I had dreamed of something so different from what reality was now offering up, but that dream had been a blind man's vision. That dream was a miracle. The morning was fading. And I remembered yet again that I was a tourist here.
And now the bad Mommy was here – outside his window. With a little whimper, he ran back to the bed, jumped in, and pulled the covers over his head. Good Mommy was gone now…and bad Mommy had come to eat him up.
At the street corner, a one-storey house built of freestone, but repulsively decrepit and filthy, seemed to command the entrance, like a gaol. And here, indeed, lived La Méchain, like a vigilant proprietess, ever on the watch, exploiting in person h...
He taught me to be a Da Vinci and I sit here, with his portraits waiting for him to return I do not think he will Is that what it means to be human to be all powerful, to build a temple to yourself and leave only the walls to pray
I make love like I make money. Well, I would, if somebody would actually pay me to have sex with them. So here I am, broke and sexless.
For every uneaten sandwich there’s an unopened sandwich bag full of baby’s tears. I’d give you a straw, but around here, those anal devices are rare. Also, I think I’m in love. Either that or I’m thirsty.
I've got everything I need right here." That sentimental thought met a room full of cheesy and sarcastic "aw's" and an empty water bottle thrown at my head. No, stop guys, really. You're embarrassing me.
Amy, Dan, and Nellie were sitting at a table in a conference room, examining reproductions of Franklin documents-some so rare, the librarians told her, the only copies existed in Paris. "Yeah, here's a rare grocery list," Dan muttered. "Wow.
You know what I like about you? You have no sense. You sit here in my house, you can barely hold a spoon, and you're telling me 'no'. You'd pull on Death's whiskers if you could reach them.
I cannot do it. I cannot bear it. I cannot go back to what I was here. I cannot stand at her side and watch another take her. I am not that strong or that good.
I'm scared, all right?" I said. I could feel my stomach churn as my gaze rested on the wooden trunk. Nathan turned my chin, looking at me with an expression of utter sincerity. "You don't have to be. I'm here.
They also held that the way to salvation was to give way to lust and temptation in all things. And no greater percentage of them turned up here than of any other religion. Amusing, isn't it?
More dangerous than being in a house full of vampires? I think I’ll take my chances, Mr. Fallinsworth." "I think we’re way past formalities here since my cock has been inside that hot, wet, delicious body of yours.
Perhaps there were a few repetitions here and there. But I would like to confess that I consider nature and human life to be a lovely and charming flow of fleeting repetitions, and I would like further to confess that I regard this phenomenon as a be...
If I stayed here, something inside me would be lost forever—something I couldn't afford to lose. It was like a vague dream, a burning, unfulfilled desire. The kind of dream people have only when they're seventeen.
the sky here's very strange. I often have the sensation when I look at it that it's a solid thing up there, protecting us from what's behind . . . [from] nothing, I suppose. Just darkness. Absolute night.
Toklo raked his companions with a hard glance. “Don’t risk your own safety.” “I bet you’ll risk yours,” Lusa said, aware once again of how deeply she trusted this bear. “That’s what I’m here for,” Toklo retorted.
Why do people have to be this lonely? What's the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?
I would never see her again, except in memory. She was here, and now she's gone. There is no middle ground. Probably is a word that you may find south of the border. But never, ever west of the sun.
I see you're trying to distract me from the real point here," Magnus said instead. "You had a birthday - a perfect excuse for me to throw one of my famous parties - and you didn't even tell me about it?
Right! Right! 'Stead of which, over here, they shit in the water until it's dangerous to drink, then make a fucking fortune out of selling us gadgets to purify it again. Why can't they be made to strain out their own shit?
