Will!" Charlotte threw up her hands. "Why didn't you say so?" "You know, the books on demon pox are in the library," Will said with an injured tone. "I wasn't preventing anyone from reading them
Don’t start. I saw Marcie climb inside your Jeep.” “She needed a ride.” I adopted a hands-on-hips pose. “What kind of ride?” “Not that kind of ride,” he said slowly.
The conventional parabola--sentiment, the touch of the hand, the kiss, the passionate kiss, the feel of the body, the climax in the bed, then more bed, then less bed, then the boredom, the tears and the final bitterness--was to him shameful and hypoc...
Do you always touch strangers?” I question, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand and the way I have to remember to breathe. “You’ve been upgraded to acquaintance,” he winks. “This is completely appropriate.
She reminded him of (...) all the shivering, stupefying misery in a world that never yet had provided enough heat and food and justice for all but an ingenious and unscrupulous handful. What a lousy earth!
But that’s life right? It’s just a shitty hand of cards. But then maybe somebody pulls out an Ace, and somebody else gets a four, or a ten. It’s all in the draw and how you play it.
You can’t keep your feet on the ground, hoping to enjoy the fruits of your labour. The fruits are on the top; keep climbing till you pluck them with your hands!
There is no way to your personal joy if you hand over the keys to someone who is not ready to open the door for you. You have the right to choose your friends; do it carefully!
Shake hands with today; it is here already. Bid farewell to yesterday; it’s gone already. Never let yesterday’s pain rob you of today’s gains. Drive yourself positively!
Idle hands are the devils greatest tools. But it’ll be good to notice that the tools sharpened by idle heads. You are idle because that’s the job your mind gave you!
Old people, who have felt blows and toil and known the world's hard hand, need, even more than children do, a woman's tenderness.
My friends," he began, and one thumb securely hooked itself in his waistcoat pocket while his other hand hung at his side ready for a battery of theatrical gestures.
One hand was behind his back, and he held it out, presenting a bouquet of white and smoky purple lilies. “They’re straight from the underworld, by the way. They are everlasting. They won’t die.
Dis seker hoekom mens 'n beste vriendin moet hê, dink ek terwyl ek saam haar stap. Om jou hand vas te hou as jy uitmekaarval
When the brain thinks positively, the hands work positively, the legs run positively and the individual becomes a positive wholesome entity.
Failure becomes success when it finds positive minds; Tragedy becomes melody when it lands in positive hands. With positivity, possibility is assured!
The greatest madness a man can be guilty of in this life, is to let himself die outright, without being slain by any person whatever, or destroyed by any other weapon than the hands of melancholy
Does it make you brave to stick your hand in a bear's mouth? Would you do it again just because you didn't die?
Once, I remember, Father Abbot said that our purpose is justice, and with God lies the privilege of mercy. But even God, when he intends mercy, needs tools to his hand.
your handwriting. the way you walk. which china pattern you choose. it's all giving you away. everything you do shows your hand. everything is a self portrait. everything is a diary.
Don't panic. Say, Hey, no problem. Run a hand through your hair like the whiteboys do even though the only thing that runs easily through your hair is Africa.
