George had turned at the sound of her arrival. For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. The bushes above them closed. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her. Before she could speak, almost before she could feel, a voice called 'Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!' The silence of life had been broken by Miss Bartlett, who stood brown against the view.
E. M. Forster
I'm the idiot box. I'm the TV. I'm the all-seeing eye and the world of the cathode ray. I'm the boob tube. I'm the little shrine the family gathers to adore.' 'You're the television? Or someone in the television?' 'The TV's the altar. I'm what people are sacrificing to.' 'What do they sacrifice?' asked Shadow. 'Their time, mostly, ' said Lucy. 'Sometimes each other.' She raised two fingers, blew imaginary gunsmoke from the tips. Then she winked, a big old I Love Lucy wink. 'You're a God?' said Shadow. Lucy smirked, and took a ladylike puff of her cigarette. 'You could say that, ' she said.
and Lucy." She looked like she might cry. 'What about her?' "Lucy smells like food." She nearly gagged saying it. 'Sol, all that's normal. Lucy smelled good before I turned, and now she smells even better. But I haven't tried to eat her face and neither will you.' "She's not safe in this house." 'Safer than out there, ' I argued, even though I agreed with her. 'Look, you used to eat hamburgers.' She blinked, confused. "So?" 'So, did you ever walk through one of the farms at a field party and suddenly try to eat a cow?' "Um, no." Her chuckle was watery but it was better than nothing. "And, ew." 'Exactly. You can crave blood and not eat your best friend.
Dont shave, I like it..It helps with one of my new fantasies." "Yeah ?"Zack shifted a little to the center on top of him for maximum pleasure."What new fantasy is that ?" Lucy grinned, the sleepiness in her smile melting into guile."The one about the innocent schoolteacher and the vicious, uncivilized cop.Want to play ?" "Sure."Zack ran his hands up her back."Who do you want to be ?" "I, of course will be the innocent schoolteacher"Lucy batted her eyes at him. "Which makes me the cop.All right you have the right to remain naked." Lucy laughed.
Zach found himself remembering something he'd heard Soledad and Leo saying the previous night, about healing. That it was mysterious. That it took time. And that Lucy was just at the beginning. That a terrible thing had happened - two terrible things, really - but they were now over. And that Lucy would be okay, in the end.
During the night, while Bull and Lucy slept, Edward, with ever-open eyes, stared up at the constellations. He said their names, and then he said the names of the people who loved him. He started with Abilene, and then went on to Nellie and Lawrence and from there to Bull and Lucy, and then he ended again with Abilene: Abilene, Nellie, Lawrence, Bull, Lucy, Abilene. See? Edward told Pellegrina. I am not like the princess. I know about love.
You can love someone, hell, you can love a lot of someones, but when you find the right person-the one that you're meant to be with-it's like... " "You can breathe for the first time, " she finishes for me. "Yes." I cant help but smile.I needed to find that to understand." And you have, " She says softly."Lucy." "Lucy, " I agree.
Lucy preferred gin and tonics during the summer and switched over to whiskey sours in the winter. At dinner, a sit-down affair with the family, Lucy drank whatever the Temerlins drank, including expensive French wines. "She never gets obnoxious, even when smashed to the brink of unconsciousness, " wrote Maurice, revealing more about the chimp's alcoholism than perhaps he intended. At one point, he tried to wean Lucy off the good stuff and onto Boone's Farm apple wine. Assuming she would delight in the fruity swill, he purchased a case and filled her glass one night at dinner. Lucy took a sip of the apple wine, noticed her parents were drinking something else, and put her glass down. She then graabbed Maurice's glass of Chablis and polished it off. She finished Jane's next. Not another sip of Boone's farm ever touched her lips.
Anthony watched him, dumbfounded, and then turned to Lucy. 'What have you done with Zack's brain?' Lucy stood to follow Zack. 'What brain? I don't think he has one. I think he's just one giant exposed nerve ending. I swear sometimes at night, I can hear his neurons snapping like popcorn.
