Re Patch Quotes & Sayings

How does this whole guardian angel business work? Am I the only person who can see you? I mean, are you invisible to everyone else?" Patch stared at me like he hoped I wasn't serious.

"You're not invisible?" I squeaked. "You have to get out of here!" I made a movement to push Patch off the bed but was cut short by a searing jab in my ribs. "She'll kill me if she finds you in here. Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree!"

Patch grinned. "I can fly."

Oh. Right. Well, okay. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Stop crying. You're giving archangels everywhere a bad name. — Becca Fitzpatrick

What are you thinking, Amos?" "Nothing real subtle. Figure we hop outside, kill a few assholes that need killing, patch stuff up when we're done with the first part." Naomi — James S.A. Corey

When we're going through a rough patch, if we stay centered and stay out of fear, we can come out the other side wiser, stronger and better. — Joan Pillen

I see children as kites. You spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground. You run with them until you're both breathless. They crash ... you add a longer tail ... you patch and comfort, adjust and teach. You watch them lifted by the wind and assure them that someday they'll fly. — Erma Bombeck

Sour Patch, Swedish Fish. I love candy, man. I can't go without candy. And when I'm recording, I always have a TV on with cartoons - on mute, though. When I'm recording, I like to look at the TV now and then and see some crazy, wacky stuff. When you're thinking creative, it just keeps you creative. Everybody got their way of making music. — Tyga

It is inexcusable that the richest country in the world does not take care of all of its people. We don't consider ourselves idealistic; we're thoughtfully trying to make a beautiful health care model. — Patch Adams

Destiny strips at the Melon Patch. They're people Ted, try to keep 'em straight. — Barney Stinson

When the light faded, Vince strolled down to the falls. Heavy mist made the spotlights appear especially cool. He got himself a sausage on a bun, with lots of mustard and fried onions, and settled on a patch of damp grass to watch the standard Friday night fireworks. He never tires of the fascinating colours and patterns. They're impossible to reproduce on canvas. He couldn't resist making his usual wishes on them.

He wished he had someone special with him.

Maybe there's some girl on the planet who would like to hear that gold fireworks contain actual gold, he thought while watching a nearby couple laugh. Wouldn't it be great to be able to share that? — Jess Molly Brown

I support Dolly Sisters, sir. Always have done."
"And are they any good?"
"Having a poor patch at the moment, sir."
"Ah, then I expect you will want to support our team, which will be very good indeed!"
"Can't do that, sir. You've got to support your team, sir."
"but you just said that they weren't doing well."
"That's when you support your team, sir. Otherwise you're a numper."
"A numper being ... ?" said Ridcully.
"He's someone who's all cheering when things are going well, and then runs off to another team when there's a losing streak. They always shouts the loudest. — Terry Pratchett

Hmm?' I looked away, flustered automatically using irritation to cover my discomfort up. 'What does 'hmm' have to do with anything? Could you ever use more that five words? All this grunting and minced words make you come across
primal.'
His smile tipped higher. 'Primal.'
'You're impossible.'
'Me Jev, you Nora.'
-Nora & Patch (PG 226) — Becca Fitzpatrick

I see the eight of us in the Annexe as if we were a patch of blue sky surrounded by menacing black clouds. The perfectly round spot on which we're standing is still safe, but the clouds are moving in on us, and the ring between us and the approaching danger is being pulled tighter and tighter. We're surrounded by darkness and danger, and in our desperate search for a way out we keep bumping into each other. We look at the fighting down below and the peace and beauty up above. In the meantime, we've been cut off by the dark mass of clouds, so that we can go neither up nor down. It looms before us like an impenetrable wall, trying to crush us, but not yet able to. I can only cry out and implore, 'Oh, ring, ring, open wide and let us out!' Yours, Anne — Anne Frank

You're a liar!"
He turned around, his black eyes snapping. "I'm also a thief, a gambler, a cheat, and a murdered. But this happens to be one of the rare times when I'm telling the truth. Go home. Consider yourself lucky. You've got a chance to start fresh. Not everyone can say the same. — Becca Fitzpatrick

What does 'hmm' have to do with anything? Could you ever use more than five words? All this grunting and minced words make you come across - primal."

