Like That She Was Done Quotes & Sayings

Was that hard-hearted? Well, so what if it was. She'd been through enough to harden anyone. It was none of her choosing; all she'd done was clung on to her life like a spar from a shipwreck. Better to be hardened than crushed to nothing. — Emma Donoghue

She saw that they felt themselves alone in that crowded room. And Vronsky's face, always so firm and independent, held that look that had struck her, of bewilderment and humble submissiveness, like the expression of an intelligent dog when it has done wrong.
Anna smiled, and her smile was reflected by him. She grew thoughtful, and he became serious. Some supernatural force drew Kitty's eyes to Anna's face. She was enchanting in her simple black dress, enchanting were her round arms with their bracelets, enchanting was her firm neck with its thread of pearls, fascinating the straying curls of her loose hair, enchanting the graceful, light movements of her little feet and hands, enchanting was that lovely face in its animation, but there was something terrible and cruel about her charm. — Leo Tolstoy

Sophie Betsuie lost her composure and returned to the hogan, crying. She was beating herself up with a club made out of the words if only, and I knew what it felt like. If only I hadn't done this. If only someone else hadn't done that. I hoped she would learn sooner, rather than later, that you can't unchoose anyone's choices, least of all your own. All you can do with your past is try to grow out of it. — Kevin Hearne

The butterfly wallpaper was now gone. It had been replaced by a moody, breathless wallpaper of silver, sprinkled with tiny white dots that looked like stars. It made her feel an odd sense of anticipation, like last night. Grandpa Vance couldn't have come in last night and done this.
Did it really change on its own?
It was beautiful, this wallpaper. It made the room look like living in a cloud. She put her hand against the wall by her dresser. It was soft, like velvet. How could her mother not have told her a room like this existed? She'd never mentioned it. Not even in a bedtime story. — Sarah Addison Allen

Even souvenir seekers. One of the worst contaminants was fellow officers, especially brass grandstanding if reporters were present and eager to grab a video bite to slap on the twenty-four-hour news cycle. One more glance at the circular coffin. Okay, Amelia Sachs thought: Knuckle time ... A phrase of her father's. The man had also been cop, a beat patrolman working the Deuce - Midtown South; back then Times Square was like Deadwood in the 1800s. "Knuckle time" referred to those moments when you have to go up against your worst fears. Breadbasket ... Sachs returned to the access door and climbed through it and down into the utility room below the cellar. Then she took the evidence collection gear bag from the other officer. Sachs said, "You search the basement, Jean?" "I'll do it now," Eagleston said. "And then get everything into the RRV." They'd done a fast examination of the cellar. But it was apparent that the perp had spent minimal time there. He'd grabbed Chloe, subdued — Jeffery Deaver

Grinning to himself, Blue went out the door pulling out on his T-shirt. So sue him, he had changed his mind, but he sure wasn't going to quite admit it. She'd laugh like a hyena, and he had some pride. He found his hat, made sure to clean up Roy's kitchen, and went out to see to the horses. God, had he ever had so much fun in a relationship before? Most of them had been just about sex, and he and Jenna still hadn't even done that.
Maybe that was the secret. Liking someone first and then realizing you wanted to make love to them made a lot more sense. Blue put on his hat. And he would be making love with Jenna, he was damned sure about that. Sometimes even a Marine had to reassess his priorities.
44% — Kate Pearce

She had doll-like, almost delicate limbs, small hands, and hardly any hips.
But she now had breasts.
All her life sje jad been flat-chested, as if she had never reached puberty. She thought it had looked ridiculous, and she was always uncomfortable showing herself naked.
Now, all of a sudden, she had breasts. They were by no means gigantic - that was not whatshe had wanted, and they would have looked ridiculous on her otherwise skinny body - but they were two solid, round breasts of medium size. The enlargements had been well done, and the proportions were reasonable. But the difference was dramatic. — Stieg Larsson

She found out that having something to do prevented you from feeling seasick, and that even a job like scrubbing a deck could be satisfying, if it was done in a seamanlike way. She was very taken with this notion, and later on she folded the blankets on her bunk in a seamanlike way, and put her possessions in the closet in a seamanlike way, and used 'stow' instead of 'tidy' for the process of doing so. After two days at sea, Lyra decided that this was the life for her. — Philip Pullman

Two free days like an open mouth. They drank beer all day in the sun and passed out, and when she woke, she was burnt all over, and it was sunset, and Lotto had started building something enormous with sand, already four feet high and ten feet long and pointing toward the sea. Woozy, standing, she asked what it was.
He said, 'spiral jetty.'
She said, 'In sand?'
He smiled and said, 'That's its beauty.'
A moment in her bursting open, expanding. She looked at him. She hand't seen it before, but there was something special here. She wanted to tunnel inside him to understand what it was. There was a light under the shyness and youth, a sweetness, a sudden surge of the old hunger in her to take a part of him into her and make him briefly hers.
Instead, she bent and helped, they all did. And deep into the morning, when it was done, they sat in silence, huddled against the cold wind and watched the tide swallow it whole. Everything had changed somehow — Lauren Groff

Have you ever done something so far out of your normal behavior that it was freeing?" She wouldn't plead, but she wasn't above a little coercion. She whispered into his ear and gave the lobe a quick nibble. "I mean. We're stuck here together. I like you a lot and have talked to you more than anyone else in a long time. If this was a date I'd be thinking of letting you into my apartment for a nightcap or whatever it is people call it now. Want to throw morals and all that out the window for a little bit? — Lea Barrymire

Anger rose like bile within his chest. It was her. Ever since he had laid eyes on her she had caused him nothing but confusion and conflict. He had allowed himself to feel ... something. And she had repaid him by pointing his own gun at his face. His fingers touched upon the left side of his face. It still stung, in more ways than one. He pushed at his cheek, wanting to feel the tight, itchy burn just beneath the surface. He should find her. Bring her back. Take control of her and, in the process, himself. Is that the only reason you want her back? He thought of her soft supple body pressed against his, her arms wrapped around his midsection.
He'd let her go, he'd done it through his own stupidity, but he'd let her go. And all he could think about was that she hadn't even looked back. She'd just run away ... from him. — C.J. Roberts

