She Don't Miss Me Quotes & Sayings

I'm a lawyer. I meet people every day who are on the surface considerably worse than you are. You, Janx, Alban, you're really all so ... normal. You can do stuff I can't, but so can Michael Jordan." Dismay hit her palpably enough to make her want to step back, though she held her ground even as she
groaned. "Please don't tell me he's one of you."
Daisani's shoulders rose and fell, a single admission of silent laughter. "I believe Mr. Jordan is as human as you are, Miss Knight. — C.E. Murphy

You want Mr. Staines to love you very much, don't you, Miss Wetherell?'
Anna seemed offended by his implication. 'He does love me.'
'That wasn't my question.'
She squinted at him. 'Everyone wants to be loved.'
'That's very true,' Devlin said, sadly. 'We all want to be loved - and need to be loved, I think. Without love, we cannot be ourselves. — Eleanor Catton

She spoke about it with such emphasis (somewhat affected) that I could see at once that I was hearing the manifesto of her generation. Every generation has its own set of passions, loves, and interests, which it professes with a certain tenacity, to differentiate it from older generations and to confirm itself in its uniqueness. Submitting to a generation mentality (to this pride of the herd) has always repelled me. After Miss Broz had developed her provocative argument (I've now heard it at least fifty times from people her age) that all mankind is divided into those who give hitchhikers lifts (human people who love adventure) and those who don't (inhuman people who fear life), I jokingly called her a "dogmatist of the hitch." She answered sharply that she was neither dogmatist nor revisionist nor sectarian nor deviationist, that those were all words of ours, that we had invented them, that they belonged to us, and that they were completely alien to them. — Milan Kundera

I think she'll fit quite well. As wives go, Miss Pursling will be just like these books. When I wish to take her down and read her, she'll be there. When I don't, she'll wait patiently, precisely where she was left. She'll make me a comfortable wife, Ames. Besides, my mother likes her. — Courtney Milan

You are grown, Abby, dear. You're amazing. I don't know why you don't see that." "But, that's just it. I do see that. I know I'm amazing and that people should get over the past and see that I'm an adult who likes to dance and not just knit. They need to get over the fact that my parents always fought and don't even know who I am anymore. They need to know that I'm not the goody-goody they think I am. But that's not going to happen in a town where everyone knows the exact brand of tampons I use and when I need to buy them." Jordan curled a lip and shook her head. "That's just sick. You know, that was one part of small-town living I didn't miss." "Yeah, just wait until they make a connection to when you stop buying them. Because believe me, they're watching to see when you and Matt make a mini Cooper." She laughed at her own joke, even as Jordan's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right? We just got married. — Carrie Ann Ryan

If I told her how I feel, she'd miss me even more. Afterall, I'm the guy who keeps breaking her heart by making her wait an eternity ... even though I'm always by her side. I don't wanna see her cry anymore. Even if it means I no longer have a place in her heart. Seems pretty childish of me, doesn't it? -Edogawa Conan — Gosho Aoyama

But it's no use. I m already on my feet. She drags me onto the dance floor, jiving and snapping her fingers. When we're surrounded by other couples she turns to me. I take a deep breath and then take her in my arms. We wait a couple beats and then we're off, floating around the dance floor in a swirling sea of people. She's light as air
doesn't miss a step, and that's a feat considering how clumsy I am. And it's not as though I don't know how to dance, because I do. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. I'm sure as hell not drunk. — Sara Gruen

Miss Edmonton: I don't even know where to start. It's too horrifying to even speak of.
Jenny: Nonsense. Let's start with the basics. What did your aunt tell you?
Miss Edmonton: My aunt said that my husband will come into my room and pull my skirt up. And then he'll put himself inside of me. She said it hurts. She suggested I hold my tongue and pretend I am somewhere else until he is done.
Jenny: Yes. I should think it would hurt if you did it that way. Good heavens. — Courtney Milan

You'll find out when my fangs are buried in your neck," she said. "Why not right now?" Cain breathed. "Come on - hit me. Hit me with all that rage you feel every time you force yourself to miss the bull's-eye, or when you slow yourself down so you don't scale walls as fast as me. Hit me, Lillian," he whispered so only she could hear, "and let's see what that year in Endovier really taught you." Celaena's heart leapt into a gallop. He knew. He knew who she was, and what she was doing. — Sarah J. Maas

This is me. Despite our long separation, I know you. You may pretend to be fine, but I don't buy it." He stopped her from moving by putting his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her closer to him. She didn't resist that much this time. He slid his arms around her and was surprised when she wrapped her arms around him as well. "I miss you," he whispered in her hair, dropping a light kiss there. She smelled so good. Her scent reminded him of all the things he missed about her. How had he ever been so stupid to let her go? — Nikki Lynn Barrett

On, I don't think I'm a genius!' cried Josie, growing calm and sober as she listened to the melodious voice and looked into the expressive face that filled her with confidence, so strong, sincere and kindly was it. 'I only want to find out if I have talent enough to go on, and after years of study be able to act well in any of the good plays people never tire of seeing. I don't expected to be a Mrs. Siddons or a Miss Cameron, much as I long to be; but it does seem as if I had something in me which can't come out in any way but this. When I act I'm perfectly happy. I seem to live, to be in my own world, and each new part is a new friend. I love Shakespeare, and am never tired of his splendid people. Of course I don't understand it all; but it's like being alone at night with the mountains and the stars, solemn and grand, and I try to imagine how it will look when the sun comes up, and all is glorious and clear to me. I can't see, but I feel the beauty, and long to express it. — Louisa May Alcott

