Finally Over It Quotes & Sayings

It isn't just the way she feels, or smells, or tastes; it's the way she sighs into my mouth, like: finally. Like: you found me. Like: this is everything I dreamed it would be.

How do you ever stop kissing a girl like that?

Maybe it's just that simple, you idiot, I think as our tongues sweep over each other in lazy, relaxing rhythm, low tide on a calm day. You don't. — Dahlia Adler

Far too often, it is at the moment where we finally stand on the very precipice of some great thing that we turn and abandon it, for it is at these seminal moments that fear wins and greatness dies. The beauty of Christmas is that God steps over precipices. — Craig D. Lounsbrough

Most books germinate within you for a long time before they are ready to come out. I wrote several drafts of the novel over many years and when I finally got to the last one, it didn't take much time. — Pankaj Mishra

admitted I was powerless over food,
that my life had become uninhabitable.
Sure, there are folks who speak of lives
unmanageable, but my life was always that!
It took more to push me to the admission.
I had a Hell Year when I turned 50
and it took me another ten to reach the crevice,
to fall off the edge, to give up and go
where a counselor had directed me for years,
to the rooms of recovery. I knew she was right
but I wasn't broken enough to go. Unmanageable,
I could life in. Uninhabitable I couldn't.
I fought it for nigh on sixty years
but when I finally couldn't keep on pretending,
continue making do, I found what I needed,
what I could finally accept, and soar out of there
to recovery. — Barbara B. Rollins

There are probably a million and one regrets I have, and if they are going to be between us here or in bed, then let's just stop it now, because I'm not going to do combat over my past when my future is finally starting to be something I want to invest in. — Jay Crownover

A monster crosses over into the everyday world. The mortals struggle and show great courage, but it's no use. The monster kills first the guilty, then the innocent, until finally only one remains. The Last Boy, the Last Girl. There is a final battle. The Last One suffers great wounds, but in the final moment vanquishes the monster. Only later does he or she recognize that this is the monster's final trick; the scars run deep, and the awareness of the truth grows like an infection. The Last One knows that the monster isn't dead, only sent to the other side. There it waits until it can slip into the mundane world again. Perhaps next time it will be a knife-wielding madman, or a fanged beast, or some nameless tentacled thing. It's the monster with a thousand faces. The details matter only to the next victims. — Daryl Gregory

There are people out there who have x-ray vision. They can see through my walls, armor and scrims and filters right down to the real me. And the saddest thing in the world? I haven't forgotten who that person is. She's on there and waiting. Like sleeping beauty locked high in a tower, she's been patient and aware of the coma I've been in all these years. I realise the one hitch in having x-ray glasses is that I'm utterly exposed to him. It's one thing to want someone to keep looking, to swim over moats and dodge flaming arrows to find you. It's quite another when you ask yourself, really ask yourself, if you're finally ready to come out into the open. No matter what. — Liza Palmer

In the meantime, it is heartening to know that Christ's victory over Satan can be enforced now by means of prayer. Daniel prayed for twenty-one days, and finally the angel of Satan was defeated. Earthly victories depend on heavenly victories, and vice versa. We who battle evil on the earth are fellow warriors with the angels who battle evil in the invisible realms, and our prayers form a network of power and communication that work in tandem on both fronts. This means the praying church actually wields a strong hand in determining the outcome of human events. As someone has said, "It is not the mayors that make the world go 'round; it is the pray-ers. — David Jeremiah

A few minutes passed, and Thomas felt the long day finally catch up to him, the leaded edge of sleep
crossing over his mind. But - like a fist had shoved it in his brain and let go - a thought popped into his
head. One that he didn't expect, and he wasn't sure from where it came. — James Dashner

Ain't all that simple," he said. "It's everything I been brought up to be. Can't all be bullshit, can it?" Rydell, glancing over at him, took pity. "Naw," he said, "I guess it wouldn't have to be, necessarily, all of it, but it's just - " "What they bring you all up to be, Berry?" Rydell had to think about it. "Republican," he said, finally. — William Gibson

Joe hid his grin. "A little grab-ass is not accosting." At the worst of times, Luna could amuse him. And now he finally had her where he wanted her.
...
Her mesmerizing eyes shone with annoyance and disbelief. "I barely knew you, Joe. I brought you a sandwich, and half a minute later you had your hands all over me."
Despite his aches and pains, the memory warmed Joe. Locking onto her gaze, he said in his defense, "You have that kind of bottom, honey. All round and soft."
Her color deepened. "Of all the stupid, sexist
"
"It's irresistible," Joe insisted, and meant it. "It begs for a man's hands. It
" There looked to be an explosion imminent, so Joe wisely let that go for now and instead distracted her. "And for your information, no. I didn't get beat up by a woman." He snorted. "How absurd is that?"
"I dunno." Her body vibrated with tension. "I'm ready to beat you up."
-Joe and Luna — Lori Foster

