They Can't Stop Me Quotes & Sayings

I started having some memory-loss issues. I took a neurological exam, and they said, "Well, you should stop fighting now." And I kept begging them for one more fight, one more fight, and the doctor said to me, "How much are they going to pay you?" I was supposed to fight three more times, and one would have been for a cruiser belt. So I said, "I just need to fight three more times." He said, "Listen, you can't even get hit in the head one more time, your neuro is so bad." — Mickey Rourke

After I saw how badly animals were treated to en up in our plates, how bad it was for our health and for the environment, I decided to stop this nonsense and educate others. After all, animals can't talk and they need people that have notoriety like me to be their voices. — Georges Laraque

I wonder if all mothers feel like this the moment they realize their daughters are growing up- as if it is impossible to believe that the laundry I once folded for her was doll-sized; as if I can still see her dancing in lazy pirouettes along the lip of the sandbox. Wasn't it yesterday that her hand was only as big as the sand dollar she found on the beach? That same hand, the one that's holding a boy's; wasn't it just holding mine, tugging so that I might stop and see the spiderweb, the milkweed pod, any of a thousand moments she wanted me to freeze? Time is an optical illusion- never quite as solid or strong as we think it is. You would assume that, given everything, I saw this coming. But watching Kate watch this boy, I see I have a thousand things to learn. — Jodi Picoult

I lift my arm out of the water. It's a log. Put it back under and it blows up even bigger. People see the log and call it a twig. They yell at me because I can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to me why my eyes work different than theirs. Nobody can make it stop. — Laurie Halse Anderson

I know I'm a champion. I know I've got it in me, they can't stop me. — Lil B

He buys Playboy magazines and looks through them once, then gives them to me. That's what it's like to be rich.
Here's what it's like to be poor. Your wife leaves you because you can't find a job because there aren't any jobs to find. You empty the jar of pennies on the mantel to buy cigarettes. You hate to answer the phone; it can't possibly be good news. When your friends invite you out, you don't go. After a while, they stop inviting. You owe them money, and sometimes they ask for it. You tell them you'll see what you can scrape up.
Which is this: nothing. — Tom Franklin

Tears flood in you
your eyes burning
your heart scars with my name scratched deep
My face is gone
my heart betrayed by your lullabies
I'm a shadow of a girl inside
Hands are touching you
nothing takes the place of you
Heart wrench, weeps goodbye
Lullabies, beautiful and trusting
Barely breathing as they break into dust
Lonely corners me
Sweeps me off my feet
Shows me it was better for me
Fingertips holding close
your grip not as soft
Follows me to an empty bed
I can't stop the weakening of my soul
my body is dying
your tune is holding my mind
Let me go
see what I do
No control
No you
You whisper your sweet goodbye
If it is small it won't interrupt my sleep
But my heart you keep
You say it's for me
But who would be happy?
Alone left out in the cold — Mercy Cortez

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

"Screw the oath." I lean in until I feel her breath against my face, then I stop. I don't want to rush her. "You've done enough for them. You're protecting me. Who cares about the rest?"
"I do." She closes her eyes,and her jaw quivers. "I swore to get you safely through this-and I will. And then you'll return with the Gales and meet your betrothed."
"They can take their betrothal and shove it. I want you."
Audra and Vane — Shannon Messenger

You can't be just a scribe, or a wizard. Nameless God," he cried, raking a hand through his hair. "I wish they had never found you, never made you think you were the princess. Nothing else, will ever be good enough, not now. You'll never be happy. You'll throw yourself into danger, take it all on yourself, just to prove that they were all wrong about you. And I just-I just-"
And without warning, he stepped on front of me, grabbed my shoulders to stop my pacing, and kissed me. — Eilis O'Neal

I often ask myself: Do I have the courage to let "tragedy" happen again? Qing Jin once said that life is full of rupture and that it is what it is. But does it really have to be this way? Everyone I've ever loved has treated me poorly. And when I was younger I treated others poorly too. Why? Why do people have to act so mean and stupid toward the ones they love? Can't we be a little more introspective and reach a level of self-awareness to stop hurting the ones we love? It must be possible. Mutual meanness and stupidity cause human tragedy and rupture to keep recurring. — Qiu Miaojin

I slip her shirt over her head and she tries to cover herself, but I move her arms out of the way and kiss up her neck while I talk about all the things that are no longer just mine.
'Will, stop.' She laughs and attempts to pull my hands away from her bra. 'You can't take off my bra, we're in our driveway. What if they come outside?'
'It's dark,' I whisper. 'And it's not your bra. It's our bra and I want it off.' I slip it off her, pulling her against me as I rub my hands down the length of her back, then around to the button on the front of her jeans. 'And I want to take off our pants. — Colleen Hoover

But how nice it would be to know that some good Yankee woman - And there must be SOME good Yankee women. I don't care what people say, they can't all be bad! How nice it would be to know that they pulled weeds off our men's graves and brought flowers to them, even if they were enemies. If Charlie were dead in the North it would comfort me to know that someone - And I don't care what you ladies think of me," her voice broke again, "I will withdraw from both clubs and I'll - I'll pull up every weed off every Yankee's grave I can find and I'll plant flowers, too - and - I just dare anyone to stop me! — Margaret Mitchell

Every year on my birthday I get a small dash on my inner thigh where my balls currently hang. You can't tell me that's not going to be a beautiful work of art when it's finished. My grandkids are playing with my balls, they can't figure it out. They're like, 'What are these things?' I'm like, 'It's your future, read the chart.' They don't stop growing; they're like earlobes. That joke was inspired by a door that wasn't locked when I was 11. — Daniel Tosh

I can't stop watching 'Pan Am.' When I was growing up, my father worked as an engineer in Turkey, and we always flew Pan Am. The stewardesses were so glamorous! When they gave me a set of those golden wings, I felt very grown-up. Not only is the show's plot full of mystery and infidelity, they get the period details just right. — Gayle King

But let me ask you this: when Canaan cloaked you with his wings and you disappeared from the Terrestrial realm, did you just...stop existing?"
"Of course not," I say, surprised by the question.
"It's the same thing, Elle. Ali and your mother have been cloaked by death. You can't see them, but they're not gone. Not really. Our spirits will outlive our physical bodies, so it's our spirits we have to take care of."

