but in the city in which I love you, no one comes, no one meets me in the brick clefts; in the wedged dark, no finger touches me secretly, no mouth tastes my flawless salt, no one wakens the honey in the cells, finds the humming in the ribs, the rich...
Jazz is the music of the body. The breath comes through brass. It is the body’s breath, and the strings’ wails and moans are echoes of the body’s music. It is the body’s vibrations which ripple from the fingers. And the mystery of the withhel...
You are so wet,” you enthuse. “See how much you love to be punished, little one?” “Yes, sir,” I whimper, physically fighting the urge to push myself back onto your finger. I want you inside me so much. I would beg if I thought you’d take ...
There are a lot of bad things out there. Things the Hounds of Heaven were created to destroy." He trailed his finger down the side of my face. "I can't be the hero you want me to be--at least not in that way. But you can, Grace. You don't have to bec...
I just want some time, Mikhail, to think things through. It’s frightening, the way I am about you. I think about you every minute; I want to touch you, just to know I can, to feel you beneath my fingers. It’s as if you crawled into my head and my...
There's no way on God's green earth that I'm dressing up like Mr. Darcy." Brooks stretched out on Caroline's bed, hanging his suede wing tips off the edge and crossing his ankles. He laced his fingers behind his head and looked infuriatingly cool and...
What is vital and healthy does not necessarily survive... An art, a whole civilization, may at any time slip through men's fingers in a very few years and be gone beyond recovery. If we are alive when such a thing is happening we shall hardly notice ...
This is the sixty-nine," I told him, presenting the magazine in front of him. I put my fingers -- two of them -- on the action, so that he would not overlook it. "Why is it dubbed sixty-nine?" he asked, because he is a person hot on fire with curiosi...
What are you doing with all these books?" I asked, stepping towards a tall stack on the floor. I ran my fingers down the spines, recognizing a few familiar titles from School: Heart of Darkness, The Great Gatsby, and To the Lighthouse. Caleb came bes...
His shirt is rumpled. His fingers, long and slender, are stained yellow at the tips from smoking. His mind is always on something else. My mind is busy, too, reading every cue and signal, keeping track of all the things that cannot be discussed, that...
I wished the kiss could have gone on forever. Breaking the embrace, he ran a few fingers through my hair and down my cheek. He stepped back toward the door. "I'll see you later, Roza" "At our next practice?" I asked. "We are starting those up again, ...
The sight made her ache. she thought hopelessly, and then she was doing it, her fingers on his wrist. He didn't jump or even look at her, just stopped writing. Neither one of them moved, nothing moved, and the whole thing lasted three or four seconds...
The Christian life is not about pleasing God the finger-shaker and judge. It is not about believing now or being good now for the sake of heaven later. It is about entering a relationship in the present that begins to change everything now. Spiritual...
He was the kind of man you didn’t notice at first…but then found yourself staring. There was something…something she’d never been able to put her finger on…that inspired a double, triple, quadruple look. He was forever lurking in corners wi...
Here," Myrnin said, his voice still gentle and low. "Amelie said you had to work. No one said you had to work alone." He picked up the next part and slotted it in, took the screwdriver from Claire's numbed fingers, and fastened it with a couple of de...
There is a flow to history and culture. This flow is rooted and has its wellspring in the thoughts of people. People are unique in the inner life of the mind -- what they are in their thought-world determines how they act. This is true of their value...
But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim’s place, and now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips a...
To remember love after long sleep; to turn again to poetry after a year in the market place, or to youth after resignation to drowsy and stiffening age; to remember what once you thought life could hold, after telling over with muddied and calculatin...
He chuckles and the rumble feels decadent as he takes one breast into his mouth, teasing the nipple with his tongue. My hips start to swivel, my need for sensation growing. I run my fingers through his hair, throwing my head back to press my breasts ...
The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see the writing as emerging like a long...
His fingers lightly grazed my cheek. "I didn't know you before. When you're not there, I can't concentrate. I'm wondering where you are, what you're doing...if you're there and I can see you, I can see you, I can focus. I know it's crazy, but that's ...