I touched the combination lock. I concentrated so hard I felt like I was dead-lifting five hundred pounds. My pulse quickening. A line of sweat trickled down my nose. Finally I felt gears turning. Metal groaned, tumblers clicked, and the bolts popped back. Carefully avoiding the handle, I pried open the door with my fingertips and extracted an unbroken vial of green liquid.
Hal exhaled.
Thalia kissed me on the cheek, which she probably shouldn't haven't done while I was holding a tube of deadly poison.
"You are so good," she said.
Did that make the risk worth? Yeah, pretty much. — Rick Riordan

For once I didn't look away immediately. I forced myself to meet her contemptuous gaze. I allowed myself be swept away by it, to drown in it - the way I'd done so many times before. The way I would willingly do again. Because at least she was here to hate me. At least I had that. I watched my daughter conjure up the filthiest look in her vast arsenal before she turned away with complete disdain. I didn't mind that so much. It meant I could watch her, drink her in without her protest.
Look at our daughter, Callum. Isn't she beautiful, so very beautiful? She laughs like me, but when she smiles ... Oh Callum, when she smiles, it's picnics in Celebration Park and sunsets on our beach and our very first kiss all over again. When Callie Rose smiles at me, she lights up my life.
When Callie Rose smiles at me. — Malorie Blackman

A man is always a little shamefaced on his wedding day, like a fox caught in a baited trap, ensnared because his greed overcame his better judgment. The menfolk laughed at Charlie that spring day, and said he was caught for sure now. As the bride, I was praised and fussed over, as if I had won a prize or done something marvelous that no one ever did before, and I could not help feeling pleased and clever that I had managed to turn myself from an ordinary girl into a shining bride. Now I think it is a dirty lie. The man is the one who is winning the game that day, though they always pretend they are not, and the poor girl bride is led into a trap of hard work and harsh words, the ripping of childbirth and the drubbing of her man's fists. It is the end of being young, but no one tells her so. Instead they make over her, and tell her how lucky she is. I wonder do slaves get dressed up in finery on the day they are sold. — Sharyn McCrumb

It was a realization for me when Oprah was talking about New Moon. I was like, "Oh, my god, she's watched a movie that I've been in!" People were like, "It just kicked in for you?," but it's just work for me. The idea that somebody that I've admired for so long had seen something that I'd done was when I understood the magnitude of it. — Tinsel Korey

What was wrong with the past?" asked Mama Ramotswe. She intended the question seriously. There were too many people who took the view that the past was bad, that we should rid ourselves of all traces of it as soon as possible. But the past was not bad; some of it may have been less than perfect-- there had been cruelties then that we had done well to get rid of-- but there had also been plenty of good things. There had been the old Botswana ways, the courtesy and the kindness; there had been the attitude that you should find time for other people and not always be in a desperate rush; there had been the belief that you should listen to other people, should talk to them, rather than spend all your time fiddling with your electronic gadgets; there had been the view that it was a good thing to sit under a tree sometimes and look up at the sky and think about cattle or pumpkins or non-electric things like that. — Alexander McCall Smith

He read the letter again, but could not take in any more meaning than he had done the first time and was reduced to staring at the handwriting itself. She had made her g's the same way he did : he searched through the letter for every one of them, and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil. The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son. — J.K. Rowling

But that was long ago. She has long since lost interest in motives, in the details of other women's crimes. Even the hatchet makes its usual sense. A mother who loves her child with all her self is only so far from the hatchet anyway; one casual swing and it's done. Hatred, love, all muddled up in that space inside a whisper, when the words don't matter anymore, when the baby's half asleep and you can carry it all the way there if you want, on nothing but the tone of your voice. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall. Sing it as softly as you like - the words clench their own teeth. The child still falls. — Emily Ruskovich

I hope when this is done I'll be able to get back into my happy gardening vibe that was so healthy for me. I want to go back to my routine and my morning ritual with the compost, but it will probably be that my life will split in two. New Leaf Gardening in Wood Green will be happening in parallel to a fantasy that runs along the bottom of that screen like a ticker. Alice will be fine. Rabbit will stay up tonight, and every night. Resending and resending, reopening the page to see if she has responded, if anyone has. The spinning wheel will make my eyes hurt and everything else will go dark. — Olivia Sudjic

You would be forgiven for thinking Alex Morningside was a boy. In fact, she would be the first to laugh at this, because, for one thing, she wasn't, and for another, she had an Excellent Sense of Humour. It wasn't that she wanted to be a boy or anything, it was simply that she didn't see much difference in being treated as a girl or boy. Because, after all, everyone is just people.
One of the reasons people thought she was a boy was her haircut. Her haircut looked like someone had put a bowl on her head and cut around it. Which is exactly what her uncle had done. Also, they thought she was a boy because her name was Alex. Of course, Alex was short for Alexandra, but neither Alex nor her uncle liked that very much, so they shortened the name. They could have shortened it the other was I suppose - Andra - but she and her uncle preferred Alex. — Adrienne Kress

Harry's extremities seemed to have gone numb. He stood quite still, holding the miraculous paper in his nerveless fingers while inside him a kind of quiet eruption sent joy and grief thundering in equal measure through his veins. Lurching to the bed, he sat down.

He read the letter again, but could not take in any more meaning than he had done the first time, and was reduced to staring at the handwriting itself. She had made her "g's" the same way he did: he searched the letter for every one of them, and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil. The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing into these letters, words about him, Harry, her son. — J.K. Rowling

Many bad things were done under the Evil Empire" she said. "The best we can do now is undo them. Will you assist in this endeavor?"
"In every way that I can" said Nutt.
"I would like you to teach them civilized behavior," said Ladyship coldly.
He appeared to consider this. "Yes, of course, I think, that would be quite possible," he said. "And who would you send to teach the humans?"
There was a brief outburst of laughter from Vetinari, who immediately cupped his hand over his mouth. "Oh I do beg your pardon," he said. — Terry Pratchett

She started to rise, for she feared Dash might become angry, lose his temper as he had before with Finn, but this Dash, this man who was struggling to find his footing, planted his feet solidly on the deck.
"She married someone else, Finn," he said quietly. "There was no battle to fight once she'd done that. I'd lost, and sometimes when you lose, there is nothing you can do but move on."
Finn sighed and shook his head, the arguments and problems of adults far beyond his ken, but he still persisted, struggling to understand. "Did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Move on? After you lost her?"
Again, Dash shook his head. "Nay, I didn't. Not at all."
"'Cause you loved her?"
Dash looked away. "Aye. Without her, I lost my course and sailed about the seas rather like the Dutchman. — Elizabeth Boyle

