He followed her into the bathroom and sat on the shut toilet seat while she washed her back with a brush. "I forgot to tell you," he said. "Liza sent us a wheel of Brie." "That's nice," she said, "but you know what? Brie gives me terribly loose bowel...
Anne has small superstitions which she uses to dispel anxieties. For instance, if she can make it to the fourth stain on the carpet by the time the elevator door closes, that means Nate has thought positively about her today, and there is a future wh...
When the boy was with his father in the house outside of the city, he was drilled about visitors to the apartment. His father took careful notes. Were there men? he said. And all the boy could think of were the men who brought their dinners, who fixe...
Donkey: You're so wrapped up in layers onion boy, you're afraid of your own feelings! Shrek: [hiding in the toilet] Go away! Donkey: See? There you are, doing it again! Just like you did to Fiona! All she ever did was like you maybe, even love you! S...
Uncle Monty: I had to come. I tried not to. Oh, how I tried not to. Marwood: Listen Monty, there's something I have to explain to you. Uncle Monty: You needn't explain, he's told me everything. He told me that first day you came to Chelsea. Marwood: ...
Dean Vernon Wormer: Greg, what is the worst fraternity on this campus? Greg Marmalard: Well that would be hard to say, sir. They're each outstanding in their own way. Dean Vernon Wormer: Cut the horseshit, son. I've got their disciplinary files right...
PAPER TOWERS The library was on the second floor of the House, not far from my room. It had two floors—the first held the majority of the books and a balcony wrapped in a wrought-iron railing held another set. It was a cavalcade of tomes, all in im...
The "old school" of wastewater treatment, still embraced by most government regulators and many academics, considers water to be a vehicle for the routine transfer of waste from on place to another. It also considers the accompanying organic material...
Then you get the wrong answer and you can't go to the Moon that way! Nature isn't a person, you can't trick them into believing something else, if you try to tell the Moon it's made of cheese you can argue for days and it won't change the Moon! What ...
Marty McFly: [Doc has just been shot. Marty runs over to him] Doc! Doc! Marty McFly: [Marty turns Doc's body over to reveal it is apparently bullet-ridden and lifeless. Marty begins to cry] No! No! Marty McFly: [Doc suddenly blinks and sits up] You'r...
It's a very excruciating life facing that blank piece of paper every day and having to reach up somewhere into the clouds and bring something down out of them.
she drew me. But not who I see in the mirror. Nia saw the Oscar i keep hidden. And she put him on paper. Nobody sees the real me.
A tear cringed off his cheek and stained her writing on the paper. He didn’t wipe it, men must be honest and transparent, they should never wipe their tears.
What's the Future? It's a blank sheet of paper, and we draw lines on it, but sometimes our hand is held, and the lines we draw aren't the lines we wanted.
The brown paper bag is the only thing civilized man has produced that does not seem out of place in nature.
Two babies in little more than a year and a half. Knockout Jimmy was forced to give up boxing and take a job in the paper mill. It broke him, and in turn, he broke us all.
It is too true, however disgraceful it may be to human nature, that nations in general will make war whenever they have a prospect of getting anything by it.
That paper-- it sits there, open at the employment section. It sits there like a war, and each small advertisement is another trench for a person to dive into. To hope and fight in.
All friends have secrets. We're like three-dimensional shapes on paper; we all have hidden sides. And there's some secrets we don't even reveal to ourselves.
Alice: "I'll play you for it. Rock, paper, scissors." Edward: "Why don't you just tell me who wins?" Alice: "I do. Excellent.
Stories are life," protested Pico. "Without them, books would be only paper and ink, with them they breathe, the reader is drawn in, the stories become him.