I don't know where you get off telling everyone what to do. Did I miss the part where you were crowned top turd? I don't want to play the wicked consort of Eric the Evil. Last time I looked, there wasn't a wicked consort clause in my contract." Donna turned to Eric as he stopped by her side. "I can't believe he thinks he can harass me like he does the rest of the poor wretches who work here." She glared at Holgarth. "Why not rent a wig and you can be the wicked consort?"
As one of the castle's poor wretches, Eric didn't offer anything to the conversation because he was too busy picturing Holgarth in a wig. And from there, he went on to imagine Donna in her wicked consort costume - short on cloth with lots of bare skin showing. Things were looking up. — Nina Bangs

It was weird to hear Grace this way. It was weird to be here, sitting in my car with her best friend when Grace was home, needing me for once. It was weird to want to tell her that we didn't need to go to the studio until things calmed down. But I couldn't tell her no. I physically couldn't say it to her. Hearing her like this ... she was a different thing than I'd ever seen her be, and I felt some dangerous and lovely future whispering secrets in my ear. I said, "I wish it were Sunday, too."
"I don't want to be alone tonight," Grace said.
Something in my heart twinged. I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them again. I thought about sneaking over myself; I thought about telling her to sneak out. I imagined lying in my bedroom beneath my paper cranes, with the warm shape of her tucked against me, not having to worry about hiding in the morning, just having her with me on our terms, and I ached and ached some more with the force of wanting it. I echoed, "I miss you, too. — Maggie Stiefvater

Valkyrie dialed Skulduggery's number and he picked up. 'Hey,' she said, 'It's me.'
Skulduggery paused. 'No it's not. If it were me, then I'd be talking to myself, and I don't do that any more. I certainly don't RING myself. That's one of the first signs of madness, and if it's not, it should be.'
She sighed. 'Are you finished talking nonsense?'
'I haven't talked nonsense all morning. I miss it. — Derek Landy

The time arrives. 'It is a waltz, I think,' Miss Larkins doubtfully observes, when I present myself. 'Do you waltz? If not, Captain Bailey - ' But I do waltz (pretty well, too, as it happens), and I take Miss Larkins out. I take her sternly from the side of Captain Bailey. He is wretched, I have no doubt; but he is nothing to me. I have been wretched, too. I waltz with the eldest Miss Larkins! I don't know where, among whom, or how long. I only know that I swim about in space, with a blue angel, in a state of blissful delirium, until I find myself alone with her in a little room, resting on a sofa. She admires a flower (pink camellia japonica, price half-a-crown), in my button-hole. I give it her, and say: 'I ask an inestimable price for it, Miss Larkins.' 'Indeed! What is that?' returns Miss Larkins. 'A flower of yours, that I may treasure it as a miser does gold.' 'You're a bold boy,' says Miss Larkins. 'There. — Charles Dickens

We're in luck. This place looks like it's terraformed. There must be sensors for checking the air quality outside."

"There are," she agrees. "But the electrical surge fried them. We don't need them, though. It's safe."

"Glad you're so sure, Miss LaRoux," I retort before I can stop myself. "I think I'd rather an instrument told me so. Not that I don't trust your extensive training." Her eyes narrow, and if looks could kill, then toxic atmospheres would be the least of my problems. — Amie Kaufman

Harriet looked up. "I did work that out - eventually. But what happened last week seemed to make it quite impossible." "I don't think," said Peter, "you approached the problem - forgive me for saying so - with an unprejudiced mind and undivided attention. Something got between you and the facts." "Miss Vane has been helping me so generously with my books," murmured Miss Lydgate, contritely; "and she has had her own work to do as well. We really ought not to have asked her to spare any time for our problems." "I had plenty of time," said Harriet. "I was only stupid. — Dorothy L. Sayers

AN EMPTY GARLIC

"You miss the garden,
because you want a small fig from a random tree.
You don't meet the beautiful woman. You're joking with an old crone.
It makes me want to cry how she detains you,
stinking mouthed, with a hundred talons,
putting her head over the roof edge to call down,
tasteless fig, fold over fold, empty
as dry-rotten garlic.

She has you tight by the belt,
even though there's no flower and no milk inside her body.

Death will open your eyes
to what her face is: leather spine
of a black lizard. No more advice.

Let yourself be silently drawn
by the stronger pull of what you really love. — Jalaluddin Rumi

Let me rephrase," he added, sharper than barbed steel. "I'm coming with you."
"Excuse me?" Solara came to a sudden stop, forcing him to do the same. "You'll go wherever I send you."
"I'm not - "
"Don't interrupt."
He sealed his lips shut.
"Our relationship is simple," she told him. "I say 'Jump,' and you say 'Through which window, Miss Brooks?' You don't make demands of me. Are we clear? — Melissa Landers

I be yellin out money over everything, money on my mind then she wanna ask when it got so empty. Tell her I apologize, happened over time. They say they miss the old Drake, girl don't tempt me — Drake

Kota!" I said, stepping away from my sisters and Lucy.
"You can sleep on the couch or in the garage or in the tree house for all I care; but if you don't check your attitude, I'll send you back to your apartment right now! Have some gratitude for the security you've been offered. Need I remind you that tomorrow we're burying our father? Either stop the bickering or go home." I turned on my heel and headed down the hall. Without checking, I knew Lucy was right behind me, suitcase in hand.
I opened the door to my room, waiting for her to come in with me. Once her skirts swished past the frame, I slammed it shut, heaving a sigh. "Was that too much?" I asked.
"It was perfect!" she replied with delight.
"You might as well be the princess already, miss. You're ready for it. — Kiera Cass

