Why Do I Even Like Him Quotes & Sayings

I have to ask. Why do you like me?"
He shifted away from me then, his brows pulled together making him look even cuter, if that was possible. "I don't understand the question." His hands were squeezing mine tightly as he looked down at them. "You're my Lilly. You've always been my Lilly. — Amber L. Johnson

Victor kept telling me to breathe, and I told him that I already knew how to breathe and why do people even say that because it's not like people just forget to breathe. He — Jenny Lawson

That's what I was thinking about before you came. I was thinking about your mattering business. I feel like, like, how you matter is defined by the things that matter to you. You matter as much as the things that matter to you do. And I got so backwards, trying to make myself matter to him. All this time, there were real things to care about: real, good people who care about me, and this place. It's so easy to get stuck. You just get caught in being something, being special or cool or whatever, to the point where you don't even know why you need it; you just think you do."
"You don't even know why you need to be world-famous; you just think you do. — John Green

Alec?" Magnus was staring at him. He had dispatched the remaining Iblis demons, and the square was empty but for the two of them. "Did you just- did you just save my life?"
Alec knew he ought to say something like, Of course, because I'm a Shadowhunter and that's what we do, or That's my job. Jace would have said something like that. Jace always knew the right thing to say. But the words that actually came out of Alec's mouth where quite different- and sounded petulant, even to his own ears. "You never called me back," he said. "I called you so many times and you never called me back."
Magnus looked at Alec as if he'd lost his mind. "Your city is under attack," he said. "The wards have broken, and the streets are full of demons. And you want to know why I haven't called you? — Cassandra Clare

So tell me something, how did you do that earlier trick?"
Ravyn grimaced. "What trick?"
"The cat thing. How did you switch?"
Why did humans always want that question answered? Even if he explained it, it wasn't like they could do it. "It's magick," he said sarcastically. "I mumble hocus-pocus and the next thing you know, I'm a cat."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I suppose it's a step up. The last guy I had in my house could only turn into a beer-drinking Pig. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Do you see why I avoid humans, ma cherie? They are silly, exasperating creatures.
You like him.You can't hide it from me, even if you try to hide it from yourself. Invite him home.
Not for all the trees on this earth.
I want to meet him.
Savannah. She was up to no good, he was certain of it. Gregori's hand went to the back of his neck, massaging deeply. What I should do is scare the holy hell out of him so he will get over this nonsense.
"So,are you?" Gary asked.
"Am I what?" Gregori was distracted. Why had he ever talked to this fool in the first place? Because Savannah was making him crazy. Savannah had made him do something dumb. He had read Gary's mind and found him to be an interesting, likeable person.
Don't blame me. She sounded innocent. — Christine Feehan

I've never felt this lonely.
But then I've never witnessed someone falling apart. Even his blank stare, as he watches his world crumble around himself, is beautiful. And I've never seen someone break so perfectly.
And all I can do is watch because he won't let me in.
Because just like his darkness, his misery is his own.
But what does that make me?
A passerby?
No.
I can't just stand by.
Why doesn't he understand that I can't watch him fall apart? That the sharp ends of the broken glass that is his heart, cut me too. — Kady Hunt

Do you love me?" Diana asked.
Caine's eyes widened. She could actually see him twitch. Like a startled animal. Like a rabbit who had just heard a fox.
"It's a yes or no question," Diana said acidly. "But I'll accept a nod or a shake of the head or an incoherent grunt."
"I . . . I don't know what you mean by that," Caine said lamely.
"When I jumped off the cliff, you saved me even though it meant letting Sanjit and the others escape."
"You didn't give me much choice," Caine said peevishly. "You had a choice. You wanted to destroy them."
"Okay."
"Why did you make that choice?"
Caine swallowed and seemed to find his palms sweaty since he rubbed them on his sides.
Diana walked to the door. She unlocked it and held it open. "Go away," she said. "Come back when you figure out your answer. — Michael Grant

