Quotes & Sayings About How You Feel About Her

I love you, Layla Flaherty," I tell her because I can feel how badly she needs to hear it. "But you already know that, don't you?"
I watch as her pupils dilate and she licks her lips. "I do."
"So what are you going to do about it?" I lean back, despite my body's protest to throw her down and tear her clothes to shreds.
"I'm going to love you right back. — Caisey Quinn

Joci took a deep breath, "Earlier tonight when you were thanking people for
helping with the ride tomorrow. You called me baby. Do you remember that?"
Jeremiah looked at Joci and touched her face with his forefinger.
"Yes, I wanted you to know that I wanted you. And, I guess I wanted everyone
to know how I feel about you. — P.J. Fiala

What have you talked about then?" Alec didn't like how jealous he sounded, but it couldn't be helped. Ever since Charlie had come home he didn't know how to feel about her. It was impossible to just wipe out all the love he'd carried for her for so many years, every time he looked at his sons he saw her in them. He had tried to move on, he had moved on, but a part of him would always love her. Everything he had learnt about being a man, a lover, a true friend, a father; all these things he had learnt with her right by his side. She had made him her constant in a world where she had never known true stability, and he had loved her all the more for it.
But just as it was impossible to stop loving her, the same could be said when it came to hating her. He f*** ing hated her. He loved her with the same intensity of hating her. — K. Carr

Sometimes I can't tell if you hate this place or love it."
"I love its potential. I hate its past. And I don't like what it is." She hugs her knees close to her chest. "The way you feel about the place you grew up in is a lot like how you feel about your family."
"How's that?"
She thinks about it for a long time. "Like isn't the same thing as love. — Robert Jackson Bennett

I want Sam to stop liking Craig.
Now I guess maybe you think that's because I am jealous of him. I'm not. Honest. It's just that Craig doesn't really listen to her when she talks. I don't mean that he's a bad guy because he's not. It's just that he always looks distracted.
It's like he would take a photograph of Sam, and the photograph would be beautiful. And he would think the reason the photograph was beautiful was because of how he took it. If I took it, I would know that the only reason it's beautiful is because of Sam.
I just think it's bad when a boy looks at a girl and thinks that the way he sees the girl is better than the girl actually is. And I think it's bad when the most honest way a boy can look at a girl is through a camera. It's very hard for me to see Sam feel better about herself just because an older boy sees her that way. — Stephen Chbosky

No," he replied, firmly, smoothing her hair back from the side of her face. "I'll never leave you
alone again. You've spent too many years always having to be the strong one, never having anyone to
rely upon. It stops now, Taylor. What I heard changes nothing when it comes to how I feel about you. I
respect you in a way I've never respected anyone before. Share this burden with me. You've been strong
long enough. Let me shoulder it from here on out. I promise you, I won't fail you. — Rose Wynters

It's not about composition. It's the way you feel about how your objects should relate to each other. I've got lots of African statues and things, and the cleaner arranges them like soldiers, which drives me mad. So I have to rearrange them, and I must drive her mad, because I'm doing anarchy and she's doing military manoeuvres. — David Bailey

I guess I haven't made it clear how I feel about Charlotte. Well, she puts my heart in a microwave and watches as it warms up and explodes. When I'm around her, my blood runs hot and thick. It's beautiful.
You could say there's nothing special about her. You could make the case.
But, really, she's special because nobody else can do the microwave thing. — Hannah Moskowitz

Please don't tell her i told you. I know how much you love her, Hardy, and i know the reason she didn't want you to know is because she loves you, too. I've never seen two people your age feel so deeply about each other. I understand you needing to know, but she would never forgive me. — M. Leighton

At least, not as familiar as you are with fetish wear."
Her gaze jerked over to him. Those delicately arched brows pinched down. "What are you talking about?"
"You." Using the gun, he gestured at her body. "In that boner-inspiring fluff called underwear. You're more than comfortable with it. Hell, a real innocent wouldn't even have figured out how to wear it, much less used it to taunt me."
Her lips curled. "Oh, poor Trace. Did you feel taunted?"
"Yeah." He stared at her mouth. "I did. — Lori Foster

Great," Lee sighed, side-stepping through. "Just when I thought I'd gotten out of wandering through the creepy graveyard, you find another way."
Smiling as he followed her through, he assured her, "Don't worry, I'm a professional." He seemed to find her nervousness amusing.
"And just so you know," she grumbled, "this absolutely does not count as our date."
He burst out laughing. "That's too bad. Now I'll have to make other plans. How do you feel about abandoned insane asylums? — Kaye Thornbrugh

Anya made you kiss her? Yeah. And at our next stop, I'll expect you to deliver. I'll pay, William piped up. After you describe everything about that kiss you two shared. Did you cop a feel? You did, didn't you, you little hussy. I bet you moaned a lot, too. Too late for you to pay, she said in a sing song voice. Strider already offered, and I already accepted. And no, I won't do any describing. You can just imagine how sexy it was. Oh, and Willie. Just so you know, your imagination won't do it justice. — Gena Showalter

I told her that I can't be doing with the Wonder part of these trips, but she said it should be the icing on the cake ... I've never liked wedding cake due to the amount of icing, but then imagine a wedding cake without it; just a dark, stodgy, horrible dry sponge. The icing covers up the mess, and that's how I feel about most of the Wonders. They use them to get people to visit a place that you probably wouldn't think about visiting. — Karl Pilkington

Each human being deals with hurt or resentment in a unique way. When you feel insulted or bullied, you may reach for a chocolate bar. In the same circumstance, I might burst into tears. Another person may put his or her feelings quickly into words, confronting the mistreatment directly. Although our feelings can influence how we wish to act, our choices of how to behave are ultimately determined more by our attitudes and our habits. We respond to our emotional wounds based on what we believe about ourselves, how we think about the person who has hurt us, and how we perceive the world. Only in people who are severely traumatized or who have major mental illnesses is behavior governed by feelings. And only a tiny percentage of abusive men have these kinds of severe psychological problems. — Lundy Bancroft

