Sorry I'm Nothing To You Quotes & Sayings

I'm sorry," he said in a soft voice while leaning closer to her, "for taking liberties earlier. I hope I didn't offend you."

"You kissed me," she answered, equally quietly, then laughed out loud. "I was a little shocked at first, perhaps, but I'm over it."

"Over it?" His heart sank. Not the reaction he'd hoped. Perhaps he was out of practice.

"I rather enjoyed it, if you must know. It has been a long time since I've had such a kiss. Nothing like a bold and lingering kiss. How I've missed it. Ah, now you look shocked. Good. I've had my revenge. — Sherri Browning

You'll be sorry some day. Why don't you ever understand what I'm trying to tell you: it's with your six sense that you're fooled into believing not only that you have six senses, but that you contact an actual outside world with them. If it wasn't for your eyes, you wouldn't see me. If it wasn't for your ears, you wouldn't hear that airplane. If it wasn't for your nose, you wouldn't smell that midnight mint. If it wasn't for your tongue taster, you wouldn't taste the difference between A and B. If it wasn't for your body, you wouldn't feel Princess. There is no me, no airplane, no mind, no Princess, no nothing, you for krissakes do you want to go on being fooled every damn minute of your life? — Jack Kerouac

Yes, I'm sorry for you - sorry to see you throwing away happiness with both hands and reaching out for something that would never make you happy. I'm sorry because you are such a fool you don't know there can't ever be happiness except when like mates like. If I were dead, if Miss Melly were dead and you had your precious honorable lover, do you think you'd be happy with him? Hell, no! You would never know him, never know what he was thinking about, never understand him any more than you understand music and poetry and books or anything that isn't dollars and cents. Whereas, we, dear wife of my bosom, could have been perfectly happy if you had ever given us half a chance, for we are so much alike. We are both scoundrels, Scarlett, and nothing is beyond us when we want something. We could have been happy, for I loved you and I know you, Scarlett, down to your bones, in a way that Ashley could never know you. And he would despise you if he did know... — Margaret Mitchell

Mikhail had come striding towards us with guardian efficiency, ready to find out what task I had in mind. He came to a screeching halt when he saw Sonya get out of the car. So did she. They both stood frozen, eyes wider that seemed physically possible. I knew then that the rest of us had ceased to exist, as had all our intrigue, missions, and ... well, the world. In that moment, only the two of them existed.
Sonya gave a strangled cry and then ran forward. This jolted him awake, in time to wrap her in his arms as she threw herself against him. She started crying, and I could see tears on his face too. He brushed her back and cupped her cheeks, staring down at her and repeating over and over, "It's you ... it's you ... it's you ... "
Sonya tried to wipe her eyes, but it didn't do much good. "Mikhail -I'm sorry-I'm sorry-"
"It doesn't matter." he kissed her and pulled back only enough to look into her eyes. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except that we're together again. — Richelle Mead

Last night ... I'm sorry if I was too forward with you." He paused. "Celaena, you're grimacing."
Had she been making a face? "Er- sorry."
"It did upset you, then!"
"What did?"
"The kiss!"
... "Oh, it was nothing," she said, thumping her chest as she cleared her throat. "I didn't mind it. But I didn't hate it, if that's what your thinking!" She immediately regretted saying it.
"So, you liked it?" He grinned lazily.
"No! Oh, go away!" She flung herself onto her pillows, pulling the blankets over her head. She was going to die from embarrassment. — Sarah J. Maas

Here's one of the things I learned that morning: if you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning. It's like that old riddle about a tree falling in a forest, and whether it makes a sound if there's no one around to hear it.
You keep drawing a line farther and farther away, crossing it every time. That's how people end up stepping off the edge of the earth. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to bust out of orbit, to spin out to a place where no one can touch you. To lose yourself
to get lost.
Or maybe you wouldn't be surprised. Maybe some of you already know.
To those people, I can only say: I'm sorry. — Lauren Oliver

Whoa," Becky said, because the baby kicked her hard in the bladder.

Felix startled, backing up and nearly falling over a chair.

"Sorry, I was whoa-ing because right when you came in, the baby kicked, not because you're Felix Callahan. Oh, you know what it reminded me of ? When Elisabeth's baby kicks just as Mary greets her? Isn't that funny? As if I had some spiritual sign when I saw you."

Annette smiled, her eyebrows raised. Felix glared handsomely. Becky stamped down a desire to squirm.

"No, it's not terribly funny," Felix said, "particularly as I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Elisabeth, wife of Zacharias, cousin to Mary, mother of Jesus? No? Nothing?"

Felix looked at her with a careful lack of amusement.

"Oh, maybe you don't have the Bible in England. See, there's this guy named Jesus and his mother is named Mary, and well, it's a really interesting read if you don't mind parables. — Shannon Hale

The past doesn't exist. There is nothing to be sorry for. Today is when we start to live. Look ... look at the sea. The sea has no past. It is just there. It will never ask us to explain. The stars, the moon are there to light our way, to shine for us. What do they care what might have happened in the past? They are accompanying us, and are happy with that; can you see them shine? The stars are twinkling in the sky; would they do that if the past mattered? Wouldn't there be a huge storm if God wanted to punish us? We are alone, you and I, with no past, no memories, no guilt, nothing that can stand in the way of ... our love. — Ildefonso Falcones

Do you know what I think about crying? I think some people have to learn to do it. But once you learn, once you know how to really cry, there's nothing quite like it. I feel sorry for those who don't know the trick. It's like whistling or singing. — Anne Rice

I think that many people do not know what empathy is. They think empathy is understanding their own selves and then connecting with like-minded individuals, who of course will understand them since they all share the same ideas. Empathy has nothing to do with likemindedness; it has to do with being able to feel the things that others feel, even when you do not share the same ideas, life story, or absolutely nothing at all! When I hear someone say, "I don't understand you", that makes me feel sorry for them. I can even understand a rock, and they can't understand me? My pet rocks have more empathy than they do. — C. JoyBell C.