THE HOUSE straightened up and then go on and fix some of that chicken salad now, say Miss Leefolt. It's bridge club day. Every fourth Wednesday a the month. A course I already got everthing ready to go - made the chicken salad this morning, ironed the tablecloths yesterday. Miss Leefolt seen me at it too. She ain't but twenty-three years old and she like hearing herself tell me what to do. She already got the blue dress on I ironed this morning, the one with sixty-five pleats on the waist, so tiny I got to squint through my glasses to iron. I don't hate much in life, — Kathryn Stockett

if i

or anybody don't
know where it her his

my next meal's coming from
i say to hell with that
that doesn't matter (and if

he she it or everybody gets a
bellyful without
lifting my finger i say to hell
with that i

say that doesn't matter) but
if somebody
or you are beautiful or
deep or generous what
i say is

whistle that
sing that yell that spell
that out big (bigger than cosmic
rays w ar earthquakes famine or the ex

prince of whoses diving into
a whatses to rescue miss nobody's
probably handbag) because i say that's not

swell (get me) babe not (understand me) lousy
kid that's something else my sweet (i feel that's

true) — E. E. Cummings

How I miss him," he whispered. "He knew me well."
"He knew you as you were," Beatrix said. "But I think you've changed. You don't expect perfection now. How else could you explain your attraction to me?"
Christopher gently took her face in his hands. "You are my idea of perfection, Beatrix Heloise."
She leaned forward until their noses touched. "Have you forgiven yourself?" she asked softly. "For surviving?"
"I'm trying to. — Lisa Kleypas

Forgive me, Mr. Addleshaw, but I don't think Miss Peabody is exactly keen about going to Arnold Constable & Company."
"Why would you say that?"
"She's dashing away in the opposite direction."
Oliver turned, and sure enough, Harriet was quickly disappearing into the crowd, her huge hat once again bobbing in the breeze. — Jen Turano

I remember everything about her. The way she looked. The way she smelled. The way she'd come home from her job so tired she could barely put her feet up. I don't think I've talked about her five times in the past twenty years. But I think about her every day. I think about why she gave me up. And I think about why I still miss her. — Harlan Coben

You're going to turn into somebody like Miss Tick, said her Second Thoughts. Do you really want that? "Yes," said a voice, and Tiffany realized that it was hers again. The anger rose up, joyfully. "Yes! I'm me! I am careful and logical and I look up things I don't understand! When I hear people use the wrong words, I get edgy! I am good with cheese. I read books fast! I think! And I always have a piece of string! That's the kind of person I am!" She stopped. Even Wentworth was staring at her now. He blinked. "Big water cow gone," he suggested meekly. "That's right! Good boy!" said Tiffany. "When we get home, you can have one sweet!" She — Terry Pratchett

I HATE you," she told her sister over the speakerphone in her secure wing of Brigid and Carwyn's house. "No, you don't." "I do." "What did Murphy do?" "Nothing." Except kiss me in Galway and remind me that I miss him like a lost limb. Stare at me during the opera as if he'd eat me alive in the most pleasurable way possible. Show off his intellect, which has always been the most attractive thing about him. "Patrick Murphy has been a complete gentleman," she said. "Unerringly polite and respectful. Painfully welcoming." Anne heard Mary suck on her cigarette and release a breath. "Hateful man. That would irritate the piss out of me. — Elizabeth Hunter

She said, "Look me right in the eye, and tell me you don't love me, and I'll go."
He stared at her. "Miss, I do not love you."
"Don't give me that rot! I'm coming with you, and that's final!"
"Daphne, you just said that if I said ... "
"That doesn't count! I said look me right in the eye! You were staring at my nose! — John C. Wright

Marry me. Nay, marriage will cost us precious moments together. Let us make sweet, passionate love right here. Let me bear your children."
A primal growl signaled Miss Lynn getting over her shock at being thus addressed. She lunged forward; Jack deftly rolled off the bench, jumping up out of her reach.
"Goodness, I didn't expect you to be quite this enthusiastic about my advances. If I don't play hard to get, how will I ever know whether or not you respect me? — Kiersten White

I think that's Miss Victorine now with your breakfast. Are you hungry?"
"Do you expect me to sit here like a bloody fool and eat a meal?"
"You'll always be a bloody fool, there's nothing to be done about that, and I don't care if you starve to death." Moving to the bottom of the stairway, she took the tray from Miss Victorine's hand. "But right now you have to maintain a modicum of health or we won't get our money. — Christina Dodd

The manager rolls his eyes. "Sorry, miss, already picked my dozen - "
"So make it a baker's dozen," someone yells from the back.
"Bet she can't hit the bloody nail anyway. Give us somethin' to laugh at." That voice is clearly Kiernan's, and most of the men chuckle.
-
Kiernan comes back about ten minutes later and takes his seat. "Good work."
I snort. "Don't give me that. I heard you back there."
"Just seeding the crowd. A time-honored practice among showmen and politicians alike. — Rysa Walker

It doesn't matter," she explains to Miss J. "I want to be where you are. And I don't know the way back to wherever I was before, anyway. I don't even remember it. All I remember is the block, and you. You're ... " Now it's Melanie's turn to hesitate. She doesn't know the words for this. "You're my bread," she says at last. "When I'm hungry. I don't mean that I want to eat you, Miss Justineau! I really don't! I'd rather die than do that. I just mean ... you fill me up the way the bread does to the man in the song. You make me feel like I don't need anything else. — M.R. Carey

