Best 49 quotes of Tiffany Reisz on MyQuotes

A hostage?" "They used the word slave, but isnt' it the same thing? Isn't that what you'd call it if someone stole me and put me in a house and wouldn't let me leave? Isn't it?

At moments like this, he was lost to himself, lost in the shadows that hid beneath his heart. Rarely did he let himself go and when he did it was only with her.

Being happy is the best revenge.

Busy day ahead. Things to do. People to beat. A Dominatrix's work was never done.

But I wasn't done," she pouted, no longer hungry for anything but him. "Yes, you were." "Yes, sir." "Lay down on your back." "Very yes, sir.

Don't even think about it." Søren said as Kingsley pulled his coat and gloves off. "I'm always thinking about it." Kingsley said. "I brought the lube." "Kingsley, it's not even five in the morning yet." "You beat me this early before." "I was attempting to wake you up." "With your alarm cock?

Ever had Fighting Cock?” “You talking about the bourbon or some sex position I haven’t tried yet?” Paris asked.

Fate. Sounds romantic.” “You must not know anything about mythology, then, Mr. McQueen. In all the old myths, the Fates were the villains.

Fate was a train that didn't stop until it reached its final destination.

Faye keeps forgetting what she'll be giving up if she decides to stay here. Access to modern medicine, for starters. In 2015 people can survive cancer, tuberculosis, scarlet fever. Vaccines eradicated polio and measles. Do you really want to live in a world with iron lungs and polio, Faye? Do you?” “I guess I could go back to 2015 and live in a world with meth, heroin, terrorism, HIV and Ebola. Huge improvement, right?

Fine. I’ll leave the hammering to you." "Good." "That wasn’t a sex joke." "It should have been.

His biggest gripe with religion was the concept of heaven, of paradise, that we could only get there after we died. He said any philosophy that cared more about life after death than life before death wasn’t anything he could believe in. That’s why he called this farm Paradise. He said Paradise was ours if we wanted it. It was ours to make in the here and now, not something out there in the future that we had to wait for.

His name is Spanks for Nothing. It’s destiny. We belong together.” -Nora

Hope is something God gives us. Hope is...Hope is a bright light on a dark night. If your hope is guiding you into this shore, then this is where you should drop your anchor.

How are you feeling?" "Coffee.

Hurt but do not harm?” Zach asked. “What’s the difference?” “Hurt is a bruise on the outside.” Nora sipped her mineral water delicately. “Harm is a bruise on the inside. If you’re a masochist, pain feels like love to you. Not being hurt is what hurts.

Hurt is a bruise on the outside. Harm is a bruise on the inside.

I don’t believe in ghosts and neither should you, Kingsley.” ”Why not? I’ve been in love with a ghost for thirty years.” Kingsley strolled over to the armchair and sat on the ottoman between the other man’s knees. Soren narrowed his eyes at him. “The body’s not even cold yet. Eleanor’s been gone one day and you’re already trying to get me into bed again?” ”Again?” Kingsley laughed and rolled his eyes. “Always. Are you surprised?” Soren shrugged. “Not really.

I have trouble respecting a woman who gives away for free what she could sell for good money. Whores are the only women who know their own worth. I mean that.

...I know how she must have felt. Pressure to be in charge of the world. So much responsibility. The whole world on her...to let go and just give herself to you, to give up to you..." "I'm glad you understand...few women do." "Oh, they do. They're just afraid to admit it... in the dusty dark little corner of every woman's heart... lives the hunger to fetch a powerful man his slippers on her hands and knees.

I love the scent of winter. I love the scent of winter enough to suffer the cold for it.

I’m currently imagining a few creative ways of causing you extraordinary amounts of pain.” Kingsley raised his chin. Mere inches separated their faces. “Stop flirting. You know we don’t have time for that.

I'm no optimist", she said as she opened the cabinet door. " I'm just a realist who smiles too much.

I'm sad at you.

I think a gentleman respects women and doesn’t pretend to know better than his lady what is good or bad for her. I think a gentleman is brave enough to eschew the silly rules society tries to enforce on women. I think a gentleman tells the world to mind its own business and concerns himself only with what he and the lady in his life want to do together in private.

