Quotes & Sayings About A Girl Who Smiles

If a girl understands your BS, sticks with you through your mistakes, smiles even when you've done nothing for her, it's obvious she's a keeper. But it's also obvious you don't deserve her. — Lil' Wayne

I've always seen white picket fences in your eyes when you look at me. I was positive I wasn't that guy. I was wrong. One of these days, when you're ready, I'll give that dream to you. And you're going to give me a gorgeous little girl or two with your dark curly hair and smiles that slay me. — Sylvia Day

Each time a girl approached the table, Mortimer would smile. Like this: And each time the girl would shriek and run away. — Kelly DiPucchio

She smiles, lightning quick, then squeezes my hand harder, holding on like she's afraid someone will come and pull us apart.
"You'll face it all with me?" The world narrows, the sounds of the oncoming search party fading, the lights blurring around us until it's just her and me, our breath condensing and mingling in the cold air. She's stolen my voice, this girl in my arms, and for a moment I can't answer. I have to gather my wits, try to remember how to breathe.
"Always." Her smile is like the sun coming out.
"Then you ought to kiss me while you can, Major Merendsen. It may be a while before your next opportunity. — Amie Kaufman

Everyone has a destiny, Gemma, my moms voice fills my thoughts. Yours is just more important. I always knew it would be, since the day you were born. She smiles brightly. My violet-eyed girl. Youre going to do great things, but itll be hard. Youll be tested, more than you already have. But no matter what, you can never lose yourself. You have to fight, no matter what, Gemma. Never, ever give up. — Jessica Sorensen

If the boy who draws
lets you look over his shoulder.
If the poet
smiles
and shows you her words.
If the girl who sings for the shower only,
hums a song
in front of you.
Know that you're no longer a person
but the air
and dust
that fills their lungs.
When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
you'll remain inside an ink stain,
a paint brush,
a song.

Poem N. 8 — Alaska Gold

In my own case, I had to train myself out of that phony smile, which is like a nervous tic on every teenage girl. And this meant that I smiled rarely, for in truth, when it came down to real smiling, I had less to smile about. My 'dream' action for the women's liberation movement: a smile boycott, at which declaration all women would instantly abandon their 'pleasing' smiles, henceforth smiling only when something pleased them. — Shulamith Firestone

Connor pockets his cell. "Lily," he says. "If I wanted to date for a last name, I'd have a girl on my arm every single day. I would never be single." He leans forward. "I promise you, that my intentions are pure. And I think it's sweet you're looking out for Rose, but she's more than capable of taking care of herself, which is one of the many reasons why I want to pursue her." "What's another reason?" I test him. He smiles. "I won't have to taxingly explain to her menu items in a real French restaurant." He knows she's fluent? "I won't have to explain financial statements or dividends. I'll be able to discuss anything and everything in the world, and she'll have an answer. — Krista Ritchie

But the truly brilliant geocachers?"
"Yeah?" he says. "What about us?"
"They know it by its real name. Terra Firma."
"Terra Firma," he repeats. At last, he slips his backpack off his shoulder. I know what he's looking for.
I take a breath. "You don't need your GPS for this cache."
His eyes don't move off mine; he's watching me so carefully. "You don't, huh?"
"Nope," I say.
Some things are meant to be kept - what you learn from experiences good or bad, smiles from an orphaned girl, a boy who is your compass pointing to your True North. So I look at Jacob full in the face with nothing obscuring him. Or me. And then I step closer to him. And closer. And closer yet.
"Here I am," I tell him. "Here I am. — Justina Chen

There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Pain wrenched her heart. All those skills she had developed so painstakingly as a girl were apparently going to destroy a dream that she'd never had the courage to hold ... 'It's only desire,' she explained, watching his eyes. 'Desire is an artificial thing, created by - by -'
'By what?'
'By artificial things,' Annabel said obstinately. 'Smiles I practiced, Ewan ... You don't understand how fabricated it all is ... I let my hips sway when I walk, because men like it. You like it.'
'Your hips don't sway naturally?'
'No. Or perhaps they do at this point, but only because I consciously changed my walk when I was younger. But it's all just a facade, put on to inspire desire.' ...
'A game of desire?'
No. A game to get what I wish from men. — Eloisa James

