She Runs Quotes & Sayings

Dorian's going to love this."
She glared. "I swear to God, you tell him, and I'll" - what the hell could you threaten an alpha with? - "I'll tell Hawke you want to go on daily bonding runs with him. — Nalini Singh

Peeta rolls his eyes at Haymitch. "She has no idea. The effect she can have."
He runs his fingernail along the wood grain in the table, refusing to look at me. — Suzanne Collins

You do not know me if you think I'd hide. I'm in the light. I am free. Where is my beautiful woman? She runs from her heart. Yet you run through my veins. Your fire burns inside me. I run with you. — Imogen Maud

I've got data incoming. Do you want me to transfer it to my portable unit?"
"No, you stay here, finish the runs. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. When you're done with this, I want you to go find a hammer."
Peabody had taken out her memo book, nearly plugged in the order, when she stopped, frowned up at Eve. "Sir? A hammer?"
"That's right. A really big, heavy hammer. Then you take it into my office and beat that fucking useless excuse for a data spitter on my desk to dust."
"Ah." Because she was a wise woman, Peabody cleared her throat rather than loosen the chuckle. "As an alternate to that action, Lieutenant, I could call maintenance. — J.D. Robb

When a mother loses a daughter, she grieves over the future that her daughter will never have, but she can take solace in memories of close-knit days. But when your daughter runs away, it is the fond memories that have been laid to rest; and your daughter's future, alive and well, recedes from you like a wave drawing out to sea. — Amor Towles

If she were religious, she would call it the soul. It is more than the sum of her intellect and her emotions, more than the sum of her experiences, though it runs like veins of brilliant metal through all three. It is an inner faculty that recognizes the animating mysteries of the world because it is made of the same substance — Michael Cunningham

Oh, for fuck's sake. The Chevy Matiz - whose idea was it? Four doors, shaped like a shoe, and all the reliability of his grandmother's digestive tract. Whether she'd been constipated or had the runs, it was always ugly, and her mood had been to match. — Amy Lane

Donald Trump is a big Christmas gift wrapped under the tree for Hillary Clinton. She desperately hopes she runs against Donald Trump. I, however, am the lump of coal in Mrs. Clinton's stocking, and she desperately hopes she does not run against me. — Carly Fiorina

She thinks that he looks like Elvis, when he runs his fingers through that jet black hair. — Joe Diffie

An orphan is nobody's child, For he or she sees no daddy's smile. An orphan is always left disowned, For he or she is always bemoaned. An orphan hangs around the streets, For he or she has nothing to eat. An orphan runs around on bare feet, For no one listens to their heart beat. An orphan has no one to call his or her own, For he or she is all alone. An orphan is the result of one's exile, For he or she has no domicile. An orphan has never seen affection, For they are the result of someone's — Kisan Upadhaya

Bah!" Magnus scoffed. "Humans always blame dwarves. A baby goes missing and it was a dwarf that stole it. A princess runs off with a second son of a king and it was a dwarf who lured her to a deep prison. And when they find her with the prince - lo, she was rescued!
"A king is stabbed in the back in his own chapel, and a princess's tower
is turned into a death trap," Royce called back to them. "Friends are
betrayed and trapped in a prison - yes, I can see your surprise. Where do they get such ideas?"
"Damn his elven ears," Magnus said. — Michael J. Sullivan

I guess I haven't made it clear how I feel about Charlotte. Well, she puts my heart in a microwave and watches as it warms up and explodes. When I'm around her, my blood runs hot and thick. It's beautiful.
You could say there's nothing special about her. You could make the case.
But, really, she's special because nobody else can do the microwave thing. — Hannah Moskowitz

Are you and Finn more than boss and hired hand?"
"You might say that."
"My ranch is bigger than his," Quaid teased.
"It's not the size of the ranch, darlin;. It's the heart that runs it," she answered. — Carolyn Brown

