I Want You Christmas Quotes & Sayings

My brothers and I love A Christmas Story. It reminds us of ourselves when we were that age."
"Your father didn't want to give you a BB shotgun because you might shoot your eye out? — Terry Spear

In my mind, she was Lebkuchen Spice - ironic, Germanic, sexy, and off beat. And, mein Gott, the girl could bake a damn fine cookie ... to the point that I wanted to answer her What do you want for Christmas? with a simple More cookies, please!
But no. She warned me not to be a smart-ass, and while that answer was totally sincere, I was afraid she would think I was joking or,
worse, kissing up.
It was a hard question, especially if I had to batten down the sarcasm. I mean, there was the beauty pageant answer of world peace, although I'd probably have to render it in the beauty pageant spelling of world peas. I could play the boo-hoo orphan card and wish for my whole family to be together, but that was the last thing I wanted, especially at this late date. — David Levithan

Why is he following me? Why are you following me?" He grabbed her arm. "D'Sayre is trying to learn your secrets. Me? I just want a kiss." He pulled her into his embrace and pressed his lips to hers. — Laurel O'Donnell

What do I need to do to get you to trust me? What do you want from me?" He yells. I steel myself and look up into his panicked eyes and fight the pull I feel at coming in contact with those sapphires again. "Nothing! I don't want anything from you!" I shout out the biggest lie I have ever told in my entire life. Connor's eyes widen at my words and his face falls, every ounce of fire gone from his gaze. He backs away then smiles weakly at me.
"Well, Merry Fucking Christmas Nina, because you have it all anyway. — Devon Herrera

Maybe I'll get you a painting for Christmas," I said.
"We don't buy Christmas presents for each other," Edward said.
We were both staring at the fireplace as if visualizing that make-believe fire. "Maybe I'll start. One of those big-eyed children or a clown on velvet."
"I won't hang it if I don't like it."
I glanced at him. "Unless it's from Donna."
He was very still suddenly. "Yes."
"Maybe I'll tell her how much you love those pictures of dogs playing poker and she can buy you some prints."
"She wouldn't believe it," he said.
"No, but I bet I could come up with something that she would believe that you'd hate just as much."
He stared at me. "You wouldn't."
"I might."
"This sounds like the opening to blackmail. What do you want? — Laurell K. Hamilton

When you have kids, you instantly feel that you do not want to do them wrong. Those dads that go off to Florida and start a new life, I couldn't imagine that: seeing my kid once every Christmas, every three years. If I'm gone for six days it feels like too much. — Adam Carolla

Do you mind if I call you?" Adam asked.
"You can if you want to," Patrice replied as she unlocked her dorm room door.
"Can I get your number?"
"You already have it."
"I do?"
"Check your right pocket in your jacket. — Daria White

I don't want to be married because it's convenient, or because it's the right thing to do for bloody Duntarvie Estate."
"I couldn't give a shit about Duntarvie Estate. I want to marry you because I love you." This came out as almost a shout. Roderick looked at her, furious.
"Fine." Kate snapped back at him, irritated.
"Fine." He turned away from her, picking up the axe again.
"Right. That's that sorted."
"Right. — Rachael Lucas

Before we light the Yule log, I want to give you this. You have been a very good girl this year, and a wonderful daughter." He held something out to her. Jaclyn hadn't noticed he was carrying anything. She looked down to see he was holding a branch with green leaves and white berries. She gasped, "It's beautiful!" and took the branch from his hand. "The berries reminded me of the winter snow," her father said softly. Jaclyn nodded. "But the green leaves belong in the summer!" She looked up at him. "The trees have long since lost their leaves. Where did you find it?" "I had to travel very far to find it." he told her, leaning in to add, "It's magical. — Laurel O'Donnell

I want a date with you, Lieutenant, seeing as our Sunday plans were aborted."
"I thought dates went out with the I do's. Isn't that in the marriage rule book?"
"You didn't read the fine print. Christmas Eve, barring emergencies. You and me, in the parlor. We'll open our gifts, drink a great deal of Christmas cheer, and take turns banging each other's brains out."
"Will there be cookies?"
"Without a doubt."
"I'm there. — J.D. Robb

