He Belongs To Me Quotes & Sayings

She was still hugging the cat. "Poor slob," she said, tickling his head, "poor slob without a name. It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven't any right to give him one: he'll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don't belong to each other: he's an independent, and so am I. I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together. I'm not quite sure where that is just yet. But I know what it's like." She smiled, and let the cat drop to the floor. "It's like Tiffany's," she said.
[ ... ]
It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's, then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name. — Truman Capote

I had been kissed once by someone I liked. His name was Ray and he was Indian. He had an accent and was dark. I wasn't supposed to like him. Clarissa called his large eyes, with their half closed lids, "freak-a-delic," but he was nice and smart and helped me cheat on my algebra exam while pretending he hadn't. He kissed me by my locker the day before we turned in our photos for the yearbook. When the yearbook came out at the end of the summer, I saw that under his picture he had answered the standard "My heart belongs to" with "Susie Salmon." I guess he had had plans. I remember his lips were chapped. — Alice Sebold

You scratch whatever itches you choose," Charles told her, his voice cold and quiet."Enjoy yourself. But at the end of the day, you remember that Isaac belongs to my father - and to me. He is necessary to us as you are not. You will leave him unharmed or I will hunt you down and destroy you. — Patricia Briggs

We were interrupted by a girl with a strawberry birthmark on her nose; she had some papers in her hand and asked if we had signed the petition for the imprisoned Argentinean comrades. Belbo signed without reading it. "They're even worse of than I am," he said to Diotallevi, who was regarding him with a bemused expression. "He can't sign," Belbo said to the girl. "He belongs to a small Indian sect that forbids its members to write their own names. Many of them are in jail because of government persecution." The girl looked sympathetically at Diotallevi and passed the petition to me.
"And who are they?" I asked.
"What do you mean, who are they? Argentinean comrades."
"But what group do they belong to?"
"The Tacuarus, I think."
"The Tacuarus are fascists," I said. As if I knew one group from the other.
"Fascist pig," the girl hissed at me. She left. — Umberto Eco

There in bed, happiness comes over me. Not like something that belongs to me, but like a wheel of fire rolling through the room and the world. For a moment I think I'll manage to let it pass and be able to lie there, aware of what I have, and not wish for anything more. The next moment I want to hang on. I want it to continue. He has to lie beside me tomorrow, too. This is my chance. My only, my last chance. I swing my legs onto the floor. Now I'm panic-stricken. This is what I've been working to avoid for thirty-seven years. I've systematically practiced the only thing in the world that is worth learning. How to renounce. I've stopped hoping for anything. When experienced humility becomes an Olympic discipline, I'll be on the national team. I've never had any patience for other people's unhappy love affairs. I hate their weakness. — Peter Hoeg

But the whites do not think this way
they prefer to forget that everything they want already belongs to someone else. They think, 'Oh I am white, this must be mine.' And they believe it Tiehteti. I have never seen a white person who did not look surprised when you killed them." He shrugged. "Me, when I steal something, I expect the person to try to kill me, and I know the song I will sing when I die. — Philipp Meyer

Every inch of you belongs to me," Afron whispered. "From your ears"
he nibbled delicately at one
"to your lips"
another nibble
"to your chest"
a swipe of his tongue met Makara's flesh
"to your belly"
a lingering tickle of the tip of Afron's tongue in Makara's belly button
"to your marvelous, thick cock. — D.C. Juris

His lips parted. "Couldn't fool you for that long, I guess."
I squeezed my eyes shut, but a tear wiggled its way free, gliding down my cheek.
"Don't cry." He caught the tear with his finger as he pressed his forehead against mine. "Please. I hate when you cry because of me."
"I'm sorry. I don't want to be all weepy." I wiped at my cheeks, feeling foolish. "It's just that ... I never did know."
Aiden clasped the sides of my face, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I wanted a piece of you with me always. No matter what."
I shuddered. "But I don't ... I don't have anything of you."
"Yes, you do." Aiden brushed his lips over my damp cheek. A soft smile filled his voice. "You'll have a piece of my heart - all of it, really. Forever. Even if your heart belongs to someone else. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

The boy bled for you - a whole body's worth of blood. There's no love greater than that. He belongs to you alone." His words are surprisingly beautiful and kind, and somewhere in my heart, I know he's right. But how long will I have to wait for Jeb to have the courage to admit it to himself? Morpheus touches the scars on my palm. "But let us not forget that you bled for me. So to whom do you belong, Alyssa? — A.G. Howard

