He is always there, and the reasonable side of me always makes sure to push him down as far as I can. I notice it, but I always make sure to ignore it.
elliptical, adj. The kiss I like the most is one of the slow ones. It’s as much breath as touch, as much no as yes. You lean in from the side, and I have to turn a little to make it happen.
I’m a fake fact factory. The things I make are the things I make up. Also, as a side business, I make love. Actually, I just made that up.
I’ve always felt that love and luck are two sides of the same pair of jeans. Pick a partner that won’t pick your pockets, and you won’t have to be plucky to find pleasure.
I asked you a question. What are you doing here?" Resting his elbows on the side of the tub, he smiled lazily. She hated it when he smiled lazily. "Waiting for the bubbles to evaporate," he said.
The mage pulled my knife out of his side and looked at it. “Nice knife.” The voice was deep but female. I threw my second knife. The blade bit into the mage’s chest. Shit. Missed the neck. “Here, have another one.
Who bit you?" he roared. Alexia tilted her head to one side in amazement. "You did." She was then treated to the spectacle of an Alpha werewolf looking downright hangdog. "I did?" She raised both eyebrows at him. "I did.
She died--this was the way she died; And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.
We don't tell anyone the darker side of things. We've been through all the breakups and addictions and all that. But we have a chemistry that no one else in the world has. So we don't mess with it." - Chris Martin
You talk; I'll sleep. feel free to make up my side of the conversation in case you get bored. I recommend throwing in the occasional 'fuck you' on my behalf, just to keep things true to life.
No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don't.
In those days I learned that nothing is more frightening than a hero who lives to tell his story, to tell what all those who fell at his side will never be able to tell.
Bearing witness from the sides of the room, ten or more lepers shouted at the bizarre scene, “Diable! Diable!” And then chants of some sort, or prayers, followed by more shouts of “Diable!” They were hurling these words at Moreau like stones.
Twelve thousand miles of it, to the other side of the world. And whether they came home again or not, they would belong neither here, nor there, for they would have lived on two continents and sampled two different ways of life.
As far as I can tell, it doesn't make any difference to adults how clever children are. They always stick together. Unless you are sick or dying or mortally wounded, they will always side with the other adult.
I need a friend and you seemed nicest. I think you and I can have more fun than those fake people on the other side.
Such strength behind these eyes, that your soul glows through. Blinding. Captivating. Torturing. You may be as stubborn as a mule on a cliff side but any man would find the true meaning of foolishness to ever forget these facts.
Do you know the Ai'oan word for heart? he asks. I shake my head. "It's py'a." We're so close, his whisper is right in my ear, and his breath warms the side of my neck. "You are my heart, Pia.
You would think as you get older your mind would fill up with what they call the spiritual side of things, but mine just seems to get more and more practical, trying to get something settled.
If you think it is spiritual to burn food in front of starving people in hopes that your gods will bring this back to you in triplicate, you are missing the point and sowing animosity from all sides.
I recognized Meg’s swirly handwriting and crooked my index finger into the side of the envelope to rip it open. There was no letter. Just a picture. A picture of Meg holding a picture of me. The word HOME echoed through my body like a rifle shot.
