His Other Girl Famous Quotes & Sayings
100 His Other Girl Famous Sayings, Quotes and Quotation.
The fiery tickle of outrage burned up her throat. "How the hell would you know that when you never gave me a chance?"— Airicka Phoenix
Something dark and scorching flickered behind his eyes. "Because no other girl has ever made me want to forget all my own rules for them.
And then I'm dancing, swept away by the music and the magic and Ryn's arms guiding me. We spin graceful circles around the floor. Ryn lets go of me and I twirl beneath his arm, laughing at the same time. It is so not me, and yet I find I'm actually enjoying it.— Rachel Morgan
"See?" Ryn says, "This is easy. And you might possibly be having fun."
The magic guides me as I step out of Ryn's arms, twirl behind his back, and catch his hand. "You might possibly be right."
He pulls me back into position. "Oh, I forgot to tell you something," he says. He leans forward and his lips brush my ear as he whispers, "You are more beautiful than any other girl in this room.
The girl looked older than Cath. Even with her eyes closed. Levi's other hand was tangled in her long, blond hair, and he was kissing her with his mouth smiling and open. He made it look so easy.— Rainbow Rowell
So ... Now that we got that over with, let's get back to love at first sight, Evan said.— Zack Love
Not infatuation at first sight ... Love. With a capital L, he clarified.
Love? Heeb asked, playfully pretending not to know the concept.
Yeah. The real thing. The conviction that if you had this one woman, all other women would become irrelevant. You'd never again be unhappy And you'd give up anything to have her and keep her.
You've experienced that?
Only once. And I haven't stopped thinking about it ever since.
Tell me more.
Sometimes I think that I still chase women just to forget about her. Because I know I can never have her. But I can't seem to forget about her, no matter what girl I'm chasing ... No one can possibly compare ...
Who is she?
Delilah, Evan said wistfully.
Delilah?, asked Heeb, intrigued
Delilah Nakova, Evan replied, with a hint of awe and reverence in his voice.
In my experience, there were two kinds of men. One type - no matter how plain or how poor he might be - is always willing to at least try his luck with an attractive girl. The other type looks upon all of those first types with envy.— Therese Anne Fowler
I think we're all better off with you chained up - just not here."— Holly Black
"Are you sure?" Aidan asked. "Gavriel's still a vampire."
"He warned me about you and about them. He didn't have to. I'm not going to repay that by - " She hesitated, then frowned. "What did you call him?"
"That's his name." Aidan sighed. "Gavriel. The other vampires, while they were tying me to the bed, they said his name."
"Oh." With a final tug she pulled the blanket free and tossed it over to Gavriel.
I don't want any other girl." He shook his head and took a step closer, cupping my face in his hands. "I belong with you and you belong with me.— Magan Vernon
If it hadn't been for this chance hospital encounter, accidental in all senses, Victor might never have courted a girl. He already felt well on his way to middle age, and his social life was still limited to the chess club. Victor didn't really feel the need for another person in his life, in fact he found the concept of "sharing" a life bizarre. He had mathematics, which filled up his time almost completely, so he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted with a wife. Women seemed to him to be in possession of all kinds of undesirable properties, chiefly madness, but also a multiplicity of physical drawbacks - blood, sex, children - which were unsettling and other.— Kate Atkinson
I think all of us felt," I said, "at least once in our lives, when we were young, we could go over there, after reading the bull stuff in the Spanish stories, that we could go over there and fight. Or at least jog ahead of the running of the bulls, in the early morning, with a good drink waiting at the other end of the run, and your best girl with you there for the long weekend." I stopped. I laughed quietly. For my voice had, without knowing, fallen into the rhythm of his way of saying, either out of his mouth, or from his hand.— Ray Bradbury
He shook his head at her question. Did women really think men cared about that stuff? Did he care if she did this all the time? Definitely, definitely not. He could honestly say he did not give a flying fuck whether this girl dragged guys home every other day to have her way with them for seven hours. He was just glad as hell she'd decided to do it with him. Today. And hopefully maybe again. Sometime.— Ros Baxter
I can't believe you'd rather hold handle bars than a girl."— Rachel Hawthorne
He angled his head thoughtfully."I hadn't considered that."
"Maybe you should."
He hopped over,gingerly swinging his bad leg over to the other side and settled down behind me on the seat.
"You got rules on how I can hold you?"
"Nothing distracting while I'm driving," I tossed over my shoulder, meeting his gaze."We don't need another accident."
"And when you're not driving?"
"The Kate-have-a-good-time fund is getting low.Maybe you should think about making a deposit.
A youth with his first cigar makes himself sick; a youth with his first girl makes other people sick.— Mary Wilson Little
And I saw just the other day, in Mentor, Ohio, where a father told the story of his 8-year-old daughter, whose long battle with leukemia nearly cost their family everything had it not been for the health care reform passing just a few months before the insurance company was about to stop paying for her care.— Barack Obama
I had an opportunity to not just talk to the father, but meet this incredible daughter of his. And when he spoke to the crowd listening to that father's story, every parent in that room had tears in their eyes, because we knew that little girl could be our own.
Loving You— Lang Leav
I saw him the other day. His arms around another girl, his eyes when met with mine - were low in their recognition.
I wonder if he remembers what I once told him.
I will love you forever.
He had smiled at me sadly before giving his reply.
But I am so afraid you may one day stop.
Now all these years later, I am the one who is afraid. Because I love him, I still do. I haven't stopped, I don't think I can. I don't think I ever will.
I'll feel better when Trent gets his punk ass here."— Jamie McGuire
"I'm here, you whiny little girl," Trent said in a hushed voice. I could barely see his outline in the darkness, but his smile gleamed in the moonlight.
"How ya been, sis?" he said. He hugged me with one arm, and then playfully shoved Travis with the other.