Once, Gansey had overhead his father saying, Why in the world did he even want that car? and his mother replying, Oh, I know why. One day he would find an opportunity to bring up that conversation with her, because he wanted to know why she thought he had bought it. Analyzing what motivated him to put up with the Camaro made Gansey feel unsettled, but he knew it had something to do with how sitting in this perfectly restored Peugeot made him feel. A car was a wrapper for its contents, he thought, and if he looked on the inside like any of the cars in this garage looked on the outside, he couldn't live with himself. On the outside, he knew he looked a lot like his father. On the inside, he sort of wished he looked more like the Camaro. Which was to say, more like Adam. — Maggie Stiefvater

Were you in the military?"
"Are you kidding me? I was in high school."
"High school," he said quietly. "You're American. And a civilian?"
"Uh, yes. An American civilian."
"Lovely. A straight answer. Keep it up. Did somebody train you?"
"No, nobody trained me. Unless you count the Rhode Island child welfare and juvenile justice systems. Why?"
Malachi held up his hand and ticked off the reasons with his fingers. "You stole a Guard's weapon. If I'm not mistaken, it belonged to a Gate Guard. Which means you managed to do it on your way into the city. You escaped Amid even after he had you in hand. You slashed his leg in just the right place, preventing him from chasing you. Under extreme duress, injured and cornered, you threw a knife and hit a target-"
"It's not like I hit something vital. — Sarah Fine

You'll be all right, Cassie."
"No! I won't be! I need you-"
"Why? What can I give you that others can't?"
"What?"
Green eyes suddenly burned into mine. "It's a simple question. You said you need me. Why?"
"I-I told you. This job-"
"Which you're handling admirably."
"I am not! I couldn't even get to my parents without help!"
"There are other demon experts-Jonas for one."
"But I need you!"
(...)
"Then give me a reason."
"I...there's so many-"
"Name one."
"I can name a hundred-"
"I didn't ask for a hundred; I asked for one. And you can't give it to me."
"Yes, I can!"
"Then do it!"
"I..." I stared at him, because he looked like there was a lot riding on my answer. Maybe everything. — Karen Chance

That isn't why. She would have chosen him even if you'd had royal blood in your veins, even if you'd had the same blood as Kastor. You don't understand the way a mind like that thinks. I do. If I were Jokaste and a king maker, I'd have chosen Kastor over you too.'
'I suppose you are going to enjoy telling me why,' said Damen. He felt his hands curl into fists, heard the bitterness in his throat.
'Because a king maker would always choose the weaker man. The weaker the man, the easier he is to control. — C.S. Pacat

I hate it that they even count errors,' Ethan said ... 'What kind of game is that? No other sport do they do that, Dad. There's no other sport where they put the errors on the freaking scoreboard for everybody to look at. They don't even have errors in other sports. They have fouls. They have penalties. Those are things that players could get on purpose, you know. But in baseball they keep track of how many accidents you have.'
* * *
Errors ... Well, they are a part of life, Ethan,' he tried to explain. 'Fouls and penalties, generally speaking, are not. That's why baseball is more like life than other games. Sometimes I feel like that's all I do in life, keep track of my errors.'
But Dad, you're a grown-up,' Ethan reminded him. 'A kid's life isn't supposed to be that way. — Michael Chabon

Papa, why are you selling our goats? I like these goats."
"A week ago the price was five hundred, now it's four hundred. I'm sorry, but we can't wait for it go any lower."
Mankhalala and the others were tied by their front legs with a long rope. When my father started down the trail, they stumbled and began to cry. They knew their future. Mankhalala looked back, as if telling me to help him. Even Khamba whined and barked a few times, pleading their case. But I had to let them down. What could I do? My family had to eat. — William Kamkwamba

