Later she remembered all the hours of the afternoon as happy -- one of those uneventful times that seem at the moment only a link between past and future pleasure, but turn out to have been the pleasure itself.
What is on that memory stick, if you don’t mind me asking?” She was following him back into his apartment when he asked, and realized she still clutched it. “Something I never want to see again.
When the I AM THAT I AM made nothing And rested, which rest it certainly deserved, Night now accompanied day, and man Had his friend in the absence of the woman.
It seemed that hell could appear day or night, at any time, at any place, simply in response to one's thoughts or wishes. It seemed that we could summon it at our pleasure and that instantly it would appear.
Due to its late nature, tomorrow morning will start after tonight. People say early morning, but it’s later than late at night, so I say it’s entirely too decadent for me to be a part of.
Every night I cuddle with a blob of unbaked clay I fashioned in the shape of a woman. But that’s what being in love is all about.
I like instant gratification. It’s like instant coffee, only it won’t keep you up all night.
At night my shadow multiplies, and clones itself into total darkness. Half of all nudists hate me half the time, and half love me half the time. Sadly for me, the half who love me are the fat ones.
If you’re looking for someone to stand in the unemployment line, I’m the man for the job. And if you’re looking for a man who will make love to you all night long, then I’m the man for the job. I will help you find that man.
Yeah, the whole family knows. It's no big deal. One night at dinner I said, 'Mom, you know the forbidden love that Spock has for Kirk? Well, me too.' It was easier for her to understand that way.
I'm a killer, Gabrielle.” He snarled the words at her. “That's all you need to know. Is that what you want sliding into your bed every night, lass? Touching your body with hands that were soaked in blood minutes before?
Tell me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest, Was not spoken of...
For two years, she and Cassie had been inseparable. And then one night, Cassie had disappeared from her bed. In her place, her abductor had left his calling card, a macabre nursery rhyme. Cassie had never come home.
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.
The memory of the previous nights fun and games rose again. Hell this whole week had been weird. With the attack at the boat launch being the shit flavored ice cream on top of the crazy pie.
CUSTOMER: I’m always on night shift at work. BOOKSELLER (jokingly): Is that why you’re buying so many vampire novels? CUSTOMER (seriously): You can never be too prepared.
Money had no name, of course. And if it did have a name, it would no longer be money. What gave money its true meaning was its dark-night namelessness, its breathtaking interchangeability.
There is not a day or night but a doe offers her life for her kittens, or some honest captain of Owsla his life for his Chief Rabbit's. Sometimes it is taken, sometimes it is not. But there is no bargain, for here, what is, is what must be.
Outside the drizzling rain had begun again. It pattered around the house, and on the roofs and eaves, like a million, tiny, stealthy feet: softly, as though the night were teeming with a host of minute, dark beings.
In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.
My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.
