I remember the first time we made love like it was the second time. We never made love again, and I don’t regret it for a second.
Stop a drunk driver and you stop a murderer—even if he hasn’t killed anyone yet. In all the alternate universes, the odds are he’s already killed—and will kill again.
There was something odd for him about not feeling lonely. The very fact that he had ceased to be lonely caused him to fear the possibility of becoming lonely again.
We made love like Tuesday at noon, even though it was Thursday at 3:00, and then again at 3:03. (I have the stamina of a water lily).
The only thing we can do is to say ‘Fuck it’ over and over again, really loud, until someone stops us.
Indeed, one concern would be that the initial neoconservative response to a zombie outbreak would be to invade Iraq again out of force of habit.
If at first you don’t succeed, you’re doing it wrong. Learn from the experience. Try again, but with a different approach.
Never again will I underestimate the greatness inside of me just because of the hate and limited thinking inside of others.
Life is too short to not kick fear in the ass and allow yourself to love again.
The battlefields of life were first meadows and gardens. We made them into battlefields, and by the same power, we must release the dark spell, so they are meadows and gardens once again.
I won't be affected by your charm nor I will trap you into marriage. I've been there once, never again. - Kristine
That the earth in its course stood still; that a she-ass spoke; that a storm was quieted by a word, we do not believe, and we shall never again believe.
things change and they are never the same again. This looks like one, of those times, Hem. That's life! Life moves on. And so should we.
If a deadly snake slithering around in a pre-school bit a child, would you box it up for a month as punishment, and then release it to prey upon the children once again?
My knitting is simple", he said again. Ï can make anything you want with it, but it will always be simple.
I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked down at the model again, looking at that girl and boy on the curb. Forever in that place, together.
It was like when you ripped a piece of paper into two: no matter how you tried, the seams never fit exactly right again.
What he wanted was Megan wanting him... but not needing him. Not vulnerable to him. Sure as help not trying to leave him over and over again... and simply failing.
I saw that she didn't want to answer that question and so I asked again: when mouths close it's because there's something important to be said.
Memories are powerful that way. They can bring a person back to another place and time and make them laugh or cry all over again.
she wondered how she could have spent all that money and have nothing but clothes and accessories and a long list of men she never wanted to see again to show for it
