It was in this pub he'd learnt that, contrary to the belief of the majority of those laying bets, it possible to flatten a hundred frogs with a hammer in less than thirty seconds. In short, it was a pub with a reputation. And very slimy walls.
Right now, I’m living like a piano is going to come plummeting from the sky any second, and I don’t know when. So it’s always like, this is it. This is all you’ve got left.
He recognized it and knew it. In others—clients, witnesses, or sometimes adversaries, he had seen or heard it: A gesture, a phrase, or a tone which exposed unintended truth in the beat of a second.
Sincere compliments cost nothing and can accomplish so much. In ANY relationship, they are the applause that refreshes.
At the beginning of a pestilence and when it ends, there's always a propensity for rhetoric. In the first case, habits have not yet been lost; in the second, they're returning. It is in the thick of a calamity that one gets hardened to the truth - in...
That's what nobody realizes. Two seconds are huge. It's the difference between something happening and something not happening. You could take one step too many and fall over the edge of a cliff. It's very dangerous.
Until the Second Coming, sin will remain a part of earthly existence. And as long as there is sin, there will be suffering and pain. But suffering by persecution is not a sine qua non of the church. If it is, there are few if any true churches in Nor...
Gravity disappears again, and we rise up off the floor like spooks from a grave. It's like the Rapture in here every thirty seconds.
These are delicious! What are they?" "Double chocolate chip with peanut butter filling." "They're the second best thing I've ever tasted." I laughed. "You said the same thing at dinner." "I recently readjusted the ranking.
The pain of an injury is over in seconds. Everything that comes after is the pain of getting well." He gave her a heartfelt look, full of apology. "I'd forgotten that you see. Coming back to life ... It hurts.
Alone for a few precious seconds, he drew in a deep breath. He stood on a ruined street in a ruined city. Destruction stretched for kilometers in every direction, all caused by a single man for whom vengeance had devolved into madness.
She said she loved me, and I didn’t believe it for a minute. Maybe 59 seconds, but not a whole minute. I may be gullible, but I’m not without an accurate way to measure time.
If love were a dolphin with wings and a unicorn’s horn, being ridden by a blind leprechaun dressed like Rasputin, would you believe in second chances for love at first sight?
I make love like I make coffins—with my bare hands, alone in my garage. On sale through Thursday—Buy One Funeral, Get A Second One Free!
I make love with my eyes closed, because I make love in my dreams. If you wanted to go for seconds, we could, because I make love buffet style.
You’re first place in my heart. And here’s a second-place ribbon from my third grade shuttle run to prove it. I’ve kept it all these years to remind myself that I’m a winner.
If counting is thinking, then the longest I’ve ever thought about any one subject continuously for is 127, 983 seconds. I might have also been in love, though I was too distracted to notice.
The first door in the hall leads to youth, the second door leads to middle age, and the third door leads to the bathroom. But knock first, because I think grandpa’s in there.
But the second she opened her eyes and looked at me, I knew. She was either going to be the death of me . . . or she was going to be the one who finally brought me back to life.
Pure and soft, the melody is entrancing. Haunting. I’m glued to my seat, waiting, hoping for the next enthralling sound. I’d close my eyes if I weren’t afraid I’d miss a second of his performance.
The kiss wove between gentle and frenzied, liquid and greedy, silken and primal, and he sucked every second of bliss he could from the forbidden pleasure.
