Ripe for romance? Is that not only the self-conscious and sensitive young man's way of saying he was heavy with passion? Is not, perhaps, romance only the fiction by means of which the tender-minded negotiate their lust?
Those bitter sorrows of childhood!-- when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless.
Tunney has all the makings of a hero – he was clean living, intelligent, polite, reasonably good-looking – but, like Lou Gehrig, he lacked the chemistry that stirred affection.
Not telling is just as interesting as telling I have found. Why speech, that short verbal journey from inside to outside can be excrutiating under certain circumstances is fascinating.
I'm scared of the geese. When I was five, my mom took me down there to feed those horrible beasts and one of them nearly took my hand off.
Where are we going?” Annabelle asked, resisting his hold on her wrist. “To the house. If they’re not willing to be witnesses, then it seems I’ll have to debauch you in front of someone else.
The truth is, you can never really know a man until you've loaned him money. And you can never know a woman until you've slept in her bed.
I wished I could stay forever, in this moment. Like in one of those plastic snowballs, one little moment frozen in time.
Would you rather live one perfect day over and over or live your life with no perfect days but just decent ones?
She'd known me my whole life. It's hard to throw away history. It was like you were throwing a part of yourself.
So I take my lover, my king, and I put him in a pedestal and I cut him down. A man, like the ones who ruined the world.
He's the boy who smokes Marlboro cigarettes and I'm the girl who makes theater puppets. Dreams and ashes—two things in the universe that should never meet because they are opposites, right?
Don't live in a world of 'I never should have'. Regret is a terrible burden to carry through life. It stoops your shoulders and keeps you looking down at the ground rather than up at the stars.
Her attachment to language was earthy, physical, and immediate. Pretty words you could eat.
Whatever is destroyed, the act of destruction does not vary much. Beauty if vapour from the pit of death.
What could Maria call the time that opened ahead of her? The certainty of her hope? This rejuvenated air she was breathing? This incandescence, this bursting of a love at last without object?
It started to rain. Fat, heavy drops of summer rain - the kind that always struck her as vaguely lewd and debauched. Little potbellied drunkards, those summer raindrops, chortling on their way to earth and crashing open with glee.
I worked at this bike shop called Rockville BMX, and I started going on this summer tour with this one company. One summer, we ended up in California, and I got to hang out with the guys who made 'Freestylin' - Andy Jenkins and Mark Lewman.
During the summer of 2009, conservative activists turned up the heat on Democratic politicians to protest the innovation-destroying, liberty-usurping Obamacare mandate. In the summer of 2012, it's squishy Republican politicians who deserve the grassr...
I never understood the concept of a fluffy summer read. For me, summer reading means beaches, long train rides and layovers in foreign airports. All of which call for escaping into really long books.
I started working out with my father the summer I was 13, which was incredible for our relationship. Those were my summers: working out with my dad, hanging out with my brothers, riding my bike. Pretty simple.