the demons that make a person afraid are the hardest to cast out.
I love you breathlessly, my amazing man.
Lucky Beauty. Her beast was a man in beast trappings. Far scarier is a beast in the trappings of a man.
Tatiana: "Why did we spend two days fighting when we could have been doing this?" Alexander: "That wasn't fighting, Tatiana. That was foreplay.
War was the ultimate chaos, a pounding, soul-destroying snarl, ending in blown-apart men lying unburied on the cold earth. There was nothing more cosmically chaotic than war.
Ask yourself these three questions, Tatiana Metanova, and you will know who you are. Ask: What do believe in? What do you hope for? What do you love?
Tatiana said. "Go on with Dasha. She is right for you. She is a woman and I'm-" "Blind!", Alexander exclaimed. Tatiana stood, desolately failing in the battle of her heart. "Oh, Alexander. What do you want from me..." "Everything", he whispered fierc...
Alexander tilted his head and kissed her deeply on the lips. He let go of her hands, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. They kissed as if in a fever... they kissed as if the breath were leaving their bodies.
I'm not hungry," Alexander whispered. "I'm famished. Watch out for me. Now, don't make a single sound," he said, moving on top of her. "Tania, God....I'll cover your mouth, just like this, and you hold on to me, just like this, and I'm going to-just ...
That sounds silly, doesn't it? Running away just because you don't want to hurt somebody's feelings? But did you ever think how much of our lives we spend,dodging and twisting and making things difficult for ourselves, to avoid hurting somebody's fee...
If you're optimistic, think of it as bronze.
I'm not disappointed with bronze. It's always good to come away with a medal.
Bronze in the mirror of the form, wine of the mind.
Oh,to be walking through Leningrad white night after white night, the dawn to dusk all smelting together like platinum ore, Tatiana thought, turning away to the wall, again to the wall, the wall, as ever. Alexander, my nights, my days, my every thoug...
The best pastas are cut with bronze dies that give them a rough texture and allow the sauce to cling.
Nobody cares about the bronze or silver medals.
I would be happy with an Olympic bronze. What I don't have is an Olympic medal.
My dad was dean of fine arts at the university. I was casting bronzes in the school foundry. I was using the university as a playground.
Stone Age. Bronze Age. Iron Age. We define entire epics of humanity by the technology they use.
These guys are just flying through the air and I'm capturing them in the split second and putting it into a work of art, via clay to the bronze.
Convince yourself that you are working in clay, not marble, on paper not eternal bronze: Let that first sentence be as stupid as it wishes.