Miss Marshall, are you trying to tell me that you didn't dream of marrying a lord when you were young? That you didn't play at being a lady, imagining what it would be like to be waited on hand and foot? I thought every little girl with any inclination at all to marry dreamed of catching the eye of a lord."
"God, no." She looked horrified. "Farm girls who catch the eye of a lord don't end up married. If we're lucky, we don't end up pregnant. — Courtney Milan

Her time has come," answered Miss Lizzie. "That's why I didn't marry Harvey - long ago when he asked me. I was afraid of 'that'. So afraid." "I don't know," Miss Lizzie said. "Sometimes I think it's better to suffer bitter unhappiness and to fight and to scream out, and even to suffer that terrible pain, than just to be safe." She waited until the next scream died away. "At least she knows she's living. — Betty Smith

She sighs, and then gives me this look. It's new and I don't like it. Sort of, Two roads diverged in a wood, mine is normal, but I hope you can be happy for me even though you are Miss Havisham. — Anna Breslaw

Oh, they don't miss me," she said. "I'm anti-social, they say. I don't mix. It's so strange. I'm very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn't it? Social to me means talking about things like this."

She rattled some chestnuts that had fallen off the tree in the front yard.

"Or talking about how strange the world is. Being with people is nice. But I don't think it's social to get a bunch of people together and then not let them talk, do you? — Ray Bradbury

How do I love thee? wondered Orion. "Let me see. I love thee passionately and eternally ... obviously eternally-that goes without saying." Holly blinked sweat from her eyes. "Is he serious?" she called over her shoulder to Foaly. "Oh, absolutely," said the centaur "If he asks you to look for birthmarks, say no immediately." "Oh, I would never." Orion assured her. "Ladies don't look for birthmarks; that is work for jolly fellows like the Goodly Beast and myself. Ladies, like Miss Short, do enough by simply existing. They exude beauty, and that is enough." "I am not exuding anything." said Holly, through gritted teeth. Orion tapped her shoulder. "I beg to differ. You're exuding right now, a wonderful aura. It's pastel blue with little dolphins." Holly gripped the wheel tightly. "I'm going to be sick. Did he just say pastel blue?" "And dolphins, little ones," said Foaly. — Eoin Colfer

I can well imagine a lily-livered coward shying away from taking you on. But don't try to tell me that you haven't had your chances. I refuse to believe that every man in Hampshire is blind and stupid. Unless thin English blood is to blame." "You forget I've got thin English blood." He smiled. "There's nothing thin about your blood, lassie. Perhaps that's why it takes a proud Scot to see your true worth. I don't want a milk-and-water miss at my side. I want a woman of strength and fire. A woman like you." Shocked, she struggled to sit up. He'd started out with the familiar teasing, but purpose had resonated through that declaration. "Nobody's ever said anything like that to me before." "I want a wife to share my joys and troubles." His Scottish burr deepened with every word. "I want a wife who meets a challenge with a sparkle in her eyes. I want a wife who gives me a run for my money." Inside — Anna Campbell

Page 33 "Oh, they don't miss me," she said. "I'm very antisocial, they say. I don't mix. It's so strange. I'm very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn't it? Social to me means talking to you about things like this. — Ray Bradbury

I wake up in the morning and I see that flower, with the dew on its petals, and at the way it's folding out, and it makes me happy, she said. It's important to focus on the things in the here and now, I think. In a month, the flower will be shriveled and you will miss its beauty if you don't make the effort to do it now. Your life, eventually, is the same way. — Dan Buettner

I don't want Tiamat to go back," said Jeremy sullenly. "I want her to stay here with me."
Miss Priest laughed. It was not a horrible laugh at all. "What a terrible idea!" she said. "Why do you want her to stay?"
Because I love her. I don't want to lose her."
Miss Priest reached out and took his chin in her hand. She looked into his eyes. "You silly boy," she said. "Nothing you love is lost. Not really. Things, people - they always go away, sooner or later. You can't hold them, any more than you can hold moonlight. But if they've touched you, if they're inside you, then they're still yours. The only things you ever really have are the ones you hold inside your heart. — Bruce Coville

I don't understand. She's always been so friendly toward me."
"Yes, so long as your work consisted of updating calendars and photocopying golf club bylaws."
"But there was no danger of my taking her place!"
"She was never afraid of that."
"Then why denounce me? Why would it upset her if I went to work for you?"
"Miss Mori struggled for years to get the job she has now. She probably found it unbearable for you to get that sort of promotion after being with the company only ten weeks."
"I can't believe it. That's just so ... mean."
"All I can say is that she suffered greatly during the first few years she was here."
"So she wants me to suffer the same fate? It's too pathetic. I must talk to her."
"Do you really think that's a good idea?"
"Of course. How else are we going to work things out if we don't talk?"
"You just talked to Mister Omochi. Does it strike you that things have been worked out? — Amelie Nothomb

I wish I could find him again." And then: "I will find him again. If they don't send me away."
"They won't send you away," said Miss Minton. Mrs. Carter was already waiting greedily for the next month's allowance for Maia from the bank in Manaus. "However, it seems to me we must find a way of getting you out of doors." She wrinkled her formidable forehead. "I think a disease might be best. Yes. Something that makes it necessary for you to go out and breathe fresh air. Even damp air. Let me think. What about pulmonary spasms?"
Maia stared at her. "I've never heard of them."
"Well, no. I've just made them up. — Eva Ibbotson

