So Sweet Girl Quotes & Sayings

He kisses me hard, tells me between frenzied kisses, 'You feel so good, beautiful, beautiful, sweet girl. Feel how much I want you.' He circles his hips against mine. 'I want you like this all the fucking time. — S.R. Grey

I SEE THE GIRL WRITES IN GREEN CRAYON ON PINK PAPER WITH A MOUSE IN THE CORNER. THE MOUSE IS WEARING A DRESS.
'I ought to point out that she decided to do that so the Hogfather would think she was sweet,' said Susan. 'Including the deliberate bad spelling. But look, why are you ... '
SHE SAYS SHE IS FIVE YEARS OLD.
'In years, yes. In cynicism, she's about thirty-five. Why are you doing the ... '
BUT SHE BELIEVES IN THE HOGFATHER?
'She'd believe in anything if there was a dolly in it for her. — Terry Pratchett

It's important to marry someone, she said. Not because you need them to complete you or because you ought to be someone's wife by hook or by crook. It's just that worlds want to combine, they want to marry, and they use people to do it, the way you mix medicine in with something sweet, so it's easy to swallow. That's why we have to have all those silly things: a frilly dress and something blue and a bachelor party and a priest. Just so that a boy and a girl can live together and make babies? Posh. Because the big worlds inside us are mating, and they need the pomp. — Catherynne M Valente

Believe me, if Archimedes ever had the grand entrance of a girl as pretty as Gloria to look forward to, he would never have spent so much time calculating the value of Pi. He would have been baking her a Pie! If Euclid had ever beheld a vision of loveliness like the one I see walking into my anti-math class, he would have forgotten all the geometry of lines and planes, and concentrated on the sweet simplicity of soft curves. If Pythagoras had ever had a girl look at him the way Gloria's eyes fix in my direction, he would have given up his calculations on the hypotenuse of right triangles and run for the hills to pick a bouquet of wildflowers. — David Klass

Hmmm," he said, "Lauren Elizabeth Danner.Elizabeth is a beautiful name and so is Lauren. They suit you."
Unable to endure the sweet torment of having him flirt with her, Lauren said repressively, "I was named after two maiden aunts.One of them had a squint and the other had warts."
Nick ignored that and continued aloud. "Color of eyes,blue." He regarded her over the top of the file, his gray eyes intimate and teasing. "They are definitely blue.A man could lose himself in those eyes of yours-they're gorgeous."
"My right eye used to wobble unless I wore my glasses," Lauren informed him blithely. "They had to operate on it."
"A little girl with wobbly blue eyes and glasses on her nose," he reflected with a slow grin. "I'll bet you were cute."
"I looked studious,not cute. — Judith McNaught

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

Ulysses, darling," she whispered, "you don't mind that I'm a round-heeled tart."

"Nonsense. You're my cherry tart. Ripe and oh-so sweet, you naughty girl."

-Angelia Sparrow, Cherry Tart — Naomi Brooks

As she grew older, Maddy discovered that she had disappointed almost everyone. An awkward girl with a sullen mouth, a curtain of hair, and a tendency to slouch, she had neither Mae's sweet nature nor sweet face. Her eyes were rather beautiful, but few people ever noticed this, and it was widely believed Maddy was ugly, a troublemaker, too clever for her own good, too stubborn - or too slack - to change.
Of course, folk agreed that it was not her fault she was so brown or her sister so pretty, but a smile costs nothing, as the saying goes, and if only the girl had made an effort once in a while, or even showed a little gratitude for all the help and free advice, then maybe she would have settled down. — Joanne Harris

She walked down the basement steps. She saw an imaginary framed photo seep into the wall - a quiet-smiled secret. No more than a few meters, it was a long walk to the drop sheets and the assortment of paint cans that shielded Max Vandenburg. She removed the sheets closest to the wall until there was a small corridor to look through. The first part of him she saw was his shoulder, and through the slender gap, she slowly, painfully, inched her hand in until it rested there. His clothing was cool. He did not wake.
She could feel his breathing and his shoulder moving up and down ever so slightly. For a while, she watched him. Then she sat and leaned back.
Sleepy air seemed to have followed her.
The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder.
They breathed.
German and Jewish lungs. — Markus Zusak

'Tis sweet to kiss a girl on Spring's first day, but only half so sweet as 'tis to kiss a girl on her bootyhole. — William Shakespeare

