Each of us can walk only the path he sees at his own feet. Each of us is subject to the consequences of his own belief.
Day drag." Ashley answered simply. "The sun turns vampires into dust and drag queens into this." He motioned with his hand down his body.
He smiled and bent forward, a hand on each knee, his truculence gleaming through his smile like a stone under water.
Fannie Mae had aroused his anger, then reduced his anger to verbal breast-beating, and finally to silent hurt. Still, the love remained. Why?
He was shaking so badly, we could have used him to make martinis for James Bond.
Then, as his planet killed him, it occurred to Kynes that his father and all the other scientists were wrong, that the most persistent principles of the universe were accident and error.
Pin his fucking legs." "Can't. Got his arms." "Knock him out, Paris." "Sure. Want me to spew diamonds from my ass while I'm at it?
What a slacker. Just because daddy paid for his college education, he thinks he can avoid dying for his country." -- Willie "Drafted
When you took a man's job away from him, his ability to feed and clothe his family, that man was going to get angry.
My knees were weak but he held me with one hand, guiding me with the motion of his hips. I was completely his to do with what he wanted and he knew it.
Remembered pain tightened his mouth into a grim line. The weeks he’d spent looking for her had left permanent scars on his heart.
I was his heartbeat. I was his fucking universe. Now I was, but soon I wouldn't be. I would miss that, miss being important. I would miss having someone.
Hearing him talk about his mother, about his intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle.
Naughty John, Naughty John, does his work with his apron on. Cuts your throat and takes your bones, sells 'em off for a coupla stones.
Somewhere deep inside, his humanity had been shaken by something so unnatural, so foreign in its essence, his very being withdrew from it...
To understand Jesus when he stated that he was the way, the truth and the life, one must first recognize his manner of a walk and believe firmly that his manner is true.
So, using his pride like a shield against despair, dejection, and-most important— self-pity, Raoden raised his head to stare damnation in the eyes.
He lifted a hand to her face, running a fingertip across her cheekbone and down to her mouth. It lingered for a moment before he dropped his hand to his side. "I'll be here.
She remembered her fingers threaded through his hair and his kisses in places that made her long for him years later.
His voice gave out and he made several wavy motions with his hand, indicative of the shape of a woman who would probably be unable to keep her balance.
The measure of a man lies not in his lengthy accomplishments, but in his decisions when he is faced with the certain, indisputable knowledge that he is going to die.
