Dream is the personalized myth, myth the depersonalized dream; both myth and dream are symbolic in the same general way of the dynamic of the psyche. But in the dream the forms are quirked by the peculiar troubles of the dreamer, whereas in myth the ...
Yes, they have to have a victor. Without a victor, the whole thing would blow up in the Gamemakers' faces. They'd have failed the Capitol. Might possibly even be executed, slowly and painfully, while the cameras broadcast it to every screen in the co...
The light on her face was a lesson, a book that she hoped he would want to read, but he looked away from her...she did not want this man to leave her alone. He was kind. And she feared the loneliness of dreaming
Are you gloating inside? That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting me to trust you so you could blow it up in my face!" [...] "I get that you're angry—," said Patch. "I am ripped apart!" I shouted.
Why are you staring at my boobs? My face is up here,” Trudy exclaims. Jack, the hotel employees, and I jump back like we’ve been electrocuted while the seniors don’t skip a beat. No. She. Didn’t. These geriatric devils are so bad.
As I walked inside, she turned around and headed for the end of the bed. Then she paused and turned to face me. She was wearing her Orchard Hill basketball T-shirt and sweatpants and she looked tired, but beautiful.
The World is full of pain,suffering and many situations we never want to face. Truth is we must overcome it all to move on to better,brighter days in our lives.Overcoming is the only way we can.
The archive of supposed photocopies (I.E. memory) actually offers up strange creatures; the green paradise of childhood loves that Baudelaire recalled is for many a future in reverse, an obverse of hope in the face of the gray purgatory of adult love...
My book, Ambassador Book one: how to take on the world and win will help to illuminate many of the obstacles that we all must face in order to succeed. You are invited on a journey of personal discovery.
I wonder if everyone who faces death hurts like this. It's as though for the first time I realize how much just being alive makes my body ache. But I don't want that ache to stop.
Why won’t you look at me?” she murmurs. He doesn’t speak, seemingly at a loss for words. “It’s my scars.” It comes out as barely a whisper. Horror spasms across his face. “What? No,” he says, a bit breathless. “You’re beautiful. A...
Face it,' I said. 'There is no true life. Your true life is the one you end up with, whatever it may be. You just do the best you can with what you've got,' I said.
Stephen's face in the extremity of climax was a thing of such perfection that Anthony wished to commit it to memory before remembering, with a strange sort of wonder, that he need commit it to memory, that it was something he might have at any time, ...
You won't find your soul in a textbook, self-help book, or buy it in a store. Sometimes, it's just a matter of looking past the anger, regret, and envy to see its smiling face.
The twin guardian angels whose eyes and hands and wings had focused protective attention on the souls that lay there no longer faced each other. They stared blindly into a random middle distance. The scroll they held between them proclaiming eternal ...
I read a book, am vortexed in with no escape; my face contorts, eyelids frost, breath comes short, body longs, heart stop-starts. Who’s to say too much won’t kill me? Who’s to say I care?
That is not what I was saying, you crazy twit!" Kylie faced her with a growl, causing Kat to reach over and smack her on the upper arm...hard, "Cut its out! You don not get to play the I'm-so-dark-and- twisty-I-deserve-to-be-punished card.
I love you, I thought. But I didn’t say it. It was not that I feared she would laugh in my face. She was far too kind for that. My fear was a greater one— that she won’t say it back.
For now, Lady Queen," he said, "allow us to continue to obey you. But give us honorable instructions, Lady Queen," he said, turning a flushed face to hers. "Ask us to do honorable things, so that we may have the honor of obeying you.
Her breast was young, the nipples rosy. Cosimo just grazed it with his lips, before Viola slid away over the branches as if she were flying, with him clambering after her, and that skirt of hers always in his face
Most women beg me to lick them, and I give it to you for free and you push me away,” he said with a fake pout on his face. “You’re crazy.” I giggled “I’m the good kind of crazy, though.
