There are only two reasons why you leave someone you're still in love with - either it's the right thing to do, or it's the only thing to do.

God, I love a man who reads

Hope is something God gives us. Hope is...Hope is a bright light on a dark night. If your hope is guiding you into this shore, then this is where you should drop your anchor.

Hope was other people, no matter what the philosophers said. And this was a time that needed hope.

At moments like this, he was lost to himself, lost in the shadows that hid beneath his heart. Rarely did he let himself go and when he did it was only with her.

I warned you I like to play games.

I have trouble respecting a woman who gives away for free what she could sell for good money. Whores are the only women who know their own worth. I mean that.

...I know how she must have felt. Pressure to be in charge of the world. So much responsibility. The whole world on her...to let go and just give herself to you, to give up to you..." "I'm glad you understand...few women do." "Oh, they do. They're just afraid to admit it... in the dusty dark little corner of every woman's heart... lives the hunger to fetch a powerful man his slippers on her hands and knees.

The love is in the waiting...

Words are the thread in the fabric of the universe.

It’s good to live in the past. It’s sexier here

I will say only this - when le prête is in the right mood, he can make even the devil afraid to turn his back

Fate was a train that didn't stop until it reached its final destination.

Fate. Sounds romantic.”“You must not know anything about mythology, then, Mr. McQueen. In all the old myths, the Fates were the villains.

You have always been my only muse. I cannot paint or sculpt. I have only my words to render your likeness. Sometimes I wish I were both God and Adam so I could tear out my rib and create you from my own flesh. I would say I’d create you from my heart, but I gave that to you when you left me. But that’s a cliché, isn’t it? Sadly, that’s all I have these days. The whole story is a cliché. I desired you. I ate of you. I lost you. That ancient story – older than the Garden, old as the Snake. I would have liked to call this story of ours The Temptation but the word temptation, once the province of pious theologians, has now been co-opted by every third second-rate romance novelist. And although I loved you, my beautiful girl, this is not a romance novel.

Hurt is a bruise on the outside. Harm is a bruise on the inside.

Hurt but do not harm?” Zach asked. “What’s the difference?” “Hurt is a bruise on the outside.” Nora sipped her mineral water delicately. “Harm is a bruise on the inside. If you’re a masochist, pain feels like love to you. Not being hurt is what hurts.

I'm no optimist", she said as she opened the cabinet door. " I'm just a realist who smiles too much.

His biggest gripe with religion was the concept of heaven, of paradise, that we could only get there after we died. He said any philosophy that cared more about life after death than life before death wasn’t anything he could believe in. That’s why he called this farm Paradise. He said Paradise was ours if we wanted it. It was ours to make in the here and now, not something out there in the future that we had to wait for.

...you belong here, and it’s time you realize it. No one put a Scarlet A on your chest. This church is for human beings, not saints and angels.

The kiss surrounded her like air, held her up like water, supported her like the earth and burned her like fire.

You are something different – something some people find strange and fearful – but what you are is as natural as being male or female.

I know you want to fuck me. And I know you wish you didn’t. So how about we compromise and you can sit here and say, ‘No, Nora,’ ‘Don’t, Nora,’ ‘Stop, Nora,’ and I’ll ignore all those protests and slide right down on your cock anyway? And I’ll do it because no and don’t and stop aren’t your safe word. So you can finally get fucked and still sleep like a baby in your big lonely bed tonight feeling all clean and shiny and virginal because, after all, you did say ‘no’ and that awful Nora Sutherlin just wouldn’t listen.

The things she could do with her mouth would blow any man off course.

You call the police if your car gets stolen. You don’t call them for anything that matters.

Stop writing what you know and start writing what you want to know.

Being happy is the best revenge.

You’re looking at this choice like it’s right versus wrong. It’s not right versus wrong. It’s right versus left. You’re at a crossroads. You can go left or right…both are good options. That’s why it’s so hard to decide. If this was a choice between right and wrong, it would be easy.

Only afterward did the guilt set in--the guilt that for a few minutes he let himself stop feeling guilty.

How are you going to get revenge against dead people? Dig ’em up and stake ’em through the heart?”“I asked myself that same question, and I think I know the answer. You destroy what they loved, and you love what they destroyed.

A hostage?""They used the word slave, but isnt' it the same thing? Isn't that what you'd call it if someone stole me and put me in a house and wouldn't let me leave? Isn't it?

Let go with me. Let me comfort you with my body...there's no shame in forgetting for a night even if you know you'll remember in the morning.

I don’t believe in ghosts and neither should you, Kingsley.””Why not? I’ve been in love with a ghost for thirty years.” Kingsley strolled over to the armchair and sat on the ottoman between the other man’s knees. Soren narrowed his eyes at him. “The body’s not even cold yet. Eleanor’s been gone one day and you’re already trying to get me into bed again?” ”Again?” Kingsley laughed and rolled his eyes. “Always. Are you surprised?” Soren shrugged. “Not really.

...I always feel like a better person when I'm on the water.” The air smelled cleaner here. The water seemed purer. She wanted to strip off her clothes and dive off the side of the boat and let the water baptize her a free woman. “The ocean is big”, Ty said. “And we aren't. It's good to be humbled every now and then.” “You ever go through a divorce?” she asked. “Not yet.” “Trust me, I know from humble.

Maybe it was simply human nature to only love a thing after losing it. Maybe they should all lose more things so they can appreciate what they had.

I love the scent of winter. I love the scent of winter enough to suffer the cold for it.

Broken love is the most dangerous love. It will slice you open with every touch.

Faye keeps forgetting what she'll be giving up if she decides to stay here. Access to modern medicine, for starters. In 2015 people can survive cancer, tuberculosis, scarlet fever. Vaccines eradicated polio and measles. Do you really want to live in a world with iron lungs and polio, Faye? Do you?” “I guess I could go back to 2015 and live in a world with meth, heroin, terrorism, HIV and Ebola. Huge improvement, right?

It's been a long time since I felt something like hope. Don't ask me to give it up for Netflix and a Prius.

You’re white. You’re straight. You’re well educated, healthy and beautiful. Every time is for people like you.

S&M is as psychological as it is physical and sexual, Zach. Imagine being as deep inside a woman’s mind as you are inside her body.

You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren’t allowed to be found, unless it’s me doing the finding. And the only way you’re allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn’t belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion.

Don't even think about it." Søren said as Kingsley pulled his coat and gloves off."I'm always thinking about it." Kingsley said. "I brought the lube.""Kingsley, it's not even five in the morning yet.""You beat me this early before.""I was attempting to wake you up.""With your alarm cock?

Keeping me a virgin waiting for him for so long proved he owned me even more than fucking me would have.

But I wasn't done," she pouted, no longer hungry for anything but him. "Yes, you were.""Yes, sir.""Lay down on your back.""Very yes, sir.

Yeah, equal pay for equal work and our bodies ourselves and Gloria Steinem and all that jazz...but in that dusty dark little corner of every woman's heart where we keep our maps of Tierra del Fuego lives the hunger to fetch a powerful man his slippers on her hands and knees.

Busy day ahead. Things to do. People to beat. A Dominatrix's work was never done.

Master Griffin, I would marry my own mother for the excuse to stab my eyes out with her brooches than to see anything under your kilt," the man's voice said with an elegant aplomb. "Where would you like your guest's things, sir?