She's The Right Girl Quotes & Sayings

The Corporation would like to apologize for the preceding pages. Of course, it's not all right for girls to behave this way. Sexuality is not meant to be this way - an honest, consensual expression in which a girl might take an active role when she feels good and ready and not one minute before. No. Sexual desire is meant to sell soap. And cars. And beer. And religion. — Libba Bray

In his paradise in Lima he had spent a joyous night with a young girl who was covered with fine, straight down over every millimeter of her Bedouin skin. At dawn, while he was shaving, he looked at her lying naked in the bed, adrift in the peaceful sleep of a satisfied woman, and he could not resist the temptation of possessing her forever with a sacramental act. He covered her from head to foot with shaving lather, and with a pleasure like that of love he shaved her clean with his razor, sometimes using his right hand and sometimes his left as he shaved every part of her body, even the eyebrows that grew together, and left her doubly naked inside her magnificent newborn's body. She asked, her soul in shreds, if he really loved her, and he answered with the same ritual phrase he had strewn without pity in so many hearts throughout his life: More than anyone else in this world. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Ahem",she says. "I figured you were the only kid in the building, so it had to be you."
It's too easy
I can't resist.
"Excuse me" I say somewhat abruptly.
"It's you, right?"
I make George look as confused as possible. "Do I know you?"
Now she starts to doubt herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just, uh, am supposed to meet somebody."
"What does he look like?"
"I don't, um, know. It's, like, an online thing."
I grunt. "Shouldnt you be in school?"
"Shouldnt you be in school?"
"I can't. There's this amazing girl I'm supposed to meet."
She looks me hard. "You jerk. — David Levithan

The girl in the tight black dress was passing by us now, eyeing Wes and walking entirely too slowly. "Hi," she said, and he nodded at her but didn't reply. Knew it, I thought.
Honestly," I said.
What?"
Come on. You have to admit, it's sort of ridiculous."
What is?"
Now that I had to define it, I found myself struggling for the right words. "You know," I said, then figured Kristy had really summed it up best. "The sa-woon."
The what? — Sarah Dessen

If I decide to help you, I want only two things in return. Freedom for my people" - it was what he planned to bargin for all along, and one bargain was good as any other - "and possessiom of the girl."
"I'm afraid she's not on the table," Blue eyes said.
"Of course she isn't on the table," he said confused. "She's right in front of you. — Gene Showalter

Why, Griffin Lott. Shelby said her little girl was smitten with you. Are you smitten with the mama?"
"Her brother's right here, and he's already threatened to punch me."
"She'd be your type," Matt put in.
"My type?"
"Because you don't have a type, as long as she's female."
"Her brother's sitting right here," Griff repeated and applied himself to his beer. — Nora Roberts

Lena's voice grew cold. "I don't understand you. I don't understand people like you, who always choose to blame the woman. If there's two people doing something wrong and one of them's a girl, it's got to be her fault, right? — Paula Hawkins

The incident made her remember the story she had heard about the girl who was raised in a room with no horizontal lines. She couldn't recall whether the story was true or simply a thought experiment, but the room, as she remembered it, was decorated with a series of black verticle stripes on the walls, and the floor and ceiling were curved to give the illusion that the verticle stripes were continuous. On the child's first birthday, the story went, she was taken out of the room. She had learned how to recognize verticle forms, but not horizontal ones, so that if she was situated on a table, say, or a platform, she would crawl right off the edge, but she would never run into the corner of a wall or the leg of a chair. Her condition lasted for about a month before her visual sense finally corrected itself. — Kevin Brockmeier

Let's pick it up," the man behind her said. "How many more of the tranquilizers do you have?"
"Just three," the girl panted.
"Gonna have to restock."
"Right. I'll just ... head down ... to the convenience store, and-" she didn't finish, the strain too much. — Marissa Meyer

Tempting. But you see, I can simply insist on a lifetime contract with none of your silly restrictions, or kill you right now."
"You won't," Shane said. That made Morley's eyes open wide.
"Why not? Jacob and Patience were quite specific - they're concerned for Claire. Not for you, boy."
"Because if you kill me and Eve, you'll make her your enemy. This girl won't stop until she sees you all pay."
Claire had no idea whom he was talking about - she didn't feel like that Claire at all, until she imagined Shane and Eve lying dead on the ground.
Then she understood. "I'd hunt you down," she said quietly. "I'd use every resource I have to do it.
And you know I'd win."
Morley seemed impressed. "She is small, but I see your point, boy. Besides, she has the ear of Amelie, Oliver, and Myrnin; not a combination I would care to test. — Rachel Caine

My mom used to say, 'Life isn't fair,'" said Shadow.

"Of course she did," said Wednesday. "It's one of those things that moms say, right up there with 'If all your friends jumped off a cliff would you do it too?'"

"You stiffed that girl for ten bucks, I slipped her ten bucks," said Shadow, doggedly. "It was the right thing to do."

Someone announced that their plane was boarding. Wednesday stood up. "May your choices always be so clear," he said. — Neil Gaiman

At night, the boy and the girl lie curled around each other in the belly of the ship. He holds her tight when she wakes from another nightmare, her teeth chattering, her ears ringing with the terrified screams of the men and women she left behind on the broken skiff, her limbs trembling with remembered power. "It's all right," he whispers in the darkness. "It's all right." She wants to believe him, but she's afraid to close her eyes. The — Leigh Bardugo

You've dated a shoplifter. A drug addict. A girl who claimed that her roommate kept her locked in a dumpster. She was admitted to Mulberry not too long ago, if I recall, right? They diagnosed her with schizophrenia." Reece nodded reluctantly. "For the record, I only dated her for two months. And also for the record, she's doing a lot better." "Hmm," Camden replied. "There's the one who put salt on all her food then complained incessantly of bloating problems. Oh yeah! And the one who wanted you to tie her up and beat the shit out of her every night." "All right already!" Reece snapped. "I get it. I haven't had the best of luck with normal women. — S. Walden

