I'm A Sweet Girl Quotes & Sayings

Tears flood in you
your eyes burning
your heart scars with my name scratched deep
My face is gone
my heart betrayed by your lullabies
I'm a shadow of a girl inside
Hands are touching you
nothing takes the place of you
Heart wrench, weeps goodbye
Lullabies, beautiful and trusting
Barely breathing as they break into dust
Lonely corners me
Sweeps me off my feet
Shows me it was better for me
Fingertips holding close
your grip not as soft
Follows me to an empty bed
I can't stop the weakening of my soul
my body is dying
your tune is holding my mind
Let me go
see what I do
No control
No you
You whisper your sweet goodbye
If it is small it won't interrupt my sleep
But my heart you keep
You say it's for me
But who would be happy?
Alone left out in the cold — Mercy Cortez

Malia was a chocolate girl. Sexy, succulent chocolate that I could already imagine soothing my sweet tooth with. Charlotte wore her hair cut in a short pixie style, — Alexandra Warren

Westcliff thinks that St. Vincent is in love with you."
Evie choked a little and didn't dare look up from her tea. "Wh-why does he think that?"
"He's known St. Vincent from childhood, and can read him fairly well. And Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent's heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to ... hmm, how did he put it? ... I can't remember the exact words, but it was something like ... you would appeal to St. Vincent's deepest, most secret fantasy."
Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. "I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible."
A grin crossed Lillian's lips. "Dear, that is not St. Vincent's fantasy, it's his reality. And you're probably the first sweet, decent girl he's ever had anything to do with. — Lisa Kleypas

And Mom? You're a good girl."
"Thank you. That's very sweet of you, Chuck"
Though what I was really thinking was: This is too fucking weird. — Merrill Markoe

I think I can deceive people. I'm like, the nice, sweet girl when you meet me. And I don't have any bad intentions. But I'm a bad girl too. — Alicia Silverstone

Is all pink entirely banned?'
'Not if it's like a sassy pink,' I say. 'But if it's a sweet, girl pink, yes. Maybe some shade of sarcastic pink if it isn't too abrasive. — Laura Nowlin

I don't want to come off like a girl scout and 'Isn't she sweet?' but the honest-to-God truth is I had seven years of a great show. It put me on the map. Yes, I'm associated with Joyce, but this is not chopped liver. — Veronica Hamel

Shut up, lumpen-head," Billy had said, setting the stage for our future amicable relationship.
I remembered that very well too. That had been a first too. Nobody had called me a lumpen-head before that. Tavi had had to explain what it meant, and then I had punched Billy in the stomach. People had to help Pradyun separate us and one of the ladies had exclaimed, "But she looked like such a sweet, little girl too!"
"She's not a girl," Billy had said. "She's an ugly lumpen-head, and her parents found her under a toadstool."
Billy had been a sweet, little boy himself. Still was. Hadn't changed a bit over the years. — Sonal Panse

My dear fellow, the truth isn't quite the sort of thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined girl. What extraordinary ideas you have about the way to behave to a woman! — Oscar Wilde

Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent's heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to ... hmm, how did he put it? ... I can't remember the exact words, but it was something like ... you would appeal to St. Vincent's deepest, most secret fantasy."
Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. "I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible."
A grin crossed Lillian's lips. "Dear, that is not St. Vincent's fantasy, it's his reality. And you're probably the first sweet, decent girl he's ever had anything to do with."
"He spent quite a lot of time with you and Daisy in Hampshire," Evie countered.
That seemed to amuse Lillian further. "I'm not at all sweet, dear. And neither is my sister. Don't say you have been laboring under that misconception all this time? — Lisa Kleypas

You don't smell like roses any more," he said, then wanted to kick himself. He shouldn't be noticing her scent. "I probably smell like boat." No, she smelled sweet, perfect like ... "Toffee?" Her eyes slid away guiltily. "Kaz said to pack what we needed for the journey. A girl has to eat." She reached into her pocket and drew out a bag of toffees. "Want one? — Leigh Bardugo

A Lemon Gingertini," the dark-haired girl says. She curls her hands neatly under her chin and watches me mix the ginger syrup. "Oh, could you go light on the ice, too?"
"Sure thing," I say. Damn. I can't place her face.

