In the middle of the night, it was always the same. The dreams told the dreamer, The dreams told the dreamer, consider and consider , and for the most part, it was fine to consider these things, to engage the subconscious in the exercise of willful c...
Robbins had opened Gabby up. Her charred skin was peeled back, and her ribs were removed. She was pink inside, like steak that had been burned on a high heat but remained raw in the middle.
I became quietly seized with that nostalgia that overcomes you when you have reached the middle of your life and your father has recently died and it dawns on you that when he went he took some of you with him.
He held up his index finger. "Rule one: in any dispute between mates, the male is always to blame, even when he is clearly blameless. Rule two"—his middle finger joined the first—"whenever in doubt, refer to rule one.
People expect girls from good middle-class families to be smart -- but what they mean by smart for a girl is to have nice handwriting and a neat locker and to do her homework on time. They don't expect ideas or much in the way of real thought.
Youth, I didn’t want that illness. Luckily I recovered just in time for middle age. Now I can focus on more important things, like love, a relationship, and my upcoming existential crisis.
I always had this idea that you should never give up a happy middle in the hopes of a happy ending, because there is no such thing as a happy ending. Do you know what I mean? There is so much to lose.
And there, right in the middle of it, I find 'Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.' There is no slightest suggestion that we are offered forgiveness on any other terms. It is made perfectly clear that if we do not forgive we s...
I found your love like I found religion: in an aluminum trashcan in the middle of the Utah desert.
A few of us are extraverts. A few of us are introverts. But most of us are ambiverts, sitting near the middle, not the edges, happily attuned to those around us. In some sense, we are born to sell.
I would never see her again, except in memory. She was here, and now she's gone. There is no middle ground. Probably is a word that you may find south of the border. But never, ever west of the sun.
I had nothing to contribute. I played no part. I was on the edge. Different. Alone. Everything around me, grey. It was the same old feeling, back again. I was in the middle of the group but I might as well have been a million miles away from these pe...
Be myself. If only I remembered what it was like to be myself. I’m a fucking waitress in a crappy bar in a small town in the middle of nowhere. I was going nowhere. I had nothing to give him beside myself and my heart and he denied me.
The beginning and the end are never really the journey of discovery for me. It is the middle that remains a puzzle until well into the writing. That's how life is most of the time, isn't it? You know where you are and where you hope to wind up. It's ...
a good writer should draw the reader in by starting in the middle of the story with a hook, then go back and fill in what happened before the hook. Once you have the reader hooked, you can write whatever you want as you slowly reel them in.
Once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary life… love gives us a fairy tale.” “It’s how I feel,” he said, swallowing hard. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen years old.
In the Middle Ages, cathendrals and convents burned like tinder; imagining a medieval story without a fire is like imagining a World War II movie in the Pacific without a fighter plane shot down in flames.
And just so you know for the future, I like my double-chocolate chip cookies warm and soft in the middle...and without magnets glued to them." "Me, too. When you decide to bake me some, let me know.
Johnny Kickstand bullied me in middle school. Today, Kickstand stands 4’7” tall. Well, he would stand that tall if he weren’t in a wheelchair. So he’s a cripple and a midget, but he still whooped my ass last Tuesday. Bastard.
I have always loved camping, ever since I was eight, and was forcibly stuffed in a trunk and dropped off in the middle of the forest. My dad was a complex man, but I believe he was trying to show me the value of camping.
Kate: “Oh, please, Vincent. We’re in the middle of a major tourist site. Père Lachaise cemetary is practically Disneyland for the Dead. It’s not some Buffy soundstage with vampires rising out of the ground every time someone turns around.
