The angel descended when you were least expecting it. Tracy felt something quietly go click in his despairing heart.
What a tricky and uncomfortable thing is conscience, that nearly always begins to trouble us at the moment of, or after, the event, not before, when it might be of some use.
He wanted to toast mad idealism, forbidden desires, the dreams that drove one to criminal acts. He wanted, quite starkly, oblivion.
Despite his care, Reid was still playing with fire, the kind that could without warning sheathe one’s whole life in irreversible conflagration.
Do you even know what gay stands for? Well, let me tell you. G-A-Y. Got Aids yet?
Her heart, she had discovered in the last half year, was of durable stuff. You could test its mettle with a hammer.
Just because you pretend the universe doesn't have teeth doesn't mean you won't get eaten in the end.
People always knew more than you gave them credit for. Perhaps, in the end, no one had any secrets at all.
A long-simmering resentment against the world can burn off more calories than you might imagine.
When he got a story urge, there was nothing to do but grab a pen and write. Otherwise it was too much like getting a hard-on and not jerking off.
She gave herself up to the waves of the storm. If they drowned, it would be together, a shattered vessel on the sea, a collision of longing and desire.
I have ridden out all the storms,” said Shakespeare, “even the ones I wrote myself. Here, look, it begins…
You like playing with fire?” “Yes. It is my favorite element.” She extracted her arm from his grip and stepped inside the elevator
They took form in a bedroom, Khloe realized with a scowl. He noticed and gave her a sideways grin. Arrogant ass. Laugh it up, demon.
If a boat is shattered by a storm, the desperate passengers cling to the floating pieces of the hull. In that moment, it's not a broken boat. To a drowning man, it's a floating miracle.
He’s but a windlet that blows the dust about my ankles. There is another that I flee, and he is a storm that sweeps the worlds aside and throws them plunging at each other.
Strange and harrowing must be his story; frightful the storm which embraced the gallant vessel on its course, and wrecked it--thus!
Such polite manners for an armed man who was kidnapping me. Danilo could take a few lessons from him.
You can’t believe how bleeding scary the sea is! There’s, like, whales and storms and shit! They don’t bloody tell you that!
I believe one would write better if the climate were bad. If there were a lot of wind and storms for example...
Radio is aimed at the 30-year-old market, so you have to have great music and appeal to get that age group. And you need a record company to believe in you. It's like a bit of the perfect storm.