I want a life with you, Annie. I want to make love with you until you can't walk. And have kids with you. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out, but I'm not exactly used to having love feel good. He poked his finger in the rough direction of her face. "You talked about being a romantic. Romance is nothing! It's a tiny word that doesn't come close to what I feel for you. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Amy: So. Are you proposing to someone? The Doctor: Sorry? Amy: I found this in your pocket. The Doctor: No. No no. That's a memory. Friend of mine. Someone I lost. Would you ... mind. Amy: It's weird. I feel ... I dunno, something. The Doctor: People fall out of the world sometimes but they always leave traces. Little things we can't quite account for. Faces in photographs. Luggage. Half-eaten meals. Rings. Nothing is ever forgotten, not completely. And if something can be remembered it can come back. — Steven Moffat

Isolfr," Frithulf said, "you weigh a hundred stone."
"Do I? Sorry," and he tried to straighten, but nothing was working.
Frithulf swore and said,"Kari, I think I'm going to need you to get his feet."
Are they running away? Isolfr wanted to ask. — Sarah Monette

Wanted to love you. I've wanted to take all the hurt away, to hold you and protect you and make you laugh, and smile, and show you what love is. I've wanted to show you for so long that you are worthy of being loved, for exactly who you are. And I tried to deny that, I tried to convince myself ... that I wasn't good enough, that I would do nothing but hurt you. And I have. And I'm sorry. I was afraid. I was afraid of loving someone as delicate and beautiful and unique as you. I knew I only had one chance, and I was terrified I would make a mess of it and you'd only become sadder, and more convinced you were unlovable. I was afraid of my own shortcomings, and because of that I hurt you. — Sara Wolf

You know the typical crowd, Wow, it's Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there? Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. That's all. Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. — Charles Bukowski

I'm sorry I made an oath. I did it because I thought it was the right thing to do. And I'm sorry that I can't break it. But you have to believe me that it's always been you. I promise. I promise." His voice cracked and my hands shook. "I promise, because when I look upon these stars, there is nothing I wish for more than you. — T.J. Klune

Ari ... I will always love you. I always have.Nothing will change that." I squeezed her hand, then gently released it. "You'll always be a part of me. But ... I'm not in love with you ... anymore.And despite my promise,despite seeing you again, I do this because I want to be with Meghan, nothing else" Ariella's eyes glazed over, and I eased back, speaking as gently as I could "I can't be yours, Ariella. I'm sorry. — Julie Kagawa

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

I woke to find the sun streaming through the bedroom window. Looking up with one eye opened and the other still closed, I saw that Luca was awake, lying on one side and looking down on me.
"Good morning. Do you want to talk Adriana?"
"No, I just want to fuck. Oh, good morning by the way."
"For a prospective sub you are becoming a little demanding."
"Sorry, am I not supposed to want sex?"
"There's absolutely nothing wrong with you wanting sex, in fact it is a condition of you being here in bed with me. It's just that a good little sub waits to be asked."
"Sorry. Then of course I will withdraw that demand and lie here to await your pleasure."
"Good, a fast learner, that's what I like. — Rachel De Vine

You have to live your life like you'll never be sorry. It's easier just to do the right thing from the start so there's nothing to apologize for. Not that I'm one to talk. — Jennifer Niven

I'd make oatmeal cookies."
"Cookies?"
"I would. That's just what I would do."
"Why?"
He lifts one hand from the steering wheel and pinches his chin. "Because the world is changing so fast all the time. There's nothing you can do but just say, 'cool,' and roll with it. But some things can stay the same. Flour is still flour. Vanilla still smells like vanilla. Say a giant fireball is motoring toward us right now from Alha Centauri. Okay, universe. You expect us to run and scream and kill one another? Sorry, we're making oatmeal freaking cookies. — R.A. Nelson

There's something to that in both directions," said Ekaterin mildly. "Nothing is more guaranteed to make one start acting like a child than to be treated like one. It's so infuriating. It took me the longest time to figure out how to stop falling into that trap."
"Yes, exactly," said Kareen eagerly. "You understand! So - how did you make them stop?"
"You can't make them - whoever your particular them is - do anything, really," said Ekaterin slowly. "Adulthood isn't an award they'll give you for being a good child. You can waste ... years, trying to get someone to give that respect to you, as though it were a sort of promotion or raise in pay. If only you do enough, if only you are good enough. No. You have to just ... take it. Give it to yourself, I suppose. Say, I'm sorry you feel like that, and walk away. But that's hard. — Lois McMaster Bujold

Boyfriend #10
Peter Sosa, Age Twenty-Nine
What is it? You're married, aren't you?"
"No, no, nothing like that." He paused, leaving Jane to imagine. "I have a girlfriend. I'm sorry. I'm not cheating, she's right over there, at the table by the window. She made me a bet that I couldn't make the first girl I asked out fall in love with me. Some movie she saw, thought it would be romantic, then it went too far ... "
Jane's language would have made Britney the longshoreman blush down to her boots. — Shannon Hale

She stared at him. His eyes were glazed, glassy, blazing with triumph behind his glasses, and as his lip curled in a sneer, she felt it happen.
Her love for him - whatever shred of it was left - was gone. It had slunk away into the night. It would die out there, and she would not be sorry to leave it, at the side of the road, in a no-name town surrounded by nothing but blackness.
Quietly, she said, "Knew what, exactly?"
He licked his lips.
"I knew you'd never turn into such a whore without a little help."
"Good-bye."
The word was out, and she was gone. — Kat Rosenfield

I'm sorry, Caulder, but I'm not ready for another relationship. I don't know if I ever will be ready." Saying this to him now hurt as much as a slug to her abdomen. But it had to be said.
"Then we don't have one. We're business partners first, and I'll respect your wishes. I won't stand in your way, and I won't pursue you. I'll pretend I don't want to kiss your lips." His eyes lingered on the aforementioned. "You being in the stands photographing or videotaping my every move will mean nothing to me." He laughed. "Dammit, I don't believe that myself. It is what it is, Velia. — Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

When she came back down, Sam and Astrid had arrived.
Sam hugged Dekka, and the two of them stayed that way for a long time, saying nothing. Both had loved Brianna.
To Edilio, Sam said, "I'm so sorry, man. I wish I'd . . . You know what I wish."
Edilio fought back a fresh rush of tears, nodded, waited until he was sure he could speak, and said, "I'm glad you're back, boss. — Michael Grant

Um, Bella? You've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's gushing blood," he informed me.
I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet and sticky. I could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea.
Oh, I'm so sorry, Jacob." I pushed hard against the gash, as if I could force the blood back inside my head.
Why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and and pulled me to my feet. — Stephenie Meyer

