The irresponsible mother helped explain bella's maturity. She'd had to grow up early, to become the caretaker. That's why she didn't like being cared for- she felt it was her job.
I cried at the funeral. It wasn’t because I loved her, it was because I was there, in the front pew at the church, chopping onions.
Every time we made love, one of us cried. Mostly it was me, out of joy, but occasionally it was her, out of despair.
We made love like two cars that were out of gas. I tried to fill her up, but couldn’t because I myself was empty.
Charity felt rather snoozy after the long sermon, and she was really very grateful when Reverend Meeps offered her a cup of tea. Church was not so bad when the minister remembered you were only human.
Kezia could’ve guessed from the soapy scent wafting over her shoulder. Soap and something else. The XY factor that made some men smell so good you just wanted to lick the nearest inch of available skin.
She said I brought her nothing but sorrow. I replied, “Consider it a gift that you didn’t have to unwrap.
But Catherine did not know her own advantages - did not know that a good-looking girl, with an affectionate heart and a very ignorant mind, cannot fail of attracting a clever young man, unless circumstances are particularly untoward.
The security officer smiled and said, ‘Good afternoon, ma’am,’ to me before I gave him ID.” “It’s a sick world, Eve.” He resisted taking her hand for another squeeze. “A sick, sad world.
I shouted the perfect words to scare him off. It was just the delivery (and only the delivery) that made me sound like a twelve-year-old girl with pee running down her leg. I felt dirty and stupid.
You and me," I said,"we both got the same kind of hurt inside us." She nodded, and suddenly, just like that, I knew I could trust her with my life.
At these times, the things that troubled her seemed far away and unimportant: all that mattered was the hum of the bees and the chirp of birdsong, the way the sun gleamed on the edge of a blue wildflower, the distant bleat and clink of grazing goats.
All of a sudden, in the good-natured child, the woman stood revealed, a disturbing woman with all the impulsive madness of her sex, opening the gates of the unknown world of desire. Nana was still smiling, but with the deadly smile of a man-eater.
One way poetry connects is across time. . . . Some echo of a writer's physical experience comes into us when we read her poem.
I looked at her. She wore a very tight and tiny two-piece orange bathing swimsuit that inadequately covered the overplump body I'd been using as a forget-yourself machine.
I know you better then anyone. You’re practically my son, and I think that it’s the fact that you don’t want to see her leave. You are afraid of change.” He paused; he was right. “You are afraid that she will change.
And so she shuddered away from the threat of his enduring love. What did he mean? Had she not the power to daunt him? She would see. It was more daring than became a man to threaten her.
Not everybody believes in ghosts, but I do. Do you know what they are, Trisha? She had shaken her head slowly. Men and women who can't get over their past . . . That's what ghosts are.
I do not for a moment suggest that Japan should be unmindful of acquiring modern weapons of self-protection. But this should never be allowed to go beyond her instinct of self-preservation. She must know that the real power is not in the weapons them...
Frankie runs a sex moon and has kids. My head hurts just thinking about it. You still keep up with her, too, then?” Ryelle's face took on a hunted expression. “She sends me coupons, Declan.
Isobel moved farther into the kitchen, not knowing whether to be relieved that her mother hadn't had an atomic meltdown, or mortified that she'd taken it upon herself to play head chef with the nearest thing Trenton High had to a Dark Lord.