- page 285 — Shannon Dittemore

Claiming "the budget can't allow it" reminds me of when you walk into a restaurant at a civilized hour like ten o'clock and they say "the kitchen is closed." For years I would hear this, and think, "damn, just a little too late, oh well, thank you, I guess it's Denny's again."
And then one day it hit me: kitchens don't close. Just as at home, at a certain point in the night, I stop using the kitchen
but at three in the morning, if I want to, I still have the ability to go downstairs and "re-open" the kitchen by turning on the stove and opening the refrigerator! Restaurants are not banks; at the stroke of ten an enormous airlock doesn't seal off the kitchen and render the preparation of food an utter impossibility./ No, kitchens can open and budgets are what certain people say they are. — Bill Maher

You look furious," Pritkin said, watching me.
"I just - I can't understand not fighting for your life - for what you want. Just giving up - "
A corner of his mouth quirked. "No. You would not understand that. You never stop trying, do you?"
"What else is there?"
"Despair. Hopelessness. Anger. Depression."
"But those don't get you anywhere."
He huffed out something that might have been a laugh, only it didn't sound happy. "No. They don't. — Karen Chance

Leave that. Leave all that and join us here. There is no loneliness, no separation at all. No aching bones, no worn-out bodies. It's not what they told us, Fitz! All those warnings and dire predictions . . . faugh! The world will go on without us just as well as it did with us. Just let go.

I'm holding you tight. Keeping you part of me. It's like learning to swim. You can't find out how until you're all the way into the water. Stop clinging to the bank, boy. You only tear apart when you try to hold onto the shore. — Robin Hobb

It will never stop, Danny thought. The Overlook burned and the most terrible of its revenants went into the lockboxes, but I can't lock away the shining, because it isn't just inside me, it is me. Without booze to at least stun it, these visions will go on until they drive me insane. — Stephen King

It had worked in the past, being calm, acting as though everything were normal. She hoped it would work again. "Gavriel, we have to go. Stop being so scary."
At that, he looked over and smiled again, spinning Midnight in his arms as if they'd been dancing. Winter caught her and held her upright.
"I can wait a little longer," Gavriel said. "A very little longer."
"The car keys," Tana demanded, holding out a trembling hand. He fished in his pockets - an utterly normal gesture - then dropped them into her palm ceremoniously. She picked up the bag of cash and jewels from beside the hood of the car, shoving it into her purse.
"I won't always obey you," he said softly. "One night you will ask me for something I cannot give."
She'd started to relax, but his words sent a fresh spike of terror up her spine. — Holly Black

We have a long road ahead of us because of our pasts. We both still struggle on a daily basis, and I can't swear to you that will ever stop. But it doesn't feel impossible when I'm with you. You make me smile and laugh. You make things right even when the world feels completely wrong. Sarah, it's easy to remember why I should open my eyes every morning when the first thing they see is you. — Anonymous

Stop talking," she said boldly as she closed the distance between them until they were touching. "We can walk to the bedroom or you can carry me but if you don't decide soon I may just go insane. — Samantha Chase

One thing I don't need
is any more apologies
i got sorry greetin me at my front door
you can keep yrs
i don't know what to do wit em
they don't open doors
or bring the sun back
they don't make me happy
or get a mornin paper
didn't nobody stop usin my tears to wash cars
cuz a sorry. — Ntozake Shange

It doesn't matter what they do to me,' he said. 'It might even be better if they - stop me. But I need to know you're safe.'
'Oh, and so what you need is so important?' I spat, but really I was shaking at what he'd said. More like what he hadn't quite said. 'How can I know you're safe if I'm not here to save your pretty ass? — Amanda Sun

It'll be hard not to tease your folk sometimes."

Brishen couldn't imagine how she might go about such a thing. He had no idea if the Kai and the Gauri even knew the same jokes or found the same things funny. "What do you mean?"

He almost leapt out of his skin when Ildiko stared at him as both of her eyes drifted slowly down and over until they seemed to meet together, separated only by the elegant bridge of her nose.

"Lover of thorns and holy gods!" he yelped and clapped one hand across her eyes to shut out the sight. "Stop that," he ordered.

Ildiko laughed and pushed his hand away. She laughed even harder when she caught sight of his expression. "Wait," she gasped on a giggle. "I can do better. Want to see me make one eye cross and have the other stay still?"

Brishen reared back. "No!" He grimaced. "Nightmarish. I'll thank you to keep that particular talent to yourself, wife. — Grace Draven

Franz Kafka is dead. He died in a tree from which he wouldn't come down. "Come down!" they cried to him. "Come down! Come down!" Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. "I can't," he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. "Why?" they cried. Stars spilled across the black sky. "Because then you'll stop asking for me." — Nicole Krauss

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

I find it quite intriguing that the one observing me as different, immediately assumes that there's something wrong with me, but never, not even for one instant, questions the possibility of the opposite. It's truly amazing that the ones with more certainties, the most arrogant and the most selfish, are indeed the most stupid inside society. They are so dumb and ignorant that they can't see a writer in front of their nose. And the more the writer types, talks and thinks, the more they think that this separation, this difference, grants them some form of superiority. Indeed, the light pushes demons into hell. The brighter your light, the faster you differentiate others. The way of the light was never meant for the weak, which are a majority. And this majority will always ignore the light, as demons fearing and hating angels. And so, it's interesting that without artists God would not have a way to reach the world. And yet, without the ignorant, Satan wouldn't have a way to stop God. — Robin Sacredfire

All those posters and PSAs and health class presentations on body image and the way you can burst blood vessels in your face and rupture your esophagus if you can't stop ramming those sno balls down your throat every night, knowing they'll have to come back up again, you sad weak girl.
Because of all this, Coach surely can't tell a girl, a sensitive, body-conscious teenage girl, to get rid of the tender little tuck around her waist, can she?
She can.
Coach can say anything.