I can't believe you can create such beauty."
"I can't believe I'm finally looking at my beauty. You can't see it, Lark. I know you can't. Maybe it's a girl thing or your shitty family or you do see it and are just fishing for compliments, but you are too beautiful to get right on paper. No matter how much I try," I said, cupping her face, "I can't make my art look nearly as perfect as you."
"Shit," she whispered. "Did you just think that up because it was fucking brilliant?"
Before I could answer, little Lark stepped up as far as she could on her tippy toes, pulled me down to her, and kissed me hard and deep. The girl claimed my breath like she'd already claimed my heart. No way was I imagining all of her wonderful qualities. I wasn't that damn creative. — Bijou Hunter

Abruptly, she yanked the covers over her crippled one, hiding it from him.
Tohr marched right back over to her, and resolutely pulled the duvet back where it had been. Tracing the badly healed wounds with his fingertips, he met her squarely in the eye.
"You're beautiful. Every inch of you. Don't think for a moment there's anything wrong with you. We clear?"
"But-"
"Nope. I'm not hearing that." Bending down he pressed his lips to her shin, her calf, her ankle, tracing the scars, caressing them. "Beautiful. All of you."
"How can you say that," she whispered blinking back tears.
"Because it's the truth."Straightening, he gave her a final squeeze. "No hiding from me, okay. And after I feed you, I think I'm going to have to show you just how serious I am."
That made her smile ... then laugh a little.
"That's my girl." he murmured. — J.R. Ward

Sorry," I said, realizing I was taking my frustrations out on her. "I'm still getting over Soph," I said, referring to my old prep school friend.
Sophie Price was the most beautiful girl you'd ever met. Seriously. Take it from someone who's met Bar Refaeli in person. Soph was even more stunning. Especially since she'd had a personality makeover. I'd never regret anything as much as I would not making her fall in love with me.
"You can't make anyone fall, Spence. Either they do or they don't."
"I said that out loud?"
"Duh and it's been two years, Spencer. You seriously need to get over her. She's with that Ian guy anyway, right?"
"Right."
"That hot South African guy named Ian," she concluded.
"Thanks."
"That hot saffy named Ian who gives his life to mutilated Ugandan orphans and worships the ground Sophie walks on."
I stopped and glared at her. "That'll do, Bridge. — Fisher Amelie

But no, I'm sorry. I can't end there. I haven't yet said everything I want to say. A little girl is at school, out in the playground with her friends, and she sees a flower and says to her friends, just thinking out loud, wondering gently to herself: Do you think flowers have feelings? And for the rest of the day her friends tease her relentlessly, with every new opportunity that arises. Do flowers have feelings, that's so stupid. Right, flowers have feelings. All day and for the rest of the week: stupid flowers have stupid feelings and that little girl feels she is never going to say anything like that ever again. She has already learned that when you open your heart or express genuine, innocent curiosity or wonder about the world, your friends will pounce on the opportunity and use it to hurt you as viciously as possible and there is nothing anyone can do to protect her. It's simple stories like that that really break my heart. — Jacob Wren

Unlike a photograph, my girl faces are blurry. I want them to be blurry. I always make myself stop from putting them right, for what will it mean? Right for whom? By whose hands? The face of a girl should be blurry. Like she's running. — Lidia Yuknavitch

The words make sense, but deeper than the words is the truth. She's right. If Mabel's talking about the girl who hugged her good-bye before she left for Los Angeles, who laced fingers with her at the last bonfire of the summer and accepted shells from almost-strangers, who analyzed novels for fun and lives with her grandfather in a pink, rent-controlled house in the Sunset that often smelled like cake and was often filled with elderly, gambling men - if she's talking about that girl, then yes, I dissapeared. — Nina LaCour

You're a bit elderly, Abigail, I'll give you that, but I don't think you've ever been dotty in your life, and I'm certainly not finding you dear at the moment - more like diabolical."
Lucetta's lips curved ever so slightly. "I'll wear that frock just to appease you, but don't think I'm going to be happy about it." She turned and stomped out of the room.
"Don't forget the tiara I left beside the dress," Abigail called. "Or the sparkly shoes that are right on the floor, dear."
"I'm not wearing a tiara," Lucetta yelled back. Abigail grinned.
"She's such a dear, sweet girl. Possessed of such a quiet and delicate nature. — Jen Turano

Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."
She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.
"Er - all right."
He cleared his throat.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course. — J.K. Rowling

Bes snorted. "That's okay. I finally came to my senses and found the right girl. Besides, you're a cat. It's your nature to think you're the center of the universe." She stared at him blankly. "But I am the center of the universe." Bes — Rick Riordan

All I cared about then was catching a glimpse of Chairman Mao. I turned my eyes quickly away from Liu to the front of the motorcade. I spotted Mao's stalwart back, his right arm steadily waving. In an instant, he had disappeared. My heart sank. Was that all I would see of Chairman Mao? Only a fleeting glimpse of his back? The sun seemed suddenly to have turned gray. All around me the Red Guards were making a huge din. The girl standing next to me had just pierced the index finger of her right hand and was squeezing blood out of it to write something on a neatly folded handkerchief. I knew exactly the words she was going to use. It had been done many times by other Red Guards and had been publicized ad nauseam: "I am the happiest person in the world today. I have seen our Great Leader Chairman Mao!" Watching her, my despair grew. Life seemed pointless. A thought flickered into my mind: perhaps I should commit suicide? — Jung Chang

Outside the guys' athletic dorms, I attempt to stand in front of Beth as she searches for my brother's room number. Beth wears a cotton T-shirt that hugs her slim form and ends a half inch short of her low-rise jeans. With her smooth skin tempting me in very right, yet wrong, places, I would bet my Jeep that the outfit doesn't have Scott's seal of approval. Don't get me wrong, I love it, and so does every guy walking in and out of the dorms. She's my girl and I prefer to be the only one looking at her. — Katie McGarry

