Best 20 quotes in «tom quotes» category

I think that, to me it’s a story about forgiveness. Some people say to me that they would never forgive Tom for what he did. Other people say ‘well he was grief stricken’. But I still think that the way he acted was awful. There was a trust thing that happened there and especially coming from a character like Tara Finke, he’s not really a player and she’s not really a confidant person on so many different levels. But I think for me there was just, ultimately I know what he did was wrong but there was such a respect between them as people and I like the fact that he had to actually work instead of trying. Like I think in the past he had found it so easy to charm people but at this particular case because he didn’t have her there in front of him, he actually had to work at wooing her back. And I think he succeeds. And there are so many times when people around him don’t think he is going to succeed at that, there’s no way that she will forgive him and I like the fact that she does, and it’s not because she’s a pushover it’s because Tom has really worked at it that he has opened himself to her in the same that that she kind of opened herself to him. I suppose it’s about trust between people in the end.

I understand we'll be attending your friend Miss Worthington's Christmas ball. Perhaps I'll find a suitable-- which is to say wealthy-- wife among the ladies attending." And perhaps they will run screaming for the convent.

O, because I have had only that kind of benevolence which consists in lying on a sofa, and cursing the church and clergy for not being martyrs and confessors. One can see, you know, very easily, how others ought to be martyrs. -Augustine St. Clare

Loki'd!

I want to take care of it. I need to do something to make up for…” He breathed out shakily. His hands clenched at his sides and he stared at the ground. “I’m sorry for making all of this happen. He was right. I should have stayed away from you. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.” Sarah grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look into her eyes. “No! Forget everything that man ever said. You did nothing wrong. Not ever. He made this happen.” She grasped his hands and held them. “I don’t know how many more ways I can say it. I’m happy you came here. You’ve…” she hesitated over the melodramatic words, but they were the truth and he needed to hear them, “brought my heart to life again.” She rubbed her hands over his bandaged ones then lifted them to her mouth and kissed the backs of them. She gestured to the smolder ruin. “We’ll take care of that later. Right now I have something more important for you to do. I want you to come inside with me. I need you to hold me.” His eyes were glistening as he looked into hers. He nodded then took her hand and followed her into the house.

[On playing a bad guy in Harry Potter's film]: I think it's more fun, there are a lot of goodies in the film and not a lot of baddies, so I like to be in the baddie group.

Of course, in a novel, people’s hearts break, and they die, and that is the end of it; and in a story this is very convenient. But in real life we do not die when all that makes life bright dies to us. There is a most busy and important round of eating, drinking, dressing, walking, visiting, buying, selling, talking, reading, and all that makes up what is commonly called living, yet to be gone through…

She thought that they could live together for twenty years and he might never consider asking her about marriage. Tom didn’t follow the usual patterns. If marriage was what she wanted, then she would have to be the one to propose to him.

sometimes he feels a pull towards Francesca. She was the reason he came into the group. It was her misery that united them and somehow her personality that kept them together when everyone split. She’s the one that writes the letter to kept the world informed. She listens to the news every hour to make sure everyone’s safe. So tonight he walks away even though she’s moved forward to give him a hug. Because he wants to kiss her, and knows she’ll hate him for it and that he’ll hate himself. He knows it’s for all the wrong reasons and that he’ll end up thinking of Tara Finke and her Brazilian peacekeeper and will Trombal and how he doesn’t do romance, but it eats the space between him and Francesca every time he’s in the room with her.

Tom" softly over the coach-roof. "Hallo", Joe." "Did you hear the message?" "I did, Joe." "What did you make of it, Tom?" "Nothing at all, Joe." "That's a coincidence, too" the guard mused, "for I made the same of it myself.

We had the whole 'when you assume you make an ass out of you and me' speech in school.

What turns an honest, good-looking guy like you into a theif?" Scott couldn't help but smirk. "I blame chocolate.

Sarah drew a deep breath and released it slowly, waiting for her voice to steady before she spoke. “It’s a ve ry good story. Are those the things you want for yourself? ” He nodded and began folding the advertisement. “But I can’t have them,” he said matter-of-factly. “Why not?” He shrugged as if it was obvious and she remembered that earlier he had declared, “I’m not normal.” She had to admit it was hard to picture this strange man living a normal family life in an average community. His differences were stamped all over his body as well as hidden deep inside him.

She snuggled against Tom, grateful to have him back and ready to face any obstacles to their happiness. “You won’t leave again, ” she demanded, “No matter how difficult things might get for us.” “Never again,” he promised.

The little group before her finally moved on and Sarah took its place, standing before Tom like he was a painting in a museum. And then his vacant eyes dropped from that point somewhere above her head and he looked at her—looked into her eyes and registered her presence. His eyes widened and his mouth opened wordlessly. For the space of six heartbeats they stared at one another and then Sarah simply said, “Come home.” She held her hand out to him. He gazed at it for a moment. “Come with me,” she said softly. Slowly he rose from his chair and walked toward her. He slipped his hand into hers and his palm was warm and callused. She stepped back and pulled him along with her. Suddenly his arms went around her, hugging her tight, his head dropped to her shoulder and his mouth pressed into her hair as he whispered, “I can’t believe you’re here.” Her hands slipped up the smooth, supple skin of his back to hook over his shoulders. She buried her face against his chest, breathing him in, forgetting time and place and circumstance and just holding him.

When I saw "Ulysses" on Georgie's bedside table and Tom Finch's name written on it in a scrawl so like my old man's, I felt that I wanted to read it as a preparation for what's about to happen to us all. I understand where the brawny part of my father and I come from - Bill. I'm not saying bill's not smart, but my old man is a pretty intelligent guy and that kind of intellect came from tome Finch. I want to turn the pages he turned. But honestly I'm actually finding it hard. I think that the whole world has lied and nobody has read the book completely. It's a conspiracy up there with Roswell.

Finally, he slipped his arms around her too. Her eyes closed in relief. “I was thinking,” His voice rumbled against her ear. “That I’ve brought you so much trouble after everything you’ve done for me. Maybe it’s not too late to fix it. If I leave…” “No!” She pulled away and looked up into his face. It was swollen red around one eye and his nose. Brown flecks of paint marred the blue swirls. “That’s not going to solve anything.” He stroked the side of her face, his thumb lingering across her lips. “If I leave, it will be better.” “Not for me.” Tears welled at the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away. He gathered her close again, kissing the top of her head and rubbing his hand on her back. “Don’t cry. ” When Sarah thought about it later, she would realize that he had never added, “I’ll stay.

Eu reinvento a realidade a minha imagem e tom.

Confound it, it's foolish, Tom

Her tone changed from shocked to curious. “How was it? Was it… different?” Sarah bit her lip, ashamed to be gossiping but feeling the strong urge to tell. “Yes,” she confided. “He’s nothing like John. Nothing like him at all.” “Really? What was different? Did he…?” Grace waved a hand as though erasing a chalkboard. “Oh, forget it. I shouldn’t be asking this. But,” again her voice lowered, “is he tattooed everywhere?” Sarah knew it was wrong to talk about him like this, but her inner schoolgirl took over and she nodded, eager to share details. “He’s beautiful … like a stained glass window. And he’s really good with his … mouth.” She raised an eyebrow, giving Grace a significant look. Her friend gasped and giggled. “But isn’t it weird? Touching him?” “Skin is skin, Grace,” Sarah chided. “The tattoos are only on the surface, you know. He’s a man.” A sexy, vulnerable, intense, attractive, responsible, sweet, gentle and loving man.