It was a destructive novel of acquired ideas. To finally wake up in a state of creative anguish, to lose oneself in order to find oneself again, to sleep in the arms of a beautiful student whose name one didn't know, to fall back to sleep over a love poem-that was called existence. The harmonics of artistic creation, of fertile sensibility, of anticipated events-history in movement-that was called a privilege. — Elie Wiesel

It looked like a colour, but also ... like a bruise or a secretion, like an oozing-and something else, an odour, for example, it melted into the odour of wet earth, warm, moist wood, into a black odour that spread like varnish over this sensitive wood, in a flavour of chewed, sweet fibre. I did not simply see this black: sight is an abstract invention, a simplified idea, one of man's ideas. That black, amorphous, weakly presence, far surpassed sight, smell and taste. But this richness was lost in confusion and finally was no more because it was too much. — Jean-Paul Sartre

When you finally realize that peace is your natural state of being then you will know that any form of non-peace is a belief in illusion. Illusion that anything should be something other than what it is which can never be so. What if instead of waiting for what isn't to become your version of what is, why don't you be peaceful right now while you alter what isn't for you if you so choose? Is it ever worth it to wear a cloak of non-peacefulness over God Brilliance? — John Phillips

I didn't do it on purpose." His arms went around her. "I just ... I just needed to keep you up here." He walked her backward until her knees met the edge of her bed, and they both tumbled onto the mattress. "In this bed."
He stroked her hair, fanning it out over the pillows, and framed her face in his hands. "But I couldn't discern what it was you needed to feel safe. I tried everything. Finally, tonight, you gave me the answer. Light. So now you have as many candles as you please. But now it's gone all wrong. Because you're here in this bed. But I'm here, too. And God help me, Izzy." His brow pressed to hers, and his weight settled over her, crushing and warm. "I don't know how to leave. — Tessa Dare

I'm over a thousand years old. I've seen it all. You, sweetcheeks, are nothing new." At what must have been an outraged expression on her face, he laughed again. "Come on. Surely you can't think you are the only female out there who's had a rough life, had her heart walked on, been kept in a dungeon for three centuries, blah, blah, pick your trauma, and are now stomping around with all this pent-up anger you spill like acid on everyone who gets to know you." He narrowed his gaze at her. "How close am I?"
Sin's mouth worked, but nothing came out. She finally snapped it shut to avoid looking like a fish gasping on the bank of a river.
"That's what I thought." He made a shooing gesture with his hand. "No, run along and go be caustic with someone who cares. Oh, wait, no one cares, do they? Because you won't let them
— Larissa Ione

Three a.m. drunks, all over America, were staring at the walls, having finally give it up. You didn't have to be drunk to get hurt, to be zeroed out by a woman; but you could get hurt and become a drunk. You might think for a while, especially when you were young, that luck was with you, and sometimes it was. But there were all manner of averages and laws working that you know nothing about, even as you imagined things were going well. Some night, some hot summer Thursday, night you became the drunk, you were out there alone in a cheap rented room, and no matter how many times you'd been out there before, it was no help, it was even worse because you had got to thinking you wouldn't face it again. All you could do was light another cigarette, pour another drink, check the peeling walls for lips and eyes. What men and women did to each other was beyond comprehension. — Charles Bukowski

Evan Connell said once that he knew he was finished with a short story when he found himself going through it and taking out commas and then going through the story again and putting the commas back in the same places. I like that way of working on something. I respect that kind of care for what is being done. That's all we have, finally, the words, and they had better be the right ones, with the punctuation in the right places so that they an best say what they are meant to say. If the words are heavy with the writer's own unbridled emotions, or if they are imprecise and inaccurate for some other reason
if the worlds are in any way blurred
the reader's eyes will slide right over them and nothing will be achieved. Henry James called this sort of hapless writing 'weak specification'. — Raymond Carver

The divorce has lasted way longer than the marriage, but finally it's over.
Enough about that.The point is that for a long time, the fact that I was divorced was the most important thing about me.And now it's not. — Nora Ephron

Now he saw another elephant emerge from the place where it had stood hidden in the trees. Very slowly it walked to the mutilated body and looked down. With its sinuous trunk it struck the huge corpse; then it reached up, broke some leafy branches with a snap, and draped them over the mass of torn thick flesh. Finally it tilted its massive head, raised its trunk, and roared into the empty landscape. — Lois Lowry

It was the seventh of November, 1918. The war was finally over. Maybe it would be declared a holiday and named War's End Day or something equally hopeful and wrong. Wars would break out again. Violence was part of human nature as much as love and generosity. — Claire Holden Rothman

It was awful, but it's over. And now I feel like I'm finally coming up for air."
"Yes, well, it's been a very stressful time for both of us," said Leonard.
"How has it been stressful for you? said Holly.
"I had that move."
Holly just looked at him.
"What," said Leonard.
"You moved apartments" said Holly. — Sarah Dunn

It was the mutual study of the Spear and the significance of its legend and their strikingly opposite views about it which finally parted these inseperable friends
the master musician (Wagner) and the cynnical philosopher (Nietzsche). A parting which led them both to experience a bitter and pathetic lonliness, and later a growing hatred and contempt for one another which spilled over into a stormy controversy to shatter the emerging Pan-Germanic mystic-pagan idealism to its very foundations. — Trevor Ravenscroft

