You don't need to worry, though. He's not my type." "I don't think I've ever heard a girl say that before," said Simon. "I thought Jace was the kind of guy who was everyone's type.
The Gobi wasn't completely devoid of life; its ecosystem was unexpectedly extensive and varied given the extremes to which it subjected its denizens, but some of those forms of life weren't the kind that Anna wanted to admire too closely.
...I remember a rainy, depressing afternoon when she remarked 'What a pity we can't make love, there's nothing else to do,' and he agreed that it was and there wasn't.
Daddy, are you going to yell at us some more today?' Neary gazed down into her clear, guileless eyes. That was how he looked to her---a yelling machine. And she was prepared to accept more yelling because she loved him.
Real, sane, mature love—the kind that pays the mortgage year after year and picks up the kids after school—is not based on infatuation but on affection and respect.
The authorities don't grant concessions out of the kindness of their hearts; they simply concede the reality of what their subjects are strong enough to compel from them. If you want political leverage, don't beg for it, don't seek it through their c...
He’s the kind of kid who, just looking at him, you know gets bullied by the older boys and takes it out on everyone who is either weaker than him or required to refrain from smacking him.
The bacteriologist, often risking his life to find cures for lethal afflictions, was another kind of imperial hero, as brave in his way as the soldier-explorer.
Mina wanted some of the kind of love Momma gave to her children, where love was the first and deepest thing, and the questions came later and the answers wouldn't matter much measured up against the love.
Mina wanted some of the kind of love Momma gave to her children, wheere love was the first and deepest thing, and the questions came later and the answers wouldn't matter much measured up against the love.
a kind of emptiness existed in the center of my bagel; really it was just the hole that's in the middle of all bagels; 'i need to go read my blog to find out what my politics are
My heart had been touched by him, battered by him, cradled by him as the days passed. He was cruel without meaning to be yet he was kind, and I needed him too much to let myself want him
I wonder why peopke are so afraid of love. Of different kinds of love. I just don't get it. Why aren't we afraid of racism" Of war? But love? It just doesn't make sense.
Life is not an easy matter…. You cannot live through it without falling into frustration and cynicism unless you have before you a great idea which raises you above personal misery, above weakness, above all kinds of perfidy and baseness.
I didn't say what kind of book. You have a foul mind Bingley." "Don't mock me on my sister's wedding day!" "I mocked you on yours; I hardly see how this is as bad," was Darcy's reply.
Unfortunately we do treat others as we treat ourselves. We should try being genuinely kind to ourselves first and the rest will come naturally, like an 18-kt. Golden Rule.” ― Erica Goros, The Daisy Chain
I hate zombies. I know that sound prejudiced. I'm sure some zombies are really nice to kittens and love their parents. But it's been my experience that most are not the kind of people you want sending you friend requests.
They were bound together by a common love of a certain kind of music, physical beauty, and style—all the things one shouldn’t throw away an ounce of energy pursuing, and sometimes throw away a life pursuing.
Love could end even though it was true love. Love could be false love, or the wrong kind of love, or love that came at the wrong time to the right people, or at the right time to the wrong people.
A short poem from my book: Perspective Of course there is a hell she said and it has an observation deck; so I may stand and wave to all those kind souls below who warned me I would go there.
a kind of memory that tells us that what we're now striving for was once nearer and truer and attached to us with infinite tenderness. Here all is distance, there it was breath. After the first home the second one seems draughty and strangely sexed.
