Top 162 Quotes & Sayings by Susan Elizabeth Phillips - Page 3

You try spending six months sitting at somebody's bedside, waiting for them to die and then tell me that the happy-ending love story isn't one of God's good gifts.

I'm not living in the shadows anymore. I want to walk in the sun. But I can't do that without you.

All it means is that, while our minds may have trouble communicating, our bodies don't have any problem at all." "I don't think it's that simple." "Sure it is." "The earth moved," she said softly. "That has to be more than bodies communicating.

Isn't there a mirror someplace where you can go admire yourself?" "I never knew a woman so hung up on my good looks." "All your women are hung up on your good looks. They just pretend it's your personality.

There’s no accounting for the mysteries of the human heart

I sure do miss that woman. Smart. Funny. Sweet. She never gave me a moment's trouble." "Gosh, I'm sorry about that. I knew it was boring between you two, but not that bad.

If you want me, you'll have to earn me. And, mister, I don't come cheap.

Okay, so I'll admit I'm curious. Big deal. We both know what that leads to. Dead cat.

You were the best birthday present I ever got." "Thank you." "I wanted to give you something back, but I've got to warn you that it's not half as good as my present. Even so, you have to keep it." "All right." He draped the pink bow around his neck and grinned. "Happy birthday, Rosebud.

...I have to tell you that I'm not all that comfortable with the idea of spending the rest of my life sleeping next to somebody who's got the power to fire me if my underwear doesn't make it all the way to the hamper." She repressed a smile. "I'm sympathetic to your problem, but I'm not selling the team just so you can be a slob." "Somehow I didn't expect you would.

As far as I'm concerned, men like you were put on this world to entertain women like me.

There was something missing inside me I was trying to fill up, but I went about doing it the wrong way. But there sure isn't anything missing inside me now, because you're there.

The love story between the hero and the heroine has to be at the center of the book. I think that's pretty true in my books. I usually write a secondary love story, with maybe nontraditional characters. Sometimes I write older characters. I'm interested in female friendships, and family relationships. So I don't write the traditional romance, where you just have the hero and the heroine's love story. I like intertwining relationships.

I love you, Meg. I want to marry you. I want to sleep with you every night, make love with you, have kids. I want to fight together and work together and—just be together. Now are you going to keep standing there, staring at me, or could you put me out of my misery and say you still love me, at least a little?

She's as plastic as you are. If you ever have kids, they'll come out of the birth canal with Fisher-Price stamped on their butts.

For all your talk, you don't know the first thing about love." Tears spilled over her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. She slipped the chain that held his Super Bowl ring over her head and pressed it into his palm. "I love you, Bobby Tom, and I'll love you till the day I die. But I've never been for sale. I was a free offering all along.

Something brushed his leg, and he gazed down into the face of Pippi Tucker. The theme from Jaws raced through his head.

Honey lamb, there are a lot of things in this world I feel insecure about. Religion. Our national economic policies. What color socks to wear with a blue suit. But I've got to tell you that my performance in that hotel room last night isn't one of them.

So, Beav, tell me about yourself." "I'm Blue." "Sweetheart, if I had your dubious taste in men, I wouldn't be too happy, either." "My name is Blue. Blue Bailey.

I guess we're oil and water. (Phoebe) I'd say we're more like gasoline and a blowtorch. (Dan)

Before you lost your mind, how did you make a living?" "I was a hitman for the Mafia. Are you done crying yet?" "I wasn't crying! And I wish you were a hitman because, if I had money, I'd hire you right this minute to knock yourself off.

Dallas, is it remotely possible for you to carry on a conversation that's not loaded down with manure?

He should have seen this coming, but he hadn't. Of course she wouldn't want to move back to Wynette after everything that had happened to her there. But what about his family, his friends, his roots, which stretched so deep into that rocky soil he'd become part of it?

The question is… How did a girl like Annabelle manage to talk a man like you into joining our silly little family party?” Annabelle smiled sweetly. “I promised he could tie me up afterward and spank me.

Before you go anywhere, Mr. Football Player,” Nita said, “I want to know exactly what your intentions are toward my Blue.

When you've been around a snake long enough, you learn how to crawl in the dirt.

There you are," he said when she bobbed up. "I was getting worried." "What are you doing?" "Waiting till you're ready to drown." He smiled and eased back down on the seat. "And then I'm going to save your life. Dan did it for Phoebe and I'm going to do it for you." "Dan didn't try to murder her first!" she screamed. "I go the extra mile.

Ironic, isn't it, what religion does to people?" "I guess it's more ironic what people do to religion.

For a moment he could have sworn he smelled violets, which was very peculiar, since he had no idea what violets smelled like, except somehow he knew they smelled just like Lady Emma.

Sugar Beth detected the movement and shot him a look that challenged not only his manhood but also his very right to exist on the planet.

We just lost our electricity. You want to tell me what’s so funny about that?” “It’s not exactly funny. It’s more of a good news/bad news situation.” “In that case, hit me with the good news first.” “They’re both sort of rolled up into one.” “Stop stalling.” “All right. Now don’t get mad, but . . .” Smothered laughter drifted toward him. “Cal . . . I’m naked.

Hey, everybody, Jerry Maguire's here.

He sounds like Jesus. Except rich and sexy.” “Watch it, Meg. In this town joking about Jesus could get you shot. You’ve never seen so many of the faithful who’re armed.

You never get mad,” she said when their server left the table. “Except at me.” “That’s not true,” he said tightly. “Torie can get me going.” “Torie doesn’t count. You were obviously her mother in a previous life.

Everybody’s afraid of something.

There's nothing sexier in a man than intelligence.

She gave Pretty Boy a surreptitious glance. Did he honestly expect her to believe he was gay? True, there were the gay boots and those stunning good looks. But, even so, he blasted enough heterosexual mega-wattage to light up the entire female population. Which he’d undoubtedly been doing since he shot out of the birth canal, glimpsed his reflection in the obstetrician’s eyeglasses, and gave the world a high five.

I'm just very, very slow. I would not make it as a journalist, I've got to tell you. I sweat bullets over every sentence, and sometimes, you know, a day will pass and I've written one paragraph, and I've been at the computer for four hours.

I don't care how much evidence the state presented. I've never for one moment believed he murdered that waitress.

You lit into me last night. You said what I did was stupid. - That's what my head said. But my heart... My stupid heart... Her voice broke. It was singing.

In case you still haven't figured it out, he loves you. Your tiger will be back in the morning, and you can thank me anytime. Now, do I have to paint another picture for you, or do you think you can take it from here by yourself without screwing up?

I always want to try to bring something fresh to every book. It's getting harder instead of easier. I feel like I work harder with each book. But I don't want it to show on the pages, that's for sure.