A Quote by Cecelia Ahern

To mention it was to ask a favor and that as you were too generous, and as for her to ask was always to have, she wouldn't — © Cecelia Ahern
To mention it was to ask a favor and that as you were too generous, and as for her to ask was always to have, she wouldn't
Ask any woman how she makes it through the day, and she may mention her calendar, her to-do lists, her babysitter. But if you push her on how she really makes it through her day, she will mention her girlfriends.
My daughter lives in an apartment (hovel) in Brooklyn, so disgusting the roaches don't even bother hiking up the four flights of stairs to her door. Did I mention that she has a family of mice living under her stove? If she would promise to carry a weapon in her bag, I would never ask her to visit again. Best Mother's Day gift I could ask for!
Let’s not ask Barbara Walters about how Muslim women feel. Let’s not ask Tom Brokaw how Muslim women feel. Let’s not ask CNN, ABC, FOX, The London Times, or the Australia Times. Let’s not ask non-Muslims how Muslim women feel, how they live, what are their principles, and what are their challenges. If you want to be fair, ask a Muslim woman. Ask my wife. Ask my mother. Ask a Muslim woman who knows her religion, who has a relationship with her Creator, who is stable in her society, understands her responsibilities. Ask her.
Ask not of me, love, what is love? Ask what is good of God above; Ask of the great sun what is light; Ask what is darkness of the night; Ask sin of what may be forgiven; Ask what is happiness of heaven; Ask what is folly of the crowd; Ask what is fashion of the shroud; Ask what is sweetness of thy kiss; Ask of thyself what beauty is.
Think how you love me,' she whispered. 'I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember.' You'll always be like this to me.' Oh no; but promise me you'll remember.' Her tears were falling. 'I'll be different, but somewhere lost inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight.
My wife, she likes to have things uncluttered, and if something is missing, then one has to be very careful not to ask her if it was thrown out - you have to ask her simply where it might be.
I'd always ask my grandma, who was so, so smart, why she didn't work, and she would explain that her parents didn't approve of her working after she had children. She didn't feel like she had choices.
I was the first person that had been so kind to Iman Abdulmajid. As time went on, and she became successful, signed with an agency, when she had to make big decisions, she wouldn't always talk to an agent, she'd ask me. I'd give her good advice and she'd be on her way. When I had ideas to do things like the Black Girls Coalition, I would always talk to her, she always loved my ideas. She trusts me.
People are always asking, "Is this person in front of me the same on the inside as he or she appears to be on the outside? Is there congruence between what's within that person and the words and actions I'm viewing and hearing externally?" Children ask that about their parents; students ask it about their teachers; parishioners ask it about their pastors and priests; employees ask it about their bosses; and in a democracy, citizens ask it about their political leaders.
Do you know him well?" I ask.I am too curious; I always have been. "Everyone knows Four," she says. "We were initiates together.I was bad at fighting,so he taught me every night after everyone was asleep." She scratches the back of her neck, her expression suddenly serious. "Nice of him." She gets up and stands behind the members sitting in the doorway. In a second, her serious expression is gone,but I still feel rattled by what she said, half confused by the idea of Four being "nice" and half wanting to punch her for no apparent reason.
She said she thought it [ letter "C"] meant alphabetical order. But nobody bothered to ask did she ever see an "A," a "B," a "D," or an "E." If I were cross-examining her I darn well would have asked her that question.
I was in love with a girl in my class when I was in primary school, and she obviously thought I was a freak, so that wasn't working out. And the the guys in my class, every two weeks they'd say, 'Hey, we spoke to her, and she really likes you now. You should go and ask her again.' And then I'd go and ask her again.
Whenever I ask Siri for directions or a recommendation, I also ask her a trick question. Her answers are usually wacky. She scolds me for cursing, which I love, but she has no problem with ethics. If I say, 'Remind me to rob a bank at 3 P.M.,' she responds, 'Here's your reminder for today at 3 P.M.: Rob a bank. Shall I create it?'
The other one he loved like a slave, like a madman and like a beggar. Why? Ask the dust on the road and the falling leaves, ask the mysterious God of life; for no one knows such things. She gave him nothing, no nothing did she give him and yet he thanked her. She said: Give me your peace and your reason! And he was only sorry she did not ask for his life.
And if that child should ever get the chance to travel the world and someone should ask her where is she from, we believe that she should always be able to hold her head high with pride in her voice when she answers, "I am an American." That is the course we seek. That is the change we are calling for.
She smiled, pulling the photo a little closer, and I wondered if I should ask her, too, the question for my project, get her definition. But as she ran a finger slowly across the faces, identifying each one, it occurred to me that maybe this was her answer. All those names, strung together like beads on a chain. Coming together, splitting apart, but still and always, a family. (page 289) ~Ruby
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