A sound of laughter was heard-they turned sharply. Vera Claythorne was standing in the yard. She cried out in a high shrill voice, shaken with wild bursts of laughter:
"Do they keep bees on this island? Tell me that. Where do we go for honey? Ha! ha!"
They stared at her uncomprehendingly. It was as though the sane well-balanced girl had gone mad right before their eyes. She went on in that high unnatural voice:
"Don't stare like that! As though you thought I was mad. It's sane enough what I'm asking. Bees, hives, bees! Oh, don't you understand? Haven't you read that idiotic rhyme? It's up in all of your bedrooms-put it there for you to study! We might have come here straightaway if we'd had sense. Seven little soldiers chopping up sticks. And the next verse, I know the whole thing by heart, I tell you! Six little soldier boys playing with a hive. And that's why I'm asking-do they keep bees on this island- isn't it damned funny ... ? — Agatha Christie

P.S. I will give you a clue about the person I'm interested in. She gets a very cute dimple in her right cheek when she's trying not to smile. She has a very cute way of pronouncing th, and she wears a cute hat on cold days, which is like a French beret. I once had an appointment with her to Gaze into the Girl's Eyes, which she went and cancelled on me, and I've been waiting all term for a chance to Kiss the Girl. — Jaclyn Moriarty

You really think that's where any of us are headed?" She actually gave him a grin, baring straight white teeth, her face lit by the golden glow of the dawn. It jarred him to realize that Brion had been right - this girl was absolutely gorgeous. "I'll see you in the darklands, Agallon. Save a demon or two for me. — Morgan Rhodes

I say, 'Yeah, Taylor Swift.' I think she is a smart, beautiful girl. I think she's making all the right moves. She's got a good head on her shoulders. She's surrounded with wonderful people. Her songs are great. She keeps herself anchored. She knows who she is, and she's living and standing by that. — Dolly Parton

Sharon had seen a penis, but it was her brother's so it didn't count. Carol was the only girl in our group who had touched a real one....Carol said the penis felt like eyelid skin. Could that be right? For weeks after she told us, I would brush a finger over the skin above my eye and I would marvel that something that was made of boy could be so silky and fine, like tissue paper. — Allison Pearson

Ginger, truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Forgive me for taking the idea from Kai, but I dare you to snog Blake-" She modified the request at the insistent stare from her sister. "Oh, come on! Just the teeniest peck on the lips."
I thought she would still refuse, but apparently she wasn't one to outright turn down a dare. She turned to Blake and pointed a finger at him.
"Try to cop a feel and I'll make Anna's chair flip look angelic," she warned.
He grinned and she leaned in, both closing their eyes as she pressed her lips against his for one, two, three seconds. It appeared innocent, but they were shy when they pulled away and sat back.
"Right," Ginger said, clearing her throat. "My turn. Jay, truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Do you fancy Marna?"
"I'm not sure what that means, but if you're asking if I like her and think she's the most beautiful girl I've ever met and I wish she would move here, then yes."
Marna and I giggled at his brazen, smitten openness. — Wendy Higgins

Guinevere is just head over heels and doesn't know how to handle these new emotions that she's feeling, as a young woman. Unfortunately, she can't reign it all in, all the time. And, even though she tries to do the right thing and be the good girlfriend and have her morals, she slips up a little bit. — Tamsin Egerton

But remember in tenth grade, when I wanted to go out with that junior and you said, 'Eh. I don't think she's the right girl for you'?"

"She wasn't."

"Because she was setting things on fire!" Ric announced loudly, making Gwen burst out laughing and Lock roll his eyes. "I'm serious, Gwen." Ric went on. "And when I say setting things on fire, I mean entire buildings. Mostly schools. She'd been setting them on fire or trying to, for weeks. I didn't find out until the cops came and arrested her during gym class. But does he say to me, 'She's setting things on fire! She's crazy! Stay away from her!' No. He says, 'Eh. I don't think she's the right girl for you.' And he's all calm about it over our chocolate pudding in the cafeteria."

"I don't see the point of getting hysterical. — Shelly Laurenston

I thought, there is nowhere else in the universe I would rather be at this moment ... There is nowhere else I could imagine wanting to be besides here in this car, with this girl, on this road, listening to this song. If she breaks my heart, no matter what hell she puts me through, I can say it was worth it, just because of right now. Out the window is a blur and all I can really hear is this girl's hair flapping in the wind, and maybe if we drive fast enough the universe will lose track of us and forget to stick us somewhere else. — Rob Sheffield

This one girl here, Devon, she's from Detroit. She's brand-new too. One day I was about to leave to the grocery store, which is like a ten-minute walk away. She asked me to pick up a sandwich for her (which was kind of annoying), so I was like, "Why don't you come with me?"
She was like, "I can't, 'cause I can't walk very far."
I was like, "It's not even ten minutes. Come on, don't be lazy - if anything it'll be a mini workout."
She was like, "Ever since I got shot, it hurts when I walk uphill."
(The walk on the way back is pretty much all on an incline.)
I asked her why she got shot. I thought . . . Detroit? Ghetto, right? Probably domestic abuse, or a drug-related thing.
She goes, "I got in a fight over a parking space, and the guy shot me in both of my knees. — Asa Akira

MRS PEARCE. Mr Higgins: youre tempting the girl. It's not right. She should think of the future.
HIGGINS. At her age! Nonsense! Time enough to think of the future when you havnt any future to think of. — George Bernard Shaw

Please let me faint right now, because if I faint I will no longer be here, in this moment. It will be like in movies when a girl passes out from the horror of it all and the fighting happens while she is asleep and she wakes up in a hospital bed with a bruise or two, but she's missed all the bad stuff. I wish that was my life instead of this. — Jenny Han

It was this newsletter thing called "They Walk Among Us" ... All the news that no one in their right mind would ever believe. It's all this stuff about aliens and weird happenings that might be connected to alines. Like, apparently a twelve-year-old girl was murdered in London and people think she might have been a casualty in a secret war between extraterrestrials living on Earth. Totally nuts. — Pittacus Lore