"And make sure to add a slice of 'I'll kick your ass myself if you ever f*** over my best friend again'?" Her sweet voice changes to venom-laced. — Lori K. Garrett

It seems to be the fashion nowadays for a girl to behave as much like a man as possible. Well, I won't! I'll make the best of being a girl and be as nice a specimen as I can: sweet and modest, a dear, dainty thing with clothes smelling all sweet and violety, a soft voice, and pretty, womanly ways. Since I'm a girl, I prefer to be a real one! — Mrs. George De Horne Vaizey

Believe me, if Archimedes ever had the grand entrance of a girl as pretty as Gloria to look forward to, he would never have spent so much time calculating the value of Pi. He would have been baking her a Pie! If Euclid had ever beheld a vision of loveliness like the one I see walking into my anti-math class, he would have forgotten all the geometry of lines and planes, and concentrated on the sweet simplicity of soft curves. If Pythagoras had ever had a girl look at him the way Gloria's eyes fix in my direction, he would have given up his calculations on the hypotenuse of right triangles and run for the hills to pick a bouquet of wildflowers. — David Klass

Remembering your mistakes more acutely than any minor success. This was the worst. The things that kept you up at night. Tip a waiter that was too small. The words that didn't fit the moment. Words that didn't come till to late. You could kill yourself in increments, punishing your spirit day after day-regret. Guilt. Not the guilt of the little girl who woke in the night embarrassed God was mad at her because she had ticked balls under her shirt, pretending to have breasts. "I even felt sexy." That was sweet, and pure, no crime at all. But the crime of obsessive replay-get rid of it, get rid of it. Who could ever have known that hardest punishments would be the ones you gave yourself? — Naomi Shihab Nye

Hmmm," he said, "Lauren Elizabeth Danner.Elizabeth is a beautiful name and so is Lauren. They suit you."
Unable to endure the sweet torment of having him flirt with her, Lauren said repressively, "I was named after two maiden aunts.One of them had a squint and the other had warts."
Nick ignored that and continued aloud. "Color of eyes,blue." He regarded her over the top of the file, his gray eyes intimate and teasing. "They are definitely blue.A man could lose himself in those eyes of yours-they're gorgeous."
"My right eye used to wobble unless I wore my glasses," Lauren informed him blithely. "They had to operate on it."
"A little girl with wobbly blue eyes and glasses on her nose," he reflected with a slow grin. "I'll bet you were cute."
"I looked studious,not cute. — Judith McNaught

Connor pockets his cell. "Lily," he says. "If I wanted to date for a last name, I'd have a girl on my arm every single day. I would never be single." He leans forward. "I promise you, that my intentions are pure. And I think it's sweet you're looking out for Rose, but she's more than capable of taking care of herself, which is one of the many reasons why I want to pursue her." "What's another reason?" I test him. He smiles. "I won't have to taxingly explain to her menu items in a real French restaurant." He knows she's fluent? "I won't have to explain financial statements or dividends. I'll be able to discuss anything and everything in the world, and she'll have an answer. — Krista Ritchie

You sure are a sweet girl, Scout. I'm half tempted to keep you."
"Ummm ... Thanks?" Knowing she was a potential Alpha I worried about what "keeping me" might entail. Probably chains. And whips. And maybe a dog collar.
And now I was going to have to live with scary Fifty Shades Aunt Rachel pictures living in my head for all time. — Tammy Blackwell

I don't have a sweet tooth, normally; I'm a salty-savory girl. But when I'm pregnant, almost as a ritual, at 4 o'clock, I'll have cookies-and-cream ice cream! — Ivanka Trump

I thought it was a really good contrast to have a really sweet, sincere, church girl sitting next to the church lady who seemed kind of, you know, over the top. — Victoria Jackson

What?"
"That's sweet."
I am sweet. My heart flip-flops and I bite my lip a little bit. Sweet as in a lollipop, or sweet as in a girl you wold like to kiss passionately in the stacks? That's the question. — Carrie Jones

You're a bit elderly, Abigail, I'll give you that, but I don't think you've ever been dotty in your life, and I'm certainly not finding you dear at the moment - more like diabolical."
Lucetta's lips curved ever so slightly. "I'll wear that frock just to appease you, but don't think I'm going to be happy about it." She turned and stomped out of the room.
"Don't forget the tiara I left beside the dress," Abigail called. "Or the sparkly shoes that are right on the floor, dear."
"I'm not wearing a tiara," Lucetta yelled back. Abigail grinned.
"She's such a dear, sweet girl. Possessed of such a quiet and delicate nature. — Jen Turano

I had to get a driver's license and drive to St. Louis to find the punk-rock scene that was happening there. And there was a punk-rock scene. It was sweet. It was real. It was like everywhere else in the county. It was a handful of people who were feeling the same pull, and, of course, it was like the Island of Misfit Toys in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer [1964]. Just the freaks, the fags, the fat girls, the unbelievable eccentrics . — Michael Stipe

I'm a nice middle-class girl in real life, and I'm a mom and a grandma, and I usually play sweet characters. — Jacki Weaver

When a man is happy enough to win the affections of a sweet girl, who can soothe his cares with crochet, and respond to all his most cherished ideas with beaded urn-rugs and chair-covers in German wool, he has, at least, a guarantee of domestic comfort, whatever trials may await him out of doors. What a resource it is under fatigue and irritation to have your drawing-room well supplied with small mats, which would always be ready if you ever wanted to set anything on them ! And what styptic for a bleeding heart can equal copious squares of crochet, which are useful for slipping down the moment you touch them ? How our fathers managed without crochet is the wonder; but I believe some small and feeble substitute existed in their time under the name of 'tatting'. — George Eliot

Ulysses, darling," she whispered, "you don't mind that I'm a round-heeled tart."

