Love Her Wild Quotes & Sayings

I will follow you,
my love,
to the edge of all our days,
to our very last
tomorrows. — Atticus Poetry

Maybe there could be no future, no hope of anything more, but just looking at him standing there, in this moment, she wanted to be selfish and stupid and wild.
It could all go to hell tomorrow, but she had to know what it was like, just for a little while, to belong to someone, to be wanted and cherished.
He did not move, didn't do anything but stare - seeing her exactly how she saw him - as she grabbed the lapels of his tunic, pulled his face down to hers, and kissed him fiercely. — Sarah J. Maas

It was never the way she looked
always the way she was
I would have fallen in love with her
with my eyes closed. — Atticus Poetry

Poetry, is a life long war waged
against ineffable beauty. — Atticus Poetry

Edain came out of Midhir's hill, and lay
Beside young Aengus in his tower of glass,
Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds
And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,
And sleepy boughs, and boughs where apples made
Of opal and ruhy and pale chrysolite
Awake unsleeping fires; and wove seven strings,
Sweet with all music, out of his long hair,
Because her hands had been made wild by love.
When Midhir's wife had changed her to a fly,
He made a harp with Druid apple-wood
That she among her winds might know he wept;
And from that hour he has watched over none
But faithful lovers. — W.B.Yeats

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she'd fallen in love with Jace, but there had always been something about him that reminded her of a lion, a wild animal unfettered by rules, the promise of a life of freedom. Never "I can't," but always "I can." Always the risk and the surety, never the fear or the question. — Cassandra Clare

We are all born free
and spend a lifetime
becoming slaves
to our own
false truths. — Atticus Poetry

Break my heart and you will find yourself inside. — Atticus Poetry

She had wild eyes, slightly insane. She also carried an overload of compassion that was real enough and which obviously cost her something. — Charles Bukowski

THE RIGHT
POEM
FINDS
US
EXACTLY
WHEN IT
NEEDS TO.

- ATTICUS — Atticus Poetry

She was everything real in a world of make-believe. — Atticus Poetry

He smiled and kissed me.
It wasn't precisely a peck on the lips, and my wild vampiric reactions took me off guard yet again. Edward's lips were like a shot of some addictive chemical straight into my nervous system. I was instantly craving more. It took all my concentration to remember the baby in my arms.
Jasper felt my mood change. "Er, Edward, you might not want to distract her like that right now. She needs to be able to focus."
Edward pulled away. "Oops," he said.
I laughed. That had been my line from the very beginning, from the very first kiss.
"Later," I said, and anticipation curled my stomach into a ball.
"Focus, Bella," Jasper urged.
"Right." I pushed the trembly feelings away. Charlie, that was the main thing right now. Keep Charlie safe today. We would have all night ...
"Bella."
"Sorry, Jasper. — Stephenie Meyer

Ginny Cupper took me in her car out to the spread fields of Indiana. Parking near the edge of woods and walking out into the sunny rows of corn, waving seeds to a yellow horizon. She wore a white blouse and a gray patch of sweat under her arms and the shadow of her nipples was gray. We were rich. So rich we could never die. Ginny laughed and laughed, white saliva on her teeth lighting up the deep red of her mouth, fed the finest food in the world. Ginny was afraid of nothing. She was young and old. Her brown arms and legs swinging in wild optimism, beautiful in all their parts. She danced on the long hood of her crimson Cadillac, and watching her, I thought that God must be female. She leaped into my arms and knocked me to the ground and screamed into my mouth. — J.P. Donleavy

EVERYTHING
WE
LOVE
IS
WELL
ARRANGED
DUST.

- ATTICUS — Atticus Poetry

Then the woman in the bed sat up and looked about her with wild eyes; and the oldest of the old men said: 'Lady, we have come to write down the names of the immortals,' and at his words a look of great joy came into her face. Presently she, began to speak slowly, and yet eagerly, as though she knew she had but a little while to live, and, in English, with the accent of their own country; and she told them the secret names of the immortals of many lands, and of the colours, and odours, and weapons, and instruments of music and instruments of handicraft they held dearest; but most about the immortals of Ireland and of their love for the cauldron, and the whetstone, and the sword, and the spear, and the hills of the Shee, and the horns of the moon, and the Grey Wind, and the Yellow Wind, and the Black Wind, and the Red Wind. ("The Adoration of the Magi") — W.B.Yeats

