...The man who stood before her was taller and stranger than anyone she had ever encountered. His unkempt hair was a long dark brown, partially braided and twisted around twigs, the tips of his pointed ears poking between strands. His bare chest made...
What did I discover during my solo—besides learning to unwrap my energy bar ahead of time? That you ask yourself a lot of questions when you're alone on a bike for that long. One question more than others: Why the heck am I doing this? When I was d...
All my life I have longed to be alone in a place like this. Even when everything was going well, as it often did. I can say that much. That it often did. I have been lucky. But even then, for instance in the middle of an embrace and someone whisperin...
So they were pen pals now, Emma composing long, intense letters crammed with jokes and underlining, forced banter and barely concealed longing; two-thousand-word acts of love on air-mail paper. Letters, like compilation tapes, were really vehicles fo...
In East Sussex, let us say, an old farm sleeps in sun-dapple, its oast-house with its cowls echoing the distant steeple of SS Andrew and Mary, Fletching, where de Montfort had prayed and Gibbon now sleeps out a sceptic’s eternity. The Sussex Weald ...
Banzai: Yeah, be prepared! We'll be prepared... for what? Scar: For the death of the king! Banzai: Why? Is he sick? Scar: No, fool, we're going to kill him. And Simba, too. Shenzi: Hey, great idea! Who needs a king? Banzai, Shenzi: [singing and danc...
So long as I can keep a secret it is my prisoner. If I let it slip then I am its prisoner.
A road trip with your ancient mommy is just what you need after falling off a mountain and having your soul ripped out by your best friend.
There is no royal road to science, and only those who do not dread the fatiguing climb of its steep paths have a chance of gaining its luminous summits.
Her arms slid around my back and I heard the softest moan in my ear as she snuggled into my chest. Her mouth pressed to my neck, not kissing, just…there. On me. Dammity-damn-damn-damn.
The flames had passed over those flattened blades and consumed their heather neighbours on either side while they themselves had remained, made proof against the blaze and guaranteed their stark survival just by their earlier oppression.
Cam and I just broke up." Cam laughed, hugging me even tighter into his side. I huffed, trying to wriggle free. "What are you doing?" "Getting back together with you.
I gathered poets around me and we all wrote beautiful erotica. As we were condemned to focus only on sensuality, we had violent explosions of poetry. Writing erotica became a road to sainthood rather than to debauchery.
We must trust to nothing but facts: These are presented to us by Nature, and cannot deceive. We ought, in every instance, to submit our reasoning to the test of experiment, and never to search for truth but by the natural road of experiment and obser...
Bad things happen to good people all the time. It sucks. It's not fair but then much of life isn't fair. It's how you live that matters. It's how you deal with the bumps in the road.
Oak, granite, Lilies by the road, Remember me? I remember you. Clouds brushing Clover hills, Remember me? Sister, child, Grown tall, Remember me? I remember you.
I am not plain, or average or - God forbid - vanilla. I am peanut butter rocky road with multicolored sprinkles, hot fudge and a cherry on top.
If you have a deep inclination to transmute harm into help and be of benefit to others, whether they live next door or on the other side of the world, you will eventually be connected with the sources of energy and information that will assist your e...
There's a time in your life when you have to stop looking back and start looking forward because otherwise you're going to walk down the road one day and bump into a lamppost. But it's not easy.
You are walking along a road peacefully. You trip. You fall into blackness. That's the past - or perhaps the future. And you know that there is no past, no future, there is only this blackness, changing faintly, slowly, but always the same.
No one likes a straight road but the man who pays for it, or who, when he travels, is brute enough to wish to get to his journey's end.