My dad (Scott Swift) believed in me, even when I didn't.He always knew I could do this. I'm sure that everyone in Reading remembers how much he talked about me. I thought that was sweet, but really I just wasn't as sure it would happen. So, I just love my dad for believing in his little girl. — Taylor Swift

So that's who you want me to be? The innocent, sweet, shy girl you say I was?" She stormed over to the bed and snatched up the robe again. "Because I can't be her. I can't be anything but me. I love you, but I won't change who I am for anyone." She tied the robe around her waist and spread her arms wide. "This is me. You either love me for who I am, or you find someone else to love. — Larissa Ione

Time went by and there wasn't even sadness.
"You know how another patient put it? She said this feeling inside her was . . . it was anti-feeling. Like a black hole in space, and everything - happiness, anger, hope, meaning - it would all get sucked in, tipped over the event horizon, and she couldn't feel any of it. That's the way it was for me. I walked around like everyone else, and had this wonderful opportunity at the museum, and came home to this brilliant guy who loved me and was nothing but sweet. Your father tried so hard. But I felt . . . empty. If I could've filled that space up with anything, I would've. If somebody had turned to me and said, 'It's easy, just pour some dry cement in there and you'll be a normal human girl,' I would've done it like that." She snaps her fingers. "But I couldn't. And your father couldn't do it for me. — Rebecca Podos

No question. I admit, you're not what I expected, but you're exactly what I want."
"What did you expect?"
"A sweet, reserved girl who wouldn't provoke my brother into stabbing her a hundred times."
"A wilting violet? Oh, come on, Key. You'd run all over her and forget about her in a week."
"I see that now." He grinned at her. "I keep trying to run all over you, but you're just so . . . stabby. — Trinity Faegen

The mental agony I have suffered, during the last two days, wrings from me the avowal to you of a passion which, as you well know, is not one of yesterday, nor one I have lightly formed. On Rose, sweet, gentle girl! my heart is set, as firmly as ever heart of man was set on woman. I have no thought, no view, no hope in life, beyond her; and if you oppose me in this great stake, you take my peace and happiness in your hands, and cast them to the wind. Mother, think better of this, and of me, and do not disregard the happiness of which you seem to think so little. — Charles Dickens

You'll have sweet dreams?" he asked quietly and sounding like he cared, a lot.
God but I loved this man.
I felt my mouth smile and I pressed even closer.
"I'm a good girl, I always do what I'm told."
His hand left my hair so both his arms could wrap tight around me.
"Love you, Ace," he murmured and my stomach melted.
He said it. Right out.
He said it.
"Love you too, Captain. — Kristen Ashley

Other people, so I have read, treasure memorable moments in their lives: the time one climbed the Parthenon at sunrise, the summer night one met a lonely girl in Central Park and achieved with her a sweet and natural relationship, as they say in books. I too once met a girl in Central Park, but it is not much to remember. What I remember is the time John Wayne killed three men with a carbine as he was falling to the dusty street in Stagecoach, and the time the kitten found Orson Welles in the doorway in The Third Man. — Walker Percy

Everything okay, sweet pea?" Garret asked as he walked over.
"Yep. Just talking to Sean and getting some fresh air."
Garret shoved his hands into his pockets. "You mean you're hiding out here with this pussy who's here for the same reason."
Sean grunted. "Yeah, the exact same reason you've run outside like a damn girl."
Garret grinned. "Too many damned people. Ma eats that shit up, but I swear it makes the rest of us crazy."
"So at what point is she going to figure out we've fled the premises?" Rachel asked. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Marlene's feelings.
"Not to worry. Mom is well used to having to round us up. She usually gives us ten minutes or so to get the crazed look from our eyes, and then she'll come out all sweet-like but with a glint in her eyes you know better than to ignore."
"And at that point, she drags us back inside by our ears," Sean finished. — Maya Banks

What age is she now, twenty something. I'm not sure. She is very bright, quite the bluestocking. Not beautiful, however, I admitted that to myself long ago. I cannot pretend this is not a disappointment, for I had hoped that she would be another Anna. She is too tall and stark, her rusty hair is coarse and untameable and stand out around her freckled face in an unbecoming manner, and when she smiles she shows her upper gums, glistening and whitely pink. With those spindly legs and big bum, that hair, the long neck especially ... Yet she is brave and makes the best of herself and of the world. She has the rueful, grimly humorous, clomping way to her that is common to so many ungainly girls. ... Dear Claire, my sweet girl. — John Banville

