Tell me when it's over " Thalia said. Her eyes were shut tight. The statue was holding on to us so we couldn't fall but still Thalia clutched his arm like it was the most important thing in the world. "Everything's fine " I promised. "Are... are we v...
Epitaph. Not next year, not the next one, Not the year after that. But ages From here, Clad in love stained sleeping bags, Dying with feet wrapped in endless Shirts and pillow cases, Crumbling with 99 flakes clutched Between thumb and palm, dripping ...
On the day I swore to uphold the Hippocratic oath, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I waited for lightning to strike. Who was I, vowing calmly among all these necktied young men to steal life out of nature's jaws, every old time we ...
He seized me as boldly as a tiger captures his prey. There was no escape. And I didn't want to. I would have happily died in his clutches. I was his, and he made sure I knew it. My heart burst with a thousand beautiful blooms, all tiger lilies. And I...
If you want help in starting to write memoirs, you don't want to fall into the clutches of a famous writer who has been hired to teach at a writing workshop solely because of his name's ability to attract students, rather than because of any teaching...
The same sensitivity that opens artists to Being also makes them vulnerable to the dark powers of non-Being. It is no accident that many creative people--including Dante, Pascal, Goethe, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Beethoven, Rilke, Blake, and Van Gogh--...
[seeing Toothless down, with Hiccup nowhere in sight] Stoick: [kneeling beside Toothless] Oh, son... I did this. [Toothless stirs and opens his eyes, looking at Stoick] Stoick: I'm s... I'm so sorry. [Toothless rolls to the side and lifts his wings, ...
Gonzo: He was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scr... [noticing the smudged window of Scrooge's office] Gonzo: Boy, this really *is* a dirty city! Rizzo the Rat: Heh, you're tellin' me! [Gonzo grabs Rizzo and uses him to wipe off the window pan...
WE two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going, North and South excursions making, Power enjoying, elbows stretching, fingers clutching, Arm'd and fearless, eating, drinking, sleeping, loving. No law less than...
Passers-by, Out of your many faces Flash memories to me Now at the day end Away from the sidewalks Where your shoe soles traveled And your voices rose and blent To form the city’s afternoon roar Hindering an old silence. Passers-by, I remember lean...
The music glides between the pores of your skin to bubble through your veins in place of blood, and you can't help but clutch the mic with both trembling hands and let the song flow out of you like blood from a wound. In those moments, when the music...
She led him to the top of the stairs, where light came straight from the sky because the second-story windows of that house had been placed in the pitched ceiling and not the walls. There were two rooms and she took him into one of them, hoping he wo...
Can we get out of here?" "Your chariot awaits." "In the form of a blue Ford ute?" I curved my brow. "But of course," he said in an over-the-top French accent. "Sacre blur, bad accent alert!" "Wow," he said, "Le rude?" "Le sorry?" "Le hurt." Toby clut...
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but...
One probably hears about it. One, wire, recognizes. One holds her bones up next to each other. One insists, grinding the clutch. One would powder and powder. One would ask out of the back of the throat. One refuses. One is so sad. One is helpful all ...
The music department is going to do a musical next year," he tells me, rolling his eyes like I would. Justine is running toward me, and I can tell by the look on her face that she's found out about the musical, too. I sigh, shaking my head. "I have t...
Tell me something good about your life," I whispered, needing to hear that he wasn't as broken as I thought him to be. Peter breathed into the handset for about two minutes. I began wondering if he was about to hang up, or had fallen asleep, when he ...
Remember when only a few people had mobile phones. Generally regarded as an object of derision, you would occasionally see business types clutching those ridiculous grey bricks to their faces and mutter to yourself 'what a prick.' Nowadays, an eyebro...
It took me a moment to realize but I was having an epiphany. I was standing in the middle of Times Square wearing nothing but purple tennis sneakers with the laces pulled out, clutching an empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand and a shit-eating...
To count the stones losing count is the sense of our life: the algebra of our displacements. To follow paths losing sense is the circumvolution, the evolution: the logic of our moments. But. No. There is no symmetry in our acts. Never the chance of s...
And I shuddered at the apparent freedom so many women felt simply to take what they wanted without regard for other women's feelings. It was as though we were all crazed customers at some kind of year-end shoe sale, shoving our fellow females out of ...
