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All I Quotes

“I couldn’t,” he finally whispered. “You were the one who taught me to live, to take chances. For a while, I convinced myself that we were too different, and that it was better to let you go. But now, I’ve come to the realization that my life is probably going to be very short. And I want to spend it doing something that matters. With someone that matters. I don’t want to regret that I gave up without a fight.”

“I couldn't help but suspect something he'd seen or encountered had changed his view of what had happened between them. It had somehow set him free. And he'd let it fly, that gorgeous blackbird of a love he'd been keeping in a cage. What was it like for him, every day standing outside in the wind and rain to stare at the ocean, yearning for some sign of her, never giving up hope? At The Peak perhaps she'd finally come into view, a ship coming neither toward him nor away, only riding that perfect line between heaven and earth, long enough for him to know that she had loved him, that what they had was real, before slipping out of sight, probably forever.”

“I couldn’t help but wonder if the God who had been answering my prayers, cleaning my slate, and erasing the evidence against me, even that which was entwined in my very blood, also made all of this. If He made it all, He must also be bigger than all of it. And yet, somehow, it seemed that this great Being was willing to be intimately involved in my life.”

“I couldn't help concluding that disabled people with adequate resources and support are, as a group, particularly equipped to weather the adjustment to parenthood. Physical weakness and change do not scare us as they do others. We have spent years decoupling joy from physical or mental function.”

“I couldn't help staring at him, slurping up every atom and utterance and whistle in his voice. He'd become more relaxed in the kitchen, relaxed yet assertive. He bit his thumb in thought and the contrast between his big, strong hands and this adorable, boyish habit made me woozy. "Well... what are we doing with this dish?" "Let me think," I said, letting my exhalations calm me down yet again. "I think the dish needs something more to ground it. Something earthy." "That's the lovage," he said, now looking in the fridge, his jean-clad butt poking out. "No, the lovage is the wild card," I said, as steadily as I could, even though I was intensely distracted and slightly astonished that a man's butt excited me so much. "That flavor remains suspended in your mouth," I continued. "You need something that goes deeper." As I said it, he slowly approached me. I lifted my hand to make way for him but he caught it in midair. "I need something?" he asked, tightening his grip with a little smile and a little threat. He walked one inch closer and that inch set my heart fluttering again, the air between us compressed and tickling. "Yes. Um, I mean..." Still holding my hand, he grabbed a bowl of toasted almonds. "Like this?" He dropped one in my mouth with his free hand, his fingers barely touching my lips. I didn't feel like eating it. I felt like either running back to my apartment and hiding under the covers, or maybe just pretending I was someone else and kissing him right then and there. But I ate the almond and resigned myself to imagining his lips on mine. His hand was still around my wrist... his finger on my lips... "Or, maybe this." He gripped me tighter and, with his other hand, picked up a frond of dehydrated kale, as big and light as a feather. He touched the end of my lips, but when I opened my mouth, he pulled it away. "Careful," he said. "It crumbles." He placed it on my lips once more and I took a bite, little flakes of kale falling like green fairy dust.”

“I couldn't help wondering where porpoises had learned this game of running on the bows of ships. Porpoises have been swimming in the oceans for seven to ten million years, but they've had human ships to play with for only the last few thousand. Yet nearly all porpoises, in every ocean, catch rides for fun from passing ships; and they were doing it on the bows of Greek triremes and prehistoric Tahitian canoes, as soon as those seacraft appeared. What did they do for fun before ships were invented? Ken Norris made a field observation one day that suggests the answer. He saw a humpback whale hurrying along the coast of the island of Hawaii, unavoidably making a wave in front of itself; playing in that bow wave was a flock of bottlenose porpoises. The whale didn't seem to be enjoying it much: Ken said it looked like a horse being bothered by flies around its head; however, there was nothing much the whale could do about it, and the porpoises were having a fun time.”

“I couldn't. I couldn't do it. It wasn't like hunting; it wasn't for survival or defence. It was cold-blooded murder- the murder of them, of my very soul. But for Prythian- for Tamlin, for all of them here, for Alis and her boys... I wished I knew the name of one of our forgotten gods so that I might beg them to intercede, wished I knew any prayers at all for guidance, for absolution. But I did not know those prayers, or the names of our forgotten gods- only the names of those who would remain enslaved if I did not act. I silently recited those names, even as the horror of what knelt before me began to swallow me whole. For Prythian, for Tamlin, for their world and my own... These deaths would not be wasted- even if it would damn me forever.”

“I couldn't keep a fish alive," she said. "I kill plants just by looking at them." "I suspect I would have the same problem," Mark said, eyeing the fish. "It is too bad - I was going to name it Magnus, because it has sparkly scales." At that, Cristina giggled. Magnus Bane was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and he had a penchant for glitter. "I suppose I had better let him go free," Mark said. Before anyone could say anything, he made his way to the railing of the pier and emptied the bag, fish and all, into the sea. "Does anyone want to tell him that goldfish are freshwater fish and can't survive in the ocean?" said Julian quietly. "Not really," said Cristina. "Did he just kill Magnus?" Emma asked, but before Julian could answer, Mark whirled around.”

“I couldn't let him have you, Jessalyn," he said, his throat raw. "I know that I am worthless, a degenerate Trelawny buried in debts. But you're all I've ever wanted out of this life, the only thing I will ever need. Without you I have no reason to live." He held his hands up to her, spreading them in supplication, and they shook as if he had an ague. "I have no pride left. You have it all.”

“I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. I wanted him as more than my friend. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been long since Brayan. Tristen was the boy next door with dirty dance moves. He helped me with math and watched stupid shows with me when I was sad. He walked with me, challenged me. Liked me. Every time I tried to push him away, I knew it was morally right, but it felt wrong.”