Dying has a funny way of making you see people, the living and the dead, a little differently. Maybe that's just part of the grieving, or maybe the dead stand there and open our eyes a bit wider.
I coiled my empty straw wrapper around like a snake. Then I bit it before it could bite me. My love is as dangerous as my drinking habits.
You hardly know me. Why do you want me to come with you?" "Who knows? Perhaps you remind me just a bit of—" "Someone you used to know?" Alec interjected skeptically. "Someone I used to .
It's just that life felt the right size in there... not too big and not too small. Wasn't so hard to work up a bit of courage. It's got so bloody complicated since then.
The mage pulled my knife out of his side and looked at it. “Nice knife.” The voice was deep but female. I threw my second knife. The blade bit into the mage’s chest. Shit. Missed the neck. “Here, have another one.
He raised his hand in a peaceful gesture. "You need to relax a bit, dove. Like Mouse over there. You trust me, don't you, Mouse?" "Nope!" "Ahhh, I'm hurt. Nobody likes me.
Who bit you?" he roared. Alexia tilted her head to one side in amazement. "You did." She was then treated to the spectacle of an Alpha werewolf looking downright hangdog. "I did?" She raised both eyebrows at him. "I did.
You know, if you're hopeful, if you're even a little bit happy about something that might happen, it doesn't affect the outcome. You could still give yourself a period of optimism, even if it all falls apart.
History has rewritten itself so many times I'm not really sure how it was to begin with -- it's a bit like trying to guess the original color of a wall when it's been repainted eight times.
When you’re sitting there long enough that you finally see that unbroken line between here and your grave, that you really are that grave every bit as much as you are sitting here… you’ll never feel as free as that.
But if everything was always smooth and perfect, you'd get too used to that, you know? You have to have a little bit of disorganization now and then. Otherwise, you'll never really enjoy it when things go right.
I don’t see the me that you see. I wish for just a little bit I could climb into you and then you could climb into me and then we could tell each other what we saw there.
We were a bit like bacon and eggs, where y'know, the chicken is involved, but the pig is really committed? I totally gave myself to it just as we promised, "for better or worse", and you didn't see it like that.
I reserve magick for necessities, a bit like the good china. It has a time and a place, but eating peanut butter sandwiches off it each morning chips and devalues it.
Roarke: The bodies of the three men were found floating in the Chattahoochee River. Eve: I think it'd be embarrassing to be dead in the Hoochie-Coochie River. Roarke: Chattahoochee Eve: What's the difference? Roarke: Quite a bit, I'd think.
I learned the bad guys are not always bad, the good guys are not always good, and to quote Captain Barbossa, the parameters are like rules, mostly guidelines. And that it takes a little bit of bad boy to fight the evil in the world. --Terri Mitchell
Penny for your thoughts,' asked Gwen. 'Cheapskate,' said Ianto. 'Never heard of inflation? Thoughts are a bit pricier than that these days.' 'OK,' said Gwen. 'A pint down the local tomorrow for your thoughts.' Ianto smiled. 'That's more like it.
I’m sure all of that’s true. Especially the anal bit--Marshall’s always been an ass--but I don’t see how this is relevant, unless of course I’m mistaken, and you really are comparing me to a crumb that needs sweeping. - Shella
He told me he had a wife and daughter, and then he showed me a picture of an 8-year-old girl, to which I said, “Don’t you think she’s a bit too young to be a wife and mother?” Fucking pedophiles.
The conundrum of sanity and insanity, is that it serves us to be some of each. It's really only a question of degrees. You cannot possibly be 100% adjusted and live in this INSANE world. A little bit of crazy is a coping skill.
Here,” I said, shoving the board into his hands. He started laughing. “WHAT are you laughing at?!” I demanded irritably. “Well, it’s just that… that’s going to hurt a bit, my dear. Go on, bend over. I’ll demonstrate.