Why would I go when everything I love is here?" "Who?" he said gruffly. "Hamlet with his charming manners? My poor unmanned brother upstairs? My mother-henning captain?" She smiled. "No." "Kendrick?" "Not even Kendrick." He was silent for a very long time. Then he looked away. "Whom do you love?" he asked, as if he couldn't have possibly cared less about the answer. "You, of course." He looked back at her then, but said nothing. "You're a wonderful man, Richard. I'm not sorry I had to travel over seven hundred years to find you. And I sincerely hope that betrothal contract was binding, because I have no intention of seeing it broken. — Lynn Kurland

Rolling flat onto his back, Drake shuddered. Then he inhaled deeply. He stared up at the night sky. "We're going to win," he said, his voice calmer, less strained. "This is nothing. Keep going. They can't stop us. Jason, give Rachel the necklace. Tell her ... tell her I'm sorry. Tell her ... I wanted ... to show her ... my little valley. Tell her I tried."
His voice was growing weak. Farfalee smoothed a hand over his brow. "Shhh," she whispered. "Be still, Drake. You can rest now. You did it. Rest. We'll take it from here."
"Failie," he whispered, his hand twitching toward the back of his neck with little jerks. "Where's my seed?" His head tipped sideways. The breath went out of him. — Brandon Mull

Piers looked up at him. 'You're new. What's your name?'
'Neythen, my lord.'
'Sounds like a terrible illness. No, more like a bowel problem. I'm sorry, Lord Sandys, your son has contracted neythen and won't live a month. No, no, there's nothing I can do. Sandys would have preferred hearing that to syphilis. — Eloisa James

I don't know anything that gives me greater pleasure, or profit either, than talking or listening to philosophy. But when it comes to ordinary conversation, such as the stuff you talk about financiers and the money market, well, I find it pretty tiresome personally, and I feel sorry that my friends should think they're being very busy when they're really doing absolutely nothing. Of course, I know your idea of me: you think I'm just a poor unfortunate, and I shouldn't wonder if your right. But then I dont THINK that you're unfortunate - I know you are. — Plato

Sorry. I had an execution that ran over." Corbin frowned. "You come from executing one of my kind and act like it means nothing? Tell me, Addison, how would you feel if I said something like that to you? 'Sorry I couldn't be on time, I was draining some human dry and it took longer than I thought. — Evangeline Anderson

Sometimes you go a long time having fooled yourself into thinking that you're as grown-up as you'll ever be, or that you're more mature than the rest of the world thinks you are, and you live in this state of constant self-assurance, and for a while nothing can upset you from this pedestal you've built for yourself, because you imagine yourself to be so capable. And then somebody does something that takes a golf club to your ego, and suddenly you're nine years old again, pieced together from humiliation and gawky youthfulness and childlike ideas like, Somebody please tell me what to do, nobody taught me how to handle this, God, just look at all the things I still don't understand, and you can't muster up the presence of mind to do anything but stand there, stare, silent, sorry. — Riley Redgate

I'm putting all my drama on you again."
He hung his head. "Yeah, you are."
"I'm so sorry."
... "On the plus side, when you get worked up your tits start heaving up and down with each breath. Magnificent. Honestly, I can't get enough of it." Little lines appeared on his forehead as his hands demonstrated the apparently bouncy-boob-like motions in front of his chest. "I'm tempted just to say shit to get you started, I love it so much."
In the face of his broad grin, I had nothing. — Kylie Scott

I believe we were discussing your dissatisfaction with life as the most popular man in London.'
Her voice rose on the last four words, and Colin realized he'd been scolded. Soundly.
Which he found extraordinarily irritating. 'I don't know why I thought you'd understand,' he bit off, hating the childish tinge in his voice but completely unable to edit it out.
'I'm sorry,' she said, 'but it's a little difficult for me to sit here and listen to you complain that your life is nothing.'
'I didn't say that.'
'You most certainly did!'
'I said I *have* nothing,' he corrected, trying not to wince as he realized how stupid that sounded.
'You have more than anyone I know,' she said, jabbing him in the shoulder. 'But if you don't realize that, then maybe you are correct - your life is nothing. — Julia Quinn

Why do you call this dog Mohammed?" asked the bearded man. "Because that's his name." "You should not have called this dog Mohammed." "I didn't call the dog Mohammed," Charlie said. "His name was Mohammed when I got him. It was on his collar." "It is blasphemy to call a dog Mohammed." "I tried calling him something else, but he doesn't listen. Watch. Steve, bite this man's leg? See, nothing. Spot, bite off this man's leg. Nothing. I might as well be speaking Farsi. You see where I'm going with this?" "Well, I have named my dog Jesus. How do you feel about that?" "Well, then I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd lost your dog." "I have not lost my dog." "Really? I saw these flyers all over town with 'Have You Found Jesus?' on them. It must be another dog named Jesus. Was there a reward? A reward helps, you know." Charlie — Christopher Moore

After we ate we was silent on our blankets looking out across the mighty Great Divide I never seen this country before it were like a fairy story landscape the clear and windy skies was filled with diamonds the jagged black outlines of the ranges were a panorama.
You're going to ride a horse across all that.
I know.
He laughed and he were right I knew nothing of what lay ahead.
See that there he pointed. That is called the Crosscut Saw and that one is Mount Speculation and yonder is Mount Buggery and that other is Mount Despair did you know that?
No Harry.
You will and you'll be sorry. — Peter Carey

I'm sorry," I whisper. My cold lips fumble the words.
"Don't be." His voice is a low rumble against me, the sound carrying through my bones, clearer than any of the voices I've been hearing. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. — Amie Kaufman

Into trouble we didn't need. And I tried to talk Khaderbhai out of it. I tried to get them to stop. But I didn't feel anything about it, even when they killed Madjid. And I . . . I used to like him, you know? I liked old Madjid. He was the best of them, in a way. But I didn't feel anything when he died. And I didn't feel it, not even a bit, when Khader told me he had to leave you in jail and let you get beaten up. I liked you - more than I liked anyone else - but I didn't feel bad or sorry. I kind of understood it - that it had to happen, and it was just bad luck that it was happening to you. I felt nothing. And that's when it hit me - that's when I knew I had to get away. — Gregory David Roberts