His smile tipped higher. "Primal."

"You're impossible."

"Me Jev, you Nora. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Climbing hills was never one of my great ambitions. Perhaps I was just lazy, but I admit
now that I've been climbing a hill every other day
that it's very difficult to think about the stresses in your life while you're trying to avoid falling backwards when a goat with large horns is chasing you because you came too close to the little patch of grass he was planning to eat for breakfast. — Gene Wilder

Jon Snow, is this a proper castle now? Not just a tower?"
"It is." Jon took her hand.
"Good," she whispered. "I wanted t' see one proper castle, before ... before I ... "
"You'll see hundred castles. The battle's done. Maester Aemon will see to you. You're kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we'll get milk of the poppy for the pain."
She just smiled at that. "D'you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so."
"We'll go back to the cave," he said." You're not going to die, Ygritte. You're not."
"Oh." Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she sighed, dying. — George R R Martin

This isn't your fight, Patch," I said quietly.
His eyes burned with an intensity I'd never seen before. "You're mine, Angel, and don't you forget it. Your fights are my fights. What if something had happened today? It was bad enough when I thought your ghost was haunting me; I don't think I could handle the real thing. — Becca Fitzpatrick

If we're doing this for ten hours, I'm going to need a little incentive to stay motivated."
Patch hooked his elbow around my neck and dragged me into a kiss. "Every time you strip my sword, I owe you a kiss. How's that sound?"
I bit my lip to keep from giggling. "That sounds really dirty."
Patch waggled his eyebrows. "Look whose mind just rolled into the gutter. Two kisses per strip. Any objections?"
I pulled on an innocent face. "None whatsoever. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Well, we're trying to patch and fix and put a cast on a broken system here. You can call it what you want, but we'll continue to purchase power in a private market. — Gray Davis

You're a guardian angel now." I was still too much in awe to wrap my mind around it, but at the same time I felt amazement, curiosity ... happiness.
"I'm your guardian angel," he said.
"I get my very own guardian angel? What, exactly, is your job description?"
"Guard your body." His smile tipped higher. "I take my job seriously, which means I'm going to need to get acquainted with the subject matter on a personal level. — Becca Fitzpatrick

He shrugged, and for a second they stood there, sizing each other up, the moment stretching, the gaze growing uncomfortable until his gray eyes finally broke free, escaping to the ground. Kate smiled, victorious. She gestured to the patch of pavement, the border of grass. "What brings you to my office?"
He looked around, confused, as if he'd actually intruded. Then he looked up and said, "The view."
Kate flashed a crooked grin. "Oh really?"
His face went red. "I didn't mean you," he said quickly. "I was talking about the trees."
"Wow," she said dryly. "Thanks. How am I supposed to compete with pine and oak?"
"I don't know," said Freddie, cocking his head. Stray dog again. "They're pretty great. — Victoria Schwab

Coach: "All right, Patch. let's say you're at a party. the room is full of girls of all shapes and sizes. You see blondes, brunettes, redheads, a few girl with black hair. Some are talkive, while other appear shy. You've one girl who fits your profile - attractive, intelligent and vulnerable. Dow do you let her know you're interested?"
Patch: "Single her out. Talk to her."
Coach: "Good. Now for the big question - how do you know if she's game or if she wants you to move on?"
Patch: "I study her. I figure out what she's thinking and feeling. She's not gonig to come right out and tell me, which is why i have to pay attention. Does she turn her body toward mine? Does she hold me eyes, then look away? Does she bite her lip and play with her hair, the way Nora is doing right now? — Becca Fitzpatrick

You're impinging on my private space," I said, inching backward.
Patch gave a barely-there smile. "Impinging? This isn't the SAT, Nora. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Madness will push you anywhere it wants. It never tells you where you're going, or why. It tells you it doesn't matter. It persuades you. It dangles something sparkly before you, shimmering like that water patch on the road up ahead. You will drive until you find it, the treasure, the thing you most desire.
You will never find it. Madness may mock you so long you will die of the search. Or it will tire of you, turn its back, oblivious as you go flying. The car is beside you, smoking, belly-up, still spinning its wheels. — Marya Hornbacher

