Best 39 quotes of Penny Reid on MyQuotes

All hypotheses are worth exploring! Even the crazy ones.

almost every depiction you find in books or movies make people living with paranoid schizophrenia the villains. Can you imagine if books and movies did the same thing to people with cancer?

And his eyes. Don't get me started on his eyes. Just . . . don't. I can't even with this guy. So. Gorgeous. They held an invitation as well, a twinkly, heated, mesmerizing invitation. And I wanted to RSVP so hard.

And I silently simmered in the chaos of my mind and heart.

And why did men insist on buying the largest size? Didn’t they understand the concept of sizes? Did they think buying a magnum sized condom was going to fool me into thinking their Toyota Camery was an aircraft carrier?

And you are more than the mistakes of your youth. You are more than the label you’ve been assigned by people who might love you, but don’t really know who you are anymore.

Be beautiful for yourself, Janie. And only if you want to. If a man is worthy of you, he’ll see more beauty in who you are than in what you look like.

Because knowledge is only a cage if you dwell in isolation.

Bethany Winston once told me that time was like a closet. No matter what you do or how good your intentions are, you will always fill your time and closets with things that don't matter. "That's why funerals are so important", she'd said. "They force you to clean out closets and reevaluate how you spend your time (...).

Burdens are weightless, worlds change, and love endures when both people are contributing their maximum.

But still, big fucking kaboom. The earth shook, the angels sang, the heavens opened. St. Pete tossed me a high-five. He might’ve winked—dirty old bird—and I might’ve also forgotten my name.

Dan was shorter than me, especially as I was wearing sky blue silk stilettos. He appeared to be my age or a few years older,stocky, and thick necked with swirling tattoos just visible beneath the blue collar of his uniform.Dan gave me a plain once over as he walked me to an elevator and placed his palm against a glass screen. The screen retracted to reveal keypad. Dan then punched in a series of numbers and he said- “You’re very big.”I gave him a cursory smile, “Yes. I ate all my vegetables as a child.

Each marriage is a living thing, just as complex as the two individuals within it.

Fire burns blue and hot. Its fair light blinds me not. Smell of smoke is satisfying, tastes nourishing to my tongue. I think fire ageless, never old, and yet no longer young. Morning coals are cool: daylight leaves me blind. I love the fire most because of what it leaves behind.

Furthermore, I preferred to only have cravings I could satisfy without the requirement or assistance of another person. This was, after all, the definition of self-reliance.

He wanted me. I wanted him. This was a frightening and thrilling prospect, because when I pushed him, he pushed back.

Him—waiting for me to behave like a normal human being. Me—waiting for him to evaporate and this nightmare to disappear.

I didn’t like how my body seemed to be intent on sabotaging my brain, especially since my brain was so good at sabotaging itself.

I had reclusive tendencies for a reason, I couldn’t be trusted to live in the world and make decisions on my own.

I'm after a woman who likes sex but doesn't put the lust part above the intelligence part. She could have a hundred partners for all I care, just as long as they've been vetted for psychopathic tendencies. I have four rules. Number one: don't invite a person into your body if you wouldn't invite her into your kitchen. Number two: the act needs to take place in a clean environment. Number three: precautions need to be taken to protect from disease and pregnancy. And Number four: don't ration the passion, i.e. put you best fuck forward.

Insincerity was taxing once you’d breathed the refreshing air of artless candor.

Tell her. Confess. If I told her now, she might not give me cake. Daniel, confess. But... cake. No cake until you confess. Shit.

I was dazed. I was amazed and dazed and frazzled and bedazzled. And bewitched. This was the worst. And the best.

I was determined to stay off the see-saw of crazy

My internal temper tantrum tirade continued: But attracting and holding the interest of someone like Quinn Sullivan will have to go into my box of make believe with the eventual remake of Final Fantasy 7 with Playstation 3 graphics or finding an original, pristine version of Detective Comics No. 27- Batman's debut.

My type has a romantic soul. He'll make my heart and my brain fight over who gets him first. He does what's right, even when it's not easy - actually, especially when it's not easy. He knows the value of discipline, education, honor, and restraint. And his strength of character is the only thing that out weighs the strength of his love for me.

My upstairs brain and my downstairs brain engaged in a game of risk and it was downstairs’ turn to roll the dice.

She was a damn good kisser, maybe the best I'd ever had the immense pleasure of kissing. It helped that her lips were like pillows and she tasted sweet. Not like strawberries or peaches. Sunshine and sweet—her own brand of it. Plus there was desperation in the kiss, an understated but raw passion I couldn't recall ever experiencing before. Or maybe that had been me. Maybe I'd been the passionate, desperate one. No matter. Either way, she'd stolen my breath, robbed me of thought and sense. She was a master thief, and I loved her for it.

Shh." I reared back an inch. "Shh?" "Yeah, I'm thinking.

Since I spent much of my childhood being left behind and ignored, one might think that, as an adult, moments of perceived abandonment would feel old hat. The truth is, as an adult, I am always waiting to be left behind. I’m always ready to be discarded and, therefore, I spend a significant amount of time preparing for this eventuality. I lower my expectations, I don’t seek out meaningful relationships, and I don’t engage in any sort of real intimacy, physical or otherwise. Engage is the key word here. Except, when I engage, when it happens, when I’m left behind it doesn’t feel old hat. It feels like it did the first time and it takes me by surprise. So, I don’t let it happen.

The color of her eyes was mossy gold. It make me want to write crap poetry and hire a skywriter." Quinn Sullivan

The protector inside me was frowning while the predator soaked up her discomfort with glee.

This is just your penis having the feels for my vagina. Your penis is making prank calls! and every single time your penis makes a prank call, my vagina answers the phone. And then you hang up. Or your penis claims wrong number or misdial or no hablo Ingles. It's infuriating, and it's called genital call me maybe.

Usually, but not always, a story is told mostly for the benefit of the teller. The story (...) demonstrates how the teller has lived a life full of adventure, of meaning; that they're comical, self-deprecating, and brave; that they're ultimately a person worth knowing. It's as though folks need to remind themselves of their own worth, and they do this by telling and retelling their favourite eleven or twelve stories, the anecdotes that fundamentally define who they are.

What did God say at Nietzsche's funeral?' 'What?' 'Nietzsche is dead.

What do you want to be?” “A mother,” I said simply, because it was true. That’s what I wanted first and foremost. “And a really excellent wife and partner. And homemaker. I want to have a family to take care of, to love and fuss over and think about. That’s what I want. I know it’s not progressive, or flashy, and I know people don’t place much importance on that stuff anymore, just like people don’t put much importance on humility and kindness, forgiveness and compassion. But those things are important to me. I know people will look down their noses at me for being just a mom, but I’m used to being marginalized for what I do and what I look like. And I think being a great mother is the most difficult and most important job in the world. So people can just take their judgmental crap and—

What's his full name again?" Seamus was rubbing his chin. Dan hesitated, glancing at me and then away. "Bark Wahlberg," he grumbled.

When you cried, I learned what helplessness tastes like. Because all I could do was swallow.

Without thinking, I asked, "Are you afraid of temptation?" He shook his head. "God, no. Just being with you, just seeing you. Fuck." He mostly swallowed the expletive, his hips rolling in a way that made me think the movement was instinctual, then added on a rush, "You breathing tempts me.