My left hand is my bad hand. I spank it with my right hand. You might call it clapping, but I call it discipline.
Good things come to those who ate. And I’m stuffed. Like a teddy bear. That might be why I’m the World Cuddling Champion.
She sees things — things that might happen, things that are coming. But it’s very subjective. The future isn’t set in stone. Things change.
But then there's loneliness. However you might philosophise about it, loneliness is a terrible thing, my dear fellow… Although in reality, of course, it's absolutely of no importance!
I am greedy with water. I made your apology tea dry. I’m sorry. You might try snorting it out of the bag.
Just got done giving my cat a haircut and eating dinner. The two events are unrelated, though I might cough up a hairball later on.
Yes, I am white now,' said Gandalf. 'Indeed I am Saruman, one might almost say, Saruman as he should have been.
This is the fly in the ointment of free-market capitalism. It cannot ensure that profits are gained in a fair way, or distributed in a fair manner. On the contrary, the craving to increase profits and production blinds people to anything that might s...
What exactly does that expression even mean? An ass that won’t quit? Think about the primary function of an ass—I’d think that’s the sort of thing you might want to quit.
Upon the lips of babes asleep I saw light embracing light and so allowed my syllables to rest there as a prayer they might sing in their dreams...
Oh Lestat, you deserved everything that's ever happened to you. You better not die. You might actually go to hell.
Work is when you confront the problems you might otherwise be tempted to run away from
Sometimes, as in a game of chess, we must strategically regress so that we might progress toward our ultimate objective.
Blessings be on this house," Granny said, perfunctorily. It was always a good opening remark for a witch. It concentrated people's minds on what other things might be on this house.
As long as she was falling in love with me, I might as well start making her promises I didn't intend to keep.
Death was like an unpleasant neighbor. You didn’t talk about him for fear he might hear you and decide to pay a visit.
He blinked at the sun and dreamt that perhaps he might snare it and spare it as it went down to its resting place amidst the distant hills.
But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water, rest within arm's length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then I'll rest.
He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!
If the afterlife really is a big war,” Kaladin said, “then I hope I end up in Damnation. At least there I might be able to get a wink or two of sleep.
He stared at her the way folks stare at a rainbow, taking in all that unexpected beauty, not wanting to look away in case it might disappear.