Why do you go cold?" He kept his voice gentle.
"I - I've analysed it. Because I have the sort of good looks I have. People treat you as a kind of ;possession; if you have a certain sort of good looks. Not lively, but sort of clear-cut and-"
"Beautiful."
"Yes, why not. You can become a property or an idol. I don't want that. It kept happening"
"It needn't."
"Even you - drew back - when we met. I expect that now. I use it."
"Yes. But you don't want - do you - to be alone always. Or do you?"
"I feel as she did. I keep my defences up because I must go on ;doing my work;. I know how she felt about her unbroken egg. Her self-possession, her autonomy. I don't want to think of that going. You understand? — A.S. Byatt

Tell me,' the man leans forward ans says, 'have you heard of a lady called Madeleine? No? In 1996, this lady named Albright Madeleine, the US ambassador to the United Nations, was asked on television how she felt about the fact that five hundred thousand Iraqi children had died as a result of US economic sanctions? Do you know what she said? She said that it was "a very hard choice" but "we think the price is worth it". These are her exact words. How do you feel about that?
'How do you think I feel about that? And I would take your love for children more seriously if you didn't have children cleaning your floors. — Nadeem Aslam

The Oracle handed her a small, leather bound booklet, about as thick as a pamphlet, and said, "You are a teacher, yes?"
It was nice of the Oracle to phrase things in the form of a question and let people feel they were imparting information. "Yes, I am."
"Excellent. I know teachers value learning, and this book has very valuable information on gargoyles. If Terak remains part of your life, this you'll want to know."
Larissa weighed it in her hand. "This is a very light history."
The Oracle arched one fine brow. "Why would I bother with that? This, my dear, is about how gargoyles mate. — Danielle Monsch

I just feel so guilty." Her stinging eyes burned with fresh tears. "I don't know why I can't ... I can't..."
"Make love to him?"
She nodded.
"Let him see you?"
She nodded again, tears sliding down her face. She mopped them up with the wet tissue she'd wadded in her fist.
"Are you scared he won't love you anymore, after he's seen how you look now?" her dad asked gently.
"No."
"Are you scared he won't be attracted to you anymore? That he won't want to be your lover?"
"No."
"What are you scared of, Vanka?"
"I don't feel the same way about myself, now. I don't even know how to explain it. I'm not ashamed. I don't feel ugly. But the way I was, who I was when we ... when we fell in love, I'm not that person, now."
"You're not in love with him anymore?"
"I am," her voice broke on a sob. "So in love. Like I never knew it could be. I thought I loved David. I thought I loved Mark. But, god, Dad, the way I love Galen... — Varian Krylov

Jen, get a clue and read Wadim's shirt." Jacque told her dryly.
Jen looked over at Wadim who, oh so helpfully, pulled his shirt out so that she could read it.
In black bold letters it said, "No really, I'm a werewolf and you're a human, which essentially translates into a steak with legs."
"Are you implying that Wadmin's going to eat me, cause I don't know how Dec would feel about that. — Quinn Loftis

Love between women could take on a new shape in the late nineteenth century because the feminist movement succeeded both in opening new jobs for women, which would allow them independence, and in creating a support group so that they would not feel isolated and outcast when they claimed their independence. ... The wistful desire of Clarissa Harlowe's friend, Miss Howe, "How charmingly might you and I live together," in the eighteenth century could be realised in the last decades of the nineteenth century. If Clarissa Harlowe had lived about a hundred and fifty years later, she could have gotten a job that would have been appropriate for a woman of her class. With the power given to her by independence and the consciousness of a support group, Clarissa as a New Woman might have turned her back on both her family and Lovelace, and gone to live "charmingly" with Miss Howe. Many women did. — Lillian Faderman

You two will figure it out. I know you will." Maybe we will, maybe we are, but not if she tells him. "You're very much alike. You both feel things very deeply, too deeply sometimes." What? "Jude and I have quite a bit of armor on us," she continues. "It takes a lot to break through it. Not you and Dad." This is news. I never thought I was anything like Dad. But what she's really saying is that we're both wusses. That's what Brian thinks too. I'm just someone who "draws pictures." And it burns in my chest that she thinks Jude's like her and I'm not. How come everything I think about our family keeps changing? How come the teams keep switching? Is this how all families are? And most importantly, how do I know she's not lying to me about not telling Dad? — Jandy Nelson

I read a story about some old opera singer once, and when a guy asked her to marry him, she took him backstage after she had sung a real triumph, with all the people calling for her, asked, 'Do you think you could give me that?' That story hit me right, man. I know no guy ever made me feel as good as an audience. I'm really far into this now, really committed. Like, I don't think I'd go off the road for long now, for life with a guy no matter how good. Yeah, it's the truth. Scary thing to say though, isn't it? — Janis Joplin

It's the difference between your wife's passport photograph and the portraits you took when you got
engaged. Both may have been created with similar technology, but what stands in that great gulf between them are the passion you have for your wife, the knowledge you have of her personality, and your willingness to use your craft, time, and energy to express that. One says, "She looks like this." The other says, "This is who she is to me. It's how I feel about her. See how amazing she is? — David DuChemin

Kate lost a mother," I said, "but I lost a nothing."
Kate doesn't feel that way," Jack assured me.
But what about everybody else besides Kate? How can I ever explain to anyone what she was when she and I had no name? People need names for everything. I wasn't a relative or a friend, I was just an object of her kindness."
He wiped my cheeks, saying Ssshh. I buried my face in his shoulder.
True kindness is stabilizing," I went on. "When you feel it and when you express it, it becomes the whole meaning of things. Like all there is to achieve. It's life, demystified. A place out of self, a network of simple pleasures, not a waltz, but like whirls within a waltz."
You're the one now," Jack said definitively. "That's why you met her. She had something she had to pass on." (p. 95) — Hilary Thayer Hamann

