A Quote by Laurell K. Hamilton

Love, whether it's friendship or more, is like a cup. It fills up drop by drop, until one last drop and the cup is full. The liquid hangs there almost above the rim, hangs there on surface tension alone and you know that one more drop and it will spill over.
We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over.
we do not die of anguish, we live on. We continue to suffer. We drink the cup drop by drop.
Don't believe that jazz about there's nothing you can do, "turn on and drop out, man" - because you've got to turn on and drop in, or they're going to drop all over you.
Listen, O drop, give yourself up without regret, and in exchange gain the Ocean. Listen, O drop, bestow upon yourself this honor, and in the arms of the Sea be secure. Who indeed should be so fortunate? An Ocean wooing a drop! In God's name, in God's name, sell and buy at once! Give a drop, and take this Sea full of pearls.
Obviously, when you drop a ball early in the game, it could be worse. You can go on to drop many more balls or stuff like that.
Do you know they've already seen a drop of 37% in donations [for Clinton Global Initiative]? Now, if it's a charity, why a 37% drop? There's a 37% drop because the donors figured out the Clintons can't do anything for 'em anymore. That's not pretty.
We always try to mix it up-three-step drop, five-step drop, seven-step drop, naked bootleg. We spread out all these kinds of things to keep the defensive pass rush unbalanced.
A cup brimful of sweetness cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, no matter how suddenly jarred.
Drop by drop is the water pot filled. Likewise, the wise man, gathering it little by little, fills himself with good.
A jug fills drop by drop.
A hook shot kisses the rim and hangs there, helplessly, but doesn't drop and for once our gangly starting center boxes out his man and times his jump perfectly, gathering the orange leather/from the air like a cherished possession.
We love the old saints, missionaries, martyrs, and reformers. Our Luthers, Bunyans, Wesleys and Asburys, etc... We will write their biographies, reverence their memories, frame their epitaphs, and build their monuments. We will do anything except imitate them. We cherish the last drop of their blood, but watch carefully over the first drop of our own.
One drop of hatred in your soul will spread and discolor everything like a drop of black ink in white milk.
If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love. For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, however suddenly jolted.
The second thing: nobody has ever been able to drop the ego because ego is not a reality that you can drop; anything to be dropped at least has to be real, substantial. Ego is just a notion, an idea. You cannot drop it, you can only understand it. Can you drop your shadow? You can run as fast as you want but your shadow will run at the same speed, exactly the same speed.
Fight on and fly on to the last drop of blood and the last drop of fuel, to the last beat of the heart.
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