When the time is right, you might right, you might consider telling Theo that you've been in love with him for a long time now.' Lucy sniffed. 'And I'm supposed to do this without Milk Duds? As if!' Doris laughed. 'You know, being true to yourself takes courage, Lucy. Great joy always requires great risk, and even effort.' 'Yeah. OK. But I've always been more of a drive-through person.
Lucy, dear child, mind your arithmetic. You know in the first sum of yours I ever saw there was a mistake. You had carried two (as a cab is licensed to do), and you ought, dear Lucy, to have carried but one. Is this a trifle? What would life be without arithmetic, but a scene of horrors.
I used to wonder why Lucy liked those songs so much. You know what I mean? She sits in the dark and listens and cries. Music does that to her...I didn't understand for a long time. But I do now. The sad songs are a safe hurt. It's a diversion. It's controlled. And maybe it helps you imagine that real pain will be like that. But it's not. Lucy knows that, of course. You can't prepare for real pain. You just have to let it rip you apart.
Lucy gripped her chilled glass of orange and raspberry juice. When Rebecca talked about Austen, she'd mostly mentioned Mr. Darcy or Mr. Knightley. She hadn't really thought of the doe-eyed, pale-skinned heroines. On the screen, Anne Elliot walked down a long hallway, glancing just once at covered paintings, her mouth a grim line. Lucy thought Jane Austen would start the story with the romance, or the loss of it, but instead the tale seemed to begin with Anne's home, and having to make difficult decisions. Maybe this writer from over two hundred years ago knew how everything important met at the intersection of family, home, love, and loss. This was something Lucy understood with every fiber of her being.
Mary Jane Hathaway
Then with Lucy [Hale], her little thing that I kind of learned from her is her country music because she's obsessed with country and at the beginning, I wasn't a huge fan of it, but I was listening to some songs that she plays in the hair and makeup room and she's also so funny, too. She does these character impersonations and they're just so funny. Made up characters of course, but she can switch into someone else so fast. I'm always laughing at Lucy and she's like a little Polly Pocket, you know? The tiny one.
Woodward and Bernstein, ' Jared said from seemingly nowhere. 'What?' 'They were just two reporters. Yet, they broke the Watergate scandal. They toppled an administration. That's us.' 'We're Woodward and Bernstein.' Alec said, pointing between him and Jared. 'Woodward, Bernstein, and Lucy, ' Lucy corrected.
It's a fine, warm day, ' Henry replied. 'I thought a spot of fishing?' 'Just the thing!' said Felix. 'Will you join us, Lucy?' Lucy felt Kitty and Sophia staring at her. Well-bred ladies, evidently, did not fish. 'Oh, no! I assure you, Mr. Crowley-Cumberbatch, I have given up those hoyden pursuits of my youth.' She turned to Toby. 'I haven't been fishing in ages. I can't remember the last time.' 'Really, Luce?' Toby sounded incredulous. 'Henry-is it true?' Henry sawed away at a slice of ham. 'If you count six days as ages, then I suppose it's true. But if you can't remember six days back, Lucy, and you've forgotten Felix's Christian name, I'm concerned for you. Perhaps you've been spending too much time with Aunt Matilda.
I get very close to people when I'm shooting them. We would go and shoot a scene with Lucy, and I would spend the whole time telling her about Rob. Then I would go shoot a scene with Rob and tell him all about Lucy. Eventually they wanted to know each other. These are two people who would never have overlapped in any other way or context. We brought to the garden at Rob's office and just sat and watched what unfolded. I remember weeping behind the camera, because I was so moved by the way they connected.
