#fe

Go far from home and yo will have a long way back. ↗

— Suzanne Woods Fisher

#life-experience #experience

Your mother didn't raise you to be a child forever. ↗

— Tadahiko Nagao

#life

Have you ever been going somewhere with a crowd and you're certain it's the wrong road and you tell them, but they won't listen, so you just have to plod along in what you know is the wrong direction till somebody more important gets the same idea? ↗

— James Hilton

#life #random

Reluctantly, and with much hesitation, did she then begin what might perhaps, at the end of half an hour, be termed, by the courtesy of her hearers, an explanation; ↗

— Jane Austen

#life

Home, Ms. Lane?” His deep voice was gently amused. “I have to call it something,” I said morosely. “They say home is where the heart is. I think mine’s satin-lined and six feet under. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#bloodfever #mac #mac

And you can tell Darroc that Ms. Lane is mine. If he wants her, he can bloody well come and get her ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#dreamfever #fiona #mac #mac

Brod's life was a slow realization that the world was not for her, and that for whatever reason, she would never be happy and honest at the same time. She felt as if she were brimming, always producing and hoarding more love inside of her. But there was no release. Table, ivory, elephant charm, rainbow, onion, hairdo, mollusk, Shabbos, violence, cuticle, melodrama, ditch, honey, doily...None of it moved her. She addressed her world honestly, searching for something deserving of the volumes of love she knew she had within her, but to each she would have to say, I don't love you. Bark-brown fence post: I don't love you. Poem too long: I don't love you. Lunch in a bowl: I don't love you. Physics, the idea of you, the laws of you: I don't love you. Nothing felt like anything more than what it actually was. Everything was just a thing, mired completely in its thingness. If we were to open a random page in her journal- which she must have kept and kept with her at all times, not fearing that it would be lost, or discovered and read, but that she would one day stumble upon that thing which was finally worth writing about and remembering, only to find that she had no place to write it- we would find some rendering of the following sentiment: I am not in love. ↗

— Jonathan Safran Foer

#life

He raised a brow. 'Petunia, Ms. Lane?' I scowled. "Ass, Barrons. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#darkfever #mac #mac

Not able to stop it, I felt a small smile tilt up the corners of my mouth. "Noted. Althought I must protest that you keep forcing unwanted kisses on me." "It's the only way to get one. Unwanted indeed." He raised a knowing eyebrow at me. Arrogant Knave. I shook my head, feeling sad and happy all at the same time. "Why do you persist, Wolfe?" His grin was slow and wicked as he stood back from me, allowing my body and mind to breathe again. "Strategy." "Strategy?" He cocked his eyebrow. "At first I thought imposed isolation would make you miss me-" "Why you arro-" "-But then I realised that it's being near me you can't resist. And there are only so many kisses you'll take before you give in to me completely, Rogan. ↗

— Samantha Young

#wolfe #strategy

Time is money, but money isn't time ↗

— Rosen Topuzov

#happiness #learning #life #success #wisdom