He may be stronger, but I'm not defenseless. He knows that, of coarse. That's why he's here. He wants me for what I can do after all.
Your powers don't work in the rain do they? A little bit of water and your fire fizzles out? So Little Miss Perfect does have a weakness after all!
...true love is an irrevocable act - you can only give your heart away once - after that, you give as much as you have left ...
Yes, I am here. And you are lucky to be here too after all the absurd things you've done since you left home.
I needed to say something. Something romantic! Something to sweep her off her feet. "You're like a potato!" I shouted after her. "In a minefield.
...you fantasize about me reading my poems to you - it doesn't work that way - I write down everything later - living is not an after-thought...
For it is love, that even after knocking you down on your knees, holds up your chin and makes you rise again, to become yet another better version of yourself.
I didn't tell him that the diagnosis came three months after I got my first period. Like: Congratulations! You're a woman. Now die.
the living used to wonder what happened after death. She said that whole religions were born and evolved around this one simple uncertainty.
Thus it is that no cruelty whatsoever passes by without impact. Thus it is that we always pay dearly for chasing after what is cheap.
As she climbed a ladder and started boarding up the smashed front windows, Helen realized that some things stay a little bit broken forever—even after they’ve been fixed.
No matter how much we ask after the truth, self-awareness is often unpleasant. We do not feel kindly toward the Truthsayer.
Nick wouldn’t dream of going on a case without his beloved cat. After all, they had been together for over three hundred years.
And habits are hell's own substitute for good intentions. Habits are the ruin of ambition, of initiative , of imagination. They're the curse of marriage and the after-bane of death.
You can choose when and when not to be stopped... Choose to be stopped after you die... when your work is done and done well.
Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it.
WHY did she do this? She was a terrible drunk texter. All the things she wanted to say to people during the day came out at night, like a vampire.
It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, It lies behind stars and under hills, And empty holes it fills, It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter.
Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking an enormous long wooden pipe that reached nearly down to his woolly toes (neatly brushed)—Gandalf came by.
Sometimes Death lurks after them for days, weeks, or even months, waiting for their time... Sometimes it doesn’t, and I’ve often raced that omnipresent Reaper to one portion of its work.
Words are like eggs dropped from great heights. You can't ever put the pieces back together after they hit home.
