True love is taking the risk that it won't be a happily-ever-after. True love is joining hands with the man who loves you for who you are, and saying, "I'm not afraid to believe in you.
It never dawned on us that life is unpredictable, that one day, one of us could suddenly cease to exist and what then? What would be the joy in having left so much unsaid? With what memories would we fill the empty silence?
Jessica's hand flew to her mouth. If she had any doubt, the next entry settled it. She read on, cool beads of sweat trickling down the back of her neck, hardly daring to breathe as the black heart of Ormsby Island came closer and closer into focus.
Jacksonville is the friendliest city in the world. Test it out for yourself and see. Walk in to any public Men’s room and step up to a stranger at a urinal and introduce yourself and offer to shake his hand. You’ll soon know what it means to meet...
Immodest creature, you do not want a woman who will accept your faults, you want the one who pretends you are faultless – one who will caress the hand that strikes her and kiss the lips that lie to her."
I fit my mouth to his and he tastes like water and smells like fresh air. I drag my hand from his neck to the small of his back and put it under his shirt. He kisses me harder.
Asta Sollilja slept on, her head in the corner, mouth open, chin up, and head back, with one hand under her ear and the other half-open on the coverlet as if she thought in her sleep that someone would come and lay happiness in her palm.
I thought he knew me better than most...Then one nigh Jack brought me flowers, a handful of fading daisies he'd picked up at a farm stand, but flowers all the same. That was the end; that was how he ruined everything.
Only LEFT and RIGHT hand can hold each other and walk together...Only RIGHTs are enough to say bye. Nobody is perfect in the world, if you Love the perfection of his/her imperfections then LOVE exists.
Well helloooo, Big Ben,” Tim purred, still holding Ben’s hand in his. “It’s mighty neighborly of you to drop by. If you’re ever in need of some sugar, feel free to knock on my back door. I’d be happy to fit you in.
Oh, my dear Vimes, history changes all the time. It is constantly being re-examined and re-evaluated, otherwise how would we be able to keep historians occupied? We can't possibly allow people with their sort of minds to walk around with time on thei...
He took my hand, made me stand on the branch and asked, "What can you see from here?" "Nothing" I said, "Know what I can see? From this distance everything is so bloody perfect".
No wonder kids grow up crazy. A cat's cradle is nothing but a bunch of X's between somebody's hands, and little kids look and look and look at all those X's . . ." "And?" "No damn cat, and no damn cradle.
Jack’s face was now buried in his hands, his elbows still on his knees, and he hunched as he fisted his hair. “Ezra?” Evidence of his anguish to come was unmistakable in the catch of his voice. Ezra’s was solid. “Yes?” “Don’t let me k...
I happened to look up and there it was. All over and done with, at last. I sat on for a few moments with the ball in my hand and the dog yelping and pawing at me. (Pause.) Moments. Her moments, my moments (Pause.) The dog's moments.
The ultimate story of success: When a nobody, who has never once in his entire life known the feeling of being remembered or respected, suddenly snaps and becomes a world dictator. On one hand it sounds just, but on the other, it illustrates the reas...
As a poet there is something about joy I find hard to express, whereas every other emotion is rather simple. For instance, you never feel so bad that you can't describe how bad you feel, but joy on the other hand is far too divine for human language.
The day I die, I’ll be too busy thinking to notice” he waved his hand as he left the ship. - Nelson Moon, shipwright and designer of the Altered Moon. Current location: Cantankerous Base, Planet Tarris, Arzian Alliance
Kyle must have seen my panic, because when I looked up at him again, his jacket and shirt were off and he was handing me his shirt. The sight of him with no shirt on hit me. Holy hell, what was he doing?
A parcel--taken from one place to another, handed from one owner to another, unwrapped and bundled up at will--is all that I am. A vessel, for the bearing of sons, for one nobleman or another: it hardly matters who.
He realized with sudden clarity that the power axis in a conflict shifted once your adversary had heard you plead for divine intervention while her hands and mouth and body brought you to screaming climax on her kitchen table.
