Theres something alluring and dangerous about him, but comforting and protective. When I think about him, my stomach knots, my heart rate quickens and...and I could go on... -Laney
If I am attempting to describe him, it is in order not to forget him. It is sad to forget a friend. Not every one has had a friend.
That’s how it felt – that the loss of him had a life of its own. I lived with it as I could have lived with him. Some nights it was quiet and sometimes it pounded on my door.
She'd secretly had a crush on him since they were twelve years old. Last summer, she'd fallen for him hard.
Cecie keeps telling him she’d like to take him home some night, husband or no. The Minotaur waits hopefully. Husband or no.
You'd think getting chopped into a million pieces and cast into the darkest part of the Underworld would give him a subtle clue that nobody wanted him around.
I want to tell him I love him; I try to say the words I feel in my gut and my heart and every inch of me. But nothing comes out.
Everyone calls him Blockhead No one sings his praises Or takes him to heart... That is the kind of person I want to be
Arianna, what's up?" "Is there a reason there's a blond boy jumping on your bed, or should I kill him?" "Don't bother," I growled. "I'll kill him myself.
Every infantryman in the Soviet Army carries with him a small spade. When he is given the order to halt he immediately lies flat and starts to dig a hole in the ground beside him.
In a strange way', she thought, 'these absences suit my nature though not my heart. I love him, I miss him, but I have time to put on my humanity again.
But then it occured to him that any progress he had made on his quest so far he had made by accepting the help that had been offered to him.
Seid was the storm and the winds and the sea. I was his light beacon, keeping him away from the rocks. But he thought I had betrayed him.
Okay, then, what was he like? Just give me something to go on so that I have a shot at him!' 'A shot at him? Are you on an elk hunt?
And finally, she saw him smile. It chased the shadows from his face and made him a boy again. It was a smile that a woman could grow to yearn for.
I wasn't concerned, but I was thinking that the fastest way to get your mind off him and on me would be to tell you something truly appalling about him.
He had pulled out of that grief, eventually – out from under the suffocating weight of it. Suffering had formed him: made him silent and deliberate, thoughtful: deep.
Ugly. A term she had used to describe Sal the first time she saw him. It was hard to see him that way still though, now that she knew his heart.
The duchess turned on Eugène with one of those insolent stares that envelop a man from head to foot, flatten him out, and leave him at zero.
She promised him she would love him until she was physically unable to anymore and then after when all she could do was hold his photograph.
I certainly don't understand all these strange new feelings inside me--am I here because I love him, or because I owe him?
