Several things ran through my head as I watched this silent ballet: First, I was running low on pears, my favorite morning fruit. Second, I, as a woman, am much smarter than men, I having displayed foresight this male apparently lacked in regards to ...
Nobody should have to put their boxers in a half rotted chest of drawers.” “Hey. I’ll have you know that the rustic look is very popular in the burbs.” “Rustic?” Chase snorted. “Is that your way of saying termite infested?” “This fu...
People, heed my warning: That stuff is Specials Olympics in a pint glass. You think they are harmless and not very strong, and the next thing you know it is an hour later and you are in the bathroom of the bar with your pants off, surrounded by five ...
That was how Sinner got his first taste of anything other than the froth on his father's ale. It made you grimace, but if you drank enough it felt like discovering an entire hidden room in your own house that you'd never even known about. You wanted ...
Surely, comrades, you do not want Jones back?" Once again this argument was unanswerable. Certainly the animals did not want Jones back; if the holding of debates on Sunday mornings was liable to bring him back, then the debates must stop. Boxer, who...
The heart of the matter is whether knowing evil (or sin or crime or whatever you want to call it) is random or purposeful. If it's purposeful, we can fight it, it's hard to defeat, but we have a chance, like two boxers in the same weight class, more ...
Peter eyes his swanky and incredibly dated jacket and fluffs the frills on his sleeves. Outside the window stands a guy in a tattered grey hoodie and cut-offs that slide down to his hips, thus exposing the plaid glory of his boxers. “Damn pity. If ...
I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Homes, in one of his queer humours, would sit in an armchair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges and proceed to adorn the opposite wall ...
See? Nothing to it." "I see all right," Carly said, her tone full of awe. She gaped at him. "What?" "Um..." "Jesus, Carly, what is it?" He spun around to make sure there wasn't something behind him that would justify her reaction and the look of impr...
What do you think an artist is? An imbecile who only has eyes, if he is a painter, or ears if he is a musician, or a lyre in every chamber of his heart if he is a poet, or even, if he is a boxer, just his muscles? Far from it: at the same time he is ...
Her underwear, her jeans, the comforter, my corduroys and my boxers between us, I thought. Five layers, and yet I felt it, the nervous warmth of touching – a pale reflection of the fireworks of one mouth on another, but a reflection nonetheless. An...
Because baby, I'm wild pussy and wild pussy can't be bought. Wild pussy doesn't like having pretty things thrown at it and being expected to do the samba on someone's cock in return. Wild pussy doesn't do deals. Wild pussy lives free and for itself a...
Patton: Men, all this stuff you've heard about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of horse dung. Americans traditionally love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admir...
Who told you you couldn't come back when you're grown? Was it the same person who told you grown-ups don't cry or blush or clap their hands when they're happy? Don't try to say otherwise, I've seen you fighting like a boxer to change your face so tha...
What better reminder do we have than our kids of our own best selves, our less stressed and more carefree selves? In their silliness we see the echo of the way we used to be: when we were kids, yes, but also before we had kids, or even two weeks ago,...
Doug the Head: [examining Franky's diamonds] Ah, from Russia with love, eh? Franky Four Fingers: I have stones to sell, fat to chew, and many different men to see about many different dogs, so if I am not rushing you... Doug the Head: Slow down, Fran...
From her vantage point, looking up at [Ian] through the water-spotted and slightly blurry lenses of her glasses, he was quite literally larger than life. Right at that moment, with his hands up on his head, his muscular chest bare, and his boxer shor...
Language is my whore, my mistress, my wife, my pen-friend, my check-out girl. Language is a complimentary moist lemon-scented cleansing square or handy freshen-up wipette. Language is the breath of God, the dew on a fresh apple, it's the soft rain of...
Brick Top: Pull your tongue out of my arsehole, Gary. Dogs do that. You're not a dog, are ya Gary? Gary: No, no I'm not. Brick Top: But you do have all the characteristics of a dog, Gary. All except loyalty. [Errol zaps Gary] Turkish: [Voice over] It...
...my father, [was] a mid-level phonecompany manager who treated my mother at best like an incompetent employee. At worst? He never beat her, but his pure, inarticulate fury would fill the house for days, weeks, at a time, making the air humid, hard ...
[Danny walks in on Derek and Stacey having sex] Danny Vinyard: [whispering] Der. Derek. Stacey: Jesus, Danny! Fuckin' perv. Derek Vinyard: Jesus, Danny. What the fuck are you thinking? Danny Vinyard: Derek, there's a black guy out there breaking into...