I know we have only been together for a little over a year," I explained, quickly. "Maybe it's too soon? I understand if it's too soon. It's just that how you feel about the way we kiss? I feel that way about everything we do together. I love it. I love to be inside you, I love working with you, I love watching you work, I love fighting with you, and I love just sitting on the couch and laughing with you. I'm lost when I'm not with you, Chloe. I can't think of anything, or anyone, who is more important to me, every second. And so for me, that means we're already sort of married in my head. I guess I wanted to make it official somehow. Maybe I sound like an idiot?" I looked over at her, feeling my heart try to jackhammer its way up my throat. "I never expected to feel this way about someone. — Christina Lauren

So trust in this. How you feel about her. How you feel when you're with her. But most importantly how you'd feel if you didn't have her in your life every day. — Lorelei James

Let's not ask Barbara Walters about how Muslim women feel. Let's not ask Tom Brokaw how Muslim women feel. Let's not ask CNN, ABC, FOX, The London Times, or the Australia Times. Let's not ask non-Muslims how Muslim women feel, how they live, what are their principles, and what are their challenges. If you want to be fair, ask a Muslim woman. Ask my wife. Ask my mother. Ask a Muslim woman who knows her religion, who has a relationship with her Creator, who is stable in her society, understands her responsibilities. Ask her. — Khalid Yasin

Are you calling me your gift?"
"Yes." She smiled. "How do you feel about that?"
"Like it's my turn to be unwrapped."
He nibbled at her mouth. "Do it slow. — Nalini Singh

I also wrote them about you." His blue gaze bored into her with paralyzing force. She couldn't move. Couldn't flee. Could only stare at the social travesty of his ungroomed features - the scruffy half beard shadowing his jaw, the too-long hair falling over his forehead - and feel her heart beat with love for this unconventional man. Darius's grip softened on her wrist until his fingers were tracing tiny circles over the sensitive skin. "I told them that I had met a woman who wasn't afraid to stand toe-to-toe with me. A woman who had seen my flaws and learned my darkest secrets, yet didn't immediately run for the hills." His self-deprecating chuckle coaxed a reluctant smile from her, the sound soothing the sharp edges of her turmoil. "I told them how this woman seemed instinctively to know when to comfort and when to confront, and how I was better with her in my life than I'd ever been on my own. — Karen Witemeyer

All the people around Hester hate her and despise her and think she's a total freak. The kid's beyond human law and human consideration. How do you feel about yourself when every human being you hear and see and smell every day of your being thinks you're worse than garbage? Your conception of who you are has always, at least partially, depended on how the people around you behaved towards you ... You don't know. How can you know anything? How can you know anything? You begin to go crazy. — Kathy Acker

As Harry and Ron rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them.
It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them.
"Congratulations, Harry!' she said beaming at him. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?"
"Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "Goodbye! — J.K. Rowling

I get it now. Why Noah put that art room together for Allie. It wasn't because he was a vagina; it was because he didn't have a choice. She was it for him. No matter what he did, there was never gonna be anyone but her. So all he could do was set up the room and hope to God that one day she'd show up to use it. And that pretty much sums up exactly how I feel about you. So I did this - " I gesture around the room " - because I want you in my life, Kate. Permanently. — Emma Chase

You are young and energetic," she said. "It is a healthy thing for you to do. Why would I be offended? Do I suddenly own your sex, that I should be worried about you giving it away?" Vashet stopped as if something had just occurred to her. She turned to look at me. "Are you offended that I have been having sex with others all this while?" She watched my face intently. "I see you are startled by it." "I am startled," I admitted. Then I did a mental inventory and was surprised to discover I wasn't sure how I felt. "I feel I ought to be offended," I said at last. "But I don't think I am." Vashet nodded approvingly. "That is a good sign. It shows you are becoming civilized. The other feeling is what you were brought up to think. It is like an old shirt that no longer fits you. And now, when you look at it closely, you can see it was ugly to begin with. — Patrick Rothfuss

I recall vividly the night before one of my own early surgeries, an eight-hour affair that would alter my body permanently. I was twenty-seven and unmarried at the time. Late in the evening a pleasant elderly woman, a technical aide, had come to my hospital room to shave my abdomen in preparation for the procedure. As she went about this humble task with great skill, she had asked me about the next day's surgery. Filled with resentment, self-pity, and a sense of victimhood, I told her what was planned and burst into tears. She had seemed quite surprised. "How would YOU feel if they were going to do this to YOU tomorrow?" I asked her angrily. she had taken my question literally and had thought it over. Then, patting me gently, she had said, "If I needed it to live, I would be glad for the help." Her answer had changed everything. — Rachel Naomi Remen

It's not about who loves her. It's about how you love her. You have to learn the difference between what she says, and what she means. Don't just make her laugh. Try and understand why she smiles. Plenty have told her she's beautiful, but can you make her feel that way too? There's a difference, see. Compliments might cage her, while empowerment sets her free. My God, what matters to her is not just who flatters her. There's a language to her love you'll need to learn. Speak it true, and I promise you, the best of her, is what you'll earn. — J. Raymond

It makes Brooke feel strange in her stomach. It is like the feeling when she reads a book like the one about the man with the bomb, or thinks a sentence, just any old sentence like: the girl ran across the park, and unless you add the describing word then the man or the girl are definitely not black, they are white, even though no one has mentioned white, like when you take the the out of a headline and people just assume it's there anyway. Though if it were a sentence about Brooke herself you'd have to add the equivalent describing word and that's how you'd know. The black girl ran across the park. — Ali Smith

He looks at me. His face is dotted with raindrops but I think there are tears too.
'I love her. I always have. You know that.'
'And me?'
And I known he means how I feel about him and me kissing him.
'You're my friend, Gabriel.'
'Do you kiss all your friends like that?' But he asks it without the harshness of his other questions. It's a real question.
'Just you. — Sally Green

So how do you feel about it?" "I'm not upset, but my mom was crying and it's the first time I've ever seen her cry. Dad always wanted whiskey poured on his grave, so my brother said, 'I just hope he doesn't mind me filtering it through my bladder first.'" Mystery — Neil Strauss