I know what I really want for Christmas.
I want my childhood back.
Nobody is going to give me that. I might give at least the memory of it to myself if I try. I know it doesn't make sense, but since when is Christmas about sense, anyway? It is about a child, of long ago and far away, and it is about the child of now. In you and me. Waiting behind the door of or hearts for something wonderful to happen. A child who is impractical, unrealistic, simpleminded and terribly vulnerable to joy. — Robert Fulghum

Tanith has a sword.' said Valkyrie. 'I want a stick.'
'I'll get you a stick for Christmas — Derek Landy

So what did you want to talk to Wesley about?" he asked me.
"Kelly likes him," I said. "So I figured while we were discussing Lady Macbeth's insanity and Duncan's murder, I could, you know, casually find out if he likes her too."
Colton didn't blink. "He likes her."
"He does? How do you know?"
He shrugged like it was a silly question. "We talk sometimes. He told me on the drive over he hoped she would be here."
"Then why hasn't he ever asked her out?"
"He's shy. And we're in the middle of wrestling season, midterms, and Christmas." Colton picked up the liter of soda. "Have a little patience."
I reached for the bowl of popcorn, but didn't start out of the kitchen yet. "Well can I hurry him along? Is there any chance he'll ask her out before this weekend?"
Colton shook his head at me, then walked toward the living room. "You're not quite grasping the nature of patience, Charlotte. — Janette Rallison

Speaking of ... does this mean you get your phone back?" I shrug. "I don't really want that phone back. I'm hoping my whipped boyfriend will get me an iPhone for Christmas. — Colleen Hoover

And she just takes it, drinking me down, sucking my cock with sharp tugs that have me babbling demands. "God, honey, promise you'll marry me one day. I have to have this for the rest of our lives. Forever. Always. Fuck."
She releases me with a long pull, her finger sliding away. My skin prickles. I feel vaguely empty, my body sore in places I don't want to think about. And as she slowly kisses her way up my stomach, I'm still babbling. "Give it to me on Christmas. Birthdays." Her tongue flicks in my belly button. I grunt, my hips twitching. "My days off. Major holidays. Midnight surprises ... " Mac licks my nipple, and I shiver, my voice going raspy. "Twice on Tuesdays. — Kristen Callihan

I used to tell interviewers that I wrote every day except for Christmas, the Fourth of July, and my birthday. That was a lie. I told them that because if you agree to an interview you have to say something, and it plays better if it's something at least half-clever. Also, I didn't want to sound like a workaholic dweeb (just a workaholic, I guess). The truth is that when I'm writing, I write every day, workaholic dweeb or not. That includes Christmas, the Fourth, and my birthday (at my age you try to ignore your goddam birthday anyway). And when I'm not working, I'm not working at all, although during those periods of full stop I usually feel at loose ends with myself and have trouble sleeping. For me, not working is the real work. — Stephen King

I don't want a Christmas you can buy. I don't want a Christmas you can make. What I want is a Christmas you can hold. A Christmas that holds me, remakes me, revives me. I want a Christmas that whispers, Jesus. — Ann Voskamp

You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren't allowed to be found, unless it's me doing the finding. And the only way you're allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn't belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion. — Tiffany Reisz

Do you need help with anything?" he asked with a wicked arched brow. "Maybe with cookies for Santa."
Scowling because no one was here but us, I said, "You're a bit late for that. Santa already came."
He hadn't moved, but I knew better than to think he would. Flynn was a pro at filling the bubble air space that was meant to be private and personal. "And were you a good girl?" he asked.
Awkwardly folding my arms over my chest, I said, "Not sure, I haven't checked. But you needn't look. We all know you are all bad."
Laughing, he said, "Yeah, well, there are other things worth unwrapping."
Grinding my teeth, I asked, "What, you didn't get your Ho, Ho, Ho, last night?"
Tossing back another full belly laugh, he said, "You know you're kind of funny when you want to be. — Shannon Dermott