He tightened his arms, not wanting Ty to move away. "It's more than just fucking around now," he said. "Isn't it?" He made sure the tone of his voice emphasized that it wasn't really a question. Ty was motionless in response. He didn't even seem to be breathing. The silence stretched on, edging toward tension. Finally, he let out his breath quietly and lowered his head. "No," he lied blithely, just as he'd done in a hotel in New York City over a year ago. Zane chuckled. A classic Grady response, and definitely the one he preferred to hear. A "yes" just might have given him a heart attack. He held Ty close. "You owe me." "Owe you?" Ty repeated in a rough, questioning voice as Zane felt his heartbeat begin to speed up. "Mm hmm. How I've wanted you," Zane breathed. "It scares the hell out of me." "I know," Ty murmured as he turned in place and nuzzled against Zane's neck. — Abigail Roux

When it finally came up over the battered Baal's Heart, the sun shone down on a sadly diminished crew. Three men were dead from injuries sustained aboard, and another five were missing. Tom was numbered among those presumed swept overboard by the fury of the storm. — Bey Deckard

Sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get it going, I would sit in front of the fire and squeeze the peel of the little oranges into the edge of the flame and watch the sputter of blue that they made. I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, "Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there. It was easy then because there was always one true sentence that I knew or had seen or had heard someone say. If I started to write elaborately, or like someone introducing or presenting something, I found that I could cut that scrollwork or ornament out and throw it away and start with the first true simple declarative sentence I had written. — Ernest Hemingway,

Paradise was always over there, a day's sail away. But it's a funny thing, escapism. You can go far and wide and you can keep moving on and on through places and years, but you never escape your own life. I, finally, knew where my life belonged. Home. — J. Maarten Troost

Over the years, I've learned that the first idea you have is irrelevant. It's just a catalyst for you to get started. Then you figure out what's wrong with it and you go through phases of denial, panic, regret. And then you finally have a better idea and the second idea is always the important one. — Jessica Livingston

It's like the world's gravitational pull has just lessened tenfold. Everything trapped in me, rushing in and out like the ocean against a jetty - pounding over and over, trying to crush the breaker wall with each rhythmic explosion - has finally been taken away. I cry for that and I'm not sure what else. — Nic Sheff

I pride myself on being able to read whole chapters into a single syllable, you know? What girl doesn't? So when Lennon said "Hi", I ran through a whole list of possibilities. Was it, "Hi, I wish you were Chloe instead of Riley so I could make up with you"? Or did he mean, "You look exactly like the girl I'm totally over, so get out of my sight"? Or was it just, "Hi, I hope you're not as down on me as your sister is and, by the way, could you be careful not to spill anything, either"? But none of those sounded right. Finally I had to admit that he might have just been trying to say hello. Call me crazy, but it could be true! — Megan Stine

I was finally beginning to perceive that no matter how many dead people I might see, or people at the instant of their death, I would never manage to grasp death, that very moment, precisely in itself. It was one thing or the other: either you are dead, and then in any case there's nothing else to understand, or else you are not yet dead, and in that case, even with the rifle at the back of your head or the rope around your neck, death remains incomprehensible, a pure abstraction, this absurd idea that I, the only living person in the world, could disappear. Dying, we may already be dead, but we never die, that moment never comes, or rather it never stops coming, there it is, it's coming, and then it's still coming, and then it's already over, without ever having come. — Jonathan Littell

Every time I create something, whether an idea or a work of art, initially, its supposed completion seems absolutely perfect to me. However the more I think about it, stare it down, the more it marinates in my soul over the hours, days, and weeks, the more flaws I start to find in it; and finally, the more I'm pressed to continue enhancing it. It essentially turns out that whatever thing a flawed and imperfect, human eye once thought was amazing begins to appear quite wretched. This is why, eternally, God cannot be impressed by mere talents or by mortal achievements. To perfect eyes, I imagine that great is not really that great; rather, humility is ultimately a human being's true greatness. — Criss Jami

Don't be afraid to write bad songs and then start over and re-evaluate. Songs are like plants, in that you grow them. Some grow really fast, and others need pruning and care ... And, finally, a song needs to move you. If it doesn't move you, it will never move anybody else. — Corey Harris

Privacy is rarely lost in one fell swoop. It is usually eroded over time, little bits dissolving almost imperceptibly until we finally begin to notice how much is gone. — Daniel J. Solove

Well, possibly," I said, feeling my lips twitch again. "But maybe first you would tell us why you chose to manifest yourself in the form of Shirley Temple as last seen on the 'Good Ship Lollipop'?"
The demon twirled around, its big pink sash fluttering as it smoothed down its dress and frilly little petticoat. "My grotesque form isn't making you sick with fright?"
We both shook our heads, Noelle with a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. "Shirley Temple at her pinnacle was frightening," I finally told it, "but not in the sense I think you mean. — Katie MacAlister

