Mom always said I was born to sit in the electric chair, but I'm proving her wrong. I'm going to die on my knees, begging for my life.
Maybe we could, um, go sit in the truck?" he said, but even as he said it, it sounded so dumb. And not exactly the way he wanted her to remember a marriage proposal.
What’s wrong with him?” “Nothing. He’s just. . just. .” “Just what?” “A peacemaker.” And she’d dropped her voice to a whisper. “What would I do with a peacemaker?” “The same thing I did with a whore.
Suddenly, as they walked with their buckets, it was not the child in each face that she sought, but the Wonder that had raised itself on to its two feet, that had learnt to walk, to run, that had spoken, that had got in touch with life under her hand...
She was not granted the luxury of forgetting her lower middle-class existence where life hangs by an unseen thread to every hope and where every slash of disappointment shrinks the life further.
After telling me about her job, she asked me, “What do you do?” I sighed softly and asked rhetorically, “It’s sad. What do you do?
If the other novice wizards on the row hadn't broken into Raeshaldis's rooms, pissed on her bed and written WHORE and THIEF on the walls, she probably would have been killed on the night of the full moon.
No person, trying to take responsibility for her or his identity, should have to be so alone. There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep, and still be counted as warriors.
A hint of fire in his eyes, he glanced up at her. "If that displeases you, lass, I can leave you here for the next savior who comes along.
I didn’t say one word to her the whole night. No, I said three words: I love you. She only said one word: Goodbye.
I'm not Bonnie™ or Chloe. I'm the essence of her, the nontrademarked person the camera can never capture and my parents have no right to sign over. There is a sovereign nation encased in this skin that MetaReel can never trademark.
Oh, man. You’re him. The cute and brooding vampire boyfriend.” “She said I was cute and brooding?” I asked. “Never mind. Why can’t I reach her? Where is she?
She blinked once, then twice, and yet again, sure what she viewed was just another part of this fantasy world that she had stepped into when her feet touched the green grass of Ireland.
A busy, vibrant, goal-oriented woman is so much more attractive than a woman who waits around for a man to validate her existence.
Every thing he did was right. Every thing he said was clever. If their evenings at the park included cards, he cheated himself and all the rest of the party to get her a good hand.
and the boy's eyes are searching hers with something like loneliness, like the very last thing he wants is to be left behind right now.
Find a woman who makes you feel more alive. She won't make life perfect but she'll make it infinitely more interesting. And then love her with all that's in you.
From a night of more sleep than she had expected, Marianne awoke the next morning to the same consciousness of misery in which she had closed her eyes.
A man doesn't want to be rejected. We're really quite sensitive. 'Sensitive?' She laughed, her head on one side. 'Sensitive egos you mean. Never met a man who didn't have one of those.
She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of the horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well.
Not that Dr Watson wasn't benign - he was one of the best souls in the Empire - but a man didn't get to be her uncle's right-hand man without a good uppercut and the stamina of a draft horse.
