My asshole smells like burnt firewood, and I’ve got firemen calling me. But I won’t answer, because my answer is no, they can’t take me out on a date.
Joy, I think, is the main fruit of the Spirit missing among Christians, and peace and self-control are the main fruits or qualities that seem to be missing among those who are not Christian.
Two whores who finally found something to mother. A guy could write a book about it, he thought bitterly, call it . It would probly be a very long book. Whores did not produce as fast as rabbits.
When sometimes, behind his back, they called him a tyrant, he merely smiled and uttered this profound observation: "If some day I turn liberal, they will say I have let them down.
The fridge had been emptied of all Dudley’s favorite things — fizzy drinks and cakes, chocolate bars and burgers — and filled instead with fruit and vegetables and the sorts of things that Uncle Vernon called “rabbit food.
Once an idea is out and about, it can't be called back, silenced or erased. You can't contain it, any more than you could put the head of a dandelion back together after the wind has scattered its seeds.
Kitten, this is my best mate, Charles, but you can call him Spade. Charles, this is Cat, the woman I’ve been telling you about. You can see for yourself that everything I’ve said is…an understatement.
For the first time in his life he understood why the Bible called sex "knowing". Everything was different. Now he Dante. He'd known Dante. And wonder of wonders, Dante had known him right back.
I called Vee. "How are you doing?" I asked. "Good. How are you?" "Good." Silence. "Okay," Vee said in a rush, "I am still totally freaked out. You?" "Totally.
Dad was a philosopher and had what he called his Theory of Purpose, which held that everything in life had a purpose, and unless it achieved that purpose, it was just taking up space on the planet and wasting everybody's time.
For me the thing that signals a great story is what we might call its autonomy, the fact that it detaches itself from its author like a soap bubble blown from a clay pipe.
There is a force that drives everything in this universe; you may call it anything you like, names that fit in tongue; when you're close to it, you have the power to do anything.
They had engaged in what could not be called treatment or even discussion, but open combat, the two of them a microcosm of the great war raging in the far distance: one side that desired autonomy, and the other that took independence as a sign of mad...
It was clearly a lot more difficult in the field than in the office, where you could keep your distance and maintain a calculated composure. Being faced with real people was a far tougher call on one’s judgement.
These guys may not talk too much about relationships, but they sure do blush at telling moments, don’t they? Maybe that’s the key to understanding the opposite sex; I could invent a science, call it blushology.
Aristocracy's only an admission that certain traits which we call fine - courage and honor and beauty and all that sort of thing - can best be developed in a favorable environment, where you don't have the warpings of ignorance and necessity.
Ah college years, those were the days. Pure freedom ... leaving home for the first time…the parties…” "What about the tutorials, the lectures, the large building with all the books called the ‘library’?” “Is that what those were?” Ger...
I love you," he murmurs. "Can you feel that? You. Not some destiny I think I'm called to. You. I'm with you. My strength. My soul. My heart. Feel it.
Some women bristle, in certain contexts, at being called female: it seems to focus exclusively on the reproductive system, and makes you feel like a chicken, all thighs and breasts.
I told myself that some families we get without asking, while others we choose. And I chose those two. I think that’s what you’d call a silver lining.
The "Fatal Female Flaw." It's when ordinarily sensible women fall madly in love with an unattainable man who can't or won't love them back. I also call it the Triple Fucked Factor. Rosslyn