Rosy lifted her arm, tried to say something, then pointed at the cafe, held her head, covered her mouth and - humiliation of humiliations - she began to cry. Right there in the street. "I'm so confused," she said but it came out as a great honking wail.
"Come here, you silly girl," Phyllis said.
The woman put her arms around Rosy, patted her back, and for the first time in forever, Rosy allowed herself to just cry.
A young mother with twins in a pram passed them. The children's eyes tracked Rosy for a second before their faces crumpled and they started to cry too.
"I'm sorry," Rosy said, and flapped her arms. "I'm sorry. — R.G. Manse

Brooke fussed over the wounded lady as they transferred her to the pallet, going so far as to plant a kiss on her brow to praise her bravery.
"What a kiss," Portia complained. "As if I were a child."
Brooke cupped her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly. He released her only when Portia's faint growl of protest melted to a pleased sigh. "There, was that better?"
"Quite." Portia's cheeks pinked.
"All right, then. Now be a good little girl, and lie still."
She swatted at him feebly as he and Denny lifted the pallet - Brooke carrying the end at Portia's head, and Denny lifting her feet. — Tessa Dare

maybe she should take out a book and read, for it don't make no sense to just lean against the shop front, doing nothing, and she start to search in her bag, when she hear Pansy shout, "Lord Jesus! Oh God, help me!" Pansy bawling for help louder and louder, so Grace get frighten. She drop her schoolbag, run quick into the shop, and push on the door to the back room with all her might. After a couple tries, it fly open. Staring at her are one pair of feet with brown socks, one pair of feet with no socks, four legs with no covering and Mortimer's bare bottom rising and falling with a motion that remind her of when he was using the saw. Grace look, turn right around, march out, pick up her school bag, and start walking home. First she is furious with Pansy, but then she start to laugh. Mortimer have a nice body, but he is short. Pansy is a good-sized girl. Grace remember Gramps say, "Tiny insects pollinate sizeable flowers, — Pamela Mordecai

A lot of the stories were highly suspicious, in her opinion. There was the one that ended when the two good children pushed the wicked witch into her own oven ... Stories like this stopped people thinking properly, she was sure. She'd read that one and thought, Excuse me? No one has an oven big enough to get a whole person in, and what made the children think they could just walk around eating people's houses in any case? And why does some boy too stupid to know a cow is worth a lot more than five beans have the right to murder a giant and steal all his gold? Not to mention commit an act of ecological vandalism? And some girl who can't tell the difference between a wolf and her grandmother must either have been as dense as teak or come from an extremely ugly family. — Terry Pratchett

Oh I'm sure you're right," Auntie said. "Probably she's just as you say. But she looks to me like a very clever girl, and adaptable; you can see that from the shape of her ears. — Arthur Golden

She needs you for more than just protection. It's how it works. You want the strong girl, you understand that she's with you because she wants to be. Not because she has to be. You know that, right? — Rachel Caine

Justineau puts a hand on Melanie's arm, and Melanie jumps almost a foot into the air. The extreme reaction makes Justineau start back in her turn. "Sorry," she says. "It's all right," Melanie mutters, looking up at her. The girl's blue eyes are wide and fathomless. Normally her emotions are all on the surface, but now, underneath the nerves and the general unhappiness, there are depths that Justineau doesn't know how to interpret. "We — M.R. Carey

She is shocked by the rows of thick Plexiglas windows, each equipped with a telephone, each with a prisoner on one side and an outsider on the other. There is a teenage girl chatting with a prisoner who is presumably her father. There's a married couple talking to their daughter. There's a woman with a baby in her arms, sobbing into her phone as she begs her husband not to plead guilty for his crimes. Jail is terrifying to Geraldine, not only because it's a house of criminals but also because it's a cold slap in the face, a reminder of where she will eventually end up. "You've got to stay with me the whole time, Callo! I'm serious, you CANNOT leave me here."

"I'll never," Callo vows, but he's eyeing her strangely. "Just remember which side of the glass you're on right now, Geraldine. — Rebecca McNutt

If I had it my way, Harper and I wouldn't be standing in this room right now, we wouldn't be pressed against each other. I would just be her roommate's brother who pisses her off. But when it came to this girl, I was no longer in control of anything. She consumed me in every way possible. My brain was telling me to run from her, to keep her safe, to keep her from someone like me, but she had my heart completely, and that was winning out. I wanted her, I wanted her to want me and only me. Not Brandon even though I knew he was the better choice for her. But that just didn't matter to me at the moment; all I cared about was the fact that one of my best friends was winning over the only girl that would ever mean anything to me. - Chase Grayson. — Molly McAdams

But what we have here is not a nice girl, as generally understood. For one thing, she's not beautiful. There's a certain set to the jaw and arch to the nose that might, with a following wind and in the right light, be called handsome by a good-natured liar. Also, there's a certain glint in her eye generally possessed by those people who have found that they are more intelligent than most people around them but who haven't yet learned that one of the most intelligent things they can do is prevent said people ever finding this out. — Terry Pratchett

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

What's important for me is to find the right kind of girls who express a vision of a woman. We like girls who look smart and intelligent with natural beauty - a certain quality of skin and hair. And she doesn't look exactly like a model. — Christophe Lemaitre

But Mrs. Meany, see, the women went on, leaning forward, despite how her heart was broken, pulled herself together, anyway, to put on a good face for the rest of the family at home. And she went back, Sunday after Sunday, right up until the Sunday before she died. Mrs. Meany put her beautiful love - a mother's love - against the terrible scenes that brewed like sewage in that poor girl's troubled mind. She persevered, she baked her cakes, she hauled herself (the goiter swinging) on and off the ferry, and she sat, brokenhearted, holding her daughter's hand, even as Lucy shouted her terrible words, proving to anyone with eyes to see that a mother's love was a beautiful, light, relentless thing that the devil could not diminish. — Alice McDermott

Being mean won't make you cool, being rich won't make you cool, and having the right clothes, while it may help, won't make you cool. It's cool to be kind. It's cool to be weird. It's cool to be honest and to be secure with yourself. Cool is the girl at a party who strikes up a conversation with you when she notices you don't seem to know many people there. — Sophia Amoruso

