I had a dream about you. We were in the midst of WWIII and we both got drafted. I told the government the only thing I shoot is water guns, because I’m a farmer. I grow peace, and the whole world wants my crop.
Tears streamed down my face. I was so happy I wanted to shout it from the rooftop. But at the same time I knew that that afternoon's downpour would have made the slate tiles so slippery that achieving any kind of purchase would have been impossible.
Having reached 451 books as of now doesn't help the situation. If I were to be dying now, I would be murmuring, "Too bad! Only four hundred fifty-one." (Those would be my next-to-last words. The last ones will be: "I love you, Janet.") [They were. -J...
I write like if the color yellow had legs and could run a marathon while reclining back in a comfy sofa. I want some coffee, but I’m too lazy to get off my couch and go lick the carpet where I spilled some earlier.
Her cold, dead body was as stiff as a mannequin, but that didn’t stop me from asking her to dance. I was confident that even as a corpse she’d still have more fluidity on the dance floor than the cup of coffee I’d just frozen and stuffed in my ...
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange—nay, rather, stranger tha...
Am I really admitting that my sister is determined to marry a man she has only seen once and doesn't much like the look of? It is half real and half pretense - and I have an idea that it is a game most girls play when they meet an eligible young men....
Your love for your friend should be grounded in Me, and for My sake you should love whoever seems to be good and is very dear to you in this life. Without Me friendship has no strength and cannot endure. Love which I do not bind is neither true nor p...
Names I am most commonly called by telemarketers: Simone, Slain, Siobhan, Flo, Stacey, Susan, Slater, Leanne, and Slow (Yes, my parents named me "Slow". That's because they hate me and made me sleep in the linen closet subsisting only on bath salts a...
Ah, damn it, lass,'he called after her. 'I've busted my stitches wide open.' 'What?'she cried, hurrying back to him. 'Let me see!' 'Ah-ha!' He snared her around the waist, dragging her down with him to his lap.'You still care for me!
The bastard. How dare he? I was drowning in a fucking river that he was still attempting to save me from, and he was telling me he was going to push me back in and hold me under. My father's death had nearly destroyed me. Cal's death would finish me.
I saw on his face a glimpse of his past. The damage, the unhappiness and the pain, and I wondered what kind of skeletons he has been hiding and for how long. It’s one of those mutual attraction moments that are unexplainable, but as real as anythin...
Those static images have the uncanny ability to jar the memory and bring places and people back to life. They bridge the present with the past and validate as real what the passage of time has turned into hazy recollections. Were it not for them, my ...
If I would have known I was going to leave my job that day to become a writer, I probably would have planned differently... It didn't come by way of illness per se, accident, or dismissal, but by way of sheer self-mutiny. The self I was born to be, d...
My mother used to say that rain here pours like a blessing, like a thick veil that parts to reveal the bride's face. But nearly every day, when this rain parted, it revealed a long line of soldiers, like you, like death, marching toward us, and we wo...
Finally, Dageus finished, and she heard Gwen and Chloe say simultaneously, breathlessly, "Oh, my ." Gabby opened her eyes. Drustan had risen to his feet and was scowling, an expression mirrored by his twin. Both were glaring at Adam--whom they obviou...
The cops came by and said my nemesis had been poisoned, shot, stabbed, beaten, hung, drowned, and subjected to Gilbert Gottfried’s voice at a high decibel level. “Ah,” I said, “so you suspect his death was a suicide.
Suddenly, however, the dastardly department of my personality presented two plans, one of which involved dynamite, mustache wax, some rope, and train tracks . . . which I rejected due to financial investment.
She was Bloomingdale’s, not Victoria Secret. She was vanilla, not peach. She was Paul Reiser, not Lenny Bruce. This was not my kind of chick.
I swallowed the fear. It’s always there– fear– and if you don’t stay on top of it, you’ll drown. I swallowed again and stood tall, shoulders broad, arms loose. I was balanced, ready to move. My body said, “Yeah, you’re bigger and strong...
You don’t understand,’ I said. ‘I need to be with her. With every fibre of my being I ache for her. I’m in love.’ ‘I do understand,’ said Zoran. ‘It was same for me with Mrs Zoran when I first meet her. But the feeling goes away after...