You have a teacher talking about his gayness. (The elementary school student) goes home then and says "Mom! What's gayness? We had a teacher talking about this today." The mother says "Well, that's when a man likes other men, and they don't like girls." The boy's eight. He's thinking, "Hmm. I don't like girls. I like boys. Maybe I'm gay." And you think, "Oh, that's, that's way out there. The kid isn't gonna think that." Are you kidding? That happens all the time. You don't think that this is intentional, the message that's being given to these kids? That's child abuse.— Michele Bachmann
I do, and the now-familiar warmth of his lips steadies me. He tastes of salt and the wine we shared with the others at our small farewell party.— Jessica Khoury
Aladdin pulls away first and lifts one of my hands to his lips, kissing the delicate henna patterns on my skin, then turning my arm over to kiss the inside of my wrist. The ship's crew makes themselves busy on the other side of the ship, giving us privacy.
"You're the most beautiful girl in the world," Aladdin murmurs. "Have I ever told you that?"
"Enough to make me wonder if your father was a parrot.
He'll pinch a cigarette between his fingers. He'll take a drag, blow that drag between his lips. He'll look at the firl with eyes the colour of the sky before it turns black and he will see heaven, and the pictures of all those other girls floating inside his head will blow away like the clouds of the cigarette and he'll see only the girl inside himself and the world will stop.— Maureen Medved
He must make sure that he has found the girl of his choice, they have gone together long enough that they know each other, and that they know each other's faults and they still love each other. ... Brethren, think more seriously about the obligations of marriage for those who bear the holy priesthood at a time when marriage should be the expectation of every man who understands [his] responsibility.— Harold B. Lee
The wounded child inside many males is a boy who, when he first spoke his truths, was silenced by paternal sadism, by a patriarchal world that did not want him to claim his true feelings. The wounded child inside many females is a girl who was taught from early childhood that she must become something other than herself, deny her true feelings, in order to attract and please others. When men and women punish each other for truth telling, we reinforce the notion that lies are better. To be loving we willingly hear the other's truth, and most important, we affirm the value of truth telling. Lies may make people feel better, but they do not help them to know love.— Bell Hooks
I always resented Tom [Hardy] for turning up on Band Of Brothers and getting the girl - in fact, the only girl in a cast of hundreds of smelly men! I, on the other hand, spent eight months with my face squashed up against someone else's backside in one sodden trench after another. And it looks as if Tom might have got the girl again [in Colditz], damn his eyes.— Damian Lewis
![His Other Girl Sayings By Damian Lewis: I always resented Tom [Hardy] for turning up on Band Of Brothers and getting the](https://www.greatsayings.net/images/his-other-girl-sayings-by-damian-lewis-896800.jpg "His Other Girl Sayings By Damian Lewis: I always resented Tom [Hardy] for turning up on Band Of Brothers and getting the")
I said, "Pretty." "Yes. She is." "You had to be seeing her, when, before you knew me?" His eyes never left the picture. "I knew you, but I was still on the job." I remember Joe dating back then, but the relationships seemed as they were now, none more important than any other. "I guess you were tight with this girl." Joe nodded. "So what happened?" Pike handed back the picture. "I broke her heart." "Oh." Sometimes prying is a lousy idea.— Robert Crais
Trouble is, finding a girl is still a tricky situation, like choosing a hat." He flips off his hat and sweeps a finger along the edge of the brim. "Like, maybe you've had your eye on a fine-looking French number, but when it finally falls onto your head, it loses its appeal... Or maybe you've been told all your life that bison felts are the only hats worth wearing. And when something different comes along, say alligator suede, even though it's the most worthy thing you've seen in your life, you might leave it in the window"--he taps his chin--"until you realize no other hat will fit just right.— Stacey Lee
What about the other girl with you - Forra? Why is she with you?"— Kelly R. Michaels
"I saved her from execution. She is very vocal about her dislike of the king."
"Then why did you save her?" Garvanna asked.
Caelfel's expression hardened. "Because the king is wrong, and she is right. King Orrik wouldn't even save his own son.
While she strode rapidly through the ward to the door at the other end, she was able to see that every bed or cot held an infant or a small child in whom the human template had been wrenched out of pattern, sometimes horribly, sometimes slightly. A baby like a comma, great lolling head on a stalk of a body... then something like a stick insect, enormous bulging eyes among stiff fragilities that were limbs... a small girl all blurred, her flesh guttering and melting - a doll with chalky swollen limbs, its eyes wide and blank, like blue ponds, and its mouth open, showing a swollen little tongue. A lanky boy was skewed, one half of his body sliding from the other. A child seemed at first glance normal, but then Harriet saw there was no back to its head; it was all face, which seemed to scream at her.— Doris Lessing
I think there must have been some other girl printed somewhere in his heart, for he was a man of love and his wife was not a woman to show her feelings.— John Steinbeck
Leonardo's twenty-six-year-old father, Ser Piero, was (as his honorary title implied) a notary: someone who wrote wills, contracts, and other commercial and legal correspondence. The family had produced notaries for at least five generations, but with Leonardo the chain was to snap. He was, as his grandfather's tax return stated a few years later, "non legittimo" - born out of wedlock - and as such he (along with criminals and priests) was barred from membership in the Guild of Judges and Notaries. Leonardo's mother was a sixteen-year-old girl named Caterina, and an apparent difference in their social status meant she and Piero, a bright and ambitious young man, did not marry. Almost— Ross King
The vice minister sets down The Principles of Mechanics and pushes it away, then glances at his palms as though it has made them dirty. He says, "The only place your brother is going, little girl, is into the mines. As soon as he turns fifteen. Same as every other boy in this house.— Anthony Doerr
Madge did the honors. "Are you ... keeping company with Doc Piney?"— Pamela Morsi
Jesse answered carefully. "We are not dating, but we are seeing a lot of each other." Factually true. Revealing nothing.
The three women sat silently for a long moment, sharing glances with each other.
"You know he has a sad history," Walter Lou said finally.
"Of course she knows," Madge said immediately.
"Everybody knows. The question is are you planning on breaking that man's heart again?"
