She pulls her hand away and Damian feels the sensation of falling, a somersault into a foreign abyss where a girl with eggplant hair and a hoop in her brow waits in the darkness.
This will be Great Mam's last spring. Her last June apples. Her last fresh roasting ears from the garden.
If Jesus came back and saw what was being done in his name, he'd never stop throwing up.
Anna loved and didn’t love sex. Anna needed and didn’t need it. Her relationship with sex was a convoluted partnership that rose from both her passivity and an unassailable desire to be distracted.
She's clearly gone too long without male companionship if any brute who walked her way made her sit up and take notice.
If you say you can't, you won't! The only thing holding you back from success is yourself.
Her hair was the color of coffee without cream, and she fell in love with me when I poured sugar on her. Probably.
Ain't nothing more important than loving your mama. Even if you can't understand her. Love her. That's all you gotta do.
No - the light in Tamani's eyes was much more than a reflection. It was the fire that melted her anger and devestated her resolve, every single time she saw it.
I saw this beautiful girl the other day. She had an ass behind her that seemed to go on for days. In fact, I’m still going on about her.
What i literally cannot describe is the hollowness in my lungs when i am out of her presence. It is as if i were dying from the want of her.
I thought you were her knight, but you have become only her woodsman--taking little girls into the forest to cut out their hearts.
Despite her words about letting go, melancholy washed over her. Because words are easy and often thrown around with trite intentions.
I don't love her anymore So Why should I walk Nights By the tavern Where I drank Every night Thinking of her?
To the woman in the restaurant today, the doll in her arms was the real child who still lived in her memories.
Sympathy compounded of liking and compassion in varying proportions evidently seemed to Jane Austen the most natural inventive to imaginative interest in a character.
This woman is my salvation. She is my anchor in this world. “My angel,” I whisper to her, reminding her who she is to me.
I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more.
She was alive. She was alive, and she had found her power — or it had found her. Tomorrow’s problems she’d take care of tomorrow.
You could push people away, past their limits, even accidentally, and then it was just too late to get them back
I remembered Father remarking once that if rudeness was not attributable to ignorance it could be taken as a sure sign that one was speaking to a member of the aristocracy.
