A Quote by Kiera Cass

Do you think," Maxon asked, "that I could still call you 'my dear'?" "Not a chance," I whispered. "I'll keep trying. I don't have it in me to give up." And I believed him. It was annoying to think he'd press that issue. "Did you call all of them that?" I nodded my head toward the rest of the room. "Yes, and they all seemed to like it." "That is the exact reason why I don't.
I’ve met nearly every woman in this room, and I can’t think of one who would make a better friend. I’d be glad to have you stay." My relief was inexpressible. "Do you think," Maxon asked, "That I could still call you ‘my dear’?" "Not a chance." I whispered.
What do you think?" he asked, his voice deep and commanding. I eyed him. "Impressive, but too much." He leaned toward me, the blue eyes smoky with a promise I was shure he could fulfill. I tried not to think of the bedroom. "Too much?" "Yes. I like the menace. It's very masculine, but he looks like he would screw everything in sight and call me 'wench
I would [call myself a feminist], yes. I believe in the unadulterated advancement of women. And we have so far to go still. I do think because women are so clever and flexible and such good communicators, it been hard for men to evolve and keep up. I think we could do a little better to help them out.
I think the exploration and the search for who Jesus is, and that 2,000 years later we're still trying to figure out who He was, and did He really rise from the dead... And I think for me, the answer is 'yes,' and that's why we're talking about Him today.
When the [US] president writes to Kim Jong Il, the son, the Dear Leader, he doesn't call him Dear Mr President, he calls him Dear Mr Secretary. Have you ever noticed that? Why is that? Because he's not the president of North Korea, he's the head of the Communist Party, the North Korean Workers' Party and he's the head of the Army. He's not head of the state. The head of the state is his father, who's been dead for 15 years.
Do you think, that I could still call you 'my dear'?
I still think about the letter you asked me to write. It nags at me, even though you're gone and there's no one to give it to anymore. Sometimes I work on it in my head, trying to map out the story you asked me to tell, about everything that happened this past fall and winter. It's all still there, like a movie I can watch when I want to. Which is never.
As reason returned to me, memory came with it, and I saw that even on the worst days, when I thought I was utterly and completely miserable, I was nevertheless, and nearly all the time, extremely happy. That gave me something to think about. The discovery was not a pleasant one. It seemed to me that I was losing a great deal. I asked myself, wasn't I sad, hadn't I felt my life breaking up? Yes, that had been true; but each minute, when I stayed without moving in a corner of the room, the cool of the night and the stability of the ground made me breathe and rest on gladness.
He's a wallflower." And Bob nodded his head. And the whole room nodded their head. And i started to feel nervous in the Bob way, but Patrick didn't let me get too nervous. He sat down next to me. "You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand.
I need to call Matt and let him know I'm okay," I said. Finn held the passenger door open while I got inside. As soon as he got in the driver's seat, I turned to him. "Well? Can I call him?" "You really want to?" Finn asked as he started the car. "Yes, of course I do! Why is that so suprising?
Did you ever see so many pee-wee hats, Carl?" "They're beanies." "They call them pee-wees in Brooklyn." "But I'm not in Brooklyn." "But you're still a Brooklynite." "I wouldn't want that to get around, Annie." "You don't mean that, Carl." "Ah, we might as well call them beanies, Annie." "Why?" "When in Rome do as the Romans do." "Do they call them beanies in Rome?" she asked artlessly. "This is the silliest conversation.
Rose!" I looked to my right and saw Adrian cutting across the lawn toward me, oblivious to the slush's effects on his designer shoes. "Did you just call me 'Rose'?" I asked. "And not 'little dhampir'? I don't think that's ever happened." "It happens all the time," he countered, catching up to me.
God-realization is the most difficult state to reach. Let no one fool himself, nor think that someone else can "give" it to him. Whenever I fell into a state of mental stagnation, my Master could do nothing for me. But I never gave up trying to keep in tune with him by cheerfully performing whatever he asked me to do. "I have come to him for God-realization," I reasoned, "and I must listen to his advice."
The attorney general called and asked me if I was willing to be interviewed for FBI director. And the truth is I told him I didn't think so, that I thought it was too much for my family. But that I would sleep on it and call him back in the morning. And so I went to bed that night convinced I was going to call him back and say no.
I think I was trying to choose a name for him, and my flatmate was like, 'Oh, you should call him Diana.' I was like, 'Yeah. Very funny.' I think someone then said 'Diana Spencer,' and I'd always wanted to call my dog quite like an old person name, like Janet or something like that. 'Spencer' weirdly fit that bill.
I am not really thinking, I am just, working with the music. And people have asked me, why don't you say more, or why do you not have singers, or why don't you sing? I think it's because, if I would have words for what I am doing, I I could write. But I really don't. It's a whole different thing. And I think it's one of the beauty of instrumental music is that it can be background. It can be what people call "easy listening." But it's really one of those things where it's as much as you are willing to give it.
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