She was darkness and he was darkness and there had never been anything before this time, only darkness and his lips upon her. She tried to speak and his mouth was over hers again. Suddenly she had a wild thrill such as she had never known; joy, fear, madness, excitement, surrender to arms that were too strong, lips too bruising, fate that moved too fast. — Margaret Mitchell

She was filled with a strange, wild, unfamiliar happiness, and knew that this was love. Twice in her life she had mistaken something else for it; it was like seeing somebody in the street who you think is a friend, you whistle and wave and run after him, but it is not only not the friend, but not even very like him. A few minutes later the real friend appears in view, and then you can't imagine how you ever mistook that other person for him. — Nancy Mitford

Picture yourself when you were five. in fact, dig out a photo of little you at that time and tape it to your mirror. How would you treat her, love her, feed her? How would you nurture her if you were the mother of little you? I bet you would protect her fiercely while giving her space to spread her itty-bitty wings. she'd get naps, healthy food, imagination time, and adventures into the wild. If playground bullies hurt her feelings, you'd hug her tears away and give her perspective. When tantrums or meltdowns turned her into a poltergeist, you'd demand a loving time-out in the naughty chair. From this day forward I want you to extend that same compassion to your adult self. — Kris Carr

No one had ever called her wild before. She wanted to be wild now, for him. Wild seemed more enticing then a bowl of berries. — Shannon Hale

Maybe Hayli was a Moth, but for me she was the candle. I didn't know why. I could never make sense of the way the world tipped sideways when she came into the room, or the way her smile put the sun to shame. She was just Hayli - lost but confident, unsure but dazzling. A wild-eyed girl with the joy of the stars in her veins. — J. Leigh Bralick

When it comes to love
we are primates breaking sticks
while pointing to our hearts. — Atticus Poetry

THE
HARDEST
STEP
WE ALL
MUST TAKE
IS TO BLINDLY
TRUST IN
WHO WE ARE.

- ATTICUS — Atticus Poetry

One day I'll paint the perfect sunset--
if I can only find the words. — Atticus Poetry

I took her in my arms and kissed her.
And thus in the midst of a city of wild conflict, filled with the alarms of war; with death and destruction reaping their terrible harvest around her, did Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, true daughter of Mars, the God of War, promise herself in marriage to John Carter, Gentleman of Virginia. — Edgar Rice Burroughs

Any real, beautiful thing in this world shouldn't be tamed or claimed or broken. It should be allowed to be, worked with, not against, appreciated. Don't be afraid of the wild she has left. It makes her special. — Carly Kade

You can love her with everything you have and she still wont belong to you. She will run wild with you, beside you with everystep but let me tell you something about women who run with wolves, their fierce hearts dont settle between walls and their instinct is stronger than upbringing. Love her wild or leave her there. — Nikki Rowe

She looked at him and realized that she loved him, out of nowhere, pure and simple. She loved him: this boy who fit so naturally in the water, the wild, and in everything else. She loved him: this boy who seemed to grow up out of the ground itself. There was a part of her that had known this from the first time she had seen him. This was what love was: a landslide in your heart. — Pamela Todd

Come, my darling,
it is never too late
to begin
our love again. — Atticus Poetry

She found her view stuck to him, and it was impossible for her not to melt from within. His beautiful dark brown eyes that used to send her wild as a teen, still had the same effect. His dark unruly hair she used to toy with. And his lips, pink, and in need of her kiss. She was blushing like a beacon with so many passions coming back to her. There was a doubt, that maybe he would recognise her. But now, she could see what an empty man he was. He didn't recognise her at all. — LeeAnn Whitaker

There is nothing
prettier in the
whole wide world
than a girl
in love
with every breath she takes. — Atticus Poetry

You're sure you don't need me to walk you home? I say, lifting my eyebrow and giving her my most flirtatious smile.
She refuses but blushes deeply-hot pink spreading across her cheeks. As usual, I feel a wild rush of success. I love flirting more than food. Or even fighting. And evoking a blush is one of the most satisfying results I can hope for.
I like this girl, I find myself thinking. I'm actually looking forward to her being around. — Amy Plum

