Sighed With Delight Quotes & Sayings

Nonfiction-wha t the hell, that just says, this is nongrapefruit we're having this morning. — John McPhee

We lend power to the things we fear! — Orison Swett Marden

This is the owner of Dark Haven. Master Xavier. Call him 'my liege.'"
Xavier sighed. He had no idea who'd first given him that title, but the submissives took such delight in it, he'd allowed it to continue. — Cherise Sinclair

Starting out, I bet I didn't get a lot of parts because of my strange voice. I'm not consciously thinking, 'Hey, sound like a squeaky dog toy mixed with a bagful of rusty nails.' It's just what my voice has done. — Charlie Day

The call to the creative life is a call to dignity, to a life of vulnerability and adventure and the call to a life that exquisite excitement and indeed ecstasy will often visit. — John O'Donohue

He's not your type."
Peabody's face clouded exactly as it had when Eve had rejected the perfume. "How come - I like looking at his type."
"Sure, but try to have a conversation with him." Eve dipped her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. "Guy's in love with himself and figures every woman who gets a load of him has to go moony eyed - just like you're doing. He'd bore you to death in ten minutes because all he'd talk about is himself - how he looks, what he does, what he likes. You'd just be his latest accessory."
Peabody considered, watching as the gold-tipped Adonis posed at the check-in counter. "Okay, so we won't bother to talk. We'll just have sex."
"He'd be a lousy lay - wouldn't give a damn if you got off or not."
"I'm getting off just looking at him." But she sighed when he took out a small silver-backed mirror and examined his face with obvious delight. "It's times like this I hate it when you're right. — J.D. Robb

Anne smiled and sighed. The seasons that seemed so long to Baby Rilla were beginning to pass all too quickly for her. Another summer was ended, lighted out of life by the ageless gold of Lombardy torches. Soon ... all too soon ... the children of Ingleside would be children no longer. But they were still hers ... hers to welcome when they came home at night ... hers to fill life with wonder and delight ... hers to love and cheer and scold ... a little. — L.M. Montgomery

Bella ... my sweet little flower," he said softly, reverently as he took her head between his hands and pressed their foreheads together. "After over four hundred years of solitude, I think I am ready for you and an entire barrel full of children. Nothing could please me more."
"Oh, Jacob," she sighed with delight, kissing his lips eagerly. "How did I get so lucky?"
"Well, as I recall ... you had the bad luck to fall out of a window."
"Ah, but that was good luck, because you caught me."
"No, little flower," he murmured, pausing to kiss her deeply and thoroughly. "I think it is safe to say that you are the one who caught me. — Jacquelyn Frank

Nothing is achieved without solitude. — Jean-Baptiste Henri Lacordaire

For my peculiar face, I look best when I look as though I'm not wearing make-up. — Lauren Bacall

Moving islands in the ocean of sky.
Beautiful white curtains in the sky,
Veiling and unveiling portions, as time passes by.
I watch clouds, when my mind feels clouded. — Innocent Mwatsikesimbe

Once, as I passed by a cottage, there came out a lovely fairy child, with two wondrous toys, one in each hand. The one was the tube through which the fairy-gifted poet looks when he beholds the same thing everywhere; the other that through which he looks when he combines into new forms of loveliness those images of beauty which his own choice has gathered from all regions wherein he has travelled. Round the child's head was an aureole of emanating rays. As I looked at him in wonder and delight, round crept from behind me the something dark, and the child stood in my shadow. Straightway he was a commonplace boy, with a rough broad-brimmed straw hat, through which brim the sun shone from behind. The toys he carried were a multiplying-glass and a kaleidoscope. I sighed and departed. — George MacDonald

Then all my servile works were done A righteousness to raise; Now, freely chosen in the Son, I freely choose his ways. — Sinclair B. Ferguson