"Nonsense. You're my cherry tart. Ripe and oh-so sweet, you naughty girl."

-Angelia Sparrow, Cherry Tart — Naomi Brooks

With yourself, I think you have to decide the kind of person that you really want to be, and for me, it's just a sweet girl. — Miley Cyrus

I don't know. She was a sweet girl. As sweet as they come. I don't know why I didn't love her. It's something you can't really control. — Emily Giffin

I hope they don't hang you, precious, by that sweet neck. Yes, angel, I'm gonna send you over. The chances are you'll get off with life. That means if you're a good girl, you'll be out in 20 years. I'll be waiting for you. If they hang you, I'll always remember you. (Sam Spade to Brigid O'Shaughnessy) — Dashiell Hammett

My cheek stung and throbbed. I remained on the floor of the cave. Belen stood between me and Kerrick.
" ... temper in check. She's a sweet girl," Belen said.
"She's a healer, Belen. And no longer a girl. Healing Ryne is all I care about. All you should care about, as well. You know-"
"Yes, I know what's at stake." Belen spat the words. "But if you raise your hand to her again, I'll rip your arm from its socket. — Maria V. Snyder

Can I be honest with you?" he asked.
"Aren't you always? And brutally so?"
"I never realized you were a woman."
She choked on a laugh of surprise. "Excuse me?"
"Inside my head ... " he pointed, just in case she didn't know what a head looked like. "Inside my memories? You were always a little girl, like Izzy. Just a girl, skipping around, getting into trouble, and mouthing off. I never noticed you'd turned into a woman."
Though the comprehension of the way he viewed her stung like the burn on her hand, she gave his broad chest beneath that worn-out gray Marines T-shirt an understanding pat with her unburned hand. "I know. It happens to the best of us female types."
His big hand came up and captured hers against his chest.
"Annie?"
"yeah?"
His gaze slowly traveled over her face, down to her lips, then back to her eyes. "I'm noticing now. — Candis Terry

What age is she now, twenty something. I'm not sure. She is very bright, quite the bluestocking. Not beautiful, however, I admitted that to myself long ago. I cannot pretend this is not a disappointment, for I had hoped that she would be another Anna. She is too tall and stark, her rusty hair is coarse and untameable and stand out around her freckled face in an unbecoming manner, and when she smiles she shows her upper gums, glistening and whitely pink. With those spindly legs and big bum, that hair, the long neck especially ... Yet she is brave and makes the best of herself and of the world. She has the rueful, grimly humorous, clomping way to her that is common to so many ungainly girls. ... Dear Claire, my sweet girl. — John Banville

Brooke stared in surprise. "You brought me lunch?"
"I was in the neighborhood."
She checked out the label on the bag. "DMK is twenty minutes from here."
"I was in that neighborhood, and now I'm here," he said in exasperation. "Seriously, woman, you are impossible to feed." He strode over and set the bag on her desk. "One cheeseburger with spicy chipotle ketchup and a side of sweet potato fries - chosen specifically for a certain spicy and sweet girl I know - and a green dill pickle for your eyes. So there." He crossed his arms over his chest.
Brooke studied him. "You seem very ornery right now."
"As a matter of fact, I am."
"Why?"
"I don't know," he huffed. "Just ... eat your Brooke Burger. Stop asking so many questions. Sometimes a guy just wants to buy a girl lunch. Any objections to that? Good. Enjoy your Sunday, Ms. Parker."
He strode out of her office, gone as quickly as he'd appeared.
Brooke stared at the doorway and blinked. — Julie James

Martin is your best friend, isn't he?' a sweet and well-intentioned girl once said when both of us were present: it was the only time I ever felt awkward about this precious idea, which seemed somehow to risk diminishment if it were uttered aloud. — Christopher Hitchens

People have this notion of me being this sweet, nice girl, but I'm kind of a pervert. — Michelle Branch

I was six years old when my mother died. For a long time afterward, the sweet and earthy magnolia scent of her would permeate my dreams. No matter what I was dreaming about, good or frightening, my mother's smell would waft through my nighttime adventures, infusing them with her unseen presence, reassuring me even through their darkest moments. I never told anyone about this. I felt that, somehow, my mother had found a way to communicate with me from heaven even though I knew from the down-to-earth practicality of my Baptist Sunday School lessons that it was likely impossible. Still, I have heard it said more than once that with God, nothing is impossible. Is it so hard to imagine that He, in His infinite compassion, might have, for a moment in time, comforted a scared little girl with her mother's familiar scent? — Earlene Fowler

