Love is the most precious gift you could ever possibly hope to steal. Some women foolishly do not leave their rib cages locked at night.
Don't live in a world of 'I never should have'. Regret is a terrible burden to carry through life. It stoops your shoulders and keeps you looking down at the ground rather than up at the stars.
That night, Hallie was relieved when Linda Soares, the town librarian who'd spent years trying to impress Nick with her low-cut shirts and book recommendations, joined them for dinner.
I was born on the night of Samhain, when the barrier between the worlds is whisper-thin and when magic, old magic, sings its heady and sweet song to anyone who cares to hear it.
Some have won a wild delight, By daring wilder sorrow; Could I gain thy love to-night, I'd hazard death to-morrow.
This was after stew. But then, so is everything. When the first man crawled out of the slime and went to make his home on land, what he had for dinner that night was stew.
I must be overtired', Buttercup managed. 'The excitement and all.' 'Rest then', her mother cautioned. 'Terrible things can happen when you're overtired. I was overtired the night your father proposed.
I wasn't sleeping on the streets at night. Of course, there were a lot of good people sleeping in the streets. They weren't fools, they just didn't fit into the needed machinery of the moment. And those needs kept altering.
I didn't know you would be here last night, but you were. We can't fight fate. Instead, we must accept that fate has given us a special opportunity.
Oppression Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers. In some lands Dark night And cold steel Prevail-- But the dream Will come back, And the song Break Its jail.
Your cunning has proved to be that of Cain. I grant you power over the Hellmouth. May Samael take my revenge." The thing said with a bitter look and a voice that seemed to be many.
Hades cracked his knuckles on each hand, and the noise was like gunpowder caps exploding in the silence. "First dish duty," he mumbled to himself, "now possessed cowboys. This just isn't my night.
Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music of the night.
Many a night I woke to the murmer of paper and knew (Dad) was up, sitting in the kitchen with frayed King James - oh, but he worked that book; he held to it like a rope ladder.
The snow was too light to stay, the ground too warm to keep it. And the strange spring snow fell only in that golden moment of dawn, the turning of the page between night and day.
That night he ate so much spaghetti, Mom said he was in danger of turning into a big noodle, which made him laugh so hard, he fell out of his chair.
I could hear an old man in the stall next to ours sucking a hustler’s cock; I thought of animals gathering at a salt lick during the night near a cave: carnivore rubbing shoulders with deer.
And I feel like a real Dad when I read to her at night. She won't sleep without one story, at least.
You had been a paper boy to me all these years - two dimensions as a character on the page and two different, but still flat, dimensions as a person. But that night you turned out to be real.
I had failed him; I knew it. But I could do no more. It was beyond my strength. That night, I think, he explored the uttermost depths of his loneliness.
Have you ever seen the stars in the night? See them closely, they will tell you, how to be open, how to love and how to shine and twinkle without any differences and jealousy of other stars.