The suggestion was not at all what Jesse expected.
She stuttered out an answer.
"I ... I don't ... I don't think Piney knows me well enough to get his heart broken," she managed finally.
"Oh, Lord, girl," Madge said. "He's a Baxley. A more lovelorn line of men never graced the earth."
"That's the truth of that," Walter Lou agreed. "Those men dote on their women something fierce.
And then what are your plans?"— G.A. Aiken
Annwyl frowned. "My plans?"
"Yes. Your plans. You take your brother's head, your troops are waiting. What is the next thing that you do?"
Annwyl just stared at him. He realized in that instant that the girl had no plans. None. No grand schemes of controlling the world. No plots to destroy any other empires. Not even the plan to have a celebratory dinner.
"Annwyl, you'll be queen. You'll have to do something."
"But I don't want to be queen." Her body shook with panic, and he could hear it in her voice.
"You take his head, you'll have little choice."
"What the hell am I supposed to do as queen?"
"Well .you could try ruling."
"That sounds awfully complicated.
You don't like me talking to other girls?"— Kersten Hamilton
"I don't like you grinning at them."Teagan admitted
"Then tame me with your fine Irish eyes, girl."
"Humph."
"You have nothing to worry about. You've had my heart since ... "
"When?"
"I was just trying to sort it, " Fin said. "It could have been the time you explained how its cockles were related to a shellfish." he paused. "No, it was when you flat refused to kiss me
and me thinking I'd never see you agina, risking my kife to lead the goblins away into the night. It was heroic. And sad."
Teagan punched his arm.
"All right." He smiled. "It was the first time I set eyes on you. My heart stopped beating, and that's a fact."
"I know," Teagan said. "The first time I met you, it made me throw up."
Finn knit his brows. "I'll never get over how romantic you are. It's like you've stepped right out of one of those fairy movies Aiden's making Roisin watch.
How can she stand up there so tall as she's telling us how her mother beat her and her father molested her when she was a little girl? How is it possible for her to look so proud? How is she not being consumed by shame? She should be disintegrating before our eyes. She should be struck by lightning, and God's big, angry, booming voice should be shaking the room with "How dare you? I told you never to tell." But that's not her God, she says. Her God is loving and kind and wants what's best for her. Her God loves peace and serenity and forgiveness. Her God doesn't make her keep secrets. I thought I knew God all my life, but maybe it was some other guy the whole time. I want this God. I want Val's God. I want a God who doesn't make me jump through hoops and hate myself to earn his love.— Amy Reed
Charlie followed where they were looking and stopped dead in her tracks. Other people walked around her, grumbling and grouchy. She was bumped several times and none of it mattered. Because past the row of seats in the center aisle, right there at her gate, stood Cole, holding a sign with a rainbow on it that said "Charlie".— Jennifer Kacey
His handsome face sported a charming smile, which made her laugh and start crying like a total girl.
There you have it. We go in General Celchu's shuttle."— Troy Denning
"Much as I personally want you to succeed in this, I sort of have to say no. Duty and officer's oaths and all that. You understand."
"Oh, that's right." Luke turned to Wedge. "Could I trouble you to set your blaster on stun and point it at the other general?"
"No, not really."
"Please?"
Wedge sighed. "I'm not going to point a blaster at my best friend. Plus, his pilot will be obliged to jump in the way or do something equally noble and foolish. I'm not going to point a blaster at my little girl."
"Thank you, Daddy.
Tessa had lain down beside him and slid her arm beneath his head, and put her head on his chest,listening to the ever-weakening beat of his heart. And in the shadows they'd whispered, reminding each other of the stories only they knew. Of the girl who had hit over the head with a water jug the boy who had come to rescue her, and how he had fallen in love with her in that instant. Of a ballroom and a balcony and the moon sailing like a ship untethered through the sky. Of the flutter of the wings of the clockwork Angel. Of holy water and blood.— Cassandra Clare
Victor wrapped his fingers over my hand, pressing his face against my palm. "You're the bravest girl I've ever met. I'm so incredibly proud of you."— A.B. Whelan
"Who knew that one day the word someone would use to describe me is brave. Life is very unpredictable." I chuckled.
"There are many other words I could think of to describe you but I'm not really good at flattery.
I miss being a mistress. I enjoyed it. I loved it, in fact. I never felt guilty. I pretended I did. I had to, with my married girlfriends, the ones who live in terror of the pert au pair or the pretty, funny girl in the office who can talk about football and spends half her life in the gym. I had to tell them that of course I felt terrible about it, of course I felt bad for his wife, I never meant for any of this to happen, we fell in love, what could we do? The truth is, I never felt bad for Rachel.... She just wasn't real to me, and anyway, I was enjoying myself too much. Being the other woman is a huge turn-on, there's no point denying it: you're the one he can't help but betray his wife for, even though he loves her. That's just how irresistible you are.— Paula Hawkins
They closed the door on the cabin. There wasn't room enough for them to stand, so they fell into each other's arms on the bunk.— Michael Grant
Sam kissed her and tried not to think that it was for the last time.
He was happy. That was the hell of it. He was finally happy. Right here, right now, in this place, with this girl in his arms, he was happy. Was that why he felt the hammer about to fall on him? No, that was crazy. He was happy. Happiness didn't mean that tragedy was coming around the corner. Did it?
What I mean is that those thoughts, they're human. And just because you turn out differently than everyone's imagined you would doesn't mean that you've failed in some way. A kid who gets teased in one school might move to a different one, and be the most popular girl there, just because no one has any other expectations of her. Or a person who goes to med school because his entire family is full of doctors might find out that what he really wants to be is an artist instead.— Jodi Picoult
He laughs again. "You're different, Caymen."— Kasie West
"Different than what?"
"Than any other girl I've met."
Considering most of the girls he'd met probably had fifty times as much money as I did, that wasn't a hard feat to accomplish. Thinking about that makes my eyes sting.
