I just don't want to live in the past. I'm really disappointed by so many people of my generation who - in order to promote their new work, they have to constantly lean on their past. I don't want to be that type of artist... I see a lot of people ou...
What have I done to anger you, mate?” “That. That’s what you did. I’m not your mate.” He leaned in close and ran his nose up her neck, inhaling a deep breath. “Yes, you are,” he whispered next to her ear.
Every now and then, we change our minds. It's our prerogative. The big secret is" - I leaned in conspiratorially - "sometimes, even we don't know why. There are times after we pick a fight where we're as confused as you are. But there's no way we're ...
Holy hell, Trev! What kind of move was that?” Trevor leaned over her with a big smile on his face. “You really thought I would give up that easy? I am a geek, Cassie, not a friggin’ wimp. It’s called the internet and how to videos.
You cannot save every fallen bird," said Woosley, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "Even the handsome ones." "One will do," said Magnus, and, as Will was no longer within his sight, he let the front door fall shut.
What do you mean, my life is at risk?" I questioned. "From one of the other professors?" "Oh, it goes much deeper than that, Freddy," he said with a half crazed, wide eyed smile. Leaning in, he whispered, "I stole something.
A man was leaning idly against an elm. ... The man, who towered over the poet even at his slanting angle, too old for a student and too worn for a faculty member, stared at him with the familiar, insatiable gleam of the literary admirer.
She leaned against him slightly, and his heart pounded in his chest. He let go of her hand and scooted away a bit. He could not let her like him, he was only her protector, and that's how it would remain.
That’s means you’re mine. Mine to care for.” He ran his thumb over her full lower lip. “Mine to fuck.” He leaned forward, his mouth an inch from hers. “And mine to protect. Don’t forget that.” Zander deVries
I pretended to be a Cheyenne guide. I pretended to be a prairie woman. I pretended Henry was my old-timey husband taking me to our new homestead. I leaned down and patted Trouble’s neck. “Good boy,” I said. “Trusty steed.
You'd be surprised, Theo." she said, leaning back in her shawl-shaped chair, "what small, everyday things can lift us out of despair. But nobody can do it for you. You're the one who has to watch for the open door.
Fifteen minutes later, Betsy came thundering down the stairs. "I'm going to the mall with Sierra to see a movie." Michael leaned forward, switched off the television. "Can you please rephrase that in the form of a question?" "Sure. Can I have some mo...
God bless your soul, you're a horrible liar." Logan smiled as he leaned back on the door. "Answer me this Rachel?" he said placing his hands on his waist. "Why do you keep staring at me?
He pauses for only a fraction of a second. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to mine, and the whole world powers off, the moon and the rain and the sky and the streets, and it’s just the two of us in the dark, alive, alive, alive.
The Girauds' child was looking more and more like a problem. Luke pressed his lips into a thin line. When she'd leaned in the stagecoach blazing with fervor over what was in the arcane books, it had taken all his willpower not to throw a bolt of magi...
I leaned back to look at her, seeing only her, this girl who was Ally but also Alona, and who bore a resemblance to a friend i'd once had but was someone new. Someone i could live without, but didn't want to
No art is any good unless you can feel how it's put together. By and large it's the eye, the hand and if it's any good, you feel the body. Most of the best stuff seems to be a complete gesture, the totality of the artist's body; you can really lean o...
You can't escape an assasin," He leaned forward, shadows swallowing his eyes. "Hangings, bumbling bureaucrats, dishonest crewman, jail - those you can talk your way out of, you try hard enough. But this kind of death is the is the only kind of death.
Breckin shrugs. “I’m new here. And if you haven’t deducted from my impeccable fashion sense, I think it’s safe to say that I’m…” he leans forward and cups his hand to his mouth in secrecy. “Mormon,” he whispers.
Behind me, Marc made a soft whistling sound, clearly impressed. “That’s not standard procedure,” he said, his tone entirely too reasonable as he leaned over the stray’s body to open the back passenger-side door. “Yeah, well, I’m not your ...
Cold rage had him leaning closer, the pistol now a mere inch from his throat. "I served with them for a decade in Special Forces. You can't _begin_ to know what that means. Now they're dead and I want answers." "Try Ask.com
