Amber > Amber's Quotes

“Family gatherings were... um, let's see, what's the word I'm looking for?... Hell. They were hell. Being the middle child, I served and referee and confidante, hostess and martyr. Did I feel we should get together once in a while? Sure. Did I want my family all together? Theoretically, yes. In reality, dear God, no.”
― Kristan Higgins, All I Ever Wanted

“When you really thought about it crying was a rather bizarre thing for any creature to be capable of. What purpose did it serve other than revealing too much?”
― Kitty Thomas, The Auction

“We've been wed more than a month. Since it appears you mean to stay, I might as well give you leave to call me by my christian name. It is preferable, at any rate, to 'clodpole.”
― Loretta Chase, Lord of Scoundrels

“The Blushing Pansy," his cousin read aloud, in a tone of abject horror. "Tea shop and confectionery."
Bram swore. This was going to be ugly.”
― Tessa Dare, A Night to Surrender

“There's something about her," Caire said in a low voice. "She cares for everyone about her, yet neglects herself. I want to be the one who cares for her.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Wicked Intentions

“Mom had considered Cath a bit of a hoochie, but the truth was that Cath always opened her heart when she opened her legs.”
― Ruthie Knox, About Last Night

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

“Do you think I'm pretty?
I think you're beautiful
Beautiful?
You are so beautiful, it hurts sometimes.”
― Richelle Mead, Vampire Academy

“There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion.”
― Edgar Allan Poe

“He rips his mouth from mine as he growls, "Mine. Only mine. Only. Ever. Mine," still slamming into me, pounding me against the wall.”
― Mia Sheridan, Leo

“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.”
― Joyce Kilmer, Trees & Other Poems