Dingo: And after the spanking, the oral sex. Galahad: Well, I could stay a bit longer...
Sam: Oh my God! They're playing good music. Patrick: Holy shit. Holy shit. They are, they're playing good music!
I tell you, my idea of a ghost is something quite different. Dead men rise up never – read even your poets. Ghosts breed in the living.
We love the night and its quiet; and there is no night that we love so well as that on which the moon is coffined in clouds.
Scholars don't have blood flowing in their veins," said Hamlet. "When they're wounded, they bleed logic, and when all of it is gone, their brains die, and they become ... soldiers.
That’s the way it is with Appian; things that appear ridiculous on average just might have happened, so they cannot be entirely dismissed.
Polybius managed to attach himself to the clan and person of Scipio Aemilianus, grandson of one of the two losing consuls at Cannae,
Oh, man," said Jack. "Everyone was nice to us when we looked rich. Now it feels like the whole world's against us.
There is a faculty in man that will acknowledge the unseen. He may scout and scare religion from him; but if he does, superstition perches near.
On the way home Mary Lou said, "Some things are so sad you can't say them." But I pretended not to hear.
and I'm thinking as our bodies meet that I'll remember this forever, and i just hope it's for all the right reasons.
It occurred to me that if I were a ghost, this ambiance was what I'd miss most: the ordinary, day-to-day bustle of the living. Ghosts long, I'm sure, for the stupidest, most unremarkable things.
If he just had the decency to die silently yesterday, not squeal like a girl, I’d be free right now. Probably even doing some real job,” she sneered.
The others could believe that she was that way because she lost her parents so early, but Peter knew better. She was strong, confident, and never broken.
Everything had changed, and maybe she couldn’t keep up with it, but she still was good at making people regret they had ever crossed her way.
He watched her curiously from below, feeling as someone might feel watching a butterfly sit nearby, afraid to scare it off with a sound of voice or an abrupt movement.
She had every right to be harsh, mean, and independent. Every damn right. And yet he had a feeling that she needed care more than anyone else in the world.
Because otherwise you would have to let them in, let them change your life, and it’s scary and unpredictable and unsafe – at least, that’s what we all think.
He had a semicircle tattoo with an indecent word on the back of his head, suggesting all people around him to leave him alone – in a much more impolite manner.
He considered razing the house and rebuilding, but he realized that houses are not haunted, and regardless of the architecture with which we surround ourselves,our ghosts stay with us until we ourselves are ghosts.
Where science is a dignified waltz in three-quarter time, magic is an improvised saxophone solo: all gut checks and synchronicities.