I'm crying for the little girl whose mother divorced her father, the girl who wanted to fall in love for the first time but wasn't ready for sex, the girl who dated a boy just because he wasn't the first one, the girl who fell hard for the guy with the easy smile and the green eyes, the girl who needed to prove she could hook up on a class trip, the girl who rand for student council just to impress a guy, the girl who lost her best friend, the girl whose father doesn't care anymore, the girl who doesn't have the money for college, the girl who just wants her grandma to fix everything, the girl who doesn't talk to anyone about anything, the girl who just can't fall in love again - even if a sweet guy folds a thousand paper cranes. Just for her. — Sydney Salter

Good Morning - Midnight
I'm coming Home
Day - got tired of Me
How could I - of Him?
Sunshine was a sweet place
I liked to stay
But Morn - didn't want me - now
So - Goodnight - Day!
I can look - can't I
When the East is Red?
The Hills - have a way - then
That puts the Heart - abroad
You - are not so fair - Midnight
I chose - Day
But - please take a little Girl
He turned away! — Emily Dickinson

Want a sugar cube? [ ... ] They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I ... well, if we see something sweet we better grab it quick. [ ... ] You're absolutely terrifying me in that get-up. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses? — Suzanne Collins

I see the glow before I see her. The orange light is so strong it's hard to believe the house isn't on fire, but when feet appear at the top of the staircase, I can finally see that the light isn't coming from the house. It's coming from her.
My heart beats so fast I can't tell the pulses apart - it's one harsh thrum inside my head. If I'm a Smurf, this girl is an Oompa Loompa. No. Not even. It looks like she walked out of a horror movie. She really is on fire, burning from the inside out.
I'm staring, but I can't help it. Everyone would be staring if they could see what I see. — Erica Cameron

At another house two women learned very fast; I say women, but one was a girl about twelve or thirteen, already married, however. There was a little child about three years old. My sister asked, 'Who is the True God's Son?' The little thing replied, in a very sweet voice, 'Jesus.' — Lottie Moon

Love you! Girl, you're in the very core of my heart. I hold you there like a jewel. Didn't I promise you I'd never tell you a lie? Love you! I love you with all there is of me to love. Heart, soul, brain. Every fibre of body and spirit thrilling to the sweetness of you. There's nobody in the world for me but you, Valancy. — L.M. Montgomery

The aggressive side of me comes across in my music, but I'm just a sweet girl. — Pink

For some nights I slept profoundly; but still every morning I felt the same lassitude, and a languor weighed upon me all day. I felt myself a changed girl. A strange melancholy was stealing over me, a melancholy that I would not have interrupted. Dim thoughts of death began to open, and an idea that I was slowly sinking took gentle, and, somehow, not unwelcome possession of me. If it was sad, the tone of mind which this induced was also sweet. Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it. — J. Sheridan Le Fanu

Every guy is different, but just prepare to know him in a different way and be OK with it, because the times I've lived with girls, and I've lived with some very sweet girls, I felt bad that they had to live with me. — Chris D'Elia

The sweet roll smelled divine, and I thanked him, prancing my way back to Mal and feeling quite pleased with myself. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down a muddy walkway between two houses. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Nobody saw me. He just thought I was another peasant girl."
"We can't take risks like that."
"So you don't want a bite?"
He hesitated. "I didn't say that."
"I was going to give you a bite, but since you don't want one, I'll just have to eat the whole thing myself."
Mal grabbed for the roll, but I danced out of reach, dodging left and right, away from his hands. I could see his surprise, and I loved it. I wasn't the same clumsy girl he remembered.
"You are a brat," he growled and took another swipe.
"Ah, but I'm a brat with a sweet roll. — Leigh Bardugo

When you're a girl, you have to be everything, You have to be dope at what you do, but you have to be super sweet, and you have to be sexy, and you have to be this and you have to be that and you have to be nice, and you have to - it's like, I can't be all of those things at once. I'm a human being. — Nicki Minaj

If you're able to stand in the morning, my sweet girl, I'll consider it a personal failing. — M.Q. Barber

I was beautiful; after all, my skin was as rich and dark as wet, brown mud, a complexion that any and every pale white girl would pray for - that is, if she believed in God. My butt sat high in the air and my hips obviously gave birth to Creation. Titties like mangoes, firm, sweet, and ready. My thighs and legs were big and powerful, kicking Vanna White and Cindy Crawford to the curb. — Sister Souljah

No, listen. I've got it now. You meet a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her she's beautiful, she'll think you're sweet, but she won't believe you. She knows that beauty lies in your beholding." Bast gave a grudging shrug. "And sometimes that's enough."
His eyes brightened. "But there's a better way. You show her she is beautiful. You make mirrors of your eyes, prayers of your hands against her body. It is hard, very hard, but when she truly believes you ... " Bast gestured excitedly. "Suddenly the story she tells herself in her own head changes. She transforms. She isn't seen as beautiful. She is beautiful, seen. — Patrick Rothfuss