I'm not the one who kissed you in the bathroom. In case you're thinking I forgot about that, or somehow missed it, or ... "
"Kind of hard to miss," Ian agreed. "Your lips, mine. A distinct smacking sound. Yup, that was me kissing you. Still, it was short - quickly over and done. A kiss good-bye. The subtext was I hope we don't die, but if we do, it was nice meeting you. Not at all like that under-the-dock kiss." He paused. "The one where you jumped me. The first time. So far." He narrowed his eyes at her, much the way she'd done to him. "Naturally I'm suspicious. Did you intentionally leave my clothes behind? — Suzanne Brockmann

I enjoy being shown things. Is there anything you require, like a spirit lamp, or
"
"It's not a seance, Henry," ... "You don't need to this if you don't want to, Miss Gray."
"Actually, I do require something." She turned to Jessamine. "Something of yours, please. A ring, or a handkerchief
"
Jessamine wrinkled her nose. "Dear me, it sounds to me rather as if your special powers is pickpocketing — Cassandra Clare

She started out of the kitchen, then stopped and put her hand on my shoulder, bending down to kiss me gently on the forehead. She smelled like vanilla and Joy perfume, and suddenly I felt like I might start crying again. "You really scared me, Caitlin," she said, smiling as she brushed her fingers through my hair. "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you." I could tell her, I told myself. I could tell her right now and fix this. I could say that he hits me and I hate cheerleading and I miss Cass but I know why she left and I wish I could make everything better but I can't, I can't, I can't even tell you where it hurts, not now. "Don't worry," I said instead, as she ruffled my hair and walked away, my mother, to do what she did best, to take care of me. "I'm fine. — Sarah Dessen

Where do you want to go?" I ask again. "Tell me, truly, where you'd love to go."
I don't initially realize how much hinges on her answer. If she says, Let's go to the mall, I will disconnect. If she says, Take me back to your house, I will disconnect. If she says, Actually, I don't want to miss sixth period, I will disconnect. And I should disconnect. I should not be doing this.

But she says, "I want to go to the ocean. I want you to take me to the ocean."

And I feel myself connecting. — David Levithan

The Vicar and Miss Marcy had managed to by-pass the suffering that comes to most people - he by his religion, she by her kindness to others. And it came to me that if one does that, one is liable to miss too much along with the suffering - perhaps, in a way, life itself. Is that why Miss Marcy seems so young for her age - why the Vicar, in spite of all his cleverness, has that look of an elderly baby? I said aloud: 'I don't want to miss *anything.*' And then misery came rushing back like a river that has been dammed up. I tried to open my heart to it, to welcome it as a part of my life's experience, and at first that made it easier to bear. Then it got worse than ever before - it was physical as well as mental, my heart and ribs and shoulders and chest, even my arms, ached. — Dodie Smith

He looked stunned. "That's not what I - "
"It was," she said, interrupting him. "You acted like a vamp, Michael. Like any vamp getting
back-talked by a human. You could have gotten us hurt. You could have gotten Eve killed!"
Michael looked at Shane, who lifted his shoulders in a tiny, apologetic shrug. "She's not
wrong, bro."
"That's not what it was," Michael insisted. "I was just trying to - look, Eve started it."
"Hey! That thump you heard was me under the bus, there! "
Shane shrugged again. "And now Michael's not wrong. Hey, I like this game. I don't have to
be the wrong one for once in my life."
"Shut up, Shane," Eve snapped. "What about you, Miss Oh, sir, please let my friends go; I'm
such a delicate little flower? What a crock of shit, Claire! — Rachel Caine

I think it's degrading of you, Flora,' cried Mrs Smiling at breakfast. 'Do you truly mean that you don't ever want to work at anything?'
Her friend replied after some thought: 'Well, when I am fifty-three or so I would like to write a novel as good as "Persuasion", but with a modern setting, of course. For the next thirty years or so I shall be collecting material for it. If anyone asks me what I work at, I shall say "Collecting material." No one can object to that. Besides, I shall be.'
Mrs Smiling drank some coffee in silent disapproval.
'If you ask me,' continued Flora, 'I think I have much in common with Miss Austen. She liked everything to be tidy and pleasant and comfortable around her, and so do I. You see Mary,' - and here Flora began to grow earnest and to wave one finger about - 'unless everything is tidy and pleasant and comfortable all about one, people cannot even begin to enjoy life. I cannot endure messes. — Stella Gibbons

After dessert we sipped on strong cups of tea, one of the luxuries we can afford to take for granted here in the trade routes.
"Delightful," she said. "If only for a little cream."
"Don't speak to me of cream, Captain. I dream about milk at least twice a week. I run naked with milk running in rivulets from the corners of my mouth. I even miss humble parsley
zounds, how I've taken that weed for granted! And butter, I'll not describe my butter dreams, they're too depraved."
Mabbot chuckled. "We must leave something for dreams. — Eli Brown

He stopped before opening the door and faced her. "You'll leave the window open for me and you'll be naked. When I come back, I'll take what I want from you, as many times as I want to." He grinned; it was pure and raw and astonishingly beautiful. "Understand me Lady Dagmar?" She shook her head. "No. You'll have to explain it to me."
"I will. Even if I have to tie you to bed and explain it to you again and again and again." He looked over one more time. "And don't play with yourself after I'm gone. Don't want you wearing my pussy out before I've had a chance to use it." With his hand on the door, Gwenvael rewarded her with the warmest smile she'd seen from anyone. "Besides, you look so beautiful when you come, I don't want to miss a second of it. — G.A. Aiken

