I’m so fucking tired of being alone. I was scared that he’d tell me to fucking leave. Because that means going back to a life I can’t see for myself anymore.
Why did you tell her I'm your boyfriend? Why doesn't she know about your real one? - Timmy He's English! And Mom...Mom hates foreigners! - Cat
It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death." "Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you will find in the arena. Say it's a gigantic cake-
She'll kill me if she finds you in here. Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree!" Patch grinned, "I can fly.
There was a naked jock on my bed and a thing with tentacles coming out of my toilet. One of these things did not belong, and if you tell me that it was the naked jock, you shouldn't be reading this story.
Everywhere my sons and I go, we're telling people the good news about Jesus, blowing duck calls, and making people, happy, happy– then down the road we go.
We know now that the soul is the body, and the body the soul. They tell us they are different because they want to persuade us that we can keep our souls if we let them make slaves of our bodies.
If humor and rumor are needed more than faith and truth, then it tells me something about the kind of world we live today.
It's always comforting to tell yourself things are going to be alright, because even if a part of you senses that you're lying, it's comforting to shut it out- shut out reality and pretend- because pretending is nice.
The fact that I am writing to you in English already falsifies what I wanted to tell you. My subject: how to explain to you that I don't belong to English though I belong nowhere else
My definition of an intellectual is someone who can listen to the William Tell Overture without thinking of the Lone Ranger" - Billy Connolly
[S]ometimes people make a mistake for so long that it starts to feel like it's not a mistake at all. And then one day, you tell yourself it's for the best.
A blanket could be used to express my condolences. I’m sorry to have to tell you I’m sorry, but that’s life, you know?
War is nothing more than organized insanity. That's why crazy and unexpected tactics work most of the time. When they don't, we won't live to tell about it.
The combination of ammonia and chloride can be lethal but I've discovered it can work miracles as long as you keep telling yourself, "I want to love, I want to live...
Riley knelt down, clasping the fur at the back of her neck. “You’re fucking bruised all down your back. Why the hell didn’t you tell me it hurt?”
Everyone always wants to know how you can tell when it's true love, and the answer is this: when the pain doesn't fade and the scars don't heal, and it's too damned late.
Noble , tell me, are my high spirits offensive to you or not?" Fyodor Pavlovich suddenly exclaimed, gripping the arms of his chair with both hands and appearing ready to leap out of it, depending on the reply.
I think sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we’re imagining it. Because it is the most painful kind of hope there is.
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should've behaved better.
A blanket could be used like a trumpet could be used as a murder weapon. And if the cops ask you what I was doing on the night of June 6th, tell them I was in the corner, playing the saxophone like it was a piano.
