He loved her because it was his nature to do so, but there were times when he could not endure her love for him. There were times when it became nothing but pure idiot mystery...
Almost two hundred years ago, Harriet Tubman led slaves to freedom. And when they told her they didn’t think they could, when they said they were too afraid, she pointed a gun at them and said”—Marjorie mimed a weapon in her grasp—“Go forwa...
Do you believe a man can truly love a woman and constantly betray her?Never mind physically but betray her in his mind,in the very "poetry of his soul".Well,it's not easy but men do it all the time.
He stroked her hair gently as he said, “You challenge me like no one ever has, like no one has ever dared. It’s frustrating…” he kissed her lips chastely, “…but also refreshing. And sometimes it even turns me on a little.
Sharon dropped to her knees and reached her hand over the edge. The gesture was supposed to be a sign of support. But she realized then that it was useless. His insanity was like the stream beneath the ground. It only flowed in one direction, into de...
It's not objective. It's subjective.” Katya hooks her bra behind her back. “It's just what you think, not the truth.
I didn’t care at this point and busied myself texting a message to Sydney on the Love Phone, letting her know that my art was a paltry thing compared to the brilliance of her beauty. She texted back: To which I replied:
She continue kissing me with that ferocity, so much so that her lips lightly scraped my teeth. It was only a few drops, but as the sweet metallic taste of her blood touched my tongue, a blinding ecstasy flooded my body.
It made her want to stand up next to him and fight. Fight to stay alive long enough to live out her life next to him. Fight for the only thing she knew that was good enough, noble enough, powerful enough to be, worth risking everything. Love.
A beautiful white silk scarf was around her neck, tucked below the fur collar. Her lips were well painted into a bright red cupid’s bow. Cute as hell I always told myself, with a tinge of regret. She had a steady girlfriend.
What was she thinking? He was her mechanic, not a piece of meat. Although, if he were a piece of meat, he’d be a big, juicy porterhouse, the naughtier side of her thought. -Gabby, Love in Greener Pastures
It may...be judged indecent in me to come forward on this occasion; but when I see a fellow-creature about to perish through the cowardice of her pretended friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I know of her character.
Sure, Manda knew that the tree wasn’t actually dead. Mrs. Evans, her teacher, taught her that some trees lose their leaves in the wintertime making them look dead, when they were only sleeping. Sleeping or not, the big tree was dead to Manda.
I can't leave her now. I like her too much. There, I said it. But I won't say it again.
She stirs things inside me that I don't even know I'm feeling until it's too late. Whenever I'm around her, all I can think about is her, no one else, not even myself.
Disturbed to her very soul, Finley could only shake her head. "You ask too much." A crooked grin curved his mouth. "Too much? You strange and wonderful girl, that is the least I'll ask of you.
Gods, the love that saturated the room was so potent that Arabella couldn't breathe. This was what she wanted. Someone who wouldn't let go, someone who would love her so much he'd wait decades to be reunited with her.
I allowed myself the supernatural, the transcendent, because, I told myself, our love of metaphor is pre-religious, born of our need to express what is inexpressible, our dreams of otherness, of more.
I wanted to drown inside a woman in the feeling and drooling of the love I could give her. I wanted her pulse to crush me with its intensity. That's what I wanted. That's what I wanted myself to be.
We all live inside the terrible engine of authority, and it grinds and shrieks and burns so that no one will say: lines on maps are silly.
But cheating has always been the purview of fairies, and as we are about to enter their domain, we ought to act in accordance with local customs.
