A con artist, a total imposter, had played on my desires for the Cinderella dream and won a Monopoly trip to jail. I had hoped for uprightness, integrity, and potentially a relationship. Longing overshadowed the voice of conscience.
Ruin still used Reen’s voice—it was familiar, something that had always seemed a part of her. Discovering that it belonged to that …it was like finding out that her reflection really belonged to someone else, and that she’d never actually see...
Our failure to hear His voice when we want to is due to the fact that we do not in general want to hear it, that we want it only when we think we need it.
She had all her life long been accustomed to harbor thoughts and emotions which never voiced themselves… They belonged to her her and were her own, and she entertained the conviction that she had a right to them and they they concerned no one but h...
She could hear the voices and laughter coming from the yard, and she thought, really, this was the best part of any wedding, not the ceremony or the cake or the dancing but the downtime when they were all together without the lights shining on them.
I'm not leaving you. We still have a chance." "How?" Kayson's voice echoes his hopelessness. He's already given up. "Hey, as long as we are still breathing, we still have a chance. If you quit, then you're quitting on me too.
She picked up a taco, took a big bite, and moaned as it made its way down to her stomach. "I want to marry this taco." "Lucky taco." Honor stilled. That voice. That one-of-a-kind masculine scent. Bryce stood right behind her.
I sigh. “But if you’d talked to Jules—if she could hear you . . .” My voice trails off. “Then you wouldn’t feel quite so crazy?” Oliver asks gently. “Can’t you believe in me, if I believe in you?
Everything she wanted to tell her, was unable to tell her, because she was afraid of hearing her own voice come out of her heart and be covered with blood, and then she poured all the blood into these syllables, and she offered it to her to drink lik...
What drove me now was a force beyond elementals, beyond time. It was the force of a thousand years of history, the collected voices of generations of ondines, the desires of those who’d lived and died. It was the dreams of my mother, the regrets of...
You'll never forget," Alden said, for the first time the pure evil of his soul showing in his eyes. His voice was bloodcurdingly gentle as he added, "And neither will I. Nothing feels as good as your own flesh and blood.
Something in Naja's voice, in the roughness of his hands, made Arjin wonder if there might be some truth to the tales of Ansari devouring soft, young humans. The hunger and need he felt pouring off the other man frightened Arjin even as it excited hi...
The "feminine" woman is forever static and childlike. She is like the ballerina in an old-fashioned music box, her unchanging features tiny and girlish, her voice tinkly, her body stuck on a pin, rotating in a spiral that will never grow.
All I'd ever done was sing songs that were dead straight and expressed powerful new realities. I had very little in common with and knew even less about a generation that I was supposed to be the voice of.
I originally wanted to embrace the imagery and forthrightness of rap music. There are some interesting, dynamic voices in rap. But I find most of it irresponsible in its overt violence and commercialization of anger. As artists, we believe we can wil...
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
Silence can bring us into alignment with our thoughts and feelings and help us to hear the quiet spiritual voice of our intuition.
Can I have a glass of water?" Her voice was hoarse, probably from screaming. She'd always sounded like that after they'd- He didn't just force the thought aside. He clubbed it unconscious, threw it into a crawl space and walled it up alive.
Hhhmm. A sense of humor.” He cocked his head to the side. “That actually might annoy me.” She frowned, ignoring the teasing sound to that oh-so-low voice and, with heavy sarcasm answered, “Oh, well, that’ll keep me up nights.
And ever, as the story drained The wells of fancy dry, And faintly strove that weary one To put the subject by, "The rest next time--" "It is next time!" The Happy voice cry. Thus grew the tale of Wonderland
Master Griffin, I would marry my own mother for the excuse to stab my eyes out with her brooches than to see anything under your kilt," the man's voice said with an elegant aplomb. "Where would you like your guest's things, sir?