Unlike those earlier occasions - mourning a lost affection of his youth - this time there is to be no imagining her altered features, her new occupations, no unknown rival or replacement upon whom to project a wild jealousy. For death takes everything, leaves behind no possibilities, save one - which is to remember. Adrian cannot believe with what intensity one can continue to love a person who is dead. Only fools, he believes, think that love is for the living alone. So he sits and watches the sea and thinks of Mamakay. — Aminatta Forna

I told myself I deserved some good luck, overlooking the fact that it would call for substantially more than luck to thrust me into one of those narratives where plain-Jane new girl catches the eye of inexplicably single Prince Charming, because somehow the new school has revealed her wild, irresistible beauty, of which she was never before aware. — Robin Wasserman

There
will always
a glimmer
in those
who have been
through the dark. — Atticus Poetry

Depression is being colorblind and constantly told how colorful the world is. — Atticus Poetry

Groaning, he gripped his fists in the wild stuff. "Contessa.God, Contessa."
She straightened, changing the angle, changing the pleasure. She shook her hair back and undulated. She was a contessa.A princess.No,a queen. — Christie Ridgway

The wind from the Caribbean blew in the windows along with the racket made by the birds, and Fermina Daza felt in her blood the wild beating of her free will. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Gradually the mist had lifted, and the sun burst forth, a ball of fire radiating the sky with unnaturally incandescent hues. Coral was reminded of the strident brushwork and wild colours of the Fauvist paintings that filled her mother's gallery, which Coral had always loved. The scene was now set for the show to begin: the drama in which the broad, breath-taking landscapes of Africa were the stage and the animals the actors. — Hannah Fielding

She used to place her pretty arms about my neck, draw me to her, and laying her cheek to mine, murmur with her lips near my ear, "Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die - die, sweetly die - into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit."
And when she had spoken such a rhapsody, she would press me more closely in her trembling embrace, and her lips in soft kisses gently glow upon my cheek.
— J. Sheridan Le Fanu

The woman was a menace. He would hate it if she were his. Only a man very strong and able to do without any malefriends could have a siren like her. She was more than a handful; she was a disaster waiting to happen.
Are you reading the human's thoughts, ma petite femme? Gregori's satisfied voice whispered in her mind. Even one such as he knows you are wild like the winds. With great reluctance he loosened his hold on her. Go inside the house.
Her eyes widened in mock surprise. You mean he might think we were making love? We would have been if he hadn't wandered out and interrupted us.
Push me further, cherie, and I may do something you will not like.
She laughed out loud, totally unafraid as she sashayed through the courtyard. As she passed Gary, she leaned over and blew warm air into his ear.
Savannah! Gregori roared her name, a distanct threat.
I'm going, I'm going, she said, completely unrepentant. — Christine Feehan

Drugs
to me
have always been
a pretty girl
with a sly smile
beckoning me
with a finger
down the dark path
of a fork in the road. — Atticus Poetry

Adventure runs on all sorts of whiskey. — Atticus Poetry

Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! Not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion! and, if not smiling, more sweetly pouting - more lovely in sullenness! Then, Jack, her neck! O, Jack, Jack! — Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Watch carefully
the magic that occurs
when you give a person
enough comfort
to just be themselves. — Atticus Poetry

I have seen your
darkest nights
and brightest days
and I want you to know
that I will be here
forever
loving you
in dusk. — Atticus Poetry

If in the moonlight from the silent bough
Suddenly with precision speak your name
The nightingale, be not assured that now
His wing is limed and his wild virtue tame.
Beauty beyond all feathers that have flown
Is free; you shall not hood her to your wrist,
Nor sting her eyes, nor have her for your own
In any fashion; beauty billed and kissed
Is not your turtle; tread her like a dove -
She loves you not; she never heard of love. — Edna St. Vincent Millay

Hey, ya'll should come home with us. Verdie has a pot roast in the oven that will melt in your mouth," Finn said.
He was as tall as Sawyer and had the bluest eyes Jill had ever seen on a man. Callie nodded at his side as she corralled four kids, and Verdie poked her head out around Finn's shoulder to say, "Yes, we'd love to have you. Got plenty of food and plenty of these wild urchins to entertain you. If that don't keep you laughing, then there's a parrot that never shuts up and a bunch of dogs."
"And a cat," a little girl said shyly. — Carolyn Brown