Miss Gates is a nice lady, ain't she?"
Why sure," said Jem. "I liked her when I was in her room."
She hates Hitler a lot ... "
What's wrong with that?"
Well, she went on today about how bad it was him treating the Jews like that. Jem, it's not right to persecute anybody, is it? I mean have mean thoughts about anybody, even, is it?"
Gracious no, Scout. What's eatin' you?"
Well, coming out of the courthouse that night Miss Gates was
she was going' down the steps in front of us, you musta not seen her
she was talking with Miss Stephanie Crawford. I heard her say it's time somebody time somebody taught 'em a lesson, they were gettin' way above themelves, an' the next thing they think they can do is marry us. Jem, how can you hate Hitler so bad an' then turn around and be ugly about folks right at home
— Harper Lee

You didn't want to put in the work to make us happen.
It was true. I had been so captivated by Duncan, so enamored, so infatuated, that I let his life drown mine for two years. I went along, and when I got tired of it, tired of it just being easy and comfortable and convenient but not love, I ended it. And that was why I had the man in my lobby looking at me like there were still places for us to go.
I had let him believe that he was my whole world, let him be everything, and then one day just stopped loving him and walked away. It was something I did, something I had always done - poured on the charm, made myself into the ideal partner, lover, friend, indispensable and irreplaceable, and then, when I got bored or tired or tapped out, instead of fighting, I just quit. It was wildly unfair, and the only people I didn't do it with were my family. Even my friends complained that I was always around and then just gone.
Nathan Qells — Mary Calmes

Liz?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why do you care about me?"
The question seems to startle me. It's uncharacteristic for Richie, who is usually so cool and self-assured. I open my eyes. "Why would you ask me that?"
"Because I don't understand. We're so different."
I reach around the side of his face. Once again, I wipe fresh beads of sweat from his forehead. This time, I don't even bother wiping my hands on my pants. I lace my fingers into his again, and the two of us lie together, his damp clamminess seeping onto my made up face and my pretty clothes. Obviously, I couldn't care less.
"But we fit," I whisper. "Like this." And I tighten my grip around him.
"Mmm." He smiles, his eyes still closed.
"You're right. We do."
"Richie ... I'm lying. I don't like you."
"You don't?" His voice cracks.
"No." I bring my lips close to his ear. "I love you Richie Wilson. — Jessica Warman

I wanted to cast doubt on the step he was about to take, to help him see there are other ways to live, other ways to seek knowledge, love ... even self-transformation. I wanted to convince him his dignity depended on maintaining a free, skeptical attitude towards doctrine. I wanted ... to save him ...
Doubt, like faith, has to be learned. It is a skill. But the curious thing about skepticism is that its adherents, ancient and modern, have so often been proselytizers. In reading them, I've often wanted to ask: "Why do you care?" Their skepticism offers no good answer to that question. — Mark Lilla

Her hands shot up. "See that's exactly what I'm saying. You're seeing what you want, and what you see you explain away and excuse things like you're fixing me. I'm not perfect, Ephraim and I really wish you would see that."
"You drool."
"What?" That caught her off guard.
"When you're asleep you drool. I've woken up more than a few times with a little puddle forming on my chest." After a thought he added. "And you snore. Not a delicate snore either mind you."
"I do not!" Her face colored with indignation.
He sighed heavily as if the knowledge pained him. "Oh, but you do. I've even heard Jill talk about it. Did you know that's the main reason she was happy about her room. Actually, she and Joshua thanked your Grandmother for putting you at the other end of the house, something about finally getting a decent night's sleep. They compared your snore to a chainsaw. I can see why they'd say that. — R.L. Mathewson

I can't explain why I love him so much. Maybe because he's the only person who understands what it's like to be manipulated by Jonathan for his gain. Or maybe because I know deep down there's a soul that needs love more than anyone else, and I can't help but reciprocate to the fullest degree. I put my arm around his shoulder again and say, "Maybe one day you'll be able to outrun me." He lets out a dry, bitter laugh. "Maybe if I break both your legs." I grin. "Would you even be fucking fast enough to do that?" "Give me a lacrosse stick and we'll see." "Not fucking happening, little brother. — Krista Ritchie

