Best 65 quotes in «favorite quotes» category

If I’m not around I hope you’ll remember me and together we will hold on to our favorite song.

If I were a flower, humming bird would be my favourite bee And If I were blind, the light of darkness I'd love to see

If you can devote yourself to your favorite occupation without getting money for it, but in order to discover your potential, then you will find out who you are

I had done something wrong. I shouldn't have shown him. But he had known, hadn't he? What had I done? I retreated quickly down the aisle, pushing my way through the double doors into the porch, where I swiped one of my eyes dry. For a long moment I stood in the dim room, looking blankly at the flyers for bake sales and Bible studies on the noticeboard. Then I heard him shout, "Damn you! Why?" I looked through the clear glass of the porch doors to see if he spoke to some barely seen faerie. But to my eyes, there was no one there but Luke and God.

If you've got time to fantasize about a beautiful death, why not live beautifully until the end?

If you were to ask Jarod Kintz‬‬‬ what his personal favourite joke was, he'd say the one with the island. The big one next to New Zealand. -Stefan D and Jarod Kintz

I grab at Smitty and he at me, and, for one horrible, deperately embarrassing second we fly into each others arms like Shaggy and Scooby Don't.

I smell it again, his scent. The calming aroma. The one that’s become my new favorite. I take a deeper breath.

In the future, each of us must have the courage to follow our gift or to be engaged in a favorite occupation, even if it does not bring you any income at the moment

I love you Bonnie. So much that I hurt with it. And I hate it, and I love it, and I want it to go away, and i want it to stay forever....

It seems only yesterday I used to believe there was nothing under my skin but light. If you cut me I could shine. But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life, I skin my knees. I bleed.

It was something in the way she moved. Something in the way she breathed. Something in the way she merely 'was' . And he didn’t think he was ever going to get over it.

It's the person that calls you up because they're eating at ‘our favorite spot,’ and it made them think of you and miss being there with you. That's a friend, to me.

It was our first date and I asked what his favorite movie is. He asked if I’d judge him, but instead of judging him I just loved him.

It was the heaviest thing I'd ever felt, as if I were being crushed under a thousand trucks. I wanted to black out from the pain, but I breathed deeply. I can do this.

I was warned about you, you know." And with that half-smile that wrecked me, Noah said, "But you're here anyway.

I wonder what Lena is doing now. I always wonder what Lena is doing. Rachel, too: both my girls, my beautiful, big-eyed girls. But I worry about Rachel less. Rachel was always harder than Lena, somehow. More defiant, more stubborn, less feeling . Even as a girl, she frightened me—fierce and fiery-eyed, with a temper like my father’s once was. But Lena . . . little darling Lena, with her tangle of dark hair and her flushed, chubby cheeks. She used to rescue spiders from the pavement to keep them from getting squashed; quiet, thoughtful Lena, with the sweetest lisp to break your heart. To break my heart: my wild, uncured, erratic, incomprehensible heart. I wonder whether her front teeth still overlap; whether she still confuses the words pretzel and pencil occasionally; whether the wispy brown hair grew straight and long, or began to curl. I wonder whether she believes the lies they told her.

Like a child who saves their favourite food on the plate for last, I try to save all thoughts of you for the end of the day so I can dream with the taste of you on my tongue.

Oh Jake, my love for you doesn’t stop just because there’s a rough patch in the road, or I don’t get what I want.

Oh... Blip. Yeah, I see." He sounds distracted, awed. "Your child," I whisper. "Our child." He counters.

My favorite sound in the whole world is your giggle, Anastasia.

.. no matter how we grieve over our bad luck, nothing will happen. We have to smile and believe that tomorrow will be better than today.

Pain of the past never goes away, you just find a way to deal with it. And in the future....... all the promise it holds.... that's what keeps you moving forward, and out of the darkness.

People are like songs to me. About 60 seconds in, I'll know whether or not to add them to my 'favorites.

So, judges, what was your favorite dish?" The producer stepped back so the cameras could pan over the long table. Tarquin answered. "A crisp almond tart." Sophia's heart began to pound. "Smooth lemony custard. Light as air." She clenched the edge of her worktable. "Only one person chose the boysenberries as an ingredient today. They were ripe, juicy, bursting with flavor. But somewhat difficult to wrestle with in terms of tartness. This contestant made a truly inspired syrup, infused with basil... and lemon thyme, I think." Jonathan shrugged. "I can't wait to find out how this syrup was created." Sophia started to sway. The blogger smiled. "I love lemon. It's bright. It's sunny. But I don't have a big sweet tooth. This dish was not too sweet. It was lovely." "And best of all," Tarquin interrupted, "a little surprise under the tart. Hidden. Using the organic bittersweet chocolate we provided. Well played." "And the flowers!" Jenny sighed. "This plate captures the very essence of summer. Sprinkled with flower petals.

Sencillamente no puedes extender esas cosas para siempre.En algún momento, te quitas el curita y te duele,luego se te pasa y te sientes aliviado.

She was his favorite sin. She was not a habit for him anymore, she was an obsession.

