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Favorite Quotes

Browse 61 quotes about Favorite.

Favorite Quotes

“This is my favorite part of you, your eyelashes when the light hits them like that. This is my favorite part of you, right where your ear meets your jawline. No, this is my favorite part, the little crease under the tip of your nose. Well, I only like the tip of your nose. If you didn’t have such a great nose-tip, it would be over between us.”

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Book:The Hard Tomorrow
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“Romance wasn't in chocolate, it was in the gasp of breath as we came up for air. It was in the way he cradled my face, the way I traced my finger over the crescent-shaped birthmark on his collarbone. It was in the way he muttered how beautiful I was, the way it made my heart soar. It was in the way I wanted to know everything about him - his favorite songs, finally guess his favorite color.”

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Book:The Seven Year Slip
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“به راستی چقدر کارها آسان می شد اگر انسان ها بسیاری از سهل انگاری های خود را به نام دوراندیشی و خیرخواهی توجیه نمی کردند. چه بسا از کودکی ما را از کارهایی که شوق انجامشان را داشتیم منع کردند، تنها به این بهانه که از پس آن کارها بر نمی آییم.”

NovelShort StoryFavoriteرمانFrench Literatureادبیات فرانسهداستان کوتاهعلاقه
Book:La Symphonie pastorale
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“At some point, we have each said through our tears, "I'm suffering for a love that's not worth it." We suffer because we feel we are giving more than we receive. We suffer because we feel we are giving more than we receive. We suffer because our love is going unrecognized. We suffer because we are unable to impose our own rules. But ultimately there is no good reason for our suffering, for in every love lies the seed of our growth.”

LoveSufferingAcceptanceWorthFavoritePaulo CoelhoRiver Piedra
Book:By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept
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“Promise?” “Fuck yeah. I’m just worried you aren’t.” “Well, I am.” “Could fuck with you.” “Maybe, but you’ll be here.” “Could give you bad dreams.” “Maybe, but you’ll be here.” “Could be okay then in a year, two, twelve, it’ll sneak up and haunt you.” Jeez! Sometimes a protective hero hot guy could be stubborn and annoying. It was my turn to be firm. “Okay, maybe, Chace, but you’ll be here.” He went silent. Then he whispered. “Yeah, I’ll be here.” Yeah. He would.”

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Book:Breathe
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“Want to know a secret?" Logan whispered in my ear. I nodded against his chest, not wanting to put any distance between us. My mom would have said we were dancing too close, but to me, it felt perfect. "You're my favorite," he said. His breath tickled my cheek, and I looked up to see his chocolate eyes soaking me in. "Your favorite what?" I asked. "Everything. You're my favorite everything." I reached up and put my arms around his neck, bringing his head close to mine. Then I kissed him. Again. Because I could.”

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Book:Match Me If You Can
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“I wonder what Lena is doing now. I always wonder what Lena is doing. Rachel, too: both my girls, my beautiful, big-eyed girls. But I worry about Rachel less. Rachel was always harder than Lena, somehow. More defiant, more stubborn, less feeling . Even as a girl, she frightened me—fierce and fiery-eyed, with a temper like my father’s once was. But Lena . . . little darling Lena, with her tangle of dark hair and her flushed, chubby cheeks. She used to rescue spiders from the pavement to keep them from getting squashed; quiet, thoughtful Lena, with the sweetest lisp to break your heart. To break my heart: my wild, uncured, erratic, incomprehensible heart. I wonder whether her front teeth still overlap; whether she still confuses the words pretzel and pencil occasionally; whether the wispy brown hair grew straight and long, or began to curl. I wonder whether she believes the lies they told her.”

WonderSweetCuriousFavoriteLessRachelLena Haloway
Book:Annabel
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“Cuando lo sepas quisiera ver tu cara. Por que vas a saberlo aunque no te lo diga ni leas estos poemas. ¿Cambiará algo entonces? Es imposible que no adviertas aún mi turbación: tanto desorden de miradas, tanta avidez registrando el más breve de tus gestos. ¿Y nada modifica tu indolencia? Ah, íntegro varón, que Dios te guarde. Pero voy a aclararte en nombre de esta cólera y a manera de agravio, que si te amo es seguramente por error. has de saber que nunca me gustaron ojos desteñidos ni maneras solemnes, menos aún cabello lacio y bien peinado (y de la solemnidad líbrame Dios, libérame). También has de saber que eres demasiado sencillo para mi soledad, demasiado humano para mi deseo, demasiado lineal para la arquitectura de este laberinto. Pero ya basta: pido una disculpa. Ocurre tal vez que sólo seas un poco distraído. Vendrá entonces de ti el reconocimiento o una sincera frase paternal.”

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Author:Elsa Cross
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“I hear ding her neglectials to smilined, - there is a brownstone in the East Seventies where, during the early years of the war, I had my first New York apartment. It was one room crowded with attic fur-niture, a sofa and fat chairs upholstered in that itchy, particular red velvet that one associates with hot days on a train. The walls were stucco, and a color rather like tobacco-spit. Everywhere, in the bathroom too, there were prints of Roman ruins freckled brown with age. The single window looked out on a fire escape. Even so, my spirits heightened whenever I felt in my pocket the key to this apartment; with all its gloom, it still was a place of my own, the first, and my books were there, and jars of pencils to sharpen, everything I needed, so I felt, to become the writer I wanted to be.”

FavoriteFirst SentenceFavorite BooksBreakfast At Tiffany STruman CapoteHolly GolightlyFirst PageLiterally The Perfect First Page
Book:Breakfast at Tiffany's
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“I had done something wrong. I shouldn't have shown him. But he had known, hadn't he? What had I done? I retreated quickly down the aisle, pushing my way through the double doors into the porch, where I swiped one of my eyes dry. For a long moment I stood in the dim room, looking blankly at the flyers for bake sales and Bible studies on the noticeboard. Then I heard him shout, "Damn you! Why?" I looked through the clear glass of the porch doors to see if he spoke to some barely seen faerie. But to my eyes, there was no one there but Luke and God.”

PowerfulLukeLamentFavoriteMaggie StiefvaterDeeFavorite QuoteDeirdreFavorite PartBooks Of Faerie
Book:Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception
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“A luz dourada - agora quase uma luz crepuscular - ofuscou-a e ela tornou a fechar os olhos, reparando que ocorriam fluxos e refluxos, vermelhos e pretos, à medida que o coração bombeava sangue em suas pálpebras cerradas. Decorridos alguns instantes, notou que os mesmos padrões dardejantes se repetiam indefinidamente. Era quase o mesmo que observar protozoários ao microscópio, protozoários numa lâmina tinta de vermelho. Achou esse padrão que se repetia tanto curioso quanto calmante. Supunha que não era preciso ser gênio, para compreender a atração que essas formas repetitivas exerciam em determinadas circunstâncias. Quando todos os padrões e rotinas normais da vida desmoronaram - e com chocante subitaneidade - era preciso encontrar alguma coisa a que se agarrar, alguma coisa normal e previsível. Se o espiralamento regular do sangue nas camadas finas da pele, que protegiam os olhos dos últimos raios de sol de um dia de outubro, era a única opção que havia, então a pessoa a aceitava e dizia muitíssimo obrigada. Porque se não conseguisse encontrar alguma coisa a que se agarrar, alguma coisa que fizesse algum sentido, os elementos desconhecidos da nova ordem mundial poderiam levá-la à loucura.”

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Book:Gerald's Game
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