I have a handful of prayers that I pray all the time... One is that God will put my books into the right hands at the right times. I've prayed this prayer thousands of times, and God has answered it in dramatic fashion countless times. The right book...
I'd heard of Evergreen Care Center before. Cass and I had always made fun of the stupid ads they ran on TV, featuring some dragged-out woman with a limp perm and big, painted-on circles under her eyes, downing vodka and sobbing uncontrollably. "We ca...
It is our suffering that brings us together. It is not love. Love does not obey the mind, and turns to hate when forced. The bond that binds us is beyond choice. We are brothers. We are brothers in what we share. In pain, which each of us must suffer...
So I stood up and did a handstand on my Guru's roof, to celebrate the notion of liberation. I felt the dusty tiles under my hands. I felt my own strength and balance. I felt the easy night breeze on the palms of my bare feet. This kind of thing -- a ...
Is she alright? That cannot be normal,” I ask the Captain. I am finding my two 'sisters' behavior to be concerning. “Depends on your definition of ‘normal’,” he air quotes ‘normal’, before waving his hand in Cassandria’s face. Cassand...
Reaching out, I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers with his. And I move into his space until we're not even an inch from each other. Laying my forehead on his chest, I take a deep breath and feel his whole body relax, as if tension is rolling of...
But laugh?" He pressed the flat of his hand against my stomach. "Here lives laugh." He ran his finger straight up to my mouth and spread his fingers. "Push back laugh is not good. Not healthy." "Also cry?" I asked. I traced an imaginary tear down my ...
Kate opens a jar of honey and pours a thick line of the sticky stuff over the top edge of the wound. Setting the jar back on the counter, she picks up the first strip of cloth and gently wraps it around his arm. As she works, she can feel his eyes on...
[laying on the ground with his throat slashed by Fred and the Mystery Man] Mr. Eddy: [gagging from his bloody throat] What do you guys want? [the Mystery Man pulls out a hand-held Watchman TV and gives it to Mr. Eddy who looks on it to see an interio...
Randall: Okay, I think I know how to make this all go away. What happens when the whistle blows in five minutes? Mike: I get a time out? Randall: Everyone goes to lunch! Which means the scare floor will be... Mike: ...Painted? Randall: EMPTY! I'll be...
Pyro: So, they say you're the bad guy. Magneto: Is that what they say? Pyro: That's a dorky looking helmet. What's it for? Magneto: This "dorky looking helmet" is the only thing that's going to protect me from the REAL bad guys. [magnetically takes P...
[Batty has grabbed Deckard's gun hand and pulled it, along with the gun, through a hole in the wall] Batty: Proud of yourself, little man? [Batty takes the gun out of Deckard's hand] Batty: This is for Zhora! [Batty breaks one of Deckard's fingers] B...
Progression and regression go hand in hand with mental health. It is a tough illness. You often take one step forward and ten steps back.
The mind commands the body and is instantly obeyed. The mind commands itself and meets resistance. The mind commands the hand to move, and it so easy that one hardly distinguishes the order from its execution. Yet mind is mind and hand is body. The m...
I take your hand, brother, so that you may go in peace. Will had opened his blue eyes that never lost their colour over all the passing years, and looked at Jem and then Tessa, and smiled, and died, with Tessa's head on his shoulder and and his hand ...
I know great art when someone doesn’t wash their hands after making it. And not only did Duchamp not wash his hands, but he didn’t even flush!
The feeling of his lips on my skin and his hand just below my breasts sent shivers through my body. I ran my hands through his soft hair, slipping in a kiss as he ran his tongue up my neck. His lips met mine again.
Would you favor me with a dance?" Over all the others I was his choice! I curtsied, and he took my hand. Our hands knew each other. Char looked at me, startled. "Have we met before, Lady?
Davy's kiss tasted like vodka and disaster, and even while she kissed him back, Tilda thought, He slipped his hand under her T-shirt, and she said, "You know," as his hand slid up to her breast, but the only thing left to say was, and of course she w...
It wouldn't have mattered if they were scratches or not," he says, his voice like liquid. "I was bitten during the escape from the house." My limbs go weak, everything inside me folding in collapsing on itself. "I was already dead," he says, opening ...
Who are we if not the stories we pass down? What happens when there's no one left to tell those stories? To hear them? Who will ever know that I existed? What if we are the only ones left -- who will know our stories then? Who will remember those?
