Quotes About Understanding

You don't understand,' she said, and there was a puzzling trace of resentment in her voice. 'Children never do. The love a parent has for a child, there's nothing else like it. No other love so consuming.

You are my conscience. You have ever been, James Carstairs.

Some burns," Clary said. "Nothing that matters" "Everything that happens to you matters to me." "Well that certainly explains why you haven't called me back once. And the last time I saw you, you ran away without telling me why. It's like dating a ghost." Jace's mouth quirked up slightly at the side. "Not exactly. Isabelle actually dated a ghost. She could tell you--" "No," Clary said. "It was a metaphor. And you know exactly what I mean.

A lot of people think that to make a garden, all you have to do is put a few seeds in the ground. These are the same people who think that conceiving a baby makes you a good parent.

These people who came west to "civilize" the heathen—what made them decide to do that? To me it's completely irrational to go into somebody else's country and try to tell them how to think, how to pray, how to live, how to raise their children. —Roberta Conner, director, Tamástslikt Cultural Institute

When you choose a man who thinks eight seconds is a long time, perhaps you need two of them. Hmm?

You know, I wouldn't mind more than a kiss." He let out a laugh. "Believe me, neither would I, but not right now." Drink your tea, get some food in your stomach, and, maybe, we'll talk." A frown creased her brow. "Talk?" He had to smile at her persistence. "We'll talk about possibly doing more than kissing, deal?

Music can be healing, and with my history and my knowledge of both sides of what looks like a gigantic divide in the world, I feel I can point a way forward to our common humanity again.

From the moment I could talk, I was ordered to listen.

From the day I could talk, I was ordered to listen.

We can't shape what we don't understand, and what we don't understand and use ends up shaping us.

It happened again this afternoon. Just the way it did that other night. We were talking--talking about how to protect her, actually--and then, suddenly, I looked at her and it was as if I'd found an entire universe in her eyes.

I don't love you. But I see the value of you, the incredible worth of you, more than anyone I've ever known.

He seems so.. English sometimes, kind of distant or reserved, but then he'll look at me, and his eyes see right through to my soul..

We know things with our lives and we live that knowledge, beyond what any theory has yet theorized.

I think you know, Matthew. You have many corners in your heart.

Hunter, I think I'd better leave you, yes? So you can make peace with your woman." With a grimace, Hunter nodded. "Her heart is laid upon the ground." "Is it me? I will make talk with her." "I don't think it would be safe," he said wryly.

Cautiously Hunter asked, "Then what makes your heart sad?" She bit her bottom lip and tipped her head back to stare at the smoke hole. After several seconds she sniffed and said, "You're a man." She looked so forlorn that Hunter had to bite back a smile.

Blue Eyes, if you do not know the tosi tivo way, we must do it the Comanche way.

Hunter rolled onto his back, taking her with him. He loved the feel of her slender length pressed against him. Running his hands into her hair, he held her face inches above his own so he could search her eyes. It pleased him to see compassion and pity shining there. She was as golden within as she was without.

She splayed her fingers on his chest, shoving with the heels of her hands to lever herself away from him. Hunter tensed his arm at her waist to hold her. He wondered if she was aware of his hardness. Then he felt her heartbeat accelerate and had his answer. He bit back a tender smile. If only she knew how easily he could see her thoughts, like pebbles at the bottom of a clear pool.

You will tell me of this anger that burns within you, eh?" "As if you don't know!" He propped his elbows on his bent knees. Women. He'd never understand them.

I'm here if you need an ear. You can count on me." With that, she left the loft. Loretta wrapped her arms around her knees and gazed out the window at the moonlit yard, remembering another night, a lifetime ago, when Hunter had sat astride his black stallion there, his arm lifted to her in a salute, his fisted hand holding her stolen bloomers. How could it be that a Comanche understood the song her heart sang and her own aunt did not?

You will learn not to fight me, Yellow Hair. It is a promise I make for you.