Quotes & Sayings About Not Having Someone There For You

As long as you're not in love with the man, then why feel guilty because you're having fun? Besides, I've been thinking...
if you did fall in love with someone else there would be pretty little I could do." He suddenly chuckled, "except for ripping your guts out, cutting your balls off and stuffing them down your throat, of course."
(Dan) — Aleksandr Voinov

There's a huge difference in sex and making love. We have sex with someone who can satisfy us physically, but we make love to someone who can satisfy us soulfully and eternally. Once you realize the fine-line between making love and having sex, you will understand the meaning of life! Life isn't only about survival, it's about living and so is making love. We have sex to satisfy our lust and hunger, which is nothing, but survival, but we make love to feed our soul and our mind, to fill a void that is there since a long time, that longs for a partner and that needs someone whom we want to spend the next morning with!
When you have sex just for physical pleasure, you are ashamed and guilty at one point of life or another, but when you make love to someone who means everything to you, you are always proud of it. Never in life, not even a single time, you regret that time and the moments spent with that person. You will always rejoice it and remember it with equal passion and joy. — Mehek Bassi

For me, it's not important whether [subjects] are naked, half-naked, or dressed. What I'm more interested in is how they present themselves: if someone is half-naked and having self-confidence or you have the feeling that she has or he has control of the situation. She likes to do it. Then I have nothing against it. But it's true that society doesn't talk about such issues. They just talk about whether there is a breast or not, but for me it's more interesting how the power game of camera and object is shown. And if it's a cool picture. — Pipilotti Rist

In the context of the autism world (and my outlook in general) this is were I stand equality is for everyone, everybody in the world - I look at both sides of the the coin and take into account peoples realities (that makes me neutral/moderate/in the middle).
That means that you look in a more three dimensional perspective of peoples diverse realities you cannot speak for all but one can learn from EACH OTHER through listening and experiencing.
I also try my best to live with the good cards I was given not over-investing in my autism being the defining factor of my being (but having a healthy acknowledgement of it) that it's there but also thinking about other qualities I have such as being a writer, poet and artist.
I do have disability, I do have autism and I have a "mild" learning disability that is true but I a human being first and foremost. And for someone to be seen as person equal to everyone else is a basic human right. — Paul Isaacs

You are all talking a bit too much, said Armando, who had cautioned them from the beginning to stay out of popular culture and in their own interior worlds.
When you are caught up in the world that you did not design as support for your life and the life of earth and people, it is like being caught in someone else's dream or nightmare. Many people exist in their lives in this way. I say exist because it is not really living. It is akin to being suspended in a dream one is having at night, a dream over which one has no control. You are going here and there, seeing this and that person; you do not know or care about them usually, they are just there, on your interior screen. Humankind will not survive if we continue in this way, most of us living lives in which our own life is not the center. — Alice Walker

If you care so much about it," she asks him, "then why did you run?"
He takes a moment before answering, shifting his weight and grimacing again. "Their work is good," he says. "It just isn't mine."
This baffles her. His motives - his hazy integrity. It was easy to dismiss Lev as "part of the problem" when she did not know him, but now it's not so easy. He's a paradox. This is a boy who almost blew himself to bits in an attempt to kill others, and yet he offered himself to the parts pirate in order to save Miracolina's life. How could someone go from having no respect for one's own existence to being willing to give himself as a sacrifice for someone he barely knows? It flies in the face of the truths that have defined Miracolina's life. The bad are bad, the good are good, and being caught in between is just an illusion. There is no gray. — Neal Shusterman

I try to shape a tight laugh, and it dies in my throat. "This is new to me, Wes. Sharing. Having someone I can share with. And I really appreciate your help
That sounds lame. I've never had someone like ... This is a mess. There's finally something good in my life and I'm already making a mess of it." My cheeks go hot, and I have to clench my teeth to stop the rambling.
"Hey," he says, knocking his shoe playfully against mine. "It's the same for me, you know?" This is all new to me. And I'm not going anywhere. It takes at least three assassination attempts to scare me off. And even then, if there are baked goods involved, I might come back." He hoists himself up from the bench. "But on that note, I retreat to tend my wounded pride." He says it with a smile, and somehow I'm smiling, too. How does he do that, untangle things so easily? — Victoria Schwab

Random stuff starts popping into my head, like the time Bas and I were having a discussion at the train station in Denmark over whether it was okay to order a Danish or not.

Gideon, it is rude. You'd never order an American, would you? Or an Australian?

If someone asked me for an American I'd say, "You got one right in front of you."