And there's Emily, keening over the toilet bowl after practice, begging me to kick her in the gut so she can expel the rest, all that cookie dough and cool ranch, the smell making me roil. Emily, a girl made entirely of donut sticks, cheese powder, and haribo.
I kick, I do.
She would do the same for me. — Megan Abbott

People can say what they want but it doesn't stop me from doing what I'm crazy about doing. — Austin Carlile

The heart fires off warning flares when something's not right - and hell if they aren't exploding in mine right now - but how the fuck do I stop wanting someone I know was made for me?
The answer's a clear-cut, jagged piece of glass. One I'm sure is gonna bleed me the fuck out at the end . . .
I can't. — Gail McHugh

Everything in New York is a photograph. All the things that are supposed to be dirty or rough or unrefined are the most beautiful things. Garbage cans at the ends of alleyways look like they've been up all night talking with each other. Doorways with peeling paint look like the wise lines around an old feller's eyes. I stop and stare but can't stay because men always think I'm selling something. Or worse, giving something away. I wish I could be invisible. Or at least I wish I didn't look like someone they want to look at. They stop being part of the picture, they get up from their chess game and come out of the frame at me, blocking my view. — Ann-Marie MacDonald

I'm not sure how to pin this feeling down. It's as elusive as the numbness that swirls inside my body. Every day, as the hours creep past, I find myself getting jittery, waiting for the sight of Oskar's tall figure striding into the cavern. And when he does, I can't stop the smile from spreading across my face - especially because his eyes search for me, and when they find me, he smiles right back. That in and of itself is magical ... — Sarah Fine

Do you realise the effect you have on
women?' I spread my palms over the tops of his thighs.
'Is it similar to the one you have on me?' He laces his fingers through mine. 'Do they stop
breathing for a few seconds every time they see me?' He presses his lips onto my temple and inhales
deeply. 'Do they want to keep me in a glass box so nothing and no one can hurt me?'
I almost stop breathing.
He sighs heavily, and I rise and fall on his chest 'Do they think their life would be over if I
wasn't here?' he finishes softly. — Jodi Ellen Malpas

I love roundabouts. I absolutely think they're the best invention, and I don't care who invented the pen, the biro; whoever invented the roundabout, they should be up there on that plinth that they've got going on in Trafalgar Square. You can have a little bit of fun with it, you know. Will I go? Will I not go? The other car might go in my lane. There's a bit of a dance going. It's like a samba. Because in this city, sometimes you just come to a sudden gridlock and you think, well I'm waiting for him, he's waiting for me, he's waiting for him, and you've got everyone looking at everyone - who will make the first move? And you begin to move and he begins to move and then you stop, and everyone's being really polite. But every day you get somebody who just doesn't care, a young lad and he doesn't give a monkey's. — Craig Taylor

You have visitors," Maximus stated.
...
"Stop"
I did at his commanding tone, and then cursed. I wasn't one of his employees-he had no right to order me around.
"No," I said defiantly. "I'm sweaty snd bloody and I want to take a shower, so whatever you have to say, it can wait."
Maximus lost his impassive expression an looked at me as if I'd suddenly sproute a second head. Vlad's brows drew together and he opened his mouth, but before he could speak, laughter rang out from the hallway.
"I simply must meet whoever has out you in your place so thoroughly, Tepesh," an unfamiliar British voice stated.
"Did I mention they were on their way down," Maximus muttered. — Jeaniene Frost

Failure cannot be erased. It is built in to a life and helps us grow. Failure cannot be erased, but it can be understood.
Most people carry around a load of feeling that they bury or pretend is not there because it is too painful and alarming to cope with or because it involved unbearable guilt. Anger against a parent, for example.
I knew the tide of woe was rising, that woe that seizes me like anger, and is a form of anger, and I didn't know what to do to stop it, so I got up and picked flowers, cooked my dinner, looked at the news, all the same usual routine that can ward off the devils or suddenly clear the air as when a thunderstorm seems to be coming and then dissipates ... .it always happens when there is a galaxy of problems that get knit together into one huge outcry against the sense of being abandoned or orphanhood ... — May Sarton

Parthenon looked to me like an even number two or four. And even numbers are against my heart
I don't want to have anything with them. They stand too fast on their legs, they're well-ordered, they don't wish to be moved, they're conservative, satisfied. All problems solved, all desires fulfilled, they can be calm. Odd numbers, they have a rhythm familiar to my heart. The life of the odd numbers is not comfortably arranged. They don't like the world as it is, they wish to change it, improve it, push it forward. They stand on one leg, and they have the other one raised, prepared to go on. They are leaving. Where? To the next even number, where they stop for a while, breathe in, and go on marching again. — Nikos Kazantzakis

I reach for the napkin, and as I do I catch sight of my hands. They are knobby and crooked, thin-skinned, and - like my ruined face - covered with liver spots.
My face. I push the porridge aside and open my vanity mirror. I should know better by now, but somehow I still expect to see myself. Instead, I find an Appalachian apple doll, withered and spotty, with dewlaps and bags and long floppy ears. A few strands of white hair spring absurdly from its spotted skull.
I try to brush the hairs flat with my hand and freeze at the sight of my old hand on my old head. I lean close and open my eyes very wide, trying to see beyond the sagging flesh.
It's no good. Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes, I can't find myself anymore. When did I stop being me? — Sara Gruen

