I fell back into my favorite chair and tucked my hands between my knees to stop them from shaking. I sucked in a deep breath, held it, and marveled at my own transformation into a ridiculous ninny.
Then I wanted to sick up the gluey pie I'd had before the start of the evening, But I couldn't stand the sort of veshch, sicking all over the floor, so I held it back.
There was something in her eyes that made me trust her. Maybe it was because they held the same cynicism, the same world-weariness I saw in my own every morning when I looked at myself in the mirror.
[Friendship] is a relationship that has no formal shape, there are no rules or obligations or bonds as in marriage or the family, it is held together by neither law nor property nor blood, there is no glue in it but mutual liking. It is therefore rar...
I just find it interesting that kids apparently used to cry when Bambi's mother died. George and I both held our breaths, and then cheered when she didn't reanimate and try to eat her son.
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.
All that he had of her was his memory, where he held every moment, every single moment that she had been his. That was all he had, to keep out the loneliness.
Fenworth owned a world-famous library. More rooms held books than beds. Pillows stuffed in niches and comfortable chairs scattered throughout each room offered abundant paces to curl up and read.
What was the freedom to which the adult human being rose in the morning, if each act was held back or inspired by the overpowering ghost of a little child?
2.07 WALK OF LIFE Life but like a cycle that you be riding, You will fall if you ever stop peddling, Life not of good cards you be holding, But those held and how you be playing. [68] - 4
He knows that the only way he can accept losing her is if he can continue to hold her or be held by her. If they can somehow nurse each other out of this. Not with a wall.
The first time he'd held her hand, it felt so good that it crowded out all the bad things. It felt better than anything had ever hurt.
He had been held to her by a beautiful thread which it pained him to spoil by breaking, rather than by a chain he could not break.
His right ear still held both studs, and I wondered who had the missing earring. I would have asked, but was afraid he’d tell me Ivy had it.
And thus Charles found himself wandering around a hotel, trailing federal agents as he held a cardboard coffee cup holder in each hand, instead of out killing misbehaving werewolves.
Twas something else. I had come to hate her, you see. I had come to wish her dead, and that was what held me back.
Inside plum trees stood in a row, flowers lifted their pale throats to the moon and stars, a magnolia held its tight-closed buds like white candles in its green hands.
I picked up my camera and held it at arm's length and took a picture of myself not caring. I called it: Glory Doesn't Care.
The Good Man Better an enmity from one block than friendship held together by glue.
She stopped at the desk and held up a can for his view. "This looks like an ordinary hairspray can, right?" "Of course." he said though he had no idea what hairspray was.
Mothers took their mothering so seriously now. Their frantic little faces...Ponytails swinging. Eyes fixed on the mobile phones held in the palms of their hands like compasses.