President Boyd K. Packer, "I am sorry to tell you that it will not get better." President Packer goes on to say: "I know of nothing in the history of the Church, or in the history of the world to compare with our present circumstances. Nothing happened in Sodom and Gomorrah which exceeds in wickedness and depravity that which surrounds us now. Words of profanity, vulgarity, and blasphemy are heard everywhere. Unspeakable wickedness and perversion were once hidden in dark places; now they are in the open, and even accorded legal protection. At Sodom and Gomorrah these things were localized. Now, they are spread across the world, and they are among us". — Mechelle McDermott

I've not won different awards - many, many times - so luckily I've practiced that whenever you are nominated for anything, you enter into this marvelous, fantabulous bubble called the bubble of nomination. The minute the envelope is opened and your name isn't called out, the bubble bursts. And no one calls you up the next day to say, 'So sorry you didn't win,' or 'You looked gorgeous - nothing. If you win, you get about another 24 hours in that lovely bubble and then - pop - you are slightly wet all over from the bubble and realize that you have to get on with real life. — Helen Mirren

I am so sorry. I'm more sorry than I've ever been in my life. I don't mind being on restriction and having to clean the school. I can even live with the fact that everybody's mad at me, but I hate that I hurt you."
"Do you love this guy?"
"No! He means nothing. The kiss meant nothing."
Tristan looked me straight in the eyes, his stare pinning me to the ground. "That makes it worse, you know. I know you think that somehow it will make me feel better, but it doesn't. You threw away everything, and it wasn't even for someone that mattered. — Eileen Cook

I was rough before. I'm sorry."
The apology, so quiet and unexpected, embarrassed her. "Forget it." She shifted away, drained her cup, set it aside.
"I won't forget it; neither will you." He took her hand, lifted it to his lips. Nothing could have pleased him more than the quick suspicion on her face. "You won't forget me, Eve. You'll think of me, perhaps not fondly, but you'll think of me."
"I'm in the middle of a murder investigation. You're part of it. Sure, I'll think of you. — J.D. Robb

He's better-looking then the last vagabond I had to take in," Eddie said, standing and carrying empty bowls to the sink. "I'll give him that."
The insult slid off of Bobby like water. "So, you know, kid, according to thief culture, if you're going to court Kat, you now owe me two dozen goats."
"It's a dozen," Eddie corrected.
"Yeah, but Kat's worth two," Hamish said with a wink.
Through it all, Hale said nothing. Then, finally, he smiled. "I'm afraid I'm all out of goats at the moment, but I've got some ruby cuff links you can have."
"No." Bobby shook his head. "It's goats or nothing."
"Sorry, Kat." Hale shrugged, disappointed. "It was fun while it lasted."
"Don't look at me." Kat threw up her hands. "I'm officially ignoring all of you. — Ally Carter

Mallory, I lo - "
"Wait!" This was from Amy, and she looked at Mallory. "I'm sorry, but don't you think you should tell him about the car before he finishes that sentence?"
"No," Mallory said, giving Amy the evil eye. She wanted the rest of Ty's sentence, dammit!
Ty frowned. "What's wrong with the Shelby?"
"Nothing," Mallory said quickly.
"Nothing," Amy agreed. "Except for the dinged door where she parked too close to the mailbox."
"Oh my God," Mallory said to her. "What are you, the car police?"
"The classic car police," Amy said smugly.
"You parked the Shelby on the street?" Ty asked Mallory incredulously.
She went brows-up.
"Okay," he said, lifting his hands. "It's okay. Never mind about the car. — Jill Shalvis

I'm sorry about the floor," she whispered. "I hope you'll be able to fall asleep." "Oh, I won't be able to sleep, and it won't be because of the floor." Heat splashed over her, sending a fresh flush over her skin. Her mind scrambled to find an appropriate answer, but she could think of nothing except the softness of his hands. "Good night, Priscilla," he whispered. — Jody Hedlund

I'm sorry that I couldn't bring my extensive mask collection to London in my trunk. I had to make do. And you said nothing about my dress."

"That should have been self-evident. Instead of blending in, you will be the center of attention."

"Well, it can't be changed now. Do you want to pull out your copy of She Walks in Beauty and spend the next hour acting moody? — Tarun Shanker

Mattie, I'm sorry to drag you away." "Don't worry about it. It's late. My mother always said nothing good happens after midnight." I barked out a surprised laugh. "Your mother, clearly, is not a Sidhe. — Belinda M. Gordon

He had proved nothing, he had made no viable gesture of atonement, and he knew now that he probably never would. If he could have talked with Quint's ghost now he could only have said: "I'm sorry; there's nothing more I can do."
And Quint, he knew, would have said: "Right; you're absolutely right about that. ( ... )"
How then could he feel so good. What possible right did he have to be at peace with himself?
He didn't know. All he knew that day ( ... ) all he knew with any clarity was that he was nineteen years old, that the war was over, and that he was alive. — Richard Yates

Her words echoed through her head as she entered her room. Ask God. She had been doing that. Or had she? Abigail stared at the floor. Had she really asked, or had she merely told God what she wanted and then waited for his approval of her plans? She feared she had done the latter. Perhaps that was why she hadn't received an answer. Slowly, she sank to her knees and bowed her head in prayer. Father in heaven, I'm sorry. I trust you. I know you have plans for me, and they're better than my plans. Show me your plan. There were no answers, nothing but the feeling of peace that filled her heart. That was enough for now. The answers would come. — Amanda Cabot

from the poem Holographic Personality Disgrace:

Some people are such assholes that saying, "Look, again, I'm sorry I cut off my thumb and glued it to your baby's head because I thought you'd like him better as a unicorn" means nothing to them. — Sam Pink

And what's a-trouble to you, Jackie?"
"Father," I said, feeling I might as well get it over while I had him in
good humour, "I had it all arranged to kill my grandmother."
He seemed a bit shaken by that, all right, because he said nothing
for quite a while.
"My goodness," he said at last, "that'd be a shocking thing to do.
What put that into your head?"
Father," I said, feeling very sorry for myself, " she's an awful woman. — Frank O'Connor

But there's nothing to be done about it. All I can do is put in time waiting for the inevitable, observing as the ghosts of my past rattle around my vacuous present.
They crash and bang and make themselves at home, mostly because there's no competition. I've stopped fighting them. They're crashing and banging around in there now. Make yourselves at home, boys. Stay awhile. Oh, sorry - I see you already have.
Damn ghosts. — Sara Gruen

