Muldoon: Shoot her! Shoot her!
To know her was to love her.
If you will take her, you may take her, but if you go from aboard, you shall never come aboard again.
She knew nothing of the massacre that went on around her, but when she released the wail of a broken hearted mother, one man heard her. The one who took her son's life.
I know she hates me, yet cannot choose but love her: No matter, if but to vex her, I'll haunt her still; Though I get nothing else, I'll have my will.
She was afraid of not being able to pull herself out of the dream world, never waking up, never knowing what really happened, never realizing her goals, her hopes, her dreams.
It was a struggle to not fall in love with a man who was determined to be decent to her when what she sought was indulgence of her wanton nature. Her recently discovered, very frustrated wanton nature, damn him.
He wanted to crumple her up and toss her from his mind like a scrap piece of paper filled with nonsensical doodles or dissonant words that formed unbalanced rhymes. Yet, he refused throw her away.
But it was fantasy, and she knew it. It was her fantasy, and the fantasy of everyone else who would look at her and at her pictures; and it would stop being real the moment the man with the camera stopped clicking.
Be nice to her,” I muttered under my breath. “She’s my sister; she got sick. She lost her kid. For all I know, she may have eaten her.
I’d always be watching her. And she knew now that she belonged to me. Every breath she took, every step she made, every smile she faked, I’d always be there, watching her, waiting for her.
After a while, when she has forgotten him a little, when she realizes that her life and her are more to her than any man, she will tell me about it.
She let out a laugh, and then she put her hand over her mouth, like she was angry at herself for forgetting her sadness.
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.
Should I really set her free, and free myself too of the fear - the fear of missing her, forever? Is that what my love for her is leaving me with?
I didn’t care about anything except her and the way touching her drove me wild, even as her calm and steady presence soothed the storms that raged within me.
Shane kissed her one more time, lightly and softly, and fluffed her hair back from her face. “To be continued,” he said. “I hate cliff-hangers.” “Blame Eve.
He pulled something out of his pocket and tried to stick it in her arm. A needle. He'd offered her hope, but then he was trying to hurt her. Poison. She pushed him away. "That wasn't nice.
Ashley watched her go and saw her square her small shoulders as she went. And that gesture went to his heart, more than any words she had spoken.
As for her hair, or rather hairs, they are too complicated to describe, but one system went down her back, lying in a thick pad there, while another, created for a lighter destiny, rippled around her forehead.
She was becoming too familiar for her own comfort and peace of mind. It was not despair; but it seemed to her like life was passing her by, leaving its promise broken and unfulfilled.
