Under her thick pancake makeup, her skin had been pockmarked, but he would stare at her adoringly from his cot at night and imagine her scars were constellations, a secret map to a far-off, happy place.
Under her thick pancake makeup, her sin had been pockmarked, but he would stare at her adoringly from his cot at night and imagine her scars were constellations, a secret map to a far-off, happy place.
If you can’t see the feelings in a donkey, a ship, or a delicate tool, then it’s just as easy to not see them in your brother or sister when you can profit by treating them badly.
Joss's ears perked up. He loved libraries. Nowhere else in the world felt so safe and homey. Nowhere else smelled like books and dust and happy solitude quite like a library did.
A happy clown inside spat out a pig-in-a-blanket and yelled at the cute waitress holding the tray. … I had to throw up but other than the banker’s suit forcing its way onto Elise’s face there really wasn’t an appropriate place for it.
I expected you to look... content, happy even, after your alone time with Sammi, not all mopey and depressed. You didn't screw up, did you? Don't all Kings make love perfectly?
So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.
You need to figure out what you want, Josh. If that means you need to swim against the tide to get it, at least youre aiming for something that could make you very happy.
I'm under strict instructions to write a happy ending. Rule number ninety-seven: You're not allowed to make a dragon cry." "Right," Said Sophie, starting the engine. "Tears might quench their fire.
But we have to learn to be free. We have to, Nell. Doesn't mean happy all the time, or okay all the time. It’s okay not to be okay. I told you that, but I'm relearning it myself. But not being okay doesn't mean you stop living.
I'm happy for the kid and everything, but how the fuck does Lio get a friend before me? I live here. 'I told you I could do it :)' Lio IMs me. I want to rip out that smiley's eyes.
("It's crazy," she'd said, "but I'd be perfectly happy if I could sit looking at the same half dozen paintings for the rest of my life. I can't think of a better way to go insane.")
And, lying on my bed in some biscuit-colored hotel room in Nice, with a balcony facing the Promenade des Anglais, I watch the clouds reflected on sliding panes and marvel even how my sadness can make me happy . . .
Your true love for God is demonstrated through your ability to hold onto your faithfulness in the midst of Prosperity and Poverty, Happiness and Hardships, Sickness and Success; in whatever is Appealing or Appalling!
Oh, I have always been proud, I always wanted all or nothing! You see it was just because I am not one who will accept half a happiness, but always wanted all
Sometimes when you're young, you have moments of such happiness, you think you're living on someplace magical, like Atlantis must have been. Then we grow up and our hearts break into two.
It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched for they are full of the truthless ideal which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real, they ar...
Misuse of reason might yet return the world to pre-technological night; plenty of religious zealots hunger for just such a result, and are happy to use the latest technology to effect it.
I know women are supposed to stand on their own and all. I get that. But every once in a while it doesn't hurt to wish for a fairy godmother, a little magic, and a happy ending.
The French always make our sort happy because, like us, they know how to love, they're just as good at playing the accordion, and they've made a real art of their inability to bake proper bread.
The flawlessly beautiful were flawlessy happy, weren't they? To Kristy this had always seemed self-evident. Tonight, however, the alcohol made her wonder if envy hadn't blinded her. Perhaps to be flawless was another kind of sadness.