I visualized myself at Norma's house, stretched out on her couch, my eyes closed, and she at bthe paino playing a powerful movement from some Symphony in D major by Beethoven, by Brahms, by Sibelius, by Tschaikowsky, by anybody, by Thomas Wolfe, by Ernest Hemmingway, by William Saroyan, by Jack Kerouac, by George Apostolos, by Sebastian the Prince, by Love, by Earth, by Fire, by Water, by All, Everything, Love you and I, me myself, egotist, Earth, Fire, a mad and wild concoction of all Life, and of the all-embracing All. — Jack Kerouac

The Love of Europa: She called herself Europa. She was wild in her wandering, a drop of free water. She believed only in her life and in her dreams. She called herself Europa, and her god was Beauty. — Roman Payne

I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything. — F Scott Fitzgerald

He didn't smile. He cupped her face with both hands. An emotion tugged at his expression, a dark awe, the kind saved for a wild storm that rends the sky but doesn't ravage your existence, doesn't destroy every thing you love. The one that lets you feel saved. — Marie Rutkoski

I love even to see the domestic animals reassert their native rights - any evidence that they have not wholly lost their original wild habits and vigor; as when my neighbor's cow breaks out of her pasture early in the Spring and boldly swims the river, a cold grey tide, twenty-five or thirty rods wide, swollen by the melted snow. It is the Buffalo crossing the Mississippi. — Henry David Thoreau

She is a woman of honour and smartness whose wild leaves out luck, always taking risks, and there is something in her brow now, that only she can recognize in a mirror. Ideal and idealistic in that shiny dark hair! People fall in love with her. She is a woman I don't know well enough to hold in my wing, if writers have wings, to harbour for the rest of my life. — Michael Ondaatje

I just need you and some sunsets. — Atticus Poetry

A friend of mine liked to tell me that women love flowers. He had many flirtations, but he never found a wife. Do you know why? Because women may love flowers, but only one woman loves the scent of gardenias in late summer that remind her of her grandmother's porch. Only one woman loves apple blossoms in a blue cup. Only one woman loves wild geraniums. — Leigh Bardugo

During his sweet sleep, there was an angelic creature and in her eyes a look of joyous elation that filled Kevin's mind with anticipation of her possible existence in the real world. This freckle-faced vision with her wild mane of untamed blonde curls nightly left an unexplainable ache in his soul. In his dreams, she would appear to him as a mirage of hope. He could feel the love in her heart, for it seeped through her very essence into the air between them. She lay next to him in the grass as they quietly observed the sky above. Her hand seemed to be always just out of his reach. Kevin wanted to hold her hand so badly it was torturous. Her hand was just about touching his but not quite. Then her fingers brushed a path across his fingertips as if to say in the exquisite beauty of the moment, I will always be right here. — Kim Cormack

The prettiest girls shine brightest in the dark. — Atticus Poetry

They cannot indulge in any detailed or merely logical defense of life; that would delay the enjoyment of it. These higher optimists, of whom Dickens was one, do not approve of the universe; they do not even admire the universe; they fall in love with it. They embrace life too close to criticize or even to see it. Existence to such men has the wild beauty of a woman, and those love her with most intensity who love her with least cause. — G.K. Chesterton

In a wild leap that made her feel as though she'd left her body, she thought, It doesn't really matter who you settle on to love, finally, providing you both deserve it. — Patricia Henley

Our
songs
live
longer
than
our
kingdoms. — Atticus Poetry

She wore the moonlight like lingerie. — Atticus Poetry

LOVE
COULD
BE
LABLED
POISON
AND WE'D
DRINK
IT
ANYWAYS. — Atticus Poetry

Her love is rare but she'll keep you wild. — Nikki Rowe

Put a girl in
moonlight
and tell only truths
and every man
becomes a poet. — Atticus Poetry

AGE DIFFERENCE
What if I told you that one day you will meet a girl who is unlike anyone else you've known. She will know all the right things to say, what makes you laugh, what turns you on, what drives you wild and best of all, you will do for her exactly what she does for you.
"When will I meet her?"
Well let's put it this way, she doesn't even exist yet. — Lang Leav