Georg." Deda spoke softly. "Georg." "Yes, Papochka?" Tatiana's father said respectfully. No one loved Deda more than Papa, not even Tatiana. "Georg. You cannot keep the boy out of conscription. You can't." "Of course I can. He is only seventeen." Deda shook his neat gray head. "Exactly - seventeen. They'll take him." The look of trapped fear slid across Papa's face and was gone. "They won't take him, Papochka," said Papa hoarsely. "I don't even know what you're talking about." He was clearly unable to say what he felt: everyone stop talking and let me save my son the only way I know how. Deda sat back against the sofa cushions. — Paullina Simons

When would you like to go out with me so we can talk about it?" A grin flirts with his lips.
He's got her cornered.
And he knows it.
Janie chuckles, defeated. "You are such a bastard."
"When," he demands. "I promise, all my heart, I'll be your house elf for the rest of my life if I fail to meet you at the appointed date and time." He leans forward. "Promise," he says again. He holds up two fingers.
The bell rings.
They stand up.
She's not answering.
He comes around the table toward her and pushes her gently against the wall. Sinks his lips into hers.
He tastes like spearmint. She can't stop the flipping in her stomach.
He pulls back and touches her cheek, her hair. "When," he whispers. Urgently
She clears her throat and blinks. "A-a-after school works for me," she says. — Lisa McMann

It was hard telling those kids ... that I wasn't going to be there this year. And I knew I was going to miss them. I won't have an opportunity to see them again, unless they stop by the house. Now during the summer, I got lots of notes; kids would stop by the house. I'd be pulling weeds or something and they would come up and give me a hug and say, 'Oh, I can't believe it, this is so wonderful!' and just get very excited about it. It was hard not being in school. I would have loved to have gone back to school. — Christa McAuliffe

Men who have not been violated don't understand what it is like to have the edges of your body blurred - to feel that every inch of your skin is a place where fingers can press, that every hole and orifice is a place where others can put parts of their bodies. When your body stops being corporeal, your soul has no place to go, so it finds the next window to escape.
My soul left me when I was six. It flew away past a flapping curtain over a window. I ran after it, but it never came back. It left me alone on wet stinking mattresses. It left me alone in the choking dark. It took my tongue, my heart, and my mind.
When you don't have a soul, the ideas inside you become terrible things. They grow unchecked, like malignant monsters. You cry in the night because you know the ideas are wrong - you know because people have told you that - and yet none of it does any good. The ideas are free to grow. There is no soul inside you to stop them. — Rene Denfeld

Don't go to a museum with a destination. Museums are wormholes to other worlds. There are ecstasy machines. Follow your eyes to wherever they lead you, stop, get very quiet, and the world should begin to change for you. And if you see me, say something! We can talk about it together. — Jerry Saltz

My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you've been mean to someone, they won't believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it's time to stop being nice, then destroy them. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I can't help it either, the laughing: solemn gatherings, slow
ballads, pompous orations, any person or occasion that assumes I'll
offer my unreserved respect: I tend to find them all hysterical in the
end. Especially if someone similar is there to set me off. They don't
have to do much: I recognize what it looks like when somebody's
composure starts to strip itself away. They'll maybe cross their arms
with that twitchy, shaky, tension, or they'll grab down little wheezes
of embarrassed air, or they'll simply hood their faces under their
palm, trying to hide how fast they're slipping, how fast *we're*
slipping, because I'll be weakening with them by then, I'll be just as
lost, pulled equally tight against the moment when we both stop caring
and let it disgrace us
when we laugh. — A. L. Kennedy

It's a stupid question, really, as we've all got an expiration date. I guess the real question is not if, but when. As I was walking through the South Dakota Badlands - before I knew something was wrong with me - I had this thought: What if we all carried little timers that counted down the days of our lives? Maybe the timer's a bit dramatic. Just the date would do. It could be tattooed on our foreheads like the expiration date on a milk bottle. It might be a good thing. Maybe we'd stop wasting our lives worrying about things that never happen, or collecting things that we can't take with us. We'd probably treat people better. We certainly wouldn't be screaming at someone who had a day left. Maybe people would finally stop living like they're immortal. Maybe we would finally learn how to live. I've wondered — Richard Paul Evans

There was no way that I wanted him to stop touching me, even for a few hours. My pulse thudded as I glanced across at the camp bed. I cleared my throat. "Wel ... is there a reason we can't both take the bed? The sleeping bags zip together, don't they?" Alex stared at me without moving. "Would that be OK?" I asked, feeling nervous suddenly.
The lantern light made his eyes look darker, his hair almost black. He started to smile, a grin spreading across his face. "Yes, that would be extremely OK. — L.A. Weatherly

Stop!" His voice rings out sharply, hard as a slap. He releases me and I stumble backward. "Alex is dead, do you hear me? All of that - what we felt, what it meant - that's done now, okay? Buried. Blown away."
"Alex!"
He has started to turn away; now he whirls around. The moon lights him stark white and furious, a camera image, two-dimensional, gripped by the flash. "I don't love you, Lena. Do you hear me? I never loved you."
The air goes. Everything goes. "I don't believe you." I'm crying so hard, I can hardly speak.
He takes one step toward me. And now I don't recognize him at all. He has transformed entirely, turned into a stranger. "It was a lie. Okay? It was all a lie. Craziness, like they always said. Just forget about it. Forget it ever happened. — Lauren Oliver

When the sands run out for someone, don't stop them going. You can't give them anything to replace life. Do you think I didn't love Polett? That it meant nothing to me when she'd had enough and wanted out? It's just that, as well as love, you also have to know how to kill. It won't do you any harm to remember that. Ask your God - since you're on such good terms with him - what Polett told him when they finally met. — Magda Szabo