It is sometimes braver to run. She who runs from her enemies until she has the strength to do otherwise is both brave and wise. — Frank Beddor

One of the masked women imitates the sounds she hears and the ubiquitous tune, as she sways and runs her hand through her hair.
A rutting mare, a slender block of ice, warm for others but not for herself, she seems to be split in two: fire from the waist down, straight lines above.
Growing more sensual by the minute, more labile and smiling, her mask redder, flame is her nest, the flash of her eyes stony gray. — Homero Aridjis

His velvet brush dips deep and lingers there in the warm inkwell of her endless desire. The ink of passion flows for him tonight, so he may show her how it feels for his muse to be so truly needed by an ardent lover.

His hunger to write poems of love's power upon the warm supple parchment of her skin, secret words that only she can comprehend until his brush runs dry and he returns to dip again in ink made by the gods for calligraphy of wanton desire. — Brianna Hughes

An interesting example is that the worst woman in the book, who is so cruel and violent, is the sorceress in "The Prince of the Black Islands." She's a beautiful young woman, and she has turned her husband into stone from the waist down. A traveling sultan finds him, in his dreadful state, and the man petrified from the waist down tells his sad story ... how his wife comes every afternoon and beats him until the blood runs down. She's just unwontedly, arbitrarily cruel. — Marina Warner

She grumbled, she said sarcastically that men place such an enormous importance on fucking, she laughed: not Marcello - although even he doesn't joke - but Michele, who went crazy, he's been obsessed with me for a long time, and even runs after the shadow of my shadow. — Elena Ferrante

The woman who runs the Pennsylvania Innocence Project told me that there's a man she's been trying to get out of prison for 26 years. Every night before she goes to bed, she thinks, 'What is he doing?' She says you don't sleep. And yet, she has the greatest sense of humor and this light that comes out of her. — Richard LaGravenese

Don't tell me about the Press. I know *exactly* who reads the papers. The Daily Mirror is read by the people who think they run the country. The Guardian is read by people who think they *ought* to run the country. The Times is read by the people who actually *do* run the country. The Daily Mail is read by the wives of the people who run the country. The Financial Times is read by people who *own* the country. The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by *another* country. The Daily Telegraph is read by the people who think it is.'

"Prime Minister, what about the people who read The Sun?"

"Sun readers don't care *who* runs the country - as long as she's got big tits. — Antony Jay

Teenagers don't know what love is. They have mixed-up ideas. They go for a drive and the boy runs out of gas and they smooch a little and the girl says she loves him. That isn't love. Love is when you are married twenty-five years, smooching in your living room and he runs out of gas and she says she still loves him. That's love. — Norm Crosby

He had a feeling that somewhere in the course of her life something had happened to her, something terrible which in the end had given her a great understanding and clarity of mind. He knew, too, almost at once, on the day she had driven up to the door of the cottage, that she had made a discovery about life which he himself had made long since . . . that there is nothing of such force as the power of a person content merely to be himself, nothing so invincible as the power of simple honesty, nothing so successful as the life of one who runs alone. Somewhere she had learned all this. She was like a woman to whom nothing could ever again happen. — Louis Bromfield

There's a great scene in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre [1974] that I'm obsessed with: Sally is being chased by Leatherface with a chainsaw. And she runs into thorn bushes. And she's getting tangled up in it because she's running fast. But Sally needs to move slowly in order to get through the bushes - she will get farther faster by going slowly because her hair and clothes won't get tangled and caught. There's something really beautiful about understanding that, while someone's chasing you with a chainsaw, you have to move more slowly in order to get away. — Christopher Bollen

She wasn't made to be alone."
"I guess none of us are."
Our eyes meet and an electric tingle runs through me.
"She missed you," I say in a whisper.
"Did she?" His voice is a soft caress. His gaze into my eyes is so intense that I swear he sees straight into my soul.
"Yes." Warmth flushes my cheeks. I ... "She thought about you all the time."
The candlelight flickers a soft glow along his jawline, along his lips. "I hated losing her." His voice is a low growl. "I hadn't realized just how attached I'd gotten." He reaches and moves a strand of wet hair out of my face. "How dangerously addictive she could be. — Susan Ee