Another little girl brought a baked chicken, presumably to be eaten on the bus; the only trouble was she'd forgotten to take out the insides before cooking it. Miss Bobbit's mother said that was all right by her, chicken was chicken; which is memorable because it is the single opinion she ever voiced. — Truman Capote

It's the same girl-who-has-everything story. You know, the one where she's insecure and scared and unhappy and has marriage problems and doesn't know how to handle stardom and screws up right and left and gets in with the wrong people and goes down the drain. — Natalie Cole

Karrin."
She looked up at me. She looked very young somehow.
"Remember what I said yesterday," I said. "You're hurt. But you'll get through it. You'll be okay."
She closed her eyes tightly. "I'm scared. So scared I'm sick."
"You'll get through it."
"What if I don't?"
I squeezed her fingers. "Then I will personally make fun of you every day for the rest of your life," I said. "I will call you a sissy girl in front of everyone you know, tie frilly aprons on your car, and lurk in the parking lot at CPD and whistle and tell you to shake it, baby. Every. Single. Day."
Murphy's breath escaped in something like a hiccup. She opened her eyes, a mix of anger and wary amusement easing into them in place of fear. "You do realize I'm holding a gun, right? — Jim Butcher

...girl reached across her desk and pulled the computer keyboard over. "What's his name?" she said. "Crowley," Julianna said, surprised. "Christopher Wayne Crowley." "I shouldn't do this." The girl looked back up at Genevieve and laughed. "But fuck it, right?" Genevieve's disappearance from the state fair had been news for about a day. Okay, maybe for a couple of weeks. She was beautiful - the Daily Oklahoman ran her picture with every story, a photo of her from the previous year's U. S. Grant High School yearbook. Genevieve had thought the photo... — Lou Berney

She had the swagger of a girl. She blushed like a boy. She had a girl's toughness. She has a boy's gentleness. She was as meaty as a girl. She was as graceful as a boy. She was as brave and handsome and rough as a girl. She was as pretty and delicate and dainty as a boy. She turned boys' heads like a girl. She turned girls' heads like a boy. She made love like a boy. She made love like a girl. She was so boyish it was girlish, so girlish it was boyish, she made me want to rove the world writing our names on every tree. I had simply never found someone so right. Sometimes this shocked me so much that I was unable to speak. — Ali Smith

Your girl doesn't seem like the type who's into the party scene."
I got hung up on the phrase "your girl" and the rush of pride it sent through me for what was probably a second too long. "Yeah, I don't think so."
Jase chuckled softly. "She's turned you into a changed man, hasn't she?"
I smiled as I grabbed my keys. Jase might be right. Since I'd met Avery in August, a lot of my habits had changed, even more so during the weeks following fight night. "Something like that."
"Well, have fun. Don't impregnate her. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Look, sometimes it's OK with girls like this, they wanna have fun, and sometimes it's not because they've got a broken wing and they're hurt and they're an easy target. In this case, this particular case, I think that wing is being fixed, my friend, and you gotta make sure that it's mended and you're getting in the way of that right now, okay, because she's sensitive and she's smart, she's artistic. This is a great girl, you gotta be respectful to that. Come on, let me walk you to your car, you're a better guy than this. — Matthew Quick

Thomas let go of her, leaned his head back against the wall. She pressed in again and wrapped her arms around his middle. "Uh ... Brenda?" he asked. Something wasn't right with this girl. "Yeah?" she mumbled against his chest. "What are you doing?" "What do you mean?" "Don't you think it's a little weird how you're acting? — James Dashner

But she wrote out some extra words on a piece of paper so Rain could practice reading. "Is this a magic spell?" the girl asked her.
"Don't let me get sappy on you, but when you get right down to it, every collection of letters is a magic spell, even if it is a moronic proclamation by the Emperor. Words have their impact, girl. Mind your manners. I may not know how to fly but I know how to read, and that's almost the same thing."
-Out of Oz — Gregory Maguire

The girl's arms jutted out at awkward angles, not quite hands on the hips belligerent but not relaxed either, as if they weren't all the way under the girl's control. "I came to find you."
"I didn't know. If I'd known ... "
"It doesn't matter now." The girl's attention was unwavering. "This is where you are."
"It is at that."
The girl looked sad. Her soil-dark eyes were clouded over by tears she hadn't been able to shed. "I came here to find you."
"I couldn't have known." Maylene reached out and plucked a leaf from the girl's hair.
"Doesn't matter." She lifted a dirty hand, fingernails flashing chipped red polish, but she didn't seem to know what to do with her outstretched fingers. Little girl fears warred with teenage bravado. Bravado won. "I'm here now."
"All right, then." Maylene walked down the path toward one of the gates. She pulled the key from her handbag, twisted it in the lock, and pushed open the gate. — Melissa Marr

Now this girl was about twenty-one years old. A sweet little coed. Spends a night with a married man. Goes home the next day and tells her mama and daddy. Don't ask me why. Maybe just to rub their faces in it. They decide she needs a lesson. Whole family drives out into the desert, right out to that spot we just passed. All three of them plus the girl's pet dog. Papa tells the girl to dig a shallow grave. Mama gets down on her hands and knees and holds the dog by the collar. When the girl is all through digging, papa gives her a .22 caliber revolver and tells her to shoot the dog. A real touching family scene. Make a good calendar for some religious group to give away. The girl puts the weapon to her temple and kills herself. Now isn't that a heartwarming story? Restores my faith in just about everything. — Don DeLillo

She is often the broken-winged one, who does everything all wrong until people realize she's been doing it ... pretty right all along. She's the poor girl who never dressed right, who had torn hose, and they were all baggy around her ankles. She's the Raggedy Ann of the sophisticated world, who pulls it out at the last minute, flies by the seat of her pants, cackling all the way home. She is the late bloomer, the late start, the autumn bush, the winter holly. She is Baubo, all the classical Greek goddesses. She is the old girl who still blushes, and laughs, and dances. She's the truth teller, maybe that people hate to hear, but they learn to listen to. She is not dumb and in some ways is not shrewd. She works on passion, and the doll in her pocket, and the intuition that leads her into and through all the world. — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