DEAR MISS MANNERS:
I a tired of being treated like a child. My father says it's because I am a child
I am twelve-and-a-half years old
but it still isn't fair. If I go into a store to buy something, nobody pays any attention to me, or if they do, it's to say, "Leave that alone," "Don't touch that," although I haven't done anything. My money is as good as anybody's, but because I am younger, they feel they can be mean to me. It happens to me at home, too. My mother's friend who comes over after dinner sometimes, who doesn't have any children of her own and doesn't know what's what, likes to say to me, "Shouldn't you be in bed by now,dear?" when she doesn't even know what my bedtime is supposed to be. Is there any way I can make these people stop?
GENTLE READER:
Growing up is the best revenge. — Judith Martin

Yesterday you were riding on my shoulders," he murmured. "The house was full of noise. Clomping up and down the steps,doors slamming. Scattered toys. I don't know how many times I stepped on one of those damned little cars of Brady's/"
Turning back, he ran a hand over her hair. "I miss that.I miss all of you."
"Daddy." In one fluid movement she rose and slid her arms around him.
"It's the way it's supposed to work. Three of you off at college, Brendon moving around to get a handle on the busines of things.It's what he wants. And you, building your own.But..I miss the crowd of you."
"I promise to slam the door the very first chance I get."
"That might help."
"Sentimental softie.I love that about you."
"Lucky for me. — Nora Roberts

Or, just ignore it, one day you'll turn forty and you'll slowly realize you don't feel the eyes anymore, and the freedom is a relief, but you'll also sort of miss it, and when a truck driver whistles at you while you're crossing the road, you'll think, Really? For me? It had seemed like a really genuine, friendly whistle too. It was a little humiliating just how much time she'd devoted to analyzing that whistle. — Liane Moriarty

B-b-but who will I have cleaning marathons with?"
"Casey. I'll be there in spirit."
"She's not neurotic and cranky like you."
"You'll miss that, ay?"
"Hell yes, I'll miss that! When you're obsessive and pissy, you tell those floors who's boss. They won't shine like that when Casey scrubs them. And don't get me started on our Covenant Series discussions. The girl thinks Alex should pick Seth. Seth, Em. How can I clean with someone who isn't Team Aiden? It's like ... madness. Madness on Earth. The fucking apocalypse - "
"Whitney," I chuckled, squeezing her tighter, "I assure you, you'll survive. The second she starts running her mouth about Aiden, just spray her with bleach. That'll teach her a lesson."
-Emma and Whitney — Rachael Wade

Miss Althea?"
"I don't blame you, Jesse," she said at last, taking control of her whirling emotions. "I must have ... I must have led you astray somehow. But you must never touch me again."
Jesse's disappointment was palpable. "Never?" That seemed impossible. To be
allowed to know how wonderful it was to feel and smell and taste her and then to
never be allowed that again. It was so unfair. Jesse wanted to cry. It was too unfair. — Pamela Morsi

I can't be on too long before I have to stop. If she hadn't left, you'd both be home right now."

Victoria's brow wrinkled.

"I don't understand."

"You take energy from people, from crowds, and you expend more. For you, when you're on, you run like a German engine, no?"

"Right."

"When you go home after the party's over and you haven't had enough attention, you miss it. You crave more."

"Right."

"I don't take in energy like that. People take energy from me. I can be social, I can be on, but I go home for silence and solitude, not because it's time for the party to end. I don't want to hear another person's voice for three days so I can recharge. Like a battery. — Moriah Jovan

And you thought you'd honk Shay off real good by asking the man at the top of her Most Hated list." "She doesn't hate you." "Could've fooled me." "Well, you haven't fooled anybody, least of all me." Miss Lucy's eyes, magnified by the bottle glasses, narrowed knowingly. Travis looked toward the darkening sky and clamped his jaw. "Don't know what you're talking about." "Don't be contrary with me, Travis McCoy. I've known you since you were running around this place in nothing but a diaper. You're still in love with Shay. — Denise Hunter

I'm more selective now I've got a family. I don't want to work all the time. My daughter's 12; I don't want to miss out on her life. Soon she'll be a teenager; she won't want me around. — Julie Walters

I know I'll miss her every single day, but the memories she left won't haunt me anymore. I'll remember the girl who never wore shoes, and our blood promise to always be friends. I'll remember girls who loved and trusted each other, protected each other, and sometimes even hurt each other.
I'll remember a friendship that will never go away. — Jennifer Shaw Wolf

But more than anything, as a little girl, I wanted to be exactly like Miss Piggy. She was ma heroine. I was a plucky little girl, but I never related to the rough-and-tumble icons of children's lit, like Pippi Longstocking or Harriet the Spy. Even Ramona Quimby, who seemed cool, wasn't somebody I could super-relate to. She was scrawny and scrappy and I was soft and sarcastic. I connected instead to Miss - never 'Ms.' - Piggy; the comedienne extraordinaire who'd alternate eye bats with karate chops, swoon over girly stuff like chocolate, perfume, feather boas or random words pronounced in French, then, on a dmie, lower her voice to 'Don't fuck with me, fellas' decibel when slighted. She was hugely feminine, boldly ambitious, and hilariously violent when she didn't get way, whether it was in work, love, or life. And even though she was a pig puppet voiced by a man with a hand up her ass, she was the fiercest feminist I'd ever seen. — Julie Klausner