It's been a long time since I felt something like hope. Don't ask me to give it up for Netflix and a Prius.

I warned you I like to play games.

I will say only this - when le prête is in the right mood, he can make even the devil afraid to turn his back

Love versus love. King, you’re comparing infinities. There is no ‘more.’ That’s not how love works. If it’s love, it’s infinite. You can’t count it.

Maybe it was simply human nature to only love a thing after losing it. Maybe they should all lose more things so they can appreciate what they had.

My name is Søren.” Kingsley nodded and prepared words of his own. “Je t’aime,” he replied in the language God spoke. I love you.

My story. I inherited it.” “I think I’d rather inherit money than a story.” “I have that, too, not entirely by my choice.” “You don’t want to be rich?” “God favors the poor. But don’t tell rich people that. It’ll hurt their little feelings.

Once someone loves you that much, loves you more than you deserve, you can’t go back to being loved the normal way.

S&M is as psychological as it is physical and sexual, Zach. Imagine being as deep inside a woman’s mind as you are inside her body.

The kiss surrounded her like air, held her up like water, supported her like the earth and burned her like fire.

The love is in the waiting...

There’s nothing you could do to me now that I wouldn’t want.” -Kingsley

The things she could do with her mouth would blow any man off course.

Wesley looked down at her and Nora could barely meet his brown eyes, which bored into her with the fiery love of a guardian angel. God probably had eyes like Wesley's.....anyone who looked into them wanted to immediately apologize for any and all sins ever committed.

Why does it always have to hurt so much?” Kingsley asked. “What?” “Life.” Nora smiled. “God’s a sadist. That’s why.” “You think so?” “Oh, I know so,” Nora said. “I’m a writer. I do what God does in miniature every time I write a book. I create worlds and people out of nothing—ex nihilo—and I torture the fuck out of them for four hundred pages.” “Because you’re a sadist?” “Partly that. Plus...if I didn’t torture them it would be a real fucking short book. And trust me on this, King, there is no money in short stories.” Kingsley laughed and buried his head into her lap again, seeking her comfort and safety and the shelter of someone stronger. “You’ve solved the oldest theological conundrum of all time,” Kingsley said. “Why does God allow suffering? Because there’s no money in short stories.” “I’ll tell you one more little secret about being a god. Even though I torture them for four hundred pages, it hurts me to do it.” “They aren’t real. Why does it hurt?” “I created them. They’re mine. I love them. God loves us, too, even when He hurts us. Especially when He hurts us, I imagine.

Yeah, equal pay for equal work and our bodies ourselves and Gloria Steinem and all that jazz...but in that dusty dark little corner of every woman's heart where we keep our maps of Tierra del Fuego lives the hunger to fetch a powerful man his slippers on her hands and knees.

You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren’t allowed to be found, unless it’s me doing the finding. And the only way you’re allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn’t belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion.

You are something different – something some people find strange and fearful – but what you are is as natural as being male or female.

...you belong here, and it’s time you realize it. No one put a Scarlet A on your chest. This church is for human beings, not saints and angels.

You call the police if your car gets stolen. You don’t call them for anything that matters.

You don't love him. You only love that he loves you.

You have always been my only muse. I cannot paint or sculpt. I have only my words to render your likeness. Sometimes I wish I were both God and Adam so I could tear out my rib and create you from my own flesh. I would say I’d create you from my heart, but I gave that to you when you left me. But that’s a cliché, isn’t it? Sadly, that’s all I have these days. The whole story is a cliché. I desired you. I ate of you. I lost you. That ancient story – older than the Garden, old as the Snake. I would have liked to call this story of ours The Temptation but the word temptation, once the province of pious theologians, has now been co-opted by every third second-rate romance novelist. And although I loved you, my beautiful girl, this is not a romance novel.

You have the chance right now to accept your son. I’m not talking about ‘tolerating’ him. Tolerance is a slap in the face. You tolerate your noisy neighbors. You love your son. You love him, you accept him, you cheer him on, and you don’t judge him for one second.

You’re looking at this choice like it’s right versus wrong. It’s not right versus wrong. It’s right versus left. You’re at a crossroads. You can go left or right…both are good options. That’s why it’s so hard to decide. If this was a choice between right and wrong, it would be easy.