I'm telling you this because I want you to know that I know something about you isn't right. You haven't fooled everybody. I'm going to find out what you're up to. I'm going to expose you."
"Looking forward to it. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Early Apple machines
don't know how to answer what it was like since there were so few tools. Just had to keep debugging by isolating a problem, looking at memory in the limited debugging (weaker than the DOS DEBUG and no symbols) patch and retry and then re-program, download and try again. And again ... — Bob Frankston

The definition of a true friend is not someone who swoops in when you're going through a rough patch. True friendship is when someone can appreciate your happiness - celebrate your happiness, even when she's not necessarily happy herself. — Sarah Jio

I had fun last night," I told Patch, flicking off my chin strap and handing over my helmet. "I'm officially in love with your sheets."
"That the only thing you're in love with?"
"Nope. Your mattress, too."
Some smile crept into Patch's eyes. "My bed's an open invitation. — Becca Fitzpatrick

For what its worth, you're good for him," he said.
Healther looked up at him, surprised.
Von's green gaze held hers. "Family," he said. "It all comes down to who has your back when your tires are running down a strange road & who'll stop to help you patch a flat when that road turns nasty. Family". p. 254 — Adrian Phoenix

You've got to know what you want. This is central to acting on your intentions. When you know what you want, you realize that all there is left then is time management. You'll manage your time to achieve your goals because you clearly know what you're trying to achieve in your life. — Patch Adams

I want you, Anastasia," he murmurs. "I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It's very new. I need to know that we're okay. It's the only way I know how."
"My feelings for you haven't changed," I whisper.
His proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull is there, all my synapses goading me toward him, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at the patch of hair in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless, driven by desire - I want to taste him there.
He's so close, but he doesn't touch me. His heat is warming my skin.
"I'm not going to touch you until you say yes," he says softly. "But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us. — E.L. James

I patch together a living language out of reanimated parts, like Frankenstein, and feel no disgust at scrabbling in the charnel house. Each of us makes her own monster, who earns a cozy co-tenancy of our tomb. We're all the last native speakers of a language that dies with us. Am I so special for tasting the rot on my tongue? For knowing whose remains I'm kitted out in? — Shelley Jackson

Now I was the only one left. I thought about what I was going to say: Oh, hi there, I'm Thom. I just want to say what an honor it is to be a part of this prestigious team. A leader that wants to kick my ass, some bitchy girl with a major attitude problem, a geriatric precog, a guy who should probably be quarantined at the Center for Disease Control, and me, just your average, ordinary, gay teen superhero. Surely we're what the founding members had in mind when they banded together to form the world's premier superhero group. What's not to be excited about?
"I'm Thom." I scratched a dry patch above my elbow. "I can heal things. Sometimes. — Perry Moore

You're such an - " She cut off quickly and moaned when I gently bit down on her neck and brought her shoving hands above her head and pinned them to the bed. Making a trail up her neck, I kissed her thoroughly and smiled when she leaned toward me as I backed up. "Such a what?" "I don't remember," she said against my mouth and pressed our lips together again. "That's what I thought, Sour Patch." She — Molly McAdams

I stopped in the full force of a patch of sunlight in the lobby window and let my skin soak up the energy. I hadn't realized I needed it until it reached inside and stilled me in a way that only David's touch had been able to achieve. "Why does that feel so good?" I asked. "And don't tell me it's because we've been shut in a room for
days."
"Like calls to like," he said. "You're made of fire now."
"So I'm going to feel like this every time I pass an open flame? Great. Firegasm. — Rachel Caine

I can't imagine why you're so interested."
He shook his head. "Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated. — Becca Fitzpatrick

It's got to be the ballot or the bullet. The ballot or the bullet. If you're afraid to use an expression like that, you should get back in the cotton patch, you should get back in the alley. — Malcolm X

Oh, Marx,' Amanda sighed. 'You're so melodramatic. So what if it's this way or that way? When I was in convent school I used to stare out the windows at the clouds. I used to chase butterflies in the Mother Superior's flower patch. Those clouds and those butterflies, they didn't know secular from religious
and they didn't care.' 'I'm neither a cloud nor a butterlfy,' I snapped. 'We're all the same as clouds and butterflies. We just pretend to be something different. — Tom Robbins