As they sat at the table, she did not like the girls talking among themselves, or discussing matters she knew nothing about, and she did not encourage any mention of boyfriends. She was mainly interested in clothes and shoes, and where they could be bought and at what price and at what time of the year. Changing fashions and new trends were her daily topic, although she herself, as she often pointed out, was too old for some of the new colours and styles. Yet, Eilis saw, she dressed impeccably and noticed every item each of her lodgers was wearing. She also loved discussing skin care and different types of skin and problems. Mrs. Kehoe had her hair done once a week, on a Saturday, using the same hairdresser each time, spending several hours with her so that her hair would be perfect for the rest of the week. — Colm Toibin

When he got quiet again, she assumed he was done talking. Instead, he spoke up one last time: "I only have one other secret." "What's that?" "Don't tell anyone . . . but I like that goddamn cat of yours." Tilting her head to the side, Beth smiled at the Shadow. "I have a feeling . . . he's pretty fond of you, too. — J.R. Ward

Jessica tended Kendrick's hurts before the fire and Richard only had to unclench his fists two or three times. And then his turn came. He sat down on the floor and Jessica fussed over him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had done the like. It had probably been at Artane years ago. Somehow, Lady Anne's touch hadn't pleased him as Jessica's did. When she pulled away, he opened his eyes to beg her not to cease, then realized there was nothing left to do. He caught her by the hand and pulled her close, not caring that Kendrick sat behind him and was likely on the verge of laughing. He very carefully pressed his lips against hers. "Thank you." "You're extremely welcome. — Lynn Kurland

We can't lose you," she said after a few moments of awkward as hell silence. "You have to understand that we aren't doing this because we don't care about Kat. We're doing this because we love you."
"But I love her," I said without hesitation.
Dee's eyes widened, probably since it was the first time she'd herd me say it out loud, well, about anyone other than my family. I wished I had said it more often, especially to Kat. Funny how that kind of shit always turns out in the end. While you're deep in something, you never say or do what you need to. It's always after the fact, when it's too late that you realize what you've should've said or done/
It couldn't be too late. I knew that. The fact that I was still alive was testament to that. Like Dee said, though, there were worse things than death. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

He turned the crank handles, hoping the thing wouldn't explode in his face. A few clear tones rang out-metallic yet warm. Leo manipulated the levers and gears. He recognized the song that sprang forth-the same wistful melody Calypso sang for him on Ogygia about homesickness and longing. But through the strings of the brass cone, the tune sounded even sadder, like a machine with a broken heart-the way Festus might sound if he could sing.
Leo forgot Apollo was there. He played the song all the way through. When he was done, his eyes stung. He could almost smell the fresh-baked bread from Calypso's kitchen. He could taste the only kiss she'd ever given him. — Rick Riordan

I haven't done anything you're supposed to do. Like get so drunk you puke and don't remember the rest of the night."
"Overrated, I swear."
She looked at me, that deadly look on her face, and I held up my hands. "Fine. You wanna get drunk and puke, I'm not gonna stop you."
"But I want to do, like more than just drinking." Her brow furrowed and I could practically see the wheels in her brain spinning. "I should make a list and outline a plan."
I was going to point out that list-making wasn't the best way to let loose, but I decided to let it go. — Cindi Madsen

Who the hell are you?" "A friend of a friend." "Like who?" "Marianne, works at Charlie Char-Broil." "That silly bitch hasn't got any friends." Had I done any pleading or begging, she would have slammed the door. So I stood easy, mildly smiling. It's a relaxed area. There is a code for all the transients. If you are presentable, unhurried, vaguely indifferent, it is a challenge. I was having better luck with this than I expected, up to this point. I wanted it to continue. If you push against hostility and suspicion, you merely increase it. In a few moments I saw a little less animosity. — John D. MacDonald

Eventually she came. She appeared suddenly, exactly like she'd done that day- she stepped into the sunshine, she jumped, she laughed and threw her head back, so her long ponytail nearly grazed the waistband of her jeans.
After that, I couldn't think about anything else. The mole on the inside of her right elbow, like a dark blot of ink. The way she ripped her nails to shreds when she was nervous. Her eyes, deep as a promise. Her stomach, pale and soft and gorgeous, and the tiny dark cavity of her belly button.
I nearly went crazy. — Lauren Oliver

She was unhappy. I'd made her unhappy. Making Jennifer unhappy was officially the worst feeling in the world, right up there with disappointing my brother Billy and seeing my sister cry.

So I blurted, "Have you ever done a cookiestand?"

She shook her head, sniffing, turning away from me to grab two cups.

"What's that?" Her voice was rough.

"It's like a keg stand, but with cookies."

Jenn's movements stilled. She blinked. A new frown formed, but this one was thoughtful, not miserable.

"You mean where those people do a handstand and drink beer?"

"That's right. But with cookies."

"That sounds awful."

"At least you don't get crumbs on your shirt." I bit into the third cookie.

"Yes, but," Jenn shook her head, a hesitant smile claiming her luscious lips, "then they'd go up your nose."

"That's the best part. You can save them for later. — Penny Reid

I wasn't ready to be done. Emma's birthday was the next week. I was going to sit her on my knee and tell her about the time I went to Italy with Julia, long before we had kids. Long before we got married, for that matter. I saw a painting that looked just like Emma; the girl in the painting was a beautiful, regal queen. I wanted Emma to know she was a queen."
If ghosts could cry, Mr. Grumpy would be crying. He looked at Richard. "Do you think she knows she is a queen? — Clare Bohning

You know, hon, after Stephie died, we never really talked about her." she says, her hands tight around the cart handle. "There's a lot of pain there. Still. I guess we feel like we failed her. Like maybe if we were home instead of away at college, we could've done something to fix her. Something my patents and the doctors and her boyfriend missed. Sometimes I think I don't have the right to talk about her. Like at the end, I don't know her well enough to say anything. So much of her life became secret. She spent all of her time with her boyfriend, and when she was home, her nose was buried in her diary. I swear that diary was her best friend, even more than Megan."
"Did you ever read it?" I ask.
"No."
"Not even after she died?"
Aunt Rachel shakes her head, removing an eggplant from the middle row and pressing her fingers against its flesh. "To this day, I don't know if I would've, either. We never found it, Delilah. It's like she just ... took it with her. — Sarah Ockler

