Richelle Goodrich Quotes - Page 4

When I finally find that one willing agent, I'll have found my prize in the Cracker Jack box.

Optimism: That effervescent, blindingly- bright, perky, chipper, twittering quality you want to squash out of annoying people.

The earth provides us a brand new beginning every twenty-four hours. It is a repeated invitation to breathe in the cool morning air and start afresh; to mimic the sunrise and brighten up while reaching once more for the sky; to carry a glad song in our heart like the early birds; and, as faithfully as the morning dew, to wash off the dust from yesterday.

I have lost my spark, I'm told, and should seek to rekindle it.  Respecting the messenger, I wonder if this is true.  I feel as if my spark endures, but having opened up to the world so bright, perhaps it no longer shines by comparison.  So, without a word, I slip back into seclusion to nurture my beautiful inner glow.

Prove that you love me through a lingering gaze and never losing that twinkle of adoration in your eyes.

Authors always carry a means for scribbling and an excuse for pausing, often inopportunely, to record those fleeting sparks of creative fancy that might otherwise vanish like a wisp in the wind if ignored.  Writing is a jealous and needy lover.

Reality and fantasy are not two separate spheres but one whole. They are like a world's atmosphere―reality behaving as a low front, fantasy a high front. Each remains somewhat distinguishable and yet they swirl and join, affecting and manipulating the other. One cannot perceive where reality ends and fantasy begins, but life would grow stagnant and die without the influence of both.

Years ago, a group of good, wise, brave, God-fearing men stood up to claim and defend the human right for independence. Those men are now dead. Their work is not. If good, wise, brave, God-fearing men fail to stand up in their stead, that independence will cease to exist.

When problems beat upon you like a raging storm, search for the eye. You might not be able to avoid misfortunes, but you can find the calmest spot within them.

I do listen. I just wait for the words to stop and your eyes to speak.

Mary and Josephhuddle snugly together.They cradle God's son.

There are those who fear the sunset, worried they will never see light again. There are those who ignore the sunrise, squandering dawn, believing they will never run out of daylight. And then there are those who have learned to live in the sun's warmth, gauging time by its positions, thankful at night that the day happened. Be aware of time. Use it wisely. Be thankful for the light allotted.

Sipping teawith gleebeneath a gooseberry tree.I wish Alice were here.Oh, my dear,do not fear,she will be.

Mr. Cat and Mr. Dog were neighbors who fought like, well, cats and dogs. That is until Mr. Rat moved in. It's fascinating how easily two enemies ally at the introduction of a third.

Though I may accumulate a great deal of riches in this world, it is only my wealth of knowledge, talents, and emotional bonds that I keep when I leave.

You think I read your thoughts, but it's your eyes that speak to me. When they glisten with moisture, I see a depth of emotion stirring behind them. One tearful glance begs me for a reassuring embrace. When your gaze glazes over like a misty morning, I know I've lost you to personal cares. A sharp, narrow look will keep me at bay while a wink and twinkle and the flirty flutter of your dark eyelashes invite my company. The strength and duration of a stare gives your feelings towards me away. And when those wary eyes dart to avoid my notice, all of your hidden secrets are betrayed.

I am grateful for hands to tickle with. Not so grateful for that process in reverse, however.

If you couldn't sense heat, you'd not be alive. And if that heat never grew uncomfortable, you would never move. And if you were stagnant—unchallenged by unpredictable flares—you would never grow capable of shielding yourself from harsher flames. So yes, life was meant to drag you straight through the fire.

Bad habits are demons that often push us into isolation because they know that in our loneliness they stand little chance of being overcome.

The elixir of life is a bubbling stream of laughter.

There is a sky full of stars aplenty, and all you can babble about is a cold, little rock we call the moon. This is how it is with petty problems that exist too close to us.

I think I'd rather be liked than loved. It just seems as if more criticism and chastening is shown to those we love, while kind manners and compassion are reserved for those we simply like. So, I hope you like me.

Yes, happiness is dependent upon misery. For we all feel a swell of happiness after our circumstances improve from a misery recently suffered.

Barking at people earns their respect about as effectively as staring into the sun improves your vision.

I wish everyone had someone who never popped their balloons.

When gossip starts, be deaf.

Kindness is going out of your way to perform favors regarded as wonderful by the recipient.

