Best 95 quotes in «relatable quotes» category

As a filmmaker, you are constantly having the discussion with your team about whether something is "relatable".

Short term satisfaction will never lead to something timeless.

Life is short ... so why waste it doing something dumb?

Please make me either relatable or terrible.

The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.

As much as we strive towards the light, we still want to be embraced by the shadow.

Why do men fight for their servitude as stubbornly as though it were their salvation?

You're quite tall.' Just what a girl wants to be reminded of.

Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.

Books, she thought, grew of themselves. She never had time to read them. Alas! even the books that had been given her, and inscribed by the hand of the poet himself: 'For her whose wishes must be obeyed' ... 'The happier Helen of our day' ... disgraceful to say, she had never read them.

But at home, that same day he'd jumped into the fountain, he'd gotten so anxious, pacing around the living room listening to his parents try to calm him, that he suddenly just lost it completely and slapped his face. He immediately started crying, confused and guilty, looking up at his parents like he had no idea how it happened. And, really, that's the way it always was with the hitting. It would happen so fast, his body shaking to release the tension that built up from all the thoughts swirling through his mind and all the air he was having trouble breathing and all the loud beating of his own heart ringing in his ears. It had to get out and that was the path it chose. Slap. Instant relief.

But that's the way life goes most of the time: the thing you least count on comes along and ruins everything else you got planned.

But there's a sense of camaraderie in that, in knowing that you're on the same team of players all looking to play a different game.

By approaching your interactions through the lens of likability, you can expect to be happier, more comfortable, and more successful in establishing meaningful relationships.

At this point, caffeine wasn't for pleasure, it was sheer survival.

...everyone holding a check pad is an aspiring something-else.

Every time I blink, all I can see are my flaws. My body in a fun-house mirror. Hips too wide. Thighs too big. And a head too small for the rest of me.

Buy it today, read it tonight, awaken with a new awareness.

Explore your own innermost thoughts to create content that will evoke deeply relatable emotions and passion in others.

Feeling like she really was just seven or eight, Claire sat down on the floor, books all around her, and she opened the last one she’d picked up. Even though it was dark, and even though her eyes couldn’t see the words, she knew them. Knew the little prince’s story as well as her own. She closed her eyes. She leaned her head forward against the book. And she sobbed.

Fiction described reality better than non-fiction.

Don't ruin a relationship, by giving it a name. A potential lover. A lover of the present and An ace of the past. These months, years and ages, might just forget the memory And remember the terms you used to file them in a draft.

He felt to be two tea bags away from making some progress on the entire situation, and that was a precise calculation. Any caffeine drinker excels in this area of mathematics.

Eye contact creates wars, creates fights, but eye contact also creates arousal. I felt the weird, pointless tingles, and I read his face and his smile. I tried to look inside him, see what he was feeling, while at the same time guarding myself.

He inquired with the confidence of anyone trying free samples at a grocery store and putting on an Oscar-worthy performance of a person that was going to come back and buy it all later.

He grieved too, Klara said, for the loss of a certain idea of himself.

He threw an arm over his head to shield his eyes. “The world is a cruel place. Do not force me to face it right now.

Her heart felt like it had been thrown around like a child on a twenty-foot seesaw--exhilarating highs followed by crashing lows, only to repeat with new joys and terrifying fears. It left her light-headed, off-balance, and a tiny bit nauseated.

...from sweaty-palmed anxiety blooms vivid imagination.

He turned on hearing a noise, and perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and quitting the hut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form hardly appeared capable.

He would be provided for even if he made no discernible contribution to the world - and right now he had no desiire to contribute anything to the world but his bodily waste.

How am I supposed to make big decisions when I still have to sing the alphabet to myself to alphabetize stuff?

I am always disappointed with someone who loves me - how perfect can he be if he can't see through me?

Human experience is not nest and orderly, ready to be coded into predetermined categories. Real life is messy

I am what I am, and there's much about me that won't be changed with any amount of wishing or wanting. I'm sorry for that. I'd trade a great deal to share an afternoon in the hay with you, dust in the air and sweat on our skins and neither of us caring. But I'm afraid the experience would drive me mad. I am a creature of sterile environments. It's too late for me to change.

He was no stranger to middle fingers anyways; in Texas he had worked for a graphic design company, and the art world is overflowing with such fingers. At times almost exclusively.

I am going to shrink and shrink until I am a dry fall leaf, complete with a translucent spine and brittle veins, blowing away in a stiff wind, up, up, up into a crisp blue sky.

I can't help it. I'm a Slytherin." And I'm the worst kind of Slytherin. I'm the kind who's so stupidly in love with a Gryffindor, she can't even function. I'm the Draco from some shitty Drarry fic that the author abandoned after four chapters.

I didn’t want to fall in love. Looking at you gave me chills and kissing you made my knees weak. You made flowers grow and fill the space in my lungs which made it impossible for me to breathe. I’m trying to drench the memories and the blood that once pumped through my veins has been replaced with alcohol. My teeth has shattered from all the whiskey bottles and every morning I awake to throw up the poison I swallowed the night before as a hopeless attempt to forget the taste of your lips. I keep hearing the sound of your voice calling out my name as if it’s something I’m not allowed to forget.

I feel like if I hold things close, never share, then I never give anyone the opportunity to judge me.

I felt like laundry in a washing machine, when all I wanted was to be put on and become her favourite shirt.

I don't think we are out of the woods, I don't think we ever are

If you haven't caused a scene in a psych unit, it's just because you haven't been inside long enough.

If I open up, it gets me, Dad. It gets me, and I don't know if I'm strong enough to stand it.

I don't get why we call it a crush when it feels more like a curse.

I hate tiny parties’, Jane also admitted, ‘they force one into constant exertion’. She had always been too introverted to make friends easily, and this grew more pronounced as she grew older. Her manner, Frank admitted, was ‘rather reserved to strangers so as to have been by some accused of haughtiness’. Jane described one heavy evening of socialising, which began at seven, as a ‘Labour’ from which the home team of female Austens were eventually ‘delivered’ at ‘past eleven’.

Graceful has never been a word you immediately pinned to my physical prowess; a flailing, tumbling human version of Jenga was a tad closer to accuracy.

I have this thing where if someone likes me, I feel like I tricked them into it. Like I can't trust it. I'll fuck it up somehow, like with Hudson.

I hate Hera.

I love Nico