When I make love to you, Lanie, I want you to feel every inch of me buried deep inside of you, loving you, worshiping your body...
I'm seventeen today and dressed for a party. But I can't move. I can't think, much less move. I can't breathe, much less think. This is the moment when my life will change forever.
I tried to look at writing a song almost like solving a mystery. The song was there, buried somewhere in my brain. All I had to do was follow the clues until I figured it out.
We don’t know anything about silent sages, buried knowledge, the eye of the mute poet, serene seers, yet how many talkative destroyers, prophets and ideologues, teachers and beautifiers there are on the other side.
I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.
First, you must be certain that you are ready for knowledge. There are many things that we bury in our minds for a reason. Are you sure that you want to go digging up the past?”- Elsie (Marked Book #1) page 226
I guess whoever built and buried that IED out there in the desert will never know how far that blast traveled. But all things ripple out, cause shrapnel.
I am the archaeologist of love. I’m digging for the bones of a loved one I shot and buried decades ago.
Thousands of people are being buried and no one attends the funerals,' said one of the soldiers. 'In peacetime it's the other way round: one coffin and a hundred people carrying flowers.
Language has not the power to speak what love indites The soul lies buried in the Ink that writes
The best way to dig yourself out of a hole, is with a dead guy’s fingernails. Then, once you’re out of the hole, finish burying that dead guy before the cops arrive.
She had not remembered then what she remembers now, a memory like something buried in river silt that finally works free and rises to the surface...
I want to fill my mind with life-enhancing, positive, beautiful memories. The dark experiences can remain buried without a funeral.
She was a goddess personified, her breasts so soft and round he could've buried his head between them, suffocated, and died a happy man.
When I was a child people simply looked about them and were moderately happy; today they peer beyond the seven seas, bury themselves waist deep in tidings, and by and large what they see and hear makes them unutterably sad.
As her analyst had told her: the deeper buried the distress, the further into the body it went. The digestive system was about as far as it could go to hide.
And so we must dig in to see where raw words and fundamental sounds are buried so that the great silence within can finally be decoded.
A body can't run from what they done. They carry it with them inside. It fester and spread like poison if it's buried. It gotta be out in the air where it can heal.
I just got done digging a hole shaped like a human body. But I have no idea what to bury. I’ll probably hide all my love for you, like I would with any other treasure.
As we all know, many people remain buried under tons of rubble and debris, waiting to be rescued. When we think of their suffering, we feel deeply and profoundly that we should be there, in Haiti, with them, trying our best to prevent death.
You twitch as the darkness moves in and out of you. It crawls up your spine and nestles in your brain like an evil thought from out of nowhere, burying itself in your psyche like a starving leech looking for a vein.
