Governments are too stupid to understand that too much red tape does not bind a nation together—it tears it apart.
A pattern of raised crisscrossed scars, some old and white, others more recent in various shades of pink and red. Exposing the stress of the structure underneath its paint
A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums.
And her lips: so inviting, bathed in shimmering wet, dark red gloss. They were meant for only two things, kissing and making love to your cock.
The Red Cross irritated Ugwu; the least they could do was ask Biafrans their preferred foods rather than sending so much bland flour.
The real Julian Wells didn't die in a cherry-red convertible, overdosing on a highway in Joshua Tree while a choir soared over the sound track.
I'm afraid my voice is going to break. I am afraid she is going to hear how much this hurts.
You just don't have faith!" Frank repeated. "Well I hope I never get it! It's like being hit by a hammer in the head!
It is a great comfort to a rambling people to know that somewhere there is a permanent home--perhaps it is the most final of the comforts they ever really know.
Miz Ellen, what do you carry in that handbag of yours that has enough wallop to knock down a full-grown man? - Dan Landry
I envied Lesley her unshakable optimism. She always looked on the bright side of things. If they Had a bright side.
Personally, I do not want to make you a man. Men are so very frail. Men break. Men die. No, I’ve always wished to make a god.
Maybe I should think of nothing at all? But that was passion impossible. As soon as I tried to thinking of anything, millions of ideas flooded my brain.
Life. All this. Why do they need to make us do this? Why do they treat us like we're their slaves?" "Power." "Power isn't real. It's just a word.
Finally, she mused that human existence is as brief as the life of autumn grass, so what was there to fear from taking chances with your life?
Wirewalker, trust your feet! Let them lead you; they know the way.
If I could tell you about Red I would sing to you of fire Sweet like cherries Burning like cinnamon Smelling like a rose in the sun
Her mouth was a gash of red, like the torn-open stomach of a sacrifice, bloody and oracular. Behind it her teeth shone sharp and white as bone.
Where there is a true art and genuine virtuosity the artist can paint an incomparable masterpiece without leaving even a trace of his identity.
When red fights with white, pink is always the winner. Let that be a lesson in love.
Advice about love: When the green grape turns red, it’s time to separate the socks from the mittens.
