People say I can handle pressure, but there is one sporting competition where if I were in the finals, I’d surely choke, and that’s the hotdog eating competition.
Sure, I’d fake my own death. But only if I had the following items: duct tape, seven slinkies, a parachute, and a mannequin that looked like me.
I’m sure you could win with a design that I’d cast off as trash. Such is the curious case of the annual Garbage Festival. Plus, I’m just that good. Or am I that bad?
To be sure, the Road of Excess leads to the Palace of Wisdom, even when it takes you through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders. Just watch out for parasites.
I’m not a firefighter—I’m a firefly fighter. My bravery may come in small flashes, but I am sure it doesn’t go unnoticed by lustful women and campers everywhere.
There’s bacon in my bed. Extra crispy, like the fresh dollar bills stuffed in the mattress. I make love like I make sure I’m prepared for the next financial crisis.
She asked for all my love, and I said, “Sure, let me just go to the nearest ATM.” I wonder if she knows it’s all fake and inflated.
There's a sin, a fearful sin, resting on this nation, that will not go unpunished forever. There will be reckoning yet ... it may be sooner or it may be later, but it's a coming as sure as the Lord is just
...when it comes time for punishment for our sins, surely it's only the person who's done wrong who's expected to pay?" Sister Agnes smiled, "Not even them, if they've accepted the Savior.
People say, 'Time heals all wounds.' That may be true, but relocating to an alternate reality can sure help too." -Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1941
I'm no longer quite sure what the question is, but I do know that the answer is Yes.
The world yearns. This is its sure gravity: the attraction of bodies. Earth for molten star. Moon for earth. A hand for the orb of a breast. This is its movement too: the motion of desire, of a longing toward.
Wish and learn to smooth away the surly wrinkles, to raise your lids frankly, and change the fiends to confident, innocent angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and always seeing friends where they are not sure of foes.
Be sure that you give the poor the aid they most need, though it be your example which leaves them far behind. If you give money, spend yourself with it, and do not merely abandon it to them.
He pulled out a dagger from ... she wasn't sure where. Did he have that in his loin cloth? What else does he have in there? (Amy's thoughts, The Witching Pen)
I don’t suppose you’d want to go destroy some evil, would you? the voice said. I’m not really sure what that means, to be honest. I’ll just trust you to decide.
Robert, what are you doing? I'm cooking.’ ‘I like to thank the chef for the excellent food.’ ‘But surely that is done at the end of the meal.’ ‘What a good idea, I'll thank you later … as it should be done.
During my completely soul-shredding midlife crisis at the age of twenty-eight, I felt sure I had peaked too soon.
Then the bow orchestra began to play an apocalyptically beautiful canon, one of those pieces in which, surely, the composer simply transcribed what was given, and trembled in awe of the hand that was guiding him.
Surely this marked a new level of achievement in his amatory career. Never before had he charmed the frock off a woman with talk of mathematics. Never before would he have thought to try.
Strive and thrive on high fives. Oh sure, I’d rather eat a round of applause, but when you’re starving you’ll eat anything. Even still, I’d rather eat a bucket of boos than anything from McDonald’s.
