Quotes About Meaning

Look for something real.' Syrinda had said. But how could she, when she didn't even know what that was?

What do you think happiness is?" she asked him. "A by-product," he answered immediately, "to being useful." She looked at him. "What?" she said. "What do you mean?" He looked back at her, surprised. "Well," he said, "if you do good work and are useful, that makes you happy.

Marbled endpapers, Mr. McCredie observed, meant nothing to children. But they meant a lot to those who loved color and beauty and stories that would never end.

To understand what a person means or says, it's basically necessary to already know what that person means or is saying.

He gestured at me. "That's Belly." "Belly?" she repeated. "Yup. She's my girlfriend." I think I choked out loud.

Gone had come to mean something different, in a way that is hadn't used to. Something permanent.

When that piece makes sense, everything else starts to.

Smiling, he said, "Did you know that astronomers call them interplanetary dust?

You don't get to change the story because you feel like it. I'm Éponine; you're Cosette! Don't make me out to be the Cosette!" Her lip curls. "What the fuck are you even talking about?" "Les Mis!" "I

You should give him a picture of you to keep him company, if you know what I mean." She frowns at me. "Do you know what I mean?

You should definitely frame the picture too, so people know you're not someone to mess with. A frame says permanence. A picture taped on a wall says here today, gone tomorrow." I chew on my bottom lip thoughtfully. "So maybe a picture of me baking, in an apron--" "With nothing underneath?" Chris cackles, and I flick her forehead lightning quick. "Ow!" "Get serious then!

I'm sorry you got that letter. You were never supposed to see that. It wasn't meant for you to ever read. It was just for me." "Maybe it was fate. Maybe this was all supposed to happen just like this, because…because it was always gonna be you and me.

Supongo que cualquier cosa puede convertirse en ordinario o común si lo haces suficientes veces, pero mi esperanza es que esto nunca lo sea. No para nosotros.

Everything made sense in that moment. This was my chance to make things right with Conrad. The way I saw it, this was what I had been waiting for and I hadn't even known it. It was like the last two months I had been sleepwalking, and now here I was, finally awake. I had a goal, a purpose.

But the really special thing I've included is my letter, the one I wrote to him so long ago, the one that brought us together. I wanted to keep it, but something felt right about Peter having it. One day all of this will be proof, proof that we were here, proof that we loved each other. It's the guarantee that no matter what happens to us in the future, this time was ours.

Do you realize that we don't have a song? Like a song that's ours?" "Okay, then let's pick one." "It doesn't work like that. You don't just pick your song. The song picks you. Like the Sorting Hat.

Do you realize that we don't have a song? Like a song that's ours.

All this? It's a privilege to worship at this temple, do you understand my meaning? Not just any young fool can approach the throne. Remember my words, Lara Jean. You decide who, how far, and how often, if ever. (Stormy)

Det var inte tanken som räknades. Halsbandet var tänkt till mig, men han hade inte gett mig det. Och det var handlingen som betydde något. Avsikten bakom räckte inte. Inte för mig. Inte längre. Det räckte inte med att veta att han innerst inne älskade mig. Han måste säga det rakt ut, visa att han brydde sig. Och det gjorde han inte. Inte tillräckligt.

Suddenly I was struck with the strangest sensation, of wanting, needing, to reach out and touch his cheek with the back of my hand. So he would know, so he would feel exactly how much those words meant to me. Because sometimes words were so pitifully inadequate, and I knew that, but I had to try anyway.

I'm somewhere else entirely, thinking about my letter to Peter, wondering if it was heartfelt enough, and how and when I'm going to give it to him, and what he'll say, and what it will mean.

Every man that ever got to touch me was afforded an honor. A privilege." Stormy waves her hand over me. "All this? It's a privilege to worship at this temple, do you understand my meaning? Not just any young fool can approach the throne.

Alors pourquoi tu m'a embrassé ? demande-t-il. -Si je t'ai embrassé, c'est justement parce que je ne t'aimes pas, je lui explique, comme si ça tombait sous le sens.

Love is not overrated. Or a waste of time. I think everyone says that when they're not in love, never been in love, or they were in love and it didn't go their way. Why? Because a life with no love is no life at all. (Anna K)