I thought I might be a little crazy." "You still might be," she said. "I'm not a good touchstone to use for judging your sanity." "Do you feel crazy?" She shook her head, a half smile curling the corner of her mouth. "No. How about you?" "Not particularly." "That's either good or bad, depending," she said. "How do you propose we go about solving the mystery of the ages? — Patrick Rothfuss

Bronwen came over plenty of Saturdays after that, but I was always shy of her. I think I must have fallen in love with Bronwen even then and I must have been in love with her all my life since. It is silly to think a child could fall in love. If you think about it like that, mind. But I am the child that was, and nobody knows how I feel, except only me. And I think I fell in love with Bronwen that Saturday on the Hill.
Still, that is past. — Richard Llewellyn

Recently I was having a conversation with a mom who is trying to wrestle through the implications of grace in her parenting methods and responsibilities. She admitted that she had read too many books. She had exhausted herself trying to be a good mom and meet all the needs of all her children, raising them for the Lord ... Now, in the middle of all her pain and exhaustion, she's trying to embrace grace but continues to be crippled by fear and guilt. "I wish I had never read those books," she admitted. "I feel guilty and exhausted all the time." I asked her, "How would you raise your children if all you had was the Bible?" "Well, I guess I would love them, discipline them, and tell them about Jesus." I smiled and answered, "Right. — Elyse M. Fitzpatrick

It just makes me realize how ... fleeting life can be. How quickly it all passes by. And it's strange to read something written by someone whose life was really just beginning then but who's dead now."
He nodded, looking like he was taking that in. But then he said, "That's kinda deep, Daisy."
She laughed, rolled her eyes. "Well, you asked. So if that's too deep for you, tell me about your fish."
"Well, they were small and blue and I feel emotional because their lives were really just starting but they're dead now. — Toni Blake

The thing is," I said, "that to be what I am, I need to feel the way I do about you. No matter how you feel about me."

"I feel good about you," she said. "I do love you, you know."

"Yeah. But even if you didn't. The way I feel about you is my problem, not yours. And it's absolute. It can't be compromised. It could exist without you."

"Dead or alive," Susan said. In her face was that quality of serious amusement that so often invested her. — Robert B. Parker

Here's how I feel: People take one another for granted. Like, I'd just hang out with Ingrid in all these random places
in her room or at school or just on a sidewalk somewhere. And the whole time we'd tell eachother things, just say our thoughts outloud. Maybe that would have been boring to some people, but it was never boring to us. I never realized what a big deal that was. How amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head. You just think that things will stay the way they are. You never look up, in a moment that feels like every other moment of your life, and think, "Soon this will be over." But I understand more now. About how life works. — Nina LaCour

You need to understand something. Forgiveness isn't an emotion. It's an action, and it's a choice. It's the choice to not let the past affect how you feel about her. — Elizabeth Finn

That works for now." Eve's stomach began to clench and jitter. There were tears swimming in her aide's eyes. Peabody's lips were quivering. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Nothing. Sir."
"How come you're going to cry? You know how I feel about crying on the job."
"I'm not crying." And it appalled her that she was on the edge of it. "I just don't feel very well, that's all. I wonder, sir, if I could be excused from the briefing at sixteen hundred. — J.D. Robb

Yes. Kissing. Overrated."
"I could change your mind," Zach said, surprising the hell out of them both. Why would he take something as simple as this banter as a challenge? "I don't know that I want to, but I feel right sure I could."
"How arrogant. How typically male."
"I suppose." He shrugged and reached for the wine bottle. "More?"
She nodded, frowning now. "How do you know you could change my mind? It's been a long time since you ... well - "
"Over two years." The pain was there, an ache in his chest he imagined he would feel every time he thought of Hannah.
And he thought of her every day. Dreamed of her about as often. But lately, maybe only in the past week, he'd begun to realize that his life had not ended with his wife's.
He either had to die or start living again. — Tracy Sumner

How can you be so optimistic about the whole damn world but not about yourself?"
"My magic, you mean."
"Your neck, Pen."
She drew her head back as if he'd just shouted. His words struck her that forcefully.
"My . . . ?"
"I adore your neck. And your eyes. Do you know how long it's been since I thought the word 'indigo'? Maybe when I read it in a poem, years ago. But that's the color you use to stare at me."
Heat shivered up her spine, along the tops of her breasts and across her cheeks. Never. Not ever had she imagined such a treasure. So shocked, she said the first thing that came into her head. Pure instinct.
"Yours are like a clear piece of glass with the sky behind it."
He grinned lazily. "Is that what you think? Well, feel free to continue. — Ellen Connor

She grabbed the bills. "Alright, you rat bastard, you win." She stuffed the money in her back pocket.
"But I'm only taking it because I'm greedy and desperate, and because there's no door on that room so you can't get too frisky.
"Fair enough."
"I mean it, Dean. If you try to cop even one feel ... "
"Me? What about you?" His eyes slid over her like cool icing on hot spice cake. "How about this, double or nothing."
"What are you taking about?"
"You touch me first, I keep the hundred. I touch you first, you get two hundred. Nobody touches anybody, the deals stands as is."
She thought it over, but couldn't see any immediate loopholes other than the threat of her inner-slut emerging, and she could darn well control that little bitch. "Deal. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

I love its potential. I hate its past. And I don't like what it is.' She hugs her knees close to her chest. 'The way you feel about the place you grew up in is a lot like how you feel about your family. — Robert Jackson Bennett

I know about love. I know about wanting and dreaming and wishing with every piece of your soul. I know enough to recognize the parts that are real and the parts that are only fantasy.' ... 'Like when she cries and my heart tears into little shreds and all I can think about is making her forget the source of her saddness.' ... 'Thats real.' ... 'And fantisy?' 'Believing she might ever feel the same way.' ... 'Why didn't you tell her? The girl you love. Why didn't you tell her how you feel?' ... 'Because,' ... 'she doesn't want to know. — Tera Lynn Childs

