One of my favorites is chilaquiles. It's corn tortilla chips in a simple, brothy tomato sauce with a little chile for heat. It's wonderfully homey. It has irresistible crispy bits and I love to eat it. And you can play around with it - add chicken, s...
Female computerized voice: Welcome to Voiceprint Identification. When you see the red light go on, would you please state in the following order: your destination, your nationality, and your full name; surname first, Christian name and initial.
My mother's favorite photograph was one of herself at twenty-four years old, unbearably beautiful, utterly glamorous, in a black-straw cartwheel hat, dark-red lipstick, and a smart black suit, her notepad on a cocktail table. I know nothing about tha...
What’s left of what your body was —once the girl with bare shoulder blades , giggling, once the girl galloping an imaginary horse, once the girl sleeping in her sequined red dress— was now ash in a jar. Grains of bone. But then, I knew it wasn�...
The first red carpet I did was at New York's Paris Theatre... It was this beautiful night, and everyone is screaming my name. I'm the least pretentious actress you can ever meet. Someone said to me that I look like I've been doing this forever, and I...
My wife is a lovely leathery green, the blue-tongued lizard said; Her eyes are as red as bulldog ants, lurking in holes in her head; Her body is made of the speckled grass, a violet grows on her tongue, And I could watch her for fifty years if nobody...
My job is to support businesses, that means promoting British commerce in the big emerging markets that have been neglected in the past. It means keeping Britain open to inward investors, trade and skilled workers. It means cutting red tape which is ...
Walking down the red carpet, suddenly I felt very special and different. All the flashlights from cameras and requesting voices from the media, the scene, it was just like what I remembered seeing on TV or a movie when I was a little girl - the scene...
I have known the joy and pain of friendship. I have served and been served. I have made some good enemies for which I am not a bit sorry. I have loved unselfishly, and I have fondled hatred with the red-hot tongs of Hell. That's living.
I used to hate getting dressed, getting in front of the camera and walking down the red carpet. It bothered me because I felt like I couldn't be what they wanted me to be. Now it's still not my favorite thing, but I get through it a lot easier becaus...
He lifted his head, the sight of his dark, disheveled hair, eyes glinting with longing in the lamp light, the gorgeous spread of his shoulders, tapering down to the narrow thrust of his hips, made my ovaries ache deep in my belly.
Once when he was still young, I saw a bit of his scalp showing through his hair and I was afraid. But it was just a cowlick. Now sometimes it shows through for real, but I feel only tenderness.
My fingers slipped into his thick, black hair and held tightly. He paused, not wanting to pull away. I didn’t let him. I was going to say goodbye properly. I held tightly, pressing my lips to his, soft at first then hard with desire.
Yes, Marya thought, the smell of woodsmoke and old snow pushing back her long black hair. Magic does that. It wastes you away. Once it grips you by the ear, the real world gets quieter and quieter, until you can hardly hear it at all.
You need a man, Kara. A man you can open up to. A man whose passion for life matches yours. A man who grabs your hair in big fistfuls and twists and pulls it when he's fucking you. A man willing to walk wire for you.
She looked at him, his soft brown eyes and tall form, and contemplated raising herself on her toes and kissing his ear, or his cheek... Instead, impulsively before leaving, she reached up and smoothed his mussed hair. Mr. Bradford beamed.
Her hands flew to her mouth. 'Are we even twins?' Josh rested his hand on her shoulder and brought his forehead to rest against hers, strands of their blond hair mingling. 'I will always be your brother, Sophie. I will always look after you.
At forty-one, he was still the quintessential bad boy—charming, at ease in his skin, and great-looking, with deep blue eyes, slicked-back brown hair, and the kind of full, sensuous mouth that bad boys seemed to have an unfair market on.
He stroked her hair gently as he said, “You challenge me like no one ever has, like no one has ever dared. It’s frustrating…” he kissed her lips chastely, “…but also refreshing. And sometimes it even turns me on a little.
All right," Shannen says slowly, tucking a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. "Why did you glue that dolphin upside down?" Okay, so I'm a little distracted. "He's doing the back stroke.
Then he heard a wild, high-pitched cackling that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. It wasn't sane, that laugh. In fact, it was the laughter of someone who never had more than a nodding acquaintance with sanity.
