liked

I tagged your ass the other night," I said, "while you were sleeping- and you liked it.""Really? I thought it was a dream." "It was. A WET one.

Insane love.Loving insanity.Insanity and love...

Some people are lucky to find love, others must settle with being liked...

Trying something different won't ensure that you would be liked by everyone. Still.. Go on..

Being called __ove_ or __y love_ by someone doesn__ necessarily mean that you are loved or even liked by them.

I can't go outside, I know to much to be out there and I had never liked people.

The TSA liked having fresh agents on the job. Fresh agents with a clear mind and steady hand. Time travel wasn__ for the faint of heart. The pay was good though, but as Scrooby had decided long ago, that even if he didn__ get paid for it, the thrill alone was payment enough. Then again, the TSA realized they couldn__ afford to have disgruntled employees with too much time on their hands and the power of the gods at their fingertips, so the pay was very, very good. Debriefing was routine. And how he hated routine! His supervisor was a senior agent called Guy Krummeck, a rather drab character who liked his shiny silver suits almost as much as he liked to go over every little detail at least three times. Minimum. This time everything went right, so it went quick. Twenty minutes later, tired, he clocked out and went home to his small apartment. Tomorrow, after all, was another day again.

When I was in college, I really liked poetry. I don't read much anymore.

When you want to be well-liked in the world, you have to let a lot of people teach you things that you know and they don't.

This was his first trip on the Ossifar Distana, his first real splash in life. Look what it got him. Mister Smiff liked anonymity. He kept a low profile, often traveling under assumed names, claiming to be anything from a banker to a (very) successful life insurance salesman. He__ never broken the law, at least not irreparably. He was quite generous, well liked, sponsoring many charities anonymously _ which is why it was so surprising to find him floating face down in the private spa in his apartment, murdered. He had been murdered, unless it was a freak shaving accident. Those old razors weren__ called cut-throats for nothing. Yikes.

Worry is yet another side effect of dying.

The last time everyone loved or at least liked everyone was when the world had a population of about 4.

Don't Cry for this biatch, don't cry for this moron. She isn't your type, she doesn't like you and she won't like you she is just a person which is hypocrite and she get's envy when she see your life - How wonderful is it, how is full with loads stuff and then she looks her life. Full of horror, full of days of nightmare, full of days of angry people shouting each other...It's not in the blame, it's in the cases, the place where the two persons live!Don't get angry that he have left you, maybe you will find something better than him, it's a fact you give something for something. Everywhere is like this, don't listen this outside biatches which say "The World isn't a business, it's not you must..." Fucking bullshit, you must do this, somebody saves your life you must go and save and his, that's the rules, that's the law of the attraction, that's how it works, liked or not...

This was his first trip on the Ossifar Distana, his first real splash in life. Look what it got him. Mister Smiff liked anonymity. He kept a low profile, often traveling under assumed names, claiming to be anything from a banker to a (very) successful life insurance salesman. Heâ__d never broken the law, at least not irreparably. He was quite generous, well liked, sponsoring many charities anonymously â_ which is why it was so surprising to find him floating face down in the private spa in his apartment, murdered. He had been murdered, unless it was a freak shaving accident. Those old razors werenâ__t called cut-throats for nothing. Yikes.

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.

Not being liked was so much worse than being invisible.