Maybe, when you hear the name "Beverly," you think of Beverly Hills--people wandering the streets with their heads shot off by money.
It wasn’t just her beauty. It was the attitude in her smile, the tilt of her head, and the loving look in her eyes when she caught me sneaking a peek down her shirt.
You just don't have faith!" Frank repeated. "Well I hope I never get it! It's like being hit by a hammer in the head!
You know how hard it is to feel like an extreme falcon-headed combat machine when somebody calls you "chicken man"?
His eyes burned with intensity. I wondered briefly if someone he knew was being held in that cold room that smelled like death. Someone he loved?
My father says that there is only one perfect view — the view of the sky straight over our heads, and that all these views on earth are but bungled copies of it.
she shakes her head, fisting hands into my t-shirt and sobbing into my neck. And all I can think about is how good this feels
I promise not to hurt you, unless you try to take my shit. Then I'll twist your head off and hide it in a bush somewhere.
Twisted and perverse are the ways of the human mind," Jane intoned. "Pinocchio was such a dolt to try to become a real boy. He was much better off with a wooden head.
i wish cats could float around your head
Because all I could think about was you, Anna, and how good you are, and what you'd think of me. You put thoughts into my head a Neph shouldn't have!
Brandon tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Unbelievable. He had his name. God had given it. Just like Reece said he would.
She doesn't quite chop his head off. She makes a Pez dispenser out of him.
I searched my mind for the right visualization. I knew it had to start with what I put in my head. That is where all my accomplishments are formed.
Now I understand why you grow so many flowers." She shifted her head, not understanding. I said, "To cover the stink of sulphur.
My dear if you could give me a cup of tea to clear my muddle of a head I should better understand your affairs.
...there are more terrifying monstrosities in the world than Anthropophagi. Monstrosities who, with a smile and a comforting pat on the head, are willing to sacrifice a child upon the altar of their own overweening ambition and pride.
And he goes around killing people?” said Mort. He shook his head. “There’s no justice.” Death sighed. No, he said... there’s just me.
It’s going to be okay, Eric," Urte said, helping me sit up. I shook my head. "Lying is my forte, Urte, not yours.” (Eric.)
You said sloppy! Look, I didn't even use my sword; I hit him with my head, like a moron.
My doppelganger wraps the ear in a handkerchief and shoves it into his pocket as he leaves the train with a nod of his head in my direction.” William Wilson in the short story 'Metro' by Steen Langstrup
