I wrote about the rush of love, the changing of a woman into a mother—a process that happened without conscious thought, as if the heart knew what the mind and body took time to learn. Love is the one thing that matters. That makes everything else ...
At home, besides being Peter or Jane, we also bear a general character; husband or wife, brother or sister, chief, colleague or subordinate. Not among Friends. It is an affair of disentangled, or stripped, minds. Eros will have naked bodies; Friendsh...
Waves are the sea's white daughters, And raindrops the children of rain, But why for my shimmering body Have I a mother like Pain? Night is the mother of stars, And wind the mother of foam— The world is brimming with beauty, But I must stay at home...
I had never met a lord before, nor had I ever expected to meet one. It didn't matter what he looked like: he was a lord first, and a human being, with a face and limbs and body, long, long after.
And I'm trying to stay strong. I really, really am. But he smells so damn good, and his lips are just right there... all soft and inviting, and all I can think about is having them on my body.
Our environment, including the physical body, reflect our inner state - what we are inwardly, our eternal nature. When we renew our mind and transform ourselves, our environment responds to this change automatically.
In a flash of anger, Midas grabbed a sod of earth and hurled it at the water, which broke into a hundred chained circles. Picturing Ida like the body in the bog made his heart seem to wilt and blow away. His face screwed through expressions.
The other two entered the room. Vimes gave his men his usual look of resigned dismay. "My squad," he mumbled. "Fine body of men," said Lady Ramkin. "The good old rank and file, eh?" "The rank, anyway," said Vimes.
Bodies always tell the truth. They give us hints of how to listen for it, and to recognize it when we hear or see it.
The journey from the head to the hand is perilous and lined with bodies. It is the road on which nearly everyone who wants to write—and many of the people who do write—get lost.
[Mandela] had believed all his life that you are very much in control of your own body, and, in the process of healing, your mind had to be stronger than the medicines applied. You also had to have determination to get better.
Music is heard in the background. As the movemnt becomes sharper; the many dancers acting but as one. She is one with her secret. As the time draws near, the woman's body begins to push. With the rhythm of the music and the beat of the dancer's feet;...
Taking a break. Been working solid for the last few hours, as opposed to working liquid, which is more drinkable. Can I pour you a glass of productivity?
Peanut butter and jelly is like the older, more serious brother to egg salad sandwich. I’m an only child, so I eat both with incredible sadness.
In middle school, I got picked on a lot. But boy, it sure felt good to get picked, because who doesn’t like to get chosen and called out as special?
Knocking on a door is so violent. Instead, try talking to the door to get it to open up to you. I should write a self-help book for door-to-door salesmen.
A circular table that spins around is a great way to make a romantic dinner for two with three people less awkward. I’ll pay for myself, I promise.
I’m 33, and an 18-year-old girl called me old. I said, “You may be temporarily young, but you’ll forever be childish.” Then I put gum in her hair.
The last 33 years of my life have been a blur, like a hummingbird’s beating wings. Time flies, but not backwards, like a hummingbird can.
The Book of Life, I’m still writing it—both literally and literarily. So far I’ve written the Table of Contents. Right now it’s more of a coffee table.
I refer to myself as he, the third person, because the first two people are out on a date. They probably expect me to pick up their tab.