He's my dad. I love him. It's not that I don't love him. I really do. And I know I need to stick with him and try to help him. And I'd miss him. I know I would. I'd miss him and I'd miss home. I don't even really know why I said that. Well . . . yeah, I sort of do. It's just different with August. Not like he's perfect. But like you know what's going to happen next, and it makes sense. And even when it doesn't work like that, I can just say so to him . . . and then we talk about it and then things make sense again. I talk to my dad all the time but nothing ever changes. It's like everything I say just sort of bounces off him. But when August and I talk, stuff actually gets worked out. And it's such a relief. — Catherine Ryan Hyde

Do you need me to carry you?" The words were said softly but with a definite edge. He looked so angry, I wasn't sure if he was mad or trying to help.
"No." The last thing I wanted was to be carried out of there. I turned in my seat and tried to get a read on him. An idiot would have known he was pissed, but beyond that, I got nothing. Why was he the only person in my life I had so much trouble reading. He started to lean down and I realized I was out of time.
"Don't you dare," I said, trying to delay whatever action he was preparing to take. Looks like my stall quota had been all used up. If I'd had any delusions of him cutting me any slack because of what had happened between us, I was quickly realizing how wrong I'd been. He seemed even worse. — Donna Augustine

It was in this man's class that I first began to wonder if people who wrote fiction were not suffering from some kind of disorder--from what I've since come to think of, remembering the wild nocturnal rocking of Albert Vetch, as the midnight disease. The midnight disease is a kind of emotional insomnia; at every conscious moment its victim--even if he or she writes at dawn, or in the middle of the afternoon--feels like a person lying in a sweltering bedroom, with the window thrown open, looking up at a sky filled with stars and airplanes, listening to the narrative of a rattling blind, an ambulance, a fly trapped in a Coke bottle, while all around him the neighbors soundly sleep. this is in my opinion why writers--like insomniacs--are so accident-prone, so obsessed with the calculus of bad luck and missed opportunities, so liable to rumination and a concomitant inability to let go of a subject, even when urged repeatedly to do so. — Michael Chabon

What do you need that for?" he asks about the Jack Daniel's. "We might have to hit her over the head." "Why are you smiling?" "Because this is a happy time," I tell him honestly, even after I push aside the image of knocking Shannon unconscious with a bottle of JD. "This is fun. This is good. When this is all over, we're going to have a baby." He doesn't look all that convinced, but he trots after me as we take our equipment into Shannon's room. She's sitting propped up on the bed with every pillow in my house behind her, blowing out air like a stalled locomotive. "You're going to ruin my pillows," I moan. "I'll buy you new pillows," she spits at me. "I'll buy you a new bed. I'll buy you a new fucking house." "Watch your language," I tell her. "There's a little kid here." "You think I care about a fucking little kid? Why is there a little kid here?" "Can we hit her yet?" Kenny asks. "Not yet." Fanci — Tawni O'Dell

So ... Mason, Eddie, and Mia went to Spokane to hunt Strigoi?"
"Yes."
"Holy shit. Why didn't you go with them? Seems like something you'd do."
I resisted the urge to smack him. "Because I'm not insane! But I'm going to go get them before they do something even stupider. — Richelle Mead

It's sad, when a mother has to speak the words that condemn her own son. But I couldn't allow them to believe that I would commit murder. They'll put him away now, as I should have years ago. He was always bad, and in the end he intended to tell them I killed those girls and that man... as if I could do anything but just sit and stare, like one of his stuffed birds. They know I can't move a finger, and I won't. I'll just sit here and be quiet, just in case they do... suspect me. They're probably watching me. Well, let them. Let them see what kind of a person I am. I'm not even going to swat that fly. I hope they are watching... they'll see. They'll see and they'll know, and they'll say, "Why, she wouldn't even harm a fly... — Robert Bloch

So,if it's all love or money, which is Alex Bainbridge?"
I blinked at him. "What?"
"He's a turd, Ella. He looked right through you like you were a ghost, but you still have a thing for him."
"I do n-"
"Don't even. You've gone through the whole week watching for him. So what is it? I would really like to know. Love or money?"
"I have not been watching for him!" I snapped. Oh, but I had, in every hallway, at lunch, when I took my seat at the edge of English class. "And if I have, it's just so I can look away first."
Frankie rolled his eyes. "Shall I get you a pail of water?"
"Why?"
"Your pants are on fire."
I actually looked down at my lap. "Oh, very funny." I shot Sadie a look when she giggled. — Melissa Jensen

