Recently I was tenderly hugging one of our precious little five-year-old granddaughters and said to her, "I love you, sweetheart." She responded rather blandly: "I know." I asked, "How do you know that I love you?" Because! You're my grandfather!
Dear Sweetheart, Without you my days are endless. Days seem like weeks... Weeks feel like months... Months like years... Years like centuries... Centuries like... You get the idea.
Calling people 'sweetheart' makes most people enraged.
The moth don't care when he sees the flame He might get burned, but he's in the game And once he's in, he can't go back He'll beat his wings till he burns them black No, the moth don't care when he sees the flame The moth don't care if the flame is real 'Cause flame and moth got a sweetheart deal And nothing fuels a good flirtation Like need and anger and desperation No, the moth don't care if the flame is real.
Sweetheart, all men are animals. Feed us, pet us, and use a firm hand, and we'll worship at your feet.
Well, think back," said Harry. "Have you ever let it slip that you'd like to go out in public with the words 'My Sweetheart' round your neck?
Suddenly the drunken sweetheart appeared out of my door. She drank a cup of ruby wine and sat by my side. Seeing and holding the lockets of her hair My face became all eyes, and my eyes all hands.
Sweetheart, never listen to what my enemies say. They're very confused people. I know they are because I've spent years making them that way.
Where you just possessed?" Cookie asked after a long moment, awe softening her voice. "'Cause let me tell you, sweetheart, if that was possession, I'm selling my soul.
But in my head I can hear Haymitch's smug, if slightly exasperated, words: "Yes, that's what I'm looking for, sweetheart.
Harry and I have been sweethearts and married more than forty years - and no matter where I was, when I put out my hand Harry's was there to grasp it.
I tell so many lies, sweetheart," he said. "which one specifically?
I don't believe in mistakes. Never have. I believe that there are a multitude of paths before us and it's just a matter of which way we walk home. I don't believe in regret. If you regret things about your life, than I'll bet that you're not paying attention. Regret is just imagining that you know what would have happened if you took that job in California or married your high-school sweetheart or just looked one more time before you stepped out into the street ... or didn't. But you don't know; you can't possibly know.
When the 'Batman' TV series was taken to the silver screen, one of America's favourite sweethearts would don the mask and claws of Catwoman.
As the dog sprinted back, Jack said to the girl, "Sweetheart,honey, why do you have to be so hateful?" "Why not?" Ellie said. "It's not like being good ever got me anywhere.
Sadness doesn't equal weakness, sweetheart. If anything, it shows the love you have inside of you, and nothing stronger in this world exists.
Intelligent too, ooh you my sweetheart. I've always liked my women book and street smart. Long as they got a lil' class like half days and the confidence to overlook my past ways.
Don't you be afraid, sweetheart. Death is just a part of life, something we're all destined to do.
Jessica Lange is a sweetheart, the nicest lady in the world. She has a Poodle named Jack.
Your past's a private matter, sweetheart. You just keep it locked up in xbox where it can't hurt anyone.
Dorothy Hamill was my big idol as a kid. She'd won the Olympics in 1976. She was America's sweetheart with her personality, her talent, her haircut.
I hated the idea of a high school sweetheart. Growing up, oh my God, it just made me sick. I wanted to have a range of cool boyfriends. I wanted to travel around and date these interesting men. Then it just happened. You fall in love.
“Simon,” she whispered, vaguely surprised that she had just used his first name, for she had never used it even in the privacy of her thoughts. Moistening her dry lips, she tried once more, and to her astonishment, she did it again. “Simon…” “Yes?” A new tension had entered his long, hard body, and at the same time, his hand moved over the shape of her skull in the softest caress possible. “Please… take me to my room.” Hunt tilted her head back gently and regarded her with a sudden faint smile playing on his lips. “Sweetheart, I would take you to Timbuktu if you asked.“
Oh my god! Would you shut the front door already?! Look at you walking out here with your hair done, nails done, everything did. Whatchu think you fancy, huh? Look, uh, sweetheart, I don't speak Gucci or anything, but I'll give it my best shot.
He hugged her again, before she could put some distance between them. Then the most sneaky wolf in the den lowered his voice and whispered, “But you’ve got an advantage, sweetheart. You’re already in his head. And you know how to mess with it.
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