The sweet roll smelled divine, and I thanked him, prancing my way back to Mal and feeling quite pleased with myself. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down a muddy walkway between two houses. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Nobody saw me. He just thought I was another peasant girl."
"We can't take risks like that."
"So you don't want a bite?"
He hesitated. "I didn't say that."
"I was going to give you a bite, but since you don't want one, I'll just have to eat the whole thing myself."
Mal grabbed for the roll, but I danced out of reach, dodging left and right, away from his hands. I could see his surprise, and I loved it. I wasn't the same clumsy girl he remembered.
"You are a brat," he growled and took another swipe.
"Ah, but I'm a brat with a sweet roll. — Leigh Bardugo

Can I be honest with you?" he asked.
"Aren't you always? And brutally so?"
"I never realized you were a woman."
She choked on a laugh of surprise. "Excuse me?"
"Inside my head ... " he pointed, just in case she didn't know what a head looked like. "Inside my memories? You were always a little girl, like Izzy. Just a girl, skipping around, getting into trouble, and mouthing off. I never noticed you'd turned into a woman."
Though the comprehension of the way he viewed her stung like the burn on her hand, she gave his broad chest beneath that worn-out gray Marines T-shirt an understanding pat with her unburned hand. "I know. It happens to the best of us female types."
His big hand came up and captured hers against his chest.
"Annie?"
"yeah?"
His gaze slowly traveled over her face, down to her lips, then back to her eyes. "I'm noticing now. — Candis Terry

The oversize jar that held Regan's collection of beach glass was stored at the back of his closet, shoved there years ago because, like so much else in the house, it triggered bad memories. But as he pulled it out and carried it downstairs, the edges of his dark mood lifted for the first time all day. The sweet, generous side of Regan's nature would have loved passing on her precious beach stones to Livia, one little girl to another.
As he descended the stairs that his sister had raced up and down a dozen times a day, something brushed past him. Something warm. Invisible. He stopped where he was and shut his eyes, the glass jar cool in his hands, his sister's face vivid in his mind.
Regan smiling at him. A smile that said Be happy. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

My dear sweet girl. You take on so much. You feel things so deeply. But you will be happy, my darling. You will shine. — Cynthia Hand

I see the glow before I see her. The orange light is so strong it's hard to believe the house isn't on fire, but when feet appear at the top of the staircase, I can finally see that the light isn't coming from the house. It's coming from her.
My heart beats so fast I can't tell the pulses apart - it's one harsh thrum inside my head. If I'm a Smurf, this girl is an Oompa Loompa. No. Not even. It looks like she walked out of a horror movie. She really is on fire, burning from the inside out.
I'm staring, but I can't help it. Everyone would be staring if they could see what I see. — Erica Cameron

Good Morning - Midnight
I'm coming Home
Day - got tired of Me
How could I - of Him?
Sunshine was a sweet place
I liked to stay
But Morn - didn't want me - now
So - Goodnight - Day!
I can look - can't I
When the East is Red?
The Hills - have a way - then
That puts the Heart - abroad
You - are not so fair - Midnight
I chose - Day
But - please take a little Girl
He turned away! — Emily Dickinson

It's hard when you look a certain way. I look All-American, sweet, girl-next-door, so naturally those are the parts that are going to land on my doorstep. — Melissa Joan Hart

Nowadays you have to be a scientist if you want to be a killer. No, no, I was neither. Ladies and gentleman of the jury, the majority of sex offenders that hanker for some throbbing, sweet-moaning, physical but not necessarily coital, relation with a girl-child, are innocuous, inadequate, passive, timid strangers who merely ask the community to allow them to pursue their practically harmless, so-called aberrant behavior, their little hot wet private acts of sexual deviation without the police and society cracking down upon them. We are not sex fiends! We do not rape as good soldiers do. We are unhappy, mild, dog-eyed gentlemen, sufficiently well integrated to control our urge in the presence of adults, but ready to give years and years of life for one chance to touch a nymphet. Emphatically, no killers are we. Poets never kill. — Vladimir Nabokov

I am reminded of a story of Lord Krishna when he was a cowherd. Every night he invites the milkmaids to dance with him in the forest. They come and they dance. The night is dark, the fire in their midst roars and crackles, the beat of the music gets ever faster - the girls dance and dance and dance with their sweet lord, who has made himself so abundant as to be in the arms of each and every girl. But the moment the girls become possessive, the moment each one imagines that Krishna is her partner alone, he vanishes. So it is that we should not be jealous of God. — Yann Martel