You're missing the point. They're asking because they're looking for food.

I'm pretty sure I taste amazing.

Okay. I dare you. Walk up to those girls over there and ask if they're hungry for an American.

I would've done it to make him laugh. But at that point I was already thinking about Daryn all the time. She was the only girl I would've allowed to cannibalize me. — Veronica Rossi

All that summer, as I end up in his flat over and over, drinking his wine, having his bad pervy sex, and then lying on the bed, talking about Auden's influence on Morrissey, I feel like we're in a huge, ongoing surreal session of the Post-it Game, in which Rich has stuck a Post-it on my head on which is written either "My girlfriend" or "Not my girlfriend," and I am having to guess which it is with a series of questions that he can only answer yes or no. This whole situation seems like a massive societal problem. Why have we not yet discovered a way to find out if someone's in love with you? Why can't I press a litmus paper to Tony's sweaty brow, when we're fucking, and see if it turns pink for love - or blue for casual fuck? Why is there no information on this? Why has science not attended to this matter? — Caitlin Moran

That having sex with someone you do not care for feels lonelier than not having sex in the first place, afterward.
That it is permissible to want.
That everybody is identical in their secret unspoken belief that way deep down they are different from everyone else. That this isn't necessarily perverse.
That there might not be angels, but there are people who might as well be angels.
That God - unless you're Charlton Heston, or unhinged, or both - speaks and acts entirely through the vehicle of human beings, if there is a God.
That God might regard the issue of whether you believe there's a God or not as fairly low on his/her/its list of things s/he/it's interested in re you. — David Foster Wallace

Will there be enough to go around, or must we compete for our kills?"
"Unfortunately, I suspect there will be plenty, but that really depends on how many of you are willing to come." And that's when I lost track of who was speaking. They called out from everywhere, having apparently forgotten I was even there.
"All of us!"
"We will all go ... "
"It's only far ... "
"Someone must stay with the children ... "
"Someone must stay to hunt ... "
"Then we'll draw quills. Feathers into the pile! The twenty drawn will go and fight!"
"Wait!" I had to shout to be heard. "Don't you want the details?"
Kai frowned, one of the few birds paying me any attention. "No. We want the fight, and the feast."
"No! I said there will be no feasting! It's a war, not a f***ing dinner banquet!" I threw up my hands in exasperation.
Mentioning war to a Flight of thunderbirds was evidently like dangling candy in front of a class full of children! Ruthless, deadly children ... — Rachel Vincent

They drove back to her house in silence. Terrance pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the engine. Turning toward her, he said, "Khadejah, I really like you a lot and I don't want to hurt you. But I'm not a virgin and I like to have sex. If we're going to keep seeing each other, you've got to make a decision, because if I can't get it from you I'll get it from someone else." He looked her straight in her tear-filled eyes. "I need to know whether to get a room for after the concert. Let me know tomorrow." He reached over and opened her door.
Khadejah didn't say a word. She got out of the car and went into the house.
Terrance sat there for a few minutes wondering if he was being fair. She had to know that he was having sex. Damn, I should feel honored that she's still a virgin, he thought. Shit, I'll just have my cake and eat it, too.
Ten minutes later, Terrance was knocking on Adrienne's door. "Hey, can I come in? — Tracy L. Darity

Love is like air, babe. It's there all the time, and you don't even think about it,or you take it for granted. Then all of a sudden, you need it, or you can't breathe. You inhale, and for the first time you're aware it's keeping you alive. You feel it brush your skin all the time. Sometimes it's warm and other times it's cool, but it's there surrounding you, feeding you, holding you. When you finally realize it's love, you become vulnerable. With that new fear of not having air, you subconsciously allow someone special to breathe life for you. — Debra Kayn

The Telephone

When I was just as far as I could walk
From here today
There was an hour
All still
When leaning with my head against a flower
I heard you talk.
Don't say I didn't for I heard you say
You spoke from that flower on the window sill-
Do you remember what it was you said '

'First tell me what it was you thought you heard.'

'Having found the flower and driven a bee away
I leaned my head
And holding by the stalk
I listened and I thought I caught the word
What was it
Did you call me by my name
Or did you say
Someone said "Come"
I heard it as I bowed.'

'I may have thought as much but not aloud.'

