Rae burned me. She has matches or something. Look, look..." Tori pulled down the collar of her T-shirt. "Leave your cloths on, Tori," Simon said, raising his hands to his eyes. "Please.
How does a person perform nobly in Hell?" I asked her. "You plant flowers," she hissed. "You feed the birds, while they're burning...
There are times that one treasures for all one's life, and such times are burned clearly and sharply on the material of total recall. I felt very fortunate that morning.
I threw back my head, my hair falling about me like a great red curtain, and cried out. My eyes felt hot and burned with tears as my body trembled with the passion for blood.
I want him to burn for me, to not be able to go a day without touching me, holding me, caressing me. He’ll be an excellent lover. I want a man who knows how to please me,
And now, my poor old woman, why are you crying so bitterly? It is autumn. The leaves are falling from the trees like burning tears- the wind howls. Why must you mimic them?
If you think it is spiritual to burn food in front of starving people in hopes that your gods will bring this back to you in triplicate, you are missing the point and sowing animosity from all sides.
His eyes burned mine. “You just fight for what you want Katherine. The question is, how much do you want me?” Am I worth the fight? The question was implied and his eyes were begging me for assurance.
This (Earth) is hell. There are no fires, no burning pits of torment, no levels or rings or rivers of lava. When we die, we get put right back on earth to live our miserable existences over and over and over for all eternity.
We are ending where the savages began. We have found again the lost arts of starving non-combatants, burning hovels, and leading away the vanquished into slavery. Barbarian invasions would be superfluous: we are our own Huns.
He leaned toward me and delicately grazed my lips with his. The tease left me breathless, burning for more. “I keep having to remind myself that I can do that,” he smirked.
My hands fell asleep, so I washed them with hot coffee. Then I had donuts for breakfast, by way of spinning circles in my car and burning rubber in the parking garage of my office building.
The sun is a flower, and it burns my goddamn nostrils like the scent of love, which I haven’t tasted since I put on my midnight-black blindfold. I’m just naturally romantic, I guess.
The people who burned witches at the stake never for one moment thought of their act as violence; rather they thought of it as an act of divinely mandated righteousness. The same can be said of most of the violence humans have ever committed.
Look, fear's not always rational, okay? Anyway, there's a difference between being afraid and being a coward. At least there was one thing I could take comfort in: If you're afraid, you must still be a little human.
You can burn down the building, and I won’t interfere or criticize. I’ll just say, “Hey, man, I hope you brought marshmallows.
My imagination completely controls me, and forever feeds the fire that burns with dark red light in my heart by bringing me the best dreams. I've always had a wild imagination, a big heart and a tortured soul so I feel that dark fantasy, love and hor...
It was the security man’s nightmare scenario. In the face of death, why wouldn’t there be riots? Why wouldn’t there be killing and theft and rape? If there were no consequences – or if all the consequences were the same – then anything beca...
O, wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us, An' foolish notion.
There was this thing written that I had gone into a candle store, and my hair went up in flames because of all the hair spray. First of all, I never have hair spray in my hair, and I've never even heard of this store, and my hair has never been burne...
I can't tell you where a poem comes from, what it is, or what it is for: nor can any other man. The reason I can't tell you is that the purpose of a poem is to go past telling, to be recognised by burning.
