The three children had hear the story of the Duene lovers, but they interpreted it differently. And it does not matter, ultimately, what they heard or even what they knew. It is how they interpret the story that will make all the difference.
I am a lover of what is, not because I'm a spiritual person, but because it hurts when I argue with reality.
But don't blame me for the food. My wife knows a hundred and one ways to incinerate a cow, and as far as I can tell she's still experimenting.
And that is how we are. By strength of will we cut off our inner intuitive knowledge from admitted consciousness. This causes a state of dread, or apprehension, which makes the blow ten times worse when it does fall.
Beyond the window, a breeze gently gusted―and she heard it―ever so softly, just beyond the panes. Like a forlorn lover, dark waters were wooing her, a wily whispering, gently insistent― Chrissstaaa… Chrisssstaaaaa…
All the great words, it seemed to Connie were cancelled, for her generation: love, joy, happiness, home, mother, father, husband, all these great, dynamic words were half dead now and dying from day to day.
Okay, okay, okay … go to your corners, boys. This is a nice Aubusson carpet you’re standing on. You get blood on it and I’ll have Fritz so far up my ass I’ll be coughing on his hankie.
He had short hair. The technical term is bald. I’m sure he would have made a better lover if he were wearing a Donald Trump wig.
Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved. The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body and soul completely in its he...
I want him to burn for me, to not be able to go a day without touching me, holding me, caressing me. He’ll be an excellent lover. I want a man who knows how to please me,
It makes you ache,” he whispered, and she watched the curve of his lips in the darkness. “You’ll make any promise, swear any oath. For one… perfect… unsoiled taste.
I’d hang a walrus on my wall, and I’d name him Russ. But I’m not a hunter—I’m a lover and a fisherman. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, if you want to take off your pants and wash up.
I eat overcast skies for breakfast, because sunlight isn’t filling enough. As a lover, I’m a bring-my-own-umbrella kind of guy, because a soup bowl doesn’t offer enough space or protection.
When you carry a gun, everything starts looking like a sword. If you pass the butter too quickly, I’m likely to shoot you. But even if you attack me, we can still be lovers.
Lover’s Lane is so narrow only unicycles can travel down it. My high school teachers didn’t call me “The Babe Ruth of the Bicycle” for nothing. It’s too bad they didn’t call me that, because it was accurate.
I’m a Pisces, and people say that Pisces make the best the best lovers. That’s because Pisces are fish, and it’s like my grandpa always used to say, “The next best thing to making love to a mermaid, is having sex with a fish.
I’m as efficient as a fish ant, I’m as mythical as a productive government employee, and I’m the kind of lover your mother would approve of. Ask her—she’ll tell you how good I am in bed.
The two lovers were inseparable. Well, I guess death could split them up. So could Ryan Gosling, because she has a thing for him. So does he, matter of fact.
He envied straight couples the easy openness of their relationships. At that moment, he would've given anything to know what it was like to take his lover's hand without a second's consideration for what anyone else might think, or do.
I never loved anyone else and never desired to. She was my companion, my lover, and my teacher.
Never had we ever kissed as lovers; if we touched lips it was as brother and sister. In one moment of emotion, our lips fell together by accident, but we quickly removed ourselves as though we were children touching glass with dirty hands.
