Shirley: "Christopher, would you like to tell Olivia what "F.I.N.E" means?" Christopher: "Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional" ... Olivia: "But what if you really do feel fine?" Shirley: "Christopher, care to answer that?" Christopher: "Um, ...
To the soul, memory is more important than planning, art more compelling than reason, and love more fulfilling than understanding.
It is in the nature of things to be drawn to the very experiences that will spoil our innocence, transform our lives, and give us necessary complexity and depth.
The purpose of life is to stay alive. Watch any animal in nature--all it tries to do is stay alive. It doesn't care about beliefs or philosophy. Whenever any animal's behavior puts it out of touch with the realities of its existence, it becomes exinc...
Rhysand yelled my name again - yelled it as though he cared. I blacked out, but she brought me back, ensuring that I felt everythingm ensuring that I screamed every time a bone broke.
I found him carefully studying me, his lips in a thin line. “Has anyone ever taken care of you?” he asked quietly. “No.” I’d long since stopped feeling sorry for myself about it.
I don't care what you think. You're not my brother," Clary said. "You're a murderer." "I really don't see how those things cancel each other out," said Sebastian.
God will judge us, Mr. Harris, by--by what we did to relieve the suffering of our fellow human beings. I don't think God cares what doctrine we embrace.
History, rather than following a predictable path from the past to the present, is like a meander: a twisting and turning stream shaped over time by a combination of obvious and imperceptible forces.
We cannot be too careful about the words we use; we start out using them and they end up using us.
But I’ve learned that sometimes, somehow, no matter how much time we spend apart from the ones we care most about, our love for them never fades, for time apart only makes our love grow stronger.
Drive your life with care. Look nowhere else than up to your long cherished destination. You can only get there with focus. Blind your eyes from anything else!
If I ever have to get that close to the Prince of Greed again, it’ll be too fuckin’ soon. And I ain’t ever doin’ that Star-Trek teleportation crap again, yah hear? I feel dirty .
But it’d be nice to have someone who cared about me, someone I could talk to about anything, someone who’d tell me I was really special.
I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, I can't do anything to change events anyway.
He was with me, beside me, inside me, and I did not care that my children were asleep, alone at home, or that the neighbors might come to know. He burned the fear out of me until all was left was desire.
It was around then that the phone rang. It was my friend Cee Cee, wanting to know if I cared to join her and Adam McTavish at the Coffee Clutch to drink iced tea and talk bad about everyone we know.
Now it is easy to perceive that the moral part of love is a factitious sentiment, engendered by society, and cried up by the women with great care and address in order to establish their empire, and secure command to that sex which ought to obey.
He said he wouldn’t stay, as he didn’t care much for the smell of the paint, and fell over the scraper as he went out. Must get the scraper removed, or else I shall get into a scrape. I don’t often make jokes.
That, dillop brain, is what getting close to the Darke does. It makes you think only of yourself. It takes you away from people you care about. And now you don't have anyone to talk to and it serves you right.
The only reason I haven't shot you yet is because he's the one who should get to do it," I say. "Stay away from him or I'll decide I no longer care.
