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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“I prepared to get out of bed, tossing the covers aside, the sheets dank-smelling, gray from my body. I wondered how long it had been since I'd changed them. And then I wondered how often you were supposed to change them. These were the kinds of things you didn't learn. I changed bedclothes after sex, now, finally, and that I only learned a few years ago from a movie on TV: Glenn Close, some thriller, and she'd just had sex and is changing the sheets and I can't remember the rest, because all I was thinking was: Oh, I guess people change sheets after they have sex. It made sense, but I'd never thought of it. I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way.”

“I present the thing we're going to do as a simple starting point. They all know it's an art piece and that it's all going to be recorded. And I have never had an experience where one of these men tried to take advantage of the situation. If they were guilty of anything it was of being lonely. It was never that they were violent or dangerous.”

“I present to you ube chocolate chip cookies two ways: one with semisweet chips and the other with white chocolate chips. Tell me which you prefer. I'm honestly a little torn." They took turns sampling my offering, giving each cookie their undivided attention. Elena said, "If you're going to serve the cookies as is, I'd say the semisweet gets my vote. It plays well with the earthiness of the ube, but is still a chocolate chip cookie. The white chocolate is a bit too sweet for me." Adeena, whose capacity for sugar was probably some kind of Guinness World Record, said, "I disagree about the white chocolate being too sweet. It's so good! But it lacks oomph, you know? If you're playing with the classics, why not add macadamia nuts? Then it could be your take on white chocolate macadamia cookies. Which are my favorite cookies, FYI," she said to Elena.”

“I press the blue glass triangle to my lips and smile for Matt, my best-friend-that’s-a-boy, my last goodbye to the brokenhearted promise I carried like my journal for so long. Somewhere below the black frothy ocean, a banished mermaid reads my letters and weeps endlessly for a love she’ll never know – not for a single moment. Before the trip, Frankie and I set out to have the Absolute Best Summer Ever, the summer of twenty boys. We’ll never agree on the final count – whether the boys from Caroline’s should be included in the tally, whether the milk-shake man was too old to be considered a “boy,” whether her tattooed rock star interlude was anything other than a rebound. But in the end, there were only two boys who really mattered. Matt and Sam. When I close my eyes, I see Sam lying next to me on the blanket that first night we watched the stars – the night he made me look at everything in a different way; the breeze on my skin and the music and the ocean at night. But I also see Matt; his marzipan frosting kiss. All the books he read to me. His postcard fairy tales of California, finally coming to life in Zanzibar Bay. When I kissed Sam, I was so scared of erasing Matt. But now I know that I could never erase him. He’ll always be part of me – just in a different way. Like Sam, making smoothies on the beach two thousand miles away. Like Frankie, my voodoo magic butterfly finding her way back home in the dark. Like the stars, fading with the halo of the vanishing moon. Like the ocean, falling and whispering against the shore. Nothing ever really goes away – it just changes into something else. Something beautiful.”

“I pressed forward, pushing my body along hers, and wrapped my arms around her waist. Some of the intensity of my anger dissipated and drained away. After a very long, steamy kiss, I broke away, breathing hard. Rimmel's head collapsed against the wall and she stared up at me with unfocused hazel eyes. The flecks of color in the center were green today. "Romeo," she gasped. I pulled back enough so I could lift her arm and grasp her fingers. She made a sound of protest when I pushed back the material of the shirt once more and stared down at the dark blotches marring her skin. "How were you going to explain this to me?" I rumbled. "I wasn't going to lie, it that's what you're implying," she snapped. "Ah, baby." I groaned and lifted her wrist to press my lips to the marks. "I'm being a jerk." "You said it…" She agreed, letting the rest of her sentence fall away. I smiled against her skin and then kissed her inner wrist once more.”

“I pressed inside her, inch by inch, gazing into her face. Her beauty. Mesmerizing. I was awed that I was inside her . . . or nearly. When I came to the barrier of her virginity, I met her eyes, full of trust and wonder, and whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, sweet Lydia. Mo Chroí." And then I pressed inside, tearing her. She cried out in pain. I wanted to comfort her, but it felt so blessedly good that I could only bring my forehead to hers, holding myself still by sheer force of will, gritting my teeth to stop myself from thrusting, while she became used to my invasion. Why did it have to be that something that felt so wonderful to me hurt her?”

“I pressed my lips together, fighting the sting in my eyes. I wasn’t a bad person. I didn’t lie; I didn’t cheat—I didn’t hurt people on purpose. But I was…a lot. I was loud, emotional, and undoubtedly a bit of a drama queen when I’d had a glass or three of wine, like now. Mr. Captain over there probably thought I was a total bitch after that little display on the phone with Amanda. I didn’t blame him. I wore my heart on my sleeve, especially when I was pissed off. It was beyond my control. I’d never learned to play it cool or keep my mouth shut.”

“I pressed PLAY and started up Chiron's favorite--the All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin. Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian. The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out.”

“I presume that few who have paid any attention to the history of the Mathematical Analysis, will doubt that it has been developed in a certain order, or that that order has been, to a great extent, necessary -- being determined, either by steps of logical deduction, or by the successive introduction of new ideas and conceptions, when the time for their evolution had arrived.”