You'll have sweet dreams?" he asked quietly and sounding like he cared, a lot.
God but I loved this man.
I felt my mouth smile and I pressed even closer.
"I'm a good girl, I always do what I'm told."
His hand left my hair so both his arms could wrap tight around me.
"Love you, Ace," he murmured and my stomach melted.
He said it. Right out.
He said it.
"Love you too, Captain. — Kristen Ashley

I feel really proud of my work on 'Sullivan & Son.' It's a really different character for me. I was excited to play this really tough, sweet smart, quirky girl because that's who I am at my core, but that's never who I was playing. The show is like my pride and joy. — Valerie Azlynn

No question. I admit, you're not what I expected, but you're exactly what I want."
"What did you expect?"
"A sweet, reserved girl who wouldn't provoke my brother into stabbing her a hundred times."
"A wilting violet? Oh, come on, Key. You'd run all over her and forget about her in a week."
"I see that now." He grinned at her. "I keep trying to run all over you, but you're just so . . . stabby. — Trinity Faegen

I'm rewarded with another sweet smirk, and the knowledge that I like this kind of back and forth when no one is paying for me, when I'm not pretending to like someone, when there's no exchange of power or money or goods. When we are just a guy and a girl spending an hour together on a Wednesday night in the Village in Manhattan, — Lauren Blakely

I wonder what Lena is doing now. I always wonder what Lena is doing. Rachel, too: both my girls, my beautiful, big-eyed girls. But I worry about Rachel less. Rachel was always harder than Lena, somehow. More defiant, more stubborn, less feeling . Even as a girl, she frightened me - fierce and fiery-eyed, with a temper like my father's once was.
But Lena . . . little darling Lena, with her tangle of dark hair and her flushed, chubby cheeks. She used to rescue spiders from the pavement to keep them from getting squashed; quiet, thoughtful Lena, with the sweetest lisp to break your heart. To break my heart: my wild, uncured, erratic, incomprehensible heart. I wonder whether her front teeth still overlap; whether she still confuses the words pretzel and pencil occasionally; whether the wispy brown hair grew straight and long, or began to curl.
I wonder whether she believes the lies they told her. — Lauren Oliver

She would make a man of me. She puts strength and courage into me as no one else can. She is unlike any girl I ever saw; there's no sentimentality about her; she is wise, and kind, and sweet. She says what she means, looks you straight in the eye, and is as true as steel. — Louisa May Alcott

The mental agony I have suffered, during the last two days, wrings from me the avowal to you of a passion which, as you well know, is not one of yesterday, nor one I have lightly formed. On Rose, sweet, gentle girl! my heart is set, as firmly as ever heart of man was set on woman. I have no thought, no view, no hope in life, beyond her; and if you oppose me in this great stake, you take my peace and happiness in your hands, and cast them to the wind. Mother, think better of this, and of me, and do not disregard the happiness of which you seem to think so little. — Charles Dickens

I stalked over to Echo, feeling like a tiger after its prey. She backed up against the wall, but i kept up my approach. I pressed against her, feeling each sensual curve. I wanted to touch every inch of her body. Her sweet smell intoxicated me.
Her eyes kept their laughter, but her smile faded as she bit her lower lip. Damn, did she have any idea what she was doing? For a girl hell-bent on keeping me away, she sure did everything to turn me on. — Katie McGarry

I know for me like I have a reputation of being kind of tough, I have a reputation of also being the girl next door, kind of sweet but I have standards and my thing is, it's me on that screen and I don't have control over everything in this and I'm grateful and thankful. — Nia Long

Time went by and there wasn't even sadness.
"You know how another patient put it? She said this feeling inside her was . . . it was anti-feeling. Like a black hole in space, and everything - happiness, anger, hope, meaning - it would all get sucked in, tipped over the event horizon, and she couldn't feel any of it. That's the way it was for me. I walked around like everyone else, and had this wonderful opportunity at the museum, and came home to this brilliant guy who loved me and was nothing but sweet. Your father tried so hard. But I felt . . . empty. If I could've filled that space up with anything, I would've. If somebody had turned to me and said, 'It's easy, just pour some dry cement in there and you'll be a normal human girl,' I would've done it like that." She snaps her fingers. "But I couldn't. And your father couldn't do it for me. — Rebecca Podos

I will read you their names directly; here they are in my pocket-book. Castle of Wolfenbach, Clermont, Mysterious Warnings, Necromancer of the Black Forest, Midnight Bell, Orphan of the Rhine, and Horrid Mysteries. Those will last us some time. '
' ... but are they all horrid? Are you sure they are all horrid?'
'Yes, quite sure; for a particular friend of mine, a Miss Andrews, a sweet girl, one of the sweetest creatures in the world, has read every one of them. — Jane Austen

