They sang the words in unison, yet somehow created a web of sounds with their voices. It was like hearing a piece of fabric woven with all the colors of a rainbow. I did not know that such beauty could be formed by the human mouth. I had never heard ...
I need to punish her. You need her. Just her. Nothing else. Ignoring my mind’s voice, I look at my prey. She’s the reason I am the way I am. It’s all her fault. And she’s going to pay.
Duke’s warm pink lips brushed his gently at first and then more firmly. He held the kiss for a long, breathless moment before pulling back a fraction of an inch. “Who’s a fag now?” His deep voice was low and intimate. “Do you give, roomie?
A perfect poem owes its perfection to sounding the voice of the heart and the melodies of the conscience, as well as its ability to reflect the considerations, beliefs, opinions, and horizons of thought of the poet, but not due to its formal or menta...
What,” came a deep male voice, “is this?” Silence froze, her hand still outstretched, clutching a damp, dirty cloth. Oh, dear Lord. Slowly she raised her eyes and found herself face-to-thighs with Mickey O’Connor’s extremely tight breeches.
For a moment she lay still in the big bed, blinking sleepily, loath to move. And then she realized that the angel’s song hadn’t stopped on her waking. Silence sat up. The tantalizingly beautiful voice was coming from the half-open door to Mickey ...
Be yourself; no base imitator of another, but your best self. There is something which you can do better than another. Listen to the inward voice and bravely obey that. Do the things at which you are great, not what you were never made for.
I want to wake up every day I have left to the warmth of your lips on mine, the sound of your voice singing next to me, the feel of your fingers on my skin and your heart beating music with mine.
He had never heard anything quite as amazing as that voice. She talked as if she was continuously on the verge of breaking into giggles. And when she giggled she sounded the way Ove imagined champagne bubbles would have sounded if they were capable o...
The psychobabble began. Reluctantly, Harry felt her vibes, embraced her empathy, and was seduced and violated by her verbal rhythm. Her sweet, whispering, soothing voice enslaved him with a melodic and rhythmic hypnotic dance, attaching her programme...
The sound of my name in his voice stopped me in midturn. I don't know how the hell he did it, but whenever he said my name, it cut through all other distractions and made me pause, as if he'd clenched me to him and kissed me.
Even though my voice is invisible, my words aren’t dead and ghostlike. My “I love you” is alive and well.
Jaren found that, in doing balancing exercises, he could shut out not only the anxiety he felt but also the whisperings of the magic. The more he practiced, the better he could insulate himself from its insistent voice, and all other worries, and jus...
I have the dance moves of a mustache, and a singing voice that sounds like a beard on the inside of my cheeks. Carry my love like karaoke in your pocket.
Let's say I have a mystical soul and a rational brain, and, like Montaigne, I am incapable of choosing between them. I don't know if I believe in God, but I am often tempted to believe.
I watch her as she leaves. Everything about her is fluid as a river. Her messy hair, her xylophone voice, the strokes of her paintbrush. Even her camouflage army jacket hangs loose, flowing like ribbons.
Dick called, but he just left dirty voice-mail messages. Let's just say if I'm ever in the market for a massage involving canola oil and marabou feathers, I'm covered.
You die." Thad's voice was heavy; the fire was gone. "It's like everyone has a personal window of time that the gateway to Nil stays open for them. It's always one year. Exactly three hundred sixty-five days. If you miss that window, you're done.
Fuck," Ranger said. Ranger didn't often curse and he rarely raised his voice. The fuck has been entirely conversational. Like he was now midly inconvenienced. He put his Bates boot to the door and the door popped open..
She was like steel. It was in her eyes, and in her voice, and in the fine, shining look of her. From the sparkling ankles to the expensive-crink of a hat. She looked sexy and untouchable, the way they can look if they want. She looked expensive.
Whenever we use our religion, as individuals, or as groups within the church, to act in tandem with political and economic groups that arrest the voice of truth or destroy others, then we are Judas.