There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly. Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we'll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life. — Pema Chodron

So what are you thinking?" I asked.
I meant about the case, obviously, but Cassie was in a giddy mood
she generates more energy than most people, and she'd been sitting indoors most of the day.
"Will you listen to him? A woman asking a guy what he's thinking is the ultimate crime, she's clingy and needy and he runs a mile, but when it's the other
"
"Behave yourself," I said, pulling her hood over her face.
"Help! I'm being oppressed!" she yelled through it. "Call the Equality Commission." The stroller girl gave us a sour look.
"You're overexcited," I told Cassie. "Calm down or I'll take you home with no ice cream. — Tana French

That's what I like most about her; she isn't fearless. She's scared, but she keeps fighting. She has moments of doubt, when she runs away, but she comes back. She doesn't give up. Sometimes she fails, she falls down, she makes mistakes. She's real. — Jen Wilde

I hope when this is done I'll be able to get back into my happy gardening vibe that was so healthy for me. I want to go back to my routine and my morning ritual with the compost, but it will probably be that my life will split in two. New Leaf Gardening in Wood Green will be happening in parallel to a fantasy that runs along the bottom of that screen like a ticker. Alice will be fine. Rabbit will stay up tonight, and every night. Resending and resending, reopening the page to see if she has responded, if anyone has. The spinning wheel will make my eyes hurt and everything else will go dark. — Olivia Sudjic

The woman who is too nice senses that he "needs her" and she runs to his aid like a Red Cross rescue missionary. And she gives - blindly. — Sherry Argov

No use, no use!' said the King. 'She runs so fearfully quick. You might as well try to catch a Bandersnatch! But I'll make a memorandum about her, if you like-she's a dear good creature,' he repeated softly to himself, as he opened his memorandum-book. 'Do you spell "creature" with a double "e"? — Lewis Carroll

I can appreciate that," says Henry. He's adding to the list. I look over his shoulder. Sex Pistols, the Clash, Gang of Four, Buzzcocks, Dead Kennedys, X, the Mekons, the Raincoats, the Dead Boys, New Order, the Smiths, Lora Logic, the Au Pairs, Big Black, Pil, the Pixies, the Breeders, Sonic Youth ...
Henry, they're not going to be able to get any of that up here." He nods, and jots the phone number and address for Vintage Vinyl at the bottom of the sheet. "You do have a record player, right?"
My parents have one," Bobby says. Henry winces.
What do you really like?" I ask Jodie. I feel as though she's fallen out of the conversation during the male bonding ritual Henry and Bobby are conducting.
Prince," she admits. Henry and I let out a big Whoo! And I start singing "1999" as loud as I can, and Henry jumps up and we're doing a bump and grind across the kitchen. Laura hears us and runs off to put the actual record on and just like that, it's a dance party. — Audrey Niffenegger

Memorizing dialogue has always come easy and quickly to me. My wife Eileen is also very helpful. She gives me choices, and asks me questions, and runs my lines with me. — Bill Mumy

Sure, swing your oscillating dick over there, and see how long you last before she runs screaming for the authorities. — J.A. Belfield

Is this how you will die? Is this what you were meant for? To simply be bled out like a pig?
A spark of rage flickers, an antidote to despair.
Will you not even try to survive? Did the scientists make you too stupid even to consider fighting for your own life?
Emiko closes her eyes and prays to Mizuko Jizo Bodhisattva, and then the bakeneko cheshire spirit for good measure. She takes a breath, and then with all her strength she slams her hand against the knife. The blade slices past her neck, a searing line.
"Arai wa?!" the man shouts.
Emiko shoves hard against him and ducks under his flailing knife. Behind her, she hears a grunt and thud as she bolts for the street. She doesn't look back. She plunges into the street, not caring that she shows herself as a windup, not caring that in running she will burn up and die. She runs, determined only to escape the demon behind her. She will burn, but she will not die passive like some pig led to slaughter. — Paolo Bacigalupi

