I am the woman at the water’s edge, offering you oranges for the peeling, knife glistening in the sun. This is the scent and taste of my skin: citon and sweet. Touch me and your life will unfold before you, easily as this skirt billows then sinks, ...
This philistinism of interpretation is more rife in literature than in any other art. For decades now, literary critics have understood it to be their task to translate the elements of the poem or play or novel or story into something else. Sometimes...
...Tea. There is nothing saner than tea, he thought. ... Tea was the great leveler. It brought calm, quiet, contentment, warmth. And it was something to do. .....Tea-- so normal, so mundane, so hot... ...The heat and scent of it permeated his head an...
There are some parts of the world that, once visited, get into your heart and won't go. For me, India is such a place. When I first visited, I was stunned by the richness of the land, by its lush beauty and exotic architecture, by its ability to over...
I also know that not everyone will like what I do, and that there are many people who do love my work, and so I write for them, and for my own pleasure, and try not to brood too much over those who have different tastes. And I have written enough boo...
I have indeed lived and worked to my taste either in art or science. What more could a man desire? Knowledge has always been my goal. There is much that I shall leave behind undone…but something at least I was privileged to leave for the world to u...
Toxic people systematically destroy others because if they can not bask in the light then no one else deserves to. Lost people suffer in their darkness, happily dragging your light down into their personal hell so you can listen to all their woes. So...
Now I think ultimately our hope is certainly that people can feel and taste the goodness of God and to find the salvation in Jesus's love and sacrifice. Sometimes the biggest barrier to that has been Christians and has been a Church that is numb t...
Inside that tiny seed, lives the roots, branches, bark, trunk, leaves, twigs and apple fruit of that apple tree. You can’t see, feel, hear, taste or smell any of that yet; nevertheless, it is all inside that seed. The moment the seed is in your han...
Cover your glass in France or Germany --even worse, in England - and in the voice of someone who has personally affronted, your host will ask why you're not drinking. 'Oh, I just don't feel like it this morning.' 'Why not?' 'I guess I'm not in the mo...
Give me love like her 'Cause lately I've been waking up alone Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt Told you I'd let you go And that I'll fight my corner Maybe tonight I'll call you After my blood turns into alcohol No I just wanna hold you Give a l...
We shoot our heroes and enjoy peripeteia as a spectacle akin to sport and perhaps harshly disavowing the past protects us from the disappointment of our outsized hopes--who knows, really, but shifts in taste don't fully account for the phenomenon. At...
Something went klunk. Like a nickel dropping in a soda machine. One of those small insights that explains everything. This was puberty for these boys. Adolescence. The first date, the first kiss, the first chance to hold hands with someone special. D...
I want to be intoxicated by the darkened ether of midnight, running through my fingers as sparkling stardust. I crave the taste of the ocean's salty tears, as her temperamental tides crash and break against the rocks. I yearn for the sweet scent of s...
Smaug: And what about your little dwarf friends? Where are they hiding? Bilbo Baggins: Dwarves... No. No dwarves here. You've got that all wrong. Smaug: Oh, I don't think so, Barrel-Rider! They sent you in here to do their dirty work, while they skul...
[first lines] [English subtitles] Benjamín Esposito: [voiceover] On June 21st, 1974, Ricardo Morales had breakfast with Liliana Coloto for the last time. For the rest of his life he'd remember every single detail of that morning. Planning their firs...
[scoffs as Rose's paintings are being unpacked] Cal Hockley: God, not those finger paintings again. They certainly were a waste of money. Rose: The difference between Cal's taste in art and mine is that I have some. They're fascinating. It's like bei...
Summer: [Tom is listening to headphones in an elevator with Summer. She notices the music] I love the Smiths. Tom: Sorry? Summer: I said I love the Smiths. Summer: [they stare at each other for a moment] You... You have good taste in music. Tom: [rep...
Thomas Leroy: [yelling to Nina over rehearsal music] The final act. Your final dance! You've tasted your dream. Touched it! Only to have it crushed. Your heart is broken. Wounded! Your life force fading. The blood drips. The black swan stole your lov...
Sean Tuohy: You really expect Michael to lay down on a couch and talk about his childhood like he's Woody Allen or something? I mean, Michael's gift is his ability to forget. He's mad at no one and he really doesn't care happened in the past. Leigh A...
Even after six years, he was still turned on by the bastard, still desperate to kiss his lips and see how it felt to kiss him into submission, until he saw him as more than a loser geek. He wanted to taste his tongue, to touch his abs and stroke his ...