I'm so sorry I have this. I can't stand the thought of how much worse this is going to get. I can't stand the thought of looking at you someday, and this face I love, and not knowing who you are."
She traced the outline of his jaw and chin and the creases of his sorely out of practice laugh lines with her hands. She wiped the sweat from his forehead and the tears from his eyes.
"I can barely breathe when I think about it. But we have to think about it. I don't know how much longer I have to know you. We need to talk about what's going to happen."
He tipped his glass back, swallowed until there was nothing left, and then sucked a little more from the ice. Then he looked at her with a scared and profound sorrow in his eyes that she'd never seen there before.
"I don't know if I can. — Lisa Genova

You lose what individualism you have, if you have enough of course, you retain some of it, but most don't have enough, so they become watchers of game shows, y'know, things like that. Then you work the 8 hour job with almost a feeling of goodness, like you're doing something, and you get married, like marriage is a victory and you have children like having children is a victory, but most things people do are a total grind, marriage, birth, children, it's something they HAVE to do because they have nothing else to do. There is no glory in it, no esteem, no fire, their lives are flat and the earth is full of them. Sorry, but thats the way I see it. I could not accept the snail's pace 8-5, Johnnie Carson, merry christmas, happy new year, to me it's the sickest of all sick things. — Charles Bukowski

There we met Distance, a hardened ANC fighter with the looks and physique of an adventure movie-star. It was a quiet day and one of us mentioned Abdul. Distance looked at us and then said: "I am not sorry your friend Abdul was killed. It is good that one of you dies. Nothing personal, but now you feel what is happening to us every day. — Greg Marinovich, Joao Silva

Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams
1
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next
summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do
and its wooden beams were so inviting.
2
We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do no know what I am doing.
3
I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the
next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.
4
Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor! — Kenneth Koch

We used to talk about death, she said. We don't anymore. Why is that?
I don't know.
It's because it's here. There's nothing left to talk about.
I wouldn't leave you.
I don't care. It's meaningless. You can think of me as a faithless slut if you like. I've taken a new lover. He can give me what you cannot.
Death is not a lover.
O yes he is.
Please don't do this.
I'm sorry.
I can't do it alone. — Cormac McCarthy

The human moral keyboard is limited, Adam One used to say: there's nothing you can play on it that hasn't been played before. And, my dear Friends, I am sorry to say this, but it has its lower notes. — Margaret Atwood

I brought you Diet Coke to compensate," he said, opening the cooler. "Also, this conversation is boring." "Right. Sorry." She took the can he handed her and popped it open. "Really sorry. There's nothing more boring than talking about food." "No," Cal said. "Talking about food is great. Talking about not having food is boring. — Jennifer Crusie

Curiosity broke her earlier resolve. "Have you ever been tested?"
"No." He stood behind Sara, holding the camera in front so she could see. "Zoom here," he said, flicking the toggle.
"You could probably-"
"This is macro."
"Will-"
"Super macro." He kept talking over her until she gave up. "Here's where you adjust for color. This is light. Anti-shake. Red-eye." He clicked through the features like a photography instructor.
Sara Finally relented. "Why don't I point and you shoot?"
"All right." His back was stiff, and she could tell that he was irritated.
"I'm sorry I-"
"Please don't apologize."
Sara held his gaze for a few moments longer, wishing she could fix this. There was nothing to say if he wouldn't even let her apologize. — Karin Slaughter

I wasn't ready for the guilt of being a parent. I was raised Catholic, so guilt is a familiar friend. Guilt is as much a part of the Catholic culture as is rooting for Notre Dame. I grew up with a "God is watching you, so you better not make him mad" mentality. I felt guilty for feeling good, for feeling bad, and for feeling nothing. Attending Confession was supposed to alleviate some of the guilt, but I always ended up feeling guilty for not telling the priest everything I felt guilty about, so I stopped going to Confession. Then I felt guilty that I stopped going to Confession. That's a lot of guilt. Just when I thought that nothing could top "Catholic Guilt," I became acquainted with "Parental Guilt," which totally puts "Catholic Guilt" to shame. Sorry, Catholic Guilt. Now I feel guilty for shaming you. — Jim Gaffigan

Princess Caspida, I have nothing but respect and admiration for you. Truly you will be the queen this city needs. But I can't marry you."
The princess stands still as stone, her face unreadable. "Why not, Prince Rahzad?"
"I am sorry," he replies. "The truth is, I am in love, but not with you."
He turns to me, and my spirit takes flight like a flock of doves, startled and erratic. I cannot move, cannot speak, as he takes my hands in his and looks me earnestly in the eye. He presses the ring into my palm, and the gold feels as if it burns my skin.
"This belongs to you, and you alone. I've been so blind, Zahra. So caught up in the past that I've failed to see what's happening in front of me. I've been such an idiot, I don't know how I can expect anything from you. But I have to try. I have to tell the truth, and the truth is . . . I love you. — Jessica Khoury

She settled into a sitting position, wincing. "Oh, my poor rear end. I hope you appreciate what I went through to get here."
Alain watched her anxiously. "You have hurt your ... "
"My butt. Yeah." She returned his gaze, puzzled. "I'll survive. Why are you blushing?"
"Blushing?" His face felt warm. What did that mean?
"Yes." Mari laughed. Does talking about my butt embarrass you? I'm sorry. It's nothing special."
"I ... " His face felt even warmer. "I think it is."
"You do, huh? Where have you been all my life?"
This time he gave her a mystified look. "I sent almost all of it inside a Mage Guild Hall. The one in Ihris. You know this."
Mari laughed again. — Jack Campbell

There's nothing worse than having someone moping around feeling sorry for themselves, is there?"
"A damned nuisance," he agreed lightly as he drew her into the private car. "How much did you take me for in there?"
It took her a minute to realize he'd changed the subject. "Oh,I don't know-five,six hundred."
"I'll put breakfast on your tab," he said as the doors opened to his and Serena's suite. Her laugh pleased him as much as the hug she gave him.
"Just like a man," Serena stated as she came into the room. "Waltzing in with a beautiful woman at the crack of dawn while the wife stays home and changes the baby." She held a gurgling Mac over her shoulder.
Justin grinned at her. "Nothing worse than a jealous woman. — Nora Roberts

Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Slaying a villain in the service of your king is the stuff of legends and what heroes are made of." [Fanen told Myron]
"It didn't feel very heroic. It made me sick. I don't even know why I ... no, that's a lie. I really have to stop doing that." [Myron said]
"Doing what?"
"Lying. ( ... ) It's evidence of self loathing. You see, when you are so ashamed of your actions, thoughts, or intentions, you lie to hide it rather than accept yourself for who you really are. The idea of how others see you becomes more important than the reality of you.
"It's like when a man would rather die than be thought of a coward. His life is not as important to him as his reputation. In the end, who is the braver? The man who dies rather than be thought of as a coward or the man who lives willing to face who he really is?" [Myron finished]
"I'm sorry, you lost me there" Fanen said with a quizzical look. — Michael J. Sullivan

Please," he says. "I'm begging you to stop."
I still.
"I can't stomach your pain," he says. "I can feel it so strongly and it's making me crazy- please," he says to me. "Don't be sad. Or hurt. Or guilty. You've done nothing wrong."
"I'm sorry-"
"Don't be sorry, either," he says. "God, the only reason I'm not going to kill Kent for this is because I know it would only upset you more. — Tahereh Mafi

I'll tell you all about it, but let's eat first. I've had nothing to eat. Although I was offered some raw squirrel. Canned pudding, that's what I want. I've been dreaming about it."
She hauled out a can and feverishly worked the can opener. She didn't wait for a dish or spoon, but thrust her hand in and scooped some into her mouth. Then she stood transfixed, overwhelmed by the wonderful sweetness of it.
She was crying when she said, "I'm sorry, I've forgotten how to be polite. I'll get you guys your own can."
Sam hobbled over and scooped some pudding of his own, following her lead. "I'm way past polite myself," he said, although she could see he was a little appalled by her wolfish behavior. She decided then that she liked him. — Michael Grant

I grin at her enthusiasm. "Did you like the little gun-finger I flashed you after that goal? All for you, baby."
She grins back. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but you were actually pointing at the old guy a few seats over. He totally freaked out and started shouting to everyone that you scored that goal for him, and then I heard him ask his wife if maybe you knew that he was just diagnosed with diabetes, so I didn't have the heart to tell him who the goal was really for."
I break down in laughter. "Why is nothing ever simple with us?"
"Hey," she protests. "We're more interesting this way."
I can't argue with that. — Elle Kennedy

He inhaled sharply. "I'm glad to have you back."

I nodded, swallowing thickly. "I'm glad to be back."

"Hell, we all can agree on that." Luke picked up a donut. "There's nothing creepier than having a psychotic Apollyon caged in the basement."

"Ha," I said.

Luke winked and then tossed the donut to me. I caught it. Sugar flew everywhere.

"Or waiting for her to break loose and run amuck," Deacon added as I took a bite. He glanced across the table. "Or waiting for someone, no names mentioned, to not listen to us and go say hi."

Olivia's cheeks reddened as she stood. She approached slowly, waited for me to finish chewing. I started to apologize. "I'm really sorry - "

She socked me in the stomach. Hard. I doubled over, gasping for air. "Gods. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I tell you, it scares me what I have done to her. It terrifies me, even. And yet I am not sorry. I am as deeply unsorry as a person could be. There is nothing that one human will not do to another. — Lidia Yuknavitch

I love orgasms. I say a prayer of thanks to God for them every day."
"You say a prayer of thanks for orgasms?" Elle asked.
"Of course. I mean, they're a gift from God, right? A woman doesn't need to have an orgasm to get pregnant, right?"
"Right."
"So if they have nothing to do with reproduction, then why do women have them?" Kryie asked. She raised her hand and pointed a finger up at hte ceiling, at the sky, where God lived. "Orgasms are God's way of saying He's sorry about periods and cramps."
"Apology accepted," Elle said. — Tiffany Reisz

Sorry doesn't mean anything! Not when you're still with him. It's not just that you cheated - it's that he's still here, and you're still with him. It just goes on and on, and it hurts every single time I see you with him. I hate it that he makes you smile, and that there's nothing I can do to stop this. I can't think straight, and everything hurts, and nothing makes sense anymore. You're shredding my heart with one hand and stroking his ego with the other. And it's killing me, Faythe. You're killing me. And it's only going to get worse, now that everyone knows. — Rachel Vincent

I'm confused, Beatrice," she says. "What exactly do you want us to do?"
"I didn't come here to ask you for help," I say. "I thought you should know that a lot of people are going to die, very soon. And I know you don't want to stay here doing nothing while that happens, even if some of your faction does."
She looks down, her crooked mouth betraying just how right I am.
"I also wanted to ask you if we can talk to the Erudite you're keeping safe here," I say. "I know they're hidden, but I need access to them."
"And what do you intend to do?" she says.
"Shoot them," I say, rolling my eyes.
"That isn't funny."
I sigh. "Sorry. I need information. That's all. — Veronica Roth

What are you looking at, Matthias?" The low thrum of her voice vibrated straight through him.
He kept his eyes on the ceiling, whispering softly. "Nothing."
"Matthias, are you praying?"
"Possibly."
"For restraint?" she said sweetly.
"You really are a witch."
"I'm not proper, Matthias."
"I am aware of this." Miserably, keenly, hungrily aware.
"And I'm sorry to inform you, but you're not proper either."
His gaze dropped to her now. "I - "
"How many rules have you broken since you met me? How many laws? They won't be the last. Nothing about us will ever be proper," she said. She tilted her face up to his. So close now it was as if they were already touching. "Not the way we met. Not the life we lead. And not the way we kiss. — Leigh Bardugo

I looked over at the others. "Anyone have tree-climbing issues?"
Obviously Ash and I didn't. Daniel, Hayley, and Corey said they'd be fine. Chloe hoped she would - she had gymnastics training. Mr. Bae joked that it would be his first time in a couple of decades. Derek said nothing.
"Derek?"
"It looks like I'll be the guy doing the distracting. I'm not trusting a tree branch to hold me."
"You're not playing decoy," Chloe said. She turned to us. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds like a cop-out, but he really can't. The last time we were in a fight against the St. Clouds, the orders were to tranq all of us except Derek. For him, it was shoot to kill. They don't trust werewolves."
"I think they've calmed down," Derek said. "They've been watching us for months and haven't tried to assassinate me yet."
Chloe put her hands on her hips. "And that's your definition of acceptance? Not going out of their way to kill you?" — Kelley Armstrong