It was a small triumph, but it was just about the only one I got for the rest of the week. As I trudged through my daily routine, Robert trudged along with me. He did not really get directly in my way too often, but every time I turned around he was there, a frown of concentration on his face, and usually some kind of inane question: Why did I do that? Why was it important to do that? Did I do that often? How many killers had I caught by doing that? Were they serial killers? Were there a lot of serial killers in Miami? A lot of the time the questions were completely unrelated to whatever I was doing, which made the whole thing seem even more pointlessly annoying. I could understand that it was a little hard for someone like him to frame intelligent questions about gas chromatography, but then, why watch me do it in the first place? Why couldn't he just go sit in a sports bar and text me his questions while he sipped a beer and watched a ball game? — Jeff Lindsay

What's with all the cheering over the apocalypse, anyway? Oh, yay, we get to kill poor helpless humans."
"The excitement over the apocalypse had nothing to do with humans."
"Could have fooled me."
"Humans are incidental."
"Killing and destroying an entire species is incidental?" I can't help but sound like I'm accusing him (Raffe), even though I know he wasn't part of the plan to wipe us out.
Or at least, I think he wasn't personally involved, but I don't really know that, do I?
"Your people have been doing it to all kinds of species."
"That's not the same."
"Why not? — Susan Ee

I want to know why you don't like me, Malloy. I like you, even if you do hit people."
He sighed. "I never said I didn't like you, Mrs. Brandt."
Reasonable again. She wanted to smack him. "And why don't you ever call me Sarah? You think I'm beautiful, but you never call me Sarah."
He muttered something she didn't understand.
"You do think I'm beautiful," she insisted. "You said so!"
"Yes, I do," he said grudgingly. "And I do like you, Sarah. Now let's talk about something else, because you're going to be very embarrassed if you remember any of this conversation tomorrow. — Victoria Thompson

Don't test God and make some tests for him. That doesn't make any sense. Besides that he can do anything, above everything you could ask. He wants your heart to be real. He wants a volunteering lover. That's why he gives you a choice. He can tell a tree to grow and it will grow. But it's up to you to decide whether you obey him or not, he gave you a will. Even though he didn't give a tree a will, he gave you a will. And he says: "I want you to grow, will you grow? I want you to love me, will you love me? Like I love you, I love you so much." — Lacey Mosley

Whatcha got there?" Drake asked, nodding to the floor. "Snacks for me." I winked. "Well, now I'm offended." He fake pouted, scooting away from me in his seat, which made it even more funny because there was nowhere for him to go in the tiny car. "Why is that?" Nothing wrong with playing along, besides, he was cute when he was fake-mad. What was I saying? He was cute ALL the time. He turned to me and slid his arms around my waist, pulling me close. Far off, I caught a whiff of his scent. Mmm. Delicious. "It's just that I thought I was your snack on the go." His breath danced on my cheek, dangerously close to my lips. I giggled before I could stop myself. "Do you really want me to suck you dry?" "Mmm, that sounds like an offer I can't refuse." He raised his eyebrows and flashed a naughty grin. "Don't be dirty, I didn't mean that." I slapped his arm for good measure. "Is that all you think of me as - some kind of slutty vampire? — Karly Kirkpatrick

Ah, you pitiful, pitiful creatures! Beautiful family! Nobler far than stupid men ... " he cried softly to himself. What was he doing here with his arrow? Cornering these creatures? Armor
an armor to brag about! Save his dignity before that armor-maker because of a promise? Foolish ... foolish! If the old man jeered at him, why should it matter anymore; a common suit of armor would do as well! Armor did not make a man, nor did it signify valor.
"Dumb creatures that you are, how magnificent! Sorrow, love
parental love incarnate! Were I that fox
what if Tokiko and Shigemori were trapped like this? Even the beast can rise above itself
could I as much? — Eiji Yoshikawa