I need a weapon," Valkyrie muttered.
"You're an Elemental with a Necromancer ring, trained in
a variety of martial arts by some of the best fighters in the world," Skulduggery pointed out. "I'm fairly certain that makes you a weapon."
"I mean a weapon you hold. You have a gun, Tanith has a sword ... I want a stick."
"I'll buy you a stick for Christmas. — Derek Landy

I think we felt the pressure more at first than this time around. But still you don't want to let anyone down. I never even met Patrick until we had a Christmas party at Ian McKellen's house on the first movie and then I didn't see him again until the premiere. — Rebecca Romijn

John [Travolta] and I have remained very close friends ever since we did Grease. When I was told that "You're the One That I Want" was named the #1 duet in history and, during a text chat with John letting him know he said "we should record a Christmas song." Of course I said yes. — Olivia Newton-John

This is the first time since I've been coaching that I gave them off on Christmas Day. Sometimes when you lose a game you want to get right back at it. But in reality I thank God we had an opportunity for our guys to be home with their families on Christmas. — Louis Orr

A great thank you to my family, friends and to those who supported me through this year of 2016. I also want to give a massive thanks to all those who are diligently spreading my work like a wild fire all over the globe. May God continue to bless you and give you more ability to spread your wings like never before.
I love and I wish you all a great Christmas and a prosperous New Year. — Euginia Herlihy

Because you are..." Her words faded. What was he? She still remembered his kiss and her gaze dropped to his lips. Their relationship had changed. He used to be a friend, someone who shared a past with her and her family. But now, he was more than that. Every time she saw him, her heart did a strange flutter. She shook herself. He was an opponent. She should view him as she did Blaise. But she couldn't. She didn't want to. She longed to confide in him. But it was so dangerous. "Brilliant?" he encouraged her to continue. "Wise beyond my years?" His smile was contagious. Jaclyn rolled her eyes and turned. "And here I was going to say a good kisser. — Laurel O'Donnell

I had let want in, opened the door ever so slightly. But want without the belief you can get what you want is pointless. You have to hope, so I let that in too. You have to. To want things and go for them and believe, even in impossible situations ... Hope was what you had when you had nothing else. Hope was the perfect shiny top on the Christmas tree, the glowing halo of every wish, the endless beacon of a lighthouse bringing tormented ships home at last. — Deb Caletti

I don't understand people who go to amusement parks. I spend most of my time trying NOT to be nauseous. 'Excuse me, could you strap me in upside down? I'd like to be as sick as humanly possible. I feel great today, I think I'll go down to Funland and snap my neck on the back of a ride. Honey, let's bring the kids, I want to give them a spinal cord injury for Christmas.' — Dom Irrera

My Christmas present? That's nice. But I'm not really in the mood to - "
"Open the goddamn thing or I'll kill you where you stand."
"Sir! Opening it." She ripped the paper, stuffed it hurriedly in her pocket, and pulled off the lid. "It's a key code."
"That's right. It's to the ground transpo that'll be at the airport over in that foreign country. Air transpo's been arranged, for two, on one of Roarke's private shuttles. Round trip. Merry fricking Christmas. Do what you want with it."
"I - you - one of the shuttles? Free?" Peabody's cheeks went pink as a summer rose. "And - and - and - a vehicle when we get there? It's so ... It's so seriously mag."
"Great. Can we go now?"
"Dallas!"
"No. No. No hugs. No hugs. No. Oh, shit," she muttered as Peabody threw her arms around her and squeezed. "We're on duty, we're in public. Let me go or I swear I'll kick your ass so hard that extra five pounds you're whining about will end up in Trenton. — J.D. Robb

I told the kids the house is going to be our Christmas. We didn't want them to think Christmas is just about gifts you're going to receive, but it's about Christ coming to Earth. — Jim Bob Duggar

Otter says nothing and as I turn to look at him, he's watching me, that gold-green shining with that regard that always leaves me breathless. I don't know what he's thinking right now. I don't think I want to know.
Are you sure? the voice in my head asks. Are you absolutely sure you don't want to know?] — T.J. Klune

You know, I started my career in politics in 1967. I'm not new to this. I did not just fall off the Christmas tree. I understand the world is complex. I know that there are people out there who want to hurt other people. — Dennis Kucinich

