Be warned - Hammond does tend to be a bit optimistic about these kind of things. If the army were made up of one-legged mutes, he would praise their balance and their listening skills.
Dark waves fell along the side of his face and he stared, pleading for me to see more of him. To see the truth. “Maybe I want to be the kind of guy a girl like you believes in.
Escape plan number seventeen," I told her. "Run away and open a juice stand in Fresno." "Why Fresno?" "Sounds like the kind of place people drink a lot of juice.
Denial of our pattern of failure seems to be a kind of practical atheism or chosen ignorance among many believers and clergy.
At least with pets, and for all I know, people too, intelligence and quick-wittedness have nothing to do with a talent for being loved, or being kind, nothing at all, less than nothing.
You weren't picky about who got hurt. Still aren't. So don't preach at us like you're some kind of saint. You're just another sinner.
What kind of dark, twisted mind preys on young women? I think it was Poe that said the death of a beautiful woman is the most poetical thing in the universe, and if that was true… I was John Milton.
You are the earth, my dear grandson, and just like it takes everything without complaining, so have you shown us today that you will take everything in kind, and there's no greater title than this.
He'd barely seen me coming, and despite the horribleness of what I'd just done, I kind of wished one of my instructors had been there to grade me on such an awesome performance.
Thus it had come about that she had read far more fiction, and far more poetry, those two sanctuaries of the lonely, than most of her kind.
We are, all four of us, blood relatives, and we speak a kind of esoteric, family language, a sort of semantic geometry in which the shortest distance between any two points is a fullish circle.
Name the different kinds of people,’ said Miss Lupescu. ‘Now.’ Bod thought for a moment. ‘The living,’ he said. ‘Er. The dead.’ He stopped. Then, ‘... Cats?’ he offered, uncertainly.
There is no life after death, so offer kindness to all, not in the next life but now.
She was so shattered about what kind of man he was -- brutal, tender, passionate. There was little doubt he had some mental disorder.
Plus, in one of his e-mails, the guy said he didn't like pancakes. What kind of asshole doesn't like pancakes?
By God, I may be old-fashioned in my ideas, but women run around too much these days to suit me. They meet all kinds of crazy fish.
I’d known cruelty in a school—cruelty that would keep these amateurs up all night. But this kind of scene—crowds batting around a person because they thought he was weak—happened to be my personal trigger.
His eyes widened. “Are you some kind of mutant human? Like a fire user? And I use mutant as a compliment, you know. I wouldn’t think less of you.
My reputation is largely the creature of the kindly imaginings of my flock, whom I chose not to disillusion, in part because the truth had the kind of pathos in it that would bring on sympathy in its least bearable forms.
Do grown men always have to play games? Does everything have to be an excuse for another kind of game? Do any men grow up or do they only come of age?
How was it possible to be with someone and yet feel so utterly alone? How was it possible to be with someone as wonderful, warm and kind as Andrew and yet still wonder if love would ever find you?