His face churned. That was the point, before he said a word, that he broke her heart. The contortion of those muscles paraded a decision over whether to tell her the truth. Once he finally spoke, Lawrence's opting for the honesty route didn't nearly compensate for the fact that candor had been a choice. For an alternative direction to have beckoned, it was probably well trod. — Lionel Shriver

It's actually been more like a 50-year interruption, he thought. A boy goes out fishing and has a lot of fun, and then suddenly one day his whole boring adult life starts up, with all its obligations. Fifty years later the interruption is finally over, and he can go back to fishing again. — Vidar Sundstol

Her shoulders shuddered. I realized she had begun to cry. The tears ran down her face, trickling in with the blood over the bruises. "My sister was brought to this country as a slave,"she said. "She spent the final months of her life being treated like a piece of meat until finally a rich man paid to see a girl get her throat slit. The indignity of such a thing is beyond imagination."She drew in a watery breath. "Unless I took care of it personally, I knew that I would never feel like her honor had been avenged. — Joe Schreiber

Everybody said the same thing over and over again with infinite variations but over and over again until finally if you listened with great intensity you could hear it rise and fall and tell all that there was inside them, not so much by the actual words they said or the thoughts they had but the movement of their thoughts and words endlessly the same and endlessly different. — Gertrude Stein

Why would you believe in me at all?"
He moved to lean forward on the railing, forearms folded with the blade dangling down over the river, his face in profile. Finally, he said, "I trust you."
"You shouldn't."
"I know," he muttered.
She heard the strain in his voice. His eyes cut to her, and she saw that he knew she had heard it. His body shifted into a position of determined nonchalance. "Logically speaking," he said lightly, "the idea that you hired someone to attack me doesn't make much sense. I'm not sure what your motive would be."
"I could have wanted to put an end to the rumors."
"That would be a shame. I like the rumors."
"Don't joke. — Marie Rutkoski

I wrote 'Lakeside View Apartment Suites' with Roman in my arms. He was about a month old. I was playing left-handed and finally handed him over. On the demo of it, you can hear him crying in the next room. — John Darnielle

I ended up at fifty, over-the-hill, thinking I had no future. Finally, I realized that I had allowed myself to write less than I could ... As writers true to ourselves, it will always be hard, and if we're good, we'll always be in trouble. Let's be sure we deserve it. — Waldo Salt

A thoughtful expression crossed the woman's damp face. "I used to beat myself up over my body. What woman doesn't?" She paused, as if thinking about her words. "I finally decided I'd had enough. It was time to believe in me, without shame. I still slip up and have doubts. But for the most part, I take pride in who I am. — Abby Niles

A petition to have Justin Bieber deported got over 100,000 signatures, which means the White House now has to legally rule on it. So finally a chance for Obama to issue an executive order that both Republicans and Democrats can agree on. — Jay Leno

I'd distract myself until finally it was a combination of things. The show was over and I had time on my hands. I had taken time and played and just relaxed. — Paul Reiser

crossed borders like the wind. Yet it had happened, and Khristo finally understood how it had happened. Moving across the countryside made one prey, over time, to a series of small mishaps, none of them serious in and of itself, but cumulative over time. A few hours of sleep when one could manage it, a meal now and then, the insidious chill of the early spring, the constant forcing of the mind into a state of vigilance when all one craved was numbness, when not to think about anything seemed the most exquisite luxury the world had to offer. — Alan Furst

I've learned several lessons over the years. First, never take yourself too seriously, or work is boring. Next, people make the difference. You can have great technology, but if it's not complemented by great people, it won't go anywhere. Finally, customers buy from people they like. — John W. Thompson

That's how the world works, doesn't it?"
"That's how it can work. You're such a snob,Brian."
He looked up,flabbergasted. "What?"
"You're such a snob,and the worst kind of snob-the kind who thinks he's broad-minded. Now that I know that,you don't bother me at all."
The stable phone rang,delighting her. Whoever was on the other end not only had perfect timing but they had her gratitude.It gave her great pleasure to see the absolute shock on Brian's face as she walked to the phone.
"Royal Meadows Riding Academy. Would you hold one moment,please." With a friendly smile,she laid a hand over the receiver. "Really,I can finish up here.I'm keeping you from your work."
"I'm not a snob," he finally managed to say.
"Of course you wouldn't see it that way. Can we discuss this another time? I need to take this call."
Irked,he shoved the scoop back in the grain. "I'm not the one wearing bloody diamonds in my ears," he muttered as he stalked out. — Nora Roberts

By the River Piedra I sat down and wept. There is a legend that everything that falls into the waters of this river
leaves, insects, the feathers of birds
is transformed into the rocks that make the riverbed. If only I could tear out my heart and hurl it into the current, then my pain and longing would be over, and I could finally forget. — Paulo Coelho

There were eleven publishers in New York City, and when it was all over, I think it went down to four or five, and then finally just the three of them, the Big Three. — Dan DeCarlo

