We always hurt the ones we love, darling. You’ll have to tell her you’re sorry. And mean it and give her time. - Grace Trevelyan-Grey to Christian Grey
Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high.
Of course. Silly me. Such a sad, exciting score, which no doubt you can play? So many accomplishments, Mr. Grey.” “And the greatest one is you, Miss Steele.
Who knows why we do it? And when we've done it, nobody wants it. Still we keep doing it. That's what makes a writer a writer.
I felt as if I were riding a pendulum. Just as I would swing into the abyss of hopelessness, the pendulum would swing back with some small goodness.
He threw his burning cigarette onto our clean living room floor and ground it into the wood with his boot. We were about to become cigarettes.
We are merely ghost flowers under the shade of the moon Many shades of secret sorrows blanket our eyes We spend our lives and our souls Searching- Longing- Waiting- For a little light to shine and heal our broken halo’s
Derek’s. Lucas’. Ben’s. It’s beyond me what I must do to make them realize that I’m neither object nor possession. I don’t belong to any of them.
Sometimes, that’s the way it is with people. You think you can tell what they are based on the patterns that you see, but when you take a look inside, they’re nothing like you expect them to be.
LaBoeuf: I wouldn't count too much on bein' able to shade somebody I didn't know, fella. Rooster Cogburn: [laughs] I ain't never seen nobody from Texas I couldn't shade.
She had blue eyes, but his were BLUE. Not just one shade of blue, either, but a swirl of shades that reminded her of the stretch of ocean between Bella Vita Isle and Nassau where the turquoise waters fell into a deep, fathomless blue.
It's because I'm pregnant, Christian." He snorts, and his mouth twists into an ironic smile. "If I knew getting you knocked up was going to make you eat, I might have done it earlier.
You've brushed your teeth," He says, staring at me. "I used your toothbrush." His lips quirk up in a half smile. "Oh Anastasia Steele, what am I going to do with you?
Books have a life. They breathe. When you write a book, it grows and changes. You learn from your characters after you create them. They come from you and you become them.
I do not make love, Miss Bennet," he had told her."I bonk. I have it off. I get my end way, I rodger, I boff.
That’s what life holds for you. You make plans, carefully plots whole road-map; but you never know when a vehicle comes at you full throttle from the next bend and knocks you down.
I know that no matter how lonely I get, I'll never be truly alone again. Our loved ones don't leave us. They just move out of sight for a while, and wait...in the shades.
Just because everyone CAN publish a book these days, doesn't mean everyone SHOULD. The world doesn't need 1000 knock-offs of 50 Shades of Grey. I'm not so sure the world even needed ONE 50 Shades of Grey.
Film has far more color shades. It's called 'bit depth' in digital terms. And most bit depth in digital is about twelve, but film bit depth can be twenty to thirty. And so you just have more shades of yellow and red and oranges and everything.
She especially liked my bedside lamp, which had a five-sided porcelain shade. Unlit, the shade seemed like bumpy ivory. Lit, each panel came to life with the image of a bird: a blue jay, a cardinal, wrens, an oriole, and a dove. Kathleen turned it of...
You wanted hearts and flowers,” he murmurs. I blink at him, not quite believing what I’m seeing. “You have my heart.” And he waves toward the room. “And here are the flowers,” I whisper, completing his sentence. “Christian, it’s lovel...