What's with savage humans always wanting to cannibalize us?" Jaden asks as she runs past Summer to check for any more of the Tainted around the corner.
"They want to suck your blood," Rob says in a Romanian accent.
Jaden snorts. Too bad humor won't help them out of this mess. — Laura Kreitzer

How do you look for someone who announces she won't be found, who always leaves clues that lead nowhere, who runs away constantly? You can't! — John Green

What'll happen is," Alex McClean advises, "is you'll get hammer'd paying double taxes, visits all the time from Sheriffs of both provinces looking for their quitrents, tax collectors from Philadelphia and Annapolis, and sooner or later you'll have to decide just to get it up on some Logs, and roll it, one way or the other. Depends how your Property runs, I'd guess." ". . . as North is pretty much up-hill," Mr. Price is reckoning," 'twould certainly not be as easy, to roll her up into Pennsylvania, as down into Maryland." "Where I am no longer your Wife," she reminds him. "Aye, and there's another reason," he nods soberly. "Well then, let's fetch the Boys and get to it, - 'tis Maryland, ho! — Thomas Pynchon

When you find him, his name will course through your veins. Olivia courses through mine. She runs through my heart and my brain and my fingers and my penis. — Tarryn Fisher

This simple fact explains an awful lot about the biology and conservation of bumblebees. They have to eat almost continually to keep warm; a bumblebee with a full stomach is only ever about forty minutes from starvation. If a bumblebee runs out of energy, she cannot fly, and if she cannot fly, she cannot get to flowers to get more food, so she is doomed — Dave Goulson

holy scripture was believed to justify her subordination and explain her inferiority; for even as a copy she was not a very good copy. There were differences. She was not one of His best efforts. There is a line in an old folk song that runs: 'I called my donkey a — Elaine Morgan

To and fro, to and fro over the fine red sand on the floor of the dove house, walked the two doves. One was always in front of the other. One ran forward, uttering a little cry, and the other followed, solemnly bowing and bowing. "You see," explained Anne, "the one in front, she's Mrs. Dove. She looks at Mr. Dove and gives that little laugh and runs forward, and he follows her, bowing and bowing. — Katherine Mansfield

I couldn't think of anything other than her and the components of her. For example, her red hair. But was I so primitive I let myself be bewitched by hair? I mean, really. Hair! It's just hair! Everyone has it! She puts it up, she lets it down. So what? And why did all the other parts of her have me wheezing with delight? I mean, who hasn't got a back, or a belly, or armpits? This whole finicky obsession serves to humiliate me even as I write it, sure, but I suppose it isn't that abnormal. That's what first love is all about. What happens is you meet a love object and immediately a hole inside you starts aching, the hole that is always there but you don't notice until someone comes along, plugs it up, and then runs away with the plug. — Steve Toltz

lift, not even for an instant, as she runs a comb through my — Veronica Roth

Still, a part of me will never stop thinking of her as my sergeant. She's the toughest, most competent, and most evenhanded soldier I've known, and she runs her squad as a strict meritocracy. If only a tenth of the military consisted of people like Sergeant Fallon, we would have kicked the SRA off of every inhabited celestial body between Earth and Zeta Reticuli fifty years ago already. As things stand, we're weighed down by people like Major Unwerth, who coast through the system doing only the expected minimum. If a military is the reflection of the society it serves, it's amazing that the Commonwealth is still at the top of the food chain on Terra. Even with all the dead wood in our ranks, we have been able to hold the line against the SRA and the dozens of regional powers in the Middle East and the Pacific Rim that are short on resources and long on grievances with their neighbors. — Marko Kloos

Because it feels like her air just became my air and I suddenly want to take in fewer breaths in order to ensure she never runs out. — Colleen Hoover