What a nice child she is, Miss Honey thought. I don't care what her father said about her, she seems very quiet and gentle to me. And not a bit stuck up in spite of her brilliance. — Roald Dahl

When will you ask for your post back?" he whispered in her ear. "I miss the smell of
industrial-strength solvents."
She laughed softly. "Soon. And when will you have papers read at the mathematical society
again? I rather like having my husband called a genius for reasons that are not clear to me."
My husband. The words rolled off her tongue, easy and beautiful. He kissed her fervently.
"Soon. My brilliance quite overflowed on the way home. I have four notebooks to show for
it."
"Good. We don't want people to think I love you for your looks alone."
"In that case we should also put you in some rather revealing gowns once in a while, so that
people don't think I married you for your accomplishments alone. — Sherry Thomas

And mostly I just want to be sure you don't come to me to discuss your romantic entanglements. I much prefer that you remain on comfortable terms with Miss Cavanaugh. Although, should she ever become unavailable," Jackaby said earnestly,"I want you to know"-he put a hand gently on my shoulder-"that Douglas is an excellent listener. — William Ritter

Are your ass cheeks touching my desk right now?" "You don't even insult me the normal way that you used to," she said. "I actually miss that." I pulled out a box of Clorox wipes. — Whitney G.

The tide will turn, Miss Willow." A smile lurked around his mouth, but no, that was not possible, that the earl of Tiern-Cope should smile, and at her.
"It hasn't yet."
"You may find the sea casts you onto the shores of paradise." His voice was low and soft, and Olivia felt her heart stir at the sound. "Or through the very gates of hell."
"So it might." She gave herself a mental shake. Lord Tiern-Cope could not possibly be flirting with her. Impossible. "But that won't stop me from embracing this moment in all its beautiful perfection."
"With but one flaw, Miss Willow."
"Whatever could that be?"
"Don't even try to tell me I don't spoil the present perfection of your moment." The corner of his lip twitched and then gave up. He smiled, and she, perverse creature that she was, felt like she'd been tossed off a cliff with him standing at the bottom to catch her. — Carolyn Jewel

Captain Owen Hartford, at your service." He tipped his hat.
Oh, so it was going to be like this, was it? She searched her memory for a good name. "Patience Corntower. Of Thorny Hollow way."
His grin went wide. "We are well acquainted. You may not recollect me."
"But I do, sir. Quite clearly."
Something flickered in his gaze. "Would the miss be available for a short walk on the pier?"
"In the middle of a battle?" Her eyes went wide and she tried not to laugh. "Aren't you supposed to be getting something amputated?"
"Shhh." He held up a finger, eyes crinkled at the corners. "Don't break character. — Mary Jane Hathaway

Miss Cornelia dropped in that afternoon, puffing a little.
"I don't mind the world or the devil much, but the flesh does rather bother me," she admitted. "You always look as cool as a cucumber, Anne, dearie. Do I smell cherry pie? If I do, ask me to stay to tea ... — L.M. Montgomery

Can you read my thoughts?" she asked them.
"Are you talking to me?" Lee said.
"To all of you. Can you read my thoughts?"
"What are you trying to do - get me sent to seclusion?"
"Go to hell", Helene said pleasantly.
"Don't look at me," Miss Coral said, with the genteel horror of a countess visiting an abattoir, "I can't even read my own. — Joanne Greenberg

Anderson!" he snapped murderously, "if you can tear your attention from Miss Danner's bust, the rest of us will be able to finish this meeting." Lauren flushed a vivid pink, but the elderly Anderson turned a purple hue that might be indicative of an impending stroke.
As soon as the last staff member had filed out of the conference room, Lauren ignored Mary's warning look and turned furiously on Nick. "I hope you're satisfied!" she hissed furiously. "You not only humiliated me, you nearly gave that poor old man a heart attack.What do you plan to do for an encore?"
"Fire the first woman who opens her mouth," Nick retorted coldly. He walked around her and strode out of the conference room.
Outraged past all reason, Lauren started after him, but Mary stopped her. "Don't argue with him," she said, gazing after Nick with a beatific smile on her face. She looked as if she had just witnessed a miracle. "In his present mood he'd fire you, and he'd regret that for the rest of his life. — Judith McNaught

Before even when she lay in bed looking frail and weak she still managed to make me feel safe. Mothers do that don't they? Their very presence can help. And even if I ended up mothering her in the final days, she still was taking care of me. I miss her. — Cecelia Ahern

I miss her every now and then, but finally, she didn't move me. I don't know, sometimes I think I've got this hard kernel in my heart, and nothing much can get inside it. — Haruki Murakami

She leaned in and hugged me. "I know. Thanks. I love you, too. And for the record, Cheyenne and Landon are soul mates and if they don't end up together, I want you to find a poltergeist to haunt the Easton Heights writers."
She pulled back, smiling at me, then reaching out to ruffle Lend's hair. "Take care of each other, you two obnoxious kids."
Then, throwing her shoulders back and staring straight forward, she walked through the gate. I watched, dreading seeing her turn into dust or something, but gasped in relief and joy as her ruined, unnaturally preserved body blossomed into something new, something strong and proud and undeniably alive.
She turned back, just once, and although she was nearly unrecognizable, I could see our Arianna in her smile that managed to maintain its trademark ironic twist.
"I'm going to miss her," I said.
"What?" Lend shouted.
"I said, I'm going to miss her!"
"I can't hear you! I'm going to miss her! — Kiersten White