"It's refreshing. You make me feel normal."
"Huh. I better work on that because you're far from normal."
He smiles and pushes my shoulder playfully. My heart slams into my ribs. "Caymen."
I take another handful of dirt and smash it against his neck then try to make a quick escape. He grabs me from behind, and I see his hand, full of dirt, coming toward my face when the warning beeps of the tractor start up.
"Saved by the gravediggers," he says.
So odd. Most women of his acquaintance relied on physical beauty and charm to mask their less-pleasant traits. This girl did the opposite, hiding everything interesting about herself behind a prim, plain facade.— Tessa Dare
What other surprises was she concealing?
At one stopover on the train journey home, Hans told his sister Inge later, he saw a young girl with the Star of David on her breast; she was repairing tracks on the line, along with other people with yellow badges on their clothes. Her face was pallid, sunken in; her eyes, beyond grief and terror. Impulsively, Hans thrust his rations in her hand. She looked up at him, then at his uniform. She threw the packet of food to the ground.— Jud Newborn
He scooped it up, wiped off the dust, and picked a daisy growing by the side of the tracks. He placed the package, with the daisy on top, at her feet. He said, "I would have liked to give you a little pleasure." He boarded the train.
When he looked back, the girl was standing there, watching the train disappear, the flower in her hair.
She could feel the press of Kaz's fingers against her skin, feel the bird'swing brush of his mouth against her neck, see his dilated eyes. Two of the deadliest people the Barrel had to offer and they could barely touch each other without both of them keeling over. But they'd tried. He'd tried. Maybe they could try again. A foolish wish, the sentimental hope of a girl who hadn't had the firsts of her life stolen, who hadn't ever felt Tante Heleen's lash, who wasn't covered in wounds and wanted by the law. Kaz would have laughed at her optimism.— Leigh Bardugo
She is shocked by the rows of thick Plexiglas windows, each equipped with a telephone, each with a prisoner on one side and an outsider on the other. There is a teenage girl chatting with a prisoner who is presumably her father. There's a married couple talking to their daughter. There's a woman with a baby in her arms, sobbing into her phone as she begs her husband not to plead guilty for his crimes. Jail is terrifying to Geraldine, not only because it's a house of criminals but also because it's a cold slap in the face, a reminder of where she will eventually end up. "You've got to stay with me the whole time, Callo! I'm serious, you CANNOT leave me here."— Rebecca McNutt
"I'll never," Callo vows, but he's eyeing her strangely. "Just remember which side of the glass you're on right now, Geraldine.
The day my father came to claim me, my mother did not wish for me to go. 'She is a girl,' she said, 'and I do not think that she is yours. I had a thousand other men.' He tossed his spear at my feet and gave my mother the back of his hand across the face, so she began to weep. 'Girl or boy, we fight our battles,' he said, 'but the gods let us choose our weapons.' He pointed to the spear, then to my mother's tears, and I picked up the spear.— George R R Martin
Her problem was that she could not interpret her own feelings for him. Not since before reaching puberty had she lowered her guard to let another person get so close as she had with him. To be quite honest, he had a trying ability to penetrate her defences and to get her to talk about personal matters and private feelings. Even though she had enough sense to ignore most of his questions, she talked about herself in a way that she would never, even under the threat of death, have imagined doing with any other person. It frightened her and made her feel naked and vulnerable to his will.— Stieg Larsson
Right now, baby girl, we have each other. But I want more. I know I don't have to prove anything to you. I know I don't. But I want this union, this bond, this marriage of you and I. I want to show you how devoted I am to you. I need you beside me. You allow me to live, to breath, and to survive. I am not afraid to admit it. I want you to be mine for all of what is forever. Again, will you be my wife?" he asked as his wet eyes sparkled.— Scott Hildreth
I was greeted by the Ulmers' eleven-year-old daughter, a girl of remarkable poise. Mrs. Ulmer was busily typing a manuscript that needed to make the evening mail and after welcoming me, in a very friendly manner, she returned to work. There were two other children and Mr. Ulmer, who was writing the manuscript just as his wife was typing it. The youngest child, who could have been no more than five or six, had the task of relaying the handwritten pages from his father to his eldest sister, who would quickly scan them for errors, and from her to his mother. The middle child, a little girl of seven or eight, lay on the floor with a large dictionary and would look up words when called upon by her parents or sister.— Robert Bruce Stewart
"Watching my back? Like you watched Chloe's with those gangbangers?"— Kelley Armstrong
"That was a mistake. I was running and I thought she was right behind me."
"Did you check?"
"What?"
"Did you check?" he repeated. "One glance over your shoulder to make sure she was still there?"
I didn't answer.
He shook his head. "I'm not accusing you of letting that girl grab Chloe so you could get away. I'm not accusing you of seeing her in trouble and deciding to do nothing about it. I know you didn't look back. You never thought of it."
"I was scared, okay? You want me to admit that? Fine."
"Chloe would have looked back for you."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course she would. Because Chloe is good and perfect."
"No, because she thinks of others. I would have looked back, too, if you were behind me. Even Derek would have. Why? Because we're a team now. We need to have each other's backs. No matter what.
How long you and Vee been seeing each other?" Shane asked as he stood up. "About a month," I shrugged. "That question earlier about falling in love? The one about how long it takes?" Shane said over his right shoulder as he pulled his hood over his head. "Yeah?" I responded. "Takes about a month, bro," he said as he slapped my shoulder. As we approached our bikes, I pulled my key from my pocket. A month, huh? Well, it's just about time I get that girl a pair of Chuck's.— Scott Hildreth
God made me a girl. And He did that on purpose. But He asks me to become the kind of girl who is actually useful to His kingdom purposes. I need to become the sort of girl who is unafraid to poke my head into the battle of the ages and cry out, "Who is this uncircumcised Philistine who is blaspheming the armies of the living God?" God wants me to wrestle. God wants to stick grit in my girliness. He wants me to be prepared to tangle, to interlock my soul in this eternal combat - - not with other girls, not with sweaty boys, but with Him, and with the otherworldly powers of darkness. He wants me to wrestle in prayer, to grab ahold of His great and precious promises and fight to see them unfurled in living reality on this Earth.— Leslie Ludy
She stood up and took the book from him, and as he smiled over his shoulder at some other kids, she threw it away and kicked him as hard as she could in the vicinity of the groin.— Markus Zusak
Well, as you might imagine, Ludwig Schmeikl certainly buckled, and on the way down, he was punched in the ear. When he landed, he was set upon. When he was set upon, he was slapped and clawed and obliterated by a girl who was utterly consumed with rage. His skin was so warm and soft. Her knuckles and fingernails were so frighteningly tough, despite their smallness.
