Best 7 quotes of Nina G. Jones on MyQuotes

Fear is the glue that holds us together.

My dad used to warn me that the devil doesn't have horns and a pitchfork, he'll appear as the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. He'll make you laugh. He'll make you feel good. You'll do things you never thought you would, but he'll tell you it's okay. And before you know it, you've sold your soul to him.

Shy, all those things you listed don’t make a person. They don’t. I mean it. You’re beautiful, both inside and outside, but please don’t look at me to validate that. You have to know it for yourself. -Taylor Holden, Strapped.

Shy, I can’t be fixed. We won’t ride off into the sunset. There will be no happy ending.

The click of the seat belt securing into the buckle is the only sound to break the awkward silence. I feel his warm breath on my neck as he reaches and I take a deep nervous inhale. His scent fills my nose, it is clean and warm, just like in the coffee shop. The smell of his skin is delicious. I try to stop these thoughts, but they are invading my brain in a way that has never happened to me before. Not even with...Rick. I try push him back out of my mind at this moment because I feel a sense of guilt. Rick and I are frozen. That’s the only way I can describe us. He is faithful, he is steady, he is nice, but he is not like this man in front of me: new, mysterious, and unpredictable. Rick and I are in a state of comfort, but like much of my life, I am becoming more and more discontent with comfort.

When we arrive on our floor we head to our rooms, politely bidding each other goodnight. Just as I am about to enter mine, I remember I have his jacket. I can use this to have just one more moment with him tonight. I knock on his door, his lips slightly open when he sees me on the other side. “You forgot your jacket.” It is still on my shoulders. I turn around to offer it up to him. “Thank you Shy,” As he says this he takes both of his hands, grabbing each shoulder of the jacket and oh so slowly pulls it off of me, grazing my bare arms and back as he pulls it off. I close my eyes taking in his touch. Each caress of his fingertips feels like one thousand little sparks. How can just the faintest touch from this man set me off like this? Please kiss me. Kiss my neck. I won’t say no. I hold my position for a second more than I should, but it feels so tortuously long. There is nothing, not another touch, not a kiss. I turn to face him again and bid him goodnight. His face looks sad, almost guilty. Every word, every touch, every action tonight was an implication. This keeps us safe from one another. It keeps me safe from him. “Goodnight Shy,” he says as if dismissing me from his presence. “Goodnight Taylor.

You don’t stare the devil in the eyes and come out without some of his sin. You can’t beat the devil without becoming like him.