A magician who could make the audience’s problems disappear—now that’s someone I’d pay to throw tomatoes at. If I didn’t have any problems, I’d still have a problem, because I’d have nothing to blame my failures on.
When someone says, “One last thing,” it never is. Unless they die right after speaking. Make sure that they do. Check their pulse to be certain.
Working in the hotel business I have learned a lot about people. It’s amazing what you can discover about someone by watching them when they don’t know you are watching, especially if they are asleep.
My clones will look like me, and therefore I’ll treat them like myself—starting with spending all their hard-earned money. You can’t love someone else if you can’t first love yourself.
It is more blessed to give than to receive”, the Bible advocates. When it comes to advice, I humbly submit that it is more blessed to avail yourself of it, utilise it, apply it yourself, before you give it. Put it to use first before suggesting it ...
When someone looks at something they don’t understand and they say, “That could be a good thing, or that could be a bad thing,” they’re just highlighting the fact that they have no clue what they are talking about. Everything in the universe,...
You're absolved," I tell him. He brings his eyes back up to mine. There's no fucking way he knows what that word means. That's a word I dream someone will say to me. So I put it in his language. "You're free.
Kate: “Oh, please, Vincent. We’re in the middle of a major tourist site. Père Lachaise cemetary is practically Disneyland for the Dead. It’s not some Buffy soundstage with vampires rising out of the ground every time someone turns around.
Circumstances cannot change how you feel. When you truly love someone – on a level that goes deeper than your mind, deeper than your memories, all the way to the very thing that makes you human – you do whatever it takes. You save him.
When I was a boy, I passed a homeless man, drunk and begging on a street corner. My father, sensing my disgust, said something I never forgot, that I think of every time I see your face on the news or in the paper- "That man was once someone's little...
How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into.
Of course there’s a risk that that could happen, but what is the alternative? To never allow myself to get close to anyone ever again? Never know the joy of loving someone for fear that it could end up in tears? My heart might stay safe, but it wou...
Wouldn’t you like to believe you’re the center of someone’s universe? To feel so special that the rest of the world didn’t matter and it could all wait? What would you be willing to pay for that - any time you needed to feel that way?
Then, in a whisper, Sam said, “I met someone else.” Just like that, Darcy's world melted and distorted into something she no longer recognized. His words hung like poison in the air, and she held her breath, afraid to breathe it in.
No one is waiting for me. In this story, I’m the girl no one is waiting for. Usually the girl is fat, but my problem is more rare, which is freckles: I look like someone threw handfuls of mud at my face.
I must do whatever I can to find the best partners possible." "Did you kick their butts?" He frowned. "The buttocks are among the least sensitive places to hit someone." I laughed. "It's a figure of speech." "To kick butts. Interesting.
He slammed the door shut in Ian's face, the lock clicking into place. Ian hit it again with his fist before roaring, “If I were a pervert, I'd be looking for something a damn bit more attractive than you, jackass. And definitely someone that smelle...
I can be a stupid girl inside of a crazy woman at times over you. If I weren’t, you should be worried! We all do stupid shit. I might as well be a fool for someone worth it.
The little boy nodded at the peony and the peony seemed to nod back. The little boy was neat, clean and pretty. The peony was unchaste, dishevelled as peonies must be, and at the height of its beauty.(...) Every hour is filled with such moments, big ...
Other than along certain emotional tangents there was little in the book that felt as if it had actually been lived. It was a fiction produced by someone who knew only fictions, The Tempest as written by isolate Miranda, raised on the romances in her...
A singer who refused to sing, a friend who wasn't her friend, someone who was hers and yet would never be hers. Kestrel looked away from Arin. She swore to herself that she would never look back