As you say, DeWar, our shame comes from the comparison. We know we might be generous and compassionate and good, and could behave so, yet something else in our nature makes us otherwise." She smiled a small, empty smile. "Yes, I feel something I recognise as love. Something I remember, something I may discuss and mill and theorise over." She shook her head. "But it is not something I know. I am like a blind woman taking about how a tree must look, or a cloud. Love is something I have a dim memory of, the way someone who went blind in their early childhood might recall the sun, or the face of their mother. I know affection from my fellow whore-wives, DeWar, and I sense regard from you and feel some in return. I have a duty to the Protector, just as he feels he has a duty to me. As far as that goes, I am content. But love? That is for the living, and I am dead. — Iain M. Banks

I use the chopsticks to outline the biggest heart possible. Then I use the Sweet'N Low packets to fill it in. I borrow some from two other tables when I run out.
When I'm done, I point to the heart on the table.
"This," I say, "is only about one ninety-millionth of how I feel about you."
She laughs.
"I'll try not to take it personally," she says.
"Take what personally?" I say. "You should take it very personally."
"The fact that you used artificial sweetener?"
I take a Sweet'N Low and fling it at her.
"Not everything is a symbol!" I shout. — David Levithan

Of course, when you fall out of love, it's rarely about just one failure or one betrayal, is it? ...
How does it happen? All those things you once loved about each other are replaced by other things that remind you of something you hate until you're always setting each other off, and what you share is a battleground. In the end, the failure turns out to be less about sex - which surprises most men - and more about loss of respect. One morning your partner looks at you across the bed and wonders at the waywardness of her own heart - how, she asks herself, can she feel such disdain for someone she once felt such love? — Frederick Weisel

Does that feel better?" she asked, not expecting any sort of an answer but feeling nonetheless that she ought to continue with her one-sided conversation. "I really don't know very much about caring for the ill, but it just seems to me like you'd want something cool on your brow. I know if I were sick, that's how I'd feel."
He shifted restlessly, mumbling something utterly incoherent.
"Really?" Sophie replied, trying to smile but failing miserably. "I'm glad you feel that way."
He mumbled something else.
"No," she said, dabbing the cool cloth on his ear, "I'd have to agree with what you said the first time." He went still again.
"I'd be happy to reconsider," she said worriedly. "Please don't take offense." He didn't move.
Sophie sighed. One could only converse so long with an unconscious man before one started to feel extremely silly. — Julia Quinn

She bit her tongue on the obvious, and said, "How do I go about being an enchantress?"
Henry warmed to his subject. At thirty, he was an adviser. Maybe because he was a lawyer. "First," he said dispassionately, "hold your tongue. Don't argue with a man, especially when you know you can beat him. Smile a lot. Make him feel big. Tell him how wonderful he is, and wait on him."
She smiled brilliantly and said, "Hank, I agree with everything you've said. You are the most perspicacious individual I've met in years, you are six feet five, and may I light your cigarette? How's that?"
"Awful."
They were friends again. (Chapter 1) — Harper Lee

Sometimes I hate the girl I was back then. It's like how, when you see a horror movie, you can't help but feel contempt for the virgin who goes for a walk in the woods after midnight. How can she be so stupid? Doesn't she know she's about to get gruesomely hacked to death?
She should know. That's why it's so hard to watch. Because you want her to know. You want her to defend herself, and you look down on her for not knowing, even though obviously it's the guy who hacks her up who's at fault. — Robin York

I know you want her back, kid. And I know that people saying things like 'there are plenty more fish in the sea' is only going to make you hurt more. And I could tell you all about the science of what your brain is going through right now. How it's processing a pain as intense as hitting a nerve in your tooth, but it can't find a source for that pain, so you kind of feel it everywhere. I could tell you that when you fall for someone, the bits of your brain that light up are the same as when you're hungry or thirsty. And I could tell you that when the person you love leaves you, you starve for them, you crave them, Heartbreak is a science, like love. So trust me when I say this: you're wounded right now, but you'll heal. — Krystal Sutherland

Then I lean back and take in the side of her, every speck of flesh, every freckle, every line of ink she has. So fucking gorgeous I can't stand it. I feel like I'm about to combust. I want her so badly that my body is throbbing, my veins pulsating with desire and need.
The need to be with her.
Forever.
And ever.
And ever.
And when I open my mouth to say it, this time it's different - this time it means more than the first time I said it, because I know I can say it and it'll be welcomed not feared.
"I love you too, Violet Hayes," I whisper then let my lips crash against her showing her with my mouth just how much I mean it.
God, do I fucking mean it. More than anything else in my life. — Jessica Sorensen

There's a line in The Barretts of Wimpole Street - you know, the play - where Elizabeth Barrett is trying to work out the meaning of one of Robert Browning's poems, and she shows it to him, and he reads it and he tells her when he wrote that poem, only God and Robert Browning knew what it meant, and now only God knows. And that's how I feel about studying English. Who knows what the writer was thinking, and why should it matter? I'd rather just read for enjoyment. — Susanna Kearsley

If you EVER touch her again, you're a dead man! You got that? There'll be no lawsuit filed against you man, I'll just settle this old school. I don't know how you feel about having your fingers ripped off and shoved up your own arse, but let me tell you, I won't be gentle. — Shelly Pratt

How would you feel about sharing your bed?" she asked.
Tristan blinked. "Excuse me?"
"He'd love to!" Gary said.
Tristan shot him a look,
"Good," said Ivy, failing to notice Gary's wink. "Ella can be a pillow hog, but all you have to do is roll over her. — Elizabeth Chandler

