I don't love her anymore So Why should I walk Nights By the tavern Where I drank Every night Thinking of her?
If we had more sleepless nights in prayer, there would be fewer souls to have a sleepless eternal night in hell.
I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.
Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
Ancient Chinese proverb,” he said, heading toward the kitchen. “He who butt-fucks all night wakes up with sore asshole.
The false face had been handsome, yes, but consciously so. As though he was too aware of his own attractivensss, something she found distinctly unappealing.
They seek each other out, these people of such specific like mind. They tell of how they found the circus, how those first few steps were like magic.
Es probable que haya que tomar decisiones, y sorpresas te deparan. La vida nos lleva a lugares insospechados a veces. El futuro nunca está escrito en piedra, recuerda eso.
I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you.
You'll forgive the flowery talk, won't you? Our family does so love to be told they are beautiful. Vanity is an old and venerable habit.
It was a night where the rogue drow felt tiny, and yet grand, a part of something ancient, eternal, and as vast as his imagination and as warm as the love among these five freinds surrounding him ...
Lean on me,” someone says in Jane Austen to a woman he scarcely knows, and there’s no question but that she will, that she takes it for granted.
Family is just accident, Jessie. It's nothing personal, hon. They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are.
No, no. Don't make that face. Every time I propose to you, you make that twisty, unhappy face. It wears on a man's confidence.
You’re my home, Susanna. My home, my heart, my dearest love. Wherever you are, that’s where I belong. Always.” - Victor Bramwell, Earl of Rycliff
I've given up reading the papers. Since the world's so obviously bent on killing itself, I decided months ago to sit back and let it.
We hold our dreams and ideals close to our hearts, where the promises are made to the future generations.
I doubt that the imagination can be suppressed. If you truly eradicated it in a child, he would grow up to be an eggplant.
So what, you assumed you’d show up before the dance and I’d magically be ready to go? I need warning to get beautiful.
If the library in the morning suggests an echo of the severe and reasonable wishful order of the world, the library at night seems to rejoice in the world's essential, joyful muddle.
The day here is a something without value, a mere torment suffered by living creatures as they await the night. Night is deliverance.