I once again felt an odd flush of admiration for my partner's faith in a religion I had long ago abandoned. She doesn't advertise it or announce it at every turn, and she has nothing but scorn for the patriarchal hierarchy that runs the church, but she nevertheless holds firm to a belief in the religion and ritual with a quiet intensity that can't be shaken. — Dennis Lehane

Don't say a woman is crazy just because she runs away from her wedding. — Bill Maher

Yeah yeah," h said. "I waited. She was decent. Although technically, she's still naked."
"You're sch a perv," she turned on to me. "Okay, kitty. Lead on. We'll try to keep up."
"Yeah,good luck with that," Rafe said. "If she runs, we're history. — Kelley Armstrong

Craig can't bear it. He opens his eyes, looks over to Tariq, who has tears in his own eyes. He mimes writing. Tariq scrambles for a marker and some paper. He runs over to Craig. All the things Craig has to say boil down to the essential ...
I'M GAY, MOM. I'M GAY.
Craig rotates his and Harry's bodies so he's facing his mother. Then he holds up his shaky sign. He sees her eyes as she understands it. — David Levithan

There's this guy in my club, Pigpen. He's about the same age as Ms. Whitlock, late twenties, and he's a walking hard-on for this woman even though she would never give him the time of day. He practically runs into walls when she's around because he's too focused on checking her out. — Katie McGarry

As mothers and daughters, we are connected with one another. My mother is the bones of my spine, keeping me straight and true. She is my blood, making sure it runs rich and strong. She is the beating of my heart. I cannot now imagine a life without her. — Kristin Hannah

Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck. — William Shakespeare

If a girl starts out all casual with a guy and she doesn't tell him that she wants a relationship, it will never become a relationship. If you give the guy the impression that casual is okay with you, that's all he'll ever want. Be straight with him from the start. If he gets scared and runs away, he wasn't right for you. — Susane Colasanti

My mother is no longer shouting or shaking me, but she is still holding me very tightly. Even though I didn't speak out loud, she heard me and understood. "Don't you know?" she asks me back. "Don't you know who you are?" Tears are sliding down her cheeks and falling off onto my face. I never knew how hot someone else's tears feel. "You're part of me," she says, as if it is the deepest truth she knows. "You're all the family I have. The only person I can count on. You're flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood, my only baby, and nothing else comes close to that. Nothing."
And then she runs out of words, so she just clings to me, and not all the doctors in the world can pull her away. — David Klass

Mum's a worrier, she looked after everybody apart from herself - I think it runs in the family. — Gail Porter

Cosette was not very timid by nature. There flowed in her veins some of the blood of the bohemian and the adventuress who runs barefoot. It will be remembered that she was more of a lark than a dove. There was a foundation of wildness and bravery in her — Victor Hugo

She has a bookshelf for a heart, and ink runs through her veins, she'll write you into her story with the typewriter in her brain. Her bookshelf's getting crowded. With all the stories that's she's penned, of all the people who flicked through her pages but closed the book before it ended. And there's one pushed to the very back, that sits collecting dust, with its title in her finest writing, 'The One's Who Lost My Trust'. There's books shes scared to open, and books she doesn't close. Stories of every person she's met stretched out in endless rows. Some people have only one sentence while others once held a main part, thousands of inky footprints that they've left across her heart. You might wonder why she does this, why write of people she once knew? But she hopes one day she'll mean enough for someone to write about her too. — E.H.

subordination and explain her inferiority; for even as a copy she was not a very good copy. There were differences. She was not one of His best efforts. There is a line in an old folk song that runs: 'I called my donkey a horse gone wonky.' Throughout most of the — Elaine Morgan

When a woman gives birth her waters break and she pours out the child and the child runs free. — Jeanette Winterson