Everyone's fascinated by twins - the bond between them, the way they communicate - "
"He yells 'Hey, stupid!' That's how Charlie communicates with me."
"Very funny. Come on, it's a great idea! And since I know you both so well, I won't feel weird interviewing you. It can be an in-depth, sensitive, soul-searching kind of thing."
"Charlie has no depth." Frowning, Emma considered the matter, then shook her head. "The soul part I'm not so sure about, but you can definitely rule out sensitive. — Richie Tankersley Cusick

bit of inaccurate information that somehow concerned crop or commodity market information or conditions. It does not matter whether you sent that message by telephone or mail or telegraph. It does not matter who you sent that letter to. It does not matter whether the information was actually false, or merely misleading. It does not matter whether your note actually had any effect on market prices anywhere, or even whether you intended for it to have that effect. The way this law was written by the morons in Congress, you are guilty of a felony if you send a postcard to your grandmother in a nursing home, trying to make her feel better by lying about how nice the weather has been in Florida, or how low the gas prices have been. And you will not find this law in Title 18 either; this one is buried in the bowels of Title 7 (sec. 13), which lists the laws supposedly regulating "Agriculture." Even — James Duane

Now that I have a daughter, I've been thinking about how I'll define beauty to her. I watched a video of Kendall when she was three, and she was putting on makeup. I don't know how I feel about that. But my daughter already watches me do it. When do you let them start wearing it? I don't know yet. — Kourtney Kardashian

She explained why all the normal acts of life had become small acts of rebellion and political insubordination to her and to other young people like her. All her life she was shielded. She was never let out of sight; she never had a private corner in which to think, to feel, to dream, to write. She was not allowed to meet any young men on her own. Her family not only instructed her on how to behave around men - they seemed to think they could tell her how she should feel about them as well. What seems natural to someone like you, she said, is so strange and unfamiliar to me. — Azar Nafisi

Friendship isn't partying with a group of people to get drunk or chatting with him/her once a week, it's exactly the opposite. Friends make sure you get home safely and they help you when you need it, no matter the scenario. They don't care about what clothes you wear or what you look like, and they don't last for a day. Real friends are more interested in what direction your life is headed rather than your popularity. They care about what you have to say and how you feel, and once you meet this person you'll know it without having to think twice. — Morgan Tang

Ana Iris once asked me if I loved him and I told her about the lights in my old home in the capital, how they flickered and you never knew if they would go out or not. You put down your things and you waited and couldn't do anything really until the lights decided. This, I told her, is how I feel. — Junot Diaz

Kerrigan?" she tried again.
"Aye, Lady Mouse. I am here."
Relieved, she smiled at the sound of his voice in her head. During the day, he was oft silent. But at night ... at night he would speak softly to her and tell her of his travels through time as he eluded those who were after him.
"Where are you today, my lord?"
"I'm in Venice, during a carnival. It's beautiful here. There are minstrels and acrobats all around. Plenty of places to hide from Morgen and her spies."
"You are safe?"
"Aye, Lady Mouse. I am always safe. But I've no wish to talk about me. How are you doing?"
"I miss you."
She swore she could feel his pain as well as her own.
"I miss you as well and I think of you constantly."
-Kerrigan and Seren communicating though their thoughts as they were apart. — Kinley MacGregor

Pulling back, he gave her a little space and grinned as she found her balance again.
"Do you think that will ever get old?" Harper asked with an embarrassed blush.
"Christ, I hope not. Just remember how you feel right now because you might be really mad at me in about one minute."
"Uh-oh. I don't think I like the sound of that." Harper raised an eyebrow at him.
He took her hand and led her toward the studio before pulling her in front of him, her back to his chest. It was the safest position to avoid a kick in the nuts and the best position to block a fast escape.
He felt Harper's quick intake of breath as she turned to face him with a hand over her mouth.
"What did you do?" she said through her fingers.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart." He pushed her through the door as everyone inside shouted, "Surprise! — Scarlett Cole

We still should have enough time to reach Rome."
Hazel scowled. "When you say should have enough ... "
Leo shrugged. "How do you feel about barely enough?"
Hazel put her face in her hands for a count of three. "Sounds about typical for us. — Rick Riordan

Usually when her mom gave her warnings like this, Elena would just give her a thumbs up. Like, No prob, Bob.

Because it really wasn't a problem. Avoid men? Done! This had literally never been an issue for her. When other girls complained about how to deal with unwanted male attention, Elena wouldn't feel jealous exactly, but she would feel curious - how does one go about attracting such attention? And is it impossible to attract just some of it? Just a small, manageable amount? Or was attention from boys all or nothing, like a tap that, once you'd found it, you could never turn off? — Rainbow Rowell

His hand came to her neck, his fingers tracing the corded muscle there, and she knew he could feel her pulse racing. "You think I did not miss you?" She froze at the words, her breath coming shallow, desperate for him to say more. "You think I did not miss everything about you? Everything you represented?" He pressed against her, his breath soft against her temple. She closed her eyes. How had they found themselves here, in this place where he was so dark and so broken? "You think I did not want to come home?" His voice was thick with emotion. "But there was no home to which I could return. There was no one there." "You're wrong," she argued. "I was there. I was there . . . and I was . . ." Alone. She swallowed. "I was there. — Sarah MacLean

The moment I start to feel that sinking feeling of dissatisfaction welling up in me, I know I need to message a friend, give her a call, or post a note telling her what I love about what she's doing. I need to deliberately write down how all the ways she's running confidently in her lane inspire me. Because the more I focus on how her work blesses, the less I'm able to want it for myself. It's hard to hate something that inspires you. — Lisa-Jo Baker

I was living alone before, Campbell, if that's what you're asking." She looks at me over the edge of her wine glass. "How about you?"
"I have six wives, fifteen children, and an assortment of sheep."
Her lips curve. "People like you always make me feel like I'm underachieving. — Jodi Picoult

Now, what I'm worried about is how we're going to be dividing the reward money when this is all over. Because this ship is starting to feel awfully crowded and I'm not sure I'm happy with all of you cutting into my profits."
"What reward money?" asked Scarlet.
"The reward Cinder's going to pay us out of the Lunar treasury once she's queen."
Cinder rolled her eyes. "I should have guessed. — Marissa Meyer

Lee asked, "How does Mrs. Hamilton feel about the paradoxes of the Bible?" "Why, she does not feel anything because she does not admit they are there." "But - " "Hush, man. Ask her. And you'll come out of it older but not less confused." Adam — John Steinbeck