I begin my life. I live again. I meet a young girl called Valeria. She smiles easily. She laughs tender sounds that pull at my heart. I'm too young to be profound but she makes me feel so safe. So cherished. I am thirty years old. I bump into a woman I knew when she was a girl. Valeria looks annoyed to see me. She lives in the future. Where the world is turning. I live within the past. Where the people are trapped and screaming and alone. I live within the past when Valeria and I were in love. She's waiting for the cab to come, her foot tapping against the sidewalk. Her eyes glancing at her watch every few minutes. I'm eager to reunite our lives through some kind of friendship. I'm so eager to know her again, as she was when she was a child. But Valeria lives within the future. I live within the past. Have the two ever gotten along? Have they ever even met? — F.K. Preston

And they will pause just for an instant, and give a sigh to me, and think, "Poor girl!" believing they do great justice to my memory by this. But they will never, never realize that it was my single opportunity of existence, as well as of doing my duty, which they are regarding; they will not feel that what to them is but a thought, easily held in those two words of pity, "Poor girl!" was a whole life to me, as full of hours, minutes, and peculiar minutes, of hopes and dreads, smiles, whisperings, tears, as theirs: that it was my world, what is to them their world, and that in that life of mine, however much I cared for them, only as the thought I seem to them to be. Nobody can enter into another's nature truly, that's what is so grievous. — Thomas Hardy

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.
"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? — Nicole Williams

The miscegenation laws of the South only operate against the legitimate union of the races; they leave the white man free to seduce all the colored girls he can, but it is death to the colored man who yields to the force and advances of a similar attraction in white women. White men lynch the offending Afro-American, not because he is a despoiler of virtue, but because he succumbs to the smiles of white women. — Ida B. Wells

Usually i'd sit back and just enjoy the view for what it was because it's not often you come across something so ridiculously out of place, a girl like you, on the subway, it's like spotting a unicorn at the zoo.
I reasoned how to pull this off, to get you, to say hi, to ask your name, what your voice sounded like, if you had a cute smile because i like cute smiles. In ten minutes I had a thousand thoughts of you and you had no clue ... — Stephan K. Garcia

You love me," I breathe.
He lets out a short laugh. "You're such a fucking girl."
"Say it again."
He smiles, a full blown one that tingles my body all over. "I fucking love you, sweetheart. — Krista Ritchie

Goed morgen, fentomen!" a deckhand shouts to them as he passes by, his arms full of rope. All the ship's crew call them fentomen. It is the Kerch word for ghosts. When the girl asks the quartermaster why, he laughs and says it's because they are so pale and because of the way they stand silent at the ship's railing, staring at the sea for hours, as if they've never seen water before. She smiles and does not tell him the truth: that they must keep their eyes on the horizon. They are watching for a ship with black sails. Baghra's — Leigh Bardugo

Remember
Love doesn't make the world go round
Sex makes it spin for a second or two
If you're lucky
So do chips, sausage rolls and girls in short skirts
Remember
Love
Lays its fingers on your heart
And holds it
Under water
Remember that
When the next girl smiles — Cath Crowley

On this thanksgiving, I would like to thank that one girl, who never lost hope despite all odds were against her, who always worked, and moved on, despite losing all friends just after leaving school, a time when you need friends the most! Who had immense strength and will-power and so much inspiration inside her that she ended up being happy, satisfied, and successful, all alone.
That one girl who always smiles in the mirror, and says, 'Bitch, you have a long way to go, and you gotta travel all alone, depending upon anyone will make you weak, so buck up, there's a lot you gotta do!' On this thanksgiving, I thank myself, my soul for being so majestically robust!
I would have thanked other people, but sadly, nobody ever helped me, more than I helped myself ... — Mehek Bassi