I love Memphis, I guess you could say, in the way that you love a brother even if he does sometimes puzzle and sadden and frustrate you. Say what you want about it, it's an authentic place. I was born and raised in Memphis, and no matter where I go, Memphis belongs to me, and I to it. — Hampton Sides

When he tears his mouth from mine, he moves his lips near my ear and whispers, You're mine. Every inch of you belongs to me. From your sweet mouth to your even sweeter pussy and when I want it, you better give it to me. — Aurora Rose Reynolds

Now he is gone
as you are gone.
But he belongs to me like lost baggage. — Anne Sexton

All he wanted was a long, hot shower and a long, deep sleep.
Meaning that whoever this pissed-off brunette was, whatever deal she'd arranged with his flaky mother, they could talk about it after he'd scrubbed the jungle from his skin and rinsed the shampoo from his hair.
"What do you mean it belongs to you? It can't belong to you. I just rented it," said the girl aiming that pink blow-dryer right at his heart.
If he wasn't so damn exhausted, he might find that funny. She was holding the thing as if it would protect her. It was a blow-dryer! He nodded at it. "What do you plan to do with that thing, honey? Style me to death? — Tracy Brogan

[On writing more Sherlock Holmes stories.] 'I don't care whether you do or not,' said Bram. 'But you will, eventually. He's yours, till death do you part. Did you really think he was dead and gone when you wrote "The Final Problem"? I don't think you did. I think you always knew he'd be back. But whenever you take up your pen and continue, heed my advice. Don't bring him here. Don't bring Sherlock Holmes into the electric light. Leave him in the mysterious and romantic flicker of the gas lamp. He won't stand next to this, do you see? The glare would melt him away. He was more the man of our time than Oscar was. Or than we were. Leave him where he belongs, in the last days of our bygone century. Because in a hundred years, no one will care about me. Or you. Or Oscar. We stopped caring about Oscar years ago, and we were his bloody *friends.* No, what they'll remember are the stories. They'll remember Holmes. And Watson. And Dorian Gray. — Graham Moore

All right, see," Wayne said, "I've got it figured out. I'm gonna be a rich fellow. Made loads off of the sweat and blood o' lesser men. Only I won't say it like that, 'cuz I'll be in character, you see."
"Is that so?" Marasi said, starting up the steps.
"Yup," Wayne said, joining her. "Even brought me fancy hat." He held up a top hat and spun it on his finger.
"That hat belongs to Waxillium."
"No it don't," Wayne said, putting it on. "I gave 'im a rat for it."
"A ... rat?"
"Minus the tail," Wayne said. "On account of this hat bein' kinda dusty when I took it. Anyway, I'll be the rich fellow. You be my younger brother's daughter. — Brandon Sanderson

Then listen to me,' he said and cleared his throat. 'It's true that a child belongs to its father. But when a father beats his child, it seeks sympathy in its mother's hut. A man belongs to his fatherland when things are good and life is sweet. But when there is sorrow and bitterness he finds refuge in his motherland. Your mother is there to protect you. She is buried there. And that is why we say that mother is supreme. Is it right that you, Okonkwo, should bring your mother a heavy face and refuse to be comforted? Be careful or you may displease the dead. Your duty is to comfort your wives and children and take them back to your fatherland after seven years. But if you allow sorrow to weigh you down and kill you, they will all die in exile. — Chinua Achebe

No one is going to die because of me." Jagger stood firm. "No one touches what is mine, Arianne. No one hurts my girl. No one shoots a woman under my protection and lives. And no one fucks with the Sinners or what belongs to us. I will get that name, and when I do, I will show no mercy." "You did this for a name?" He turned and reached for the door. "I did this because I love you. — Anonymous

Don't tell me that man doesn't belong out there. Man belongs wherever he wants to go - and he'll do plenty well when he gets there. — Wernher Von Braun

Or been driven away," their father said, looking at the sixth pup. His fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died that morning. Bran thought it curious that this pup alone would have opened his eyes while the others were still blind. "An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others." Jon Snow gave his father's ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," he said. "This one belongs to me. — George R R Martin

