Re Patch Up Quotes & Sayings

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

...how gracious seem the small gifts that may come - a patch of sunlight on a cold floor, an unexpected gesture of friendship, the fragrant steam of hot tea. — Martha Whitmore Hickman

Over the years, I have developed a visceral reaction to families and victims expressing surprise at tragedy. Why are we surprised? Why do we forget we are mortal? Bad, bad things happen everywhere, every day. Humans, for better or worse, harbor this feeling that we - individually - are special. A patch of ice or a pea-sized blood clot makes a mockery of that illusion in a heartbeat. We are not special at all. — Michael Perry

If I asked you to do something for me, I don't suppose you'd listen?" When he had my attention, he continued, "I'm going to take you home. Try to forget tonight happened. Try to act normal, especially around Hank. Don't mention my name."
By way of an answer, I shot him a black look and swung out of the Tahoe. He followed suit, coming around to my side.
"What kind of answer is that?" He asked, but his voice wasn't nearly so gruff. — Becca Fitzpatrick

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

Dante said, "I tried talking Nora into a ride, but she keeps blowing me off."
"That's because she has a hard-A boyfriend. He must have been
homeschooled, because he missed all those valuable lessons we learned in kindergarten, like sharing. He finds out you took Nora for a ride, he'll wrap this shiny new Porsche around the nearest tree. — 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

Dr. Parker and all my parents live in a paper-mache world. They just patch up problems with strips of newspaper and a little glue. — Laurie Halse Anderson

The patch of lawn before it had relapsed into a hayfield; but to the left an overgrown box-garden full of dahlias and rusty rose-bushes encircled a ghostly summer-house of trellis-work that had once been white, surmounted by a wooden Cupid who had lost his bow and arrow but continued to take ineffectual aim. — Edith Wharton

He was hungry, and his first thought was to collect a dozen or two gulls' eggs to make a meal. But embryo chicks were forming in all of them. So he rowed out to do some fishing and was more succesful. He lived on fish from day to day and sang and whiled the time away and ruled over the island. When it rained he too shelter beneath a splendid overhangig rock. At night he slept on a patch of grass and the sun never set. — Knut Hamsun

I can honestly say and swear on my patch that I have never in my life hurt anybody that I really didn't feel had it coming, because they was either trying to hurt me or my friends. If everybody was like that it [life] would be real different. — Sonny Barger

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

I'll be your old lady and I'll wear your patch. But if you ever let some bitch shove her tits in your face again, I'll shoot you myself. — Joanna Wylde

He regarded us with dark, evaluating eyes. "This can't be good."
"I'll go first," Dabria began, sucking in a rattling breath.
"Not even close," I shot back. I faced Patch directly, cutting Dabria out of the conversation. "She kissed you! And Dante, who's been tailing you, by the way, caught it on camera. Imagine my surprise when that's what I got an eyeful of earlier tonight. Did you even think to tell me?"
"I told her I kissed you, and that you pushed me away," Dabria protested shrilly.
"What are you still doing here?" I exploded at Dabria. "This is between me and Patch. Leave already!"
"What are you doing here?" Patch echoed to Dabria, his tone sharpening.
"I - broke in," she sputtered. "I was scared. I couldn't sleep. I can't stop thinking about Hanoth and the other Nephilim."
"You have got to be kidding me," I said. — Becca Fitzpatrick

We men should be ashamed of ourselves. I think 85 percent of men are dangerous to women. We need to change to a values system nested in compassion and generosity, and women have carried that torch throughout history. — Patch Adams

I'm terrified that I'm genetically predisposed to only having boys. That's frightening. By the time I was 10 years old, and I'm not exaggerating, I knew how to patch drywall. — Ryan Reynolds

Even in winter an isolated patch of snow has a special quality. — Andy Goldsworthy

Vishous: " ... we both would slaughter anything that so much as startled you."
Jane: "I'm scared of mice and spiders. But you don't need to use that gun on your hip to blow a hole in a wall if I ran into one, okay? Havaheart traps and rolled newspapers work just as well. Plus, you don't need a Sheetrock patch and plaster job afterward. I'm just saying. — J.R. Ward

