Finally Smiling Again Quotes & Sayings

Sometimes all our plans for life go to shit. You end up doing something you never dreamed of and you know what you do? You make the best out of it you can. Nothing is ever as good or as bad as you think it will be. It's what you make of it. — Nichole Chase

He existed for me, and after all it is only through me that he exists for you. — Joseph Conrad

She had been married to a man who had never bored her and these people bored her very much — Ernest Hemingway,

You can love other people only to the degree that you've come to love and accept yourself — Shakti Gawain

I want to be haunted...Haunt me...Come and put your arms around me...Or, if you can't do that, just look at me. That's all I need. Where are you? Not here. But I can't feel you gone either...I keep looking for you. I forget. I feel stupid...Haunt me, find me, come back from wherever you are. Be with me. I'm afraid. — Audrey Niffenegger

I knew it. I just knew it." We had been robbed after all. — Rebecca Stead

Finally, he backs off and looks at me, smiling. "First time you've been kissed by a man, Puss? A real man?"
I come back to my senses and says, breathlessly, "Put out the fire, Jared."
"If you mean the fire down below, Jacky, that will never go out ... ," he says, coming for me again.
"The fire on the desk, you fool! — L.A. Meyer

Adrian", I whispered, my tears starting to flow faster.
His head snapped up
and then he moved with his incredible speed, gripping me in those powerful arms. Tilting my head back and covering my mouth in a bruising kiss that made joy rip through me with all the intensity of the pain I'd felt before. When he finally broke away several minutes later, I could hardly breathe, but I still managed to speak.
"I love you," I choked out. "I love you, I love you, I love you
"
His kiss cut me off again, and this time, I wasn't crying when I kissed him back. I was smiling. — Jeaniene Frost

Love reigns a very tyrant in my heart. — Thomas Otway

You are sauntering along the back streets of Avallon; you step into a tavern for a cup of wine. A great lummox claims that you have molested his wife; he takes up his cutlass and comes at you. So now! With your knife! Draw and throw! All in a single movement! You advance, pull your knife from the villain's neck, wipe it on his sleeve. If in fact you have molested the dead churl's wife, bid her begone! The episode has quite dampened your spirit. But you are attacked from another side by another husband. Quick! — Jack Vance

What is the fire that burns in your heart? If you are lucky enough to discover it, than by all means fan the flames and let the fire be the guiding light for a life worth living. — Mary Lou Retton

He stared at her again and then smiled a big, goofy smile. "I didn't really think of it like that." He looked lost in thought for a minute and finally, a mischievous grin formed on his face. "Wait here a minute."
He got up and left. He returned a few minutes later and handed her something. A piece of paper, folded too many times.
"What's this?" She took it from him, amused and smiling with curiosity.
He sat down next to her and shrugged. "I dunno, some guy asked me to give it to you."
She tentatively started unfolding, looking up at him with each bend of the paper. Just before the last fold, she could see the crude handwriting inside, as if it were written by a child. She lifted the sheet, opening it up fully and stared at it.
Danarya, will you go with me?
Please mark the box
Yes [ ] or No [ ]
Paul

"Oh my gosh!" she squealed with delight. She burst out laughing. "I haven't received one of these since fifth grade. — S. Jackson Rivera

He thought, that all men, trickled away, changing constantly, until they finally dissolved, while the artist-created images remained unchangeably the same. He thought that the fear of death was perhaps the root of all art, perhaps also of all things of the mind. We fear death, we shudder at life's instability, we grieve to see the flowers wilt again and again, and the leaves fall, and in our hearts we know that we, too, are transitory and will search for laws and formulate thoughts, it is in order to salvage something from the great dance of death, to make something that lasts longer than we do. Perhaps the woman after whom the master shaped his beautiful Madonna is already wilted or dead, and soon he, too, will be dead; others will live in his house and eat at his table- but his work will still be standing hundreds of years from now, and longer. It will go on shimmering in the quiet cloister church, unchangingly beautiful, forever smiling with the same sad, flowering mouth. — Hermann Hesse

Maybe, someday we all will come out of those beautiful and warm shelters we have built around us and open our arms to the storms, smiling at them. Maybe, we all will finally let them take us all and throw in the middle of nowhere. Where nobody knows each other anymore, and we are all strangers again. — Akshay Vasu

I write for myself. I don't write because I have a record coming out. I write because I want to. I need to. — Hunter Hayes

People would ask, "Why don't you put her in a nursing home?" I always answered, "I feel it is my responsibility, because she's my wife and Heather's mother. I love her and it's my job to take care of her for as long as I physically and mentally can."
Every day, I would rush home at lunch, prepare her something to eat and drive her around a little, too. She loved to ride in the car and that seemed to keep her smiling. By late October, she had really gone down. We were playing Ole Miss in Oxford, in a game that is probably best remembered for David Palmer replacing an injured Jay Barker and putting on a show that had Heisman voters buzzing.
Sadly, what I remember most was getting off the team plane and calling home. Charlotte didn't answer and I began to panic and started calling some of our neighbors. I finally reached one of the neighbors and she went to the house and found Charlotte just staring ahead. I don't think Charlotte ever answered the phone again. — Mal Moore With Steve Townsend

Learn diligence before speedy execution. — Leonardo Da Vinci

I write your name for the last time in this mist,
White breath on the windowpane,
And watch it vanish. No, it stays there. — Charles Wright