Listening Without Thought I do not know whether you have listened to a bird. To listen to something demands that your mind be quiet - not a mystical quietness, but just quietness. I am telling you something, and to listen to me you have to be quiet, not have all kinds of ideas buzzing in your mind. When you look at a flower, you look at it, not naming it, not classifying it, not saying that it belongs to a certain species - when you do these, you cease to look at it. Therefore, I am saying that it is one of the most difficult things to listen - to listen to the communist, to the socialist, to the congressman, to the capitalist, to anybody, to your wife, to your children, to your neighbor, to the bus conductor, to the bird - just to listen. It is only when you listen without the idea, without thought, that you are directly in contact; and being in contact, you will understand whether what he is saying is true or false; you do not have to discuss. JANUARY 4 — Jiddu Krishnamurti

The emptiness engendered by fear must be replaced by forgiveness. That is what the Bible means by "There is no death," and why I could demonstrate that death does not exist. I came to fulfill the law by reinterpreting it. The law itself, if properly understood, offers only protection. It is those who have not yet changed their minds who brought the "hell-fire" concept into it. I assure you that I will witness for anyone who lets me, and to whatever extent he permits it. Your witnessing demonstrates your belief, and thus strengthens it. Those who witness for me are expressing, through their miracles, that they have abandoned the belief in deprivation in favor of the abundance they have learned belongs to them. — Foundation For Inner Peace

If people want to talk about Bob Dylan, I can talk about that. But my dad belongs to me and four other people exclusively. I'm very protective of that. And telling people whether he was affectionate is telling people a lot. It has so little to do with me. I come up against a wall. — Jakob Dylan

Celebration belongs to God's Kingdom. God not only offers forgiveness, reconciliation, and healing, but wants to lift up these gifts as a source of joy for all who witness them. In all three of the parables which Jesus tells to explain why he eats with sinners, God rejoices and invites others to rejoice with him. "Rejoice with me," the shepherd says, "I have found my sheep that was lost." "Rejoice with me," the woman says, "I have found the drachma I lost." "Rejoice with me," the father says, "this son of mine was lost and is found." All these voices are the voices of God. God does not want to keep his joy to himself. He wants everyone to share in it. God's joy is the joy of his angels and his saints; it is the joy of all who belong to the Kingdom. — Henri J.M. Nouwen

A name pronounced is the recognition of the individual to whom it belongs. He who can pronounce my name aright, he can call me, and is entitled to my love and service. — Henry David Thoreau

You're different than you used to be. A few months ago you wouldn't have followed me onto this porch." The compliment, if it was that, brought tears to her eyes. "I - I'm sorry for treating you so badly. I'm ashamed now of how I snubbed you - acted afraid of you - " "It's common enough." The admission startled her - made her feel grieved and defensive and tender toward him all at once. She longed to lay a reassuring hand on his sleeve but checked herself. There was no self-pity in his manner, only truth telling, and she sensed he didn't want her sympathy, just her friendship. And her forgiveness. "A half blood belongs to no one, red or white," he said. "You belong to God," she said softly. — Laura Frantz

He belongs to me, and I to him... without each-other, we are merely two lost pieces, empty, without purpose... — Chelsea Radojcic

See this ring? It means I belong to him. And the tattoo of my name on his arm means he belongs to me. All of him. His dick is a compass, and I'm due north- it only points to me. — Emma Chase

You have a dark heart in you, Valentine's daughter," he said. "You just won't admit it. And if you want Jace, you had better accept it. Because he belongs to me now. — Cassandra Clare

But I am thinking now of your favorite of whom you have talked to me sometimes, and read me, too, some of his letters, of Mozart. How was it with him in his day? Who controlled things in his times and ruled the roost and gave the tone and counted for something? Was it Mozart or the business people, Mozart or the average man? And in what fashion did he come to die and be buried? And perhaps, I mean, it has always been the same and always will be ... Time and the world, money and power belong to the small people and the shallow people. To the rest, to the real men belongs nothing. — Hermann Hesse

The head nerd of the Cadets is my partner and when it's over he asks me for my number. I'm very flattered and he looks a bit crestfallen when I say no.
"It's because they don't have coverage out here," Griggs tells him.
"No," I say, looking up at Griggs. "It's actually because my heart belongs to someone else." And if I could bottle the look on his face, I'd keep it by my bedside for the rest of my life. — Melina Marchetta

Does she belong to you, Finnikin?" Yata asked, her eyes piercing. "No," he said after a moment. "But she belongs to my heart. I feel her absence strongly and it brings me ... sorrow. — Melina Marchetta

