Antonia José Bolivar préférait ne plus penser, laissant béantes les profondeurs de sa mémoire pour les remplir de bonheur et de tourments d'amour plus éternels que le temps.
I once overheard someone telling someone else "Don't confuse kindness with something else." Even though this was not directed at me, I took heed and never hedged my bets.
We invent fictions in order to live somehow the many lives we would like to lead when we barely have one at our disposal.
I have done what people do, my life makes a reasonable showing. Can I go back to my books now?
My impulse now, as then, is to disagree. The majority of people in this country who haunt bookstores, go to readings and book festivals or simply read in the privacy of their homes are not traumatized exiles.
Time past and time future What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present.” (Four Quartets)
I have never read The Joy of Crap. Sounds disgusting. I have, however, read The Joy of Sex. Not in a while, but I think it's one of those classics you can come back to again... and again.
Loving you has been worse than an addiction to drugs. At least I don't have the drugs c r a w l i n g into my bed at night.
Her heart may be cracked, but it is pure. She may be jaded, but she is hopeful. She may be broken, but she is strong. She may be here, but she will leave.
In my illustrious career as a university student, I turned in over 100 papers so that one day, in the end, I got 1 paper in return.
It's the person that calls you up because they're eating at ‘our favorite spot,’ and it made them think of you and miss being there with you. That's a friend, to me.
Keeping busy is the hardest part. When I find myself still, clear of thoughts, I can still feel you holding me.
If there's something I'm not good at, it's usually because I just organically despise it. I can't help that. I'm fabulous at too many other things to waste my time faking it.
Every morning the first thing I do is serve my husband a bowl full of praises. More then his stomach I try to keep his ego full.
Some of us walk around with a necklace of hope, an armour of sanity, but at the end of the day, they always come off. We reveal our naked, vulnerable, real selves.
He danced across my heart like a pirate, Constantly discovering my secrets, Turning over every hidden treasure, Drowning me in his fantasy.
Madeleine Albright says, “There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women.” I wonder what happens to women who bully other women.
You might never comprehend my madness. But it stands behind my undying love for you. You're the object of my everything. I’m sorry I’ve been stupid lately.
Twitter has the sustained ability to not get all touchy when I forget to “favorite” and thus had me at the first entirely inappropriate tweet flung my way.
It's true what they say, Love is a wicked game, A game so wickedly played, I am at your command in your wicked games.
Eliminate the overwhelming cost of phantom wars and fools' errands, and humankind might begin to balance its books. After all, its only debts are to itself.