Well so I came. — Robert Frost

When we were doing interviews for our bio, I described hearing that song for the first time to be like Sara was standing on my chest. I just felt really sad, and that was having heard all the other songs in order leading up to that one. I know that when Sara was writing these songs it was during the end of her relationship and it was someone she'd been friends with for almost ten years and been with for four years. It was just the psyche of it, when you've known someone for half your life, literally, and then have to leave them, and not necessarily because you want to but just because it's the right thing to do, and it's just not healthy and you're not good anymore, there's no growth and you have to have growth. And when I hear that song, the idea of that all happening just makes me sick to my stomach a little bit. But it's in an enjoyable way. — Tegan Quin

The truth is, Sidonie, I don't fare well with women." He spoke coolly, and without looking at her. "It is my own fault, of course. I ... I neglect them. I forget where I'm supposed to be, and when I'm supposed to be there. I'm irresponsible. I drink to excess, gamble to excess, and sometimes I brawl. I never remember special occasions. And I very often go to sleep before they've ... well, never mind that." Devellyn fell silent for a moment. "And I cheat on them," he quietly added. "Dreadfully. Did I mention that?"
"You did not," she answered. "But a full disclosure of one's fidelity, or even one's skill in the bedroom, is not, strictly speaking, necessary before having dinner with someone."
Devellyn smiled down at her a little wearily. "Ah, Sid, I have no charm at all, have I?" he said almost regretfully. — Liz Carlyle

As long as you are forced to be a woman first instead of a person, by default, you need to be a feminist. That's it. Men are people, women are women? Screw that. Screw that. I am sick of having words aimed to shut me up. I am sick of having to be anything other than a person first. Zounds! I enjoy being a girl, whatever that means. For me, that meant Star Wars figurines, mounds of books, skirts and flats. It meant Civil War reenacting and best girlfriends I'd give a kidney to and best guy friends I'd ruin a liver with and making messes and cleaning up some of them and still not knowing how to apply eye shadow. That's being a girl. That's being a person. It's the same damn thing. I wish Rush had just called me an idiot. I'm happy to be called an idiot! On the day when someone on the Internet calls me an idiot first and ugly second, I will set down my feminist battle flag and heave a great sigh. Then I will pick it back up and keep climbing. There are many more mountains to overcome. — Alexandra Petri

My conflicts of conscience are about the only battles I'm fighting these days, and I'm willing to fight until the end. There is something freeing
about this life, about living out of a single backpack and disappearing into the night. About smelling terrible and never remembering people's names. About never having to say you're sorry. We exist outside of society. We stay up late and sleep even later. We
are bandits, pirates, serial killers. The dregs. Someone should lock us up and never let us out again. But instead, they give us their money, they offer us their beds. We are not
going to pay for the beer. We are not going to be back here for a good, long while. We have prior engagements. We have the money in a duffel bag. We have no shame. Fuck guilt. Back to life. — Pete Wentz

You cannot simply take a mala from someone else and start using it. When you buy a mala you have to make sure that it accords with the advice we have just discussed, and then before you use a mala - whether it is old or new - you should bless it. How do we bless the mala? There are different methods for blessing a mala, and some are more elaborate than others. In Buddhism there are two types of conduct: elaborate and simple. Elaborate conduct, for example, involves having many thangkas, statues, and lots of offerings, such as flowers and so forth. However, Buddhism is also very practical, and so there are more simple forms of practice where you utilize visualization. However, you should not use unelaborated versions of practice simply out of laziness. Making offerings are an important part of practice since these actions accumulate merit, and it is merit that brings about our happiness. People often refer to luck and fortune, but really — Zurmang Gharwang Rinpoche

... your midthirties...is the age that women usually start to feel confident. Having finally left behind the...awfulness of your twenties...your thirties are the point where the good stuff kicks in...How odd, then, that as your face and body finally begin to display the signs (lines, softening, gray hairs) that you've entered the zone of kick-ass eminence and intolerance of dullards, there should be pressure for you to...totally remove them. Give the impression that, actually, you are still a bit gullible and incompetent, and totally open to being screwed over by someone a bit cleverer and older than you... Lines and grayness are nature's way of telling you not to fuck with someone--the equivalent of the yellow-and-black banding on a wasp...Lines are your weapons against the idiots. Lines are your 'KEEP AWAY FROM THE WISE INTOLERANT WOMAN' sign. — Caitlin Moran

The medal recipients, sixty-two in al, were summoned to the dais. Like many of the other men, Christopher was dressed in private clothes, having left the ranks at the conclusion of the war. Unlike the other men, Christopher was holding a leash. Attached to a dog. For reasons that had not been explained, he had been told to bring Albert to the presentation. The other Rifles whispered encouragements as Albert walked obediently beside Christopher.
"There's a good boy!"
"Look smart, fellow!"
"No accidents in front of the queen!"
"And all that goes for you too, Albert," someone added, causing the lot of them to snicker.
Giving his friends a damning glance, which only amused them further, Christopher took Albert to meet the queen. — Lisa Kleypas