I don't believe it matters to me- that they're going to destroy it. Maybe it hurts so much that I don't even know I'm hurt. But I don't think so. If you want to carry it for my sake, don't carry more than I do. I'm not capable of suffering completely. I never have. It goes only down to a certain point and then it stops. As long as there is that untouched point, it's not really pain.
Where does it stop?
Where I can think of nothing and feel nothing except that I designed that temple. I built it. Nothing else can seem very important.
You shouldn't have built it. You shouldn't have delivered it to the sort of thing they're doing.
That doesn't mater. Not even that they'll destroy it. Only that it had existed. — Ayn Rand

There's nothing lonelier than grief. Sometimes I wanted to cry out to them all in the middle of History "Please please look at me help me can't you see how unhappy I am?"
But what would have happened? They would have gathered round making soothing noises helping me out of the room maybe offering me tissues ... and none of that would touch the deep dark ocean that circled silently inside. They could not see it touch it stop it. I didn't know any way to do that. — John Marsden

The funny thing about good people - people like Daneca - is that they really honestly don't get the impulse toward evil. They have an incredibly hard time reconciling with the idea that a person who makes them smile can still be capable of terrible things. Which is why, although she's accusing me of being a murderer, she seems more annoyed than actually worried about getting murdered. Daneca seems to persist in a belief that if I would just listen and understand how bad my bad choices are, I'd stop making them. — Holly Black

There's a thing - I've noticed it often. When I first say something, it's as if people don't hear me, they can't believe I'm saying it. Then they start to actually pay attention, they stop noticing that a teenage girl is talking and start to believe that it's worth listening to what I'm saying. — Jo Walton

I want to be in the arena. I want to be brave with my life. And when we make the choice to dare greatly, we sign up to get our asses kicked. We can choose courage or we can choose comfort, but we can't have both. Not at the same time. Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it's having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it's our greatest measure of courage. A lot of cheap seats in the arena are filled with people who never venture onto the floor. They just hurl mean-spirited criticisms and put-downs from a safe distance. The problem is, when we stop caring what people think and stop feeling hurt by cruelty, we lose our ability to connect. But when we're defined by what people think, we lose the courage to be vulnerable. Therefore, we need to be selective about the feedback we let into our lives. For me, if you're not in the arena getting your ass kicked, I'm not interested in your feedback. — Brene Brown

Why is it that everyone else can look like they're part of a zombie hunting party, but I still have to worry about fashion?"
He won't stop snickering. "You look like a leopard-spotted Shar-Pei."
I think those are the little pug-like dogs drowning in massive folds of skin. "You're scarring me, you know. It could haunt me for the rest of my life to be called a wrinkly little dog at the tender age of seventeen."
"Yup. A sensitive girl. That just defines you, Penryn. — Susan Ee

When you are trying to get a shot, you can't be pleasing everybody. And I tend to be sort of collaborative and a bit of a pleaser. And when I'm directing, people just sort of call me Black Hat Gabriela. Because suddenly they're like, "What happened to you?" Because I stop listening. And I feel strident. I feel rude. And I feel un-collaborative. — Liz W. Garcia

I can understand the teachers saying it's a gun at my head, but they've got the same gun at the parents' head at the moment. The parent goes up to the teacher and says, well, I'm not satisfied with what you're doing, and the teacher can say, well tough. You can't take him away, you can't move him, you can't do what you like, so go away and stop bothering me. That can be the attitude of some teachers today, and often is. But now that the positions are being reversed [with vouchers] and the roles are changed, I can only say tough on the teachers. Let them pull their socks up and give us a better deal and let us participate more. — Milton Friedman

I said to the social worker "Would you stop me from having a child of my own?" Of course, they wouldn't have been able to do that. I could well have had a child of my own, and there would be nothing they could have done about that. Anybody can have their own child. Doesn't matter if they are drug abusers or prostitutes or paedophiles, but when you want to adopt they put you through hoops, like infertility makes you less capable of being a parent. — Caroline Overington

Sometimes they threaten you with something - something you can't stand up to, can't even think about. And then you say, "Don't do it to me, do it to somebody else, do it to So-and-so." And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn't mean it. But that isn't true. At the time when it happens you do mean it. You think there's no other way of saving yourself, and you're quite ready to save yourself that way. You WANT it to happen to the other person. You don't give a damn what they suffer. All you care is yourself. — George Orwell

I'm driving home to change," Win said. "Then I'm dining at Merion." Mainliners never ate; they dined. "Care to join me?" "Sounds good," Myron said. "Wait a second." "What?" "Are you properly attired?" "I don't clash," Myron said. "Will they still let me in?" "My, my, that was very funny, Myron. I must write that one down. As soon as I stop laughing, I plan on locating a pen. However, I am so filled with mirth that I may wrap my precious Jag around an upcoming telephone pole. Alas, at least I will die with jocularity in my heart." Win. "We have a case," Myron said. Silence. Win made this so easy. "I'll tell you about it at dinner." "Until then," Win said, "it'll be all I can do to douse my mounting excitement and anticipation with a snifter of cognac." Click. Gotta love that Win. Myron hadn't driven a mile when the cellular phone rang. Myron switched it on. It was Bucky. "The kidnapper called again. — Harlan Coben

I open the red leather box and examine the earrings. They are beautiful: simple yet elegant, just like the enchanting Miss Steele ... who left me this morning because I punished her ... because I pushed her too hard. I cradle my head once again. But she let me. She didn't stop me. She let me because she loves me. The thought is horrifying, and I dismiss it immediately. She can't. It's simple: no one can feel like that about me. Not if they know me. — E.L. James

I had to stop traveling alone because I missed so many planes. When somebody runs up to you in the airport and begins to tell you their life story, you can't say, 'Excuse me, boo,' as they're weeping on your bosom. — Iyanla Vanzant

