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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #judi
As she grew older, Maddy discovered that she had disappointed almost everyone. An awkward girl with a sullen mouth, a curtain of hair, and a tendency to slouch, she had neither Mae's sweet nature nor sweet face. Her eyes were rather beautiful, but few people ever noticed this, and it was widely believed Maddy was ugly, a troublemaker, too clever for her own good, too stubborn - or too slack - to change. Of course, folk agreed that it was not her fault she was so brown or her sister so pretty, but a smile costs nothing, as the saying goes, and if only the girl had made an effort once in a while, or even showed a little gratitude for all the help and free advice, then maybe she would have settled down. ↗
I couldn't return to you, mignonne. I didn't know how. But you will admit, I hope, that for a man who didn't wish to be found I've made quite a spectacle of myself. I wanted you to hear of me. It's why I came from France. I couldn't stop myself. I've waited in dread, wondering if you'd come. I've been terrified you would, and terrified you wouldn't. When I saw you tonight I wanted to weep. I was so grateful you came, but I hated you for it, too, because you made me hope again, as you always have, as you always do. It would have killed me if. . . Ah, Christ, love! You were so angry, so disappointed but you'd waited. I had to know. I had to come because without you I have nothing to believe in, nothing to hope for, and... Oh, God, Sarah, when I got here you were wearing my shirt! I've thought of you, and ached for you, and missed you with every breath. All I know of loving, wanting or need, begins and ends with you. I'm so sorry I hurt you and disappointed you. I pray you can forgive me, Sarah. I need you to hold onto. Without you I find this business of living so very lonely and so very hard." She threw herself into his arms and he clasped her to him, sobbing with relief and need. "God, how I've missed you, Sarah," he moaned, sliding his cheek up and down against hers, mingling their tears. I'm sorry ... so sorry .. . please forgive me, I.. . "There's nothing to forgive. It wasn't your fault. It doesn't matter, not any of it. All that matters is that you're safe, and well, and back in my arms. Don't be sorry, just hold me, love me. ↗
You're not paying attention to me, are you?" "Eh? What's that? Sorry, love, I didn't hear you. Wasn't paying attention. I had my eyes on your perfectly formed arse." Catherine fixed him with a glare worthy of a Scottish schoolmaster. "This is serious business Jamie. If you've to pass for a Highlander, you've got to get the kilt just so," "Bah! You're a hoydenish vixen. You just want to ogle my knees." "Nonsense. I'm sure you'll find the ah... freedom and... utility very appealing once you try it on." "You mean you think I'll like the feel of the family jewels waving free?" Blushing, she spread both great kilts on the ground. "One lays down on it like so. Oh stop grinning, Jamie, and do try." She was so earnest and eager in her lesson that he hadn't the heart to tell her he'd worn a kilt a time or two before. ↗
Sheridan bit back a teary smile at his quip, afraid to believe him, afraid to trust him, and unable to stop herself because she loved him. "Look at me," Stephen said, tipping her chin up again, and this time her glorious eyes looked into his. "I have several reasons for asking you to walk into that chapel, where there is a vicar waiting for us, but guilt is not among them. I also have several things to ask of you before you agree to go in there with me." "What sort of things?" "I would like you to give me daughters with your hair and your spirit," he said, beginning to enumerate his reasons and requests. "I would like my sons to have your eyes and your courage. Now, if that's not what you want, then give me any combination you like, and I will humbly thank you for giving me any child we make." Happiness began to spread through Sheridan until it was so intense she ached from it. "I want to change your name," he said with a tender smile, "so there's no doubt who you are ever again, or who you belong to." He slid his hands up and down her arms, looking directly into her eyes. "I want the right to share your bed tonight and every night from this day onward. I want to make you moan in my arms again, and I want to wake up wrapped in yours." He shifted his hands and cradled her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away two tears at the edges of her shimmering eyes. "Last of all, I want to hear you say 'I love you' every day of my life. If you aren't ready to agree to that last request right now, I would be willing to wait until tonight, when I believe you will. In return for all those concessions, I will grant you every wish that is within my power to grant you. ↗
