I saw that he was looking anxious. 'I thought you weren't coming.' As he spoke, he grasped my hand. And if the sight of him had not quite restored the magic, the touch of him most certainly did. 'You're not wishing yourself some place else, Mary?
That what?" "That I knew i misjudged you. That you love him. I'm not saying In what way. Maybe you don't know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him," he says gently.
The difference between you and him and him and me isn’t different at all: we’re all different.
I gave the robber a gift that transformed him from a thief to an honest recipient of a present when I said what he took from me wasn’t stolen, but was a gift from me to him. So with one gift I gave two gifts.
Should one continue to follow the faith of a group that's cast him out? Shouldn't it stand to reason that if he was true to that faith that the group should have been true to him? Is it unreasonable to ask forgiveness of one who is all-forgiving?
I wish I could have saved you," he says finally. And this is what it always comes back to. Salvation. Him saving me. Me saving him. Impossibilities, because there is no such thing, and it's not what we ever needed from each other anyway.
No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the ...
He was dead, all right. He had been shot, poisoned, stabbed, and strangled. Either somebody had really had it in for him or four people had killed him. Or else it was the cleverest suicide I'd ever heard of.
There was an outburst of noise and protests, and Jeremy announced I wasn't being logical, of course they wouldn't sell me, because it was , for heaven's sake. Alexa gave him a look that said , and Gil smacked him on the back of the head, and Olivia s...
Jen's emotions, strong but invisible within an infallible Miran facade, raged with contempt. He'd met the man responsible for such despicable exploitation of his brother's life onboard the Aquarius. He didn't like him then. He hated him now.
Being a mother gives you a singular sort of vision, a prism through which you can see your child with many different faces all at once. It is the reason you can watch him shatter a ceramic lamp, and still remember him as an angel.
But was you not afraid, good sir, when you see him come with his club?" "It is my duty," said he, "to distrust mine own ability, that I may have reliance on him that is stronger than all".
God is great not just because nothing is too big for Him. God is great because nothing is too small for Him, either.
He knows bad days. Bad days take him completely by surprise. They make him not trust the good days because it's likely something is lurking twenty-four hours away.
She could not admit but that he had remarkable qualities, sometimes she thought that there was even in him a strange and unattractive greatness; it was curious then that she could not love him, but loved still a man whose worthlessness was now so cle...
When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
He desired her and, so far as her virginal emotions went, she contemplated a surrender with equanimity. Yet she knew she would forget him half an hour after she left him - like an actor kissed in a picture.
A fish called Gilbert. But I just call him Gil to save some breath, so I can spend more time underwater petting him like I used to do to grandpa before he drowned.
...some small part of her had reacted to the passion inside him. Despite his role as a titled gentleman, there seemed to be a facet inside him that society could not tame, something stimulating yet dangerous, like standing at the edge of a cliff and ...
It was my idea. It's the safest way, but it's strange pretending to be something different. It's like there's a glass wall between us. Like I can't touch him or ... reach him. I don't like the way it feels.
I know logically that I can live without him, but loving him has become such an integral, necessary part of my life; I am not sure I could stop, even if we parted.
