Nobody can be as agreeable as an uninvited guest.
The only grown-up other than Jacob who ever came into his schoolroom was Eli Willard. School was in session one day when the Connecticut itinerant reappeared after long absence, bringing Jacob's glass and other merchandise. Jacob seized him and prese...
The three of you were pretty cute last night, with all that touchy-feely crap." "Yeah, that lasted for about two minutes before you dragged Evan back over to the bar." "Dude, we were hunting Turkey. [drinking bourbon] it was important." Chris grins. ...
I will grant you one wish, for your birthday. Anything at all, except sex.” “Wait…what?” “You heard me. So what do you want?” Grayson questioned, keeping calm about the whole thing. Konnor thought those words over in his head again. He wa...
Mrs. X: Henry, may I speak to you a minute? Over here. Did you and Mary have sexual intercourse? Henry Spencer: [stammering] Why? Mrs. X: Did you? Henry Spencer: Why are you asking me this question? Mrs. X: I have a very good reason, and now I want y...
Jake La Motta: Did you fuck my wife? Joey LaMotta: What? Jake La Motta: Did you fuck my wife? Joey LaMotta: [pauses] How do you ask me that? I'm your brother and you ask me that? Where do you get you're balls big enough to ask me that? Jake La Motta:...
Sick Boy: Good chips! Mark "Rent-boy" Renton: ...I can't believe you did that... Sick Boy: I got a good price for it! Rents I need the money! Mark "Rent-boy" Renton: IT WAS MY FUCKING TELLY! Sick Boy: Well, Christ. If I knew you were going to get so ...
If the way you've been treating me is a mark of fondness, maybe you'd better take a fresh look at your interpersonal communication skills.
A romantic man often feels more uplifted with two women than with one: his love seems to hit the ideal mark somewhere between two different faces.
The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.
wondered Sophronia, not quite realizing that this, too, was a mark of her new education. Many was the lady whose belief in another's sound judgment was based solely upon that other judging favorably.
Warmblood now a bloodborne death, Will rob your body of it's breath Mark your skin and seal your fate The Underland becomes a plate
He said when the Lord made people He made them all the same for starters. But life marks people. If you know the way, you can read them like maps.
I love to hear myself talk, because I get so much instruction and moral upheaval out of it.
This, she realizes, is the basis of all fear. That a light you are powerless to stop will turn on you and usher a bullet to its mark.
But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
Death is not such a bad thing. What would be a bad thing would be living without challenges. Without knowing defeat, we cannot know what victory is. There is no life without death.
I could hear him laughing. Son of a bit*h. I would kill him. I didn't care if he was coyote or the son of Satan.He was a dead man walking.
All choice of words is slang. It marks a class.” “There is correct English: that is not slang.” “I beg your pardon: correct English is the slang of prigs who write history and essays. And the strongest slang of all is the slang of poets.
It was one of those dangerous moments when speech is at once sincere and deceptive, when feeling, rising high above its average depth, leaves flood-marks which are never reached again.
A man must at times be hard as nails: willing to face up to the truth about himself, and about the woman he loves, refusing compromise when compromise is wrong. But he must also be tender. No weapon will breach the armor of a woman's resentment like ...