She pressed the blade's tip into her palm and cut. Not as deeply as he had, but enough to ensure a successful exchange. Her blood welled, mingling with the droplets he'd left behind. He liked that, liked knowing some part of him was now inside her.
He reached out, clasped her hand against his, her wound against his. At the moment of contact, he felt a pop inside him, a tear on his soul, and though he'd never done anything like this before, he knew the vow had just made a place for itself inside him. — Gena Showalter

I sometimes used to ask myself, what on earth did I love her for? Maybe fore the warm hazel iris of her fluffy eyes, or for the natural side-wave of her brown hair, done anyhow, or again for that movement of her plump shoulders. But, probably the truth was that I loved her because she loved me. To her I was the ideal man: brains, pluck. And there was none dressed better. I remember once, when I first put on that new dinner jacket, with the vast trousers, she clapsed her hands, sank down on a chair and murmured: 'Oh, Hermann ... It was ravishment bordering upon something like heavenly woe. — Vladimir Nabokov

In the book, hummin bins made castles, and towers up to the sky. They tamed the animals and took care of them. And hummin bins helped each other. They were always good.
"When I was done, Ma asked, 'Delly, what are hummin bins?' 'They're like people, but better,' I said. Then I told her, 'When I grow up, I'm going to live with the hummin bins,' and she smiled.
"But Galveston grabbed the book, 'Let me see that,' she said, and started laughing. 'This says human beings. There's no such things as hummin bins.'
"'Ma, is it true?' I asked, and she nodded. 'How come you didn't tell me?' I cried.
"'I liked the hummin bins better, too,' she said." ...
"RB's right, Ferris Boyd. You are a hummin bin." Her eyeballs were wet, like they were swimming.
It was quiet, then, till RB's soft cloud voice said, "You're a hummin bin, too, Delly. — Katherine Hannigan

Henry McAllan was as landsick as any man I ever seen and I seen plenty of em, white and colored both. It's in their eyes, the way they look at the land like a woman they's itching for. White men already got her, they thinking, You mine now, just wait and see what I'm gone do to you. Colored men ain't got her and ain't never gone get her but they dreaming bout her just the same, with every push of that plow and every chop of that hoe. White or colored, none of em got sense enough to see that she the one owns them. She takes their sweat and blood and the sweat and blood of their women and children and when she done took it all she takes their bodies too, churning and churning em up till they one and the same, them and her. — Hillary Jordan

I will go to my grave regretting the photograph of me in an anti-aircraft carrier [actually, it was in an anti-aircraft gun emplacement, not a carrier], which looks like I was trying to shoot at American planes. [Actually, that was her intention in posing for the photograph the way she did.] It hurt so many soldiers. It galvanized such hostility. It was the most horrible thing I could possibly have done. It was just thoughtless. — Jane Fonda

Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn? — W.B.Yeats

And this, she saw, her dream had done. She had built against that fear a vision of power not wholly selfish - power to protect not only herself, but others. And that vision - however partial it had been in those days - was worth following. For it led not away from the fear, as a dream of rule might do, but back into it. The pattern of her life - as she saw it then, clear and far away and painted in bright colors - the pattern of her life was like an intricate song, or the way the Kuakgan talked of the grove's interlacing trees. There below were the dream's roots, tangled in fear and despair, nourished in the death of friends, the bones of the strong, the blood of the living, and there high above were the dream's images, bright in the sun like banners or the flowering trees of spring. And to be that banner, or that flowering branch, meant being nourished by the same fears: meant encompassing them, not rejecting them. — Elizabeth Moon

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

Oh, what had she done?"
He'd startled her; that was the problem. It was all his fault he was lying on the ground, looking rather cherub like, his blond hair curling about his ears, his bright blue eyes closed now, his masculine lips parted slightly as he slept the sleep of the dead.

She studied his masculine lips. And thought just how much havoc she could wreak if she kissed him. Served him right for startling her so.
Without analyzing whether she should do it, and just because she could, she pressed her mouth against his and gently kissed his lips, meaning only to give a quick peck and that was it....
His lips curved up under hers and for a second, she thought he was awake, smiling at her kissing him....
Her thoughts reverted to the kiss and immediately the human faery tale Sleeping Beauty and the prince giving the princess a kiss to wake her sprang to mind. Why ever did humans make up such nonsense anyway? — Terry Spear

My daughter Penelope has just looked over my shoulder to see what I have done so far. She remarks that it is beautifully written, and every word of it true. But she points out one objection. She says what I have done so far isn't in the least what I was wanted to do. I am asked to tell the story of the Diamond and, instead of that, I have been telling the story of my own self. Curious, and quite beyond me to account for. I wonder whether the gentlemen who make a business and a living out of writing books, ever find their own selves getting in the way of their subjects, like me? If they do, I can feel for them. In the meantime, here is another false start, and more waste of good writing-paper. What's to be done now? Nothing that I know of, except for you to keep your temper, and for me to begin it all over again for the third time. — Wilkie Collins

In the end it was Tabby who cast the deciding vote, as she so often has at crucial moments in my life. I'd like to think I've done the same for her from time to time, because it seems to me that one of the things marriage is about is casting the tiebreaking vote when you just can't decide what you should do next. — Stephen King

Getting ink felt right, like it would help her put her life in order, to move forwards. It was her body, despite the things that'd been done to it, and she wanted to claim it, to own it, to prove that to herself. She knew it wasn't magic, but the idea of writing her own identity felt like the closest she could get to reclaiming her life. Sometimes there's power in the act; sometimes there's strength in words. She wanted to find an image that represented those things she was feeling, to etch it on her skin as tangible proof of her decision to change. — Melissa Marr

Jace's clothes had been clean,stylish,ordinary. Sebastian had been wearing a long black wool trench coat that had looked expensive.
Like an evil Burbeery ad, Simon said when she was done. — Cassandra Clare