I don't hate you, Jace."
"I don't hate you, either."
She looked up at him, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that - "
"I wish I could hate you," he said. His voice was light, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I think I do hate you and then I see you and I - "
Her hands had grown numb with their grip on the blanket. "And you what?"
"What do you think?" Jace shook his head. "Why should I tell you everything
about how I feel when you never tell me anything? It's like banging my head on a
wall, except at least if I were banging my head on a wall, I'd be able to make myself stop."
Clary's lips were trembling so violently that she found it hard to speak. "Do you think it's easy for me?" she demanded. — Cassandra Clare

If it makes you feel any better, he's been all sad doll lately too."
"What are you talking about, Chels?"
Chelsea stopped walking and stared at Violet.
"Jay. I'm talking about Jay, Vi. I thought you might want to know that you're not the only one who's hurting. He's been moping around school, making it hard to even look at him. He's messed up ... bad." Just like the other night in Violet's bedroom, something close to ... sympathy crossed Chelsea's face.
Violet wasn't sure how to respond.
Fortunately sympathetic Chelsea didn't stick around for long. She seemed to get a grip on herself, and like a switch had been flipped, the awkward moment was over and her friend was back, Chelsea-style: "I swear, every time I see him, I'm halfway afraid he's gonna start crying like a girl or ask to borrow a tampon or something. Seriously, Violet, it's disgusting. Really. Only you can make it stop. Please make it stop. — Kimberly Derting

He stroked her pale cheek with his thumb, willing her to open those dark gypsy eyes he loved so much. He needed her impish gaze, her light laughter and intoxicating touch. He needed everything about her. She'd made him feel more alive than when he was human. Needing her kiss as much as he needed blood to survive, he pressed his lips to hers. "I beg of you, wake. Please, my precious Angel," he prayed as he held her in his arms. "Wake so I can tell you how sorry I am, and how much I love you. God, I love you." He couldn't say the words enough. "I love you. I love you." He repeated the litany over and over again until exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep, still clinging to her with a vow never to let her go again. — Brooklyn Ann

As we drove I remembered how I had told myself I would make Simon happy. I didn't feel the same person. For I now knew that I had been stuffing myself up with a silly fairy tale, that I could never mean to him what Rose had meant. I think I knew it first as I watched his face while he listened to her singing, and then more and more, as he talked about the whole wretched business - not angrily or bitterly, but quietly and without ever saying a word against Rose. But most of all I knew it because a change in myself. Perhaps watching someone you love suffer can teach you more than suffering yourself can.
Long before we got back to the castle, with all my heart and for my own heart's ease as well as his, I would have given her back to him if I could. — Dodie Smith

You know what I used to dream about, in stir?" His voice was hoarse, the words low and fast and faintly guttural. "I used to dream about you. You were the only clean and good and decent thing left in my life, and I would dream about you. I used to dream about taking your clothes off piece by piece, and what you would look like naked, and how it would feel to fuck you really good. I used to dream about that in high school, too. In fact, I got off almost every night for the last fourteen years, dreaming about you." Rachel's lips parted with shock. Speechless, she stared at him wide-eyed for what seemed an eternity while her heart suddenly hammered and her throat went dry.
"I'm fucking tired of dreaming, — Karen Robards

Because the thing about Nena was that she never failed to make you feel better after you'd spent time with her. She had an easy laugh and a quick smile, and she was the best listener. One of Honey's friends called her on Sunday morning and made the comment that it's hard to lose someone who was your biggest fan. And that's how Nena was. She made us all feel like she was our biggest fan. — Melanie Shankle

Sometimes I feel she hasn't left ... especially when I wear the photo charm necklace with her picture in it.
I can't tell you how many young men have stared into that picture and the reaction is always the same: a slow beam rises across their faces and they want to know all about her.
They become entranced the way Dana Andrews did when he first saw Gene Tierney's portrait in "Laura." I know Maria finds all of this quite amusing; why shouldn't she? 'Laura' is her middle name. — Pamela Palmer Mutino

Kaoru." "Hikaru? How long have you been there? "Kaoru, how do you feel about Haruhi?" "She's a funny little tanuki." "You don't have to lie to me. Sorry that I didn't realize it until now. I know you've been worrying about me, but you don't have to lie anymore. You like Haruhi too, don't you?" "What are you talking about, Hikaru? I don't
" "Then how about this? You know we talked about adopting Haruhi. That's the best solution. That way the three of us will always be together." "Are you completely stupid, Hikaru? Adopting Haruhi was just a joke. We're not playing house. It'd never happen. I'm so fed up with your childishness!!" "Kaoru ... " "Besides, would you be happy being a threesome forever? You really want to share Haruhi with me? That's not what I want!" "Kaoru ... ?" "I won't share her with you or milord! Especially ... If your willing to just give her up like that! I'll never step aside for you if that's the case! — Bisco Hatori

Devote yourself to your partner's sense of safety and security and not simply to your idea about what that should be. What may make you feel safe and secure may not be what your partner requires from you. Your job is to know what matters to your partner and how to make him or her feel safe and secure. — Stan Tatkin

I want to tell you something." He placed her palm against her cheek, rough with stubble. "In my life, I've been with women I didn't care about and women I cared a great deal about. But I've never been with a woman who makes me feel the way you do." He lowered his head and whispered against her lips, "Sometimes when I look at you, it's hard to breath. When you touch me, I don't care about breathing." He kissed her slow and sweet, and with each press of his lips and touch of his tongue, her heart swelled and ached. It was wonderful and awful and brand-new. Then he pulled back to say, "I don't know how this is all going to work out, but I want to be with you. You are important to me. — Rachel Gibson

I noted about Cate Blanchett was her very positive lack of concern for how she turns out in [Cinderella]. She is happy to be a villainess and very pleased to be encouraged as I did with her to reveal this backstory and feel as though this was very human, that this broken heart of hers, if you might regard it that way, would be visible, but she never played for sympathy and I really admired that about her, so she's just there, she just is and uncompromisingly. — Kenneth Branagh