He took a hold of her hand and brought it to his chest. "Do you feel that?"
"Your heart?" At his nod, she replied, "Yes."
"It's beating just for you. From the first moment I saw you, it was yours. And, until my last breath on this Earth, it will belong to you." He brought his hand to her chest and placed it over her heart. "Now, I need to know if yours belongs to me. Not a part, but the whole thing. A person can't live with half a heart. I need your whole heart to survive. — Sarah Curtis

When people consult me,it's not that I'm reading the future;I am guessing at the future.The future belongs to God,and it is only he who reveals it,under extraordinary circumstances.How do I guess at the future?Based on the omens of the present.The secret is here in the present.If you pay attention to the present,you can improve upon it.
-gypsy — Paulo Coelho

But my attention's elsewhere, drawn to that warm wonderful pull, the familiar loving essence that only belongs to one person - only belongs to him
Watching as Damen cuts through the water, board tucked under his arm, body so sculpted, so bronzed, Rembrandt would weep. Water sluicing behind him like a hot knife through butter, cleanly, fluidly, as though parting the sea.
My lips part, desperate to speak, to call out his name and bring him back to me. But just as I'm about to, my eyes meet his and I see what he sees: me - hair tangled and wet - clothes twisted and clinging - frolicking in the ocean on a hot sunny day with Jude's tanned strong arms still wrapped around me.
I release myself from Jude's grip, but it's too late. Damen's already seen me.
Already moved on.
Leaving me hollow, breathless, as I watch him retreat.
No tulips, no telepathic message, just a sad, empty void left behind in his place. — Alyson Noel

Let me tell you something. Is it wrong for the person who deserves it to get credit? God made everything. He fashioned the little baby in its mother's womb and set the stars in place. He put a plan in motion to redeem us, to showcase His love and goodness and mercy on the cross so that all glory would go to the One to whom it belongs. Glory that goes to anybody or anything else is a sham. And you put an e on that and it becomes a shame. That's what the world has come to by giving glory to people who can catch a ball or twist on a stage. — Chris Fabry

These sons belong me, and this wealth belongs me," with such thoughts the fool is tormented. He himself does not belong to himself; how much less sons and wealth? — Friedrich Max Muller

But isn't that what love is, Clarissa? Ownership? 'I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine,' as the Song of Songs goes."
"No. And don't quote the Bible at me. I don't think you get it ... It's not just that someone belongs to you, it's that you give yourself to them. I doubt you've ever given anything to anyone. Except maybe nightmares."
"To give yourself to someone?" The thin smile didn't waver. "As you've given yourself to Jonathan?"
"What?"
"You think I haven't seen the way you two look at each other? The way he says your name? You may not think I can feel, but that doesn't mean I can't see feelings in others. — Cassandra Clare

A man doesn't wasnt to feel that a woman cares more for him than he cares for her. He doesn't want to feel owned, body and soul. It's that damned possessive attitude. This man is mine
he belongs to me! He wants to get away
to get free. He wants to own his woman; he doesn't want her to own him.(Simon Boyle) — Agatha Christie

God considers this land to be his. You read the Bible and he says 'This is my land,' and for any prime minister of Israel who decides he is going to carve it up and give it away, God says, 'No, this is mine.' ... He was dividing God's land. And I would say, 'Woe unto any prime minister of Israel who takes a similar course to appease the E.U., the United Nations, or the United States of America.' God says, 'This land belongs to me. You better leave it alone.' — Pat Robertson

I want to believe your love is only for me. That your lips are mine. That your kisses are meant for me. That your body belongs to me." His arms move to my waist and tighten around me and he presses his hard body against mine. "But when you leave me to see him, it's hard to know for sure. — Kim Karr

Ky, my heart...it beats for you. My lungs, they breathe for you. My soul..."
Ky's eyes filled with emotion as I spoke.
"What sweet cheeks? Tell me," he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.
"My soul...belongs to you. You saved me, baby. You wanted me for the me inside. Even looking like this, you make me believe I am enough. — Tillie Cole

War proves nothing. To kill a man does not prove that he was in the wrong. Bloodletting cannot change men's spirits, neither can the evil of men's thoughts be driven out by blows. If I go to my neighbor's house, and break her furniture, and smash her pictures, and bind her children captive, it does not prove that I am fitter to live than she - yet according to ethics of nations it does. I have conquered her and she must pay me for my trouble; and her house and all that is left in it belongs to my heirs and successors, forever. That is war! — Nellie L. McClung