Stop them damn pictures! I don't care what the papers write about me. My constituents can't read. But, damn it, they can see the pictures! — Boss Tweed

I don't have time for their judgement and their stupidity and you know they lay down with their ugly wives in front of their ugly children and look at their loser lives and then they look at me and they say, 'I can't process it' well, no, you never will stop trying, just sit back and enjoy the show. You know? — Charlie Sheen

Dying for the world is not noble in anyway but a disgrace for the rest of the world itself, for those that don't do absolutely anything to support, help or even bleed. It's like going to war alone, while our friends cheer and applaud from the distance. It's not fun and doesn't make me proud in any way. Most so-called spiritual people in this world, are not spiritual, they think they are but they're braindead, they are living their own fantasies, their own Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings Stories, but not truly bleeding for life. And so, it's quite interesting when my friends do all they can to stop me from leaving them, from changing country, while at the same time, they give me no reason to justify being attached to them. — Robin Sacredfire

We were just talking about you," Jessamine said as Tessa found a seat. She pushed a sliver toast rack across the table towards Tessa. "Toast?"
Tessa, picking up her fork, looked around the table anxiously. "What about me?"
"What to do with you, of course Downworlders can't live in the Institute forever," said Will. "I say we sell her to the Gypsies on Hampstead Heath," He added, turning to Charlotte. "I hear they purchase spare women as well as horses."
"Will, stop it." Charlotte glanced up from her breakfast. "That's ridiculous."
Will leaned back in his chair. "You're right. They'd never buy her. Too scrawny. — Cassandra Clare

How many a time have I stood watching the toads mating, or a pair of hares having a boxing match in the young corn, and thought of all the important persons who would stop me enjoying this if they could. But luckily they can't. So long as you are not actually ill, hungry, frightened or immured in a prison or a holiday camp, spring is still spring. The atom bombs are piling up in the factories, the police are prowling through the cities, the lies are streaming from the loudspeakers, but the earth is still going round the sun, and neither the dictators nor the bureaucrats, deeply as they disapprove of the process, are able to prevent it. — George Orwell

I know this from the hollow sound that persists after the men's prayer, and from their faces pressed against the window of supplication. And from their coloring, the complexion of people who respond to fear of the absurd with zeal. As for me, I don't like anything that rises to heaven, I only like things affected by gravity. I'll go so far as to say I abhor religions. All of them! Because they falsify the weight of the world. Sometimes I feel like busting through the wall that separates me from my neighbor, grabbing him by the throat, and yelling at him to quit reciting his sniveling prayers, accept the world, open his eyes to his own strength, his own dignity, and stop running after a father who has absconded to heaven and is never coming back. Have a look at that group passing by, over there. Notice the little girl with the veil on her head, even though she's not old enough to know what a body is, or what desire is. What can you do with such people? Eh? — Kamel Daoud

I participate in BDSM, but I wasn't abused as a child. I don't hate women, or particularly enjoy hurting women. Sometimes I make them feel pain, but it's consensual, it serves a purpose - to get them off - and they can indicate that they wish me to stop at any time. I do like the power I get from total submission, and the trust that my partner puts in me to give me everything, from her mind to her body, while expecting nothing in return - except the understanding that I won't violate that trust. — Nenia Campbell

It seemed to me that everyone knows they will die one day. My feeling was nobody can stop death; it doesn't matter if it comes from a Talib or cancer. So I should do whatever I want to do. — Malala Yousafzai

Tell them I'm like you," Gavriel said as they began to slow down.
Aidan laughed. "I think they can see you're not like us anymore."
"No," he said. "Tell them you know me. That I'm like you, one of you. From the party. Tell them."
"Wait," said Winter. "Wait. Is he saying he wasn't at the party? Did you meet him by the side of the road? Did you pick up a hitchhiker who coincidentally turned out to be a vampire?"
Gavriel fixed his gaze on Winter. "You know me," he said, and a chill went up Tana's spine. "You've known me since outside the rest stop, when I turned and the light hit my face."
"What does he mean?" Midnight asked.
"I don't know," Winter said in an odd voice. "Nothing. — Holly Black

The battle fever. He had never thought to experience it himself, though Jamie had told him of it often enough. How time seemed to blur and slow and evenstop, how the past and the future vanished until there was nothing but the instant, how fear fled, and thought fled, and even you body. "You don't feel your wounds then, or the ache in your back from the weight of the armor, or the sweat running down into your eyes. You stop feeling you stop thinking, you stop being you, there is only the fight , the foe, this man and then the next and the next and the next, and you know they are afraid and tired but you're not, you're alive, and death is all around you but their swords move so slowly, you can dance through them laughing." Battle fever. I am half a man and drunk with slaughter, let them kill me if they can! — George R R Martin

See? Injustice. Here we are, risking our lives to rescue Kai and this whole planet, and Adri and Pearl get to go to the royal wedding. I'm disgusted. I hope they spill soy sauce on their fancy dresses."

Jacin's concern turned fast to annoyance. "Your ship has some messed-up priorities, you know that?"

"Iko. My name is Iko. If you don't stop calling me the 'ship,' I am going to make sure you never have hot water during your showers again, do you understand me?"

"Yeah, hold that thought while I go disable the speaker system."

