I love the relationship that anyone has with music ... because there's something in us that is beyond the reach of words, something that eludes and defies our best attempts to spit it out. ... It's the best part of us probably ...
Yes, I'm hungry. Horny, too! The thought of feeding from you is a most delectable idea and it's playing havoc with my brain as well as other parts of my body." He sat up and scooted closer to me...
The basket would never make her famous or end up in a museum. The best part of it was the making of it, sitting at the table weaving while outside the lake crashed into shore and the seagulls roosted somewhere for the night and two women stopped for ...
I find I am constantly being encouraged to pluck out some one aspect of myself and present this as the meaningful whole, eclipsing or denying the other parts of self.
I was going to make him forget, too. He would forget every woman who came before me, every moment that I wasn’t a part of, every dream he had that didn’t include me. Starting now.
Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of acting to his mother's account; and it was happy for her that he had a mother whose character was so imperfectly known to her, as to be the general excuse for every thing strange on the part of he...
That's how it is with relationships, it's a part of life, and all the great love songs and poems and films have been written by people who were standing where I was that morning as Simon shut the door. Doesn't make it any easier though.
My strength was returning as we went on. It occurred to me then that it was in times of struggle that I found the best parts of myself-courage, loyalty, an unexpected peace- and I always discovered what I needed to break through and go on.
When less than everything has been said about a subject, you can still think on further. The alternative is for the audience to be presented with a final deduction (...) no effort on their part. What can it mean to them when they have not shared with...
I was assailed by memories of a life that wasn't mine anymore, but one in which I'd found the simplest and most lasting joys: the smells of summer, the part of town I loved, a certain evening sky, Marie's dresses and the way she laughed.
But when they brought Sabira out, the crowd parted almost magically. A sea of hands rose faster than a swell and a bidding war commenced, amongst these civilized gentlemen who made their living off the backs of slaves.
They had parted as boys, and now life presented one of them with a fugitive and the other with a dying man. Both wondered whether this was due to the cards they'd been dealt or to the way they had played them.
I looked at the group of human remains that languished in the corner and smiled at them. It occurred to me that their very presence was testimony to the moral emptiness of the universe and the mechanical brutality with which it destroys the parts it ...
I closed my eyes and immediately I pictured Brooklyn’s full lips parted on a moan, her eyes glassy and her pupils dilated, her cheeks flushed and her body…her smoking body bared only for me.
Remember this—the journey is part of the dream. Whatever it is you're chasing, so long as you are actively moving in the right direction, the dream is coming true.
It seemed that everyone else could mate, could fit their parts together in pleasant and productive ways, but that some almost indistinguishable difference in my anatomy and psyche set me slightly, yet irrevocably, apart.
This thing that troubles you is only one small part of your life. Don't allow it to be all-consuming when there's so much more to embrace.
Aiden had filled a part of my heart that I hadn’t known was empty. And for that I’d be forever grateful. Beneath the pain was the reality of the end of whatever it was we’d shared. I missed him, and his absence was profound. He was everywhere, ...
I had never liked bullying of any sort, especially when an individual acquires his courage by becoming part of a faceless mob. I always say if you need fake courage, get it out of a bottle like I do.
...what happens tomorrow is the future but what happened yesterday is already part of on-going history...
When a woman thinks her husband is a fool, her marriage is over. They may part in one year or ten; they may live together until death. But if she thinks he is a fool, she will not love him again.