Shall I tell you the secret of true love? her father once asked her. A friend of mine liked to tell me that women love flowers. He had many flirtations, but he never found a wife. Do you know why? Because women may love flowers, but only one woman loves the scent of gardenias in late summer that remind her of her grandmother's porch. Only one woman loves apple blossoms in a blue cup. Only one woman loves wild geraniums. That's Mama! Inej had cried. Yes, Mama loves wild geraniums because no other flower has quite the same color, and she claims that when she snaps the stem and puts a sprig behind her ear, the whole world smells like summer. Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart. That — Leigh Bardugo

It was her chaos that made her beautiful. — Atticus Poetry

She's wild, unpredictable and dangerous as hell. Not just to my sanity, but to my health. She's the kind of girl you know you'll want forever with and forever will still not be enough. But she's not the type of girl to give forever to you willingly. I'm pretty sure you'd have to drag it out of her kicking and screaming. - Dominic Delaney -Damaged — Nina D'Angelo

The look the Shepherd turned on her was very beautiful. "Nothing my Father and I have made is ever wasted," he said quietly, "and the little wild flowers have a wonderful lesson to teach. They offer themselves so sweetly and confidently and willingly, even if it seems that there is no one to appreciate them. Just as though they sang a joyous little song to themselves, that it is so happy to love, even though one is not loved in return. — Hannah Hurnard

When the strong healthy boy, howling at the indignity of the birth process, was put to her breast, she felt a wild tenderness for him, The other baby, Francis, in the crib next her bed, began to whimper. Katie had a flash of contempt for the weak child she had borne a year ago, when she compared her to this new handsome son. She was quickly ashamed of hr contempt. She knew it wasn't the little girl's fault. "I must watch myself carefully," she thought. "I am going to love this boy more than the girl but I mustn't ever let her know. It is wrong to love one child more than the other but this is something that I cannot help. — Betty Smith

Her ravings were so crowded with recriminations and insults and petitions, with weeping and caterwauling and wild expressions of love, that it seemed bewildering to Bob and Charley that Jesse remained there for minutes, let alone hours; yet he did. She was four inches taller than Jesse, a giant of a woman, but she made him seem even smaller, made him seem stooped and spiritless. She made him kiss her on the mouth like a lover and rub her neck and temples with myrtleberry oil as he avowed his affection for her and confessed his frailties and shortcomings. — Ron Hansen

Nature has not changed. The night is still unsullied, the stars still twinkle, and the wild thyme smells as sweetly now as it did then ... We may be afflicted and unhappy, but no one can take from us the sweet delight which is nature's gift to those who love her and her poetry. — George Sand

A sky
full
of stars
and he
was staring
at her.

- ATTICUS — Atticus Poetry

She walked
through her life
heavy
from the
mighty wings
upon her back. — Atticus Poetry

Brushing a girl's hair
behind her ear
once a day
will solve more problems
than all those
therapists
and drugs. — Atticus Poetry

The beautiful thing
about young love
is the truth
in our hearts
that it will last forever. — Atticus Poetry

For a wild child born into a rigid community, the usual outcome is to experience the ignominy of being shunned. Shunning treats the victim as if she does not exist. It withdraws spiritual concern, love, and other psychic necessities from that person. The idea is to force her to conform, or else kill her spirituality and/or to drive her from the village to languish and die in the outback — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Don't ask her to be a rock
for you to lean upon
instead, build her wings
and point her to the sky
and she will teach you both to fly. — Atticus Poetry

True art
comes
from flying
with the madness
so close
you burn
your eyelashes. — Atticus Poetry

That was her magic -
she could still see
the sunset
even on those
darkest days. — Atticus Poetry

Don't worry -
you see,
to some you are magic. — Atticus Poetry

If you'd only met her in Gotham, for instance, I should have had a song all ready for you. When you came in, I was just perfecting a little song about a wild woman of Gotham, who made love to young men and then shot 'em - till — Leslie Charteris

Words
will
scratch
more
hearts
than
swords. — Atticus Poetry

I WANT TO BE WITH SOMEONE WHO DREAMS OF DOING EVERYTHING IN LIFE
AND NOTHING ON RAINY SUNDAY AFTERNOONS. — Atticus Poetry