She did get put through the system with a lot of the hit songwriters, who were great songwriters, but it was more like 'This is how it's done here. It turned her off - not specific people, but the whole system turned her off. And she wanted to do something, I think, that she could play for her friends in Texas and they would say, Okay, well you're still Miranda. — Frank Liddell

Well, you still don't know if he changed my name." Jen couldn't help the wicked grin that spread across her face.
"What do you mean if he changed your name?" Decebel growled and he could tell he wasn't going to like the answer.
Jen's response was to start singing 'Meet Virginia' as she climbed back in the vehicle. She heard Decebel's growl and shut and locked the door just as he lunged for her. She looked at him through the glass and winked.
"Jennifer Adams, what have you gone and done to that poor wolf now?" Sally whispered to her mischievous friend.
"Just gave him some extra incentive to come back alive."
Loftis, Quinn (2011-11-18). Blood Rites: Book 2 Grey Wolves Series (The Grey Wolves Series) (pp. 203-204). Kindle Edition. — Quinn Loftis

Love.
That was the piece that had been missing, way before Prague. That was that piece that had been missing in her life until Will came and made her feel it, for their work together and for the beauty and also for him, though it was hard sometimes to separate those things. Maybe she didn't love Will like she thought. Or couldn't in this moment.
But what they'd done together, what had been open by becoming so close, she could still love that. She could love their conversations and their hours at the piano and the results of their work. She could even love the way it hurt right now, because when was the last time she gave her whole heart to something?
That, all of it, belonged to her. She didn't have to let Will take it away, the way she'd let her grandfather, the business, herself, take her love for music. — Sara Zarr

Once she was gone, I knelt next to Annabeth and felt her forehead. She was still burning up.
"You're cute when you're worried," she muttered. "Your eyebrows get all scrunched together."
"You are not going to die while I owe you a favor," I said. "Why did you take that knife?"
"You would've done the same for me."
It was true. I guess we both knew it. Still, I felt like somebody was poking my heart with a cold metal rod. — Rick Riordan

All I wanted was for you to be okay. All I wanted was to help you. I would've done anything."
She drops her chin to her chest. "Yes, I know. You wanted to rescue me."
"Damn, Mia. You say that like it's a bad thing. — Gayle Forman

What are you doing?" Alain asked.
"Starting a fire, of course." Mari held up the thing in her hand. "It's a fire-starter. A really simple device. Haven't you ever seen one?"
Alain shook his head. "Never. That thing seems very complicated. I do not understand how it can work."
"How do you start fires?"
That was a Guild secret. Or was it? The elders had told him that no Mechanic could understand how it worked. What would this Mechanic say if he told her? "I use my mind to channel power to create a place where it is hot, altering the nature of the illusion there," Alain explained, "and then use my mind to put that heat on what I want to burn."
"Oh," Mechanic Mari said. "Is that actually how you visualize the process?"
"That is how it is done," Alain said.
"That's ... interesting." She grinned. "So, instead of making fire by doing something complicated or hard to understand like striking a flint, you just alter the nature of reality. That is a lot simpler. — Jack Campbell

Thank you for being here and doing so much to help pull this off. It was perfect. Today was perfect," Kane added. The huge grin on his face lit up his eyes, causing them to twinkle. That smile made Avery feel like a million dollars. All the work, every bit of planning he'd done, had been so he could see that smile on his Kane's handsome face. "It's not every day your son gets married to such a fine man. Where else would I be?" There were tears in her eyes and she hugged them both tightly. "I'm very proud. — Kindle Alexander

A pity that she gets so upset about little things, isn't it?"
"Like the time we sneaked the greased piglet into Mrs. Astor's parlor."
Smiling reminiscently, Lillian knelt before the door and worked the pin into the lock. "You know, I've always wondered why Mother didn't appreciate that we did it in her defense. Something had to be done after Mrs. Astor wouldn't invite Mother to her party."
"I think Mother's point was that putting livestock in someone's house does little to recommend us as future party guests."
"Well, I didn't think that was nearly as bad as the time we set off the Roman candle in the store on Fifth Avenue."
"We were obligated to do that, after that salesman had been so rude. — Lisa Kleypas

The unnatural beast plummeted to the ground, vainly attempting to keep his entrails in and put out the fire that covered him. Morfyd spewed another spell at the retreating form and Hefaidd-Hen burst into pieces.
Fearghus glanced at his sister. "That was a bit much, don't you think?"
She gave an innocent shrug. "I like to be certain. — G.A. Aiken

Jim looked into her tear-washed eyes and saw her anguish. For a moment it was as though he shared a measure of the bitter brew - and felt poisoned. She smiled sadly. "Everything was done properly. The right equipment, a sterile environment. Just like you were saying to Dynah. But it wasn't all right, Jim." "What do you mean?" "I couldn't have children. When Doug and I got married, I wanted a baby more than anything, maybe to atone for what I'd done. Or just because it was always a part of what I wanted. Every time I got pregnant, I miscarried. My gynecologist said it was because of the abortion. Dynah was a miracle." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "You told my daughter everything would be fine in a few days. Maybe, God willing, that's the way it'll be. But you know what, Jim? There's more to it than the physical part. It's been twenty-nine years, and I'm still not over it. — Francine Rivers

What plan of action? What can be done? We can't fight the whole society."
"I was thinking we could use you as bait and draw them into a trap," Gregori said, straight-faced.
Gary's eyes widened in alarm. "I'm not sure I like that plan. Sounds a little risky to me." He looked at Savannah for support.
Gregori shrugged his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. "I do not see a risk."
Savannah's small clenched fist thumped his stomach in retaliation. Gregori glanced down at her with surprise. "Is this when I am supposed to say ouch?"
Savannah and Gary exchanged a long, mournful groan. "Why did I want him to have a sense of humor?" she wondered.
Gary shook his head. "Don't be asking me. You created the monster. — Christine Feehan

She squeezed her eyes closed. She heard the buggy stop, heard Colin's boots hit the ground, knew that he strode toward her side of the wagon. "Felicia, where do you think you're going?" "Away," she whispered. Strong hands closed around her waist, and suddenly she was airborne, lifted off the wagon seat and then set gently on the ground. Her eyes flew open. "You're not going anywhere, Miss Kristoffersen. Not until I've done this." His lips claimed hers in the kiss she'd longed for, even when she hadn't known it. The kiss was gentle, yet it sent her senses reeling. She felt turned upside down and wrong side out. His arms gathered her closer, and she felt their hearts beating as one. Oh, if they could only stay like this forever. — Robin Lee Hatcher