I think it's kind of difficult to write a good Christmas song because you have a narrow framework of references that you have to work within, and at the same time you want to do something that's personally original and hopefully somewhat unique. — John Oates

Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but ... well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with ... one thing and another." "Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?" "You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules - " "What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. ... Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?" The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move. "Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?" But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. — J.K. Rowling

Giving in to a shrill instinct, she ran around the side of the building. Butch was marching toward his car as if he were carrying an unstable load, and she rushed to catch up with them.
"Wait. I need to ask him a question." "You want to know his shoe size or something?" Butch snapped.
"Fourteen," Wrath drawled.
"I'll remember that at Christmas, asshole. — J.R. Ward

Are you going to talk about boys?" Sarah laughed. "What boys?" "Any boys." "No. We're talking about what we want for Christmas." "I want a dog," said Rose, hurrying to Abby's side. "A sister," said Sarah. "Poetry books," said Abby. "You just want poetry books because Zander likes poetry," said Rose. — Ann M. Martin

Hello, sir. Yes ... Uh-huh ... Yes ... You say that you want to bury your aunt with a Christmas tree in her coffin? Uh-huh ... She wanted it that way ... I'll see what I can do for you, sir. Oh, you have the measurements of the coffin with you? Very good ... We have our coffin-sized Christmas trees right over here, sir. — Richard Brautigan

You sure you don't want me to come over? We could make a snowman in the garden, or one in front of the hotel for the guests' arrival tomorrow. Or we could build snow forts and have a snowball fight. Surefire way to wear you out and make you sleepy. Then we could have cocoa with marshmallows on top. And I've been dying to have a piece of that seven-layer chocolate cake. I can't quit thinking about it. — Terry Spear

For sure, the last thing I was going to write to her was All I want for Christmas is you. — Rachel Cohn

Christmas is an invitation by God to say: Look what I've done to come near to you. Now draw near to me ... I want to be a friend. — Timothy Keller

States vote to take away my marriage rights, and even though I don't want to get married, it tends to hurt my feelings. I guess what bugs me is that it was put to a vote in the first place. If you don't want to marry a homosexual, then don't. But what gives you the right to weigh in on your neighbor's options? It's like voting whether or not redheads should be allowed to celebrate Christmas. — David Sedaris

If Christmas is for families, what do you do when there are families scattered all over the country? I am pretty sure God wants to make sure I touch all the bases, even if I spend his actual birthday with Delta Airlines. — Gail Collins

Sam pushed open the door without waiting for my answer. A wonderful wave of new-book smell came rushing out, reminding me immediately of Christmas. My parents always got me books for Christmas. With a melodic ding, the shop door swung shut behind us, and Sam released my hand. Where to? I'll buy you a book. I know you want one. — Maggie Stiefvater

Oh, I'll just improvise. I doubt you'll be much help. You couldn't have any real skills yet. Probably all you can do is stand there and shimmer, like some kind of freakin' Christmas ornament
meaning only a believer or two will see you."
"Only a believer?"
"You mean you still haven't figured out that?" She shook her head in disbelief.
But he had figured it out; he just didn't want to admit it, just didn't want it to be true. The old lady had been a believer. So was Philip. Both of them had seen him shimmering. But Ivy had not. Ivy had stopped believing. — Elizabeth Chandler

Lord Sheffield tucked a stray tendril behind her ear and cupped her cheek in one hand. "Do you see a kissing ball anywhere?" "N-no." She darted a quick glance about the room. It was decorated as a Venetian masquerade, not as a Christmastide celebration. There was no holly to be found. "Why do you ask?" "Because I don't want you to think I have any reason for doing this other than because I wish to. — Erica Ridley

I do love foreplay," he whispered against her lips. "Days and days worth of it. I want to look forward to you like a kid looks forward to Christmas. — Leslie Kelly

I really want a Christmas in New York one year, when it's snowing. Like, it's Christmas morning, and you have a fight with someone, and you run down the street, and it's snowing, and you can't find them. — Courtney Barnett

