Honey You Belong Quotes & Sayings

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

Third tale (aka short stories) - His name is Sun and Adultery. My husband's is Elias. My children are named Enilson and Joaquim. I want them all to die. Except him. (That first one, light and bed.) I'm very sorry, my God, but there it is. Signed: Lazinha. — Hilda Hilst

I don't want to be played." "Oh, I don't know." A smile touched his lips. "With a guy like that . . . it could be fun. — Lisa Kleypas

I had become wiser, I tried to find out what irony really is, and discovered that some ancient writer on poetry had spoken of "Ironia, which we call the drye mock." And I cannot think of a better term for it: The drye mock. Not sarcasm, which is like vinegar, or cynicism, which is so often the voice of disappointed idealism, but a delicate casting of cool and illuminating light on life, and thus an enlargement. The ironist is not bitter, he does not seek to undercut everything that seems worthy or serious, he scorns the cheap scoring-off of the wisecracker. He stands, so to speak, somewhat at one side, observes and speaks with a moderation which is occasionally embellished with a flash of controlled exaggeration. He speaks from a certain depth, and thus he is not of the same nature as the wit, who so often speaks from the tongue and no deeper. The wit's desire is to be funny; the ironist is only funny as a secondary achievement. — Robertson Davies

Ideas come from the Earth. They come from every human experience that you've either witnessed or have heard about, translated into your brain in your own sense of dialogue, in your own language form. Ideas are born from what is smelled, heard, seen, experienced, felt, emotionalized. Ideas are probably in the air, like little tiny items of ozone. — Rod Serling

In a world that has no heaven the earth becomes an abyss.
And the poem is one of its consolation prizes.
One of the qualities of the winds, north or south — Mahmoud Darwish

Out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing was ever made. — Immanuel Kant

My parents were very unusual people, but it was more valuable to have other people say that than me. — Brooke Hayward

Our tax policy is engineered by people who view tax as a means of achieving changes in our social structure. — Ronald Reagan

I don't know what I believe anymore, and really, I try not to think about it. But the psychologists say that suicide is a behavioral contagion. It's the old adage "If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you, too?" Apparently the answer is yes. To — Suzanne Young

I maintain that many an inventor, many a diplomat, many a financier is a sounder philosopher than all those who practice the dull craft of experimental psychology. — Oswald Spengler

As soon as I saw that doll all splotched with mud, I saw myself, saw how soiled I was. Or thought I was. From that minute on, I felt liked I'd slipped through a hole in God's pocket. Just took a dive right into the dirt and was lost forever."
Greg kissed Faron's hair. "You never hit the dirt. You just slid from one pocket to another. That's what I did too - I took a journey I was meant to take. I know that now."
Absorbing this, Faron slanted a puzzled look at Greg. "Which pocket do you suppose I landed in?"
"This one. The one we're in together. The one I believe we'll stay in."
Faron felt a thrill of optimism in his heart. "I never thought of it that way."
"I never did either. Until today." Greg once again settled onto Faron's chest. His cheek moved noticeable into a smile. "God isn't small, honey. God has a lot of freakin' pockets. And we just found the one we belong in. — K.Z. Snow