The morning I drove by and saw you alone, staring at the house. I told myself to keep on driving, but something told me to stop. And when I'd seen how lost and confused you were, something told me I was meant to be there.... I was meant to be there so I could help you find your way

Sometimes funny is all you've got.

Special Logan Kiss... Yeah, but you didn't know that I'd recited how i felt for you right then, in that moment, in my mins. The words flowed silently, so easily. There's no mistaking them. When I gave you those kisses, I was telling myself and you.... He peck my nose "I..." He kisses my forehead "..LOVE.." My heart swells as He presses his lips to my chin, then he whispers " YOU...

Teachers' favorite color ink, splashed and dripped down his face a grisly reminder of mistakes bruising his life.

The point is, Jenna, no one is normal or perfect like that house you see across the street. Everyone suffers from their own struggles, whether they’re big or small.

There are millions of reasons to smile and ALLAH Ta'ala is my favorite.

They all thought they were special, but only I was. I was first and none of them could take that from me. I was first and best and last and always.

The road was so dimly lighted. There we;re no highway signs to guide. But they made up their minds, If all roads were blind, They wouldn't give up 'til they died....

Personally, I think, so what? Money's just a thing and things change. That's what I've found. One minute something's really there, right next to you, and you can cuddle up to it. The next it just melts away, like a Hershey's kiss.

This supreme instance of Troy's goodness fell upon Gabriel's ears like the thirteenth stroke of a crazy clock.

This book is for those that found love when everyone thought they were too young to know what it was. We should all be lucky enough to find our forever so soon.

Time plays no favorites and will pass whether you act or not. Take control of your life. Dare to dream and take risks...Compete! If you aren't willing to work for you goals, don't expect others to! Believe in yourself.

We all have different dreams and different worlds we want to dominate. Your favorite food is someone else's phobia. Your dream job is someone else's worst nightmare. Your perfect world is unique to you.

We choose our favourite author as we do our friend, from a conformity of humour and disposition. Mirth or passion, sentiment or reflection; whichever of these most predominates in our temper, it gives us a peculiar sympathy with the writer who resembles us.

At some point, we have each said through our tears, "I'm suffering for a love that's not worth it." We suffer because we feel we are giving more than we receive. We suffer because we feel we are giving more than we receive. We suffer because our love is going unrecognized. We suffer because we are unable to impose our own rules. But ultimately there is no good reason for our suffering, for in every love lies the seed of our growth.

What is the best thing you've ever eaten?" Poulet rôti. I was sure that my mother was going to say the poulet rôti from L'Ami Louise in Paris because she'd sat next to Jacques Chirac there and he'd said that since she was a chef, perhaps she would cook something for him. And so she did. She went right back into the kitchen and whipped up something fabulous. After that, they used goose as well as duck fat when frying their potatoes, because it had been her way. I mouthed Poulet rôti into the pillow. But my mother was quiet. She could have made conversation, little noises while she was thinking. But she didn't. Lou didn't care. "Masgouf," she said. "From an Iraqi restaurant that's closed now." I sat up. I opened my mouth. I almost yelled, What? But she was still talking. "I went there with her dad years and years ago." I imagined her jerking her thumb in the direction of my room. "The company was like watching paint dry, but the food was fantastic. Out of this world." "And?" Lou said. "And," my mother said, "I went back a couple of years ago, just to see, and it was closed up. Totally empty and sad. One silver tray sat in the middle of the place, I remember. Broke my heart to pieces." "Masgouf?" Lou said. I was already out of bed, sockless and by the bookshelf, ripping through the index of The Joy of Cooking, then Cook Everything, then, finally, Recipes from All Over. I found it. "'Traditional Iraqi fish dish, grilled with tamarind and/or lemon, salt, and pepper,'" I whispered, shocked. "It was heaven," my mother said. "Literally heaven. I've tried to replicate it, I can't tell you how many times." For a second, I saw spots. I would have bet my life on it- on the poulet rôti. "You know how they say that life imitates art?" my mother said. "Well, life imitated masgouf. The fish was so good, so tender, and we ate it with our fingers. For a little while, I convinced myself that life could be so simple." Which meant happiness. Masgouf was my mother's happiness.

When I first met you, I thought we were made for each other even though we seemed like opposites in some ways and we fought. But now..." "What?" "Now I feel like we weren't made for each other. We're making each other—into the people we should become. Do you know what I mean?

When you adapt to someone, they become a part of your routine, a part of you. And when they’re taken away, you feel a bit lost. No matter how much you think it won’t affect your life, it does.

You have not realized yet that both of you are mine, have you?

You're beautiful, Jenna. i'm a man and I'm afraid to admit when I'm lucky enough to look at someone as beautiful as you.

All I know is, being away from you......makes it hard to breathe. I miss you so much

At a normal high school, having class outside on a gorgeous May day is usually pretty awesome. It means sitting in the sunshine, maybe reading some poetry, letting the breeze blow through your hair...At Hecate Hall, a.k.a. Juvie for Monsters, it meant I was getting thrown in the pond.

Why had my life suddenly become a Nancy Drew mystery from hell?