K, boys, it's shirts against skins. Lose 'em, ' Lucy said, pointing to the guys and ignoring Thad. 'I beg your pardon?' Thad said, aghast. 'Why do we have to be skins?' Josh complained. Lucy looked at Erin and they both shrugged and grabbed the hems of their shirts, preparing to haul them over their heads. 'Whoa!' Sable said, covering his eyes immediately. 'Wait, ' Josh, Angelo, and Thad said at the same time. 'Hell, yeah, ' Blaze chimed in. The girls stopped right before they fully exposed their chest. 'What? You guys act like none of you have ever seen a pair of boobs in a bra before. Josh saw mine a few hours ago and I know, for a fact, that three of you have seen hers outside the bra.' Lucy looked pointedly at Thad, Blaze, and Angelo. Erin's head snapped in Josh's direction. 'JOSH!' she screeched, accidentally letting loose a snap of electricity.
Graham's thoughts of me were not entirely those of a frozen indifference, after all. I believe in that goodly mansion, his heart, he kept one little place under the skylights where Lucy might have entertainment, if she chose to call. It was not so handsome as the chambers where he lodged his male friends; it was not like the hall where he accommodated his philanthropy, or the library where he treasured his science, still less did it resemble the pavilion where his marriage feast was splendidly spread; yet, gradually, by long and equal kindness, he proved to me that he kept one little closet, over the door of which was written 'Lucy's Room.' I kept a place for him too - a place of which I never took the measure, either by rule or compass: I think it was like the tent of Peri-Banou. All my life long I carried it folded in the hollow of my hand - yet, released from that hold and constriction, I knew not but its innate capacity for expanse might have magnified it into a tabernacle for a host.
Lucy paused, hands full of green beans, her memory flashing back to the giant pots of crawfish on the stove. Her Mama's green eyes would squint into the steam, hair pulled back, a frown of concentration on her face. The salted water was flavored and ready to receive the 'mudbugs' out of their burlap sacks. Other than an onion or maybe an ear of corn, if it wasn't alive when you threw it in, then it shouldn't be in the pot, she'd say. Did her Mama mind that Lucy didn't cook those old family recipes? Was she turning her back on her culinary heritage as surely as Paulette was? She snapped the ends of the beans faster, glancing at the clock. This whole dinner was breaking her Mama's cardinal rule: don't hurry. She thought if a cook was in a hurry, you might as well just make a sandwich and go on your way.
Mary Jane Hathaway
She brought her elbow backward and connected with Rand's ribs. He swore and released her. She whirled on him. 'That's for being so arrogant!' Rand advanced on her, and the grin on his face wasn't at all reassuring. She took one step back, then turned to sprint into the bathroom, when a pair of hands caught her and slung her over a hard muscled shoulder. 'Put me down right now!' She screamed as she pummeled his back. 'You are the most annoying, selfish, barbaric, horny man I know, Rand Miller!' He set her back on her feet inside the bathroom, then cupped her chin in his palm. 'You are the most gorgeous, intelligent, feisty woman I know, Lucy Flemming.' Lucy narrowed her eyes. What was he up to now? 'Flattery won't help you out of this one.' 'It's not flattery. It's the truth, ' he murmured as he leaned close to her ear. 'And, baby?' 'Yes?' she answered, her voice nearly inaudible as his nearness began to override her anger. 'I'd better be the only horny man you know.
Linnie. And this Winnie.' They wore identical smiles, their bright black eyes sparked with curiosity. 'Are you the doctor?' 'No, I'm just volunteering.' 'I knowed that, too.' Winnie gave her an exaggerated shake of the head. 'Girls is never the doctor. They's the nurses.' 'Oh no, what about Dr. Clare? Huh? The lady doctor who took care of Grammy in the hospital when she broke her hip bone?' Linnie asked. 'Yeah, but she was a white lady. They can be doctors.' Winnie looked at Lucy. 'Right? There are white lady doctors. I seen 'em.' Lucy felt her eyes go wide. Were there children who still believed your gender or color dictated your career? 'There are white lady doctors, black lady doctors, white man doctors, black man doctors.' They stared at her. She thought for a moment. 'And there are white man nurses and black man nurses, too.' 'Now you're just bein' silly, ' Linnie said and let out a laugh.
Mary Jane Hathaway