December 25, 10:35 p.m.
Dear America,
It's nearly bedtime, and I'm trying to relax, but I can't. All I can think about is you. I'm terrified you're going to get hurt. I know someone would tell me if you weren't all right, and that has led to its own kind of paranoia. If anyone comes up to me to deliver a message, my heart stops for a moment, fearing the worst: You are gone. You're not coming back.
I wish you were here. I wish I could just see you.
You are never getting these letters. It's too humiliating.
I want you home. I keep thinking of your smile and worrying that I'll never see it again.
I hope you come back to me, America.
Merry Christmas.
Maxon — Kiera Cass

Faster!" Shane yelled. Eve hit the gas hard, and whipped around a slower-moving van. The firing ceased, at least for now. "You see why I didn't want you to stop?"
"Okay, your father is officially off my Christmas list!" Eve yelled. "Oh my God, look at my car! — Rachel Caine

That's right, I am the unenthusiastic girl people avoid making eye contact with when they buy their spank mags and twelve-inch rubber cocks. I'm the one in full HAZMAT gear cleaning up the "accidental" shot spots they leave behind in one of our twenty-five cent porn booths. For what it's worth, there's a reason I don't fill in the glory holes, they all think they're so sneaky, getting their dick sucked by some anonymous stranger on the other side. I see it as less clean up, let the cock sucking stranger slurp up their spunk. It saves me running a disinfectant wipe along the wall, hoping that none of it touches any part of me. So keep up the good work anonymous strangers, keep gobbling cock and making my life easier. If you want, leave your address at the store and I'll add you to my fucking Christmas card list. — Jaden Wilkes

There are all kinds of ways and reasons that mothers can and should be praised. But for cultivating a sense of invisibility, martyrdom and tirelessly working unnoticed and unsung? Those are not reasons. Praising women for standing in the shadows? Wrong. Where is the greeting card that praises the kinds of mothers I know? Or better yet, the kind of mother I was raised by? I need a card that says: "Happy Mother's Day to the mom who taught me to be strong, to be powerful, to be independent, to be competitive, to be fiercely myself and fight for what I want." Or "Happy Birthday to a mother who taught me to argue when necessary, to raise my voice for my beliefs, to not back down when I know I am right." Or "Mom, thanks for teaching me to kick ass and take names at work. Get well soon." Or simply "Thank you, Mom, for teaching me how to make money and feel good about doing it. Merry Christmas. — Shonda Rhimes

Go home, talk about it together. Bake Christmas cookies and crap. Then tell me what you want to happen. Know that I'm yours. My loyalty, my soul is yours no matter what you decide. Crap, you can shoot me in the back, and I'll never want anything but to be around you hookers."
Blake stood and shook his head. "Nah, I don't need time. I appreciate the place in Hawaii, and it would be great to go to - maybe for a vacation sometime? But I'm here. I'm not leaving you. You're my family. — Debra Anastasia

I discovered that the real meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with you at all. It is about a very special gift. I want to you tell you about this gift. — Soraya Diase Coffelt

You could sell ashes to the devil, couldn't you?"
"Maybe," he said lightly. "But why would I want to? — Sierra Donovan

I still love you," he says, "but I have to go my own way." "So you want to break up?" I ask, trembling. "I guess so," he says. I fall to the floor, like a woman in the twelfth century fainting at the sight of a hanging in her town square. Later, my mother comes home from a party and finds me catatonic, lying across the bed, surrounded by pictures of him and me, the mittens he bought me at Christmas folded beneath my cheek. I am crippled by what feels like sadness but what I will later diagnose as embarrassment. She tells me this is a great excuse: to take time for myself, to cry a bunch, to eat only carbohydrates slathered in cheese. "You will find," she says, "that there's a certain grace to having your heart broken." I will use this line many times in the years to come, giving it as a gift to anyone who needs it. — Lena Dunham

Knowing what we know, how much more do we want to give Him something? But He seems to have everything. Well, not quite. He doesn't have you with Him again forever, not yet. I hope you are touched by the feelings of His heart enough to sense how much He wants to know you are coming home to Him. You can't give that gift to Him in one day, or one Christmas, but you could show Him today that you are on the way. You could pray. You could read a page of scripture. You could keep a commandment. If you have already done these, there is still something left to give. All around you are people He loves but can help only through you and me. One of the sure signs that we have accepted the gift of the Savior's atonement is that we give gifts to others. — Henry B. Eyring

