I'm the kind of person that needs to think things through. But when I know what I want to do, I really know.
It's the perfect solution. We argue all the time. We can't stand each other. It's like we're already married.
Shock is a merciful condition. It allows you to get through disaster with a necessary distance between you and your feelings.
If you won’t marry me for the sake of your own honor, then do it for the sake of everyone who would have to tolerate me otherwise. Marry me because I need someone who will help me to laugh at myself. Because someone has to teach me how to whistle. Marry me, Lillian… because I have the most irresistible fascination for your ears.
What does your gut tell you?" "My gut and I aren't currently speaking to each other
How do I look?" Amanda asked. Jack shook his head ruefully as he glanced at her. No one could mistake the remaining flush on her cheeks, or the soft sparkle of her eyes, or her lusciously swollen mouth, for anything other than the results of physical passion. "Like you've been ravished," he said flatly. She astonished him by smiling. "Hurry, please. I want to go inside my house and consult a looking glass. I've always wanted to know what a ravished woman looks like.
We’ll continue our discussion later. Right now I intend to escort Miss Peyton to her room. ” “That is not a wise idea, in my opinion,” the earl said. “I’m glad I didn’t ask for it, then,” Simon returned pleasantly
Lives of great men all remind us greatness takes no easy way.
We ask the leaf, "Are you complete in yourself?" And the leaf answers, "No, my life is in the branches. " We ask the branch, and the branch answers, "No my life is in the root. " We ask the root, and it answers, "No my life is in the trunk and the branches and the leaves. Keep the branches stripped of leaves, and I shall die," So it is with the great tree of being. Nothing is completely and merely individual.
The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it?
The prayer of the feeblest saint who lives in the Spirit and keeps right with God is a terror to Satan. The very powers of darkness are paralyzed by prayer; no spiritualistic seance can succeed in the presence of a humble praying saint. No wonder Satan tries to keep our minds fussy in active work till we cannot think in prayer.