Why should I mind?" She drummed her fingertips against his knee. "Because you got asked to play baseball, while I got a lecture on circumspection, Jezebels, and leading men into sin?"
"Did you really?" He managed to sound annoyed, fascinated, and amused all at once.
"It's not funny."
"Of course it's not." He was quick to try and placate her. "But we can do something about those lectures real quick. All you have to do is marry me."
Coyote Bluff had too many secrets that weren't hers to share. She couldn't put him in that position. He was a federal marshal. And she'd seen what all the lies her father told had done to her mother. She'd died hating him.
The last remnants of her earlier contentment vanished. "I like my independence."
"Then I guess you'll have to get used to the lectures, Sheriff Jezebel," he replied. — Paula Altenburg

Well, you look like something the cat dragged in," he remarked, immediately laying a hand on the warrior's forehead and closing his eyes in order to assess the damage done to the warrior's abused body.
Gideon did not understand why Elijah found his remark so terribly funny, but the warrior was laughing so hard that his nurse pinched him in the arm to stop him.
"I can't keep pressure with your chest bobbing up and down. Besides, Gideon will never be that funny," she said, giving him a cockeyed look. — Jacquelyn Frank

I do what I want to do. It was a brash statement of(her)girlhood. Now she was an adult, the boast seemed quaint. For rarely do you know what you want. Even after you've done it you can't say clearly if that was what you'd wanted or just something that happened to you, like weather. — Joyce Carol Oates

I don't want broth, I want an enormous piece of meat." Jessica held the trencher on his lap. "You'll eat broth because that's all your body can take right now - " "I'll eat what I bloody well feel like eating - " "Which is broth," she finished. She was almost nose to nose with him. "Don't push me, Richard." Richard had the overwhelming urge to strangle her. Unfortunately, she was close enough that he caught an eyeful of what his fist had done to her delicate features. He was shamed enough to be grateful she hadn't left him because of it. "I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "'Twas the fever." "That's why I'm still here. — Lynn Kurland

Arleigh said Rez was back at his own hotel now, but that he'd come later to spend some time with her and thank her for all she'd done. That made Chia feel strange. Now she'd seen him in real life, somehow that had taken over from all the other ways she'd known him before, and she felt kind of funny about him. Confused. Like all of this had pegged him in realtime for her, and she kept thinking of her mother complaining that Lo and Rez were nearly as old as she was. And — William Gibson

Keep quiet. Don't panic. Never tell anyone the truth. She'd lived with their rules for twelve years, and for what? So that she might one day be so lucky as to be forgotten entirely. The memory of Minerva Lane - of who she'd been, what she'd done - felt like a hot coal covered in cold ashes. It smoldered on long after the fire had been doused. Sometimes, all that heat rose up in her until she felt the need to shriek like a teapot. Until she wanted to burn the mousy shreds of her tattered personality. It rose up in her now, that fiery rebellion. The part of her that was still Minerva - the part that hadn't been ground to smoothness - whispered temptation in her ear. You don't need to keep quiet. You need a strategy. — Courtney Milan

They locked him in the stockade for four days. No other prisoners occupied the other cells that ran the length of the room. He was alone, and that was fine with him. He needed to think, and that was best done in a place where he wouldn't see Ginesse Braxton - Ginesse, not Mildred - because she did things to his thought processes, such as dammed them up completely.
She acted and he reacted: viscerally, irrepressibly, and ruinously.
She fell in the water; he dove in after her. She laughed; he smiled. She mentioned the beauty of the sunset; he saw colors in it he hadn't ever noticed. She peeked at him from under her gold-tipped lashes; he grew hard as Damascus steel. Pomfrey said something derogatory; he wanted to kill the sonofabitch with his bare hands.
Things like that. — Connie Brockway

I asked her what was so scary about unmerited free grace? She replied something like this: If I was saved by my good works
then there would be a limit to what God could ask of me or put me through. I would be like a taxpayer with rights. I would have done my duty and now I would deserve a certain quality of life. But if it is really true that I am a sinner saved by sheer grace
at God's infinite cost
then there's nothing he cannot ask of me. — Timothy Keller

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

Here's the story: 25 years ago, I had my lips injected with silicone. Stupid thing to do at 24. I saw 'Beaches.' Remember that movie 'Beaches'? I did it with my best girlfriend, so she and I go and we get our lips done. Fine. I have it like that for my whole career, right? So then cut to a couple of years ago, I have a doctor remove as much as they possibly can because it got to the point where they were yucky. You know, they get hard. It's gross. They are now whatever that was after they took out as much of the silicone as they could. — Lisa Rinna

When they separated, the freckleless spot between Pete's eyes was bright red. Before anything else could be said or done, May grabbed her bike and hopped on. She waited until she was six houses down to turn and see if he was still standing in the driveway watching her. He was. She stopped for just a moment, and they caught each other's eyes. Then he slowly started walking backward toward the house. May couldn't see that well, considering that her eyes were still a little blurry and he was far away, but it looked like he was smiling. — Maureen Johnson

The executioner's argument was that you couldn't cut of something's head unless there was a trunk to sever it from. He'd never done anything like that in his time of life, and wasn't going to start now.
The King's argument was that anything that had a head, could be beheaded, and you weren't to talk nonsense.
The Queen's argument was that if something wasn't done about it in less than no time, she'd have everyone beheaded all round.
It was this last argument that had everyone looking so nervous and uncomfortable. — Lewis Carroll

There is something of yours I would like to return to you."
"What?"
He leaned across the distance between them and caught her mouth with his own. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted easily as she felt the kiss sizzling through her nerves, rendering her thoughts to smoke.
"Um..." Kaye stepped make, a little unsteadily. "Why does that belong to me?"
"That was the kiss I stole from you when you were enchanted," he said patiently.
"Oh...well, what if I didn't want it?"
"You don't?"
No," she said, letting a grin spread across her face, hoping her mother would take her time of the drive over. "I'd like you to take it back again, please."
"I am your servant," the King of the Unseelie Court said, his lips a moment from her own, "Consider it done. — Holly Black