I got me slave-girls and slaves.' For what price, tell me? What did you find in existence worth as much as this human nature? What price did you put on rationality? How many obols did you reckon the equivalent of the likeness of God? How many staters did you get for selling that being shaped by God? God said, Let us make man in our own image and likeness. If he is in the likeness of God, and rules the whole earth, and has been granted authority over everything on earth from God, who is his buyer, tell me? Who is his seller? To God alone belongs this power; or, rather, not even to God himself. For his gracious gifts, it says, are irrevocable. God would not therefore reduce the human race to slavery, since he himself, when we had been enslaved to sin, spontaneously recalled us to freedom. But if God does not enslave what is free, who is he that sets his own power above God's? — Gregory Of Nyssa

But you like to cry over stories?" "Oh, yes, in the middle of them. But I like everything to come right at last." "I must have one pathetic scene in it," said Anne thoughtfully. "I might let ROBERT RAY be injured in an accident and have a death scene." "No, you mustn't kill BOBBY off," declared Diana, laughing. "He belongs to me and I want him to live and flourish. Kill somebody else if you have to." For — L.M. Montgomery

I could smell the Viet Cong, really, I could smell Charlie. It wasn't just his body sweat or the urine. There were times when I could hear the breathing, real quiet; you could hear a person breathe, and I'd know he was in there, and I didn't go any farther. I just said to myself: In this dark corner of a tunnel is where the animal belongs, a rodent belongs. I'm becoming like a rodent, but still I don't belong. Yes, I could smell Charlie. And he knew me. The type of cologne I used, the aftershave - that's when we stopped using it altogether. But there was more than that. There was the scent that told you there was somebody in the tunnels. We became so tuned up after a while that when the other person would flick an eyelid up or down, you really knew he was there, in the corner, not even hiding anymore. Just sitting and waiting. They were the ones you never killed. You just backed out and told them up above the tunnel was cold. — Tom Mangold

Jonah's the only man who ever made my entire mind splinter like this. Because I can't speak. I can't think. I don't know what to feel. All I know is that he's pumping me hard now, so deep inside me that it seems like - like there's nothing left of me except my body, and my body is completely his - even the arousal arcing inside me, more and more powerful, that belongs to him too - — Lilah Pace

Haven't you ever heard that modesty is an attractive trait?"
"Only from ugly people," Jace confided. "The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me." He winked at the girls, who giggled and hid behind their hair. — Cassandra Clare

This belongs to me now, he said as his fingers slid slowly against me. — Teresa Mummert

Say yes,' he whispers. 'Marry me.'

I hesitate. I open my eyes. 'You will get my fortune,' I remark. 'When I marry you, everything I have becomes yours. Just as George has everything that belongs to Isabel.'

'That's why you can trust me to win it for you,' he says simply. 'When your interests and mine are the same, you can be certain that I will care for you as for myself. You will be my own. You will find that I care for my own.'

'You will be true to me?'

'Loyalty is my motto. When I give my word, you can trust me. — Philippa Gregory

Princess Caspida, I have nothing but respect and admiration for you. Truly you will be the queen this city needs. But I can't marry you."
The princess stands still as stone, her face unreadable. "Why not, Prince Rahzad?"
"I am sorry," he replies. "The truth is, I am in love, but not with you."
He turns to me, and my spirit takes flight like a flock of doves, startled and erratic. I cannot move, cannot speak, as he takes my hands in his and looks me earnestly in the eye. He presses the ring into my palm, and the gold feels as if it burns my skin.
"This belongs to you, and you alone. I've been so blind, Zahra. So caught up in the past that I've failed to see what's happening in front of me. I've been such an idiot, I don't know how I can expect anything from you. But I have to try. I have to tell the truth, and the truth is . . . I love you. — Jessica Khoury

I don't want you to leave without me. A wife belongs with her husband, and he belongs with her. I'm always selfish with you, asking you to move here, asking you to wait until it's good for my career before you leave, but there it is. — Christina Lauren

There are, it has been said, two types of people in the world. There are those who, when presented with a glass that is exactly half full, say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty.
The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: What's up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don't think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass! Who's been pinching my beer?
And at the other end of the bar the world is full of the other type of person, who has a broken glass, or a glass that has been carelessly knocked over (usually by one of the people calling for a larger glass) or who had no glass at all, because he was at the back of the crowd and had failed to catch the barman's eye. — Terry Pratchett