The thing about me loving Harry is I'm twelve and he's maybe thirty or thirty-five, whatever, so he'll have to wait like six years for me to grow up. I mean if he kills Hiskott and sets us free, he'll have to wait. He'll never do that. As kind and sweet and brave as he is, he probably has a girl already a hundred others chasing after him. So what I'll have to do is always love him from afar. Unrequited love. That's what they generally call it. I'll love him forever in a deeply, deeply sad kind of way, which maybe you think sounds pretty depressing, but it isn't. Being obsessed about a deeply sad unrequited love can take your mind off the worse things, of which there are thousands, and sometimes it's better to dwell endlessly on what you can't have than on what might happen to you at any moment in Harmony corner. — Dean Koontz

Amazing? My heart fluttered. "But I don't want Flash or Harry," I murmured. "You want Spider-Man," he finished for me, looking a little wistful. I shrugged. "And Peter Parker." He looked at me, very seriously. "Then don't settle," he said. — J.M. Richards

Oh, I know, I know, she was a sweet girl, a simple country girl; everyone told me that, both then and since. But I could not forgive her animal dumbness - worse, her rank sensuality, easy as any cow's, and like her dumpling breasts, quite irresistable to men - while those of us whom God has made to think and feel, who are strung out like harps along the wires of our own nature, why, we are rarer than music and must content ourselves with smaller audiences. — Rosalind Miles

But we should not cling! A plague upon fundamentalists and literalists! I am reminded of a story of Lord Krishna when he was a cowherd. Every night he invites the milkmaids to dance with him in the forest. They come and they dance. The night is dark, the fire in their midst roars and crackles, the beat of the music gets ever faster - the girls dance and dance and dance with their sweet lord, who has made himself so abundant as to be in the arms of each and every girl. But the moment the girls become possessive, the moment each one imagines that Krishna is her partner alone, he vanishes. So it is that we should not be jealous with God. — Yann Martel

The other day at a drive-through, I reminded the teenage girl serving me that she forgot my drinks. She looked at me, hissed, rolled her eyes, and then took her sweet time getting me the sodas. — Neil Cavuto

Young friends, whose string-and-tin-can phone extended from island to island, had to pay out more and more string, as if letting kites go higher and higher. They had more and more to tell each other, and less and less string. The boy asked the girl to say "I love you" into her can, giving her no further explanation. And she didn't ask for any, or say "That's silly," or "We're too young for love," or even suggest that she was saying "I love you" because he asked her to. Instead she said, "I love you." The words traveled through the long, long string. The boy covered his can with a lid, removed it from the string, and put her love for him on a shelf in his closet. Of course, he never could open the can, because then he would lose its contents. It was enough just to know it was there. — Jonathan Safran Foer

It's sweet and everything, but it's like you're not even there sometimes. It's great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn't need a shoulder? What if they need the arms or something like that? You can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things."
"Like what?" I asked. My mouth was dry.
"I don't know. Like take their hands when the slow song comes up for a change. Or be the one who asks someone for a date. Or tell people what you need. Or what you want. — Stephen Chbosky

I suppose this is what I meant when I wrote what I did, sweet pea, about how it is we cannot possibly know what will manifest in our lives. We live and have experiences and leave people we love and get left by them. People we thought would be with us forever aren't and people we didn't know would come into our lives do. Our work here is to keep faith with that, to put it in a box and wait. To trust that someday we will know what it means, so that when the ordinary miraculous is revealed to us we will be there, standing before the baby girl in the pretty dress, grateful for the smallest things. — Cheryl Strayed

My new movie, Fools Rush In, is a romantic comedy and the girl I play in that is very warm, very sweet. — Salma Hayek

When I see a rosebush smiling at me, I see a sweet little girl telling me, "I love you daddy". — Debasish Mridha

Jeb smiles - a genuine Jebediah Holt grin, complete with dimples. Such a beautiful distraction. "I love you, skater girl."
The nickname winds through me, comforting and sweet. I smooth my palm across his shoulder. "Say it again."
"I love you."
"No ... the other part," I plead.
He pulls my body to his, so our mouths come together in a warm, soft kiss. "Skater girl," he whispers against me, brushing hair from my face. — A.G. Howard

I have a girl crush on Rachel Bilson. She's so cute, I just want to put her in my pocket. I love her style, and I'm fascinated by everything she wears, and I think she's a really sweet and kind person. She's cute. I like her. — Alexandra Chando

He looked sad. 'It's hard to believe of her. She always seemed such a sweet girl.'

Sorrow rolled her eyes. 'Your problem, Tomas, is that your natural paranoia is in constant tension with an almost pathological desire to believe the best of people. Sweet tells you nothing. Fuck it, I could be sweet if the occasion demanded.'

