Trying To Get Your Man Back Quotes & Sayings

So there I was lying in the gutter. A man stopped and asked '"What's the matter? Did you fall over?" So I said "No. I've a bar of toffee in my back pocket and I was just trying to break it." — Chic Murray

Many will say, "I can find God without the help of the Bible, or church, or minister." Very well. Do so if you can. The Ferry Company would feel no jealousy of a man who should prefer to swim to New York. Let him do so if he is able, and we will talk about it on the other shore; but probably trying to swim would be the thing that would bring him quickest to the boat. So God would have no jealousy of a man's going to heaven without the aid of the Bible, or church, or minister; but let him try to do so, and it will be the surest way to bring him back to them for assistance. — Henry Ward Beecher

He had in his Bronx apartment a lodger less learned than himself, and much fiercer in piety. One day when we were studying the laws of repentance together, the lodger burst from his room. "What!" he said. "The atheists guzzles his whiskey and eats pork and wallows with women all his life long, and then repents the day before he dies and stands guiltless? While I spend a lifetime trying to please God?" My grandfather pointed to the book. "So it is written," he said gently. - "Written!" the lodger roared. "There are books and there are books." And he slammed back into his room.
The lodger's outrage seemed highly logical. My grandfather pointed out afterward that cancelling the past does not turn it into a record of achievement. It leaves it blank, a waste of spilled years. A man had better return, he said, while time remains to write a life worth scanning. And since no man knows his death day, the time to get a grip on his life is the first hour when the impulse strikes him. — Herman Wouk

Day snorted at him and rolled out of bed, groaning like an old man and God had to hold in his laugh at Day's wide-legged walk to the bathroom. He heard Day cleaning himself up and he thought to himself while he waited. He has a right to know. Day got back into bed and fully climbed on top of him, laying his head down on his chest. God laughed. "Uhh, sweetheart. You going to sleep like this?" "Yep. I've imagined sleeping like this for years," Day said settling in comfortably. God kissed Day's forehead and wrapped his arms around him, trying to calm his mind. Please don't have a nightmare. Not tonight. Just let this night be perfect. — A.E. Via

We don't make bicycles anymore. It's all human relations now. The eggheads sit around trying to figure out new ways for everyone to be happy. Nobody can get fired, no matter what; and if somebody does accidentally make a bicycle, the union accuses us of cruel and inhuman practices and the government confiscates the bicycle for back taxes and gives it to a blind man in Afghanistan. — Kurt Vonnegut

It's as if your kind needs adversity in order to achieve. (Leta) No, we don't. That's just a lie people tell themselves to feel better about all the people who kick them in their teeth when it's just as easy to help a man up as it is to knock him to the ground. That's why I've withdrawn from this world. I don't want to have to watch my back all the time and I'm tired of trying to figure out if the loyalty someone professes is real and true, or just another lie that will crumble the instant they taste jealousy. (Aiden) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

The way she sat now, leaning forward frowning, biting her pink bottom lip, her shirt dipping to reveal a hint of her cleavage ... He wondered idly if he could get her to bend over a little farther ...
"Just what are you staring at, exactly?"
Kadar snapped back to reality. "You. You've been thinking hard for the last five minutes. It's not good for you to strain your pretty little head like that. I'm waiting for the steam to shoot out of your ears to relieve the pressure on your brain."
"Aha." Audrey glanced at Jack and George. "What you have here is a man who was caught gaping at my breasts, and now he's trying to cover it up with rudeness. — Ilona Andrews

The child comes home and the parent puts the hooks in him. The old man, or the woman, as the case may be, hasn't got anything to say to the child. All he wants is to have that child sit in a chair for a couple of hours and then go off to bed under the same roof. It's not love. I am not saying that there is not such a thing as love. I am merely pointing to something which is different from love but which sometimes goes by the name of love. It may well be that without this thing which I am talking about there would not be any love. But this thing in itself is not love. It is just something in the blood. It is a kind of blood greed, and it is the fate of a man. It is the thing which man has which distinguishes him from the happy brute creation. When you got born your father and mother lost something out of themselves, and they are going to bust a hame trying to get it back, and you are it. They know they can't get it all back but they will get as big a chunk out of you as they can. — Robert Penn Warren

