It's like you have a plan and someone comes along and makes you want to change it all, but you still like your first plan, no matter how fantastic the second one makes you feel.
Some women are meant to change the world, while others are meant to hold it together. And then there are those of us who simply don't want to be in it, because we know no matter how much we struggle, we can't comfortably fit.
...but since He gave it them for their benefit and the greatest conveniences of life they were capable to draw form it, it cannot be supposed He meant it should always remain common and uncultivated. He gave it to the use of the industrious and ratio...
... even though it was beautiful and comfortable, and even though it was the world, it was also a little bit boring. No, wait. Maybe boring isn’t the right word. What’s the word I’m wanting here? Lonely. That’s it. It was a little bit lonely.
Amie blinked through the haze of her thoughts and the constant drum of the rains. A golden light swung back and forth in the distance like a pendulum and every second drew closer. Finally, Amie could tell it wasn’t a faerie light but a lantern, car...
Dear Hope, I NEVER thought Id see the day when two of your daily e-mails sandwiched a message from none other than PAUL PARLIPIANO. My crush to end all crushes! Gay man of my dreams! OOOH!
The drug I take is called schizophrenia, among other labels, which I desperately want to put away. I want to put the drug of schizophrenia down, and I want to put down the stigma surrounding its label.
What would be the best therapy? Punching the evil sod in the knob! [...] It doesn't undo it though. You'd feel good for a second and then there's just emptiness. It's like bingeing. After the chocolate there's the wrappers.
I suspect that for a good deal of the time you live in a sort of glass case, not knowing real enthusiasm or genuine emotion; or feeling them perhaps at second hand, feeling them sometimes because you think you ought to, not because you really do.
It was one of those idiotic things that could've been resolved in a split second. Tara had no right to touch Raphael, and once she did he had every right to punch her. She should've left it at that, and now she was dead because she didn't.
I do not understand how you know you only have one life if you have never died, because if you have never died, then you cannot possibly know if you would go on living a second life, or go on living no more lives.
I’m not totally mad at you. I’m just sad. You’re all locked up in that little world of yours, and when I try knocking on the door, you just sort of look up for a second and go right back inside.
Don't wear anything under this. I want to be on that stage, looking down at you, and knowing that you're bare underneath. Knowing that I could walk up behind you if I wanted and within just a matter of seconds, be lodged deep inside you.
True love would look a second time. True love would not be thwarted. True love would not accept no for an answer. He would search the world and certainly look again and again in every cottage until he finds you.
True love would look a second time. True love would not be thwarted. True love would not accept no for an answer. He would search the world and certainly look again and again in every cottage in Euphrasia until he finds you.
For a moment, or a second, the pinched expressions of the cynical, world-weary, throat-cutting, miserable bastards we've all had to become disappears, when we're confronted with something as simple as a plate of food.
I’ve been to a horse farm, a magical place where jockeys grow on trees. That’s where we made love for the first time like it was the second time.
Live your life in the NOW. Right NOW, THIS minute, THIS second.
It's simple: Women who pick at their food hate sex. Women who suck the meat off of lobster claws, order (and finish) dessert- these are the women who are going to rip your clothes off and come back for seconds.
Evan stopped completely. He was staring at her with those intense eyes. Staring right into her. Just like he had in those couple of moments when she had thought for a split second, that he wanted to kiss her.
Its a bit mad. Too bad, I mean, that getting to know each just for a fleeting second Must be replaced by unperfect knowledge of the featureless whole Like some pocket history of the world, so general As to constitute a sob or wail