If he goes after Sophia's father right after the divorce, then everybody knows he's whacked out
over it." She'd spent some time analyzing it, running theories. "Like if I want to get Theo for
something, I sit back, wait, figure out how to hit him best. Then when I do, he's not expecting it and
doesn't even know why he's getting it." She nodded. "It's scientific, and lots more satisfying."
"The kid's a genius," Ty commented. — Nora Roberts

So what did Jes say?' I asked again, when my brain felt a bit less scrambled.
'He said I should take good care of you.'
'That's all?'
Mal cleared his throat. 'And ... he said he would pray to the God of Work to heal your affliction.'
'My what?'
'I many have told him that you have a goiter.'
I stumbled. 'I beg your pardon?'
'Well, I had to explain why you were always clinging to that scarf.'
I dropped my hand. I'd been doing it again without even realizing.
'So you told him I had a goiter?' I whispered incredulously.
'I had to say something. And it makes you quite a tragic figure. Pretty girl, giant growth, you know.'
I punched him hard in the arm.
'Ow! Hey, in some countries, goiters are considered very fashionable.'
'Do they like eunuchs, too? Because I can arrange that.'
'So bloodthirsty!'
'My goiter makes me cranky. — Leigh Bardugo

I have no idea what he wants. Maybe he needs to remind you to pack your skimpiest swimsuit." He paused. "Oh, wait, no. That's me." He grinned as I rolled my eyes.
"Why do I even try to have normal conversations with you?" I asked him. "Because you like talking to me. — Ada Adams

Why?" she screamed. "Are you crazy? You know the English subjunctive, you understand trigonometry, you can read Marx, and you don't know the answer to something as simple as that? Why do you even have to ask? Why do you have to make a girl SAY something like this? I like you more than I like him, that's all. I wish I had fallen in love with somebody a little more handsome, of course. But I didn't. I fell in love with you! — Haruki Murakami

I miss talking to him. Every time I come across something I think he'd like, I just wish I could call him up or send him a text. Like the other day, I saw this movie, Coherence. It was about parallel universes, and I just know he'd love it. That's the thing; he's the ongly person i know who would appreciete it the same way I do. And I wish I could watch it with him and talk to him about it. Why is that so important to me? I don't get it. I didn't even think about all this before I knew him. — Lang Leav

Very well, let's see. I'm very sympathetic about your having left Raffin. I think you're brave to have defied Randa as you did with that Ellis fellow; I don't know if I could've gone through with it. I think you have more energy than anyone I've ever encountered, though I wonder if you aren't a bit hard on your horse. I find myself wondering why you haven't wanted to marry Giddon, and if it's because you've intended to marry Raffin, and if so, whether you're even more unhappy to have left him than I realized. I'm very pleased you've come with me. I'd like to see you defend yourself for real, fight someone to the death, for it would be a thrilling sight. I think my mother would take to you. My brothers, of course, would worship you. I think you're the most quarrelsome person I've ever met. And I really do worry about your horse. — Kristin Cashore

I run my fingers along the thick, fabric wallpaper to steady myself. Putting one foot in front of another feels like learning to walk all over again. My body's still working. Heart's still beating. Lungs still moving. But not because I want them to. They do those things on their own, without me even asking. So why didn't they do it for Eamon ? How could his body just give up on him like that ? Fall apart. It made him seen so fragile, and I don't want to remember him that way. He was the strongest guy I knew. How could he break so easily ? It seems like our bodies would be built better. It just doesn't fucking seem real. — Jolene Perry