Do you want to know something? I have three pairs of kid gloves. I've had kid mittens before from the Christmas tree, but never real kid gloves with five fingers. I take them out and try them on every little while. It's all I can do not to wear them to classes. — Jean Webster

Just before you went into the ICU, I started to feel this ache in my hip." "No," I said. Panic rolled in, pulled me under. He nodded. "So I went in for a PET scan." He stopped. He yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and clenched his teeth. Much of my life had been devoted to trying not to cry in front of people who loved me, so I knew what Augustus was doing. You clench your teeth. You look up. You tell yourself that if they see you cry, it will hurt them, and you will be nothing but A Sadness in their lives, and you must not become a mere sadness, so you will not cry, and you say all of this to yourself while looking up at the ceiling, and then you swallow even though your throat does not want to close and you look at the person who loves you and smile. He flashed his crooked smile, then said, "I lit up like a Christmas tree, Hazel Grace. The lining of my chest, my left hip, my liver, everywhere. — John Green

Aesthetic and utilitarian considerations aside," I said, "Those mittens don't particularly make sense. Why would you want to hitchhike to the North Pole? Isn't the whole gimmick of Christmas that there's home delivery? You get up there, all you're going to find is a bunch of exhausted, grumpy elves. Assuming, of course, that you accept the mythical presence of a workshop up there, when we all know there isn't even a pole at the North Pole, and if global warming continues, there won't be any ice, either."
"Why don't you just fuck off?" the woman replied. Then she took her mittens and got out of there. — Rachel Cohn

I don't let anyone touch me," I finally said.
Why not?"
Why not? Because I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, their smell of beer or fifteen-year-old whiskey. Men who didn't come to the emergency room with you, men who left on Christmas Eve. Men who slammed the security gates, who made you love them then changed their minds. Forests of boys, their ragged shrubs full of eyes following you, grabbing your breasts, waving their money, eyes already knocking you down, taking what they felt was theirs. ( ... ) It was a play and I knew how it ended, I didn't want to audition for any of the roles. It was no game, no casual thrill. It was three-bullet Russian roulette. — Janet Fitch

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

[Richard] remembered asking Tommy once why he didn't want to transition into a woman.
"And lose my cock, balls and prostate? Are you kidding me? Honey, I'm still all man. I'm just a man with decoration."
Tommy Wilkins, A Very Tate Christmas (Tate Pack #3) — Vicktor Alexander

To get where you want to go, the first question you always have to answer is Where am I? ... We only find out where we are when we find out where He is. We only find ourselves ... when we find Him. — Ann Voskamp

Look, Mrs. McGillicuddy, it's not my fault your son jumped out a dorm room window on Christmas eve. I've written over fifty books as a Columbia professor, all right? You don't do that by holding hands with every at-risk undergraduate who says he's homesick, or he's turning gay, or the dog ate his term paper. I write about Lincoln, and freedom, and great ideas. I don't always have time for students. It's like Dean Martin used to say: if you want to talk, go to a priest.
Hey
what's the gun for? — Eric Foner

My dad got me my first bow for Christmas, when I was ten. But he took it away before New Year's." "Did you shoot someone?" "He caught me soaking arrows in lighter fluid. I just really, really wanted to shoot a flaming arrow at something. It didn't matter what. Still do. I feel like that would complete me: to see a burning arrow go thwock into something and set it afire. I suppose it's how men feel when they imagine sinking balls-deep into the perfect piece of ass. I just want one sexy little thwock." John — Joe Hill

Come to me. I want to plow you like a Calgary driveway at Christmas. — John Cleese

I'm in awe of you, Rowan Palotay," he said softly. "And plan to make love to you for the rest of the night, but right now, I want you to be a good cowgirl and ride me."
His finger hooked around the string of her panties, and he tugged them down and off. "The boots stay on. — Robin Bielman

I eat everything I want on Christmas day. I really don't watch what I eat. It's not like you have Christmas every day! — Adriana Lima

