“I bet he fucks like he drives— a little reckless, pushing all the limits, and in it until the very last lap.”
“Let’s face it, you’re not a spend the night kind of guy, and I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.”
“I know all about baggage, sweetheart. I have enough of it to fill up a 747 and then some.”
“You’ll never know your limits until you push yourself to them.”
“I will not be inconsequential, Colton. To you or to anyone else.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you’re going to learn that sometimes, not being in control is extremely liberating.”
“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”
“You know that deep down, a tiny part of that proper, respectable woman you are, wants to visit that reckless, sexy, uninhibited place inside you that’s begging to get out. A place I can undoubtedly help you find.”
“I’ll purposely do something to hurt you to prove that I can. To prove that you won’t stick around regardless of the consequences. To prove that I can control the situation. To control that I don’t get hurt.”
“The man is captivating in every way and the epitome of sexy. From that boyish grin that disarms me in seconds to his sexy swagger that says he knows exactly where he’s going and what his intentions are. He exudes virility, evokes desire, and commands attention all with a single look from his stunning eyes. He’s edgy and reckless and you want to go along for the ride hoping to get a glimpse of his tender side that breaks through every now and again. The bad boy with a touch of vulnerability who leaves you breathless and steals your heart.”
“You wanna play hardball, sweetheart? Welcome to the big leagues.”
“I know it won’t be enough. I don’t think any amount of time will be enough to love someone like Colton. He is one of those guys who consumes every part of you.”
“Once I fuck you, Rylee—it’s official, you’re mine and only mine.”
“And in this moment, I am completely and utterly his. Swallowed by him. Lost to him and the moment so much so that I am frightened by the power of my feelings.”
“You’re developing a pattern of wanting me right after I know you’ve been with another. That’s a habit you’re going to need to break or nothing else is going to happen here,”
“And then I realized, as I do right now, that in the end I’m going to break you apart.”
“Sometimes our journeys in life seem to take forever to get to the culmination of our efforts—to achieving the goal. And once we get there, it goes so fast and then its over.”
“I bet he fucks like he drives—a little reckless, pushing all the limits, and in it until the very last lap.”
“Keep fightin’ me, sweetheart. The feistier you are, the harder you make me.”
“He is my fire on a cold night, the sun warming my skin on a cool spring morning, the wind caressing my face on an autumn day—he is everything that makes me feel alive, and whole, and beautiful.”
“Just because it's not what you're expecting doesn't mean it's not everything you might need.”
“I smile sadly. My heart wanting so much that my head knows is never going to happen.”
“An angel fighting through the darkness or a devil breaking into the light?”
“... wishing that I were one of those people who say all the right things at all the right times. But I'm not. Instead, I think of them hours later and only wish that I'd said them.”
“I will revel in that moment with him which will be filled with reverent sighs and entangled bodies, and I’ll be devastated when he walks away after having his fill of me.”
“And I know that apology is for so many things. For what can never be. For what should be. For hurting me. For not being the person I need him to be. For not being able to confront whatever is in his past.”
“I can’t figure out what I want to do more, punch him or fuck him.”
“I want to take my time with you, Rylee. I want to build you up nice and slow and sweet like you need. Push you to crash over that edge. And then I want to fuck you the way I need to. Fast and hard until you’re screaming my name. The way I’ve wanted to since you fell out of that storage closet and into my life.”
“It’s been too long since I’ve savored you. You. Are. Intoxicating.”
“On the track, I can escape the paparazzi, the groupies … my demons. The only fear I have is that which I’ve created for myself, that I can control with a swerve of the wheel or a press of the pedal …”
“I could never understand how he always seemed so sure of himself. But now I did. It was because Connor really did know what kind of person he was. He had no regrets because he always shot from his heart.”
“Text VI,7(3) draws a contrast between the pair of distorted views known as eternalism (sassatav̄da) and annihilationism (ucchedav̄da), also called, respectively, the view of existence (bhavadiṭṭhi) and the view of nonexistence (vibhavadiṭṭhi). Eternalism affirms an eternal component in the individual, an indestructible self, and an eternal ground of the world, such as an all-powerful creator God. Annihilationism denies that there is any survival beyond death, holding that the individual comes to a complete end with the demise of the physical body. Eternalism, according to the Buddha, leads to delight in existence and binds beings to the cycle of existence. Annihilationism is often accompanied by a disgust with existence that, paradoxically, binds its adherents to the same existence that they loathe. As we will see below, the Buddha’s teaching of dependent origination avoids both these futile ends (see IX, pp. 356–57).”
“per hour. Handbrake knew that he could keep up with the best of them. Ambassadors might look old-fashioned and slow, but the latest models had Japanese engines. But he soon learned to keep it under seventy. Time and again, as his competitors raced up behind him and made their impatience known by the use of their horns and flashing high beams, he grudgingly gave way, pulling into the slow lane among the trucks, tractors and bullock carts. Soon, the lush mustard and sugarcane fields of Haryana gave way to the scrub and desert of Rajasthan. Four hours later, they reached the rocky hills surrounding the Pink City, passing in the shadow of the Amber Fort with its soaring ramparts and towering gatehouse. The road led past the Jal Mahal palace, beached on a sandy lake bed, into Jaipur’s ancient quarter. It was almost noon and the bazaars along the city’s crenellated walls were stirring into life. Beneath faded, dusty awnings, cobblers crouched, sewing sequins and gold thread onto leather slippers with curled-up toes. Spice merchants sat surrounded by heaps of lal mirch, haldi and ground jeera, their colours as clean and sharp as new watercolor paints. Sweets sellers lit the gas under blackened woks of oil and prepared sticky jalebis. Lassi vendors chipped away at great blocks of ice delivered by camel cart. In front of a few of the shops, small boys, who by law should have been at school, swept the pavements, sprinkling them with water to keep down the dust. One dragged a doormat into the road where the wheels of passing vehicles ran over it, doing the job of carpet beaters. Handbrake honked his way through the light traffic as they neared the Ajmeri Gate, watching the faces that passed by his window: skinny bicycle rickshaw drivers, straining against the weight of fat aunties; wild-eyed Rajasthani men with long handlebar moustaches and sun-baked faces almost as bright as their turbans; sinewy peasant women wearing gold nose rings and red glass bangles on their arms; a couple of pink-faced goras straining under their backpacks; a naked sadhu, his body half covered in ash like a caveman. Handbrake turned into the old British Civil Lines, where the roads were wide and straight and the houses and gardens were set well apart. Ajay Kasliwal’s residence was number”
“I admit to a feeling of pride that my father had saved the day yet again, although I also thought that nothing would have been better for me personally than for the mullah to force my father's departure within the hour. Either way, I know now that nothing would have stopped my father from his Jihad. If he could not remain in Afghanistan, he would go to Pakistan. If Pakistan pulled the welcome mat, he would go to Yemen. If Yemen threw him out, he would journey to the middle of the most hostile desert where he would plot against the West. Violent Jihad was my father's life; nothing else really mattered. Nothing.”
“Dans notre monde bien protégé et si moderne, il n'y a plus de fautifs, plus de fautes non plus. Des incursions ruineuses comme celles de Cuba, du Vietnam, de l'Irak et de l'Afghanistan ne sont plus le fait d'un seul responsable. Par un tour de passe-passe bien pensé, notre propagande donne à croire que les gens et les pays que nous attaquons ont provoqué notre agression.”
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