You Saukerl." Her voice, too, was able to scratch him. "You Arschloch. Can you spell Arschloch for me?
Cup check, she heard Bradley Grayson, an arrogant freshman lacrosse player, yell as he slammed his forearm, without warning, into Sam Wolfe's groin.— Tonya Hurley
Sam, naked, bent over and clutched himself, thrusting his large, pale, Sasquatch-like hairy, pimply ass right in her face.
This was every girl's greatest fear come to life. The Gates of Hell had opened. She would never, she thought, be allowed to enjoy a moment's pleasure without an eternity of pain in exchange. For little Damen, she'd have to endure a LOT of Sam. The metaphor was not lost of Charlotte.
And it got worse. As Same clenched, a tiny involuntary puff of sulfurous gas escaped. For the first time ever, she was glad to be dead, for no other reason than his butt smelled as bad as it looked ... Was it even possible to die twice?
Luce," Jude said, unfurling the blanket cinched around me, grabbing my hands when he pulled them free, "you're my girl. The girl." To join the other emotions flashing over over his face, a trace of pain did as well. "When I look at Adriana, or any other girl for that matter, that's all I see. Some other girl who isn't my girl. I don't see them, Luce. I see you," he continued, his skin lining between his brows. "I've only ever seen you.— Nicole Williams
In his Petersburg world people were divided into two quite opposite sorts. One— Leo Tolstoy
the inferior sort: the paltry, stupid, and, above all, ridiculous people who believe that a husband should live with the one wife to whom he is married, that a girl should be pure, a woman modest, and a man, manly, self controlled and firm; that one should bring up one's children to earn their living, should pay one's debts, and other nonsense of the kind. These were the old-fashioned and ridiculous people. But there was another sort of people: the real people to which all his set belonged, who had above all to be well-bred, generous, bold, gay, and to abandon themselves unblushingly to all their passions and laugh at everything else.
The dog looked nothing like the lonely mongrel in her stories. The bedraggled golden retriever halted where the bungalow walkway met the public sidewalk. Girl and beast regarded each other. She called to him, "Here, boy, here." He needed to be coaxed, but eventually he approached the porch and climbed the steps. Bibi stooped to his level to peer into his eyes, which were as golden as his coat. "You stink." The retriever yawned, as if his stinkiness was old news to him. He— Dean Koontz
Why do you insist on calling me Jocelyn?" I made sure my tone wasn't argumentative, just curious. Because I was curious.— Samantha Young
His lips touched mine, soft, gentle, and he pulled back, those pale blue eyes of his bright with heat. "Joss is a girl's name. Possibly a tomboy's name." He smirked. "Jocelyn, on the other hand, is a woman's name. A really sexy woman's name." He pulled back."So strip Jocelyn."
Okay. He could call me Jocelyn.
There is no girl we are not always already making into a woman from the moment she is born - making a city in the dirt next to the boot of a man. It could be rage or love in his feet. The girl could be me or any other girl.— Lidia Yuknavitch
you're not just a pickpocket with fast hands." Rieker's eyes locked on hers. "I found a girl caring for other orphans like a mother. A girl who'd befriended an old bookshop keeper who had lost his only daughter. A girl who can read and is helping others learn to read." His voice softened. "And a girl so beautiful at times, you take my breath away.— Kiki Hamilton
Good-bye, Mrs Bartholemew," said tom, shaking hands with stiff politeness; "and thank you very much for having me."— Philippa Pearce
"I shall look forward to our meeting again," said Mrs Bartholemew, equally primly.
Tom went slowly down the attic stairs. Then, at the bottom, he hesitated: he turned impulsively and ran up again - two at a time - to where Hatty Bartholemew still stood ...
Afterwards, Aunt Gwen tried to describe to her husband that second parting between them. "He ran up to her, and they hugged each other as if they had known each other for years and years, instead of only having met for the first time this morning. There was something else, too, Alan, although I know you'll say it sounds even more absurd ... Of course, Mrs Bartholemew's such a shrunken little old woman, she's hardly bigger than Tom; anyway: but, you know, he put his arms right round her and he hugged her good-bye as if she were a little girl.
It turned out to be only our former chauffeur, Tsiganov, who had thought nothing of riding all the way from St. Petersburg, on buffers and freight cars, through the immense, frosty and savage expanse of revolutionary Russia, for the mere purpose of bringing us a very welcome sum of money sent us by good friends of ours. After a month's stay, Tsiganov declared the Crimean scenary bored him and departed— Vladimir Nabokov
to go all the way back north, with a big bag over his shoulder, containing various articles which we would have gladly given him had we thought he coveted them (such as a tourser press, tennis shoes, a nigthshirt, an alarm clock, a flat iron, several other ridiculous things I have forgotten) and the absence of which only gradually came to light if not pointed out, with vindictive zeal, by an anemic servant girl whose pale charms he had also rifled.
How did I dance with a guy who's never heard of feminism?"— Lani Woodland
"I've heard of it, but that doesn't mean a woman can do everything a man can do," he goaded. I went to smack him on the back of his head, but he ducked with a snicker."I'm learning," he informed me. "How did I ever consider dating such a violent girl?"
"We're both lucky we got out early before we really knew each other."
