O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
Though outwardly Kristina maintained that a clean room was a symptom of a diseased mind (for how could she, while studying the world's greatest thinkers, be bothered with such mundane earthly issues as cleaning?), inwardly she hated untidyness and ma...
Your biggest dreams can become reality, not by brute-forcing the end-goal, but breaking it down into smaller, more manageable parts. If your goal takes years, breaking it down into months and days will let you improve your lot little bits at a time.
I don't think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you might nudge the world a little or make a poem that children will speak for you when you are dead.
it's not his body that changes right away. it's something inside. he says he wants to be a little weaker. i don't understand. i say 'thinner?' and he says 'no, i want to be stronger in a different way.' not because of me, but for me.
I am not interested in your fine calibrations of empathy or your great mission to protect the river of history. I just to live my own life, and I want to spend it having my own private fucked-up little emotions.
There is your car and the open road, the fabled lure of random adventure. You stand at the verge, and you could become anything. Your future shifts and warps with your smallest step, your shitty little whims. The man you will become is at your mercy.
With the sensation that he was passing through the Looking-Glass, Max stared at his father as if he had never seen him before—simultaneously impressed and unnerved at the thought that, after all these years, he still knew so little about him.
And who ever said the world was fair, little lady? Maybe death is fair, but certainly not life. We must accept the unfairness as proof of the sublime flux of existence, the capricious music of the universe- and go on about our tasks
I rubbed at my temple, where the zit was gone. It still hurt a little , though, deep under the skin. I hate those zits that burrow underground. You think they've vanished, but no, they just barricade themselves right next to the bone and hurt.
I beseech you, little brothers, that you be as wise as brother Daisy and brother dandelion; for never do they lie awake thinking of tomorrow, yet they have gold crowns like kings and emperors or like Charlemagne in all his glory.
I hide myself behind, a cloud of smoke; the smoke screen varies, dependent on the variable. The variable consists of: stress, anguish, boredom, madness, anger, depression, apathy, negativity, sex, violence & a little chunk of chaos.
The shame, embarrassment, feeling of low self-worth, and scores of "labels" we give ourselves are not fitting. I am beginning to see how I had no control over the situation. He was a big man, I was a little boy.
Kyle held out his hand and Reid shook it like a good sport, but he made sure to add a little extra pressure and a meaningful stare in the universal male Don’t-f**k-with-this-chick-or-I’ll-eat-your-heart-for-breakfast-with-my-Wheaties look.
When you consider it from a human perspective, and clearly it would be difficult for us to do otherwise, life is an odd thing. It couldn't wait to get going, but then, having gotten going, it seemed in very little hurry to move on.
The hearts of women are like those little pieces of furniture with secret hiding - places, full of drawers fitted into each other; you go to a lot of trouble, break your nails, and in the bottom find some withered flower, a few grains of dust - or em...
She’s a kid. Nothing to be afraid of. You’ve faced scores of bloodthirsty enemy soldiers happily willing to die if it meant killing you. You can handle one little girl.”~ Cal Excerpt From: Andrews, Keira. “Semper Fi.” iBooks. This material ...
Only that I insist upon your dining with us. It will be ready in half an hour. I have oysters and a brace of grouse, with something a little choice in white wines. Watson, you have never yet recognized my merits as a housekeeper. ~ Sherlock Holmes
And now dear little children, who may this story read, To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed: Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye, And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.
Hush,” I said. “I’m here, and I’m not letting you out of my sight anytime soon so keep holding me tight.” I looked down, a little more than afraid of plummeting hundreds of feet down.- Breena to Kian, Silver Frost
For a once renowned woman who loved telling tales of dodging bullets, wielding grenades and subverting dogs trained to kill, Christine's story is, surprisingly, little known today.