Pre-forty, you can wash your face with Tide and use Vaseline for moisturizer, toss on a little mascara and lip gloss, and you're a friggin' cover girl. Those of us on the slippery slope that is the Other Side of Forty can testify
those days are so over. You pore over labels promising everything short of actual rebirth
you will buy most of them for an average of $450 per quarter once
and none of them will work. You will still be getting older and poorer with every passing purchase. — Jill Conner Browne

I saw this girl, she looks so sweet, I wonder why, I'm so scared to meet. I think about her everyday, I wake, I sleep and hope and pray, For that one day She will come to me And I will say, You are the one I wish to stay — Ryan Russell

Brooke stared in surprise. "You brought me lunch?"
"I was in the neighborhood."
She checked out the label on the bag. "DMK is twenty minutes from here."
"I was in that neighborhood, and now I'm here," he said in exasperation. "Seriously, woman, you are impossible to feed." He strode over and set the bag on her desk. "One cheeseburger with spicy chipotle ketchup and a side of sweet potato fries - chosen specifically for a certain spicy and sweet girl I know - and a green dill pickle for your eyes. So there." He crossed his arms over his chest.
Brooke studied him. "You seem very ornery right now."
"As a matter of fact, I am."
"Why?"
"I don't know," he huffed. "Just ... eat your Brooke Burger. Stop asking so many questions. Sometimes a guy just wants to buy a girl lunch. Any objections to that? Good. Enjoy your Sunday, Ms. Parker."
He strode out of her office, gone as quickly as he'd appeared.
Brooke stared at the doorway and blinked. — Julie James

I pushed her shiny blond hair away from her face and leaned down, our faces only inches apart. She inhaled softly, our lips so close I could feel her breath and the scent of her skin, like honeysuckle in springtime. She smelled like sweet tea and old books, like she had always been here.
I pulled my fingers through her hair and held it at the back of her neck. Her skin was soft and warm, like a Mortal girl's. There was no electric current, no shocks. We could kiss for as long as we wanted. If we had a fight, there wouldn't be a flood or a hurricane, or even a storm. I wouldn't find her on the ceiling of her bedroom. No windows would shatter. No exams would catch fire.
Liv held up her face to be kissed.
She wanted me. — Kami Garcia

Sleep tight in the secure arms of your daddy. I know I have. He'll be good at making you feel safe.
When you're scared, let him remind you that he's right there, always ready to hold you when you need it.
More than anything, I want to tell you this: You are a fighter. You are strong. You are brave. You can accomplish anything you set your mind to. This world is yours to make the most of, and I believe you will live a life so full of happiness that I will feel it from above.
Never let others bring you down. Their words don't change who you are. You are in control of who you are. You, my sweet Lila Kate, are your mother's daughter. We fight for what we want and what we believe in. We don't listen to others, and we are secure in who we are. Show the world how amazing Lila Kate Carter is, and climb mountains, baby girl. Climb them all. — Abbi Glines

You'll win her with ya Irish charm and green eyes, so ya will. Now drink up ya coffee and stop whining like a baby. This girl's gonna have a fantastic night tomorrow. She's gonna worship da ground ya c**k drags on. — JoAnne Kenrick

Death comes to me again, a girl
in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling.
It's not so terrible she tells me,
not like you think, all darkness
and silence. There are windchimes
and the smell of lemons, some days
it rains, but more often the air is dry
and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase
built from hair and bone and listen
to the voices of the living. I like it,
she says, shaking the dust from her hair,
especially when they fight, and when they sing. — Dorianne Laux

I'm just a girl from Flatbush, Bo. There's nothing special here.""You're so wrong.""I know what people think. To friends and family I'm sweet and helpless. To guys I'm a body.""Your body is spectacular. I'm not going to pretend I don't see that. But I can have any body. You've lit something inside me. And it's you, not your assets.""You don't know me. We've hardly scratched the surface.""That's why I need time. I want to know your story, your dreams, your longings. Every part I see makes me want more." He was speaking her own desire to understand him, because his real self called to her more strongly than anyone she'd known , even people she'd known for years. — Kristen Heitzmann

Dear Girl,
You got into my drought life as a fortune seed, you shed your tears to grow up the seed, when the seed was toddling, u poured your love to protect from the threats, now it's grown up well as a tree and ready to be a shadow for the creator who cares it love it protect it so called my sweet lovely Girl. — Sam Nelson

I have a girl crush on Rachel Bilson. She's so cute, I just want to put her in my pocket. I love her style, and I'm fascinated by everything she wears, and I think she's a really sweet and kind person. She's cute. I like her. — Alexandra Chando

