A Quote by Rachel Caine
What’s your name?' she asked, and surprised herself. But for some reason, she wanted to know. Dean’s brother—he hadn’t been just some nameless Bad Guy Number Four. This vampire wasn’t,either. He had a name, a history, maybe even people who cared what happened to him. My name is none of your business,' he said, and continued to stare out the window, even though there was nothing but blurry brick out there. Can I call you None for short?
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...You can have this whole entire life, with all your opinions, your loves, your fears. Eventually those parts of you disappear. And then the people who could remember those parts of you disappear, and before long, all that's left is your name in some ledger. This...person -- she had a favorite food. She had friends and people she disliked. We don't even know how she died...I guess that's why I like preservation better than history. In preservation I feel like I can keep some of it from slipping away.
Kylie Minogue is just a demonic little idiot as far as I'm concerned. She gets cool dance producers to work with her for some bizarre reason, I don't know why. She doesn't even have a good name. It's a stupid name, Kylie, I just don't get it.
I've learnt to realise my brother is my own best friend. He'd always stick his nose in even though I turned around and said "It's none of your business", I know he only wanted to look out for me.
Some people say, 'If she's so real, why does she call herself with a made-up name?' Well, India is my real name. Or they say, 'If she's so real, why does she wear makeup?' I didn't know there was anything wrong with makeup.
There were also the razor marks on her wrists and forearms, half a dozen per arm, not very deep, not very convincing really, just a lame, hapless attempt at hurting herself. There hadn't even been that much blood and nobody at the hospital had been at all surprised. These scars, for some reason, he didn't mind. Maybe they even appealed to him. They showed that she was weak and in need of him.
Names are still magic; even Sharon, Karen, Darren, and Warren are magic to somebody somewhere. In fairy stories, naming is knowledge. When I know your name, I can call your name, and when I call your name, you'll come to me.
although she went home that night feeling happier than she had ever been in her short life, she did not confuse the golf course party with a good party, and she did not tell herself she had a pleasant time. it had been, she felt, a dumb event preceded by excellent invitations. what frankie did that was unusual was to imagine herself in control. the drinks, the clothes, the instructions, the food (there had been none), the location, everything. she asked herself: if i were in charge, how could i have done it better?
Ralston didn't care. He turned on his brother as the surgeon knelt next to him and inspected the wound. "She could have been killed!" And what about you?" This time, it was Callie who spoke, her own pent-up energy releasing in anger, and the men turned as one to look at her, surprised that she and found her voice. "What about you and your idiotic pland to somehow restore my honor by playing guns out in the middle of nowhere with OXFORD?" She said the baron's name in disdain. "Like children? Of all the ridiculous, unnecessary, thoughtless, MALE things to do...who even FIGHTS duels anymore?!
When she orgasmed, she said his name. Twice. And didn’t it make him glad that even though he had no voice, his ears worked just fine. –JM
Even some rock star girls, which I didn't really know her name. I will probably find out and probably get slaughtered for not knowing her name, but she brought some of her clothes that she used to wear on stage. I wore one of the corsets and stuff. I don't know why I'm blanking. It was not Pat Benatar. It's like Debbie Gibson, Pat Benatar, Joan Jett, I know those girls.
The first role as "Fashion Show Guy" should not be on my IMDb anymore. That's the sort of thing you put on your IMDb when you have no credits and you really just want to have a line on your résumé. I had just gotten to New York and there was a massive open call for extras for Sex and the City. One of my college roommates' buddies - there was some connection - she worked in the office and saw my name in the massive stack of randoms just trying to be on the show, which was a big hit. She's like, "I know this dude. Let's throw him in there."
Guys would always start by saying, 'You ain't going to get nothing today, Sharpe!' And I'd say, 'Know what? Don't be surprised if your name is on the waiver wire tomorrow. It could have been prevented. But you wanted to go there. So now when you see your name on the wire, you'll know who put it there.'
We humans have had from time unknown the compulsion to name things and thus to be able to deal with them. The name we give to something shapes our attitude toward it. And in ancient thought the name itself has power, so that to know someone's name is to have a certain power over him. And in some societies, as you know, there was a public name and a real or secret name, which would not be revealed to others.
Are you sure?" Aidan asked, "Gavriel's still a vampire." "He warned me about you and about them. He didn't have to. I'm not going to repay that by-" she hesitated, then frowned. "What did you call him?" "That's his name," Aidan sighed, "Gavriel. The other vampires, while they were tying me to the bed, they said his name." "Oh." With a final tug she pulled the blanked free and tossed it over to 'Gavriel' -Tana and Aidan-page 23-chapter 3
Your boyfriend and Micah will both be speechless." I unfastened my seatbelt. "That's the third time I've heard 'your boyfriend.' What's going on about that? Why won't anyone say Brayden's name?" Neither of them answered right away. Finally, Jill said sheepishly, "Because none of us can remember it." "Oh, come on! I'd expect that from Adrian but not you guys. It's not that weird of a name." "No," admitted Eddie. "But there's just something so...I don't know. Unmemorable about him. I'm glad he makes you happy, but I just start to tune out whenever he talks.
In seventh grade I had a magical teacher, her name was Mrs. Fried. She wore only pink, she drove a pink Mustang, and she was half out of her head. But very inspiring. And one day she said, "Take out a paper and pen and write something about peace." For some reason I wrote a poem on Noah - I don't know why I chose Noah - and it turned out it was for a contest for the UN. I ended up winning and reading the poem in front of the UN. I remember Mrs. Fried telling me, "When you write your first book, dedicate it to me." That was like, "Whoa."
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