I have need of angels. Enough hell has swallowed me for too many years. But finally understand this--I have burned up one hundred thousand human lives already, from the strength of my pain.
And what is I was only supposed to burn for a certain amount of time?" I whispered. "What if I was only meant to shine for a while?" "Then you truly don't know what stars are meant to do." I looked at him in wonder. "They are meant to give us hope in...
Walking in the mountain with bare foot, Teasing the flowers with heavy soot, Touching the grasses, climbing the horses, swinging the girls It is joyful, jolly like the flying. Swimming in the rivers, tearing the clothes and burning the shoes Angel of...
Man can never be more perfect than the sun. The sun burns us with the same light that warms us. The sun has spots (stains). The ungrateful only talk about the spots (stains). The grateful talk about the light.
...it's been amazing- not perfect, but amazing. I'm actually glad of the nonperfection because that has made our relationship feel more grounded, solid, and real than what I had (...), which just cruised blithely along, deceptively perfect, until it ...
We all live in a house on fire, no fire department to call; no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped, locked in it.
You know what I like about you? You have no sense. You sit here in my house, you can barely hold a spoon, and you're telling me 'no'. You'd pull on Death's whiskers if you could reach them.
The Oracle rose. As one, the three witches bowed. "See?" Bran jerked his thumb at the three women. "That's how a woman should treat a man. Next time you see me, I want you to do just like them.
Derek favored his left side. His horse refused to bear him. I couldn't blame the horse. I wouldn't want his demonic, undead-blood-smeared, wolf-smelling ass riding me, either. But it made us slow.
Hey, would you look at that shit?" I turned on my heel. The patrons who’d fled at the first hint of trouble had come back and were enjoying the spectacle. "Clear out!" I barked. They paid me no mind. Asshole innocent bystanders.
When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up a...
If I stayed here, something inside me would be lost forever—something I couldn't afford to lose. It was like a vague dream, a burning, unfulfilled desire. The kind of dream people have only when they're seventeen.
What about stakes in the heart?" I asked now. He frowned, the center of his mouth pursed while its corners curled downward. "Anyone will die from a stake in the heart," he said. "And anyone will die if they're severely burned, including vampires.
Help me,” I sobbed. “I beg you, help me.” My eyes burned, but no tears came. I had lost the basic human ability to weep. Human…I am no longer human. “Destroy me. Take pity and send me on my way.
There is no darkness when I go to sleep; the wicked, as they say, never truly rest. I see blinding flashes of desperate arms reaching out, I hear cries for help over the crackling of burning wood, the ashen remains and the gut-wrenching smell of char...
But then the pastors and men of God can only be human,--cannot altogether be men of God; and so they have oppressed us, and burned us, and tortured us, and hence come to love palaces, and fine linen, and purple, and, alas, sometimes, mere luxury and ...
In the Middle Ages, cathendrals and convents burned like tinder; imagining a medieval story without a fire is like imagining a World War II movie in the Pacific without a fighter plane shot down in flames.
We stood as the ground shifted and we saw the view from below through tiled floors and concrete stairs, our feet burning holes in the foundation while you whispered of dreams.
It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words. That is, if it doesn't destroy us, if it doesn't burn away the optimism and the spirit, the capacity for visions, and the respect...
She wanted to stay out there, to hang on her branch in the world until the cold had burned down to her bones. She could leave her whitened bones scattered on the snow and depart like light. Whitened bones. A whited sepulcher.
I’ll tug at your breasts like a thirsty child. Try not to burn your nipples in my hot coffee. While you’re at it, I also like sugar in my coffee.