For men like him, to fuck or rape a whore is not an achievement. Putting his filth into a hole that has already served hundreds before him does not engender the slightest masculine pride. Isn't that right, my sang-e saboor? You should know. Men like him are afraid of whores. And do you know why? I'll tell you, my sang-e saboor: when you fuck a whore, you don't dominate her body. It's a matter of exchange. You give her money, and she gives you pleasure. And I can tell you that often she's the dominant one. It's she who is fucking you." The woman calms down. Her voice serene, she continues, "So, raping a whore is not rape. But raping a young girl's virginity, a woman's honor! Now that's your creed! — Atiq Rahimi

Do you believe in God?" Her small hand grips onto my larger one. "Yeah, baby girl," I say, looking down and watching her smile at my answer. "Do you think God will let me see you again?" She continues to ask questions that keep breaking me. "I know he will," I say, believing it more than anything. My faith has now been shaken, but I can't lose hope that where she is going will be somewhere beautiful and amazing. "When I go to God, will I see Charlie the goldfish?" She yawns, almost drifting off as the hospital machines beep around us. I nearly smile at her question, but I can't, because at the end of the day we're talking about death, and the inevitable end that's fast approaching. "I don't know, baby girl," I tell her, wishing I had the right answers for her. — River Savage

Well I knew when I first laid eyes on her
I could never be free
One look at her and I knew right away
She should always be with me
Well the dream dried up a long time ago
Don't know where it is anymore
True to life, true to me
Was the girl from the red river shore
Well I'm wearing the cloak of misery
And I've tasted jilted love
And the frozen smile upon my face
Fits me like a glove
Well I can't escape from the memory
Of the one I'll always adore
All those nights when I lay in the arms
Of the girl from the red river shore
Well we're living in the shadows of a fading past
Trapped in the fires of time
I've tried not to ever hurt anybody
And to stay out of the life of crime
And when it's all been said and done
I never did know the score
One more day is another day away
From the girl from the red river shore. — Bob Dylan

Hazel stabbed him again, and both of Trenton's feet came off the floor, but he didn't make a sound. "And that is why I waited for your girl. So you wouldn't cry. Damn, Cami takes your dick every night, and it's way bigger than a sixteen gauge."
I frowned. "Uncalled for. You need to get laid. You've been super in-apropos lately."
Hazel jutted out her lip. "Tell me about it!"
Trenton wore a wry smile. "But she's right, baby doll. I'm way bigger than a sixteen gauge. — Jamie McGuire

Oh aye. He's as dangerous as a sack of blackmark vipers. A right cunt and no mistake.'
The boy raised his eyebrows, mouth slightly agape.
Mia met his tare, scowling. 'What?'
'My mother said that's a filthy word,' Tric Frowned.
'The filthiest. She told me never to say it. Especially in front of dona.'
'O, really.' The girl took another pull on her cigarillo, eyes narrowed. 'And whys that?'
'I don't know.' Tric found himself mumbling. 'It's just what she said. — Jay Kristoff

Do you like manga?" she asked after a minute. "Anime?"
"Anime's cool. I'm not really into it, but 1 like Japanese movies,
animated or not."
"Well, I'm into it. I watch the shows, read the books, chat on the boards, and all that. But this girl I know, she's
completely into it. She spends most of her allowance on the books and DVDs. She can recite dialogue from
them." She caught my gaze. "So would you say she belongs here?"
"No. Most kids are that way about something, right? With me, it's
movies. Like knowing who directed a sci-fi movie made before I was born. — Kelley Armstrong

...Rusty followed. "You should probably pull out your gun. Whatever is in there made enough noise to make me believe it wasn't a bug." Kirsten's stride faltered, and she came to a stop at the door. "Okay, I'm gonna come clean right now. I cannot stand rats or mice. Snakes scare me less. So if I get in there and I see a furry vermin, I will scream like a little girl. If you tell anyone you witnessed that, I will ticket you every time you pull out of your driveway. Are we clear?" "Are you sure you don't want me to go to the store?" Kirsten met Rusty's gaze. "Are you clear on what I just said?" "Yep. — Robin Alexander

That's when I notice Cheryl and Mickey cuddled up on the couch. She's leaning on his shoulder, his arm around her, her leg across his lap. Cheryl throws glances at Kerry that say, "Look at me!" while Kerry shoots a "You go, girl!" smirk right back. I think of CK, how he and I often sat like that. Not because we were seconds from making out or wanted to look like a couple, but just out of a deep, platonic connection. My heart hits a higher notch on the ache-o-meter, my teeth sear into my bottom lip, and then something inside me snaps as cleanly as a crayon. — Kea Alwang

GHOSTBUSTERS I always wanted the reboot of Ghostbusters to be four girl-ghostbusters. Like, four normal, plucky women living in New York City searching for Mr. Right and trying to find jobs - but who also bust ghosts. I'm not an idiot, though. I know the demographic for Ghostbusters is teenage boys, and I know they would kill themselves if two ghostbusters had a makeover at Sephora. I just have always wanted to see a cool girl having her first kiss with a guy she's had a crush on, and then have to excuse herself to go trap the pissed-off ghosts of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire or something. In my imagination, I am, of course, one of the ghostbusters, with the likes of say, Emily Blunt, Taraji Henson, and Natalie Portman. Even if I'm not the ringleader, I'm definitely the one who gets to say "I ain't afraid a no ghost." At least the first time. — Mindy Kaling

Maybe you just haven't found the right girl yet?" I say softly not wanting him to give up. Saxon's eyes meet mine, "maybe she just hasn't found me yet." - Stephanie Smith, Wherever You Will Go — Stephanie Smith