Mankind's perception of color, he says, increased "according to the schema of the color spectrum": first came the sensitivity to red, then to yellow, then to green, and only finally to blue and violet. The most remarkable thing about it all, he adds, is that this development seems to have occurred in exactly the same order in different cultures all over the world. Thus, in Geiger's hands, Gladstone's discoveries about — Guy Deutscher

Grief reunites you with what you've lost. It's a merging; you go with the loved thing or person that's going away. You follow it a far as you can go.
But finally,the grief goes away and you phase back into the world. Without him.
And you can accept that. What the hell choice is there? You cry, you continue to cry, because you don't ever completely come back from where you went with him
a fragment broken off your pulsing, pumping heart is there still. A cut that never heals.
And if, when it happens to you over and over again in life, too much of your heart does finally go away, then you can't feel grief any more. And then you yourself are ready to die. You'll walk up the inclined ladder and someone else will remain behind grieving for you. — Philip K. Dick

That ought to do it.' He stood up and held out his hand to her, but she ignored it, rolling over so that she could sit on the grassy knoll. He stood there awkwardly until she patted the spot on the grass next to her. He hesitated, and Belle finally groaned and slapped her down on the ground with considerable force. 'Oh, please,' she said in a semi-irritated voice. 'I'm not going to bite.' John sat down. — Julia Quinn

Wiping his mouth and tossing the napkin on the table, Wake leaned on his elbow and studied Kabe, long and hard.

Long and hard enough that Kabe started to stare back.

Finally, Wake blurted out, "So have you found God?" I thought Kabe was going to swallow his straw.

Kabe licked his lips. "Joe's been talking to me about religion." I had no idea what was about to come out of his mouth. "Out alone, having some real deep, personal conversations. I think Joe has figured out how to get right inside me and know what I need."

"We all need to hear it."

"Touched me real far inside," My chest tightened up. I twisted my ankle and dropped my boot heel onto the arch of his foot. He yanked it back and leaned over the table a little.

"All burning with it."

My chair scraped the floor as I stood. "Know what, we need to be heading out. — James Buchanan

The GPS unit became almost equally obstreperous, though, over Richard's unauthorized route change, until they finally passed over some invisible cybernetic watershed between two possible ways of getting to their destination, and it changed its fickle little mind and began calmly telling him which way to proceed as if this had been its idea all along. — Neal Stephenson

We are always held in the love of God. We are never wholly at the mercy of other people - they are only "second causes," and no matter how many second or third or fiftieth causes seem to be in control of what happens to us, it is God who is in charge, He who holds the keys, He who casts the lot finally into the lap. Trusting Him, then, requires that I leave some things to be decided by others. I must learn to relinquish the control I might wield over somebody else if the decision properly belongs to him. I must resist my urge to manipulate him, needle and prod and pester until he capitulates. I must trust God in him, trust God to do for both of us better than I know. — Elisabeth Elliot

This is a little awkward," I said, "but my mother just ran over the rabbit."
"Ran over?"
"As in roadkill. We're not sure what to do about it."
"Where are you?"
"Giovichinni's, buying lunch meat."
"And the rabbit?"
"Gone. He was with two other guys. They scooped him up off the road and drove away with him."
There was a long silence on the phone. "I'm fucking speechless," Morelli finally said. — Janet Evanovich

Could've understood wanting Cam as a security blanket after everything they'd been through, but that wasn't it. Austin fucked the man under him harder and faster, not because it provided comfort, but because he fucking loved him. He didn't know if he'd fallen completely; he didn't feel like reading into it anyway, but he finally knew where he was headed - where this was headed. "Let me make you come." He kissed Cam 'til they were both breathless. Austin was on the brink of orgasm, too. "Christ." He sucked on Cam's bottom lip as his balls drew up and tightened, as the familiar tingling sensation traveled down his spine, and as he buried his cock deep in Cam's ass over and over and over. "Close," Cam gritted — Cara Dee

I heard an old man speak once, someone who had been sober for fifty years, a very prominent doctor. He said that he'd finally figured out a few years ago that his profound sense of control, in the world and over his life, is another addiction and a total illusion. He said that when he sees little kids sitting in the back seat of cars, in those car seats that have steering wheels, with grim expressions of concentration on their faces, clearly convinced that their efforts are causing the car to do whatever it is doing, he thinks of himself and his relationship with God: God who drives along silently, gently amused, in the real driver's seat. — Anne Lamott

Love is a powerful tool, and maybe, just maybe, before the last little town is corrupted and the last of the unroaded and undeveloped wildness is given over to dreams of profit, maybe it will be love, finally, love for the land for its own sake and for what it holds of beauty and joy and spiritual redemption that will make [wilderness] not a battlefield but a revelation. — T. H. Watkins

I was actually pretty miserable in high school. I couldn't wait for it to be over. And when it finally was, I remember sitting at graduation with all these classmates getting nostalgic and emotional already and all I could think was, "Get me out of here. I never want to see you people again." So it's ironic that I spend half my day putting myself back there by choice [while writing]. — Sarah Dessen

Then he leaned over and kissed his wife, holding his breath as if it could hold the moment, as well, as if this single kiss could keep his wife and family and everything he loved from ever coming to harm, from ever leaving him alone. "What was that for?" Connie asked when their lips finally separated... "For everything I don't know how to say with words. — Jason Mott