You'd like some soothin', wouldn't you, Mr. Fairfax?" she asked in a sympathetic voice. A raw chuckle left his throat as he thought of Emma forcing this poor little minx into a calico dress and an old lady's snood. "I sure would, Callie," he answered honestly, "but I'm afraid there's only one woman I want." A mischievous grin curved Callie's mouth. "Miss Emma?" "The same," Steven admitted with a sigh, "but don't you tell her. I want this to be our little secret." Callie sat down in the chair Emma always occupied when she read to him. He found himself missing that redheaded hellcat with a fierce keenness, as though they'd been parted a month instead of a few hours. "She got real upset, Miss Emma did," Callie confided in a happy whisper, "when I came over here and told her Miss Chloe'd sent me to look after you." Steven laughed. "Good," he replied, staring out the window at the sun. It seemed to be immersing itself in the far side of the lake. "I'm making progress." Callie — Linda Lael Miller

Do you know that she came here Monday afternoon and spent some hours in this house?" "Yes, I know." "Do you know what she came for?" "I know nothing definite. I have heard conjectures." "I won't ask you from whom or what. I am aware, Miss Duday, that in coming here this evening you people were impelled only partly by the threat of a legal action by Mrs. Jaffee. You also hoped to learn what Miss Eads came to see me for and what she said. I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. I have given a complete report to the police, or Mr. Goodwin has, and if they don't care to publish it neither do I. But I will ask you, do you know of any reason why, on Monday, Miss Eads should have decided to seek seclusion? Was she being harassed or frightened by anyone?" "On Monday?" "Yes. — Rex Stout

Tell me, Miss Hathaway ... what would you do if you were invited on a midnight ride across the earth and ocean? Would you choose the adventure, or stay safely at home?"
She couldn't seem to tear her gaze from his. The topaz eyes were lit by a glint of playfulness, not the innocent mischief of a boy, but something far more dangerous. She could almost believe he might actually change form and appear beneath her window one night, and carry her away on midnight wings ...
"Home, of course," she managed in a sensible tone. "I don't want adventure."
"I think you do. I think in a moment of weakness, you might surprise yourself."
"I don't have moments of weakness. Not that kind, at any rate."
His laughter curled around her like a drift of smoke. "You will. — Lisa Kleypas

Naw, I say. Mr , can tell you, I don't like it at all. What is it to like? He git up on you, heist your nightgown round your waist, plunge in. Most times I pretend I ain't there. He never know the difference. Never ast me how I feel, nothing. Just do his business, get off, go to sleep.
She start to laugh. Do his business, she say. Do his business. Why, Miss Celie. You make it sound like he going to the toilet on you.
That's what it feel like, I say.
She stop laughing. — Alice Walker

I said, Quiet!"
Tiffany was so much startled by this peremptory reminder that she gasped, and stood staring up at the Nonesuch as though she could not believe that he was speaking not to his cousin, but actually to her. She drew in her breath audibly, and clenched her hands. Miss Trent cast a look of entreaty at sir Waldo, but he ignored it. He strolled up to the infuriated beauty, and pushed up her chin.
"Now, you may listen to me, my child!" he said sternly. "You are becoming a dead bore, and I don't tolerate bores. Neither do I tolerate noisy tantrums. Unless you want to be soundly smacked, enact me no ill-bred scenes!"
There was a moment's astonished silence. Laurence broke it, seizing his cousin's hand, and fervently shaking it.
"I knew you was a right one!" he declared. "A great gun, Waldo! Damme, a Trojan! — Georgette Heyer

Miss Velvet."
"Lord, darlin'. You're the only man in this state who would tip his hat to a whore." She ushered the other women along and stopped beside Jake. "You haven't been back to see me, darlin'."
"No, ma'am."
"You won't be coming back to see me, will you?"
He shook his head. "No, ma'am. I won't."
She smiled, a warm, pretty smile. "It's just as well. A man like you, darlin', shouldn't have to pay a woman. You take care of yourself now, you hear?"
He returned her smile. "Yes, ma'am. I will."
She reached out, touching the raised comer of his mouth with the tip of her finger. "Lord, darlin', I don't know how any woman could walk away from that smile. — Lorraine Heath

Irene and my aunt want from me what Miss Emma wants from Jefferson,' I said. 'I don't know if Miss Emma ever had anybody in her past that she could be proud of. Possibly - maybe not. But she wants that now, and she wants it from him. Irene and my aunt want it from me. Miss Emma knows that the state of Louisiana is about to take his life, but before that happens she wants something to remember him by. Irene and my aunt know that one day I will leave them, but they are not about to let me go without a fight. It's the same thing, the very same thing. Miss Emma needs a memory. Do you want she told me when I sat on the bed? That Reverend Ambrose and I should get along, and together - together - we should try and reach Jefferson. Why not the soul? No, she wants memories, memories of him standing like a man. — Ernest J. Gaines

I think she's afraid to even hug me now. It's my fault, but I miss it, Andrew. I miss it so much it aches sometimes, you know?'
I do know. I do know, I want to tell him, but I let him talk. And he does, with a gut-wrenching honesty that tears at my heart.
'I want to be held. Is that so wrong? I want to be held, and stroked. I want to know that someone loves me. I want to feel it on my skin.' He looks at the ceiling and exhales, then meets my eyes again. 'But nobody touches me anymore. Not even when I have a fever. Mom just hands me a thermometer now.' He drops his eyes and his ears redden. 'Even when you kiss me, you don't touch me. It's like I'm a leper or something. I can hardly keep my hands off of you, but it's not the same for you, is it? — J.H. Trumble