Ambrose's eyes shoot back to Charlotte and he nods. "She's changed, hasn't she? Charlotte, I mean."
"Um, besides growing her hair long she doesn't seem to have changed much to me," I say, trying not to smile. "Why?"
"It's just that she seems so ... in charge. I mean, she's always had her act together, but ever since she's been back she's seemed more confident or something. And now that she's Vincent's second ... I guess I've always thought of her as a little sister. You know, the huggable kind you want to take care of. But now that I see her working with him and taking control ... I mean ... the girl is fierce."
Ambrose's face shines with respect and a sort of curious awe, and I have to restrain myself from jumping up and cheering for the fact that it has finally happened. He has finally noticed what was right under his nose. — Amy Plum

I got a washed out version of Mom's curls and a better copy of Dad's blue eyes, The rest of me, I guess, is up for grabs. Except maybe Gran's nose, but she could have been trying to make me feel better. I'm no prize. Most girls go through a gawky stage, but I'm beginning to think mine will be a lifelong thing. It doesn't bother me too much. Better to be strong than pretty and useless. I'll take a plain girl with her head screwed on right over a cheerleader any day. — Lilith Saintcrow

She smoothes the front of the dress, looking down at her hands, at her bitten fingernails, at her big feet in the pointy-toes shoes. This is a woman's dress, she thinks, a young woman's dress. It is not a girl's dress. It is solidly on the other side of the line outside of girlhood. It is a dress that says something big in a very quiet way; it is a dress that is talking to Alice right now, a dress that is making her feel possibilities never before considered, the possibility of perfume and pretty and dancing and boys. This dress is who she might be, only more so. — Laura Harrington

Liam's lips tightened. "She's only a little girl. She doesn't know anything about swords. What if she cuts herself? It's sharp, right?"
"Of course it is sharp, Liam. What would be the point ot having a sword that wasn't? — Deborah Blake

Why do you continue your... charade? Your current position would seem to be a good one for revealing the truth'.
'A few people know, sir. Bobby, Jane, some of the Leatherbacks. For the rest... it just seems easier to keep things as they are.' Winter thought of Novus and his tirade. 'It would be one thing if I had just joined up, but it's been so long. People might be upset that they'd been fooled. And...'
Janus raised an eyebrow. Winter hesitated.
'It's all right for the Girl's Own,' she said. 'They joined up because Vordan needs them, and when the war's over they'll go home. I... I haven't anywhere to go.' She tugged the collar of her uniform. 'This is who I am now, for better or worse. This is my home. After the war, maybe it will be all right for a woman to keep this on, but... maybe not.'
Winter found her throat getting thick. She'd never put it that way before, never even thought it so bluntly. This is my home. — Django Wexler

But here's the thing Ona. Howard wrote that song for you.' Quinn had never been more sure of anything. 'I think he wrote all his songs for you, Ona, for young and lovely you.'
'Now you're talking foolish.'
'He wrote them for you, and you refused them because he didn't know how to give them to you.' How could he, living his shadow of a life, floundering in the sludge of grief and failure?
'Have you been drinking?'
'Listen to me,' he said. 'You 're the glittering girl with the cherry-wood hair. You're the angel's breath and sunlight.'
'Oh, for heaven's sake.' She sat up crossly, her tufted hair seeming to quiver. 'Quinn Porter,' she said, 'I never took you for a romantic.'
'Howard Stanhope loved you,' he declared. 'I thought you should know.'
'Well, all right.'
'I thought you should know, Ona.'
'Thank you.'
'People should know these things — Monica Wood

Charlotte, dressed in a very short-skirted policewoman's outfit, was leading a dancing brigade, jumping around at the front of the room, her long red hair flapping up and down like a matador's cape. She was head girl, and she would shows us how to party if she had to.
I wasn't really sure why Charlotte had decided to come to the party as a stripper. I found myself at a loss for words as she complimented us on our costumes.
"You're a..." I tried to find the right thing to say. "Really...hot cop?"
"I'm Amy Pond," she said. "From Doctor Who. This is her kissogram outfit. — Maureen Johnson

So how long have you been together? Two months?'
'Five.'
'Five? Jesus, Steve, you might as well get married. I should buy a hat.'
'Don't. They give away your Spock ears.'
She laughed. 'This is the Romanian girl?'
'Croatian.'
'Right. She's a painter?'
'Photographer.'
'Right.' She studied him.
'What?' he laughed self-consciously as though he was a twelve-year-old boy who'd just been caught with his first girlfriend.
'Nothing.'
'Come on.'
'I don't know Steve,' she cut into her meat, 'you've changed. You no longer write about Victoria Beckham and you have a girlfriend. I think ... '
'You think what?'
'I don't know, I might be jumping the gun here, but I think there's a possibility you might not be gay after all.'
A chip was hurled at her head. — Cecelia Ahern

I tried to give her my best "I Am A Demon Princess" look, which was quite the challenge, seeing as how my hair was hanging in my face and my nose was running. "What's your name?" I asked.
The girl kept her eyes on me, but her hands were moving restlessly over the ground around her, no doubt searching for the knife. "Izzy," she said.
I raised both my eyebrows. Not exactly a name to strike fear into the heart.
Izzy must've read that in my expression, because she frowned. "I'm Isolde Brannick, daughter of Aislinn, daughter of Fiona, daughter of-"
"Right, right, daughter of a bunch of fierce ladies, got it. — Rachel Hawkins

Is the girl all right?" "She's had an ordeal but she's young," Augustus said. "She won't forget it, but she might outlive it. — Larry McMurtry

AGE DIFFERENCE
What if I told you that one day you will meet a girl who is unlike anyone else you've known. She will know all the right things to say, what makes you laugh, what turns you on, what drives you wild and best of all, you will do for her exactly what she does for you.
"When will I meet her?"
Well let's put it this way, she doesn't even exist yet. — Lang Leav

