...maybe she's a slut because she's lonely, she's sad, she's hoping someone or something will make the lonely and sad go away. It won't, of course. It never does. But nonetheless, there's not a girl who's more hopeful than a slut, more optimistic. Sh...
And I knew in my bones that Emily Dickinson wouldn't have written even one poem if she'd had two howling babies, a husband bent on jamming another one into her, a house to run, a garden to tend, three cows to milk, twenty chickens to feed, and four h...
Did you ever want to set someone's head on fire, just to see what it looked like? Did you ever stand in the street and think to yourself, I could make that nun go blind just by giving her a kiss? Did you ever lay out plans for stitching babies and st...
Sad is one of those words that has given up its life for our country, it's been a martyr for the American dream, it's been neutralized, co-opted by our culture to suggest a tinge of discomfort that lasts the time it takes for this and then for that t...
Do you prefer fermented or distilled? This is a trick question. It doesn’t matter how much you like wine, because wine is social and writing is anti-social. This is a writer’s interview, writing is a lonely job, and spirits are the lubricant of t...
This was not a man who wanted to give up his mate. This was a man trying to do the honorable thing—and give her a choice, no matter hiw much it cost him.
She waited for him with shallow breaths, head thrown back, eyes half closed, completely exposed in her trust of him, and it unravelled the last thread holding him together.
He could have watched her all night. He could watch her for an eternity and still never be able to capture the essence of what it is that makes ‘love’.
Half naked, he drank her in with his eyes, imprinting this moment into his mind. This, he would take to his death – the woman that stirred him to life.
Life was indeed good for a Wolf-Creature in the deep woods who had found his very own little red-headed chew toy.
The one thing you should never do to a woman, whether you make love to her or fuck her, is apologise straight after.
As he had kissed her neck, she could not repress the feeling she was a lamb making time with a wolf.
Why, oh why was I standing entranced when I should have been releasing my inner she wolf on his arse?
You will be a great queen when you come back, you know. And someday you'll love me the way you love your wolf.
That's different," Levi smiled at her warmly. "Ypu don't rock that Little Red Riding Hood vibe. You're scary." Reagan grinned like the Big Bad Wolf.
I was trying to decide if you still had free will as a wolf. If I was a terrible person for planning to drug my girlfriend and drag her back to my house to keep in the basement.
That paper-- it sits there, open at the employment section. It sits there like a war, and each small advertisement is another trench for a person to dive into. To hope and fight in.
... because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it. It's the ones in between that test you. They're the ones that bring questions with them.
It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.
I cannot be critical of an infant whose only possible source of nourishment can be found in the dugs of a wolf.
All species capable of grasping this fact manage better in the struggle for existence than those which rely upon their own strength alone: the wolf, which hunts in a pack, has a greater chance of survival than the lion, which hunts alone.
