Quotes When Enough Is Enough Novels & Stories

But today, on the morning after the flowers closed and the answer was yes, I want to say something different. I want to say: *You were enough.* Not: you were going to become enough. Not: you would find out what you were worth. *You were enough.* Standing at that altar in a plum dress with your legs shaking and your spine straight, you were enough. You were the Warden of a city you had not yet found. You were the living centre of a chord that had not yet sounded. You were the person who would say yes four times on a warm stone beside a tall flowering plant in a garden above a river city — and you were that person already, that morning, before any of it had happened.

He crossed his arms while narrowing his eyes at me. Time passed while playing, laughing and revealing a few things about each other which made me late for the office. Just thinking about it gives me a weird feeling. •••••••••••••• 'Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see'. ~Mark Twain. I used this quote in my poem. H.LOCKHART.

Getting it, he began to flip the pages of the big book that could be mistaken for an encyclopedia. His eyes stumbled on a quote by Martin Luther King Jr. It said: "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." He raised his eyes from the quote, and his brain began to process the words, mechanically. Then a question popped up: What am I silent about? Anderson quickly hopped down from his bed. He took a jotter and began to scribble, quickly. Done, he skedaddled his eyes through what he'd written. He checked the calendar on his phone; two weeks till next month.

In fact, I too think in the same way, until I turned my gift into my greatest strength. It was Theodore who motivated me by reading the famous words of Albert Einstein, ‘Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it is stupid.’ "Now, tell me who you are and why you are here." Does the Queen send you to kill me?" I asked, tightening my grip on his neck.

“Was I not enough?” “I hate seeing you like this...” I tell her even if I know she does not hear me right now. “I hate how you think you're not worth it or you were not enough. He didn't see how precious you were, America. He does not see what I see in you and I hope you see the light in you the way I see it from my view.”

She talked about Alexander, the way he had manipulated her, used her, discarded her when she was no longer useful. "I thought if I could make him love me, I would finally be enough," she said. "But I was never enough. Not for him. Not for anyone." "You don't have to be enough for anyone but yourself." "That's easy for you to say." "It's not easy." Isabella's voice was gentle. "It's the hardest thing in the world. But it's worth it." Genevieve was silent for a long moment. Then she said, "How do you do it?"

enough. More than enough. A thousand times enough. Everything.

"That's not it. I'm here because I love you. I told him those things because I love you. I don't want to hurt you anymore. "Matthew, I love you. I'm in love with you..." Words of love always sounded beautiful. If this were before, I might have forgiven her again. But this was the 100th, and I had no forgiveness left. Even if she meant it, so what? I gave her a hundred chances. "I don't want your love anymore, Tiffany. Just because you love me doesn't mean I owe you anything in return," I said. At that, Tiffany's tears finally fell. She gave me many firsts that day—her first time looking disheveled, her first time crying. But none of it moved me.

"I don't want you to go." "I know, baby. But I'm tired. So tired. And I'm ready. I've lived eighty-one years. I've helped thousands of people. I've loved and been loved. That's enough. More than enough. I'm full. Now it's your turn to fill up. Your turn to pour out. Your turn to choose."

They all look more qualified than me. The thought squeezed painfully at my chest. Before I could spiral further, a familiar voice echoed inside my head. “Confidence isn’t about believing you’re the best. It’s about believing you’re enough.” My late father’s words. A faint smile tugged at my lips. “I’m enough,” I whispered under my breath. Just then, the receptionist looked up. “Miss Vera Adams?” My stomach flipped. I rose to my feet so quickly I nearly knocked my handbag off the chair.