(Da) "Sorry, Son, what was that? I was too busy ignoring you." (Later) "Sorry, Son, I missed that," Ma said. "Ignoring you can be a full-time job.
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.
Most witches don’t believe in gods. They know that the gods exist, of course. They even deal with them occasionally. But they don’t believe in them. They know them too well. It would be like believing in the postman.
Durbin's sunglasses were gone, and his gray eyes sparkled up at her. He winked. "Take care of yourself, Dr. Venkman." Lena bit back a grin. "You too, Dana Barrett.
…Not that it was unjust; not that the scales were forced out of balance. Where there had been good, it showed as clearly. Kindnesses, accomplishments, all those were present, too.
Anyone can love a thing . That's as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something . To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.
Forgive me that I felt forsaken, That grief and angst was all I knew. Forgive me that I kept mistaking Too many other men for you.
...tell them that we have some good in us, too. And the only thing worth living for is the good. That’s why we’ve got to make sure we pass it on.
It didn’t take much to turn a man solitary-being the new guy too often, being controversial now and then, a couple of unsuccessful attempts at a lasting relationship with a woman…
Romantic haste in drama brings tears and sighs when the hero dies but the curtain fall is final when in life we take the tragic way The sunset too is a glorious thing but with it ends the day.
Women need to assert their rights in the bedroom too - many women have done so in the workplace; many women have done so in house chores and parenting, but women's rights are sorely lacking in the bedroom.
I suppose it's too bad people can't be a little more consistent. But if they were, maybe they would stop being people.
During my completely soul-shredding midlife crisis at the age of twenty-eight, I felt sure I had peaked too soon.
The stars, he said, were actually souls, all the souls that were too restless to be locked up in heaven. They were so restless that God let them stay outside at night to play.
Holly girl, you are all too human, I can assure you. Prickly and awkward and human, because that's what witches are - human, that is, not necessarily the prickly and annoying bit. That's just you.
Too bad the buttons on my shirt don’t operate the elevator at work. If they did, maybe I wouldn’t have taken off my pants and taken the stairs.
They should make cell phones that are dishwasher safe. My cup runneth over—especially since both our drinks are in one glass because I’m too lazy to load the shotgun.
You can never be too early to stand around and wait. You can have a seat in this chair, after I cinch the noose around my neck and you kick it out from under my legs.
If one can, anyone can. If two can, you can, too!
As the blinding lights of heaven in a slow march approach, to caress the earth to wake her up, I too would like to be a part of the legacy by wishing you, “Happy Good Morning”.
That's the problem with this never-ending centipede of lemmings, Beck. You know they're all pussies, each and every one of 'em. They buy these books to get scared because their lives are too easy. How pathetic is that?