Well, friends, learning about the "world" is not pretending you're a hooker while a guy from the part of New Jersey that's near Pennsylvania decides which Steely Dan record to put on at 4:00 A.M. The secrets of life aren't being revealed when someone laughs at you for having studied creative writing. There is no enlightenment to be gained from letting your semiboyfriend's bald friend touch your thigh too close to the place where it meets your crotch, but you let it happen because you think you might be in love. — Lena Dunham

I don't like my voice that much. I think I'm a much better actress than singer. Singing is like going to a party at someone else's house. Acting is like having the party at your own house. When you go to someone else's house for a party, it's not your responsibility at all, but when you have the party at your own house, there's a lot of responsibility. Everyone has to have a good time. So for me, acting is deeper. — Cher

She set her hands neatly in her lap. "But you just said he liked you."
"No, I said he enjoys my company. That is, he enjoys hating me. Or pretending to hate me. I don't know which.
But I'm finding it difficult to completely dislike someone who gets pleasure from having me around ... "So he likes being mean to you," she said. "And you like that he likes being mean to you."
"And I like being mean to him, too, don't forget."
"Of course not. Pleasure from meanness. There's a name for it: sadomasochism. — Kristin Walker

He inhaled sharply. "I'm glad to have you back."

I nodded, swallowing thickly. "I'm glad to be back."

"Hell, we all can agree on that." Luke picked up a donut. "There's nothing creepier than having a psychotic Apollyon caged in the basement."

"Ha," I said.

Luke winked and then tossed the donut to me. I caught it. Sugar flew everywhere.

"Or waiting for her to break loose and run amuck," Deacon added as I took a bite. He glanced across the table. "Or waiting for someone, no names mentioned, to not listen to us and go say hi."

Olivia's cheeks reddened as she stood. She approached slowly, waited for me to finish chewing. I started to apologize. "I'm really sorry - "

She socked me in the stomach. Hard. I doubled over, gasping for air. "Gods. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

True friendship is not about what others can bring to you. It is not about having someone there for you when you need them. It is about what you can give to them and longing to be with them when they find themselves in need, all of which is repaid to you with the fulfillment of the promise that you will never be alone. — Steve Marchand

Ean seems like the 'not here to make friends' type, but I don't think anyone could go through this without getting close to someone. It's too hard. As difficult as it is for me, I know it's just as bad for you all."

"We definitely get the better end of the deal though," he said, winking at my reflection.

I tilted my head. "I don't know about that. The more I think about it, the sadder I get about having to send all but one of you away. I'll miss having you here."

"Have you considered a harem?" he said, deadpan.

I bent over in laughter and was rewarded with a pin stabbing my waist. "Ow!"

"Sorry! I shouldn't joke when there are needles around. — Kiera Cass

When you're washing up, pray. Be thankful that there are plates to be washed; that means there was food, that you fed someone, that you're lavished care on one or more people, that you cooked and laid the table. ...
There are women who say: "I'm not going to do the washing up let the men do it." Fine, let the men do it if they want to, but that has nothing to do with equality ... I'd be accused of working against the feminist cause. Nonsense! As if washing up or wearing a bra or having someone open or close a door could be humiliating to me as a woman. The fact is, I love it when a man opens the door for me. ... in my soul is written: "I'm being treated like a goddess. I'm a queen. — Paulo Coelho

I don't really like this song," Emma had said.
"You told me it was your favourite."
"It's beautiful. But it always makes me sad."
"Why, love?" he'd asked gently. "It's about finding each other again. About someone coming home."
Emma had lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him earnestly. "It's about losing someone, and having to wait until you're together in heaven."
"There's nothing in the lyrics about heaven," he'd said.
"But that's what it means. I can't bear the idea of being separated from you, for a lifetime or a year or even a day. So you mustn't go to heaven without me."
"Of course not," he had whispered. "It wouldn't be heaven without you. — Lisa Kleypas

When we think of the masterpieces that nobody praised and nobody read, back there in the past, we feel an impatient superiority to the readers of the past. If we had been there, we can't help feeling, we'd have known that Moby-Dick was a good book - -why, how could anyone help knowing?
But suppose someone says to us, "Well, you're here now: what's our own Moby-Dick? What's the book that, a hundred years from now, everybody will look down on us for not having liked?" What do we say then? — Randall Jarrell