I'm a big old romantic.
That's what my mother doesn't understand about my lipstick and dark clothes. I don't wear tattoos to freak her out; I wear them because I have to. It's me.
I feel nothing.” Crouching down beside her, Bercelak took a cloth from off the table and placed it over the wound. “Nothing? You feel no pain?” “Oh. I feel pain. Lots of pain. But nothing else.
Silena appeared out of the woods, her sword drawn. Her Aphrodite armour was pink and red, colour coordinated to match her clothes and makeup. She looked like Guerilla Warfare Barbie.
Strange clothes you wear, Child of the Dragon. Has the Wheel turned so far? Do the People of the Dragon return to the first Covenant? But you wear a sword. That is neither now nor then.
If we knew what we are, we should do as Sir Arthur Jermyn did; and Arthur Jermyn soaked himself in oil and set first to his clothing one night.
Keep your handkerchief neat, and then you can be trusted with a bigger clothe. If you can’t manage few minutes, you are likely to waste 24 hours no matter how many times it’s given to you!
... that gender is a choice, or that gender is a role, or that gender is a construction that one puts on, as one puts on clothes in the morning, that there is a 'one' who is prior to this gender, a one who goes to the wardrobe of gender and decides w...
We biblioholics have different priorities. We've got all our clothes in our suitcase in two minutes flat, and then we spend three hours and fifty-eight minutes deciding which books to bring.
Talking to a therapist, I thought, was like taking your clothes off and then taking your skin off, and then having the other person say, "Would you mind opening up your rib cage so that we can start?
Ta-da!" The man whipped open his coat. Shit! He wasn't wearing any clothes at all. She grimaced. Just her luck to go vampire hunting and find a flasher.
A blanket could be used to keep me from exploding. My patience is wearing thin, and my clothes are also wearing thin, and in some spots you can see through the material, so a blanket would hold all that back.
Love is a madman, working his wild schemes, tearing off his clothes, running through the mountains, drinking poison, and now quietly choosing annihilation.
By the way, your clothes look so damn hot on you, but I’ve got a feeling they’ll look even better on my bedroom floor later.
Growing up, I had a terrible pudding-bowl haircut. I used to cut it myself, and I'd sew my own clothing, too. I looked a little strange compared to the other kids. But the thing was, I felt I looked amazing, so what other people thought never bothere...
As a designer, when someone wears my clothes, the biggest compliment I can receive is that the woman looks amazing because my designs have flattered her, not taken over her. I take that philosophy to heart myself each morning when I am getting ready ...
The human soul is hungry for beauty; we seek it everywhere - in landscape, music, art, clothes, furniture, gardening, companionship, love, religion, and in ourselves. No one would desire not to be beautiful. When we experience the beautiful, there is...
You are rotting away, you are falling to pieces. What are you? A bag of filth. Now turn around and look into that mirror again. Do you see that thing facing you? That is the last man. If you are human, that is humanity. Now put your clothes on again.
Let love flow out of you in big and small acts of kindness. Love is kindness with its work clothes on.
His clothes were clean, but his mustache was dirty. He must have used it as a brush to scrub his pants. I’ll bet his coffee tastes like freedom.
Her clothes were half off—a sale, not a strip tease. Watching her shop was as hot as a fresh cup of coffee, and that’s why I had a wad of dollar bills.
