My head drops back and I have a fleeting out-of-body moment where I see myself in the window, my hands tied above my head with my legs wrapped around the neck of Chris Merit, while he does delicious things to my body.
I have done this—made the sad prince laugh. Made his grieving parents smile. None but me. Think you only kings have power? Stand on a stage and hold the hearts of men in your hands. Make them laugh with a gesture, cry with a word. Make them love yo...
My double drags his coffin, humble slave, I, at least, am real, though changed to flesh. Far-off, I build me a church no hand can shape ("Winter Sonnets: III")
You should really be more careful who you let put their hands on you.” A silky male voice hummed as hot, minty breath wafted around her ear and danced slowly across her nose. Sera inhaled deeply, her skin prickled with goose bumps.
Max never intended to be messy with his writing, which he could read just fine, years later if necessary, even if his teachers couldn’t. He merely found that his active mind tended to move too fast for his hand to keep up with.
You don't have to place your hand on Mary's heart to get strength and consolation and rescue, and all the other things we need to get through life. You can place it right here on your own heart. Your own heart.
We need to cry out to the Lord when we feel the waves of terror or anger crashing around us. He is always within reach, ready to stretch out his hand to steady us.
Caine usually woke from the recurring dream mid-air, having yet to be dashed upon the rocks, whimpering and panting like a child crying for his mother. Now he lifted his eyes to a dark, empty room in Jizan and the unusual, lingering scent of roses, a...
Merry Christmas!' someone shouted. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 'Merry Christmas!' 'Merry Christmas!' 'C-cookies for ever'body!' Sammy hollered. And looking both ways, they all fled across to the light, and the warmth, and the books, ...
I'd felt the pop of the needle sliding into my veins, like a fang into flesh. I'd been enveloped in the golden haze where nothing is wrong even when everything is falling apart. A dance with a hypodermic fiend, my hands in the claws of a vulture.
Every life has a purpose. The longest life has many stories to tell of the opportunities to witness God's hand. The shortest life holds the eternal treasure of impacting lives as a testimony of God's creation because of a precious heartbeat.
Ah! how little knowledge does a man acquire in his life. He gathers it up like water, but like water it runs between his fingers, and yet, if his hands be but wet as though with dew, behold a generation of fools call out, 'See, he is a wise man!' Is ...
I was not weak; I did not cry. But it hurt me, more in a kind of refreshing, thrilling way, than a kind of pain that would cripple me and send me away crying. My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands, and my teeth bit into my lips, my knees were...
Some primal force roared inside him, his possessive streak taking charge. He cupped the back of her head, her hair falling over the back of his hand like silk, and tightened his grip. The moment she softened against him, he took control.
It’s just snow,” Lesa said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not going to hurt you.” Kimmy smoothed her hands over her blond hair. “Sugar melts.” “Yeah, and shit floats.” Lesa took her seat, yanking out last night’s English homework.
Memory haunts me from age to age, and passion leads me by the hand--evil have I done, and with sorrow have I made acquaintance from age to age, and from age to age evil shall I do, and sorrow shall I know till my redemption comes.
Jason Alan Crest, nice to meet you.” Alexis took his hand and shook it, “Alexis Amora Anderson, nice to meet you, too.” “All A’s, huh?” Jason asked quirking his eyebrow at her. “Yeah, parents. What can you do?” Alexis said, giggling, ...
Condemnation feels good and it is now a staple of religion, politics, and the media (both left and right), but it changes nothing. Compassion, on the other hand, changes everything. (p. 121)
You shaved for this." "For you." He clutched her bare legs under her skirt, reminding her he still expected a traditional get-laid one night stand. She shoved his hands off her. "Maybe I wanted rough stubble." "By morning it will be all yours.
I wish I could draw you how I see you. I'd draw a boy with the most magnetic smile, and the kindest hands, and eyes that are gloomy, but can sometimes be bright. I'd draw a boy who deserves to see the ocean.
In my previous life I was a civil attorney. At one point I truly believed that was what I wanted to be- but that was before I'd been handed a fistful of crushed violets from a toddler. Before I understood that the smile of a child is a tattoo: indeli...
