Hatori: "SHIGURE... I WILL TELL EVERYONE IN THE PUBLISHING INDUSTRY EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT YOU, STARTING FROM WHEN YOU WERE FOUR YEARS OLD..." Shigure: "Sorry, Tohru-kun. My lips are sealed!
The Irish way of telling a story is a complex and elaborate one, complete with wild exaggerations, a certain delight in improbable fantasy, and a heightened sense of drama.
It was the kind of building that remembered things, deep-down things, things that rode tears into the world, telling them back to anyone old enough or wise enough to know how to listen with their eyes.
We are all human, and our senses are quicker to prompt us than our reason. Every man gives off a scent, and that scent tells you how to act before your head does.
Let's see," mused the dragon, "that doesn't tell us much, does it? What sort of a word is this? Is it an epithet, do you think?" Gawaine could do no more than nod. "Why, of course," exclaimed the dragon, "reactionary Republican.
I'll tell you the only real truth. Cunt is where it all begins and where it all ends. Cunt is the only thing worth living for. Everything else is a fake, a fraud and just shit.
It hurts to remember you. But it scares me to try and forget. I remember you telling me that my love for you shouldn't hurt, that it should be something wonderful. And it is. It is the most wonderful thing I've ever had.
You know, it's hard work to write a book. I can't tell you how many times I really get going on an idea, then my quill breaks. Or I spill ink all over my writing tunic.
He looked up at her and smiled crookedly, holding out a few sheets of paper. "Will you read this? i think maybe it sucks. or maybe it's awesome. it's probably awesome. Tell me it's awesome,okay? Unless it sucks.
He was trying to talk to Cath about buffalo. As far as she could tell, Levi had a whole class that was just about buffalo. He seemed like he'd major in buffalo if that were an option. Maybe it was an option….
People grieve in different ways, some silently, some in anger, some in spite. Rarely does grief bring out the best in people, despite what local historians like to tell you.
He has a name." "Oh yeah. Skulduggery isn’t it?" Fletcher responded. "That’s an unusual one. Tell me were you born a skeleton or were your folks just disturbingly hopeful?
...when we say we're looking for a spiritual adviser, we're really looking for someone to tell us what to do with our bodies. Decisions of the flesh. We forget to learn from pleasure as well as pain.
I know the difference between right and wrong. Right is when I do everything he tells me to. Wrong is when I question why. But every now and then a simple slap across the side of the head is a good way to remind me." - excerpt from: freefalling
Tell me what I can do to help you feel better." Well...I always like when you kiss me... "Do you?" You're good at it. "Well, that's lucky. Because I'll always be kissing you.
It takes me a while to figure things out, doesn't it?" Edilio grinned. "Do me a favor. When you find Astrid, repeat that to her, word for word, the part about how it takes you a while. Then remember her exact reaction and tell me.
Don't stay away from me anymore." I stop myself, just barely, from telling him I won't. I can't promise that. Can't lie. He opens his eyes. Stares starkly, bleakly. "I you.
In the war room, love? What if someone comes in?” I stood and removed his shirt. “Then they’ll have a good story to tell.” “Good?” He adopted the pretense of being offended. “Prove me wrong.
Recounting the strange is like telling one's dreams: one can communicate the events of a dream, but not the emotional content, the way that a dream can colour one's entire day.
GrayG: I feel like I can tell you anything. IvyMac: You can. That's what friends do. GrayG: I've never been friends with a girl before. IvyMac: I'm honored to be your first.
But we were dragons. We were supposed to be cruel, cunning, heartless and terrible. But this much I can tell you, we never burned and tortured and ripped one another apart and called it morality.
