Schemes of thought such as Creative Evolution, Scientific Humanism, or Communism, fix men's affections on the future ─ on the very core of temporality. Hence nearly all vices are rooted in the future. Gratitude looks to the past, and love to the pr...
I look like prep school Barbie," Nudge complained, as she entered the kitchen. She caught sight of me in my uniform and looked mollified. "Actually, like prep school Barbie. I'm just Barbie's
Well, it doesn't look good. Makes me look like one of those unloved latchkey children they make after-school specials about." "Don't sell yourself short. You're more Masterpiece Theatre.
On some days she was able to see both sun and moon at the same time. Like feuding cousins, they hung in two corners of the vast world-ceiling refusing to look at one another. The moon was always harder to spot and more faded, but it was there if you ...
When it happened I was terrified. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I was a cliche. I looked at myself in the mirror and in my eyes was a look I had never seen before: confusion, mystery and, yes, happiness. I had fallen in love.
Right! Right! 'Stead of which, over here, they shit in the water until it's dangerous to drink, then make a fucking fortune out of selling us gadgets to purify it again. Why can't they be made to strain out their own shit?
He wore red, white, and blue, but he didn’t look patriotic—he looked like a sloppily wrapped birthday present. But it’s not his fault. I tried to wrap him as tight as I could without restricting movement.
To experience real agony is something hard to write about, impossible to understand while it grips you; you're frightened out of your wits, can’t sit still, move, or even go decently insane.
When I lived here and woke up from the fog in my head, I would walk by myself to the grave site set aside for me, so that I could feel comfortable if I lived there after death.
People say that when a baby is crying the paternal grandmother will say, "The baby is crying, you should feed her," and the maternal grandmother will say, "Why is that baby crying so much, making her mom so tired?
It didn't get better, not in my book. I mean if you weren't looking too hard at what just happened or who might be down the road or at some other stuff. Maybe living well is the art of not looking at that, at the other stuff, when you don't have to. ...
Connor and Cameron look wide-eyed at the carnage. Cameron slowed the speedboat down to a crawl. She and Connor looked at Jason. “Oops,” Jason said meekly. Nothing else seemed appropriate. “Oops?” Connor shouted. “You blew up half the town.
People who collect books, and categorize them by Roy G. Biv instead of alphabetically, are displaying the fact that their books aren't meant to be read, but merely looked at. And while they are busy looking at the rainbow of books, they're missing th...
I just ate at a new McDonald’s franchise, and it was great. Everything looked new, including the food. Apparently fast food will look new for years, sort of like plastic. I wonder if the toys in Happy Meals are more edible than the meals themselves...
My love for you spans over the lines of my past, present, and future. You are what I love remembering, what I love experiencing, and what I love looking forward to.
Did I mention how cute you look in my clothes?" Blushing I just look at what I'm wearing and laugh. "Chicks Dig me? And Sponge Bob boxers?" "Chicks do dig me! And Sponge Bob is a great cartoon in your world.
Diesel sucked air. "You keep fondling me like that, and I might have to marry you." "I'm not fondling you. I'm looking for the keys!" "Could you look a little more gently? You're scaring my boys.
A singer who refused to sing, a friend who wasn't her friend, someone who was hers and yet would never be hers. Kestrel looked away from Arin. She swore to herself that she would never look back
Together, we looked down at the tiny house, the sole thing on this vast, flat surface. Like the only person living on the moon. It could be either lonely or peaceful, depending on how you looked at it. "It's a start," I said.
I've become a kissing addict. I think that's it. The buzzy feeling. Burning lips. The foggy eyes. Maybe i could kiss every good-looking guy here at school. Maybe even the good-looking male teachers. The thought warms me and troubles me at the same ti...
Setting fire to the roofs, getting away with the loot, suiting herself. She studied modern philosophy, read Sartre on the side, smoked Gitanes, and cultivated a look of bored contempt. But inwardly, she was seething with unfocused excitement, and loo...