Who wants to kill you?" the guy asked. He was still looking over his shoulder, but his expression was puzzled.
"There's nobody there," the girlfriend told me.
"You're making them think they can't see you, aren't you?" I said to Patch, awed by his power even as I despised his use of it. — Becca Fitzpatrick

We can never get a re-creation of community and heal our society without giving our citizens a sense of belonging. — Patch Adams

We're all busy. Meditating monks in their cells are busy. That's adult life, filled to the ceiling with things that need doing. (It seems only children and the elderly aren't plagued by lack of time - and notice how they enjoy their books, how their lives fill their eyes.) But every person has a space next to where they sleep, whether a patch of pavement or a fine bedside table. In that space, at night, a book can glow. And in those moments of docile wakefulness, when we begin to let go of the day, then is the perfect time to pick up a book and be someone else, somewhere else, for a few minutes, a few pages, before we fall asleep. — Yann Martel

Since we're keeping it primal, you smell good," he observed.
"It's called a shower ... ," I began automatically, then trailed off. My memory snagged, taken aback by a compelling and forceful sense of undue familiarity. "Soap, shampoo, hot water," I added, almost as an afterthought.
"Naked. I know the drill," Jev said, something unreadeble passing over his eyes. — Becca Fitzpatrick

You're crazy. You're impossible."
"I'm crazy?"
He tipped my chin up and planted a quick, rough kiss on my mouth. "And I must be crazy for putting up with it. — Becca Fitzpatrick

The nice thing about poetry is that you're always stretching the definitions of words. Lawyers and scientists and scholars of one sort or another try to restrict the definitions, hoping that they can prevent people from fooling each other. But that doesn't stop people from lying.

Cezanne painted a red barn by painting it ten shades of color: purple to yellow. And he got a red barn. Similarly, a poet will describe things many different ways, circling around it, to get to the truth.

My father also had a nice little simile. He said, "The truth is a rabbit in a bramble patch. And you can't lay your hand on it. All you do is circle around and point, and say, 'It's in there somewhere. — Pete Seeger

I'll be firm," I promised Patch, adopting a no-nonsense expression. "No backing down."
By now Patch was full-on grinning. He kissed me again, and I felt my mouth soften its resolve. "You look cute when you're trying to be tough," he said. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Positive. In other news, Marcie's throwing a Halloween party here at the farmhouse."
Patch smiled. "Grey - Millar family drama?"
"The theme is famous couples from history. Could she be any less original? Worse, she's roped my mom into this. They went shopping for decorations today. For three whole hours. It's like they're suddenly best friends." I picked up another apple slice and made a face at it. "Marcie is ruining everything. I wanted Scott to go with Vee, but Marcie already convinced him to go with her." Patch's smile widened.
I aimed my best sulky look at him. "This isn't funny. Marcie is destroying my life. Whose side are you on anyway?"
Patch raised his hands in surrender. "I'm staying out of this. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Holt interrupted her anxious thoughts with a gorgeous smile. "You're the best person on the whole planet." "Have you met everyone on the planet?" Grabbing her hand, and catching her off guard, he twirled her around as if she were Cinderella. Before she could help it, she let out the biggest belly laugh. "After this, I don't need to. You're it, Blair. — Jessica R. Patch

Maybe it would be better if we didn't love. If we didn't lose, either. If we didn't get out hearts stomped on, shattered; if we didn't have to patch and repatch it until we're like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together by who knows what — Lauren Oliver

Your're mine,angel. Im yours.
Nothing can change that
-Patch Cipriano
from hush hush. — Becca Fitzpatrick

The world isn't ending. You are just experiencing turbulence. The plane is safe. The pilot is good. You're in the right seat of life. You just hit a patch of bumpy air. Wait. It will pass. — Regina Brett

Sometimes your garden surprises you. You don't remember planting strawberries or mint, but there it is, rising up in the middle of the carrot patch. Maybe the seeds blew in from the neighbor's garden. Or maybe they were buried in the dirt and you unearthed them when you tilled the soil. Or maybe you're reaping what you've sown. However it happened, you now have unexpected bounty. Accept it with gratitude. — Lisa Brown Roberts