They looked at each other. Caraway's lips twitched. Sorrow glared at him for a moment before conceding. 'Maybe not. But you take my point. — A.F.E. Smith

I like a girl who doesn't play any games. I like a very sweet girl. — Mark Salling

I'm just a girl from Flatbush, Bo. There's nothing special here.""You're so wrong.""I know what people think. To friends and family I'm sweet and helpless. To guys I'm a body.""Your body is spectacular. I'm not going to pretend I don't see that. But I can have any body. You've lit something inside me. And it's you, not your assets.""You don't know me. We've hardly scratched the surface.""That's why I need time. I want to know your story, your dreams, your longings. Every part I see makes me want more." He was speaking her own desire to understand him, because his real self called to her more strongly than anyone she'd known , even people she'd known for years. — Kristen Heitzmann

Death comes to me again, a girl
in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling.
It's not so terrible she tells me,
not like you think, all darkness
and silence. There are windchimes
and the smell of lemons, some days
it rains, but more often the air is dry
and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase
built from hair and bone and listen
to the voices of the living. I like it,
she says, shaking the dust from her hair,
especially when they fight, and when they sing. — Dorianne Laux

I'm in love with a girl who knows me better.
Fell for the woman just when I met her.
Took my sweet time when I was bitter.
Someone understands,
She knows how treat a fella right.
Give me that feeling every night,
She wants show love when I wanna fight,
Now someone understand me. — Juxtaposition

I felt myself no longer a husk but a body with some of the body's sweet juices stirring again. I had my first dream in many months, confused but to this day imperishable, with a flute in it somewhere, and a wild goose, and a dancing girl. — William Styron

I pushed her shiny blond hair away from her face and leaned down, our faces only inches apart. She inhaled softly, our lips so close I could feel her breath and the scent of her skin, like honeysuckle in springtime. She smelled like sweet tea and old books, like she had always been here.
I pulled my fingers through her hair and held it at the back of her neck. Her skin was soft and warm, like a Mortal girl's. There was no electric current, no shocks. We could kiss for as long as we wanted. If we had a fight, there wouldn't be a flood or a hurricane, or even a storm. I wouldn't find her on the ceiling of her bedroom. No windows would shatter. No exams would catch fire.
Liv held up her face to be kissed.
She wanted me. — Kami Garcia

I played a real nasty little girl but most of the roles I had up until then were very sweet and very nice. — Morgan Brittany

The girls I dream of are the gentle ones, wistful by high windows or singing sweet old songs at a piano, long hair drifting, tender as apple blossom. But a girl who goes into battle beside you and keeps your back is a different thing, a thing to make you shiver. Think of the first time you slept with someone, or the first time you fell in love: that blinding explosion that left you cracking to the fingertips with electricity, initiated and transformed. I tell you that was nothing, nothing at all, beside the power of putting your lives, simply and daily, into each other's hands. — Tana French

I didn't want to be a sweet boy's sweet girlfriend. I wanted to be Fawn's equal, the kind of girl who stood up for herself and took care of business, who cut guys loose when it was required. — Paula McLain

The smell of cigarette smoke in the air in a tavern that changes names often,
a bar cursed because of a girl who died of a drug overdose
in the basement, we put a few coins in the jukebox;
chose "Angel Band" by Johnny Cash and sat down at the bar,
ordered a soda, you wanted a whiskey on the rocks.
We saw the coal miner who moved here from West Virginia
knocking back liquor like I drink sweet tea.
No one asked why he was so solemn today.
It was warm. It was relatively quiet.
To anyone else, this place could feel sinister.
But to us, it was freedom. It was a hiding place.
No one was ever here long enough to know us.
And we liked it that way. — Taylor Rhodes

Out of the starless night that covers me,
(O tribulation of the wind that rolls!)
Black as the cloud of some tremendous spell,
The susurration of the sighing sea
Sounds like the sobbing whisper of two souls
That tremble in a passion of farewell.
To the desires that trebled life in me,
(O melancholy of the wind that rolls!)
The dreams that seemed the future to foretell,
The hopes that mounted herward like the sea,
To all the sweet things sent on happy souls,
I cannot choose but bid a mute farewell.
And to the girl who was so much to me
(O lamentation of this wind that rolls!)
Since I may not the life of her compel,
Out of the night, beside the sounding sea,
Full of the love that might have blent our souls,
A sad, a last, a long, supreme farewell. — William Ernest Henley

Nothing they say or do can ever change the man you are," Trinity continued. "A man I love with all my heart, and Nan does too. They don't matter; their words mean nothing."

I stared back at her as I allowed what she said to really sink in. She was right. I knew she was right. I just got so lost in the anger I had for them that I let their words eat away at me.
"Have I told you lately how amazing you are?"
I asked as she cocked her head in the cute quirky way she did when I gave her a compliment.
"Because you are, and the way you calm me, the way you give me a sense of clarity even in my weakest of times, just confirms how perfect you are."

"I'm not perfect, Chase," she whispered in return and it was my turn to take her face in my hands.