Xas sighed. "But I don't want to talk about God. Why do I? Sometimes I feel God is all over me like a pollen and I go about pollinating things with God."
Sobran opened his eyes and Xas smiled at him. Soban said, "I did think that you talked about God to persuade me you weren't evil. But I've decided that, for you, everything is somehow to the glory of God, whether you like it or not."
"I feel that, yes. My imagination was first formed in God's glory. But I think God didn't make the world, so I think my feelings are mistaken."
This was the heresy for which Xas was thrown out of Heaven. Sobran was happy it had finally appeared. It was like a clearing. Sobran could almost see this clearing - a silent, sunny, green space into which not a thing was falling, not even the call of a cuckoo. Xas thought the world was like this, an empty clearing into which God had wandered. — Elizabeth Knox

Police protection?"
"If necessary."
"I'm touched.Why don't I give you a lift, handsome?"
"I'll follow you over," he repeated.
"Suit yourself," she began, and grazed a hand over his cheek.Her eyes widened slightly as his fingers clamped on her wrist. "Don't like to be petted?" She purred the words,surprised at how her heart had jumped and started to race. "Most animals do."
His face was very close to hers, their bodies were just touching,with the heat from the room and something even more sweltering between them.Something old, and almost familiar.
He drew her hand down slowly, kept his fingers on her wrist.
"Be careful what buttons you push."
Excitement,she realized with surprise. It was pure, primal excitement that zipped through her. "Wasted advice," she said silkily, daring him. "I enjoy pushing new ones.And apparently you have a few interesting buttons just begging for attention." She skimmed her gaze deliberately down to his mouth. "Just begging. — Nora Roberts

Don't confuse [Father's Day] with Valentine's Day, and here's why. Boy, will you creep him out. I can just tell you from last year, uh, even if they do like chocolate, they don't want it from their son. — Jon Stewart

Why did you do this?" He was shaking. "Just tell me why."
I tried to muster up some of the righteous indignation that I'd felt on Friday night as I said, "You knocked over my gravestone!" But even to my ears the words sounded tinny and pathetic.
Dan's face was pale. "It was just a gravestone, Chelsea. And it was a mistake. I told you that already, and I meant it. I've never lied to you. My God, can't you tell the difference between a gravestone and a person you love? Can't you tel which one matters?"
But if I had to point to the real problem in my life, it's that I've never known the difference between a gravestone and a person I love. I have never known which is which until it's too late.
"All's fair in love and war," I reminded him, aiming for Tawny's tone. But my voice came out sounding just like me.
"Oh, yeah? And which is this?" he asked. "Love or war? — Leila Sales

Adonis is now treating her like a Princess. I think he might even propose marriage, since his wife has just divorced him!" Phyllis explained, & added conversationally,"Do you know why his wife divorced Adonis? For "impotence"! Or what they prefer to call "incompatibility"! Adonis had been giving all his sperm to Vicky at the massage parlour, & had nothing left for his wife. Whenever he had some, he would look for Vicky- so his wife found him incompatible! Don't you find it funny? He! He! He!" she laughed.[MMT] — Nicholas Chong

This is better than a romance novel." P.J. said with a wistful sigh.
"You read that stuff?" Cole demanded.
"Why the hell do you ask the question like that?" P.J. said, annoyance evident in her tone and expression.
"You just didn't seem the type," Cole mumbled.
She flipped him the bird, and Shea had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. P.J. was easily half Cole's size but she also looked like she had the confidence to take on the much larger man. She might even kick his ass. The idea intrigued Shea greatly.
"I'm tempted to shove one of my romance novels up your ass." P.J. said sharply. "But I love my books too much to desecrate them like that, I'll settle for my boot."
Cole held up his hands in surrender. "I won't say another word. Romance novels are great. I love romance novels. I think everyone should read them. — Maya Banks

Mother says that people like me just become intellectual old maids,' I told him.
'I don't see why,' he protested.
'Oh, well, it's probably true!' I said, rather sharply, for misery had as usual made me irritable. 'After the War there'll be no one for me to marry.'
'Not even me?' he asked very softly.
'How do I know I shall want to marry you when that time comes?'
'You know you wouldn't be happy unless you married an odd sort of person.'
'That rather narrows the field of choice, doesn't it?'
'Well
do you need it to be so very wide? — Vera Brittain