I just think that it's strong and it's important that we recognize what the Christmas season is about; it's about the birth of our Savior, and there's a lot of pressure today to be politically correct, but people are realizing, too, that you have to be open to express your faith what you want believe. — Joel Osteen

I hate Christmas. Everything is designed for families, romance, warmth, emotion and presents, and if you have no boyfriend, no money, your mother is going out with a missing Portuguese criminal and your friends don't want to be your friend anymore, it makes you want to emigrate to a vicious Muslim regime, where at least all the
women are treated like social outcasts. Anyway, I don't care. I am going to quietly read a book all
weekend and listen to classical music. — Helen Fielding

There's a very secret plan. And it's a plan that nobody's going to tell you, 'Well, we want to diminish Christian philosophy in the U.S.A. because we want X, Y, and Z.' They'll never ever say that. But I'm kind of surprised they went after Christmas because it's such an emotional issue. — Bill O'Reilly

My boss at Christmas was a lot of fun: "I want you to look in your pay envelopes and you'll know that I keep the Christmas spirit around here. Because in each and every envelope you'll find ... snow." — David Ketchum

Hannah leaned her face against his chest, and he felt the curve of her smile. "What is it?" he asked.
"Our first night together. And our first morning will be Christmas." Rafe patted her naked hip. "And I've already unwrapped my present."
"You're rather easy to shop for," she said, making him laugh.
"Always. Because Hannah, my love, the only gift I'll ever want" - he paused to kiss her smiling lips - "is you. — Lisa Kleypas

No psychic powers; I just happen to know how several of the big toy companies jack up their January and February sales. They start prior to Christmas with attractive TV ads for certain special toys. The kids, naturally, want what they see and extract Christmas promises for these items from their parents. Now here's where the genius of the companies' plan comes in: They undersupply the stores with the toys they've gotten the parents to promise. Most parents find those things sold out and are forced to substitute other toys of equal value. The toy manufacturers, of course, make a point of supplying the stores with plenty of these substitutes. Then, after Christmas, the companies start running the ads again for the other, special toys. That juices up the kids to want those toys more than ever. They go running to their parents whining, 'You promised, you promised,' and the adults go trudging off to the store to live up dutifully to their words. — Robert B. Cialdini

The perfect life, the perfect lie, I realised after Christmas, is one which prevents you from doing that which you would ideally have done (painted, say, or written unpublishable poetry) but which, in fact, you have no wish to do. People need to feel that they have been thwarted by circumstances from pursuing the life which, had they led it, they would not have wanted; whereas the life they really want is precisely a compound of all those thwarting circumstances. — Geoff Dyer

She closed her eyes, soaking in the feel of his hand, then opened them and stared at his perfect face as longing wrapped itself around her heart. "If this is a mistake, it's one I'll gladly keep making."
"I don't think it's a mistake, I just want to do things the right way."
"Not everything's always black and white. And you don't always have to put what you want on hold for everyone else. — Cindi Madsen

Tell me, angel. What do you want for Christmas that only I can give you?" She sighs, the sound going straight to my dick. I want her here, naked and wrapped all around me. "Are you sure you want to hear this?" Now my curiosity is piqued. "Definitely." "I want - love. Real, ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love, — Monica Murphy

Belief. That's what I want for Christmas. Look it up. Maybe there's more meaning there than I understand. Maybe you could explain it to me? — David Levithan

The family tree of Christ startlingly notes not one woman but four. Four broken women - women who felt like outsiders, like has-beens, like never-beens. Women who were weary of being taken advantage of, of being unnoticed and uncherished and unappreciated; women who didn't fit in, who didn't know how to keep going, what to believe, where to go - women who had thought about giving up. And Jesus claims exactly these who are wandering and wondering and wounded and worn out as His. He grafts you into His line and His story and His heart, and He gives you His name, His lineage, His righteousness. He graces you with plain grace. Is there a greater Gift you could want or need or have? Christ comes right to your Christmas tree and looks at your family tree and says, I am your God, and I am one of you, and I'll be the Gift, and I'll take you. Take Me? — Ann Voskamp