"You're perfect for me," I whispered as I tilted my head toward hers and pressed my lips against hers. "I love you, sweet girl, so damn much. — C.A. Harms

I love a girl with a sense of humor. Someone who can make me laugh and that I can get along with and talk with and who is just sweet overall, inside and out. — Logan Henderson

The sweet smell of success is no perfume for a woman. Say it's old-fashioned, say it's corny, but, as far as I can see, a girl who wears a 'business scent' is not attractive. A woman who flaunts her career as if it was a new hat is not beautiful. — Rod Taylor

He slipped his hands around my waist and pulled me against him, tossing the ice cream cone over his shoulder. It landed with a splat on the sidewalk. "So does that mean I have a varsity girlfriend?"
I giggled like a total girl and linked my hands behind his neck. "Yeah I guess it does."
"Sweet." Then he bent his head, and I stood up on my tiptoes and we met in the middle. And it was perfect. — Stephie Davis

- Is the brother with you, Malachi? - Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons. - Still there? I got a card from Bannon. Says he found a sweet young thing down there. Photo girl he calls her. - Snapshot, eh? Brief exposure. — James Joyce

Nice slippers," Davin grinned. They were green and furry. "Thanks." I shrugged and looked him over, half expecting to see a new injury. "So what's up?" He had one hand behind his back. — J.M. Richards

A sweet slip of a girl like you, why should you have to know anything about the sorrow of the world? You just believe me when I tell you ... there's no way to live your life to the full and not have a reason to shed a tear now and again. It's not a bad feeling, child. That's what a lament does. It makes you feel happy to be sad, in a strange way. D'you see? — Clive Barker

If you need us, for anything, never forget we are here for you. All of us. You have done amazing things to make this world a better place."
That was really sweet. And sincere. And if I didn't look away from his kind expression, I was just going to cry like a little girl.
"Wait until you see my encore," I said. — Devon Monk

When John took those naked pictures, the most popular singer was a girl with a tiny stick body and a large deferential head, who sang in a delicious lilt of white lace and promises and longing to be close. When she shut herself up in her closet and starved herself to death, people were shocked. But starvation was in her voice all along. That was the poignancy of it. A sweet voice locked in a dark place, but focused entirely on the tiny strip of light coming under the door.
I drop the rag in the bucket and smoke some more, ashing into the sink,. A tiny piece of the movie from the naked time plays on my eyeball: A psychotic killer is blowing up amusement parks. At the head of the crowd clamoring to ride the roller coaster is a slim, lovely man with long blond hair and floppy clothes and big, beautiful eyes fixed on a tiny strip of light that only he can see. — Mary Gaitskill

I prefer working on films. I like the variety. There is nothing better than playing a bad girl for two months, then playing someone sweet for the next two. Films give you this opportunity. — Amy Weber

Sleep tight in the secure arms of your daddy. I know I have. He'll be good at making you feel safe.
When you're scared, let him remind you that he's right there, always ready to hold you when you need it.
More than anything, I want to tell you this: You are a fighter. You are strong. You are brave. You can accomplish anything you set your mind to. This world is yours to make the most of, and I believe you will live a life so full of happiness that I will feel it from above.
Never let others bring you down. Their words don't change who you are. You are in control of who you are. You, my sweet Lila Kate, are your mother's daughter. We fight for what we want and what we believe in. We don't listen to others, and we are secure in who we are. Show the world how amazing Lila Kate Carter is, and climb mountains, baby girl. Climb them all. — Abbi Glines

I have no idea what I've done wrong, so I shrink back and he catches it. He points a finger at me, "Don't. Don't do that." Then he sighs, "Fuck me." Placing my hair behind my ear, he murmurs an awestruck, "So much sweet tucked behind the fierce. I don't know what to do with you, girl. You're killin' me. — Belle Aurora

It would take little effort for her to hurt him right now. She could hurt him badly.
But Griffin King could hurt her, as well, and he hadn't. Instead of using force or violence against her, he used patience and understanding. She had no defense against that.
When he let her go, she was shaking. Tears filled her eyes as she turned to her mother who stood staring at her in horror.
"My sweet little girl," her mother whispered. "I didn't know. I would never ... " Her words faded into a choked sob. Finley crossed the short distance between them on quivering legs and wrapped her arms around the shorter woman. She didn't care if Griffin or his nasty aunt saw her tears. If anything was worth crying over, the discovery that her father had made her a monster had to be one. — Kady Cross

I know about the sweet home. I went to school with 'em boys, what became Lynyrd Skynyrd; I knew Allen Collins, the skinny girl-beautiful guitarist. I put Allen Collins in every travel piece I do. Travel writing is harrowing, going to Bermuda with a banjo on my knee. — Padgett Powell

My name's not Jerry," he grumbled, raising his head.
"I know, but it's the only way I can get your attention, kid."
"What did you want?" Japhet muttered.
"I said, do you have a girl?"
Japhet squinted at him and rubbed his nose.
"A girl?" he asked.
"Yeah. You do know what a girl is, don't you? Female version of the male? Whole lot prettier. Sweet temperament. Heard they're great for marrying. Thought a handsome, half starved and nearly dead Jew like you would have one of those by now. — Jack Lewis Baillot