Because - truth? - on the scale of significance, that stuff doesn't even register.
What has me pushed past the boiling point ... what has me really, really upset is learning the woman I thought was so incredibly strong I married her on the spot ... is actually
a quitter who runs from challenge,
a coward too afraid to even try,
a liar who makes promises she won't keep and
a cynic too bitter to believe what's right in front of her face. Is that real enough for you? — Mira Lyn Kelly

I definitely like it
lips and mouths and tongues together. When my tongue runs over my own lips, I can taste her there, and it's as if she's laid claim to me. — Shay Savage

Afraid of a needle." he muttered to himself under his breath, shaking his head. "Oh, a sadistic vampire, intent on torturing her to death, sure, no problem, she runs off to meet him. An IV, on the other hand ... "
Edward Cullen — Stephenie Meyer

She'll forgive you. That love you have for her? It runs deeper than any hate, and it takes so much more to hate someone than to love them. Hate is so exhausting. Trust me, I know. — Jewel E. Ann

In Into the Woods, Cinderella runs from her prince, Rapunzel is thrown from a tower for her prince, and Sleeping Beauty just thought she was getting coffee with Bill Cosby. — Tina Fey

Finally, to hinder the description of illness in literature, there is the poverty of the language. English, which can express the thoughts of Hamlet and the tragedy of Lear, has no words for the shiver and the headache. It has all grown one way. The merest schoolgirl, when she falls in love, has Shakespeare or Keats to speak her mind for her; but let a sufferer try to describe a pain in his head to a doctor and language at once runs dry. There is nothing ready made for him. He is forced to coin words himself, and, taking his pain in one hand, and a lump of pure sound in the other (as perhaps the people of Babel did in the beginning), so to crush them together that a brand new word in the end drops out. Probably it will be something laughable. — Virginia Woolf

My commitment runs deep, and there's no end to it. She's inside me, wrapped around me like a tumor. There's no way to cut her away without cutting into me. Without killing me. — Laurelin Paige

When I got with Nina Greenberg, I had been running for a few months already without a trainer. But then she gave me a program and guided me through my runs, showing me how to take care of myself and letting me know I should ice my legs and stretch - stuff I hadn't been doing. — Flea

She's called the secretary, but as far as I can tell she basically runs the school. — Rebecca Stead

You can't marry her," Araminta insisted.
Benedict turned to his mother. "Is there any reason I need to consult Lady Penwood about this?"
"None that I can think of," Lady Bridgerton replied.
"She is nothing but a whore," Araminta hissed. "Her mother was a whore, and blood runs - urp!"
Benedict had her by the throat before anyone was even aware that he had moved. "Don't," he warned, "make me hit you."
The magistrate tapped Benedict on the shoulder. "You really ought to let her go."
"Might I muzzle her?"
The magistrate looked torn, but eventually he shook his head. — Julia Quinn

My latex-covered fingers tighten as the warmth abandons them. Mom swears she stored a bag of rice in the underground bunker, but I can't find anything resembling food. A shiver runs down my spine while I move empty crates around. Some light would really help. — Anya Monroe

My wife runs the house much better than I could so I think she could be a linesman or a referee or even a football manager and that's the truth. — Ian Holloway

Hunger, she often tells me, has nothing to do with the belly and everything to do with the mind. What Mary really runs isn't a bakery, but a community. — Jodi Picoult

I have seen American determination in people like Debbi Sommers. She runs a furniture rental business for conventions in Las Vegas. When 9/11 hit, and again, when the recession tanked the conventions business, she didn't give up, close down, or lay off her people. She taught them not just to rent furniture, but also to manufacture it. — Mitt Romney

And why is Saint Paula a Saint? She dumps her four kids at a convent. She runs off to Hajira with Saint Jerome. How is that a saint?
You've got shitty mothers all over America who would love to dump their kids and travel. — Amy Bloom

How can this dog be such an easy victim? A dog who was mistreated by her previous owner over and over again. Why doesn't she recognize evil when she runs straight into its arms? Because she has the ability to forget. Burrows down into the feathery snow and is pleased to see anyone who streches out a hand to her. And now she is lying here. — Asa Larsson

