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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #roma
Oz: I spoke to Giles. He said I'll be okay. I just have to lock myself up around the full moon. Only he used more words than that. And a globe. Willow: I'm sorry about how all this ended up. With me shooting you and all. Oz: It's okay. I'm, I'm sorry I almost ate you. Willow: It's okay. I kind of thought you would have told me. Oz: I didn't know what to say. I mean, it's not everyday you find out you're a werewolf. That's fairly freaksome. It may take a couple days getting used to. Willow: Yeah. It's a complication. Oz: So...maybe it'd be best if I just... sorta... Willw: What? Oz: Well, you know, like, stayed out of your way for awhile. Willow: I don't know. I'm kind of okay with you being *in* my way. Oz: You mean, you'd still... Willow: Well, I like you. You're nice and you're funny. And you don't smoke. Yeah okay, werewolf, but that's not all the time. I mean, three days out of the month I'm not much fun to be around either. ↗
This boy," he said, indicating the paintings with one sweep of his arms, "was romantic. He thought that it was beauty that bound everything together. And for him it was true. Life had been beautiful for him. He was very young. He knew very little of life. He saw beauty but he did not feel any true passion. How could he? He did not know. He had not really encountered the force of beauty's opposite." "Are you more cynical now, then?" she asked him. "Cynical," he frowned, "No, not that. I know that there is an ugly side of life-and not just human life. I know that everything is not simply beautiful. I am not a romantic as this boy was. But I am not a cynic either. There is something enduring in all of life, Anne, something tough. Something. Something terribly weak yet incredibly powerful... ↗
For a split second, I wondered if he were some type of sexy sorcerer, who was able to remove my clothing by the force of his will alone. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the buttons of his shirt, willing them to pop off. It didn’t work. Then again, it was pretty hard to focus while he was touching me, so maybe under different circumstances, I too could be a sexy sorcerer. Watch out world. ↗
Sitting down on the stairs, Cheyenne watched Behr through the slats in the railing. She liked what she saw. Covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, muscles swollen from what was clearly a grueling workout, Behr’s toned physique was a serious distraction from her worries, making her content to just sit and watch. Each thump of his fist into the bag resonated in her bones. Each kick of his leg thundered in her ears. Every move seemed to be in time with the harsh sounds of the music pumping through the room, until he was a frenzy of movement. It was frighteningly beautiful. Standing, Cheyenne called out to him. “Behr? Are you hungry?” She was feeling a little peckish herself, and she needed something to keep her hands busy. Between a combination of brutal punches, knee jabs and the music, Behr didn’t hear a word she said. So she decided to go to him. Winding her way through equipment and stepping over the discarded sweaty T-shirt, Cheyenne approached him. Waiting for the right moment to interrupt, she tapped him on the shoulder during a brief pause. Big mistake. Huge. ↗
Believe me, young lady, when I tell you that there is no place for you in his world of ghosts and nightmares — no place for your fresh beauty or your unmarred dreams, no place for your wonderful hope. He can bring you nothing, because he has lost everything. Don’t try to keep him, to tie him down, because if you succeed, if he weakens, he will hate you for it. Let him be. He is not unhappy; he is resigned. He has surrendered and acquired at a high cost a deep understanding of life. ↗
He shifted his attention back to me and leaned in closer. “I told you to behave. I don’t want to have to arrest you ever again.” “Um . . . okay.” I felt him slide something under my hand. He leaned in even closer, his mouth by my ear, and whispered, “Although I wouldn’t mind handcuffing you.” Oh. My. God. ↗
Confidence don't mean jack shit in the real world, sis," she once said. I feel myself finding the courage to trust those words more and more with every twist of the knife. Coincidentally, last Tuesday afternoon I was involuntarily exposed to the punch line of an old wise tale that goes something like: "There's beauty that can be found in everything." But why can't the insensitive cunt who said that ever find the courage to look in the mirror? Because poopycock, one might say. ↗
Some people have at least one person, that *special* somebody, that sees them as the cutest, most handsome, and most beautiful person in the world; inside and out. There's nothing or no one that can stop that person from seeing that person that way. All that special somebody does is think about the one they desire and ways to make them happy and smile. They feind and feed off that person's touch; even the touch of their eyes on their skin. It's like the whole world around them fades and there's nothing else they see. Nothing else they even WANT to see. They want that person to like them, love them, and desire and long for them the way they do. They see this person and once again believe that "happily ever afters" can exist. They convulse with the creativity for romance and new ideas and ways to put a smile on their desired one's face. The want and need to share their deepest thoughts and feelings oozing from every pore on their skin. The essence of their presence leaves the thickest aura of passion in the air around them. If they had them, nothing else in this world would matter. To have anything even *similar* to this with someone is to have everything you'll ever need in a lover or some you find intimately significant. When or IF I ever find this, the words will never be associated with me again ↗
