Why are you smiling?' 'I'm relieved,' I said honestly. 'I was worried I'd given myself cadmium poisoning, or I had some mysterious disease. This is just someone trying to kill me.
The funny thing about good people—people like Daneca—is that they really honestly don’t get the impulse toward evil. They have an incredibly hard time reconciling with the idea that a person who makes them smile can still be capable of terrible things. Which is why, although she’s accusing me of being a murderer, she seems more annoyed than actually worried about getting murdered. Daneca seems to persist in a belief that if I would just listen and understand how bad my bad choices are, I’d stop making them.
I couldn't joke about the person who'd saved me from facing absolute heartbreak at home, who fed my family boxes of sweets, who ran to me worried that i was hurt if I asked for him. A month ago, I had looked at the TV and seen a stiff, distant, boring person-someone I couldn't imagine anyone loving. And while he wasn't anything close to the person I did love, he was worthy of having someone to love in his life.
The street to my left was backed up with traffic and I watched the people waiting patiently in the cars. There was almost always a man and a women, staring straight ahead, not talking. It was, finally, for everyone, a matter of waiting. You waited and you waited- for the hospital, the doctor, the plumber, the madhouse, the jail, papa death himself. First the signal red, then the signal was green. The citizens of the world ate food and watched t.v. and worried about their jobs or lack of the same, while they waited.
He was worried she would not let him love her with the stain. He had already decided long ago, twenty or thirty minutes ago, that the stain was fine. He had only seen it for a moment, but he was already used to it. It was good. It somehow allowed them to have more.
...But there's always suffering, Pudge. Homework or malaria or having a boyfriend who lives far away when there's a good-looking boy lying next to you. Suffering is universal. It's the one thing Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims are all worried about.
Please," Kendra said. "Think of all the lives that will be destroyed." "I have," Mark said. "Believe me, darling, I grasp all aspects of this, I really do. But how much has the public I'm protecting worried about me? My sanity, my happiness, my right to find peace?" "They made no promises," Bracken said. "They are not preventing the end of the world. Those who know about your sacrifice appreciate you immeasurably. Your life may not be fair, but it is absolutely necessary.
When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened
When Zach said, "Im going to kill Dr. Steve." It wasn't the angered threat of a worried boy; it was the calm, cool statement of an operative trained to do exactly that. And that, I think, is why it scared me. But it wasn't as terrifying as the look in Bex's eyes when she said, "Not if I find him first.
...whatever you're worried about, you're bigger than the worries.
She ran her gaze over his chest with frank appreciation. Then he shivered, realizing he hadn't really considered the weather. It was forty-five degrees max, but Chloe was giving him a go-on gesture with her hand. "All I have left is my pants," he said. "Yes, please." "It's cold, Chloe." She tilted her head. "Are you worried about shrinkage?" Well, he was now. -Chloe and Sawyer
Imagine staying awake all night not because you're worried about the future but because it's FUN
The only way to maximize group creativity—to make the whole more than the sum of its parts—is to encourage a candid discussion of mistakes. In part, this is because the acceptance of error reduces cost. When you believe your flaws will be quickly corrected by the group, you're less worried about perfecting your contribution, which leads to a more candid conversation. We can only get it right when we talk about what we got wrong.
I worried so much about how I looked and whether I was doing things right, I felt half the time I was impersonating a girl instead of really being one.
… you were so worried about legal and illegal that you never stopped to think about whether it was right or wrong.
I'd worried that letting her get too close would break me. Unfortunately, I'd worried about that a little too late. Because I was broken. The Cage I was before Eva no longer existed. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I'd fallen in love with her. I'd allowed someone in and she hadn't want me. I hadn't been good enough. I never was.
Even though Xavier was only human, it seemed he could protect me from anything and everything. I wouldn't have been worried if a fire-breathing dragon had torn of the roof, because I knew that Xavier was there. I wondered fleetingly if I was expecting to much og him, but dismissed the idea.
I learned from her that every woman is worried about her looks, no matter how beautiful she is.
She found herself to be quite worried that something would jump out at her, so she began to whistle. She thought it might make it harder for things to jump out at her, if she was whistling.
Tayend nodded. “I know it won’t. I admit I was worried about you, but you are still your old self, underneath.” Dannyl straightened in protest. “Underneath what?” The Elyne stood up, waving one hand in Dannyl’s direction. “All…that.” “I’m reeling at your descriptive clarity,” Dannyl told him.
I'm not getting it all sorted, she worried. I'm not getting it right. You are brilliant, the Voice reassured her. It is imperfect. So are all things trapped in time. You are brilliant, nonetheless. How fortunate for Us that We thirst for glorious souls rather than faultless ones, or We should be parched indeed, and most lonely in Our perfect righteousness. Carry on imperfectly, shining Ista.
Gansey had once told Adam that he was afraid most people didn't know how to handle Ronan. What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves.
I am smiling at myself today There's no wish left in this heart Or perhaps there is no heart left Free from all desire I sit quietly like Earth My silent cry echoes like thunder Throughout the universe I am not worried about it I know it will be heard by no one Except me.
You sleep like an angel" Jacks said. The shock of his words in the dark room sent Maddy's stomach leaping into her throat. She didn't even realize she had screamed until it came out of her mouth. "Don't be frightened," Jacks said, sounding worried. "It's just me. I'm sorry, I so didn't mean for that to sound creepy. Let me start over.
Could she learn to like this guy? "“It's nice to meet you." Kylie plastered a warm expression on her face. But she worried he could tell it was a sham. "The pleasure is all mine," he said. Kylie just smiled. He was completely right about that.
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