Songs live longer than kingdoms. — Atticus Poetry

You will live to love again. You know you have lost your springtime girl, your Molly on the beach with the wind in her brown hair and red cloak. You have been gone too long from her, and too much has befallen you both. And what you loved, what both of you truly loved, was not each other. It was the time of your life. It was the spring of your years, and life running strong in you, and war on your doorstep and your strong, perfect bodies. Look back, in truth. You will find you recall fully as many quarrels and tears as you do lovemaking and kisses. Fitz. Be wise. Let her go, and keep those memories intact. Save what you can of her, and let her keep what she can of the wild and daring boy she loved. Because both he and that merry little miss are no more than memories anymore." She shook her head. "No more than memories. — Robin Hobb

He could have spent the whole night watching her red lips form the words to the songs. Those lips-they were as bright as the red maple trees that glowed this time of year. Her blue eyes danced with each fast song, a wild swirl of crisp leaves in the autumn wind.

That was how she haunted his heart. Every season, every corner of Gott's good land, he saw Annie there. — Rosalind Lauer

She'd always thought she was sensible about romance: she hadn't ever wanted any sort of wild destructive passion that would interfere with college applications. She had thought love would change the story she told about herself too much, that love would make her story less smart or less meaningful. — Sarah Rees Brennan

And the stars blinked
as they watched her carefully
jealous of the way she shone. — Atticus Poetry

Love her but leave her wild — Atticus Poetry

Arbitrary distinctions ... have always been the instruments of arbitrary power, the means of lulling and ensnaring men into their own servitude. For whenever we leave principles and clear positive laws, and wander after constructions, one construction or consequence is piled upon another until we get an immense distance from fact and truth and nature, lost in the wild regions of imagination and possibility, where arbitrary power sits upon her brazen throne and governs with an iron sceptre.' -said by John Adams, in Those Who Love, p. 166 — Irving Stone

September tried to show her sternness. It was becoming a habit. She could show her sternness and think about this another time, when it was quiet and no new red Moon turned somersaults in the sky.
But when she reached for her sternness, all September found in her heart was the bar of a trapeze, swinging wild, inviting her to catch it.
... She leaned up and kissed her Marid and hoped it was the right thing. Her heart caught the bar and swung out, swung wild, over the lights and the gasps below, reaching for a pair of sure blue hands in the air and willing them to find hers. — Catherynne M Valente

She returned to him, pressed his cheeks in her hands. "My eccentric old man, thinking you could fly."
"This time, only my words will fly," he said solemnly. They both cracked up. Almost twenty years together and if blazing heat had turned to warmth, humor, it was less wild but easier to sustain. — Lauren Groff

Art takes time -
Monet grew his gardens
before he painted them. — Atticus Poetry

She conquered her demons and wore her scars like wings. — Atticus Poetry

We grew in age - and love - together
Roaming the forest, and the wild;
My breast her shield in wintry weather -
And, when the friendly sunshine smil'd,
And she would mark the opening skies,
I saw no Heaven - but in her eyes. — Edgar Allan Poe

To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Tessa rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. For so many years she had wondered what her first kiss would be like-if he would be handsome, if he would love her, if he would be kind. She had never imagined that the kiss would be so brief and wild. Or that it would taste of holy water and blood. — Cassandra Clare

Princesa came to rancho one day after her owner no want her. Says too much horse for him, too wild. But he's wrong. She's not wild, she's spirited. 'Wild' means 'I no care about what I do.' But 'spirited' means, 'I love what I do.' Big difference. — Stacey Lee

My mom believed that you make your own luck. Over the stove she had hung these old, maroon painted letters that spell out, "MANIFEST." The idea being if you thought and dreamed about the way you wanted your life to be
if you just envisioned it long enough, it would come into being.
But as hard as I had manifested Astrid Heyman with her hand in mine, her blue eyes gazing into mine, her lips whispering something wild and funny and outrageous in my ear, she had remained totally unaware of my existence. Truly, to even dream of dreaming about Astrid, for a guy like me, in my relatively low position on the social ladder of Cheyenne Mountain High, was idiotic. And with her a senior and me a junior? Forget it.
Astrid was just lit up with beauty: shining blonde ringlets, June sky blue eyes, slightly furrowed brow, always biting back a smile, champion diver on the swim team. Olympic level.
Hell, Astrid was Olympic level in every possible way. — Emmy Laybourne