My fingers burn behind the keys of my typewriter, the lettering fading with every thoughtful strike. The many words I write I dare not stall; my mind perpetually alert for my magnum opus call.
Toys have taken over my family room. I watch Mary Poppins, and no matter how many spoonfuls of sugar I eat, action figures won’t march into a bin with the snap of my fingers.
There's a certain logic to avoiding the haters, but as a strategy, it's utterly flawed. When you turn off the feedback, you lose the benefits as well as the drawbacks. It's like having a sore finger and cutting off your arm.
Life is not as easy as just picking a wild flower and calling it a rose,it is more tasking in the event that the very simple things on earth may overcome our finger's manipulative capacity and dexterity, that it cost us a lot
I'll be writing as long as I can hold a pen in my curled, crimped arthritic hands and then I'll dictate it, if it comes to that. They'll have to pry my pen out of my cold, dead fingers - and even then, I'll fight 'em for it. Guaranteed.
Dedication. DEDICATION. That is the only way to become a writer. Write every day. Write until your fingers bleed, your eyes bleed, your soul bleeds. From that blood, stories are born. It's worth it.
Housing associations have fingered the fact that they cannot use their assets as liquidity due to Bank of England rules unlike their continental equivalents. This has emerged to be one of the main bottlenecks to getting investment going in the U.K. I...
Tonight I've set my body on fire I've burned my fingers On your chest and abs And as the flame Continued consuming me I blew my air kisses All over you Until I've heard The explosion.
These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished. Memory fingers in their hair of murders Multitudinous murders they once witnessed. Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander, Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.
Catie Conrad, just because we think we deserve something, it doesn't mean God is going to allow it to happen in the snap of a finger.
Squinting she jutted a finger at the doctor. "You did use your mind control on me. When we met. You...brainwashed me just like the queen. You made me trust you" "Be fair. You were attacking me with a wrench.
Do they listen?" He held up a finger. "Every year does," he said, ginning, "But that one makes it worthwhile. Even Jesus only did twelve. I try to get one a year.
He crouched at the car window and looked in. 'What a lovely family you have. What a charming family. They're all lovely. Except for that one.' His finger jabbed the glass. 'That one's a bit ugly.
He looked down at my cup and his little, bony fingers started crawling towards it. I snatched it in front of him, pulling it closer to me. “Never. Touch. My. Coffee.”, my voice sounded colder than meant.
The finger of the atheists' own divinity, Reason, wrote on the wall the appalling judgments that there is no God; that the universe is only matter in spontaneous motion; and, most grievous word of all, that what men call their souls die with the deat...
My fingers positively itched to drift at length along their spines, to arrive at one whose lure I could not pass, to pluck it down, to inch it open, then to close my eyes and inhale the soul-sparking scent of old and literate dust.
She'd had little patience with darkness, and her heart held only a measure of shadow. I touched the warm dust of those colors, her tools, and left there with light on the tips of my fingers.
Can you be a girl for a few seconds?" "I'm always a girl" I frown. "You know what I mean. Like a silly, annoying girl" I twirl my hair around my finger. "Kay.
Who should I send for now?” Using the last of his strength, Sebastian managed to drag her hand up to his mouth. “You,” he whispered, holding her fingers to his lips. “Just you.
He pries me from his chest and drops his hand from the back of my head, tracing my ear, along my jawline. He snatches his fingers a moment before they press into my lip.
Mike took a deep breath and locked all his muscles in place, so he didn’t follow her. His fingers tingled where he had touched her skin, it was so soft, he’d never felt anything as soft.