You and me, we're like magnets from here on out. — Jessica R. Patch

I see the eight of us in the Annex as if we were a patch of blue sky surrounded by menacing black clouds. The perfectly round spot on which we're standing is still safe, but the clouds are moving in on us, and the ring between us and the approaching danger is being pulled tighter and tighter. We're surrounded by darkness and danger, and in our desperate search for a way out we keep bumping into each other. We look at the fighting down below and the peace and beauty up above. In the meantime, we've been cut off by the dark mass of clouds, so that we can go neither up nor down. It looms before us like an impenetrable wall, trying to crush us, but not yet able to. I can only cry out and implore, Oh, ring, ring, open wide and let us out! — Anne Frank

You know you're in a bad patch when the most interesting part of the book you're reading is the acknowledgments page. — Sara Nelson

Funny how things like that can change when you're in these kind of situations. Kash usually drove me crazy. He was so stubborn, and such a smart-ass, but I missed those annoying traits so much. I missed the way our personalities clashed and resulted in us fighting; I would give anything to fight with Kash again. The thought of having children with him used to terrify me, and now I was afraid I'd never get to have that opportunity. And I hated the nickname Sour Patch so damn much, but I would never complain about it again if it meant hearing Kash's voice. — Molly McAdams

I wanted to ask you to marry me. Really and truly. Take my last name, be my partner for the rest of my life. Have kids with me, grow old with me, ride on my bike with me until we're so old we can't stay upright, wear my property patch until the name fades so badly that I'm the only one who knows what it says. — Laramie Briscoe

One last thing," he said. "Stop looking for me."
"I'm not looking for you." I scoffed.
He touched his index finger to my forehead, my skin absurdly warming under his touch. It didn't escape me that he couldn't seem to stop finding reasons to touch me. Nor did I miss that I didn't want him to stop. "Under all the layers, a part of you remembers. It's the part that came looking for me tonight. It's that part that's going to get you killed, if you're not careful."
We stood face-to-face, both of us breathing hard. The sirens were so close now.
"What am I supposed to tell the police?" I said.
"You're not going to talk to the police."
"Oh, really? Funny, because I plan on telling them exactly how you rammed that tire iron into Gabe's back. Unless you answer my questions."
He gave an ironic snort. "Blackmail? You've changed, Angel. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Who are you writing to, Linus?"
"This is the time of year to write to the Great Pumpkin. On Halloween Night, the Great Pumpkin rises out of his pumpkin patch and flies through the air with his bag of toys for all the children!"
"You must be crazy! When are you going to stop believing in something that isn't true?"
"When *you* stop believing in that fellow with a red suit and the white beard who goes, 'Ho, ho, ho!'"
"We're obviously separated by denominational differences. — Charles M. Schulz

Go get something to eat." He glanced at Featherwhisker. "You may as well go, too, and while you're at the fresh-kill pile, you can bring me back a morsel to eat. I've had a busy morning." Bluefur glanced around at the clearing. It was scattered with herbs lying amid fallen leaves, and a patch of grass was flattened in one corner where the sun pooled. It was the exact shape of a plump medicine cat. Busy? Huh. — Erin Hunter

You're staying here, Angel."
"You're taking this one alone?"
"First, Hank can't see us together. Second, I don't like the idea of dragging you into something that could get messy fast. If you need one more reason, I love you. — Becca Fitzpatrick

My love," he said with great patience, "you're hair is a rat's nest. Your eyes are swollen from weeping, your nose is red, your clothing is tattered, and you face is streaked with mud. You are still beyond passing fair, but not enough to tempt my immortal soul." He wiped a patch of mud from her delicate cheekbone. "I love you because you have a fierce heart, a brave soul, a tender touch, and woman's grace. I love you for a thousand reasons that I cant even begin to understand, when I didn't want to love you at all. I love your mind and your heart and soul, and yes, I love your pretty face as well. — Anne Stuart

One blob of red in the wrong place and the audience isn't looking at the hero, they're looking at a patch of curtain (or something similar) and your whole effect is lost. — Terence Fisher

If your mom asks you to do the dishes, do not pull out your pirate attitude. But if someone tells you you're not good enough, says your dreams are too lofty, or claims there is no room in showbiz for a dancing violinist - well then, by all means, pull out your eye patch, my friend, and take to the high seas. — Lindsey Stirling

