Quotes About Acceptance

Nobody called her Moggy except for Mother, either. Nobody ever called me Kittycat except my family, and people who were looking for a fight.

When you are a certain age or when you have lost certain things and people, Aimee's crippling grief will make a terrible poisoned dark sense.

A huge, lonely melancholy welled up inside me as the sheer enormousness of what I was contemplating. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, exactly, so I let it inside.

There's an eagle feather in my pocket and resolution like a fist clenching my chest and on some deep level I'm dead happy I don't know what comes next.

As if I took my little girl in my arms and held her tight and she's not a little girl anymore, and I still can't save her, can I? Because you can't. I can't save her from my mistakes. Any more than I could save Nell. But at least I can hold Leah's hand.

When we love, it is hard to forgive the beloved for not being the person we imagined them.

Benedick's flesh, and his colony were replete with recollections that he would have preferred to erase, undo, or lose forever.

Pussycat. Isn't it time thou didst admit where thou dost belong?

Cricket-Fisher-was starting to prefer her new name. Especially the way Nouel said it, with a little twinkle, as if it were a joke shared.

It was almost a clea hate, for a moment, untainted by her own failures.

I've got a head so full of dead people I suspect whoever I started off as should be counted as one of them.

Kit bit his cheek on tired laughter, all his irritation draining away. Perhaps I've just been used too much to care any more, he thought.

You know what you've lost, sometimes, and there's no point in talking about it. You turn around and look at the ruins, and then you either sink down by the roadside and cry or you pick up your pack and lump on.

We get along with carnivorous plants and talking screwdrivers. I don't know what should be so hard about getting along with you.

The world had moved on without them. She would not play the game of memory.

I'm a Conservative, Connie." "That's okay," she answered. "You can switch.

I don't think you'll get much argument that my personality could use amending.

Perceval had been slow in forgiving herself for her lost loved ones and enemies, and slower in forgiving the new Angel so forged in the exigencies of her birth.

Two decians later, we didn't have any answers, but we'd kind of gotten used to having the not-a-parasite around. And we were still calling it the not-a-parasite, even though it had proven pretty useful.

Whatever he was before, he's but a candle-flicker now. A beautiful one, polished and glossy, all the more perfect for the terrible, disfiguring scar that puckers and knots the right side of his face when he smiles. It doesn't seem to bother the young man's admirers; if anything, the wolf thinks some of them find it erotic. The boy shies away like a startled horse, an animal he will never see when women and men wonderingly brush the raw-lipped pink line.

It's way too late to start pretending you like me." "I do like you, you enormous pain in the ass.

There are times when you just can't stand to be loved.

The idea made me sad. But it also felt like closure. And I badly needed some of that.

Unworthy? I think not, Wolfling. Pure as the will of the pack, thou art.