I was just sitting in Target, just getting over my cold. I blew my nose and I see these people looking at me and kind of whispering and pointing. Finally, I went, 'Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? Do I have a booger on my face and no one's telling me?' I'm just not used to it. — Atticus Shaffer

One of the questions I have been asked many times since this story broke is this: Now that the facts are out there, what can we do? My answer, depressing and cynical as it may be, is always the same. Not much. Not now. And certainly not until the American public and its Congressional representatives regain control of the CIA and shred the curtain of secrecy that keeps us from discovering these crimes of state until its too late.
Perhaps when the government officials who presided over these outrages are safely in their crypts, and their apologists and cheerleaders are buried woth them, future historians can finally call these men to account for the miseries they caused. Even if that's all that ever happens, it will be fitting and just, because the favorable judgment of history is ultimately what they craved. — Gary Webb

But I knew it was pure masturbation, because down in my gut I wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a bright room and something solid to call my own at least until I got tired of it. There was an awful suspicion in my mind that I'd finally gone over the hump, and the worst thing about it was that I didn't feel tragic at all, but only weary, and sort of comfortably detatched. — Hunter S. Thompson

Life is a relentless expulsion from where we come from and an ongoing deportation to alien realms. We are in exile and our greatest dream is to return to the lost land. It is the greatest dream because no matter how long our exile is going to last, the dream will remain. It is the greatest dream because when we finally care only for this dream, then our exile will be over. — Franco Santoro

When I finally accept it, the truth stings. But there's no time to dwell on it, and there are only two choices: I can remind myself about someone who is not a part of my life, or I can leave him out of my notes to save myself from going through this all over again tomorrow. — Cat Patrick

Oh my God! I shouted, smacking at myself to get it off. The chanting abruptly stopped as I danced about the interior of the circle, beating the chunky dust off me. It only made things worse, and I began coughing on someone's dead grandmother. My eyes watered, and I finally gave up, glaring at them from around my hair, now all over the place. Damn it, I was covered in strawberries and human remains. — Kim Harrison

I missed him," she said finally.
I put my hand over hers and sat down, pulling my chair closer. "I know," I said softly.
"You came back from Florida feeling really good, and then you find out he's such a rat bastard that he - "
"No," she said distractedly, interrupting me. "I missed him. All those Ensures, and not
a one made contact. I have terrible aim." And then she sighed. "Even just one would have made it
better. Somehow. — Sarah Dessen

But he hadn't appeared that night. Not the next morning, either. By the time she finally crossed paths with him the following afternoon, his mumbled "Merry Christmas" was the extent of their exchange.
It seemed they were back to silence.
I don't want you.
She tried to ignore the words echoing in her memory. They weren't true, she told herself. She was an expert at deceit; she knew a lie when she heard one.
Still. What else to believe, when he avoided her thus?
Although he rarely spoke to her over the next two days, Sophia frequently overheard him speaking of her. Even these remarks were the tersest of commands: "Fetch Miss Turner more water," or "See that her canopy doesn't go slack." She felt herself being tended, not unlike a goat. Fed, watered, sheltered. Perhaps she shouldn't complain. Food, water, and shelter were all welcome things.
But Sophia was not livestock, and she had other, more profound needs. Needs he seemed intent on neglecting, the infuriating man. — Tessa Dare

Don't you find that strange? I can't believe I never found it strange before. It's like your name, how you don't notice it for so long, but when you finally do, you can't help but say it over and over, and wonder why you never thought it was strange that you should have that name, and that everyone has been calling you that name for you whole life. — Jonathan Safran Foer

Never had the opportunity in her first lost childhood; and in the intervening years her desire for it had doubled over and doubled over like a katana being forged until finally it was sharper than the truth. — Junot Diaz

And wasn't it this bright boy you selected for beating and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for their are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against. So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man's mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? Me? I won't stomach them for a minute. And so when houses were finally fireproofed completely, all over the world (you were correct in your assumption the other night) there was no longer need of firemen for the old purposes. They were given the new job, as custodians of our peace of mind, the focus of our understandable and rightful dread of being inferior: official censors, judges and executors. That's you, Montag, and that's me. — Ray Bradbury

They were best friends and partners who'd finally gotten over all the bullshit and had come to terms with the mutual attraction, deciding that fucking was better than always being so tense about it. That was the end of the story. — Santino Hassell

Finally, I found what seemed at the time to be a lid of some sort. Presuming it was a toilet seat (but not really caring one way or the other) I lifted it up, then dropped my shorts and began to piss. Ahhh ... success. Then I stumbled back to bed and passed out. It wasn't until the next morning that I realized what had actually happened. I woke to the sight of Junior standing over my bed with a look of disgust on his face. Hey, man. Did you pee in my suitcase? — Dave Mustaine