The thing about me loving Harry is I'm twelve and he's maybe thirty or thirty-five, whatever, so he'll have to wait like six years for me to grow up. I mean if he kills Hiskott and sets us free, he'll have to wait. He'll never do that. As kind and sweet and brave as he is, he probably has a girl already a hundred others chasing after him. So what I'll have to do is always love him from afar. Unrequited love. That's what they generally call it. I'll love him forever in a deeply, deeply sad kind of way, which maybe you think sounds pretty depressing, but it isn't. Being obsessed about a deeply sad unrequited love can take your mind off the worse things, of which there are thousands, and sometimes it's better to dwell endlessly on what you can't have than on what might happen to you at any moment in Harmony corner. — Dean Koontz

We'd already talked in the stacks, and I knew you were different from any other girl I'd met. And you told me that your parents were dead, and I thought that you were so ... lost and vulnerable. So when I saw you in the physics lab ... and I saw you try and take care of someone that you thought who had been through what you'd been through; could be that ... well, generous, and thoughtfull ... " Guy said.
"But you hardly knew me." said Willow
"I know ... I didn't know that we'd even talk again, or that if we did, if we'd get along, or maybe you were seeing someone else ... I just knew that the way you tried to protect someone's life that, especially given your situation ... I just ... I though that you had to be the most special girl I would ever meet ... — Julia Hoban

I suppose this is what I meant when I wrote what I did, sweet pea, about how it is we cannot possibly know what will manifest in our lives. We live and have experiences and leave people we love and get left by them. People we thought would be with us forever aren't and people we didn't know would come into our lives do. Our work here is to keep faith with that, to put it in a box and wait. To trust that someday we will know what it means, so that when the ordinary miraculous is revealed to us we will be there, standing before the baby girl in the pretty dress, grateful for the smallest things. — Cheryl Strayed

Gary Robinson died hungry.

He wanted fried chicken, the three-piece box for $2.19. Drunk, loud, and obnoxious, he pushed ahead of seven customers on line at a fast-food chicken outlet. The counter girl told him that his behavior was impolite. She calmed him down with sweet talk, and he agreed to step to the end of the line. His turn came just before closing time, just after the fried chicken ran out.

He punched the counter girl so hard her ears rang, and a security guard shot him - three times. — Edna Buchanan

But we should not cling! A plague upon fundamentalists and literalists! I am reminded of a story of Lord Krishna when he was a cowherd. Every night he invites the milkmaids to dance with him in the forest. They come and they dance. The night is dark, the fire in their midst roars and crackles, the beat of the music gets ever faster - the girls dance and dance and dance with their sweet lord, who has made himself so abundant as to be in the arms of each and every girl. But the moment the girls become possessive, the moment each one imagines that Krishna is her partner alone, he vanishes. So it is that we should not be jealous with God. — Yann Martel

Jeb smiles - a genuine Jebediah Holt grin, complete with dimples. Such a beautiful distraction. "I love you, skater girl."
The nickname winds through me, comforting and sweet. I smooth my palm across his shoulder. "Say it again."
"I love you."
"No ... the other part," I plead.
He pulls my body to his, so our mouths come together in a warm, soft kiss. "Skater girl," he whispers against me, brushing hair from my face. — A.G. Howard

I have no idea what I've done wrong, so I shrink back and he catches it. He points a finger at me, "Don't. Don't do that." Then he sighs, "Fuck me." Placing my hair behind my ear, he murmurs an awestruck, "So much sweet tucked behind the fierce. I don't know what to do with you, girl. You're killin' me. — Belle Aurora

This isn't the girl I fell in love with. My sweet, giving, patient, loving, caring, fun-loving Skye disappeared when you were kidnapped. I'm so scared I'll never get her back. — J.L. McCoy

The trouble is, when you gift a girl with flowers your choice can be construed so many different ways. A man might give you a rose because he feels you are beautiful, or because he fancies their shade or shape or softness similar to your lips. Roses are expensive, and perhaps he wishes to show through a valuable gift that you are valuable to him.
When a man gives you a rose what you see may not be what he intends. You may think he sees you as delicate or frail. Perhaps you dislike a suitor who considers you sweet and nothing else. Perhaps the stem is thorn, and you assume he thinks you likely to hurt a hand too quick to touch. But if he trims the thorns you might think he has no liking for a thing that can defend itself with sharpness. There's so many ways a thing can be interpreted. — Patrick Rothfuss