I'm sorry I cannot say I love you when you say
you love me. The words, like moist fingers,
appear before me full of promise but then run away
to a narrow black room that is always dark,
where they are silent, elegant, like antique gold,
devouring the thing I feel. I want the force
of attraction to crush the force of repulsion
and my inner and outer worlds to pierce
one another, like a horse whipped by a man.
I don't want words to sever me from reality.
I don't want to need them. I want nothing
to reveal feeling but feeling - as in freedom,
or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond,
or the sound of water poured into a bowl. — Henri Cole

That boy," he said. "I've done him ever favor I could. Some folks you can't do nothing with. Just sorry. God knows I've done plenty of drinking and stuff in my time, but I be damn if I ever tried to cheat anybody out of any money. — Larry Brown

Hera: Ohh, Thalia Grace, when I get out of here, you'll be sorry you were ever born.
Thalia: Save it! You've been nothing but a curse to every child of Zeus for ages. You sent a bunch of intestinally challenged cows after my friend Annabeth
Hera: She was disrespectful!
Thalia: You dropped a statue on my legs.
Hera: It was an accident!
Thalia: AND you took my brother — Rick Riordan

I never change.
MRS. CHEVELEY: (elevating her eyebrows) Then life has taught you nothing?
LADY CHILTERN: It has taught me that a person who has once been guilty of a dishonest and dishonorable action may be guilty of it a second time, and should be shunned.
MRS. CHEVELEY: Whould that rule apply to everyone?
LADY CHILTERN: Yes, to everyone, without exception.
MRS. CHEVELEY: Then I am sorry for you, Gertrude, very sorry for you. — Oscar Wilde

Arjuna asked Sri Krishna, "In this chaotic condition of my mind, what is my duty? I surrender myself to you, great Master. Please tell me."
The answer of Bhagavan Sri Krishna is, "You understand nothing. You draw conclusions without proper understanding of the structure of life and your relationship to people or things in general. It is a very sorry state. How can you draw conclusions without proper premises? If you draw a conclusion based on a wrong premise, the conclusion is also wrong. Therefore, all that you have been told up to this time is without any foundation because you do not know either yourself or the world. — Swami Krishnananda

You're a slave? (Eleni)
I was. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. (Acheron)
Take your cloak off and sit, Acheron. You've done nothing to apologize for. I admire you all the more for stopping to help us. It's nothing for a nobleman to do so, yet they seldom bother to help those less fortunate. For a freedman to speak up in defense of another takes great courage and character. What you did is all the more noble and kind, and I would be honored to have you sit at my table with us. (Acheron) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I am beginning to be sorry that I ever undertook to write this book. Not that it bores me; I have nothing else to do; indeed, it is a welcome distraction from eternity. But the book is tedious, it smells of the tomb, it has a rigor mortis about it; a serious fault, and yet a relatively small one, for the great defect of this book is you, reader. You want to live fast, to get to the end, and the book ambles along slowly; you like straight, solid narrative and a smooth style, but this book and my style are like a pair of drunks; they stagger to the right and to the left, they start and they stop, they mutter, they roar, they guffaw, they threaten the sky, they slip and fall ...
And fall! Unhappy leaves of my cypress tree, you had to fall, like everything else that is lovely and beautiful; if I had eyes, I would shed a tear of remembrance for you. And this is the great advantage in being dead, that if you have no mouth with which to laugh, neither have you eyes with which to cry. — Machado De Assis

Adrian." I laid my hand over his an felt a warm spark of connection. He jerkedd his head toward me in astonishment. "Nothing he said could change what I think of you. I've had my mind made up about you for a longe time ... and it's all good."
Adrian looked away form me and down to where my hand covered his. I blushed and pulled away. "Sorry." I'd probably freaked him out.
He glanced back up at me. "Best thing that's happened to me all day. Let's hit the road. — Richelle Mead

I abstain from any kind of release for six weeks before a fight, no self-pleasure, nothing. Even in my dreams, I'll be about to have sex with a beautiful girl and I'll say, 'Sorry darling, I'm fighting in a few weeks.' That's control, bro, when you're turning down a hot chick in your subconscious. — David Haye

Corvid looked up at her. "Oh, hello Doris."
"Gertie, dear," she said. "They call me Gertie."
"You used to be Doris," Corvid said as a matter of fact.
"Who?" She seemed unsure of what she was being told.
"Doris, daughter of Oceanus and Tethys?" Corvid carried on when he saw her blank expression. "You must remember Nereus? Your husband?"
Nothing.
"You gave birth to fifty sea nymphs. I guess sea nymphs come out slippy and hydrodynamic, but even so, fifty of them? That must stick in the memory as the day before you felt really sore for a month or so?"
Doris thought about it for a moment. "It does ring a bell. Sorry, who are you? — Dylan Perry

Maddie squirmed out from under him. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I know this is supposed to be physical. Impersonal. It's only that I keep thinking of lobsters."
He flipped onto his back and lay there, blinking up at the ceiling. "Until just now, I would have said there was nothing remaining that could surprise me in bed. I was wrong."
She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. "I am the girl who made up a Scottish lover, wrote him scores of letters, and kept up an elaborate ruse for years. Does it really surprise you that I'm odd?"
"Maybe not."
"Lobsters court for months before mating. Before the male can mate with her, the female has to feel secure enough to molt out of her shell. If a spiny sea creature is worth months of effort, can't I have just a bit more time? I don't understand the urgency. — Tessa Dare

Nothing Twice Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice. Even if there is no one dumber, if you're the planet's biggest dunce, you can't repeat the class in summer: this course is only offered once. No day copies yesterday, no two nights will teach what bliss is in precisely the same way, with exactly the same kisses. One day, perhaps, some idle tongue mentions your name by accident: I feel as if a rose were flung into the room, all hue and scent. The next day, though you're here with me, I can't help looking at the clock: A rose? A rose? What could that be? Is it a flower or a rock? Why do we treat the fleeting day with so much needless fear and sorrow? It's in its nature not to stay: today is always gone tomorrow. With smiles and kisses, we prefer to seek accord beneath our star, although we're different (we concur) just as two drops of water are. — Wislawa Szymborska

The captain said I could stay here for a while. Sorry for trying to kill you this winter. I was the one with the twin swords. Nothing personal. - Ren — Sarah J. Maas

Sorry for leaving without saying hi. But something came up as soon as I got there."