You can argue that it's a different world now than the one when Matthew Shepard was killed, but there is a subtle difference between tolerance and acceptance. It's the distance between moving into the cul-de-sac and having your next door neighbor trust you to keep an eye on her preschool daughter for a few minutes while she runs out to the post office. It's the chasm between being invited to a colleague's wedding with your same-sex partner and being able to slow-dance without the other guests whispering. — Jodi Picoult

If my opinion runs more than twenty pages," she said, "I am disturbed that I couldn't do it shorter." The mantra in her chambers is "Get it right and keep it tight." She disdains legal Latin, and demands extra clarity in an opinion's opening lines, which she hopes the public will understand. "If you can say it in plain English, you should," RBG says. Going through "innumerable drafts," the goal is to write an opinion where no sentence should need to be read twice. "I think that law should be a literary profession," RBG says, "and the best legal practitioners regard law as an art as well as a craft. — Irin Carmon

Well, let's say Asian. Some are Japanese. Some are Chinese. Some are Thai. Some are Vietnamese. He runs the gamut. And I actually happen to have a very dear daughter-in-law who's Japanese. I don't know what she's going to make of the film, but I say a few disparaging things. — Jacki Weaver

I'm starting to think that most villains aren't evil - they are just misundertood.
Or victims of that manipulative force: Love.
Love causes war and causes death, breaks souls and breaks lives. It runs people into the ground, makes them behave like moronic, immoral beasts, before it dances off, leaving only destruction in its wake - hearts blown wide open for the whole world to see.
Love puts the blame on the poor souls who succumb to it.
Love, that ultimate villainess. She makes examples of us all.
And yet we still come back for more.
We keep playing the role she gives us.
For one more chance to feel alive. — Karina Halle

With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. A burly rough pursues with booted strides. He stumbles on the steps, recovers, plunges into gloom. Weak squeaks of laughter are heard, weaker.)_ THE BAWD: _(Her wolfeyes shining)_ — James Joyce

Virtue runs before the muse,
and defies her skill;
she is rapt and doth refuse
to wait a painter's will. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

She runs up into the light surprised
Her arms are opened
Her mind's eye is
Seeing things from a better side than most can dream — Dave Matthews

And it's California, where everything is powerfully strange. Everyone wants it to be home. Everyone left where he or she was from with dreams of transformation. Everyone runs away to California at least once, or at least all the lonely, hungry people do. — Marya Hornbacher

It often runs in families," she remarked: "just as a love for pastry does. — Lewis Carroll

She Snores," said Siku, looking at me. "You better get earplugs. That kind of thing runs in the family."

I opened my mouth, glancing at Caleb, whose eyes got wide in disbelief. Had Siku made a joke? I was too dumbfounded to reply. — Nina Berry

And besides, we're not really all that different. Although I think I'm a little more ... "
"What?"
"Optimistic." She nudged him with her shoulder. "You're Eeyore."
He blinked. "You think I'm Eeyore?"
"You tell me. I take my empty glass and try to fill it up with what happiness I can find. Friends, family, my work ... And then there's you."
He raised a brow. "Me."
She nudged him again, looking playful and damn sexy while she was at it. It was the short shorts with the boots, he decided. Or everything. It was everything.
"You take that empty glass," she said, happily analyzing him. "And you wonder what the heck to do with it. You don't need the glass, you don't have time for the glass. Hell, you'll just drink from a spigot if you get thirsty. And in any case, there's probably another one up the road if that one runs out, so - — Jill Shalvis

She stands on the cliffs, near the old crumbling stone house. There's nothing left in the house but an upturned table, a ladle, and a clay bowl. She stands for more than an hour, goose-bumped and shivering. At these times, she won't confide in me. She runs her hands over her body, as if checking that it's still there, her heart pulsing and beating. The limbs are smooth and strong, thin and sinewy, her hair long and black and messy and gleaming despite her age. You wouldn't know it to look at her, that she's lived long enough to look for what's across the water. Eighty years later, and she is still fifteen. — Jodi Lynn Anderson