"What? You can't mute me. Cinder! — Marissa Meyer

I never met my theater fans. I'm out the stage door five minutes after the curtain goes up. So that's it. I don't even know who comes, but thank God they do come. I can't tell. I keep my head down. I don't meet them. The fans from "Harry Potter" are kids who stop me in the street. I love that. That's terrific. I was amazed how many do. — Michael Gambon

My anger mounted. "What about your son and me? What about us? How can you even think of leaving me alone here with our baby boy? Telemachus needs his father. What's going to happen to us if you leave? Who will help me raise him? Who will take care of us? You know as well as I do some of the men around here are nothing but a bunch of scoundrels. Mark my words, Odysseus. The second you're gone, they'll swarm in here like bees around honey. They'll take over the place. I won't be able to do a thing to stop them. — Tamara Agha-Jaffar

DEAR MISS MANNERS:
I a tired of being treated like a child. My father says it's because I am a child
I am twelve-and-a-half years old
but it still isn't fair. If I go into a store to buy something, nobody pays any attention to me, or if they do, it's to say, "Leave that alone," "Don't touch that," although I haven't done anything. My money is as good as anybody's, but because I am younger, they feel they can be mean to me. It happens to me at home, too. My mother's friend who comes over after dinner sometimes, who doesn't have any children of her own and doesn't know what's what, likes to say to me, "Shouldn't you be in bed by now,dear?" when she doesn't even know what my bedtime is supposed to be. Is there any way I can make these people stop?
GENTLE READER:
Growing up is the best revenge. — Judith Martin

I can walk down the street all day and people look at me, but they don't talk to me or stop me. — Scott Speedman

A man with a rifle or a club can only be stopped by a person who defends himself with a rifle or a club. That's equality. If the United States government doesn't want you and me to have rifles, then take the rifles away from those racists.
If they don't want you and me to use clubs, take the clubs away from the racists. If they don't want you and me to get violent, then stop the racists from being violent. Don't teach us non-violence!!! — Malcolm X

I don't know why I feel so tremendously ashamed of myself for leaving them. Why it feels so selfish and horrible to paint. I shouldn't
shouldn't feel that way, should I? I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it."
The rose hung limply from my fingers. "All those years, what I did for them ... And they didn't try to stop you from taking me. — Sarah J. Maas

To all the kids from the "special" reading class back in high school (the one where you tried to form words using wooden blocks)
PLEASE stop telling me that I can't blame an "inanimate object" for the off-the-hook gun violence in this country. YES! ... I CAN!!! I blame all the "inanimate objects" in Congress who refuse to pass sensible gun legislation because they're too chicken-shit to take on Wayne LaPierre and the gun lobby. — Quentin R. Bufogle

Stale beer sticks to wobbling tables. The cigarette machine flashes in the corner, mocking smokers who never have any change on them. There's no natural light in this pub, so it's dark and gloomy. The pain on the face of the staff tells its own story: overworked, underpaid, exploited and treated as expendable. I feel at home with them. They're so scared they will be fired from their terrible jobs, every time I order a beer they ask me if I want any peanuts or crisps, in case between drinks I've turned into the dreaded mystery shopper. The air is chewy and weighs heavy on the skin. The fruit machines in the corners don't make a sound, aware this is the last stop saloon for the drunk few who can't afford to gamble properly. Everyone here is down to their last pint and pound. — Craig Stone

Stop strokin' that gun, Kyle," Gator said. "You're makin' me nervous. I'm thinkin' you're about to make love to the damn thing."
"She is purty," Kyle said, giving the gun one last caress, his eye watching the truck ahead. "Slow down a little, and let them get ahead of us, Gator."
"What if they put up a roadblock?" Jonas asked.
Ryland opened one eye. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Can the chatter and let me sleep. We've got swimming to do and I'm getting too old for this shit."
"Do they have sharks off this coast?" Jonas asked.
Sam snickered. "You and those sharks, Jonas."
"I have nightmares, man," Jonas protested.
"I'll feed you to a damn shark if you don't let me sleep," Ryland drawled.
Kadan and Nico exchanged amused glances.
Ryland opened both eyes. "I heard that. I'm not that old. — Christine Feehan

When you assume you make a you-know-what out of U and me. Yep, so let's stop assuming so much. We are often quick to explain details to strangers, who we understand might not be reading our minds, but we often assume that those people closest to us, those who share our household such as spouses, children parents and siblings, can read our minds. And we get upset with them when they don't go figure.
I wonder how many angry words are directed not at an action or inaction as would at first appear, but simply at the fact that somebody did not read our minds.
So let's give those people we care most about the benefit of the doubt and do a little less assuming and a little more explaining. — David Leonhardt

At best Grey and his father lied because they were scared. And at worst they lied because they were somehow involved. Either way they lied and I intend to find out why. You can hate me if you want. You can blame me for all of this, for keeping the truth from you. You can help me, or you can leave. But the one thing you can't do is stop me. — Carrie Ryan

I'll do whatever you say, Cassie," he says helplessly. His eyes shine brighter than the stars overhead. "I understand why you have to go. If it were you inside that camp, I would go. A hundred thousand Silencers couldn't stop me."
He presses his lips against my ear and whispers low and fierce, as if he's sharing the most important secret in the world, which maybe he is.
"It's hopeless. And it's stupid. It's suicidal. But love is a weapon they have no answer for. They know how you think, but they can't know what you feel."
Not we. They.
A threshold has been crossed, and he isn't stupid. He knows it's the kind you can't cross back over. — Rick Yancey

Either the gods have power or they don't. If they don't,
why pray? If they do, then why not pray for something else
instead of for things to happen or not to happen? Pray not to
feel fear. Or desire, or grief. If the gods can do anything, they
can surely do that for us. - But those are things the gods left up to me.
Then isn't it better to do what's up to you - like a free man
- than to be passively controlled by what isn't, like a slave
or beggar? And what makes you think the gods don't care
about what's up to us?
Start praying like this and you'll see.
Not "some way to sleep with her" - but a way to stop
wanting to.
Not "some way to get rid of him" - but a way to stop
trying.
Not "some way to save my child" - but a way to lose your
fear.
Redirect your prayers like that, and watch what happens. — Marcus Aurelius