Self-righteousness ... is the largest idol of the human heart - the idol which man loves most and God hates most. Dearly beloved, you will always be going back to this idol. You are always trying to be something in yourself, to gain God's favour by thinking little of your sin, or by looking to your repentance, tears, prayers ; or by looking to your religious exercises, your frames, etc; or by looking to your graces, the Spirit's work in your heart. Beware of false Christs. Study sanctification to the utmost, but make not a Christ of it. — Robert Murray M'Cheyne

Dear God, surely you aren't the chef Sam was talking about?"
"No," he said with a laugh, and gestured behind him with a thumb. "Cale here is."
"Kale?" Alex echoed blankly, her eyes sliding to the still half-closed door. She didn't see any evidence of a second man. Frowning, she set the phone back in its receiver and leaned to the side, trying to see out into the kitchen as she muttered, "Kale is a vegetable. — Lynsay Sands

Listen, he said vehemently. Somebody's going to have to say what they really mean and then do what they say they will. All this lying. All this bullshit and pretending. It's just wasting lives, wasting time, everything's just a waste.
She was looking at him curiously. That's just the way people are. The way the world is. What are you trying to do, fix the world?
I don't want to fix the world. Fuck the world. Just the little part of it that I have to live on. You and that old man. Folks starting babies andd walking off like that's got nothing to do with them. People walking off while you're asleep and never coming back. Leaving a note. A Goddamned note. Old people living a half mile apart and wanting to see each other and dying without doing it. Now that's crazy for you. That's what's crazy. — William Gay

There's an old saying that if you come back to the place where you became a man, you will remember all those things you need to be happy ... That saying never made sense to me, but I thought it was worth a try. — Henry Bromell

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that as a species we're just no good at writing obituaries. We don't know how a man or his achievements will be perceived three generations from now, any more than we know what his great-great-grandchildren will be having for breakfast on a Tuesday in March. Because when Fate hands something down to posterity, it does so behind its back. — Amor Towles

It's tough when you started out as young as I did to look back and see how far I've come. I try to be easy on myself and go 'Look man, you were younger, you were learning; you learn, you grow.' But I'm not my best judge. I always feel like my best work is still ahead of me. — Matt Dillon

She heard Rowan awake with a start before he reconciled himself to his surroundings. His back scraped across the trunk of the tree as he slid sideways
trying to see around the branch she was sitting on to get a look at her.
"Are you awake?" he asked, his voice still rough from sleep.
"Yeah."
"Did you sleep at all?"
"No." She heard him mumble something to himself and decided to cut him off before he could scold her again. "My butt did, though. Slept like a log all night."
"Well, obviously, your butt has more sense than you do."
"You're a funny man, Rowan whatever your last name is."
"Fall."
"I'd rather not."
She managed to get a tiny chuckle out of him, which she considered a huge achievement. Rowan stood up on his branch, bringing his head level with Lily's, and started to untie her. His lips were still pursed in a near smile.
"My name is Rowan Fall. — Josephine Angelini

What was that?" Belgarath asked, coming back around the corner.
"Brill," Silk replied blandly, pulling his Murgo robe back on.
"Again?" Belgarath demanded with exasperation. "What was he doing this time?"
"Trying to fly, last time I saw him." Silk smirked.
The old man looked puzzled.
"He wasn't doing it very well," Silk added.
Belgarath shrugged. "Maybe it'll come to him in time."
"He doesn't really have all that much time." Silk glanced out over the edge.
"From far below - terribly far below - there came a faint, muffled crash; then, after several seconds, another. "Does bouncing count?" Silk asked.
Belgarath made a wry face. "Not really."
"Then I'd say he didn't learn in time." Silk said blithely. — David Eddings