I think the reason a lot of celebrities feel insecure and want to stop eating altogether is because they see so many pictures of themselves on a daily basis. It's unhealthy how many times you see your own image - it's just constant. When you see something enough, you're going to tear it down to the point where some days you feel like you're not even pretty. I get insecure about my eyes because I once read a blog comment that said, "Her eyes are so small." I thought, Are my eyes small? Oh no - they are! — Taylor Swift

The things you remember about a person when they're gone are funny. No two people will feel the same way, though usually it has to do with scent, or expression, the sound of a voice, an unusual gesture. For me, I can still see the colors of Keiko; the black of her hair against creamy pale skin, her dark blue kimono with white circles, the deep orange persimmons falling from the brown basket she carried. The ache in my heart grows larger every time I think of these colors, and how as each day passes they continue to fade from my eyes. — Gail Tsukiyama

There isn't a single spot I'll miss tonight, my wife." Blake pulled her against him, tilting her head until he could kiss her again. His fingers and lips made her moan. He placed a hand on her stomach and the other behind her neck. "How many times can I make you come before you can't take it anymore?"
"I think we might have one to count already."
"Really? Just from talking? Imagine what'll happen when you feel my tongue inside you." Blake backed her up against the bed.
"Get on the bed, Livia. That lingerie is about to be a very pretty necklace. — Debra Anastasia

How? It's obvious. You told me yourself, Lou is like your Bertha - she's an automaton, playing her role, the same role, with me, with you, with one man after the other. The particular man is incidental. She seduced both of us in the same way, with the same female deviousness, the same guile, the same gestures, the same promises!" "And yet this automaton controls you. She dominates your mind: you worry about her opinion, you pine for her touch." "No. No pining. No longer. What I feel now is rage. — Irvin D. Yalom

All the while I was trying to figure out if I knew anyone who had married and stayed in love for decades. I thought about Daddy and Momma. Daddy had loved Momma with a great passion. Everyone knew that. But, why? I knew why! The ugly truth was that he loved her because of how she made him feel, not because of who she was. Was that the nature of a man's love for a woman? Not what you bring to the table, but how you make him feel? I was drinking a cup — Dorothea Benton Frank

Beauty is everywhere and it comes in all different forms. Many times I don't find a size zero girl amazing, I find her really shockingly thin or small, and I think that beauty comes in all different forms. Beauty is about how you feel. There are plenty of people who are amazing to look at who are super beautiful, and then there are plenty of people who are easy to look at who are not beautiful at all, they open their mouth or they have an attitude or they are cruel, and they look hideous suddenly. — Kelly Cutrone

It is so inspiring when you come across a woman who is very strong and dedicated and is amazing at what they do. That's how I feel about Meryl Streep. You watch her, and you can't help but notice all of that about her. She's so influential. — Agyness Deyn

Another voice rages.
I hate that boy! I hate me! I am so incredibly stupid!
A sunflower leans over the fence, smiling
How dare you!
I rip off its head and throw it in the gutter.
The smart thing to do is to keep going on. Walk away quickly and no one will know what I've done. But I can't move because my eyes are locked on the slowly opening front door - locked on Mrs Muir.
'I'm sorry.' My tiny voice sounds so pathetically lame, but I've still got more lameness for her. 'I never do this sort of thing. I like sunflowers. I was just angry about something - nothing to do with you or the flower. I'm really, really sorry.'
'Oh, you are upset! Well, never mind'. Mrs Muir comes closer to me. 'Goodness, we all get cross. The main thing is: did it make you feel any better?'
'No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit.'
'Would you like to do another one? There's more out the back, too. You go for your life dear. I don't mind at all - they need a good pruning. — Bill Condon

But the best managers have the solution: Ask. Ask your employee about her goals: What are you shooting for in your current role? Where do you see your career heading? What personal goals would you feel comfortable sharing with me? How often do you want to meet to talk about your progress? — Marcus Buckingham

I take my pen from my breast pocket and reach for Fitz's hand, write the still-unfamiliar address down on his palm. "Tell her I'll be home as soon as I can. Tell her to call me so I know how Sophie's doing. And if you can work it into the conversation, feel free to break the news about the arraignment."
As I head down the hall, Fitz's laughter follows me. "Coward," he calls out.
I look over my shoulder and grin. "Sucker," I answer. — Jodi Picoult

The problem with being an alpha is that you can never make the first move.
Makes you feel like you're taking advantage of your position. You have to wait until
the other person decides they want in."
Jim set the basket on the coffee table and crouched by me.
"And sometimes it seems like that person likes you, and you try to test the waters,
so you try to tell her how you feel, that she matters and that you want to be with her
and you're concerned about her safety. And every time you do that, she waves her
arms around and accuses you of being a controlling alpha asshole. So you back off
and hope you didn't completely fuck it up."
He was close, too close. I just stared at him. What was happening ... "Why are
you telling me this?"
His voice was low and smooth. "That time when I told you it didn't matter what
your mother thought about your looks ... "
"Aha ... "
"I meant it," he said. "Because I think you're beautiful. — Ilona Andrews

From a distance,' he says, 'my car looks just like every other car on the freeway, and Sarah Byrnes looks just like the rest of us. And if she's going to get help, she'll get it from herself or she'll get it from us. Let me tell you why I brought this up. Because the other day when I saw how hard it was for Mobe to go to the hospital to see her, I was embarrassed that I didn't know her better, that I ever laughed at one joke about her. I was embarrassed that I let some kid go to school with me for twelve years and turned my back on pain that must be unbearable. I was embarrassed that I haven't found a way to include her somehow the way Mobe has.'
Jesus. I feel tears welling up, and I see them running down Ellerby's cheeks. Lemry better get a handle on this class before it turns into some kind of therapy group.
So,' Lemry says quietly, 'your subject will be the juxtaposition of man and God in the universe?'
Ellerby shakes his head. 'My subject will be shame. — Chris Crutcher