"Oh yes, good thing neither one of is still interested in the other," Brent said with a playful grin.
It's a girl!" he cried, and stood there, not quite knowing what to do, until the others crowded around him, hugging him, hugging each other, laughing, crying, asking questions. A girl. Michael should have known. "How big is she?" "Who does she look like?" "How's Leigh?" "When can we see them?" The babbling continued nonstop until, shortly thereafter, Jon was allowed to carry his daughter into the hall just outside the delivery room, where the Popewells waited excitedly.— Barbara Delinsky
You know how these things are supposed to work, right? The good-looking popular guy suddenly shows interest in the mousy girl from the country. Everyone hates her for it, but she starts to gain confidence in herself. Then the guy betrays her and regrets it. It's awful, but afterward she 'finds herself,' realizes she doesn't need him, and maybe there's some other stuff that happens" - he waggles his fingers in the air - "and finally she turns into the most beautiful girl ever because she likes herself. But it won't work at all if you don't stammer and blush and pretend you don't like me." She's— N.K. Jemisin
Tatiana knew she had been born too late into the family. She and Pasha. She should have been born in 1917, like Dasha. After her there were other children, but not for long: two brothers, one born in 1919 and one in 1921, died of typhus. A girl, born in 1922, died of scarlet fever in 1923. Then in 1924, as Lenin was dying and the New Economic Plan - that short-lived return to free enterprise - was coming to an end, while Stalin was scheming to enlarge his power base in the presidium through the firing squad, Pasha and Tatiana were born seven minutes apart to a very tired twenty-five-year-old Irina Fedorovna. The family wanted Pasha, their boy, but Tatiana was a stunning surprise. No one had twins. Who had twins? Twins were almost unheard of. And there was no room for her. She and Pasha had to share a crib for the first three years of their life. Since then Tatiana slept with Dasha.— Paullina Simons
Tru only matched his grin and walked on. Pen caught up with him, tugging on his arm. "What is it?"— Ellen Connor
"I took a walk yesterday when you were working."
"A walk."
"Yup."
"Had you shifted?"
"Yes, I had."
Pen caught his humor, although she couldn't understand its origins.
"And?"
"I may have used their freshwater reserves as a latrine. And then encouraged the other skinwalkers to do the same."
She giggled like a little girl being told a dirty joke.
"That's remarkably crude."
"I like to think of it as clever and resourceful."
"That, too.
Luce," he said at last, his voice soft. "what do you want me to do?" He paused, waiting for my response, but I wasn't sure what he was asking, so no response came.— Nicole Williams
"Please, just tell me," he continued. "Tell me what you want me to say, and do, when it comes to Adriana or any other girl that looks my way, and I'll do it. You want me to fire a spit wad between their eyes? So be it. You want me to flip them off any time any one of them looks my way? You got it. You want me to poke my eyes out so I can't see another one of their suggestive smiles again?" he trailed on, half of his face squishing together. "Well, that would suck, but I'd do it. For you." Cradling my face in his hands again, he leaned forward so his eyes were staring into mine from half a foot away. "Just tell me, baby. What do you want me to do?
I bet you think fellas are the ones to remember a girl— Nelson Algren
don't you?"
He shook his head hurriedly, that he'd always thought that.
"Fellas have all the fun 'n she just sees one right after another, so it seems like HE'D remember her, better 'n SHE'D remember him, only it works the other way around. I ain't forgot one single fella, all these years. But I bet there ain't TWO 'd know me from a big of bananas this minute.
No fainting in the middle of the road," said a voice close to my ear as a heavy arm landed across my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. I looked up to see Mal's familiar face, a smile in his bright blue eyes as he fell into step beside me. "C'mon," he said. "One foot in front of the other. You know how it's done." "You're interfering with my plan." "Oh really?" "Yes. Faint, get trampled, grievous injuries all around." "That sounds like a brilliant plan." "Ah, but if I'm horribly maimed, I won't be able to cross the Fold." Mal nodded slowly. "I see. I can shove you under a cart if that would help." "I'll think about it," I grumbled, but I felt my mood lifting all the same. Despite my best efforts, Mal still had that effect on me. And I wasn't the only one. A pretty blond girl strolled by and waved, throwing Mal a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. "Hey,— Leigh Bardugo
What happened, man? Gerry and Ginsberg are cold, and dead, in the ground. Kesey's stoned, and out of town. We've come to the end of the brotherhood song. The children brandish knives upon each other's throats, and their loaded 45's sit snug in lunch boxes nestled safely between Oreo cookies and a ham sandwich. Where are you now, oh ancient hipsters? Raggedy Beats beat down and broken wheel raggedy wheelchairs down ghostly geriatric wards. Where are you now, oh day-glow dreamers? Have you gotten off the bus and into your Mercedes? Did you get that second mortgage, and bear your fattened little babies? Where is that girl with flowers in her hair? Where is the man with revolution in his veins? We ask ourselves "where did we go wrong?" But there is no we. There is you, and then there is I. You do what you need to survive, And I do what I must to stay alive. We stand here Bleeding, slicing each other's wrists With the icy ridges of hardened jagged hearts, Cassandra's— Bearl Brooks
All I cared about then was catching a glimpse of Chairman Mao. I turned my eyes quickly away from Liu to the front of the motorcade. I spotted Mao's stalwart back, his right arm steadily waving. In an instant, he had disappeared. My heart sank. Was that all I would see of Chairman Mao? Only a fleeting glimpse of his back? The sun seemed suddenly to have turned gray. All around me the Red Guards were making a huge din. The girl standing next to me had just pierced the index finger of her right hand and was squeezing blood out of it to write something on a neatly folded handkerchief. I knew exactly the words she was going to use. It had been done many times by other Red Guards and had been publicized ad nauseam: "I am the happiest person in the world today. I have seen our Great Leader Chairman Mao!" Watching her, my despair grew. Life seemed pointless. A thought flickered into my mind: perhaps I should commit suicide?— Jung Chang
