Digression is the soul of wit. Take the philosophic asides away from Dante, Milton or Hamlet's father's ghost and what stays is dry bones.
For, let's face it, digression is the soul of wit. Take philosophic asides away from Dante, Milton or Hamlet's father's ghost and what stays is dry bones.
I want a love as deep as the sea, A love that will forever carry me, Away....Where I can go far away from this land...to forget about the love I lost in the sand.
Maybe pulling her emotions out and inserting in his logic would change this morbid course. But damn if he’d joke about it like she did.
Sometimes she is struck by how much she goes through life almost unconsciously. She is being swept along. She is a pale ghost.
You think of travellers as bold, but our guilty secret is that travel is one of the laziest ways on earth of passing the time.
Stop using him, and start protecting him. I know he thinks he doesn't need it, but sometimes he does. Sometimes we all do.
Michael had to pound me a couple of times to convince me not to go stage a rescue." Shane shrugged. "He hits like a girl, for a vampire.
See?" she heard Shane yell at the kitchen. "She doesn't stomp around like a cattle stampede!" "Bite me, Collins! No bacon for you, either!
I had a good teacher." "Better not have been Myrnin or I'll have to kick his predatory ass." "I mean you, dummy.
Nobody's cut out for this town," Shane said. "Nobody sane anyway." "Says the kid who came back." "Yeah, kind of proves my point.
You're much shorter than my mom." "Brat," she said, surprised into a giggle. "That's no way to talk to a vampire." "Bloodsucking brat." "Better" he said.
I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive.
Let him join the men of the past. Her old lovers were ghosts. None of them had survived; none were missed.
You are accompanied through life, Emily Jesse occasionally understood, not only by the beloved and accusing departed, but by your own ghost too, also accusing, also unappeased.
Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat in this distracted globe. Remember thee?
And then it hits me like a fast, open-palmed, stinging smack in the face. Having a ghost boyfriend WAS weird
Each year the world Rich lived in felt more and more like a huge electronic haunted house in which digital ghosts and frightened human beings lived in uneasy coexistence.
She was alive. She was alive, and she had found her power — or it had found her. Tomorrow’s problems she’d take care of tomorrow.
She is a loner, too bright for the slutty girls and too savage for the bright girls, haunting the edges and corners of the school like a sullen disillusioned ghost
A weapon needs a wielder; it should not be permitted to start its own fights." "You are not my wielder; you are naught, a forgotten ghost, not even a memory." "Maybe, but you are still a weapon.