I'm a good girl. I'm a nice girl. I'm a straight-A, strait-laced, good daughter, good career girl, and I never stole anybody's boyfriend and I never ran out on a girlfriend, and I put up with my parents' shit and brother's shit and I'm not a girl anyhow, I'm over forty fucking years old, and I'm good at my job and I'm great with kids and I held my mother's hand when she died,after four years of holding her hand while she was dying, and I speak to my father ever day on the telephone
every day, mind you, and what kind of weather do you have on your side of the river, because here it's pretty gray and a big muggy too? It was supposed to say "Great Artist" on my tombstone, but if I died right now it would say "Such a good teacher/daughter/friend" instead; and what I really want to shout, and want in big letters on that grave, too, is FUCK YOU ALL. — Claire Messud

You may have an occasion to be traveling in southern Maine yourself one of these days. Pretty part of the countryside. You may even stop by Tookey's Bar for a drink. Nice place. They kept the name just the same. So have your drink, and then my advice to you is to keep right on moving north. Whatever you do, don't go up that road to Jerusalem's Lot. Especially not after dark. There's a little girl somewhere out there. And I think she's still waiting for her good-night kiss. — Stephen King

She sighed. Loudly. "Physical appearance is not what is important."
Yeah right. Tell that to any girl who hasn't bothered to put on a presentable shirt or fix her hair because she's only running into the grocery store to get a quart of milk for her grandmother, and who does she see tending the 7-ITEMS-OR-LESS cash register but the guy of her dreams, except she can't even say hi - much less try to develop a meaningful relationship - since she looks like the poster child for the terminally geeky. — Vivian Vande Velde

I was on tour with Little Dragon with the Gorillaz. She's got an amazing voice and is a lovely girl. Her vibe is fresh pressed and harmless fun with a tinge of the dark side if you look in the right bits of the tunes. — Neneh Cherry

Kaldar smiled at her. Now there was a work of art. If she were just a girl and he were just a man, and they met at a party, that smile would've guaranteed him a date. The man was hot. There was no doubt. But right now, all it would get him was a solid punch in those even teeth.
Audrey laughed. "Aren't you sweet? Tell me, do girls usually throw their panties at you when you do that?"
He grinned wider, and she glimpsed the funny evil spark in his eyes. "Do men throw money when you do your little Southern belle? — Ilona Andrews

My girl, always hated frogs," Jackie stated when she'd controlled her hilarity.
"That's right, Mom," Feb leveled her irate eyes at her mother, "I'm a girl therefore I hate frogs. I'd get kicked out of the girl club if I didn't. — Kristen Ashley

Perhaps it's time you stopped sulking over an engagement three years broken and bore yourself like a man!" The duke's voice snaps like a whip. "Zeus and Hera, how did I beget such an unruly son?"

"If you've forgotten, perhaps you could summon up the dead and ask my lady mother."

The duke barks a laugh. "You got that tongue from her, that's for certain. But she was obedient to me for all her carping."

"Obedient?" says Lord Anax. The desk creaks and shifts; I think he is leaning against it. "We must remember her very differently."

"Always when it counted, my boy, which is more than can be said of you. I wanted that girl for my daughter, you know."

"Adopt her, then. I believe it's legal."

"First I'd have to kill her parents," says the duke, "and I am given to understand that's frowned upon these days."

"It's gone the same sad way as the right of a father to execute his sons. — Rosamund Hodge

What about the other girl with you - Forra? Why is she with you?"
"I saved her from execution. She is very vocal about her dislike of the king."
"Then why did you save her?" Garvanna asked.
Caelfel's expression hardened. "Because the king is wrong, and she is right. King Orrik wouldn't even save his own son. — Kelly R. Michaels

It's like she's the same girl from last night, only now she's in HD. And I was right. She really does look like a fucking angel. — Colleen Hoover

Right before the game, she strolled up to me. "Hey, Seaweed Brain."
"Will you stop calling me that?"
She knows I hate that name, mostly because I never have a good comeback. She's the daughter of Athena, which doesn't give me a lot of ammunition. I mean, "Owl-head" and "Wise Girl" are kind of lame insults. — Rick Riordan

I am salivating.
There's a challenge in her eyes, making her the bravest girl I've ever met, because I will bloody well lay her down right here on Blake's deck and pick up where I left off in that hotel room. I will have that bikini off faster than she can gasp. — Wendy Higgins

He could feel all of it so clearly it was as if it were happening right then. But more than that, he felt sorrow. Someone had just tried to do the same thing to his baby girl. Had tried to kill her, not because he hated her, but because she was standing in the path of his political statement. Everyone who died on that shuttle had been a Felcia to someone. And with the click of a button he'd killed them. He — James S.A. Corey

We should get a move on you know ... ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls."
Hermione let out a sputter of indignation. "A pair of ... what excuse me?"
"Well - you know," said Ron shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with - with Eloise Midgen, say."
"Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice."
"Her nose's off-centre," said Ron.
"Oh I see," Hermione said bristling. "So basically you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you even if she's completely horrible?"
"Er - yeah that sounds about right." said Ron.
"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped and she swept off toward the girls' staircase without another word. — J.K. Rowling

Thank you, Will, Jem murmured as Tessa drew the stumbling girl away as quickly as she could, and Will felt the words as three needle pricks inside his heart. Always when Will did something to protect Tessa, Jem thought it was for his sake, not for Will's. Always Will wished Jem could be entirely right. Each needle prick had its own name. Guilt. Shame. Love. — Cassandra Clare

Granny sat down on the step and stared off into the trees. That girl right there, she was my only child. I have lost two husbands, one by death, the other by divorce, and I have lost my parents and my brothers and sisters. But nothing ever pierced me to the core like that little girl's dying. I know it wasn't your daddy's fault. I know I messed up by filling a report to Social Services. Is that what you want to here? Is that what it takes for you not to be mad at me? — Frances O'Roark Dowell

You think fairy tales are only for girls? Here's a hint - ask yourself who wrote them. I assure you, it wasn't just the women. It's the great male fantasy - all it takes is one dance to know that she's the one. All it takes is the sound of her song from the tower, or a look at her sleeping face. And right away you know - this is the girl in your head, sleeping or dancing or singing in front of you. Yes, girls want their princes, but boys want their princesses just as much. And they don't want a very long courtships. They want to know immediately. — David Levithan