What? What do you want?"
"You, Nik." Cole took a couple of deep breaths. "I want you. Whether we take over the throne or not. I want you in my life, and the only way that will happen is if you become like me. We shared a heart, Nik." He touched his finger to my heart. "Your heart is in me now."
"Not my heart. Just some of my emotions."
"Same thing. It belongs to me. And so I belong to you. — Brodi Ashton

The central attitudes driving Rambo are:
Strength and aggressiveness are good; compassion and conflict resolution are bad.
Anything that could be even remotely associated with homosexuality, including walking away from possible violence or showing any fear or grief, has to be avoided at any cost.
Femaleness and femininity (which he associates with homosexuality) are inferior. Women are here to serve men and be protected by them.
Men should never hit women, because it is unmanly to do so. However, exceptions to this rule can be made for my own partner if her behavior is bad enough. Men need to keep their women in line.
You are a thing that belongs to me, akin to a trophy. — Lundy Bancroft

That's mine!" Kostya said in a still somewhat strangled voice as he lurched forward.

Gabriel reached for the box but Misha held tight to it, backing up a couple of steps as he eyed us.

"You are who?" he asked.

"Konstantin Fekete, wyvern of the black dragons. The phylactery belongs to me."

"The black dragons," Misha said slowly. "Surely they all died centuries ago?"

"Not all. There are still a few of us. And we will regain what we once held-"

Everyone in the room except Cyrene chanted in unison, "-but was taken from us. We will face death to restore to the sept the pride, the glory, the true essence, of what it once was."

Kostya glared at us all.

"Don't get him going about that, please," Aisling said from where she stood behind us, leaning against Drake. "It's late, and once he starts, it can take hours. — Katie MacAlister

If I'd thought I would regret it," he said calmly, "I never would have made that oath. I knew what becoming a knight would mean. And if you asked me again, the answer would still be the same." He sighed, framing my face with his hands. "My life ... everything I am ... belongs to you. — Julie Kagawa

They thought back on the tales that the soldier had told. They remembered Hazel, the gentle Bethlehem donkey, who used the last of her strength helping those who needed her. They remembered the donkey who stood on the mountain and accepted suffering so that others would not know pain. They remembered the donkey with a hundred names, the sturdy friend of Jack who proved that the most humble being can have the most courageous heart. They gazed at the soldier, who said, 'I fear that John will be sorry he gave the silver donkey to me. The silver donkey belongs to the trustworthy and the brave. — Sonya Hartnett

I tried some more. It was tasting better. I was feeling better. "This stuff belongs to your father, Baldy. I shouldn't drink it all." "He doesn't care. He's stopped drinking." Never had I felt so good. It was better than masturbating. I went from barrel to barrel. It was magic. Why hadn't someone told me? With this, life was great, a man was perfect, nothing could touch him. I stood up straight and looked at Baldy. "Where's your mother? I'm going to fuck your mother! — Charles Bukowski

If you want some advice - which I'm sure you don't - you guys should lay off on the magic. Christian still thinks you're moving in on Lissa."
"What?" he asked in mock astonishment. "Doesn't he know my heart belongs to you?"
"It does not. And no, he's still worried about it, despite what I've told him."
"You know, I bet if we started making out right now, it would make him feel better."
"If you touch me," I said pleasantly, "I'll provide you with the opportunity to see if you can heal yourself. Then we'd see how badass you really are. — Richelle Mead

Livia's eyes filled with grateful tears.
Blake brushed them away. "Now you cry? After I've made love to you?"
"It's just that you're the kindest person in the world. And you're here with me. I'll never stop feeling lucky." She burrowed her face into his warm hug. She felt his kiss on her hair.
"Livia, the luck belongs to me," he whispered. "The kindness belongs to you. One lifetime will never be enough for us. — Debra Anastasia

Your pleasure belongs to me." He tugged her hair again and let his free hand find one of her breasts, twisting it and making her writhe. "Bend over. Grab your ankles. — Lexi Blake

My heart belongs to you,' He promised.
'Would you have loved me when I was a girl?'
'I have always loved you. Even before I met you I loved the idea of you. — Isobelle Carmody