I sent Patch a text. GUESS WHERE I AM?
I DON'T HAVE TO GUESS. YOU'RE WEARING THE TRACKING DEVICE, he answered.
I looked down. Sure enough, I'd worn the jean jacket today.
GIVE ME 20 AND I'LL BE THERE, Patch texted. WHICH ROOM SPECIFICALLY ARE YOU IN?
YOUR BEDROOM.
MAKE THAT TEN MINUTES. — Becca Fitzpatrick

I shook my head. "I don't think so. This isn't a good idea. This isn't right."
"There's all kinds of right," he murmured. "On the spectrum, we're still in the safe zone." ...
"Definitely right. Usually right," Patch continued. "Mostly right. Maybe right. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Religion?" I asked more firmly.
Patch dragged a hand thoughtfully along the line of his jaw. "Not religion ... cult."
"You belong to a cult?" I realized too late that while I sounded surprised, I shouldn't have.
"As it turns out, I'm in need of a healthy female sacrifice. I'd planned on luring her into trusting me first, but if you're ready now ... — Becca Fitzpatrick

Hana's voice is completely toneless. I can't tell if she's being sarcastic. But she is lucky, whether she knows it or not.
And there it is: Even though we're standing in the same patch of sun-drenched pavement, we might as well be a hundred thousand miles apart.
You came from different starts and you'll come to different ends : That's an old saying, something Carol used to repeat a lot. I never really understood how true it was until now. — Lauren Oliver

You're mine, Angel," he murmured, brushing the words across my jawbone as I arched my neck higher, inviting him to kiss everywhere. "You have me forever. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Do you think they're going to buy that a guy in tacky leather chaps dances like this?" I scoffed when he twirled me back into his embrace.
"Keep it up, and I'll put you in the chaps." He didn't smile, but I sensed an undercurrent of amusement. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Some fathers cannot love their children. They find them annoying. Or uninteresting. Or unsettling. They're irritated by their children because they've turned out differently than they had expected. They're irritated because the children were the wife's wish to patch up the marriage when there was nothing left to patch up, her means of forcing a loving marriage where there was no love. And such fathers take it out on the children. Whatever they do, their fathers will be nasty and mean to them." "Please stop." "And the children, the delicate, little, yearning children," Perdu continued more softly, because he was terribly moved by Max's inner turmoil, "do everything they can to be loved. Everything. They think that it must somehow be their fault that their father cannot love them. But Max," and here Perdu lifted Jordan's chin, "it has nothing to do with them. — Nina George

With you and me, I don't know what anything means. We're pushing each other away and yet I don't seem to be able to let you go. — Stephanie Witter

He brushed my curls back off my face. I never pictured my life so complete. I never thought I'd have everything I want. You're everything to me, Angel. — Becca Fitzpatrick

No time spent with a book is ever entirely wasted, even if the experience is not a happy one: there's always something to be learned. It's just that, every now and again, you hit a patch of reading that makes you feel as if you're pootling about ... But what can you do about it? We don't choose to waste our reading time; it just happens. The books let us down. — Nick Hornby

You're crowding me. I need - room. ...
What I needed were boundaries. I needed willpower. I needed to be caged up, since yet again I was proving I couldn't be trusted in Patch's presence. I should have been bolting for the door, and yet ... I wasn't. — Becca Fitzpatrick

And there it is: Even though we're standing in the same patch of sun-drenched pavement, we might as well be a hundred thousand miles apart. — Lauren Oliver