She's really not my kind of girl - most of them have tattoos or nose rings - but there's something about her smile. She smiles like she's in love with whoever she's looking at.
She smiled at me a few months ago. I've been trying to get her to do it again ever since. — Jaye Murray

What is it with young women and exclamation points and smiley faces! So afraid of appearing somber, always wanting to appear light and happy and sparkling, even when they are dying inside. Not ever being able to escape the mask that smiles. She wants to write, really write someday. But she is not fully formed. So she does not write. Not really. Unless attempting to live is a form of attempting to write. The agony of becoming. This is what she experiences. The young girl. She would like to be someone, anyone else. She wants, vaguely, to be something more than she is. But she does not know what that is, or how one goes about doing such a thing. — Kate Zambreno

When I got here my first thought was: Maybe I achieved such an effort with my thoughts that time has made a complete revolution; here I am at the station from which I left on my first journey, it has remained as it was then, without any change. All the lives that I could have led begin here; there is the girl who could have been my girl and wasn't, with the same eyes, the same hair ... "
She looks around as if making fun of me; I point my chin at her; she raises the corners of her mouth as if to smile, then stops: because she has changed her mind, or because this is the only way she smiles. "I don't know if that's a compliment, but I'll take it as one. And then what? — Italo Calvino

I had Benia's hands, Meryt's friendship, the feel of newborn flesh, the smiles of new mothers, a little girl who laughed in my kitchen, a house of my own. It was more than enough. — Anita Diamant

One day the girl is taking a bath and calls out. The widow comes into the tiny bathroom and the water surrounding the girl's legs is clouded with crimson. She slaps the girl in the face and smiles and kisses her on the cheeks. She says, "May you bloom." The girl doesn't flinch. The widow tells her, "This is the first language of your body. It is the word ne. When you bleed each month, as when the moon comes and goes in its journey, you leave the world of men. You enter the body of all women, who are connected to all of nature." The girl asks, "Why is it the word ne?" The widow responds, "When you bleed, this word is more powerful than any word you could ever speak. It is a blood word. It binds you to animals and trees and the moon and the sun. Where men take blood in the world in hunting and war, women give blood. It is the word ne because it closes the room of a woman's body to men." The widow places her hands into the water and says, "Good. You are alive. You and I are alive. — Lidia Yuknavitch

Smiles like that should be against the law. Considering what they do to a girl. — Meg Cabot

At school, the news that Pia Kolvenbach was moving to England and that her parents were divorcing had circulated with lightening speed. Suddenly I was no longer ostracized for being the Potentially Exploding Girl, but the new attention was worse. I could tell that the girls who sidled up to me and asked with faux-sympathetic smiles whether it was true were doing it on the basis of discussions they had heard between their own parents, to who they would report back like scouts. Soon there would be nothing left of me at all, nothing real: I would be a walking piece of gossip, alternatively tragic and appalling and, worse of all, a poor thing. — Helen Grant

It was the program from her ceremony, and on the side was a love note that I could not recognize as such. It was written in that vague, noncommittal way of a girl who wants you to know what she feels but wants to protect herself all the same. I did not know what I was holding, and was caught on the price in self-esteem for figuring it out. I talked to her that night and thanked her, but I did not push like I was supposed to. I could not see that beneath the shield, beneath the smiles and laughter that were her armor, behind the glowing ax, all of us are waiting to be swept away. — Ta-Nehisi Coates

Sometimes, God smites. Other times, he smiles. And all we are left with is to wonder why. A little girl dies crossing a street she's crossed a thousand times. Meanwhile, at that very same moment somewhere far away, another child escapes the wheels of an oncoming car by the skin of her milk teeth. Is there reason there? Purpose? Or are we all simply the victims of a God who can't tell his Ls from his Ts? — Christopher John Boyce

He looks again at the face of the little girl. He wonders where she went, that little firecracker life, that smoldering, spitting, whizgig of a girl. He wonders if he can tell from the expression on her face where she's gone to.
And he smiles because he can.
The angels would want her sure. — Alden Bell