Is letting our children watch TV a form of child abuse? If our children grow up knowing everything about Britney Spears and nothing about nature or faith, about anything, is that not a form of child abuse? — Patch Adams

The mysteries of germination and flowering and fruiting engaged me from an early age, and the fact that by planting and working an ordinary patch of dirt you could in a few months' time harvest things of taste and value was, for me, nature's most enduring astonishment. — Michael Pollan

This creative tension between wonderful and terrible is named so well by Gerard Manley Hopkins, as only poets can. Even the long title of his poem reveals his acceptance of the ever-changing flow of Heraclites and also his trust in the final outcome: "That Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection." Flesh fade, and mortal trash fall to the residuary worm; world's wildfire, leave but ash: In a flash, at a trumpet crash, I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, — Richard Rohr

If you walk five blocks north from the wholefoods in Berkeley along Telegraph Avenue and then turn right at Dwight way, you'll soon come to a trash-strewn patch of grass and trees dotted with the tattered camps of a few homeless people. — Michael Pollan

A laugh reverberated through his chest, into her, and before she was ready Wolf settled her feet onto a patch of squishy moss. She scrambled out of his hold, caught her balance, then punched him squarely in the arm. "Never do that again. — Marissa Meyer

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

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 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

Pelageya sits down a bit further away in a patch of sun and, ashamed of her joy, covers her smiling mouth with her hand. — Anton Chekhov

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If there was just a little more time, or a little more money, or if you could just get through this one last rough patch, it would all be clear, it would all fall into place. It's an insatiable trap. And — Anna Kendrick

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was too late - everything was too late. For years now he had dreamed the world away, basing his decisions upon emotions unstable as water. — F Scott Fitzgerald

And you would have lost. We were surrounded. He threatened your life, and he would have made good on that threat. He had you, and that meant he had me, too. — Becca Fitzpatrick

I also remember, having been fucked up every day for years, that the world seemed like such a novelty to me during my first few years sober. Like, I remember going through each of the seasons and the magic of rediscovering what it felt like to be in the world: going to a pumpkin patch on Halloween, getting a tree for Christmas, I felt excited by reality in a way that I never had before. I actually wanted to be alive. — Melissa Broder

Fall makes me think that if I fail horribly at this art thing, and then fail horribly with this writing thing, I'll go run a pumpkin patch. — Tyler Hojberg

this is real, and it is happening now, just as it happened before: We are under the big tree in my backyard, on that patch of dirt where we used to build fairy houses from moss and sticks and scraps of birch. It is late afternoon. All around us is golden light. We have been together all day, in our cutoff shorts and bare feet. It is the start of fifth grade, the start of being the oldest in the school. Next year, we will be the youngest all over again. But not yet. We are playing that hand-slapping game, the one we like to play at recess. You hold your hands out, palms up, and I place mine lightly on top. You pull yours out and try to slap mine. You hit air three times. On the fourth try, your — Ali Benjamin

Her pubic hair grew like a patch of grass that had been trampled by a passing army. — Haruki Murakami

She sat down in a weed patch, her elbows on her knees, and kept her eyes on the small sterious world of the ground. In the shade and sun of grass blade forests, small living things had their metropolis. — Nancy Price

The skin of his torso was smooth and golden, rows of hard silken muscles contracting at her timid touch. His body radiated heat, luring her like a cat to a patch of sunlight. — Lisa Kleypas

Patch wasn't the kind of guy mothers smiled on. He was the kind of guy they changed the house locks for. — Becca Fitzpatrick

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

Thalia had gotten herself turned into a pine tree when she was twelve. Me ... Well, I was doing
my best not to follow her example. I had nightmares about what Poseidon might turn me into
if I were ever on the verge of death
plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp. — Rick Riordan

Life would be a darned sight simpler if feelings were as easy to patch up as a piece of sailcloth. — Harry Haskell

