A Quote by Sherrilyn Kenyon

He says he’d rather be dead than leave me. According to him, we’re family. I guess that makes me the psycho uncle no one wants to talk to. And he’s the kid with only imaginary friends for company. ‘Normal’ Rockwell, here we come. (Jared)
I started to make a joke that I had an imaginary friend underneath the let-out couch named Binky. I would never talk to him; I would only use him as entertainment for other people. I knew they thought that children had imaginary friends, so I was like, "I don't really believe in imaginary friends, but I want to feel like I do." I used to make a joke, "My imaginary friend Binky says this," because I knew it would get a laugh out of them.
I (God) will leave man to make the fateful guess, Will leave him torn between the no and yes, Leave him unresting till he rests in me, Drawn upward by the choice that makes him free, Leave him in tragic loneliness to choose, With all in life to win or all to lose.
One of the lambs fixed its attention on Jared. “Baa,” it flirted. “Boo,” said Jared. “Oh my God, Jared. Don’t tough-talk the lambs.” "It was giving me a funny look.
I do all kinds of roles - nerd, psycho, nerd, psycho, nerd, psycho - and occasionally someone kind of normal. It's weird, when I lived in Austin I was always cast as pretty normal people. But when I moved to Los Angeles I was immediately branded a psycho
I do all kinds of roles - nerd, psycho, nerd, psycho, nerd, psycho - and occasionally someone kind of normal. It's weird, when I lived in Austin I was always cast as pretty normal people. But when I moved to Los Angeles I was immediately branded a psycho.
When I was a kid I had an imaginary friend and I used to think that he went everywhere with me, and that I could talk to him and that he could hear me, and that he could grant me wishes and stuff. And then I grew up, and I stopped going to church.
For my own part, I would rather be in company with a dead man than with an absent one; for if the dead man gives me no pleasure, at least he shows me no contempt; whereas the absent one, silently indeed, but very plainly, tells me that he does not think me worth his attention.
Clary: "He wanted me to come with him. To join him and Sebastain. I guess he wants their evil little duo to be a little evil trio." She shrugged. "Maybe he's lonely. Sebastian cant be the greatest company. Magnus: we don't know that. He could be absolutely fantastic at Scrabble.
Often, though, the passivity of the woman's role weighs on me, suffocates me. Rather than wait for his pleasure, I would like to take it, to run wild. Is it that which pushes me into lesbianism? It terrifies me. Do women act thus? Does June go to Henry when she wants him? Does she mount him? Does she wait for him? He guides my inexperienced hands. It is like a forest fire, to be with him. New places of my body are aroused and burnt. He is incendiary. I leave him in an unquenchable fever.
Everything with me is normal except when I pitch (in Fenway Park). When I pitch here it's a little different. There is a little more anxiety to go along with the nostalgia because this is the park I grew up with as a kid. This is the park I dreamed of playing Major League Baseball in and no other ballpark has that feeling for me. There are a lot more family and friends here than in my normal starts and I want to pitch well here.
When I was young, I did Baby Guess and Guess Kids - Paul Marciano saw me when I was a baby and decided I was going to be his next whatever. After Guess Kids, my mom made me stop. She would not let me sign with an agency until I was 17 because she wanted me to be a normal kid and accept myself for who I was.
The imaginary friends I had as a kid dropped me because their friends thought I didn't exist.
Talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial.
I've tried to have a really normal life, and I have because my family treats me normal, and my friends treat me just the same.
I can’t touch him. (Jared) Well, don’t you suck. (Stryker) Oh, believe me, I couldn’t agree more. Just be grateful it’s not contagious. (Jared)
One of the tools I like a lot is the Just Like Me practice. It's one of the empathy practices where we put ourselves in the other's shoes. Rather than get caught up in the difference in the ideologies, we actually come back to the fundamental idea: just like me, this person on the opposite political spectrum wants to be happy, wants to be safe, wants to thrive, wants to be healthy, wants to find peace of mind.
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