's not possible and that you have a boyfriend and we're not compatible or whatever but... I just... I know it's stupid... But maybe just hear me out for a second and the. You can tell me I'm an idiot and we'll both go back in and pretend this never happened but... I want to travel the world with you. I want to bring the ice cold Amstel to your Greek shore. And sit in silence and sip with you. I want to go to Tesco's with you of a Sunday. Watch you sleep, scrub your back, suck your toes. I want to write crap poetry about you, lay my coat over puddles for you. I want to get drunk and bore my friends about you, I want them to phone up and moan about how little they see me because I'm spending so much time with you. I want to feel the tingle of our lips meeting, the lock of our eyes joining, the fizz of our fingertips touching. I want to touch your fat tummy and tell you you look gorgeous in maternity dresses, I want to stand next to you wide-eyed and hold my nose as we open that first used nappy, I want to watch you grow old and love you more and more each day. I want to fall in love with you. I think I could. And I think it would be good. And I want you to say yes. You might feel the same. Could you? Maybe?

Today's religious freedom threats come from a shifts in our prevailing culture. For much of American history, common Christian beliefs (or at least Protestant beliefs) were largely compatible with the prevailing culture. There was nothing remarkable about believing that Christianity is true, that all other religions are false, that abortion is wrong, or that marriage is to be only between a man and a woman. Not everyone agreed with those beliefs, but they didn't provoke hostility. hey weren't viewed as a threat to the dominant culture. Now our culture has changed. For the first time in American history, common Christian beliefs are viewed as incompatible with the prevailing culture. Like other religious minorities before us, we're viewed as a threat. So religious freedom for Christians is under pressure like never before.

attack can save your marriage. On the subject of compatibility, I often wonder sometimes, too, if maybe those seventeen years that separate me from Felipe work to our advantage. He always insists that he’s a far better partner to me now than he ever could have been to anybody twenty years ago, and I certainly appreciate (and need) his maturity. Or maybe we’re just extra careful with each other because the age difference stands as a reminder of our relationship’s innate mortality.

I don’t think you can help,” he said, turning away from her and heading for the kitchen. She followed him. “You don’t really know, though, do you? Until you run it by me?” “It’s kind of embarrassing,” he said, not facing her. “For God’s sake, I look at cracks and talk about sex for a living. You can’t embarrass me.” He turned around. “I was thinking it would be embarrassing for me.” “Well, get over it. I’m your midwife.” He took a deep breath. “Abby and I are getting along very well. It’s incredible. Better than I thought it could be. We’re so compatible. And last night I slept beside her, holding her and the babies….” He dropped his chin. “Aw,” Mel said. “That’s sweet. I’m so happy, Cam.” “And woke up with my hand up her shirt and with the biggest hard-on.” Mel looked momentarily perplexed. “I’m sorry. Did I need to know that?” “I can’t believe how much just being near her is getting to me. I can’t let her think that—I mean, I let her think it would be completely safe for me to just lie beside her and… Aw, Christ. I have no control at all. What a damn mess.” “Cameron, take it easy. Most of that’s just nature. Huh? It happens all night long. I’m sure Abby knows that.” “It’s not just happening when I’m asleep. I really have a problem here. I’ve wanted that woman since the first second I saw her, but she’s in no condition for me to want her like that. What kind of man wants to… I mean, I won’t touch her, I swear I won’t. But if she thinks she’s not safe from my instincts, then I’ll be sent back up to the loft. And I don’t want to go back up to the loft!” He took a breath, shook his head dismally. “I should probably go back up to the loft.” Mel’s

Willow. We’re meant to be together. Call it fate or instinct or compatibility. Whatever it is, I know in my gut, in my soul, that I have to be with you. I don’t want anything to get in the way of that pure, clear connection that we share. Not money, not work, not my bear’s growling. Nothing. I just want you and me. Together. And unbreakable.