What is this thing of intangible substance that wreaks consequential havoc on our lives? What is this sensitive thread that runs through heart and mind, and when given the slightest tremor grasps hold of all sanity, dragging the afflicted down to insufferable depths or flinging him weightless to euphoric heights? What is this magic we would deem imagination, fantasy, or pretend if not for the evidence of power manifest by human consequences? Effortlessly controlling us, it affects the infected in an instant. It takes but one word, one thought, one act to become immersed. To stop it is hopeless. To stifle it, demanding. To think to master it is both improbable and pretentious. What is this invisible hand that blinds our eyes and reigns hearts with a string? It is nature's drug and poison we call emotion.

Theories look great on paper until reality scribbles all over the page.

There are many roads in this world that will guide you to pleasurable, fun, and exciting destinations that do not end in any form of lasting happiness. So before you step on an enticing path, figure out where it leads.

Do we ignore the needyto spite the greedy?Or share and defenddespite those who pretend?

If you suffer lingering doubts; if the consolation you cling to is ‘it will probably be okay,’ then run the other way because what you’re contemplating is not a good choice.

No matter what you write, no matter how meticulous and painstaking the creation process, someone is going to laugh, scorn, and dissect your work with criticism while another quietly falls in love with it.

Hatred is prevalent on this earth because it requires no real effort, unlike the investment it takes to genuinely understand a person.

You are not my sunshine. Sorry. You're more like a gust of arctic wind that bursts in and blows out all the candles when the door cracks open.

It’s not a dream, it’s my destiny.

Nothing can squelch your fire except turning your back on the thing that fuels it.

There are times you find yourself standing by the wayside, watching as someone struggles to dig a well with a spoon, and you wish with all your heart you had arms and a shovel.

Your efforts extend like ripples on the ocean, much further than you know.

It is my belief that almost anyone can be had with breadcrumbs. For if you leave a trail of the right variety, your prey will come straight to you.

Your body and spirit, subconscious and conscious—every portion of you recognizes home.  That is why on the moment of arrival, your entire being relaxes into a contented puddle of joy.

Hey, pretty book, why don’t you lie in my lap awhile?

I'm going on a diet.  (Crud, I know)I am going to be cranky. I am going to be irritable.I am going to be moody and sad and mean. And, yes, I am going to be hungry. Please don't feed me, even if I try to bite you. Please don't tease me, I may hurt you.Please don't try to encourage me, I may growl and snap at you. Please don't help me, I may blame you for everything aggravating in the known universe.  Please don't be offended by my scowl, I cannot smile.  But most importantly, please keep your distance until this trial is over to prevent any unnecessary casualties. Thank you for your understanding. 

Love is the ultimate no-calorie sweetener.

This is me today, but take heed; it is not the same me as yesterday, and it will not be the same me tomorrow.

My soul, I’ve found, has puppet strings to make me droop or give me wings.And music is the puppeteerthat turns my ear to hear.

The moon is my fear.The sun is my heart afire.The stars, my love songs.

Nothing remains idle and thrives. Life needs a moving force to prevent the devastating effects of stagnancy. That is why life employs change.

You can add up your blessings or add up your troubles. Either way, you'll find you have an abundance.

Children harbor a great many doubts and sorrows that could be eased by a loving hug from a parent.

One thing I've learned is that in the midst of your darkest moments of tribulation, there is no such thing as mass friends.

Some live for their own joy and pleasure. Some live to ease the burdens of others.  Then there are those who seem to exist for pain's sake only, that in the end the wrathful fire sent to consume their oppressors will be justified."~ In loving memory of Miss Annabelle Fancher

Why is it that at the very moment I need to appear graceful I stumble and fall like a klutz, as though this scene had never played through my mind differently a million times?

You made a choice—a single choice. How neat to think you may have opened the door to a wondrous future without knowing.

When there is not enough time to do your best, do the best you can with the time you have.

Oh, mightiest wind,wilt thou cease thy breathing inand hold thy exhales?

Hate is loud. Love, however, is so pleasantly felt it has no need to be heard.

Eena turned aside, breathing shallowly as her mind raced with questions. She was glad he couldn’t read the confusion that swooped her up like a passing tornado. Was it even possible to genuinely love more than one man? Yes. Oh, yes.She knew it because her heart irrefutably felt it. She loved Derian; it was true. She wasn’t trying to convince herself of it, no matter what Edgar said. She yearned deeply for her captain. But she loved Ian too. She always had. Only she purposefully, appropriately, had set those feelings aside when he made the decision to pursue Angelle. But Angelle was gone now. No, Eena thought to herself, this changes nothing. She scolded her heart for longing for something spent and ended, for even considering the possibility. Her with Ian? No, no, it had to remain in the past.

What kind of person is void of compassion? A heartless one. But alas, compassion cannot exist without the endurance of afflictions.

Life is a fierce duel with emotions and a slow war with psychology.