This Girl with nothing but her own strength and a desire to be free. With nothing but a beating heart that is scared to be alone. With nothing but clear blue eyes that see through me and understand me. With nothing but open arms ready to receive me. To stand by me. To walk with me. To love me. I love her. Lilly. The Girl with nothing and everything. Lilly. I love her. A tear appears. She smiles. She leans forward kisses my lips softly kisses me and as our lips touch barely touch she whispers. I love you too, James. Our lips barely touching she whispers. I love you. Whispers. I love you. — James Frey

God smiles on those who quietly do his dirty work, my girl. — Laura Bickle

The girl, who sits in the middle, must read her feelings, because she smiles and says, "Don't worry, this isn't a test - we just want to help you find where you'll fit in here." It's an odd thing to say, since not fitting in is every Unwinds problem — Anonymous

She was not a little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown woman smiling at it all, but they were wet smiles. — J.M. Barrie

He smiles and pours us each a drink, then puts his glass up in the air. "Here's to my beautiful naked girl." "I'm not drinking to my nakedness." He runs his hand down my stomach. "Oh, but you should." "Dawson! Stop that! We need to order food. I'm starving." "Me too, but it's not my fault you're so damn sexy, and you make me want you. All the time. — Jillian Dodd

This is good and hot."
"I remember you used to say that about someone I know."
He shakes his head. "Give it up, Scotts. That boat sailed, sank, and got towed."
"But ... "
"No. It ain't going to happen."
He sits down next to me and I curl up next to him.
"Nicky, it's hard being a child of your divorce and probably the reason somebody is dead."
Nick raises my head with his hands and looks at me and smiles.
"Life bites, baby girl."
" ... and sucks."
Amen. — Angela Johnson

You wanted to lick my face the first time you saw me? Is that usually what you do when you're attracted to guys?"
I shake my head. "Not your face, your dimple. And no. You're the only guy I've ever had the urge to lick."
He smiles at me confidently. "Good. Because you're the only girl I've ever had the urge to love. — Colleen Hoover

A girl who never smiles has such power - what men will do to turn up but one corner of her mouth! She already wears her red war-gown and her circlet of cinnabar poppies. They bring out the color in her grimace. — Catherynne M Valente

Good, stupid high school boys aren't worth It" She throws an arm over my shoulder. "They're trained to like a certain type of girl, with highlights and pretty nails- the kind who are good at remembering to put on lotion every morning after they shower." She smiles like she's got a dirty secret. "And let's face it ... sluts. — Siobhan Vivian

She said she loved this place. This is the last she'll see of it. I'll watch for one tear, one human tear. Not that blank hating moonstruck face. I'll listen ... If she says good-bye perhaps adieu. Adieu
like those old-time songs she sang. Always adieu (and all the songs say it). If she too says it, or weeps, I'll take her in my arms, my lunatic. She's mad but mine, mine. What will I care for gods or devils or for Fate itself. If she smiles or weeps or both. For me.
Antoinetta
I can be gentle too. Hide your face. Hide yourself but in my arms. You'll soon see how gentle. My lunatic. My mad girl. — Jean Rhys

That's not entirely true." He smiles at me. "That girl who let someone throw knives at her to spare a friend, who hit my dad with
a belt to protect me - that selfless girl, that's not you? — Veronica Roth

The beauty of a girl is not in her dress neither in the thousand beautiful fake smiles she gives. The beauty is in her heart. The only way to find it, is to rip her heart in a good way. — Christian Thogolith

She walks,
on the streets,
with a face that,
doesn't belong.
It smiles more than,
many put together,
whole day long.
Her heart misfit,
a little chipped.
And she likes to,
call it once broken,
but now stitched. — Jasleen Kaur Gumber

She tries to turn too soon, and the ladder smacks into Fernando's shoulder.
"Oh! Sorry, Nando."
The jolt knocks his glasses askew. He smiles at Christina and takes the glasses off, shoving them into his pocket.
"Nando?" I say to him. "I thought the Erudite didn't like nicknames?"
"When a pretty girl calls you by a nickname," he says, "it is only logical to respond to it. — Veronica Roth