Gentleman Jim [dog] was cheerful enough, partly because his owner was so well trained... He had alsot trained him to get up when he didn't want to, simply by climbing slowly and painfully on top of him and squeezing all the breath out of him as he slept. On the occasions this didn't work and Gordon seemed to be simply lapsing into a coma, Gentleman Jim would unroll his massive tongue, containing over a half a pint of drool, and dribble it slowly into his ear until Gordon finally awoke... — Livi Michael

Sally was on the first floor reading a book, one that she normally wouldn't read, and she felt quite guilty. Twilight. She knew the series was ridiculous but everyone was going crazy over the books and the movies. She'd finally given in and decided that it wouldn't hurt to just read a little bit. — Anjela Renee

Over the course of six decades, some six million black southerners left the land of their forefathers and fanned out across the country for an uncertain existence in nearly every other corner of America. The Great Migration would become a turning point in history. It would transform urban America and recast the social and political order of every city it touched. It would force the South to search its soul and finally to lay aside a feudal caste system. It grew out of the unmet promises made after the Civil War and, through the sheer weight of it, helped push the country toward the civil rights revolutions of the 1960s. — Isabel Wilkerson

There comes a point, in any kind of, whether it's in your family discussions or business or whatever, where you finally have to get over the making of the points and now let's see if we can find common ground. — Jon Kyl

Exploration! Exploring the past! We students in the camps seminar considered ourselves radical explorers. We tore open the windows and let in the air, the wind that finally whirled away the dust that society had permitted to settle over the horrors of the past. We made sure people could see. And we placed no reliance on legal scholarship. It was evident to us that there had to be convictions. It was just as evident as conviction of this or that camp guard or police enforcer was only the prelude. The generation that had been served by the guards and enforcers, or had done nothing to stop them, or had not banished them from its midst as it could have done after 1945, was in the dock, and we explored it, subjected it to trial by daylight, and condemned it to shame. — Bernhard Schlink

Whether we accept it or not, this will likely be the century that determines what the optimal human population is for our planet. It will come about in one of two ways:
Either we decide to manage our own numbers, to avoid a collision of every line on civilization's graph - or nature will do it for us, in the form of famines, thirst, climate chaos, crashing ecosystems, opportunistic disease, and wars over dwindling resources that finally cut us down to size. — Alan Weisman

You're scaring me," Jack's voice finally cut through, and I opened my eyes, barely able to see him. "okay, good, yes, breathe. Breathing helps one stay alive,I've found.What on earth is so bad about a stupid school saying no?" "My life"-I gasped-"is over.It's over. Everything." He frowned dubiously. "Who would want to go to a place called Georgetown, anyhow? Ridiculous. Now,I could understand your devastation if it had a distinguished name like, say, Jacktown, but as it is,you're overreacting. Why do you want to go to more school? I went once for a few hours and nearly lost my mind. — Kiersten White

Finally, the damn meeting was over and Hunter couldn't wait to get the hell out there. If he left now, he could make it home in under an hour. Home to Lila. — Eve Vaughn

The water temperature finally rose, so I stepped in, and he followed me. It shouldn't have surprised me that our primary focus wasn't on getting cleaned up. We let the water run over us, and there was some soap involved, but mostly, we just lazily made out while we ran soap-slick hands over each other's bodies. I was too exhausted to get turned on, and he probably was too, but this? This was absolute heaven. Wet, slippery skin against wet, slippery skin, our mouths moving together like we planned to do this all night - it didn't get any better than this. — L.A. Witt

Imagine what it would be like for our descendants to experience the fall of civilization. Imagine failures of reasonableness so total that our largest bombs finally fall upon our largest cities in defense of our religious differences. What would it be like for the unlucky survivors of such a holocaust to look back upon the hurtling career of human stupidity that led them over the precipice? A view from the end of the world would surely find that the six billion of us currently alive did much to pave the way to the Apocalypse. — Sam Harris

Every decent director has only one subject, and finally only makes the same film over and over again. My subject is the exploitability of feelings, whoever might be the one exploiting them. It never ends. It's a permanent theme. Whether the state exploits patriotism, or whether in a couple relationship, one partner destroys the other. — Rainer Werner Fassbinder

The next day the German police picked them up, loaded them onto an armored truck and took them back to Colditz. Alexander was badly beaten by the German guards and taken to solitary, where he spent so long he lost track of time. With Pasha's death came the death of faith. Release me, Tatiana, release me, forgive me, forget me, let me forget you. I want to be free of you, free of your face, free of your freedom, free of your fire, free, free, free. The flight across the ocean was over, and with it all the warmth of his imagination. A numbness encroached on him, freezing him from the heart out, the anesthetic of despair creeping its tentacles over his ten-dons and his arteries, over his nerves and his veins until he was stiff inside and bereft of hope and bereft of Tatiana. Finally. But not quite. — Paullina Simons

In the early days of marriage, joy precedes the act. Tragically, as the years go by joy can be severed from the act until finally, the act itself is no more. This ought not to be. Over time it is the companionship that brings joy, and service is the natural outworking of the joy of commitment. Failure to act kills it. — Ravi Zacharias

