Es probable que haya que tomar decisiones, y sorpresas te deparan. La vida nos lleva a lugares insospechados a veces. El futuro nunca está escrito en piedra, recuerda eso.
I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you.
You'll forgive the flowery talk, won't you? Our family does so love to be told they are beautiful. Vanity is an old and venerable habit.
It was a night where the rogue drow felt tiny, and yet grand, a part of something ancient, eternal, and as vast as his imagination and as warm as the love among these five freinds surrounding him ...
Lean on me,” someone says in Jane Austen to a woman he scarcely knows, and there’s no question but that she will, that she takes it for granted.
Family is just accident, Jessie. It's nothing personal, hon. They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are.
No, no. Don't make that face. Every time I propose to you, you make that twisty, unhappy face. It wears on a man's confidence.
You’re my home, Susanna. My home, my heart, my dearest love. Wherever you are, that’s where I belong. Always.” - Victor Bramwell, Earl of Rycliff
I've given up reading the papers. Since the world's so obviously bent on killing itself, I decided months ago to sit back and let it.
We hold our dreams and ideals close to our hearts, where the promises are made to the future generations.
I doubt that the imagination can be suppressed. If you truly eradicated it in a child, he would grow up to be an eggplant.
So what, you assumed you’d show up before the dance and I’d magically be ready to go? I need warning to get beautiful.
That was what his mom always said. She was probably right. Last time he talked to a werewolf, he ended up dating her.
People who have monsters recognize each other. They know each other without even saying a word.
If the library in the morning suggests an echo of the severe and reasonable wishful order of the world, the library at night seems to rejoice in the world's essential, joyful muddle.
animals never worry about Heaven or Hell. neither do I. maybe that's why we get along
The day here is a something without value, a mere torment suffered by living creatures as they await the night. Night is deliverance.
A teacher had once told them that men were either beasts, gentlemen, or beasts masquerading as gentlemen. Might there be a fourth category — gentlemen masquerading as beasts?
The autumn twilight turned into deep and early night as they walked. Tristran could smell the distant winter on the air--a mixture of night-mist and crisp darkness and the tang of fallen leaves.
You worry that we're becoming monsters. Merlin, we already were monsters. You didn't make us any worse.
I had a date last night with my boyfriend on batteries. What does a girl have to do to get laid by a real penis?
