Something was wrong with the devices themselves. Digging deep into the internal structure of the circuit boards with powerful microscopes, Simon's team had discovered broken and incorrect connections, electronic dead-ends, short circuits, and nonsens...
I had a dream about you last night. We were plug sockets in the bedroom. We saw only a short part of their day, but we knew everything of it.
It's a messy business--being alive. But I'd rather have this short time with those I love than have an easy time. We forget about the things we saw that morning,and we choose to build a bigger sandcastle.
In short, we derive support for our preferred conclusions by listening to the words that we put in the mouths of people who have already been preselected for their willingness to say what we want to hear.
Was that really all there was to love? Darkness undone, a hand on your forehead. In the meantime all you could do was wait--tired, alone, the minutes as long or short as a lifetime--for the face in your dream to appear.
This is Denmark. We are Danes. We keep our distance. We do not pick a seat close to strangers if other seats are available. We do not talk to strangers in the trains.” William Wilson in the short story 'Metro' by Steen Langstrup
I turn off my cell phone and reluctantly slide it down my pocket. My hands are shaking. A large knife appears in his hand.” William Wilson in the short story 'Metro' by Steen Langstrup
The man is well inside the train before the dreadful truth occurs to me. He is the man from the newspaper. The rapist. My doppelganger. My mirrored doppelganger.” William Wilson in the short story 'Metro' by Steen Langstrup.
Hetty shivered. Goodness, he had no business looking at her like that. Physician my eye! Physicians definitely didn't look like him; they were short, round and adorned with wigs and spectacles.
I was short staffed. But that's what happens when all your employees are midgets. I make love like spicy rice.
There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow- that, in short, we are all going.
There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow - that, in short, we are all going.
True love doesn't grow on you, feed on you, drain you and spoil your heart. It nourishes, waters the soul and intensifies in absenses long and short.
Sometimes, you're the one who strikes it lucky. Sometimes, it's the other poor bastard who's left with the short straw, and you just have to shut up and get on with it.
However much you possess there's someone else who has more, and you'll be fancying yourself to be short of things you need to exact extent to which you lag behind him.
I urge you: don't cut short these thought-trains of yours. Follow them through to their end. Your thoughts and your feelings. Follow them through and you will grow with them.
Not telling is just as interesting as telling I have found. Why speech, that short verbal journey from inside to outside can be excrutiating under certain circumstances is fascinating.
I don't put up with being messed around, and I don't suffer fools gladly. The short version of that is that I'm a bitch. Trust me, I can provide character references.
That was the hard thing about grief, and the grieving. They spoke another language, and the words we knew always fell short of what we wanted them to say.
I'd been through so much, falling short again and again, and only recently had found a place where who I was, right now, was enough.
Yeah, there has to be a few screws loose when a girl asks you to drop everything to spend a three-day weekend on very short notice, and you say okey dokey without a care in the world.
