When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.
A few years ago I dropped off the face of the earth. Then I came back the next day to pick it up. Unfortunately, it was stained red with love.
In the depths of my heart I can’t help being convinced that my dear fellow-men, with a few exceptions, are worthless.
I knew I was in love because I had butterflies in my stomach. Also in there I had flowers, a few rainbows, and leftover unicorn from the bbq the day before.
Unfortunately for the good sense of mankind, the fact of their fallibility is far from carrying the weight in their practical judgement, which is always allowed to it in theory; for while every one well knows himself to be fallible, few think it nece...
The sunken grave would fade away, probably in my lifetime. If I could avoid killer zombies for a few years. And vampires. And gun-toting humans. Oh, hell, the hot-spot would probably outlast me.
Now the tea began to do its work- as it always did- and the world that only a few minutes previously had seemed so bleak started to seem less so.
The years of his life had not been gentle, and there was something untamable about him; his eyes seemed to say everything and nothing at all, almost as if they spoke a dying language few could appreciate or even understand.
Men know the damage a few words can do to girls’ hearts, and, idiots that we are, we swoon away and fall into the trap, excited because at last a man has set one for us
If I could put it into a very few words, dear sir, I should say that our prevalent belief is in moderation. We inculcate the virtue of avoiding excesses of all kinds—even including, if you will pardon the paradox, excess of virtue itself.
Few living do." "Then, have I...I mean, am I-" "Oh, no, child! You are still very much alive! Though I may say, not as Alive as you might be if you had died.
Rather than arriving five hours late and flustered, it would be better all around if he were to arrive five hours and a few extra minutes late, but triumphantly in command.
I love writing, and the feeling it brings me can’t be described by words. So here are a few grunting noises that capture my mood when I write: ugh, eek, umph, and ahh!
Have regular hours for work and play; make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well. Then youth will bring few regrets, and life will become a beautiful success.
I tried to speak, to tell Kit I wasn't dead. No sound came out. But I managed to lift one arm a few inches and execute a tiny wave. Hello, still alive. In a fuck ton of pain, but not dead.
Please don't waste-away in front of a TV waiting to win a lottery during the precious few hours you are not imprisoned in corporate shackles.
To many, "The Bible is a form of verbal wallpaper, pleasant enough in the background, but he stop thinking about it after you have lived in the house for a few weeks.
It was a limitation of human consciousness: We live only in the future and past, we cannot perceive occupies no space, a hypothetical gap between future and past. Only an exceptional few could feel athletes and jazzmen and, yes, thieves...
You were born and with you endless possibilities, very few ever to be realized. It's okay. Life was never about what you do, but what you do.
There are not so many murders in this township, I think to myself, and not so few policemen, that a killing should be treated like an old woman who has lost her cat.
From long experience she knew that she wore her loneliness like armor. Very few people ever recognized it for what it was. To the casual observer it looked very much like arrogance. Sometimes it was.
