Unlike Gatsby and Tom Buchanan I had no girl whose disembodied face floated along the dark cornices and blinding signs and so I drew up the girl beside me, tightening my arms. Her wan scornful mouth smiled and I drew her up again, closer, this time t...
Bond had taken her to the station and had kissed her once hard on the lips and had gone away. It hadn't been love, but a quotation had come into Bond's mind as his cab moved out of Pennsylvania station: 'Some love is fire, some love is rust. But the ...
When one is traveling, everything looks brighter and lovelier. That does not mean it IS brighter and lovelier; it just means that sweet, kindly home suffers in comparison to tarted-up foreign places with all their jewels on.
Stories have a way of changing faces. They are unruly things, undisciplined, given to delinquency and the throwing of erasers. This is why we must close them up into thick, solid books, so they cannot get out and cause trouble.
I'm not lost, because I haven't any idea where to go that I might get lost on the way to. I'd to get lost, because then I'd know where I was going, you see.
Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything. But no, that is not quite accurate. There is one place where her absence comes locally home to me, and it is a place I can't avoid. I mean my own body. It had such a different importance while it w...
Cosmé is in constant attendance. Though no one will take Aneaxi’s place, Cosmé is the most efficient maid I’ve ever had. I tell her so, frequently, and it gives me such a twist of pleasure to watch her react to praise from someone she despises....
Tears stung her eyes. She sank her knees next to the sleeping bench and gently raked strands of golden hair from him forehead. "Don't you die. don't you dare. I forbid it." As if Han Alister had ever listened to anything she said.
Her father’s shadow looked sadly down at her. “You can never forget what you do in a war, September my love. No one can. You won’t forget your war either.
A Fairy must make her own way in the world, for the world will never make way for her. That, incidentally, is the First Theorem of Questing Physicks, which you’ll learn all about when you’re older and don’t care anymore.
“You are my enemy. You seek to end the things I love.” it asked. “There is no need to hasten that end,” Vin said. “No reason to force it.” Ruin said, seeming to flow around her. She could feel its touch on her—wet and delicate, like mis...
I think about her sometimes, and wonder what she’s doing and who she’s doing it with. I suppose I could just stalk her Facebook page like a normal person, but that doesn’t seem as romantic as surveillance and GPS tracking.
She picked up the book and then walked back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with her hand. He closed his eyes at her touch, and hated himself for wishing that what she said was true: that Dumbledore ...
Bitter disappointment pushed tears from her eyes. "Now what's wrong? I said you could wear it." She drew in a shaky breath. "I w-wanted you to l-like my dreeessssss." He moved his gaze over her. "The gown makes my mouth water, love.
You talk weird.” She whispered as she stared up at the white ceiling. “Its part of my barely there practically nonexistent charm, but just like genital herpes, I grow on ya, kid and I’ll getcha in the end.” Sienna replied with a smirk, althou...
She killed her sons first. Hammering a long fence nail through each of their hearts. Then, taking an ax, she methodically beheaded each one of her brothers-in-law. Going out to the pens, she drove the livestock into the barn, bolting it shut, and whi...
Even the reeking dark in the lion's cage seemed precious and infinitely preferable to whatever lay beyond. She would go out like the flame of a candle. Where does the candle flame go when the candle is blown out? She laid her painted face against the...
You mustn't tell your dreams. Miss Testvalley says nothing bores people so much as being told other people's dreams. Nan said nothing, but an iron gate seemed to clang shut in her - the gate that was so often slammed by careless hands. As if anyone c...
A brief whiff of her mother had come through a cracked window that opened to a weed-infested courtyard. It was a fragrance that almost spoke to her, saying, 'Yes, it was an unjust end to the life of a good man.' A man who had accepted gratitude in th...
He would never forget her. The distance he forced had done nothing to soothe his aching soul. It had done nothing to diminish that she was his. He tried to deny it at first, thinking it nothing more than a cosmic mistake, but after a month without a ...
Her gaze travels back to the lie twisted in a tempest of mud and blood. She witnesses the culmination of her recklessness through a curved lens. Absorbed in life uncoiling, unaware of the world beyond this ridge. His light hair, darkened by rain. His...