Cooking isn't taught," Patch said. "It's inherent. Either you've got it or you don't. Like chemistry. You think you're ready for chemistry?" I pressed the knife down through the tomato; it split in two, each half rocking gently on the cutting board.
"You tell me. Am I ready for chemistry?" Patch made a deep sound I couldn't decipher and grinned. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Impulsively, I threw up a new wall in my head. And suddenly I saw the situation for what it really was. Dante had me backed up against a tree, all right, but I did not want to make out with him.
"Demonstration finished," Dante said, his smile a bit too cocky for my liking.
"Next time choose a more appropriate demonstration," I said tensely. "Patch would kill you if he found out about this."
His smile didn't fade. "That's a figure of speech that doesn't work very well with Nephilim."
I wasn't in the mood for humor. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to set him off. This petty feud between the two of you will blow up to a whole new level if you mess with me. Patch is the last person you want to antagonize. He doesn't hold grudges, because the people who cross him tend to disappear quickly. And what you just did? That was crossing him. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Did you know, the first time I saw you, I thought: I've never seen anything more captivating and beautiful?"
"Why are you telling me this?" I said miserably.
"I saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you. That wanting nearly drove me mad." Patch paused, inhaling softly, as though breathing me in. "And now that I have you, the only thing that terrifies me is having to go back to that place. Having to want you all over again, with no hope of my desire ever being fulfilled. You're mine, Angel. Every last piece of you. I won't let anything change that. — Becca Fitzpatrick

The oil patch pays good. They're decent jobs paying between 50 and 70 thousand a year. Fracking has a big impact on the oil consumption in the United States. — Harold Hamm

Are you gloating inside? That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting me to trust you so you could blow it up in my face!" [ ... ]
"I get that you're angry - ," said Patch.
"I am ripped apart!" I shouted. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Being with you never felt wrong. It's the one thing I did right. You're the one thing I did right. — Becca Fitzpatrick

But three, now, Christ three A.M.! Doctors say the body's at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You're the nearest to dead you'll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you'd slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot! — Ray Bradbury

If you keep running from me, you're never going to figure out what's
really going on. — Becca Fitzpatrick

This section of Scripture reminds me of the rows of white crosses along the wind-swept hills of Normandy. We're free today because, in June 1944, during the three-month battle of Normandy, nearly fifty-three thousand "nobodies" paid the ultimate price to defeat Nazi tyranny. No fewer than 9, 387 grave markers overlook Omaha Beach, many of them bearing the names of men who died during the first hours of the invasion called D-day. Beneath every white marker lies a person of significance because each one had an impact on the rest of history; each one made a difference. It's a very moving place to be. Visitors to that patch of land near Colleville-sur Mer, France, frequently weep quietly because there the real heroes of the war are silently honored. — Charles R. Swindoll

In Miss Chen's English class, we learned, 'To be or not to be ... ' but there's a big gray area in between. Maybe in Shakespeare times people only had two options. Griffin Wilson, he knew that the SATs were just the gateway to a big lifetime of bullshit. To get married and college. To paying taxes and trying to raise a kid who's not a school shooter. And Griffin Wilson knew drugs are only a patch. After drugs, you're always going to need more drugs. — Chuck Palahniuk

Winter does adversely affect [the roads] and our roads have been let go, so they're more and more porous. We're going to have to put more and more emphasis on permanent patch and maintenance, so I expect a great deal of roads breaking up in the spring. — Bill Vaughan

We go outside.
We rake the leaves.
We pile them way up high.
We jump on top.
We toss them up and watch the colors fly.
What can we do with all these leaves?
I know. I have a plan.
We run inside and find old clothes.
We'll make a pumpkin man.
We button all the buttons.
We tie up legs and sleeves.
We fill and stuff the body with lots of crunchy leaves.
We give him gloves.
We give him boots.
We're having so much fun.
It's time to pick a pumpkin head.
We'll find the nicest one.
Some are short and some are tall.
Some are bumpy.
Some are small.
We look around the pumpkin patch.
We find the best of all!
We cut the top to get inside.
We scoop out all the seeds.
We draw a face and cut it out.
A light is all it needs.
We go outside at sunset, put the pumpkin head in place.
Our pumpkin man smiles back at us with a happy, glowing face. — Judith Moffatt

You want me to list characteristics of a ... ?"
"Potential mate, yes, that would be helpful ... "
Without meaning to, I looked sideways at Patch. He was eased back in his seat, one notch above a slouch, studying me with satisfaction. He flashed his pirate smile and mouthed, We're waiting.
I stacked my hands on the table, hoping I lookedmore composed than I felt. "I've never thought about it before."
"Well, think fast."
"Could you call on someone else first?"
Coach gestured impatiently to my left. "You're up, Patch."
Unlike me, Patch spoke with confidence. He had himself positioned so his body was angled slightly toward mine, our knees mere inches apart.
"Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable — Becca Fitzpatrick