Now that wasn't going to do, so I pressed on. "Did you think I'd be there?"

He didn't come fast with a response. Instead, his absorbed smile pried my soul, my insides felt tensed, like a queen tiptoeing around the edge of a chessboard, wholly vulnerable in a game she knew nothing about. — C.C. Wyatt

I felt sorry for her, baby, guilty and responsible. That's all it was. Once she started talking about you, I could have thrown her off the deck with no remorse. I know there are no words that can take away what you saw, just please say you understand. Liz is nothing to me, Evan, but you...you're everything. — Lilly Black

Annabeth," he said hesitantly, "in New Rome, demigods can live their whole lives in peace."
Her expression turned guarded. "Reyna explained it to me. But, Percy, you belong at Camp Half-Blood. That other life - "
"I know," Percy said. "But while I was there, I saw so many demigods living without fear: kids going to college, couples getting married and raising families. There's nothing like that at Camp Half-Blood. I kept thinking about you and me ... and maybe someday when this war with the giants is over ... "
It was hard to tell in the golden light, but he thought Annabeth was blushing. "Oh," she said ...
"I'm sorry," he said. "I just ... I had to think of that to keep going. To give me hope. Forget I mentioned - "
"No!" she said. "Gods, Percy, that's so sweet. — Rick Riordan

I've supported the punishment. Your brother needed to pay for what he did. I don't disagree. He was a jealous, scheming fifteen-year-old. But the people did nothing wrong. All these years you have used them to punish him. It is enough. It's time to move on." Imogenia stood up, holding her book. "I'm sorry, Father, but I do not agree. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to read in my room." At that, she disappeared through the wall. — L.R.W. Lee

If you would just listen to me . . . if you would just look at the pictures I took - "
"We've seen them, Miss Maxwell. Several times already. Frankly, nothing you've said tonight checks out - not your statement, and not these grainy, unreadable images from your cell phone."
"I'm sorry if the quality is lacking," Gabrielle replied, acidly. "The next time I'm witnessing a blood slaughter by a gang of psychos, I'll have to remember to bring my Leica and a few extra lenses. — Lara Adrian

When I was a med student, the first patient I met with this sort of problem was a sixty-two-year-old man with a brain tumor. We strolled into his room on morning rounds, and the resident asked him, "Mr. Michaels, how are you feeling today?" "Four six one eight nineteen!" he replied, somewhat affably. The tumor had interrupted his speech circuitry, so he could speak only in streams of numbers, but he still had prosody, he could still emote: smile, scowl, sigh. He recited another series of numbers, this time with urgency. There was something he wanted to tell us, but the digits could communicate nothing other than his fear and fury. The team prepared to leave the room; for some reason, I lingered. "Fourteen one two eight," he pleaded with me, holding my hand. "Fourteen one two eight." "I'm sorry." "Fourteen one two eight," he said mournfully, staring into my eyes. And then I left to catch up to the team. He died a few months later, buried with whatever message he had for the world. — Paul Kalanithi

Off with you" is a phrase used by people who lack the courtesy to say something more polite, such as "If there's nothing else you require, I must be going," or "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave, please," or even "Excuse me, but I believe you have mistaken my home for your own, and my valuable belongings for yours, and I must ask you to return the items in question to me, and leave my home, after untying me from this chair, as I am unable to do it myself, if it's not too much trouble. — Lemony Snicket

First of all, you don't want me to get too hungry. Ever. I'm an ever worse bastard than normal and having starved for centuries, I'm not about to deprive myself again when I don't have to. Second, let me tell you something about your 'friends.' Deimos held me down while I was branded and then took me to the human realm where I was left with nothing. No clothes, no money. Not a damn thing to call my own. Hence the aforementioned starvation. A hundred years later, M'Ordant dumped my inside a Spartan prison camp and told the commander I was a traitor to their people. You don't really want to know what the Spartans did to people they thought betrayed them. D'Alerian had me put inside a Turkish prison in the fifteenth century where I was impaled after being tortured for three weeks. So you'll have to excuse me if I have a hard time feeling too sorry for them right now. At least no one's shoving a sharp spike up their asses. (Jericho) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Monroe is about sixty miles outside of New York City. It's home to approximately eight thousand people. It's a small community where most everyone knows one another. There's nothing but strip malls and second-tier grocery chains you never see elsewhere. If you click on the "Attractions" tab on TripAdvisor's Monroe page, it brings up a message that says, "I'm sorry, you must have clicked here by mistake. No one could possibly be planning a trip to Monroe to see its 'Attractions.' I have a feeling about why you'd want to go to Monroe. Here, let me redirect you to a suicide-prevention site. — Aziz Ansari

Another voice rages.
I hate that boy! I hate me! I am so incredibly stupid!
A sunflower leans over the fence, smiling
How dare you!
I rip off its head and throw it in the gutter.
The smart thing to do is to keep going on. Walk away quickly and no one will know what I've done. But I can't move because my eyes are locked on the slowly opening front door - locked on Mrs Muir.
'I'm sorry.' My tiny voice sounds so pathetically lame, but I've still got more lameness for her. 'I never do this sort of thing. I like sunflowers. I was just angry about something - nothing to do with you or the flower. I'm really, really sorry.'
'Oh, you are upset! Well, never mind'. Mrs Muir comes closer to me. 'Goodness, we all get cross. The main thing is: did it make you feel any better?'
'No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit.'
'Would you like to do another one? There's more out the back, too. You go for your life dear. I don't mind at all - they need a good pruning. — Bill Condon

I've learned that feminism is for everybody and there's nothing wrong with taking up space in the world, even if you have to fight for it a little bit, and that if you don't feel like smiling or waving, that's okay. You don't have to, and you don't have to say sorry. Mostly, I've learned that I don't really care if you like these answers or not, because they're the best, most honest ones I've got, and I just don't feel like I can cheat myself enough to give you what you want me to say. — Libba Bray