Quotes About Acceptance

You make everything all right for me, Anita. You make me feel like a human being instead of a monster.' 'And you love all of me, Micah, every last hard-boiled, ruthless bit of me. You make it okay that sometimes I am the monster.

Sometimes it's not the light in a person that you fall in love with, but the dark. Sometimes it's not the optimist you need, but another pessimist to walk beside you and know, absolutely know, that the sound in the dark is a monster, and it really is as bad as you think.

Don't ask," Micah said. "They've been best friends for years. Sometimes you just nod and let them have their guy moment." Dr. Cross frowned harder. "I don't understand." "I'm the wife," Micah said, "she's the husband, and he's the husband's best friend. Does that explain it?

It doesn't matter how much the rest of us love you; if you hate yourself, the self-loathing destroys everything.

I thought about that as he held me in the curve of his body. I thought about him enjoying the killing. I didn't like the thought much, but if he was a sociopathic killer, then he was my sociopathic killer.

There comes a point where you just love someone. Not because they're good, or bad, or anything really. You just love them. It doesn't mean you'll be together forever. It doesn't mean you won't hurt each other. It just means you love them. Sometimes in spite of who they are, and sometimes because of who they are. And you know that they love you, sometimes because of who you are, and sometimes in spite of it.

Sometimes you can't save people, and sometimes they don't want to be saved.

True love means you love the real person, not an ideal that you have in your head and superimpose over them.

Don't make light of one of your better qualities. You love your people like a mother is supposed to love her children. You want what's best for them, even if that makes you uncomfortable, even if you don't like their choices.

Ethan gave me an admiring look that wasn't about sex, but about that guy moment when they realize you are not just another pretty face, but maybe, just maybe you can be cute, petite, and one of the guys all at the same time.

I'd like to save all my friends, but if someone is bent on self-destruction, there is only so much you can do. You can't shovel other people's shit for them, not unless they're willing to pick up a shovel and help.

I guess we never really get rid of the broken pieces; we heal, but the scar tissue stays to remind us of what happened.

You can't save everybody. In fact, there are days when I think you can't save anyone.

Grief isn't a neat series of stages. You can jump around in the stages, you can get stuck at one point or the other, and you even get to revisit stages you've already finished. Grief isn't a neat, orderly kind of thing. It's messy, and it sucks.

There comes a point when you just love someone. Not because they're good, or bad, or anything really. You just love them. It doesn't mean you'll be together forever. It doesn't mean you won't hurt each other. It just means you love them. Sometimes in spite of who they are, and sometimes because of who they are. And you know that they love you, sometimes because of who you are, and sometimes in spite of it.

Bad wiring, maybe, but there comes a point when you either embrace who and what you are, or condemn yourself to be miserable all your days.

When you live in a way that's too different from everyone else, you get grief about it. Is it fair? No, but it's still what happens.

Perché sei arrabbiata?» Chinai la testa perché aveva ragione. «Non chiederlo, okay? Lascia che il malumore mi passi e proverò anch'io a lasciare che passi.»

and pressed my hands into fists, trying to prepare myself. There is no real way to prepare

Allora perché sei qui?» chiese Micah. «Sono stanco di scappare da me stesso.» Non mi parve una risposta, benché Richard sembrasse pensarla diversamente. Comunque sentii Micah annuire dietro di me. «Smettila di scappare», disse il mio Nimir-Raj. «Non sono sicuro di sapere come fare.»

He taught me that I was enough, beautiful enough, tall enough, strong enough, just enough.

Screaming was for when you didn't have anything better to do.

The world was what it was. And no amount of anger, or hatred, or self-loathing, or stubborn blindness would change it.

He kept my hand in his and touched my face with his fingertips, ever so lightly. He studied my face as if he would memorize it. The tears slowed, and I looked up into that most beautiful of faces. "Anita Blake, will you do me the honor"—he dropped to one knee in the shower—"the honor and wonder of marrying me?" I started to cry again, damn it! I nodded and finally found my voice. "Yes, yes, I will.