A few more of those smiles, and this guy isn't going to know what hit him when the Earth girl impulsively kisses him for no apparent reason. -Reece Bryant — S.L. Morgan

Feelings, she learned, were hard to fight. She treasured his smiles and compliments and tried not to dwell on the fact that he gave this things to his friend Kel.
His dreamy-eyed gazes, poems, and fits of passionate melancholy were for Uline. It was hard not to resent the older girl. — Tamora Pierce

What irritated her most was that they kept brushing off her arguments with patronizing smiles, making her feel like a teenager being quizzed on her homework. Without actually uttering a single inappropriate word, they displayed towards her an attitude that was so antediluvian it was almost comical. You shouldn't worry your pretty head over complex matters, little girl. — Stieg Larsson

and she smiles at me, my best friend, with her long, tangled blond hair and thick eyelashes and her smile that lights up any room. My other half. The girl who took my hand all those years ago and didn't let go until she had to. — Kristin Hannah

Carmel's a very pretty girl," she says hopefully. "Thomas seems to think so." She sighs, then smiles. "Good. He could use a woman's touch."
"Mom," I groan. "Gross." "Not that kind of touch," she laughs. — Kendare Blake

She was this girl living in a bottomless hole of her thoughts.
One day she saw a light. She felt the warmth and walked in its direction.
It was there that she found him.
He spoke to her and wove tendrils of love on her heart.
His compassion was over whelming for her.
His words, his love, his eyes- everything about him was so pure, so true.
Her heart was getting intertwined with the love he was bestowing upon her.
The mesh of affection he weaved around her heart made it breathe. And live.
Vine by vine the mesh thickened.
Today, he is her beloved. They are inseparable.
He smiles, she smiles. They weave dreams.
She loves him beyond infinity.
He has her heart strings. And as he walks, she walks with him. — Geetansha Sood

Jeb smiles - a genuine Jebediah Holt grin, complete with dimples. Such a beautiful distraction. "I love you, skater girl."
The nickname winds through me, comforting and sweet. I smooth my palm across his shoulder. "Say it again."
"I love you."
"No ... the other part," I plead.
He pulls my body to his, so our mouths come together in a warm, soft kiss. "Skater girl," he whispers against me, brushing hair from my face. — A.G. Howard

The woman in whose body I had grown, in whose house I'd been raised was, in some vital ways, a stranger to me. I'd gone thirty years without ascribing her any more dimension than the paper dollies I'd played with as a girl with the pasted on smiles and the folding tab dresses. — Kate Morton

He looks again towards the door, expecting Mum to walk in and remind him of something he's forgotten. He smiles awkwardly.
'Is that it, Dad? I've got to go.'
'Your Mum said I should mention ... um ... satisfaction.'
'What!'
'She said young men should know things, should be told things so that the girl won't be ... ' his eyes plead for understanding, ' ... disappointed.'
[ ... ] 'No worries, Dad. My biology teacher said I was a natural.'
Dad looks confused.
'I'm kidding, Dad.'
[ ... ] Poor bloke, having to do the dirty work while Mum's off with her gang.
'Dad? What did Grandpa tell you about sex?'
'He said if I got a girl pregnant, he'd kill me. — Steven Herrick

Old photograph: amid the set poses of her family, a young girl smiles and raises her hand a little. — Mason Cooley

Laila watches Mariam glue strands of yarn onto her doll's head. In a few years, this little girl will be a woman who will make small demands on life, who will never burden others, who will never let on that she too had sorrows, disappointments, dreams that have been ridiculed. A woman who will be like a rock in a riverbed, enduring without complaint, her grace not sullied but shaped by the turbulence that washes over her. Already Laila sees something behind this young girl's eyes, something deep in her core, that neither Rasheed nor the Taliban will be able to break. something as hard and unyielding as a block of limestone. Something that, in the end, will be her undoing and Laila's salvation.
The little girl looks up. Puts the doll down. Smiles. — Khaled Hosseini

