He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight for a few seconds. His breaths tickle my ear, and I close my eyes, letting myself finally relax. He smells like wind and sweat and soap, like Tobias and like safety.
Yet people are still showing up to lift their hands after all these years even though the church is flawed and broken and beautiful and has a shameful, ugly side to it that I'll bet it wishes it didn't have and repeatedly tries to hide. Just like me....
Why does any kind of cynicism appeal to people? Because it seems like a mark of maturity, of sophistication, like you’ve seen everything and know better. Or because putting something down feels like pushing yourself up.
Prayer is like lying awake at night, afraid, with your head under the cover, hearing only the beating of your own heart. It is like a bird that has blundered down the flue and is caught indoors and flutters at the windowpanes. It is like standing a l...
Elizabeth scowled, feeling like a nobody, a nothing. She felt like her entire self had been made worthless. She could change her interests, but she couldn’t change her looks. She’d never be six feet tall. She’d never look like a supermodel.
They were full of mysteries and secrets, like... like poems turned into landscapes." "'Poems turned into landscapes.'" he murmured with a slight smile. "And what of Vestenveld's gardens? Do you see poems in them?" "Your gardens are like your country'...
Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in-slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done - cook an omelette...
We ate soup in the pouring rain. I said I liked it, even though it was a bit too watery for my taste. Then we made love like two rainbows sizzling in a pan like bacon.
Hold me like you hold the hand of a little kid who needs you in loneliness, bite my fingers like you bite a giggling kid in front of her friends, and play with me like you play with a kid who only has a few days to live.
You are a very special person. There is only one like you in the whole world. There's never been anyone exactly like you before, and there will never be again. Only you. And people can like you exactly as you are.
I like trains. I like their rhythm, and I like the freedom of being suspended between two places, all anxieties of purpose taken care of: for this moment I know where I am going.
Paul was terribly personal. The books I like are the ones that make you feel like you are with a person who is being quite vulnerable, telling you all sorts of stuff that is personal, and that's the thing Paul did that makes me like him.
I like my coffee like I like myself....making rustling noises inside a burlap bag
Words Like Freedom There are words like Freedom Sweet and wonderful to say. On my heartstrings freedom sings All day everyday. There are words like Liberty That almost make me cry. If you had known what I know You would know why.
It's easy to like someone from a distance. But when she stopped being this amazing attainable thing or whatever, and started being, like, just a regular girl with a weird relationship with food and frequent crankiness who's kinda bossy, then I had to...
I like being on my own better than I like anything else, but I can't give up love. Maybe it's the tension between longing and aloneness that I need. My own funicular railway, holding in balance the two things most likely to destroy me.
My cat has long hair. Like a hippy. It gets annoying because I can’t get him to shut up about Vietnam. I can’t relate, because I wasn’t there. Neither was he, because like I said, he's like a hippy.
Exuding confidence can ooze onto everyone around you. But it’s sticky and goo-like, so remember to periodically wipe yourself down. I use a squeegee, because I don’t like squeezing sponges. The only time I like to squeeze is when hugging a person...
I love like a laugh in a can, so I hope you like Spam. I also hope you like spam, because I forwarded all my unsolicited penis enlargement emails to you, as obviously I don’t need them.
Tomorrow came with the illusion of today even more fleeting than yesterday it came like it always comes and went like it’s always gone like a favorite song in its final seconds Tomorrow came and left leaving nothing nothing... but a familiar linger...
He smiled. He liked to imagine that she saw the beauty, that she could think outside the well-worn tracks of her countrymen, find something to like about this unsophisticated place. Because that just might mean she could find something to like about ...