The Republicans finally got some good news over the weekend. The North Koreans set off a nuclear bomb. Thank God. It was so powerful it knocked the Mark Foley story right off the front page. And knocked him off the page he was on, too. — Jay Leno

For the Persian poet Rumi, each human life is analogous to a bowl floating on the surface of an infinite ocean. As it moves along, it is slowly filling with the water around it. That's a metaphor for the acquisition of knowledge. When the water in the bowl finally reaches the same level as the water outside, there is no longer any need for the container, and it drops away as the inner water merges with the outside water. We call this the moment of death. That analogy returns to me over and over as a metaphor for ourselves. — Bill Viola

Ben," Max said, leaning back in his chair with a giant grin. "It's finally happened."
I groaned, resting my head on my hand.
"You got your period?" Bennett asked. "Congratulations."
"No, you twat," Max said, laughing. "I'm talking about Will. He's gone arse over tits for a girl. — Christina Lauren

The sky grows dark over the city as Janey tells me her story. Teh beast was supposed to help their community. Something that would look good in a brochure, I suppose. But instead, it cut loose, took out in to the Williamsburg night. Janey and the kids went after it , and when they finally caught up what does it do? The thing ate a hipster. — Daniel Jose Older

What's the truth? The truth is what happened to you and him or her, over the years, and what didn't happen. The truth is what you said and didn't say, how much you tried, how you changed, and whether you were lucky. I believe in luck. I think luck plays a huge part in success. Or failure. In the end, who cares about the truth? You still end up divorced. Finally, the biggest asshole wins. Sort of. At least the biggest asshole takes home the must stuff. If you consider this winning then have at it. You're an asshole. — Margaret Overton

She looks up. I've caught her by surprise. Her face opens up and all of a sudden it's like that paper mask is transparent. I'm looking right through it, and I get a flash of some kind of life we could've had - barbecues, dogs, kids flopping over us in bed - it rolls through me fast but strong and clear, like one of those cooking smells that blows in the window so sharp you can pick out the ingredients. And then it's gone. It's gone, and Holly's holding my hand. Finally, after that long long wait, her hand is back on mine. Dry cool fingers, slim. The rings loose. I close my eyes. My hand is so hot, I feel my pulse in every finger. I'm afraid she'll let go but she doesn't let go. She keeps her hand around mine and it's like she's holding all of me in her cool sweetness, calming my fever back down. — Jennifer Egan

He wanted to impart some of the truths Bruce Denton had taught him, that you dont' become a runner by winning a morning workout. The only true way is to marshal the ferocity of your ambition over the course of many days, weeks, months, and (if you could finally come to accept it) years. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials. How could he make them understand? — John L. Parker Jr.

Stuart Maxwell told me in a shaky voice that the first time Cheyenne picked him out as her victim for the kissing game, it had been like a nightmare as he'd found himself cornered by the circle of girls, only to see Cheyenne's lips coming closer and closer, until finally the smell of cranberry Kiehl's lip balm had overwhelmed him.
'And that's when,' Stuart told me in a horrified voice, 'I knew it was all over. — Meg Cabot

He shows me that, and I feel it, as he holds me tightly, making love to me. I'm sweaty, and exhausted, by the time it's over. My body is spent from orgasms, and my heart feels like it goes to explode. I say nothing, though, afraid to speak, afraid to offer him any words. Because if I do, I might spew a fucking rainbow. I might spout out the kind of nonsense found in Napoleon's romance novella.
Naz lies on top of me for a moment after he finishes before finally pulling out. He stands up, gathering our clothes, tossing mine to me as I lay on the bed.
"I'm sure now," I manage to say, as I watch Naz getting dressed.
He turns to me. "Yeah?"
I nod as I sit up, clutching a hold of my necklace. "I've got everything I want. — J.M. Darhower

I love touring. I can't wait. Everything is just normal when you're finally on tour. I think, for me, it's my happiest thing; I love moving around, and I have friends and family all over the place. It's kind of my time. It's almost like home. It's when I get to see everybody. — Alison Mosshart

Derek's change came faster now and maybe a bit easier
no vomiting this time. Finally it was over, and he fell onto his side, panting, shaking, and shivering. Then he reached for my hand, holding it tight, and I entwined my fingers with his, shifting closer and using my free hand to brush sweaty hair from his face.
"Whoa," a voice said, making both of us jump. Simon stood in the entrance to our corner, a pile of fabric in his hands. "You really need to get dressed before you start that."
"I'm not starting anything," Derek said.
"Still ... " He held out the stack in his hands. "Dr. Fellows dug up some hospital greens for you. Get dressed and then ... whatever — Kelley Armstrong

No, it didn't hurt. He didn't want to lose any black hair, and he was careful to pull out the white hairs one by one. But when he had finished, the skin was drawn and shriveled. It hurt when you ran your hand over it, the doctor said. It didn't bleed, but it was raw and red. Finally he was put in a mental hospital ... He didn't want to be old, he wanted to be young again. No one seems to know whether he started pulling it out because he had lost his mind, or he lost his mind because he pulled out too much. — Yasunari Kawabata