A Quote by Nicholas Sparks

She was, in other words, the kind of girl who made the rest of us look bad, and whenever she glanced my way, I couldn't help but feel guilty, even though I hadn't done anything wrong.
It wasn't about how she looked, which was pretty, even though she was always wearing the wrong clothes and those beat-up sneakers. It wasn't about what she said in class--usually something no one else would've thought of, and if they had, something they wouldn't have dared to say. It wasn't that she was different from all the other girls at Jackson. That was obvious. It was that she made me realize how much I was just like the rest of them, even if I wanted to pretend I wasn't.
I was raised the Chinese way: I was taught to desire nothing, to swallow other people's misery, to eat my own bitterness. And even though I taught my daughter the opposite, still she came out the same way! Maybe it is because she was born to me and she was born a girl. And I was born to my mother and I was born a girl. All of us are like stairs, one step after another, going up and down, but all going the same way.
Shane, in case we don’t … don’t come out of this, I wanted to say…” He glanced over at her, and she felt her whole body warm from it. She remembered that look. It made her feel naked inside and out, but not in a creepy kind of way. In a way that felt…. Free. “If what you say is true, and I guess it has to be, I think I know why we’re … together,” he said. “I think I’d fall for you no matter what, Claire. You’re kind of awesome.
The thing is, whenever I see Hillary Clinton, I feel like I have to vote for her. She makes me feel guilty because I feel like I should vote for her so that she'll feel better about herself because she'd been in such a bad marriage.
Is it good or bad?" she asked Issa. The wrong question, she knew. She just couldn't help herself. "It's both, sweet girl," said Issa. "like everything.
The girl was lighter without her heart. She danced barefoot on the hot roads, and her feet were not cut by the glass or stones that studded her way. She spoke to the dead whenever they visited her. She tried to be kind, but they realised that they no longer had anything in common with her, and she realised it, too. So they went their separate ways.
Ah," she cried, "you look so cool." Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in space. With an effort she glanced down at the table. You always look so cool," she repeated. She had told him that she loved him, and Tom Buchanan saw.
I don't feel that Shaunae Miller cheated me because she didn't break any rules or anything like that, but I do feel like it's a very difficult way to lose. Having worked so hard and I know that that was such a close race, it just kind of made it even harder to deal with defeat just because of how it was done. But I don't think that she had any ill intention by it or did it on purpose. I think it just kind of happened.
A woman can do anything. She can be traditionally feminine and that's all right; she can work, she can stay at home; she can be aggressive; she can be passive; she can be any way she wants with a man. But whenever there are the kinds of choices there are today, unless you have some solid base, life can be frightening.
And now I realize Lindsay's not fearless. She's terrified. She's terrified that people will find out she's faking, bullshitting her way through life, pretending to have everything together when really she's just floundering like the rest of us. Lindsay, who will bite at you if you even look in her direction the wrong way, like on of those tiny attack dogs that are always barking and snapping in the air before they're jerked backward on the chains that keep them in one place.
Parents and leaders should give early help to the blase girl who is often overpainted and underdressed. She is the picture of an unhappy girl whose physical adornments, to her thinking, don't invite adequate attention. Heaven help the girl who gets the kind of attention she is seeking by being overpainted and underdressed! She will rue the day, of course, when she gets the kind of attention her flagrant invitation is giving.
Aaliyah revolutionized what it was to be a young black woman in America. She made it OK to be a nerd and to be a tomboy. She made it OK to wear leather and chains. She was the first black girl with an ombre. She was so far ahead of everything and everyone. It was just who she was. She was an innovator, but she didn't even realize it.
A girl, if she has any pride, is so ashamed of having anything she wishes to say out of the hearing of her own family, she thinks it must be something so very wrong, that it is ten to one, if she have the opportunity of saying it, that she will not.
There are no words for how much I will miss her, but I try to kiss her so that she'll know. I try to kiss her to tell her the whole story of my love, the way I dreamed of her when she was dead, the way that every other girl seemed like a mirror that showed me her face. The way my skin ached for her. The way that kissing her made me feel like I was drowning and like I was being saved all at the same time. I hope she can taste all that, bittersweet, on my tongue.
Cassandra always hid when she read, though she never quite knew why. It was as if she couldn't shake the guilty suspicion that she was being lazy, that surrendering herself so completely to something so enjoyable must surely be wrong. But surrender she did. Let herself drop through the rabbit hole and into a tale of magic and mystery.
I don't look at her like she's a bad girl. She just misunderstood sometime, she's a little troubled, she's a little dysfunctional. She's a survivor.
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