I have something I need to tell you, " he says. I run my fingers along the tendons in his hands and look back at him. "I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you,...
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Veronica Roth
I love you like a fat kid loves cake!
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Scott Adams
Love can change a person the way a parent can change a baby- awkwardly, and often with a great deal of mess.
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Lemony Snicket
When God Created Mothers"When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared and said. "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one." And God said, "Have you read the specs on this order?"...
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Erma Bombeck
And next time you're planning to injure yourself to get me attention, just remember that a little sweet talk works wonders.
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Cassandra Clare
More Quotes By Dennis Lehane
We all know who you are, Mr. Coughlin. Famous Yankee gangster. Friend of the colonel. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>It would be safer for a man to swim into the middle of the ocean and cut his own throat than to threaten you.' He solemnly made the...
Happiness doesn't lie in conspicuous consumption and the relentless amassing of useless crap. Happiness lies in the person sitting beside you and your ability to talk to them. Happiness is clear-headed human interaction and empathy. Happiness is home. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>And home is not a...
And often the worst thing wasn't the victims--they were dead, after all, and beyond any more pain. The worst thing was those who loved them and survived them. Often the walking dead from now on, shell-shocked, hearts ruptured, stumbling through the remainder of their lives...
I believe in God. Maybe not the Catholic God or even the Christian one because I have a hard time seeing any God as elitist. I also have a hard time believing that anything that created rain forests and oceans and an infinite universe would,...
Some ghost of myself still lived back in the days when we'd shared a bed and talked of the future. But that love we'd had and those selves we'd been were gone, placed in a box like old photographs and letters you'd never read again.