Un homme qui lit, ou qui pense, ou qui calcule, appartient a' l'espe' ce et non au sexe; dans ses meilleurs moments, il e chappe me me a' l'humain. A person who reads or thinks or calculates, belongs to a kind and not to a gender; in his or her best moments, he or she escapes being human. — Stephanie Crayencour

No matter how much I want to scream at him and make him leave, I find myself wishing he could squeeze me just a little bit tighter. I want him to lock his arms around me and throw away the key, because this is where he belongs and I'm scared he'll just let me go again. — Colleen Hoover

Poor slob without a name. It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven't the right to give him one: he'll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don't belong to each other: he's an independent, and so am I. I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together. — Truman Capote

Judge, Curtis is also Green and Ruxs' adopted son, but he belongs to me now," Genesis said, smugly. "I — A.E. Via

Then again, there's nothing simple about Will. I think back to what he can do - bend earth, resist shading, his immense strength - and it's glaringly inaccurate to consider him a human. But then I can't think of him as a draki either. And this strikes me as sad. Will doesn't belong anywhere. Not among humans. Not among draki.
But he belongs with me. The conviction is still there, as senseless and dangerous as always, seeping into my bones, my heart. A fact I wouldn't change even if I could. — Sophie Jordan

She belongs to me, he sent out on a heavy wave of Power and on all frequencies, including the one the scream had come on. It might not be obvious, but she is mine. Touch her again and die. — L.J.Smith

It doesn't begin inside my head like I expected. Instead a delicious warmth spreads through my body, expanding from my heart outward, and my bones and muscles and skin dissolve in the warmth that spreads out from me, until the warmth overcomes the Earth and the boundaries of the universe. The warmth is everywhere and everything. My body and everything outside my body belongs to it. Then I feel him; he is in the warmth, too, and there's no separation between us, no spot where I end and he begins, and I open up like a flower to the rain, achingly slow and dizzyingly fast, dissolving in the warmth, dissolving in him and there's nothing to see, that's just the convenient word he used because there is no word to describe him, he just is.
And I open to him, a flower to the rain. — Rick Yancey

He pushes in then, slowly, deeply, stroking a chord inside of me. My breath hitches. Oh God.
"I love that sound," he whispers, his voice gritty. "It's the best music in the world."
I wrap my arms around him. "Maybe that should be your ringtone, then."
He laughs, his face nuzzled into my neck. "That wouldn't work."
"Why?"
"Because others would hear it. That sound belongs only to my ears. — J.M. Darhower

I think it was Tommy who told me, 'When your song is called 'XYZ' or whatever, every line has got to make sense against your title.' He showed me little methods of proving to yourself whether the line belongs, and ways of finding out whether you were able to get more out of a line if you tried. — Merle Haggard

Something in me belongs to him now, and I feel, I know, that he belongs to me. — Claudia Gray

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
32. I think I could turn and live with animals, they're so placid and self-contained,
I stand and look at them and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition.
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins.
They do not make me sick discussiong their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the earth.
52. The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and loitering.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world. — Walt Whitman

God laughs on two occasions. He laughs when the physician says to the patient's mother, 'Don't be afraid, mother; I shall certainly cure your boy.' God laughs, saying to Himself, 'I am going to take his life, and this man says he will save it!' The physician thinks he is the master, forgetting that God is the Master. God laughs again when two brothers divide their land with a string, saying to each other, 'This side is mine and that side is yours.' He laughs and says to Himself, 'The whole universe belongs to Me, but they say they own this portion or that portion.' — Ramakrishna

Beckett, where's Eve?"
When he had her pressed to his chest, she tried again. "Are you going to tell me or what?"
Beckett sighed and looked into her face. "I left her, babycakes. She needs wings, not handcuffs."
He held Livia tighter, like she was a teddy bear.
She stopped moving her feet and hugged him around the neck. "You're not handcuffs. Don't you know that? She loves you. She does, I've seen it."
Beckett resumed dancing, dipping her again. "Look around, Whitebread. She's not here. She didn't try to stop me from coming. Her heart belongs to a dead man and a dream. I'm neither of those things." Beckett released her and clapped for the end of the song. He reached in his pocket and produced a crumpled envelope. "Here's my gift to you guys. I'm sure Blake won't want to accept it, but I'm hoping you'll convince him. For me. — Debra Anastasia

I must learn that the purpose of my life belongs to God, not me. God is using me from His great personal perspective, and all He asks of me is that I trust Him. — Oswald Chambers