But before she tells you anything." I glared at him suspiciously. "your seed..."Tsaeb winced. "What the hell are you talking about?" "your...well, your seed. You know, you have to knock her up.
What’s the best part of being in Hermes cabin? Connor: You are never lonely. I mean seriously, new kids are always coming in. So you always have someone to talk to. Travis: Or prank. Connor: Or pickpocket. One big happy family.
While the other women turned back to their talk of Saint-Germain, she took the opportunity to curl into her chair again and read, and so remove herself from all her greater cares and all the people causing them.
You think if you don’t talk about it, you can just pretend everything is all right? Everything is not all right. Not with us, not with your parents, not with anything today. And if you let yourself go anywhere real with it, you have to acknowledge ...
Just then Jagger walks in, his hair all ruffled and his body hard and firm. We all stop talking and stare as he runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to straighten it up. “Take a picture ladies, it lasts longer.” he mutters
If life was a dream, then dying must be the moment when you woke up. It was so simple it must be true. You died, the dream was over, you woke up. That's what people meant when they talked about going to heaven. It was like waking up.
...my soul always reverts to the Old Testament and to Shakespeare. There at least one feels that it's human beings talking. There people hate, people love, people murder their enemy and curse his descendants through all generations, there people sin.
To feel physically comfortable with someone else's body is not a decision you make. It has very little thing to do with how two people think or act or talk or even look. The mysterious magnet is either there, buried somewhere deep behind the sternum,...
I listened as she talked, thinking that the worse the tragedy, the more people wanted to forget it--and the harder that became. Maybe that's what made it tragic; not losing the person, but losing your peace of mind. The living suffer more than the de...
I do know you're nothing like him. But you're still....still a lot. A lot to handle. I don't mean your junk, obviously, as we've not gotten to the fondling-bits stage yet. And I can't believe I just talked about your junk.
In that moment I’m able to accept the inevitability of how I feel, though not with joy. I need to talk to someone. I need to trust someone. And for whatever reason, I know, I know it’s her.
I was begging you not to get married and if you do manage to talk some poor woman into marrying you, please pull out,” Paul said in a slow, condescending manner, raising his eyebrows in hopes of clarifying. “Sterilization should be a legal requir...
I glance down his body. He's still wearing his shorts and his shirt, and I still have my T-shirt on. Jeez-- talk about wham, bam, thank you ma'am.
(Witness also that when we talk about literature, we do so in the present tense. When we speak of the dead, we are not so kind.) You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.
It's a harmless breakfast." "Nothing harmless about what he whips up. His parents are chefs, so he's picked up a few tips and anything he makes is beyond yummy." "Uhm, you're not doing a good job talking me out of it,
The next morning I had Twentieth-Century American Poetry at MCC. This old woman gave a lecture wherein she managed to talk for ninety minutes about Sylvia Plath without ever once quoting a single word of Sylvia Plath.
So, now I've been to see a drug counselor who told me I need to lay off the drugs and talk about my feelings, and a shrink who heard what I had to say and immediately put me on drugs.
...I overheard Dorothy talking to Mr Montrose and she was telling Mr Montrose that she thought that I would be great in the movies if he would write me a part that only had three expressions, Joy, Sorrow, and Indigestion.
May I suggest that you all read? And often. Believe me, it's nice to have something to talk about other than the weather and the Queen's health. Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
There is an irony in how Christians talk about and understand sexuality. Christians often lament the world's reductionism of sex to genital interaction and raw physical pleasures, but then they typically reduce a gay person's sexuality to just that.
Their talk was endless, compulsive, and indulgent, sometimes sounding like the remains of the English language after having been hashed over by nuclear war survivors for a few hundred years.