The sight of a fair young girl, as frank and wholesome as the Sierra breezes, had stirred his volcanic, untamed heart to its very depths. When she had vanished from his sight, he realized that a crisis had come in his life, and that neither silver speculations nor any other questions could ever be of such importance to him as this new and all-absorbing one. The love which had sprung up in his heart was not the sudden, changeable fancy of a boy, but rather the wild, fierce passion of a man of strong will and imperious temper.— Arthur Conan Doyle
I liked to feel his desire. On the other hand, I didn't like myself. That type of wild, cold little girl - "I have white teeth and a black heart" - seemed to me playacting for old gentlemen.— Francoise Sagan
Oi! Bad girl. Maybe I should have led with the fancy collar first." From his other back pocket, he brought forth a pink nylon collar with rhinestones stitched all around. Ooh. Pretty, shiny. Resist the bling. She looked away, and he laughed.— Eve Langlais
Don't you think I'm just as fucked up as you are? I might even be worse." He pulls me closer and tightens his grip around me. "All I know is that you, Hadlee Flax, are different than any other girl I've ever met and I'm willing to give this my all. Yes, we've both got issues. We're both mentally and emotionally fucked up. But I've got this theory that we just might be what each other needs to make it through our broken and fucked up lives and live to see the next day.— Lauren Hammond
Like every other girl in the world, my most embarrassing moment had to do with a guy completely turning me down. His loss!— Kelly Clarkson
His hand was on my throat, and he was crushing me back with his body into the cold steel beam behind me. "Yes, I have loved, Ms. Lane, and although it's none of your business, I have lost. Many things. And no, I am not like any other player in this game and I will never be like V'lane, and I get a hard-on a great deal more often than occasionally." He leaned fully against me and I gasped.— Karen Marie Moning
"Sometimes it's over a spoiled little girl, not a woman at all. And yes, I trashed the bookstore when I couldn't find you. You'll have to choose a new bedroom, too. And I'm sorry your pretty little world got all screwed up, but everybody's does, and you go on. It's how you go on that defines you." His hand relaxed on my throat. "And I am going to tattoo you, Ms. Lane, however and wherever I please.
Well?" she teased in turn. "What do you think?"— Judith McNaught
The gray eyes that finally lifted to hers were flaming, but instead of answering, he flicked his burning gaze down her length again. He hesitated, and then said abruptly, "I think that the dress fits you perfectly."
Lauren burst out laughing. "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you have a way with flattery, because you don't."
"Is that right?" he mocked, his eyes challenging. "In that case, I'll you exactly what I think: I think that you're exquisitely lovely, and that you have the fascinating ability to look like an extremely sexy, sophisticated young woman and an utterly angelic girl at one and the same time. And I wish to hell that we weren't trapped here with a hundred other people for the next few hours, because whenever I look at you I become...uncomfortably eager...to find out how you're going to feel in my arms tonight.
A guy walks into a bar, orders a drink, sees a girl that catches his eye. Asks her if she wants another, they fall for each other and end up lovers. They laugh, cry, hold on tight and make it work for a little while, then one night her taillights fade out into the dark. And a guy walks into a bar— Tyler Farr
As I looked at them, I found my mind rushing ahead to the wedding planned for the first part of September, and I wondered what flowers would be available. That was another decision that had to be made. Oh, my! Was there no end to them? It seemed that ever since Wynn had asked me to become his wife, I had been making one decision after the other - some big and some not-so-big. As my thoughts turned to Wynn, I smiled to myself. How fortunate I was to be engaged to marry such a man. He was everything a girl could ever desire - his height, his bearing, his smile, his quiet self-assurance, his caring. And he loved me! I would have gone on and on daydreaming but Kathleen interrupted me.— Janette Oke
You should respect Ian, Adam." Adam frowned. "I thought you would be more fun than this." Eve leaned over. "Alex told me Ian has a black eye." Adam fist pumped. "Fuck, yeah. You go, girl." Serena slapped at her husband's arm. "Be polite." Jake was on the other side of Serena, a mug of coffee in his hand. "He doesn't know how. He thinks tact is a made-up word.— Lexi Blake
I wish there was a song called "Nguyen and Ari," a little ditty about a hardworking Vietnamese girl who helps her parents withthe franchised Holiday Inn they run, and does homework in thelobby, and Ari, a hardworking Jewish boy who does volunteerwork at his grandmother's old-age home, and they meet afterschool at Princeton Review. They help each other study for theSATs and different AP courses, and then, after months of study-ing, and mountains of flashcards, they kiss chastely upon hear-ing the news that they both got into their top college choices.This is a song teens need to inadvertently memorize. Now that'sa song I'd request at Johnny Rockets!— Mindy Kaling
Either way, you wrote the book and now you're complaining about the reviews I'm giving it," I quipped.— Tarryn Fisher
"Fair enough." He held up his hands, "I'm going to start writing the sequel which will be considerably less narcissistic. Will you read it?"
"Only if every other girl on campus hasn't.
I respect that you want to protect your niece. You know, I didn't want my daughter to become a boxer. Neither did Mohammad. But Joe Frazier, on the other hand, he had his baby girl boxing in the crib.— George Foreman
I have just returned from Arenas and feel very tired. His Excellency loaded me with a thousand honours; I have painted his portrait and that of his wife and boy and girl with unexpected success, for other artists had been there previously and not been successful.— Francisco Goya
[...]You can take the pink hair dye out of the girl, but you never lose those roots."— Jodi Picoult
I took another sip of the martini. "You don't know me."
At the end of the bar, the other customer lifted his face to Peter Jennings and smiled.
"Maybe," Seven said, "but neither do you.