I remember clearly the deaths of three men. One was the richest man of the century, who, having clawed his way to wealth through the souls and bodies of men, spent many years trying to buy back the love he had forfeited and by that process performed great service to the world and, perhaps, had much more than balanced the evils of his rise. I was on a ship when he died. The news was posted on the bulletin board, and nearly everyone received the news with pleasure. Several said, Thank God that son of a bitch is dead. — John Steinbeck

He watched as Miss Turner lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips with agonizing slowness. He stared, fascinated, as her lips parted, revealing the tip of her tongue ...
"I say, Miss Turner-" Wiggins again.
Her spook paused in mid-air.
Gray crashed his fist on the table. "Christ, man! Can't you see the lady is trying to eat?" Crossing his arms, he slumped back in his chair. Its wooden joints creaked in protest.
And now everyone put down their spoons.
Gray felt their eyes on him. He kicked the table leg, frustrated with himself, with her, with his goddamned boots. They still pinched his feet. — Tessa Dare

I made decaf," he said. "Caffeine isn't good for you."
"Thank you, Mama Lane."
He made a face at her. "Tate and I used to share everything. Let him go off in a snit. I'll share his baby. If he doesn't come back, I'll appropriate it, and you."
"That's one area where all your commando skills will fail, dear man," she said affectionately. "I like you very much, and you can be baby's godfather. But I'm raising this child myself."
"Godfather." He was savoring the word when the toast popped up.
"Bad choice of words," she murmured. "I wouldn't want to give you any bad ideas. I don't want my child outfitted in a fedora and a machine gun."
"Commando godfathers are a different breed."
"Black bags and camo gear aren't much better," she informed him.
"Spoilsport. Where's your sense of adventure?"
"Hanging in the shower trying to dry out. — Diana Palmer

I stood on the cedar deck for quite a spell, eye fuckin' the night sky, trying to stare down the stars. Blood had crusted on my neck, back, in my hair, down the legs of my jeans, to where i was as spattered as a thumbless beef packer. I kept on with my close study of the higher reaches, fantasizing that a comet was due to streak by trailing a message only for me, spelled out clearly and printed huge. Some epigram from far away out there that'd clue me in on how to feel after killing a man — Daniel Woodrell

Son, I'ma tell you something ain't nobody else in the world can tell you: you got no soul. And I'ma tell your future, too: you ain't never gonna get a soul, you keep makin' people's shit small." Evan's eyes started to roll back in his head and the big man shook him like dust mop until he came back to the room. "You ain't shit, Evan, and you ain't never gonna be shit until you show some passion for something. Y'all got to love something. Y'all got to hate something. Y'all got to want something. Pissing on other people's passion 'cause you trying to be cool just make you a coward - a little bitch. — Christopher Moore

I went back to a small town in Poland where my dad grew up. It was a very traumatic experience for me as a young man to know that my father's family were killed by Nazis, killed by Hitler. And that left, you know, if not intellectually, at least an emotional part of me which said, God, we have got to do everything we can to end this kind of horrific racism or anti-Semitism. And I have spent much of my life trying to fight that. — Bernie Sanders

The only difference between your average man and a hero is that the hero figures out what to do before it's too late,' He nudged her aside and, with a few pulls, filled her bucket. 'Then he has the nerve to go on and do it.'
Betsy leaned back as if she was trying to get a complete view of him from head to toe. 'Is that all it takes to make a good hero?'
'One more thing. A hero always comes back for his lady. — Regina Jennings

Pepper spray," he said, lightly touching her back. "Give it a second."
"Pepper spray?"
"You were a casualty of your own rescue."
He pointed and she turned to look at the scene behind her. Over a dozen old ladies were beating the man with their purses and dousing him with pepper spray. Several police officers hovered nearby, as if they couldn't get close enough to help the guy. They didn't look like they were trying very hard.
"What kind of sicko pervert are you?" one woman demanded. "Liz Sutton is one of us. You try to hurt her, you answer to all of us. You got that?"
"Seniors to the rescue," Ethan told her. — Susan Mallery

