A Quote by Becca Fitzpatrick

I was just about to ask you the same thing. I know you followed me. Don't look so suprised. It's called a rearview mirror. Are you stalking me for a specific reason? — © Becca Fitzpatrick
I was just about to ask you the same thing. I know you followed me. Don't look so suprised. It's called a rearview mirror. Are you stalking me for a specific reason?
I know you followed me. Don't look so surprised. It's called a rearview mirror.
I really try to forget. I only look at my old works if there's an interview and someone asks me about it. Otherwise, it's not even in the rearview mirror.
See, when you drive home today, you've got a big windshield on the front of your car. And you've got a little bitty rearview mirror. And the reason the windshield is so large and the rearview mirror is so small is because what's happened in your past is not near as important as what's in your future.
I love driving, but sometimes, I'm not too good at it because I spend too much time looking in the rearview mirror if I know I'm being followed. You don't respond like, 'Oh, there's paparazzi.' It's more like, 'There's a man, and he's going to attack me.' That's how your body responds.
She'd always believed that people come in two varieties: those who look out the windshield and those who stare in the rearview mirror. She'd always been the windshield type: gotta focus on the future, not the past, because that's the only part that's still up for grabs. Mom throws me out? Gotta get some food and find a place to live. Husband dies? Gotta keep working, or I'll end up going crazy. Got some guy stalking me? Gotta figure out a way to stop it.
God reveals Himself in rearview mirrors. And I've an inkling that there are times when we need to drive a long, long distance, before we can look back and see God's back in the rearview mirror. Maybe sometimes about as far as heaven -- that kind of distance.
I don't know why, but if I was walking down the street, the same people who called me freak would probably ask for a picture. It's a real strange thing.
Ehlena: Look, the reason I called was -- Rehv: Because you needed an excuse. You shut me down in the exam room, but really wanted to talk to me. So you called me on the phone. And now you have me. (That voice dropped even lower) Do I get to pick what you do with me?
I never look in the rearview mirror.
There's something very surreal about driving a truck, looking in the rearview mirror, and seeing 20 cop cars behind you. Even though you know, 'We're just shooting. This is just a scene; we're making a movie here,' it's very unsettling.
I stand up, sure of one thing and one thing only. That my father will come and get me. He won't give me a lecture, he won't try to teach me a lesson. He won't ask a thousand questions or ask me to apologize. He'll just come and get me. "Just tell me where you are.
If people ask me about it, I think it would be great for me to be like, 'Look, [Kanye West] called me and told me the line before it came out. Like, joke's on you guys, we're fine'.
I don't tend to look at myself through the rearview mirror where dates are concerned. I have blinders on the past and try to look forward.
I've always said, just go ask my teammates if you want to know about me. Go ask the guys that I've played with. Don't ask or get information about me from people who are not in the locker room or not around me all of the time. Then you'll get legit answers.
If you'd bothered to ask me, Clark, if you'd bothered to consult me just once about this so-called fun outing of ours, I could have told you. I hate horses, and horse racing. Always have. But you didn't bother to ask me. You decided what you thought you'd like me to do, and you went ahead and did it. You did what everyone else does. You decided for me.
The joke's on them. One little hypodermic wont' be enough. Split a piece of wood, and they'll find me. Lift up a stone, and they'll find me. Look in the mirror, and they'll find me...If you really want to know what makes someone a killer, ask yourself what would make you do it.
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