Who was this guy? she found herself asking. Looks like Paul Bunyan, runs a bar, has all these guns, and cleans and launders like Martha Stewart. — Robyn Carr

Very low. It's going to be one of the cast or crew, one of the people who worked with her, one of the people she pushed, insulted, threatened."
"Who pushed back." He got to his feet. "Celebrity murders," he muttered. "They'll probably make another goddamn vid." At Eve's stunned, slightly horrified expression, he smiled. "You could make book on it," he said. "Keep me updated. And don't be late for the media conference."
"Shit," Eve said when he'd gone out. "Shit. He could be right."
"Who'd play me in this one? I mean, it's really wild, isn't it? Somebody playing me investigating the murder of somebody who was playing me. And then there's - "
"Don't. You're giving me a headache. Get those runs done. — J.D. Robb

Then the queenmother said, "I am done with weeping." She whistled for the grey wolves that guarded her keep, and they loped at her heels as she rode around the Inward Sea and south to Ramas, and the way was long and hard. She knelt before her brother, King Thyrse, and begged him to lend this strength to save her son and kingdom from the lamia's stranglehold. But he bade her go hom to her northern keep, saying, "It more befits a woman to weep than to war." She rent her gown and showed under it a corset of steel, saying, "Brother, by our sire and our dame, remember the same blood runs in both our veins. — Sarah Micklem

He is an incredible man, she thought. A chapter of his life comes to a close, Atticus tears down the old house and builds a new one in a new section of town. I couldn't do it. They built an ice cream parlor where the old one was. Wonder who runs it? — Harper Lee

My blood runs cold when she says his name... his last name... the name those people use for him. This isn't right. She doesn't know him. They don't know each other. They can't. "I'm not going to hurt her, Carmela, but I'm not letting her go. — J.M. Darhower

There is not a single untruth, no -but after ten lines Truth shrieks, she runs distraught and disheveled through her temple's corridors; she does not know herself. 'I can endure lies,' she cries. 'I cannot survive this stifling verisimilitude — Thornton Wilder

it feels like her air just became my air and I suddenly want to take in fewer breaths in order to ensure she never runs out. I — Colleen Hoover

Carefully, she stands. And she runs her hand across the top of Thomasina's gravestone as she leaves, like how, as girls, they would let go of hands - gradually, moving their fingertips over each other's palms, as gently as raindrops. She has done this for sixty-eight years and there is a dip on the stone from this. She has worn the stone down with her loving goodbyes. — Susan Fletcher

I suspect unconscious bias has been far more of a factor for President Obama than overt racism and will also be a challenge for Hillary Rodham Clinton if she runs for president again. — Nicholas Kristof

Love's night and a lamp
Judged our vows:
That she would love me ever
And I should never leave her.
Love's night and you, lamp,
Witnessed the pact.
Today the vow runs:
"Oaths such as these, waterwords."
Tonight, lamp,
Witness her lying
- In other arms. — Meleager

And so, now, she runs. In her running, her mind leaves her.
And she can hear nothing but her heart, the blast making her deaf.
There is a great white silent empty in her running.
She runs. — Lidia Yuknavitch

She's conquered and proved her loyalty runs deep." He flinched. "Real deep if I'm guessing at how far Mason goes in her - — Tijan

I love my family but my family - they're the type of people that never let you forget anything you ever did ... I was in the first grade Christmas play - I'm playing Mary. Now, during the course of the play, I dropped the baby Jesus ... They still talk about this. I go to my family reunion, and one of my cousins just had a baby. So I'm like, 'Oh, that's a cute little baby. Let me hold the baby ... ' And my aunt runs over, 'Don't you give her that baby! You know she dropped the baby Jesus!' — Wanda Sykes