She couldn't quite see herself in it. When they were done, I read the Shakespeare sonnet that begins "Fear no more the heat o' the Sun," partly because it was appropriate to the occasion and one of the most beautiful poems in the language, but also because I hoped it might hide from my loved ones the fact that I myself had nothing to say, that while part of me was here with them on this beloved shore, another part was wandering, as it had been for months, in a barren, uninhabited landscape not unlike the one in my dream. I realized I'd felt like this for a while. Though life had gone on since my mother's death - Kate had gotten married, I'd finally published another book and gone on tour with it - some sort of internal-pause button had been pushed, allowing another part of me, one I'd specifically kept sequestered to deal with my mother, to fall silent. Since her death, Barbara and I had gone through all her things and settled her affairs, but we'd barely spoken of her. — Richard Russo

When the congregation began to disperse, a number of persons, chiefly ladies, waited for him near the pulpit, and, as he came down, met him with greetings and compliments. Nora watched him from her place, listening, smiling and passing his handkerchief over his forehead. At last they relieved him, and he came up to her. She remembered for years afterward the strange half-smile on his face. There was something in it like a pair of eyes peeping over a wall. It seemed to express so fine an acquiescence in what she had done, that, for the moment, she had a startled sense of having committed herself to something. He gave her his hand, without manifesting any surprise. "How — Henry James

Even though he had admitted to her that he used to watch me shower through a hole in the bathroom wall back when I was thirteen. She blamed us both for what we had "done" to her. But it sounds like she got over being mad at him pretty quick. She later told me that she had to go back and have sex with him one more time, just to make sure that there was nothing left between the two of them and to get some closure. That almost made me want to vomit. The only interaction between us after that was her showing up at the courthouse when I had to sit in front of a grand jury of twelve strangers and tell them what had happened. She came into the waiting room where I was sitting and started screaming that I was a whore and that I'd fucked her husband. She had to be escorted out of the court by two officers. That's what I got from her. — Ashly Lorenzana

I would have done anything. I just really love the Duplass brothers. I was at a place where I was desperate for good writing. It wasn't the part that attracted me to it; it was just to be able to work with them. And the fact that she's this kind of, like, loose cannon and this kind of desperate 40-year-old is just the icing on the cake. — Amanda Peet

When I was in school, in eighth grade, someone recognized something in me. She was an English teacher, and we read a play out loud in class, and she asked me to read one of the roles. I'd never done anything like that before, but something just lit up. — David Morse

Next Christmas he was going to open this shabby sack of hers ... and put something in the money compartment. She would fritter it away, of course, in small unimportances; so that in the end she would not know what she had done with it; but perhaps a series of small satisfactions scattered like sequins over the texture of everyday life was of greater worth than the academic satisfaction of owning a collection of fine objects at the back of a drawer. — Josephine Tey

It seems we've been at cross purposes, doesn't it? But it's no use now. As long as there was Bonnie, there was a chance that we might be happy. I liked to think that Bonnie was you, a little girl again, before the war, and poverty had done things to you. She was so like you, and I could pet her, and spoil her, as I wanted to spoil you. But when she went, she took everything. — Margaret Mitchell

Yet it had been delicious to touch her grandfather's robe. It was as different from ordinary material as something sung from something spoken. In a way she liked her grandfather. Once she had seen children crawling under a circus-tent so that they could see the elephant, and she would have done that to see her grandfather; and what she like in him was the upside-downness of him, as this inverted luxury which gave him an everyday possession
for she supposed this robe was just a dressing gown
which was uniquely exquisite ... — Rebecca West

Last night I dreamed about her," he said. "She had this shawl wrapped around her shoulders with tassels hanging off it, and her hair was long like old times. She said, 'Red, I want to learn every step of you, and dance till the end of the night.' " He stopped speaking. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. Denny and Stem stood with a screen balanced between them and looked at each other helplessly.

"Then I woke up," Red said after a minute. He stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. "I thought, 'This must mean I miss having her close attention, the way I've always been used to.' Then I woke up again, for real. Have either of you ever done that? Dreamed that you woke up, and then found you'd still been asleep? I woke up for real and I thought, 'Oh, boy. I see I've still got a long way to go with this.' Seems I haven't quite gotten over it, you know? — Anne Tyler

Life was like a jigsaw, but if you tried to fit the pieces together yourself, you generally got them wrong. Pierre had money; she needed money. Pierre was lovable and loved her; she would marry him. She had thought that was the pattern the pieces made. But it had been like trying to force two pieces together that didn't fit, and then, suddenly, the jigsaw had been done, in quite a different way, by other hands. — Monica Dickens

I know it's not much - "
"No one has ever done anything like this for me." He shook his head in awe, looking back at the greenhouse. "No one."
"It's just a dinner," she said, rubbing her neck and walking to the table, if only because the urge to go to him was so strong that she needed a table between them. — Sarah J. Maas

He answered the phone," she hissed, "before he was done. He answered the fucking phone and started talking about an inspection at one of his properties. Midconversation he looked at me lying there waiting for him and he said, 'You can go.' Just like that. He treated me like a whore, only I didn't get paid. He didn't even offered me a drink."
I closed my eyes. Jesus. — Sylvia Day

Search your heart. He's there, Kate. You can ignore Him, try to run and hide from Him, even convince yourself that He's not there, but He promised us that he would never leave or forsake us." He tipped his head to the side. "Kind of like how you promised not to leave Maggie when she was going through labor. Maggie still had to go through it. You couldn't take her pain away, but you were there to hold her hand, to encourage her, to make sure she knew she wasn't alone, and when it was all said and done, something beautiful came out of what she endured. — Jen Stephens

Aedion went rigid. "And what about our unquestioning loyalty? What have you done to earn that? What have you done to save our people since you've returned? Were you ever going to tell me about the blood oath, or was that just another of your many lies?"
Aelin snarled with an animalistic intensity that reminded him she, too, had Fae blood in her veins. "Go have your temper tantrum somewhere else. Don't come back until you can act like a human being. Or half of one, at least."
Aedion swore at her, a filthy, foul curse that he immediately regretted. Rowan lunged for him, knocking back his chair hard enough to flip it over, but Aelin threw out her hand. The prince stood down.
That easily, she leashed the mighty, immortal warrior. — Sarah J. Maas

