Gina always believed there was magic in the world. "But it doesn't work in the way it does in fairy tales," she told me. "It doesn't save us. We have to save ourselves.
The woman was Diana Vreeland, the high priestess of fashion and legendary fashion editor of Harper’s Bazaar and editor-in-chief of Vogue. Dana paused, eyes wide. Well, perhaps she was a bit star-struck after all.
I never loved anyone else and never desired to. She was my companion, my lover, and my teacher.
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.
She thought he might have said her name, but it was background radiation accompanying the hum in her ears and the symphony in her head— —a song of quantum mechanics and trajectory calculations and astroscience physics and where to go, where to go...
Deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew they were probably watching. They watched everything, after all. Let them watch. Let them see what it meant to be human. To live. Let them see what it meant to love, and be loved in return.
At that moment Mr. Lisbon had the feeling that he didn't know who she was, that children were only strangers you agreed to live with, and he reached out in order to meet her for the first time.
Can you…make it different this time?” “Different, how?” “Different position, different…something. I want to learn it all.” Whoa, pressure. When Maira’s genius brain wanted to learn something, she really applied herself.
We knew that Cecilia had killed herself because she was a misfit, because the beyond called to her, and we knew that her sisters, once abandoned, felt her calling from that place, too.
After all, hadn't she been the one to pursue him? And Madame Dupuy had done it with a vigor that most women would have been too ashamed to display.
Maya wrapped one leg around him, writhing against him as she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him to her, urging him on. "Never stop touching me that way," Maya rasped.
They walked on rather aimlessly. He hoped she wouldn't notice he was touched, because he wouldn't have known how to explain why. Here lay the great discrepancy between aesthetic truth and sleazy reality.
If it winds up earlier, you should have a movie picked out. This is assuming she isn’t sending you the ‘let’s go back to my place’ signals. In that case—” “Don’t go there, Bob. Let’s just not go there.
Good men don't become legends," he said quietly. "Good men don't need to become legends." She opened her eyes, looking up at him. "They just do what's right anyway.
I can't believe you didn't say you were Simon Lewis," she said. "I thought you were just a mundane." Simon leaned slightly away. "I am just a mundane.
Did you miss me?’ “A little bit,” she said with a shrug. “You have tears running down your cheeks,” he said with a grin. “I think you missed me more than a little.
You think her innocent/ Your little lost girl/ Caped in Inquisition red/ Yet when she leads you hunting Hyde/ Mind don't slay Jekyll in his stead
Torture?” she asked with a laugh. “My first piece of information I’ll divulge to you? I wouldn’t recommend trying to torture me. I dislike it and grow sulky under pincers. It’s a fault.
What have you done to your hair?” Mom’s broken voice said, pinning me back to this tiny hospital room. “Holy shit!” Icka patted her head as if searching. “You think the nurse stole it? She looked shady.
We'd been assured it wouldn't be painful, though she might experience 'discomfort,' a term beloved of the medical profession that seems to be a synonym for agony that isn't yours.
You can call it innocence, or you can call it gullibility, but Celia made the most common mistake of the good-hearted: she assumed that everyone else was just like her.
