She loosened her grip on his hair and lightly scraped her fingernails over his cheek to his incredible lips. "I could kiss you all day." Laith's gaze intensified. "All right.
I had learned how it felt to want more than the sweet touch of hand to cheek or lips to palm, more than a kiss, more than an embrace. I was starting to discover that it is not only the mind that understands love, but also the body.
The true mark of English conversation is not being able to tell when you've been insulted. I think the more sophisticated society becomes, the more it hides behind the masks it manufactures.
Maybe she'd seen too many Japanese horror movies, and maybe it was just a tingle of warning from generations of superstitious ancestors, but suddenly she knew that what Alyssa wanted was not to be saved, but for Shane to join her. In death.
You should be home sleeping. What is the use of having a man in the house, if he cannot take care of you for a while?” “Mmm,” I said. “I give up. What's the use of having a man in the house?
Damn it" I said "I don't suppose you have any ideas on how to kill Littleton" He smiled at me, his teeth very white in the darkness of his face "Eat him" he said.
Being postmodern, however, is about being complicit rather than virtuous, it is about approaching categories like Good and Evil with a certain ironic skepticism.
In my book, the media are a necessary evil: they live off the animal inside us, they bait the front pages with second-hand blood for the hyenas to snuffle up, but they come in useful enough that you want to stay on their good side.
Rachel: You're a half-blood, too? Annabeth: Shhh! Just announce it to the world, how about? Rachel: Okay. Hey, everybody! These two aren't human! They're half Greek god!...They don't seem to care.
Her face was a grimace of surprised pain as she slid unconscious down the back of the tub and under the water. I held her under for several minutes after the blow, watching as the water went pink, then red, and finally crimson with blood.
A single doctor, with the body of a Greek god, sat across from me at a candlelit table, and all I could think about was a greasy-fingered motorcycle mechanic. I refrained from smacking my own forehead.
I know," she said, guessing my thoughts. "I know exactly how you feel." "Does it get easier?" I asked. Unlike Sydney, Olena had an answer. "Yes. But you'll never be the same.
You can only fight what you are for so long. Eventually the hand that nature has dealt you will make you become what you were meant to be. You have no control over it.
Up on the Brooklyn Bridge a man is standing in agony, waiting to jump, or waiting to write a poem, or waiting for the blood to leave his vessels because if he advances another foot the pain of his love will kill him.
His voice was oily and slick as it poured from his mouth like liquid acid, threatening to hook onto the woman's hair like a fishing hook and drag her back to death.
He put his forehead against hers. “Alannah, my heart is yours.” He said softly. “And yet, I must hand it over to someone else for the keeping.” Her last words falling to a strained whisper.
Anyone intent on moral clarity might want to find another book and, in fact, might not want to go anywhere near the enduring chasm of race in the United States.
I was absolutely speechless. The most beautiful man I had ever seen…IN MY ENTIRE LIFE, just said I was beautiful. I blushed when the reality hit me, and boy, did it hit me hard.
It felt odd to have interrupted the life of someone she knew nothing about, to kill someone she had only just met, as though killing needed intimacy, deep knowledge of the other, to make it all right.
He curled his claw into a fist. "I'd like to shove a stake up that bastard's ass." Adam's lip curled. "Remind me not to piss you off." The demon raised his brow. "Trust that shit, mancy.
I was a soldier. It is like a dream. When even the bones is gone in the desert the dreams is talk to you, you don't wake up forever.
