I was caught by him. I was absolutely, unintentionally ensnared. Held by the look in his cocoa brown eyes when he spoke, commanding me. I shivered at his words as if they were touches sliding down my spine.
Whenever he felt like giving up, plopping himself down, and dying (which was, like, every ten minutes), he reached over and took her hand, just to remember there was warmth in the world.
The Earth suffers when her children suffer!The world must work in unity to help FREE Tibet of it's suffering from the bloodstained hands of CHINA! Humanity Must SAVE Tibet!
When she stopped kissing him his hand went to her waist to pull her back. the sun beat down on us. The day quivered. The sky was as deep as the ocean. We breathed underwater.
Kiril sat up and raked a hand through his hair. In the light of dawn, Shara was still on his mind. She was a Dark, a spy sent to monitor a spy.
Stop wasting your time with people who don’t value your help or who you are. They take with one hand & disrespect you with the other. Move on with your life.
This is a place where books are treasured – books that hold the sweetly magical smell of history; books that crackle when you open them and sigh when you close them; books that weigh heavy in your hands, not just your heart.
Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know--because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.
A spark of fiery hunger shot through her as he took over, completely dominating the kiss, his tongue invading her mouth. His hand slid back and cupped her head in that way she loved. Craved.
In my book, the media are a necessary evil: they live off the animal inside us, they bait the front pages with second-hand blood for the hyenas to snuffle up, but they come in useful enough that you want to stay on their good side.
My father might not have held my hand or expressed his love openly, but he taught Callie and me that we had inherent values, that we were fully formed human beings without a boy by our side.
He is forced to coin words himself, and, taking his pain in one hand, and a lump of pure sound in the other (as perhaps the people of Babel did in the beginning), so to crush them together that a brand new word in the end drops out.
My heart beats so hard, I feel like I have an earthquake inside of me. It's weighing me down and my hands shake with the need of safety and comfort.
I gotta hand it to ya, Tristan. You may be a world-class fuckup with what you done to Lisa, but you got taste, man. You got good taste.
Neva ought to smile more. It breaks her anxiety into tiny pieces of joy you want to gather up and hand back to her in your palms, as if to say, “See what you can make when you loose the reins.
...Despite the mayhem that followed, Bruno found that he was still holding Shmuel's hand in his own and nothing in the world would have persuaded him to let go.
You can only fight what you are for so long. Eventually the hand that nature has dealt you will make you become what you were meant to be. You have no control over it.
When he reached her, he touched a hand to her face. Smiled. " . That's one word. . That's another. ," he said, adding the most important word of all. "God, Darcy, you are so loved.
Just be careful, hon,” Rosanna said. “Oh, are the plates hot?” I flinched back just before my hands made contact. Rosanna laughed. “No, but hot boys can burn you just as easily.
He put his forehead against hers. “Alannah, my heart is yours.” He said softly. “And yet, I must hand it over to someone else for the keeping.” Her last words falling to a strained whisper.
As an improviser, I always find it jarring when I meet someone in real life whose first answer is no. “No, we can’t do that.” “No, that’s not in the budget.” “No, I will not hold your hand for a dollar.” What kind of way is that to li...