Subject: Challenge accepted
Mr. Zaccadelli,
If you keep this up, I'm going to report you to the workplace hotline for harassment. They don't take kindly to tattooed, guitar-playing dudes making advances toward sweet, innocent girls. Game ON.
Sincerely,
The Girl You Will Never Have
P.S. Esquire? You are so full of shit. — Chelsea M. Cameron

Nice slippers," Davin grinned. They were green and furry. "Thanks." I shrugged and looked him over, half expecting to see a new injury. "So what's up?" He had one hand behind his back. — J.M. Richards

The sleep that flits on baby's eyes - does anybody know from where it comes? Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where, in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with glow-worms, there hang two timid buds of enchantment. From there it comes to kiss baby's eyes.
The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps - does anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumour that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning - the smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps.
The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby's limbs - does anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the mother was a young girl it lay pervading her heart in tender and silent mystery of love - the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on baby's limbs. — Rabindranath Tagore

He slipped his hands around my waist and pulled me against him, tossing the ice cream cone over his shoulder. It landed with a splat on the sidewalk. "So does that mean I have a varsity girlfriend?"
I giggled like a total girl and linked my hands behind his neck. "Yeah I guess it does."
"Sweet." Then he bent his head, and I stood up on my tiptoes and we met in the middle. And it was perfect. — Stephie Davis

Nothing they say or do can ever change the man you are," Trinity continued. "A man I love with all my heart, and Nan does too. They don't matter; their words mean nothing."

I stared back at her as I allowed what she said to really sink in. She was right. I knew she was right. I just got so lost in the anger I had for them that I let their words eat away at me.
"Have I told you lately how amazing you are?"
I asked as she cocked her head in the cute quirky way she did when I gave her a compliment.
"Because you are, and the way you calm me, the way you give me a sense of clarity even in my weakest of times, just confirms how perfect you are."

"I'm not perfect, Chase," she whispered in return and it was my turn to take her face in my hands.

"You're perfect for me," I whispered as I tilted my head toward hers and pressed my lips against hers. "I love you, sweet girl, so damn much. — C.A. Harms

So much light, sweet girl, begins in the dark. — Catherynne M Valente

Out of the starless night that covers me,
(O tribulation of the wind that rolls!)
Black as the cloud of some tremendous spell,
The susurration of the sighing sea
Sounds like the sobbing whisper of two souls
That tremble in a passion of farewell.
To the desires that trebled life in me,
(O melancholy of the wind that rolls!)
The dreams that seemed the future to foretell,
The hopes that mounted herward like the sea,
To all the sweet things sent on happy souls,
I cannot choose but bid a mute farewell.
And to the girl who was so much to me
(O lamentation of this wind that rolls!)
Since I may not the life of her compel,
Out of the night, beside the sounding sea,
Full of the love that might have blent our souls,
A sad, a last, a long, supreme farewell. — William Ernest Henley

The smell of cigarette smoke in the air in a tavern that changes names often,
a bar cursed because of a girl who died of a drug overdose
in the basement, we put a few coins in the jukebox;
chose "Angel Band" by Johnny Cash and sat down at the bar,
ordered a soda, you wanted a whiskey on the rocks.
We saw the coal miner who moved here from West Virginia
knocking back liquor like I drink sweet tea.
No one asked why he was so solemn today.
It was warm. It was relatively quiet.
To anyone else, this place could feel sinister.
But to us, it was freedom. It was a hiding place.
No one was ever here long enough to know us.
And we liked it that way. — Taylor Rhodes

Nobody ever says "sweet girl" about someone they were in love with. It's like the whole "we'll still be friends" thing. It means you didn't feel enough.'
He was briefly amused. 'So what would I have said if I had been in love with her?'
'You would have looked very serious, and said, "Karen. Complete nightmare," or shut down and gone all "I don't want to talk about it. — Jojo Moyes

I was six years old when my mother died. For a long time afterward, the sweet and earthy magnolia scent of her would permeate my dreams. No matter what I was dreaming about, good or frightening, my mother's smell would waft through my nighttime adventures, infusing them with her unseen presence, reassuring me even through their darkest moments. I never told anyone about this. I felt that, somehow, my mother had found a way to communicate with me from heaven even though I knew from the down-to-earth practicality of my Baptist Sunday School lessons that it was likely impossible. Still, I have heard it said more than once that with God, nothing is impossible. Is it so hard to imagine that He, in His infinite compassion, might have, for a moment in time, comforted a scared little girl with her mother's familiar scent? — Earlene Fowler