P.S. I'm going to throw an absolutely mind-blowing fact your way. I'm not kidding, either. The country of Uganda is obsessed with Celine Dion. They dedicate entire days to broadcasting her music. They love her that much. Five words. My. Heart. Will. Go. On. Yeah.
Fisher AmelieMots clés sophie-price
Prepare yourself, Price, ‘cause I’m about to rock your world.
Fisher AmelieMots clés ian-aberdeen sophie-price
If we don’t make out of this alive, Sophie Price, I want you to know that I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. You’re it for me.
Fisher AmelieMots clés ian-aberdeen sophie-price
It’s the favorite part of my day.”
My eyes opened lazily. “What do you mean?” I whispered.
“When you undo them and run your hands throughout the waves. That’s my favorite part of the day.
Fear, Sadness. They're not weaknesses. They are overpowering, defining emotions. They make you human, Sophie.
Fisher AmelieMen wanted me. They all did, however briefly, but none of them wanted to keep me. That's what I needed. I needed to be owned, loved. BUT NOT BY A MAN. I knew then that I never needed to be kept by a man. What I needed was to love myself, to want to keep myself around. And in that revelation, I knew that if I wanted to keep myself, that a man wanting to keep me would just be a by-product.
Fisher AmelieBut they have life and faith and hope and love and they choose those things. Their innocence is addicting, their hope is catching and I'm happy to be surrounded by them
Fisher AmelieI owned that love. I chose it. I owed no one for it because it couldn't have been purchased. It belonged to me free and clear. I had never felt more empowered.
Fisher AmelieThere was something practically tangible there, like a ray of sun, warming us through to our souls. You could see it, you could feel it, but you couldn't quite capture it in your hands. That didn't mean it wasn't there though. Oh, it was there and it weighted a thousand delicious pounds. I let that pressure inundate me, let it tether me to him.
Fisher AmelieAn Irishman walks into a pub,” she begins and the bar went silent. “The bartender asks him, ‘What'll you have?’” Her Irish accent was spot on. “The man says, ‘Give me three pints of Guinness, please.’ The bartender brings him three pints and the man proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they're gone. He then orders three more.
“The bartender says, ‘Sir, no need to order as many at a time. I’ll keep an eye on it and when you get low, I'll bring you a fresh one.’ The man replies, ‘You don't understand. I have two brothers, one in Australia and one in the States. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we'd still drink together. So right now, me brothers have three Guinness stouts too, and we're drinking together.’
“The bartender thought this a wonderful tradition and every week the man came in and ordered three beers.” January’s playing and voice became more solemn, dramatic. “But one week, he ordered only two.” The crowd oohed and ahhed. “He slowly drank them,” she continued darkly, “and then ordered two more. The bartender looked at him sadly. ‘Sir, I know your tradition, and, agh, I'd just like to say that I'm sorry for your loss.’
“The man looked on him strangely before it finally dawned on him. ‘Oh, me brothers are fine - I just quit drinking.
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