The Mad Affliction's arm shot out of the cage, grasping for me. I jumped back. His long, ragged talons swiped the air in front of me. "Free me!" the Mad Affliction cried. He grasped for Bethany, but she backed away, too. "Free me and know the living ...
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think; ’T is strange, the shortest letter which man uses Instead of speech, may form a las...
It’s not okay,” I tell her. This gets her attention; it’s not what she was expecting. “You don’t have to be okay.” “What do you want from me?” Her voice is ragged, desperate. “I want you to let yourself be broken. Let yourself hurt....
He lifted his head, staring into her eyes as if searching for something. Voice ragged, he said, "I told you I'm a possessive man, Eleri. I want to keep you, mount you, fill you, but even as I hold you like this... I am still your captive. Have mercy ...
Elizabeth walked past just as Mrs. Ferguson, pulling down her wide-brimmed hat, announced that teenagers today were the most inconsiderate creatures she had ever seen. 'I'm afraid I have to agree with you,' Elizabeth had heard her twin say mournfully...
Is this, Miriam wonders, what they call the march of history? And even if she doesn't fully understand, it doesn't mean she can't appreciate the need, the periodic need for some people to resort to gasoline, rags, and matches. Doesn't it always come ...
Ah for pittie, wil ranke Winters rage, These bitter blasts neuer ginne tasswage? The keene cold blowes throug my beaten hyde, All as I were through the body gryde. My ragged rontes all shiver and shake, As doen high Towers in an earthquake: They wont...
I draw in a ragged breath, the kind you take when the pain is too deep to cry, when you can't cry because all you are is pain, and if you let some of it out, you might cease to exist. I want to do something to make this better, even though I know tha...
He had never been interested in stories at any age, and had never quite understood the basic concept. He'd never read a work of fiction all the way through. He did remember, as a small boy, being really annoyed at the depiction of Hickory Dickory Doc...
...most ghosts are a rag and a bone and a hank of hair at best--a memory fragment stuck on continual loop, just dust and PKE and water-vapour with no real "there" there. Leftover fragments of psychic energy deluded into believing in their own persona...
Besides, what was more perfect an object than a book? The different rags of paper, smooth or rough under your fingers. The edge of the page pressed into your thumbprint as you turned a new chapter. The way your bookmark -fancy, modest, scrap paper, c...
When he died, I went about like a ragged crow telling strangers, "My father died, my father died." My indiscretion embarrassed me, but I could not help it. Without my father on his Delhi rooftop, why was I here? Without him there, why should I go bac...
The idea of our own rationality...was convincing to us only because we so wished to be convinced. To any impartial observer, could such a thing exist, the sham was patent. Emotion and instinct were the basis of all our decisions, our actions, everyth...
Rapunzel took a ragged breath and called back, “What are you?” “Pardon?” “What are you,” she asked again, frustration mingling with her fear, “What sort of beast are you? Are you a wolf?” “Does a wolf walk on two legs? I am a man.�...
Frank: I am going to get something to drink. You want anything? Grandpa: Yeah, get me some porn. Get me something really nasty too, I don't want any of that airbrushed shit. Frank: Okay. Grandpa: Okay, here's a $20. Get yourself a little treat too, g...
Willard: [voice-over] Everybody wanted me to do it, him most of all. I felt like he was up there, waiting for me to take the pain away. He just wanted to go out like a soldier, standing up, not like some poor, wasted, rag-assed renegade. Even the jun...
The mainland can stretch until it breaks at the weakest points, and those weaknesses are called faults. Each island represented a victory and a defeat: it had either pulled itself free or pulled too hard and found itself alone. Later, as these island...
A page of a book is like a human face. Look at a page by Hemingway and compare it with Sterne and Marcel Proust. They are different typographical beings. But force upon them those ragged edges, and the influence of the author’s style on the physica...
It occurred to me that my cheek was probably right over his tattoo. Without thinking, I lifted my face and tugged at the neckline of his T-shirt. This time, the stark black-and-gold mark wasn't hidden. No need for that spell anymore, I guess. Still, ...
Our souls demand Purgatory, don’t they? Would it not break the heart if God said to us, “It is true, my son, that your breath smells and your rags drip with mud and slime, but we are charitable here and no one will upbraid you with these things, ...
I did not know the work of mourning Is like carrying a bag of cement Up a mountain at night The mountaintop is not in sight Because there is no mountaintop Poor Sisyphus grief I did not know I would struggle Through a ragged underbrush Without an upw...