Words are alive
when I've found a story that I love, I read it again and again, like playing a favorite song over and over.
Reading isn't passive
I enter the story with the characters, breathe their air, feel their frustrations,
scream at them to stop when they're about to do something stupid, cry with them, laugh with them.
Reading for me, is spending time with a friend. A book is a friend. You can never have too many. — Gary Paulsen

I've been keeping an eye on Henry throughout the fight. I glanced at him just as he stepped onto the mat.
"Alpha," he called. "I chal - "
He never got the whole word out - because I drew my foster father's SIG and shot him in the throat before he could.
For a split second everyone stared at him, as if they couldn't figure out where all that blood had come from.
"Stop the bleeding." I said. Though I made no move to do it myself. The rat could die for all I cared. "That was a lead bullet. He'll be fine." But he wouldn't be talking - or challenging Adam - for a while. "When he's stable put him in the holding cell where he can't do any more harm."
Adam looked at me. "Trust you to bring a gun into a fist fight." He said with every evidence of admiration. Then he looked at his pack. Our pack. "What she said." He told them. — Patricia Briggs

Or why it is acceptable to train fast runners and high jumpers but not to breed them. I can think of some answers, and they are good ones, which would probably end up persuading me. But hasn't the time come when we should stop being frightened even to put the question? — Richard Dawkins

His hands go to my waist - my waist! And they feel so right. I like this closeness. Maybe I like it too much. A guy has never been this close to me. Never. And I can't believe it's happening, even if it is to keep from being arrested.
My heart beats frantically. Isaiah is hot and scary and hot. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be anywhere near a girl like me?
It's the adrenaline rush. That's what it is. I like how he feels because I'm still experiencing the adrenaline rush from Isaiah's NASCAR driving skills. His arm shifts, and I love how that movement causes his muscles to flex.
Stop it, Rachel. It's not real. Focus. — Katie McGarry

What's so funny?" "You freak out when I disappear and reappear, but you expect me to stop time." She laughed, too. "But why can't you? You're a god." "Like I said, we have more responsibilities than freedoms. I doubt even Zeus could pull that one off." From high above, a streak of light flew from the sky and struck a boulder not twenty feet from where they lay, sending sparks and smoke and a loud crack in all directions in the echoing valley. The boulder was split in half and was as black as coal. "Holy crap!" Therese cried, falling against Than. "What was that?" "Oops. My apologies," he muttered, but it didn't sound like he was talking to her. "I made someone angry." "That scared me to death. Does that happen often?" "No. Never to me. But this is an exceptional time in my life. — Eva Pohler

I haven't tried this with anyone ... signifacant in a long time. It's never worked before."
"You haven't had sex before?"
"I have. But not with anyone i cared about or ... knew. One-time things. That's all."
"That's all-ever?"
"It's not like they 've been tons of them. There were more before, in high school, than there have been the last three years."
"Lucas? I said yes, and i meant it. I want this-as long as you have protection, i mean. I want this, with you. So this is okay. Please don't ask me to say stop."
"I want it to be better than okay. You deserve better than okay."
"You 're shaking, Jacqueline. Do you want to-"
"No." "I'm just a little cold."
"Better?"
"Yes."
"You know you can say it. But i'm not asking you to, this time."
"Good."
His earlier hesitation gone, he removed the last scraps of fabric we were wearing, fixed the condom in place, kissed me fiercely and rocked into me. — Tammara Webber

I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more ... What I dread is the isolation ... There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready. — Maurice Sendak

You're a hard man to love, Lachlan MacRuairi, but I do belive I'm up to the challenge."
"We'll probably argue."
"Aye, it seems likely."
"I have a bit of a temper when I get angry."
"I have noticed," she said wryly.
"I can be a mean bastard. I"ll probably say something to hurt you."
She laughed. "Are you trying to scare me off?"
He gave her a rueful smile. " Maybe."
"Well, stop - it isn't going to work. I'm quite aware of your faults."
He frowned. "I didn't say they were faults. — Monica McCarty

The photographer from the magazine, Masao Kageyama, would ride along in the van that accompanied me. He'd take pictures as they drove along. It wasn't a real race, and there weren't any water stations, so I'd occasionally stop to get water from the van. The Greek summer is truly brutal, and I knew I'd have to be careful not to get dehydrated.
"Mr. Murakami," Mr. Kageyama said, surprised as he saw me getting ready to run, "you're not really thinking of running the whole route, are you?"
"Of course I am. That's why I came here."
"Really? But when we do these kinds of projects most people don't go all the way. We just take some photos, and most of them don't finish the whole route. So you really are going to run the
entire thing?"
Sometimes the world baffles me. I can't believe that people would really do things like that. — Haruki Murakami

I will also talk about my experience of growing up in the former Soviet Union, where mathematics became an outpost of freedom in the face of an oppressive regime. I was denied entrance to Moscow State University because of the discriminatory policies of the Soviet Union. The doors were slammed shut in front of me. I was an outcast. But I didn't give up. I would sneak into the University to attend lectures and seminars. I would read math books on my own, sometimes late at night. And in the end, I was able to hack the system. They didn't let me in through the front door; I flew in through a window. When you are in love, who can stop you? — Edward Frenkel

If nothing has helped you decide, go ask a child. Children know what they need, and more surprisingly, the know what we need. Adults think. Kids respond with their feelings. They don't think about what you will think of their answer, so they just speak the truth-if you can get to them before junior high school age. At that time, they grow up, stop feeling loved, become depressed and start thinking-and what they are thinking about worries me. — Bernie Siegel

F you put people on a diet, they start thinking about food. Or if you make someone stop smoking, all they think about is cigarettes. It seems logical enough to me that if you tell a person he can't have sex, he's going to be obsessive about the subject. Then to give him the power to tell other people how to run their sex lives, well, that's just asking for trouble. In a way, it's like having a blind person teach Art History, isn't it? — Donna Leon