She said she collects pieces of sky, cuts holes out of it with silver scissors, bits of heaven she calls them.
Every day a bevy of birds flies rings around her fingers, my chorus of wives, she calls them.
Every day she reads poetry from dusty books she borrows from the library, sitting in the park, she smiles at passing strangers, yet can not seem to shake her own sad feelings.
She said that night reminds her of a cool hand placed gently across her fevered brow, said she likes to fall asleep beneath the stars, that their streaks of light make her believe that she too is going somewhere.
"Infinity", she whispers as she closes her eyes, descending into thin air, where no arms outstretch to catch her. — Lisa Zaran

Everything that I did, I thought of him. He had consumed me. He has crawled inside of me and become part of me, part of my day-to-day life. Even when he is not in my presence, he is part of everything that I do. He is in my mind. He has infected me.

I paint my nails and I hope. I hope that he praises me. I hope that he smiles. I hope that when he says what he says, whatever it may be, that he ends it with those two words.
Baby girl.
I am ruined. — Scott Hildreth

I would laugh at all my provincial inmates, but I'm too busy lusting. I'm not usually interested in a guy with "take a number" on his forehead, but this guy doesn't have a forehead - it's buried in messy blond hair. And he's not one of the twenty guys I've known my entire pubescent life. he smiles like the Fourth of July. What's a dumb girl to do but get in line with everyone else not in his league? I guess journalism just became my most beloved class. — Kristen Chandler

The small girl smiles. One eyelid flickers.
She whips a pistol from her knickers.
She aims it at the creature's head,
And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead. — Roald Dahl

Little girl, little boy
If love has a way
Fill their fields with laughter
And scatter the sun on their day
And if it should happen to rain
Make their raindrops kisses
Straight from heaven above
That touch their hands and faces
And that fill them with love
And make the moon reflect their smiles
And their stars plenty
And, above all, keep them together
And hold them as you may
Forever and ever
Until their last day. — Laura Miller

Traffic crawls
Cell phone calls
Talk radio screams at me
But through my tinted window
I see a little girl
Rust red minivan
She's got chocolate on her face
Got little hands and she waves at me
Yeah, she smiles at me
Well hello world
How you been
Good to see you my old friend
Sometimes I feel
Cold as steel
Broken like I'm never gonna heal
And I see a light
A little hope
In a little girl
Hello world — Lady Antebellum

When smiles fade, girl, you'll know it's time to move on. — Paige Dearth

Yeah, well," I say, "I left Abnegation because I wasn't selfless enough, no matter how hard I tried to be."
"That's not entirely true." He smiles at me. "That girl who let someone throw knives at her to spare a friend, who hit my dad with a belt to protect me-that selfless girl, that's not you?" ...
"You've been paying close attention, haven't you?"
"I like to observe people/"
"Maybe you were cut out for Candor, Four, because you're a terrible liar. — Veronica Roth

He smiled all the way to physics class. He almost laughed out loud when he passed through the door and saw her shadowy, hunched-over form casting around for a seat in the back.
She was in his class; this was excellent. Maybe she'd call him a name if he struck up another conversation. Even curse him out. That might fun. God, he'd probably earn himself a restraining order if he tried to sit next to her.
He was so tired of saccharine smiles and cloying tones of voice. People always plastered their eyes to his face for fear of looking anywhere else. He was fed up with everybody being so goddamned nice.
That's why he'd already fallen in love with this weird, maladjusted, beautiful girl who carried a chip the size of Ohio on her shoulder. Because nobody was ever mean to the guy in the wheelchair. — Francine Pascal

I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl,
From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl,
I'd love to spend a winter with my lovely summer girl,
But I'm never warm enough for my lovely summer girl,
It's summer when she smiles, I'm laughing like a child,
It's the summer of our lives; we'll contain it for a while
She holds the heat, the breeze of summer in the circle of her hand
I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had. — Maggie Stiefvater