Daddy didn’t say anything for a minute or so, and then he reached up and caught a firefly as it glowed beside him. “See this light?” he asked me when the firefly lit up his hand. “Yes’r.” “That light is bright enough to light up a little speck of the night sky so a man can see it a ways away. That’s what God expects us to do. We’re to be lights in the dark, cold days that are this world. Like fireflies in December.” “Time meandered on without Gemma’s momma and daddy, and it meandered on without Cy fuller and Walt Blevins. . . but those of us left behind viewed life more dearly, felt it more keenly. I’d learned a bit more about God and I’d seen His powerful hands at work. As I was growing, my heart was changing. And the way I figured it, there were lessons learned in those dark days that would help me for years to come.” “As I sat on the porch on that December day . . . I leaned my head against the rail and sighed deeply. The way I figured it just then, my summer may have been full of bad luck, but my life wasn’t. I figured as far as family went, I was one of the luckiest girls alive. ↗
Actually, this is a poem my father once showed me, a long time ago. It has been bastardized many times, in many ways, but this is the original: The Cold Within Six men trapped by happenstance, in bleak and bitter cold Each possessed a stick of wood, or so the story's told. Their dying fire in need of logs, the first man held his back For of the faces round the fire, he noticed one was black. One man looking cross the way, saw one not of his church And could not bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch. The third one sat in tattered clothes, he gave his coat a hitch Why should his log be put to use to warm the idle rich? The rich man just sat back and thought of the wealth he had in store And how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor. The black man's face bespoke revenge as the fire passed from his sight, For all he saw in his stick of wood was a chance to spite the white. And the last man of this forlorn group did naught except for gain, Giving only to those who gave, was how he played the game The logs held tight, in death's still hands, was proof of human sin They didn't die from the cold without, they died from the cold within. ↗
[W]hat reasoning is this, to criticize an innocent majority who seldom make a slip, for a single act? This is not right. Why can't blame be borne individually for individual guilt? ... But for the love of Christ, those of you with some sense, do not blame the innocent without cause. For if, every time you see one man doing wrong, you're going to accuse all men likewise, it won't take long in any one day before you'll be saying that all men ought to be hung. If one man is a rogue, are all men too? No, there's no logic in that; you know what's true. Were a man hung or dismembered for theft, and they proposed to dish up the same treatment to you, you wouldn't consider it legal. You would look quite unamused, and take the liberty of bidding goodbye to all who pronounced that sort of judmgent. Think of others as you would have them think of you ... Let each bear guilt individually as is only right -- and as you'd wish to be upheld in your own case if you were innocent. ↗
You make someone into a object of – not so much of pity as of weakness, sickness, stupidity, inefectiveness, do you see what I mean? You hit them for their stupidity and their inability to respond, and when you’ve hurt them, marked them, they’re even more sick and ugly, aren’t they? And they’re afraid and cringing too. Oh, I know this isn’t very pleasant, but you did ask.” “Go on” he said. “So you’ve got a frightened, stupid, even disabled person, silenced, made ugly, and what can you do with someone like that, someone who’s unworthy of being treated well? You treat them badly because that’s what they deserve. One thinks of poor little kids that no one love because they’re dirty, sovered in snot and shit, and always screaming. So you beat them because they’re hateful, they’re low, they’re sub-human. That’s all they’re good for, being hit, being reduced even further. ↗
Before I could reply, he had picked me up, literally swept me off my feet, and kissed me. And afterwards, when I tried to speak, he silenced me in much the same manner. It was a shock (but not at all distasteful) to be so caught up. Later - when he at last set me down - he handled me more gently. He took of my glasses and told me that he loved me. ↗
#gentle #heart-breaking #jane-austen #jennifer-paynter #love
In suiting the action to the words, however, I perceived that the stars were all wrong. That was my undoing. I had looked up unthinkingly, anticipating the familiar, and, finding it gone, began to cry like a baby. Whereupon Peter stopped the gig and took me in his arms, kissing me so that my face was soon sore both from kissing and crying. ↗
