#meet

What's coming will come and we'll just have to meet it when it does. ↗

— J. K. Rowling

#coming #does #just #meet #will

What is it like when you see me in all these films and then you meet me? Were you intimidated? ↗

— Eva Marie Saint

#intimidated #like #me #meet #see

We are always rushing to an appointment or trying to meet a deadline. ↗

— Menachem Mendel Schneerson

#appointment #deadline #meet #rushing #trying

I was having trouble making ends meet, and my beginnings weren't meeting either. ↗

— Allan Sherman

#either #ends #having #i #making

It's like with a girl: it's more fun to meet and slowly, gradually learn things about each other. A little mystery is always nice and it's interesting to still learn new things about someone you are involved with. ↗

— Larry Wilcox

#always #each #fun #girl #gradually

The opportunity for brotherhood presents itself every time you meet a human being. ↗

— Jane Wyman

#being #brotherhood #every #every time #human

Reading about the response of people in stories, plays, poems, helps us to respond more courageously and openly at our own moments of turning. ↗

— Madeleine L'Engle

#brave #courage #faith #where-faith-meets-art #art

*The best way to describe Mr. Windling would be like this: You are at a meeting. You'd like to be away early. So would everyone else. There really isn't very much to discuss, anyway. And just as everyone can see Any Other Business coming over the horizon and is putting their papers neatly together, a voice says "If I can raise a minor matter, Mr. Chairman..." and with a horrible wooden feeling in your stomach you know, now, that the evening will go on for twice as long with much referring back to the minutes of earlier meetings. The man who has just said that, and is now sitting there with a smug smile of dedication to the committee process, is as near Mr. Windling as makes no difference. And something that distinguishes the Mr. Windlings of the universe is the term "in my humble opinion," which they think adds weight to their statements rather than indicating, in reality, "these are the mean little views of someone with the social grace of duckweed". ↗

— Terry Pratchett

#meetings #business

Here lies the bodies of three brothers... enwrapt in silence and the Arms of Death, Exposed to Worms lies three once charming Boys... 1784 ↗

— Diana Hollingsworth Gessler

#charleston #tomestones #white-meeting-house #death

The first thing I saw was blue. Blue sweater, blue eyes. Blue. Beautifully blue. Then I saw red as I recognized who belonged to the blue. “Fucking Wallbanger,” I hissed, frozen on the spot. His grin slid off as well as he played place-the-face for a moment. “Fucking Pink Nightie Girl,” he finally concluded. He grimaced. We stared, seething as the air literally turned electric between us, snapping and crackling. The four behind us had fallen silent, listening to this little interchange. Then they caught up. “That’s Wallbanger?” Sophia screeched. “Wait a minute, that’s Pink Nightie Girl?” Neil laughed, and Mimi and Ryan snorted. My face flamed bright red as I processed this information, and Simon’s sneer became that damnable smirk I’d seen that night in the hallway—when I’d banged on his door and made him quit giving it to the Giggler and yelled at him. When I’d been wearing… “Pink Nightie Girl. Pink Nightie Girl!” I choked out, beyond pissed. Beyond angry. Well into Furious Town. I stared at him, pouring all of my tension into that one look. All of the sleepless nights and lost Os and cold showers and banana thrusting and merciless wet dreams went into that one look. I wanted to level him with my eyes, make him beg for mercy. But no…Not Simon, Director of the International House Of Orgasms. He Was Still Smirking. ↗

— Alice Clayton

#pink-nightie-girrl #wallbanger #dreams