I shivered as Raven scratched me gently. She was in a weird mood, nipping and licking like a hyper mouse.
"Did you drink too much caffeine today?" I asked.
Raven looked at me and I saw her walls ready to shoot back up to protect her heart. Instead, she grinned. "You're really hot, Vaughn. I've never had access to so much sexy man meat."
Just like that, all my plans to keep her at a distance disappeared. She had me at man meat.
Kissing her softly, I rolled her onto her back and she frowned. "I wasn't done exploring."
"There's a small charge for exploring this mountain of man meat."
"Did you just call your cock little?"
Frowning, I realized I had. — Bijou Hunter

You're pathetic. You screwed your best friend's boyfriend. Congratulations. You got into a guy's pants. Wonderful achievement for you. Revel in it. It'll last a week. He's going to drop you." I glanced at him, saw he was already uncertain, and rolled my eyes. "She's already dropped you and you're now known as the friend who sleeps with her friend's boyfriends. Congratulations on your new reputation. The only people who will want to be your friend will be people like you. You'll never get the good friends, the ones who are actual friends." I never looked away. I never faltered. The longer I talked, the more she withered beneath me. I was finished. "I've kept quiet, but I'm done. Mess with Mandy again and you will be messing with me." I stepped closer. "That's not a threat. It's a fact. Ball's in your court if you decide to take me on and with that said, get out of my house. — Tijan

The other night I took her on-out of pity-and what do you think the crazy bitch had done to herself? She had shaved it clean ... not a speck of hair on it. Did you ever have a woman who shaved her twat? It's repulsive, ain't it? And it's funny, too. Sort of mad like. It doesn't look like a twat any more: it's like a dead clam or something." He describes to me how, his curiosity aroused, he got out of bed and searched for his flashlight. "I made her hold it open and I trained the flashlight on it. You should have seen me ... it was comical. I got so worked up about it that I forgot all about her. I never in my life looked at a cunt so seriously. — Henry Miller

Your momma wanted to save you
save you from your fate. If she hadn't, you'd be nothing but a memory and a fear long forgotten. Just like all you who mix the breeds. What they want you two for, what they have planned." She shook her head again and when she looking at me, sorrow etched across her face. "They fear you, fear what comes from you. I told you child. I told you that your path was filled with dark things tat must be done. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Ye accepted Yang's proposal mainly out of gratitude. If he hadn't brought her into this safe haven in her most perilous moment, she would probably no longer be alive. Yang was a talented man, cultured and with good taste. She didn't find him unpleasant, but her heart was like ashes from which the flame of love could no longer be lit. As she pondered human nature, Ye was faced with an ultimate loss of purpose and sank into another spiritual crisis. She had once been an idealist who needed to give all her talent to a great goal, but now she realized that all that she had done was meaningless, and the future could not have any meaningful pursuits, either. As this mental state persisted, she gradually felt more and more alienated from the world. She didn't belong. The sense of wandering in the spiritual wilderness tormented her. After she made a home with Yang, her soul became homeless. One — Liu Cixin

What was Cinder like? She hadn't known her for all that long. She was a brilliant mechanic. She seemed to be honorable and brave and determined to do what needed to be done ... but Scarlet suspected she wasn't always as confident as she tried to appear on the outside. Also, she had a crush on Emperor Kai as big as Winter had on Jacin, although Cinder tried a lot harder to pretend otherwise. But — Marissa Meyer

You should read something else."
Why would he have done that to him?"
I don't know," she said.
Do you ever feel like Job?"
She smiled, a little twinkle in her eyes.
Sometimes."
But you haven't lost your faith?"
No," I knew she hadn't, but I think I was losing mine.
Is it because you think you might get better?"
No," she said,"its because its the only thing I have left. — Nicholas Sparks

Faintly, barely, she told herself maybe no one cared about what she had done. She was like John Dean, who described himself to the press as just a 'speck in the cosmos.' That was deeply reassuring, and it was also her worst fear. Time just went by. — Dana Spiotta

She wondered if this were what hell was about. Not a place of punishment but of disparity. Those who had done nothing to earn their fate lived like this, while three miles away, others rode the Ferris wheel and children raised their hands joyfully to a hot-air balloon that rained down candy on their heads. — James Lee Burke

The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. She had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure. She had believed in her own inherent goodness, her humanity, and lived accordingly, never causing anyone harm. Her devotion to doing things the right way had been unflagging, all her successes had depended on it, and she would have gone on like that indefinitely. She didn't understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never lived. — Han Kang

My mother had died when I wrote my first book. I was twenty-seven, so it was right at the beginning of my writing life. I don't know if she had lived, if I would have done it, certainly not quite like I did. But, you can't rethink it. You wrote what you wrote, it meant something to other people, and that's your good. — Anne Roiphe

missions. A moment later she heard the sound of the television start up. The clever little thing had worked out how to use the remote control. 'Not till August,' said Lauren. 'We've got lots to sort out. Visas and so on. We'll have to find an apartment, a nanny for Jacob.' A nanny for Jacob. 'Job for me.' Rob sounded a little nervous. 'Oh, yes, darling,' said Rachel. She did try to take her son seriously. She really did. 'A job for you. In real estate, do you think?' 'Not sure yet,' said Rob. 'We'll have to see. I might end up being a house husband.' 'So sorry I never taught him how to cook,' said Rachel to Lauren, not especially sorry. Rachel had never been much interested in cooking or that good at it; it was just another chore that had to be done, like the laundry. The way people went on these days about cooking. 'That's okay,' beamed Lauren. 'We'll probably eat out a lot in New York. The city that never sleeps, — Liane Moriarty

It's a nice fantasy life, she said when I was done. Well, I'm living it, so it's more than a fantasy. What about love? She took off her bandanna, loosing her blond waves. Don't you have someone you love? Why would I go do something like that? — Norman Ollestad

I wish you could have seen the kitchen when I was done: It looked like a hurricane had blown right in the door! But I cleaned it all up, and when Mother came home the whole house smelled warm and spicy, Bing Crosby was singing "White Christmas" on the radio, I was wearing a clean apron, and she called me her "little homemaker."
What would you think about tomato mincemeat cookies? I bet no one else will think of that! — Ruth Reichl