I was reading about animals a while back and there was this motherfucking scientist in France back in the thirties or forties or whenever the motherfuck it was and he was trying to get apes to draw these pictures, to make art pictures like the kinds of pictures in serious motherfucking paintings that you see in museums and shit. So the scientist keeps showing the apes these paintings and giving them charcoal pencils to draw with and then one day one of the apes finally draws something but it's not the art pictures that it draws. What it draws is the bars of its own motherfucking cage. Its own motherfucking cage! Man, that's the truth, ain't it? — Cheryl Strayed

Alas, why will a man spend months trying to hand over his liberty to a woman
and the rest of his life trying to get it back again? — Helen Rowland

Walker and Timothy sat quietly for a very long time. "Why do so many people make it so hard for anyone to help them or to love them?" Walker asked finally.
Timothy chuckled. "Ah, Walker - if I could explain all of humanity's foibles, I'd be a rich man indeed, at least as far as money goes. I believe people are like that because of fear. They fear being loved because they fear that if they're loved, they'll have to love back. And if they love back, they may get hurt. And many people aren't ready to put their hearts on the line like that. Mostly because they don't have anything to fall back on. It's quite a shame, really, because they hurt themselves by trying to avoid getting hurt. But we have to be willing to die many times if we're ever going to get on with this business of living. — Tom Walsh

I do not ... reject the use of statistics in medicine, but I condemn not trying to get beyond them and believing in statistics as the foundation of medical science ... Statistics ... apply only to cases in which the cause of the facts observed is still [uncertain or] indeterminate ... There will always be some indeterminism ... in all the sciences, and more in medicine than in any other. But man's intellectual conquest consists in lessening and driving back indeterminism in proportion as he gains ground for determinism by the help of the experimental method.. — Claude Bernard

When we saw a destitute-looking man trying to sell worn flip-flops, I vowed never to complain about a job again. When I considered the steady paycheck and quality of life it provided, most of my past gripes - primarily about unproductive meetings, back-biting office politics and panty hose - were just whining. — Kristine K. Stevens

People are always waiting around for that magical person who'll walk into their life and fix them, who'll offer up some vital piece they've been missing and make them complete. They spend years trying to fit their broken edges against another person's and call themselves whole and healed. The only problem with this, of course, is that expecting anyone else to fix you is an unequivocal disaster.

You can't wait for a man to come around and put you back together. You have to put yourself back together first, and become the kind of woman who deserves a good man. — Julie Johnson

I rub the ears of my dog, my stupid goddam ruddy great dog that I never wanted but who hung around anyway and who followed me thru the swamp and who bit Aaron when he was trying to choke me and who found Viola when she was lost and who's licking my hand with his little pink tongue and whose eye is still mostly squinted shut from where Mr. Prentiss Jr. kicked him and whose tail is way way shorter from where Matthew Lyle cut it off when my dog - my dog - went after a man with a machete to save me and who's right there when I need pulling back from the darkness I fall into and who tells me who I am whenever I forget. — Patrick Ness

guess the point I'm trying to make is that as a species we're just no good at writing obituaries. We don't know how a man or his achievements will be perceived three generations from now, any more than we know what his great-great-grandchildren will be having for breakfast on a Tuesday in March. Because when Fate hands something down to posterity, it does so behind its back." They — Amor Towles

Your house has two colors," she said,
while looking up at a corner
of my ceiling and walls.
"Yes," I replied.
"Why is that rainbow beach blanket on the couch?"
I replied, "Color."
She bent over and ripped
the beach towel off my white couch.
Maybe she thought I was trying to hide something.
"You talk a lot," she said sarcastically.
I looked back at her.
Maybe I raised an eyebrow,
but I didn't say anything.
She's right, of course.
I don't talk much.
I am a simple man.
I speak from my heart.
Sometimes, I write poetry. — Jeffrey A. White