![His Other Girl Sayings By Jodi Picoult: [...]You can take the pink hair dye out of the girl, but you never lose](https://www.greatsayings.net/images/his-other-girl-sayings-by-jodi-picoult-1084183.jpg "His Other Girl Sayings By Jodi Picoult: [...]You can take the pink hair dye out of the girl, but you never lose")
Promise me, Lane," Rafe pleaded, letting me hear the depth of his anguish.— Kat Falls
"Okay. I will," I said, hating the promise even as I made it. "But only if I hear about a feral infected tiger, which I won't because I'll be on the other side of the wall."
A smile touched Rafe's lips, genuine this time. "You'll be back. A fierce girl like you belongs on the wild side.
Garrett has been the best friend a girl could want, so how could I be so stupid as to think about shutting him out for good? I've been so busy thinking about my unrequited love, I haven't even stopped to consider the other, more important part of our relationship.— Abby McDonald
Friendship.
Ignoring him now would make him think I don't care, that I don't want to be friends. I want to get over him, not lose him for good! How must he feel, with me not replying to his texts and e-mails like this? What kind of friend am I?
What prince wouldn't make a country girl a little restless? Those eyes, that mouth, the broad chest, were a royal combination unlike any other. He only held power over her if she let him, though. He brushed his teeth just like every other person. Put on his shoes one foot at a time.— Robin Bielman
Prince Theo was just extraordinarily normal.
And she could handle him and her story.
Probably.
Had passed between them on this score wasn't so and could never be. Later on, through his mother, I had his version of that, but I may remark that I gave it no credit. Poor Mrs. Nettlepoint, on the other hand, was of course to give it all. I was almost capable, after the girl had left me, of— Henry James
He prayed fundamentally as a gesture of love for what had gone and would go and could be loved in no other way. When he prayed he touched his parents, who could not otherwise be touched, and he touched a feeling that we are all children who lose our parents, all of us, every man and woman and boy and girl, and we too will all be lost by those who come after us and love us, and this loss unites humanity, unites every human being, the temporary nature of our being-ness, and our shared sorrow, the heartache we each carry and yet too often refuse to acknowledge in one another, and out of this Saeed felt it might be possible, in the face of death, to believe in humanity's potential for building a better world.— Mohsin Hamid
However much I might please Henry, he was still her boy - her lovely indulged spoilt golden boy. He might summon me or any other girl to his room, without disturbing the constant steady affection between them which had sprung from her ability, long ago, to love this man who was more foolish, more selfish, and less of a prince than she was a princess.— Philippa Gregory
In this unity there was happiness, but it is not far from happiness to suspicion, and the girl was full of suspicions. For instance, it occurred to her that other women (those who weren't anxious) were more attractive and more seductive, and that the young man, who did not conceal the fact that he knew this kind of woman well, would someday leave her for a woman like that. (True, the young man declared that he'd had enough of them to last his whole life, but she knew that he was still much younger than he thought.) She wanted him to be completely hers and herself to be completely his, but it often seemed to her that the more she tried to give him everything, the more she denied him something: the very thing that a light and superficial love or a flirtation gives a person.— Milan Kundera
I'm really grateful to you for saving us, Maia, and Jace is too, even though he's so stubborn that he'd rather jam a seraph blade through his eyeball than say so. And don't you say you hope he does," she added hastily, seeing the look on the other girl's face, "because that's really not helpful.— Cassandra Clare
I am the girl who prefers to send her Friday night curled up with her pillow, reading a good novel, and I am also the girl who likes to go out on a Saturday night and dance until the DJ plays his last song. I am the girl who wants to wear beat up converses and an over-sized sweatshirt, and I am also the girl who owns over sixty dresses and too many shoes to count. Why did it become okay to say one is better than the other? Because I am all of that.— Ming Liu
Morfyd's care.— G.A. Aiken
As she walked out of the cave she passed Annwyl walking in. The girl had her swords in one hand. The other hand held her ripped shirt and bindings over her ample breasts. Her brows angled down into a dark frown and she wouldn't even look at Morfyd as she passed.
"How did that talk go then?" Morfyd called over her shoulder.
"Shut. Up."
Morfyd laughed as she advanced into the glen toward the clearing where she could take off. She rounded a corner and came upon her brother, his chainmail shirt and sword in his big hand, heading toward the hidden entrance of his cave. She watched him as he passed and she noticed the long scratches across his back.
"How did that talk go then?" Morfyd called over her shoulder.
"Shut. Up."
Morfyd shook her head. If love always made you this pathetic, she wanted nothing to do with it.
If he slept, he dreamt of the woman with the icy white irises. She exploded planes, swallowed oceans and crumpled skies— Sukanya Venkatraghavan
in her palm in his dreams. Sometimes she and the green-eyed girl were one. At other times, the green-eyed girl was alone, a gaping hole where her heart should have been. At all times he could hear the woman's cold, low laughter. It swept across his consciousness like a hailstorm.
When he woke up, he thought he was going mad.
It took a moment to recognize Timothy ... her first love. There had been a time when the mere sight of his handsome face had made her catch her breath. It had taken her years to recover from losing Timothy. Now the pain of his loss was muted and somehow apart from her, as if a broken engagement had happened to some other young, naive girl. She looked at him, and all she could think was, Thank Goodness. Thank goodness she's escaped marrying him.— Elizabeth Hoyt
Young friends, whose string-and-tin-can phone extended from island to island, had to pay out more and more string, as if letting kites go higher and higher. They had more and more to tell each other, and less and less string. The boy asked the girl to say "I love you" into her can, giving her no further explanation. And she didn't ask for any, or say "That's silly," or "We're too young for love," or even suggest that she was saying "I love you" because he asked her to. Instead she said, "I love you." The words traveled through the long, long string. The boy covered his can with a lid, removed it from the string, and put her love for him on a shelf in his closet. Of course, he never could open the can, because then he would lose its contents. It was enough just to know it was there.— Jonathan Safran Foer
I mean, for all of his faults and the troubles in his marriage, Bill Clinton is still married to a girl he met in the library 25 years ago at school. Can we say that about many of our other leaders today in America, including on the right wing?— Paul Begala
