Growing up, others girls wanted to dance and help their mums with the cooking. I liked to play soccer with the boys. Or I'd be off on my own, tilting mirrors towards the sun in order to burn armies of ants. That was my idea of fun.
One discovers that destiny can be diverted, that one does not have to remain in bondage to the first wax imprint made on childhood sensibilities. Once the deforming mirror has been smashed, there is a possibility of wholeness. There is a possibility ...
When I was little, I got to pick my hair ribbon from my mother's collection that hung over her dressing-table mirror. I have an entire room of ribbons in my New York apartment.
I don't know whether these people are going to find themselves, but as they live their lives they have no choice but to face up to the image others have of them. They're forced to look at themselves in a mirror, and they often manage to glimpse somet...
Then I looked at myself in the mirror. I was proud of myself, of my entire life, of everything I have done. It was the BEST feeling... I didn't want to leave that place. I wish I never woke up.
I used to draw stickmen with star glasses when I was at school. I didn't realise that would end up being me! The whole idea was that the glasses had mirrors, and if a youngster looked at me, they'd see themselves. Everybody is a star.
Fear of living on Natives getting restless now Mutiny in the air Got some death to do Mirror stares back hard Kill, it's such a friendly word Seems the only way For reaching out again.
The war was about vanity, he said. It was about old men who couldn't look in the mirror anymore and so they sent the young out to die. Was was a get-together of the vain. They wanted it simple--hate your enemy, know nothing of him.
I had to go to a mirror and look at it. I couldn't picture myself in my own head. I had no image beyond a stick figure. I wasn't a mean person as a kid, or dumb, and something has to be said to justify excluding you.
For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist.
Nick the Greek: Dunno Tom. Seems expensive. Tom: Seems? Well, this seems to be a waste of my time. That is 900 nicker in any shop you're lucky enough to find one in. And you're complaining about 200? What school of finance did you study? "It's a deal...
Eddie: The Traffic Warden identified the neighbours' bodies. Which sort of puts us in the clear. The only thing connecting us with the case is those shotguns. Bacon: And Tom took care of them. Soap: You did take care of the shotguns? Tom: I wanted to...
Pippin: I feel like I'm back at the Green Dragon. Merry: [through a mouthful of food] Mm. Green Dragon. Pippin: A mug of ale in my hand, putting my feet up on a settle after a hard day's work. Merry: Only, you've never done a hard day's work. [They l...
And, sure, fine, I do check my phone about every two minutes, but so do a lot of people, and it's better than smoking, that's what I say. It's the new, lung-safe cigarette.
Thinking about lunch. Smoked salmon with pedigreed lettuce and razor-sharp slices of onion that have been soaked in ice water, brushed with horseradish and mustard, served on French butter rolls baked in the hot ovens of Kinokuniya. A sandwich made i...
On a waste place strewn with bricks in the outskirts of a town twilight was falling. A star or two appeared over the smoke, and distant windows lit mysterious lights. The stillness deepened and the loneliness. Then all the outcast things that are sil...
She wore a flowered blue dress of the type whores naturally favored, and that thing was so tight that when she moved, the daisies got all mixed up with the azaleas. She walked like a warm room full of smoke.
No. Before you say it, I’m not going back outside. I’ve gone through nearly half a pack of smokes since I’ve been out there leaving you two to talk. I don’t think you’re very good for my health.” - Evo
Bicycles, bullock carts, and buses that belched thick, black smoke moved in anarchic streams with the auto rickshaws and cars along the streets. Many of the shops—normally selling everything from groceries to stainless steel cookware to shoes—sto...
Interesting" people were her favorite hobby. She collected them: the type who did gay things late at night and smoked cigarettes in mixed company, those would have most scandalized her own mother.
Is Adrian here?” “Who?” “Adrian. Tall. Brown hair. Green eyes.” She frowned. “Do you mean Jet?” “I … I’m not sure. Does he smoke like a chimney?” The girl nodded sagely. “Yup. You must mean Jet.