Like ... instinct?"
At that Laurel flopped down on her back, a frustrated breath whooshing out of her. "Oh man, instinct, that's like the F-word in Avalon.Yeardley kept telling me, 'You are trying to rely on instinct,you need to trust your intuition instead.' But I looked up those two words and they mean the exact same thing. — Aprilynne Pike

She found a small picture made entirely of feathers and was trying to decide whether it depicted a monkey climbing up the back of a man - or possibly a person climbing a flight of stairs or perhaps a cow next to a tree, when she saw a chess piece, sitting by itself on a small pedestal.
It was the white queen, carved from ivory. She stood with a regal frown, her body shadowed by the enormous crown that bloomed on her head. The crown was a hollow sphere, exquisitely carved with open work, and when Jemma peered inside she saw inside another sphere, also open, and inside that, yet another. — Eloisa James

Damn, Josie. Are you trying to kill me?"
She glanced back my way. "Not particularly right now. Why?"
I didn't even try to stop staring. It would have been a wasted effort. "Because that dress is enough to give a man a heart attack if you come any closer, or break a man's heart if you walk away."
"Now lines like that help me understand why you've got a reputation for being such a ladies man."
"That wasn't even my best one."
( ... )
That kind of dress could bring a man to his knee to propose, even if that had been the furthest thing from his mind when he woke up that morning. Hell, it was bringing me close to a proposal, and I was dead set against anything marriage related. — Nicole Williams

I'm so happy," she whispered. "I never thought I would ever be this happy." Richard put his arms around her and held her to him. He rested his cheek against her hair and let her words sink deep into his heart. "Any reason why?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "You, of course," she said. "How . . ." She pulled her head back and looked up at him. "Because you are a sweet, tender, passionate man and you treat me like you might just love me." He smiled weakly. "Indeed." She reached up and touched his mouth. "There's that smile again." "A poor one." "It's better than no smile at all. Don't grin, though. I have to be sitting down for that." She brushed past him and started down the steps. "Have a nice day, dear." "Dear? How mean you that?" he asked. — Lynn Kurland

Show me a man or a woman alone and I'll show you a saint. Give me two and they'll fall in love. Give me three and they'll invent the charming thing we call 'society'. Give me four and they'll build a pyramid. Give me five and they'll make one an outcast. Give me six and they'll reinvent prejudice. Give me seven and in seven years they'll reinvent warfare. Man may have been made in the image of God, but human society was made in the image of His opposite number, and is always trying to get back home. — Stephen King

Steve Forman strafes the south Florida scene with Boca Knights, an outrageously funny mystery novel with a raft of offbeat characters and prose that moves trippingly off the pen. His main man, Eddie Perlmutter, ex-Boston cop attempting semi-retirement in Boca Raton like a fish trying to retire out of the water, is a character for the ages. Carl Hiaasen, watch your back. — Douglas Preston

I am coming. I can't be coming. I'm fighting it, and that's making it worse. I am trying to fake not having an orgasm. I wonder if he can tell ...
I feel a little sick to my stomach when I realize exactly what sensation has brought me to this unfortunate climax: the friction of a very fat man's matted belly hair on my clit. This man I am on top of is the most repulsive person I've ever allowed to touch me. Sheer physics won't allow him to be on top of me. In fact, I am not entirely sure how it is that he will get back up from his supine position.
This man is my john. This orgasm and the wave of revulsion that follows quickly on its heels and makes my skin turn cold makes him my last client in my short career as an escort. — Audacia Ray

Caleb rocked back on his heels, surprised by how good her husky laughter and their repartee made him feel. He wasn't a man given to bantering with women - with anyone for that matter. Out here in the wilderness, with a woman about to give birth, he wasn't the banker or the hotel owner. I'm just a man trying to hold his guilt and terror at bay and make sure this mother and child survive. — Debra Holland

I was that overachieving, annoying kid who was always trying to win some contest or win the role. I look back on it now and I'm like, "Chill, man." Calm down. — Mary Elizabeth Winstead