What ceremony of words can patch the havoc? — Sylvia Plath

But although the rules are vague
And widely disregarded now
Some precepts remain: live with love -
That is a rule we all can understand;
Forgive those who need forgiveness,
Which I think is everybody, more or less;
Be kind - that, perhaps, is first and foremost
In any postmodern, new-fangled
Code we devise for ourselves;
Yes, be kind: love one another,
And most of all tend with gentleness
The small patch of terra firma
That is allocated to each of us ... — Alexander McCall Smith

Independently of me the grass grows, the rain falls on the grass that grows, and the sun shines on the patch of grass that grew or will grow; the hills have been there for ages, and the wind blows in the same way as when Homer heard it, even if he didn't exist. — Fernando Pessoa

The security business is as thick as the club. Business in both areas stays private. Everyone is on a need-to-know basis, me and Mom included...that is until I patch in. — Katie McGarry

You know she needs you. Think for a minute instead of playing the wounded ego card.' - Derek — Stephanie Witter

But, Doc, I'm not fourteen any more, and I'm not Lulamae. But the terrible part is (and I realized it while we were standing there) I am. I'm still stealing turkey eggs and running through a brier patch. Only now I call it having the mean reds. — Truman Capote

There was a bad patch in the '80s and early '90s when feminist thinking had become sort of a monopoly and had developed a series of litmus tests. — Naomi Wolf

Duc?' The boy leaned against a twisted willow tree. 'Or bastard? — Becca Fitzpatrick

Are you saying you gave up getting a human body for me?" He lifted my bandaged hand. Underneath all the game, my knuckles throbbed from punching Jules. Patch kissed each finger, taking his time, keeping his eyes glued to mine.
"What good is a body if I can't have you? — Becca Fitzpatrick

I am funny, but I'm not about funny ...
I'm about peace & justice. — Patch Adams

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

In a flash, at a trumpet crash, I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, Is immortal diamond. — Wesley Hill

A certain amount of housekeeping also goes on in my poems. I wash doorknobs, do dishes, mop floors, patch carpets, cook. — Jane Hirshfield

A garden was one of the few thing in prison that one could control. To plant a seed, watch it grow, to tend it then harvest it, offered a simple but enduring satisfaction. The sense of being the custodian of this small patch of earth offered a taste of freedom. — Nelson Mandela

But if the choice I have to make comes down to you or me, I choose you.
I always have.
All my love,
Patch — Becca Fitzpatrick

Yet this tree, for all that it seemed a patch of darkness past understanding, fascinated me. — Deanna Skaggs

Jev stroked his chin. Do I look like a summer fling? — Becca Fitzpatrick

No risk is more terrifying than that taken by the first root. A lucky root will eventually find water, but its first job is to anchor -- to anchor an embryo and forever end its mobile phase, however passive that mobility was. Once the first root is extended, the plant will never again enjoy any hope (however feeble) of relocating to a place less cold, less dry, less dangerous. Indeed, it will face frost, drought, and greedy jaws without any possibility of flight. The tiny rootlet has only once chance to guess what the future years, decades -- even centuries -- will bring to the patch of soil where it sits. It assesses the light and humidity of the moment, refers to its programming, and quite literally takes the plunge. — Hope Jahren

Always try to keep a patch of sky above your life. — Marcel Proust

See, when you lie to me it hurts," Rixon said, swiping an imaginary tear. "I thought we had something special. I thought our joint eternal sentences of damnation were our bond. — Becca Fitzpatrick

We must not just patch and tinker with life. We must keep renewing it. Embrace novelty and uniqueness. — William James

Patch's eyes made a slow assessment of me, sharpening to vivid black. "I'm going to have a hard time sending you off with Scott in that dress. Just a heads-up: If you come home and the dress looks even slightly tampered with, I will track Scott down, and when I find him, it won't be pretty."
"I'll relay the message."
"If you tell me where he's hiding, I'll relay it myself."
I had to work not to smile. "Something tells me your message would be a lot more direct."
"Let's just say he'd get the point. — Becca Fitzpatrick