The constable lit the bong and lost himself in the scuba bubbles of sweet comforting smoke.
He is angry when he leave today. Like bear,” said Mrs. Korjev, who was possessed of an atavistic compulsion toward ursine simile.
Your soul may be more evolved than you are right now. If a kid fails tenth grade, do you make him repeat grades K through nine?” “No, I guess not.” “No, you just make him start over at the beginning of tenth grade. Well, it’s the same with souls. They only ascend. A person gets a soul when they can carry it to the next level, when they are ready to learn the next lesson.
Tits are flushing, ma’am,” said I. Well they were! If she was going to run around in the altogether, she needed to get control over her bubbly bits or she’d never master proper royal subterfuge and guile. “Bit of a tell, love, the pinkening of the knockers, on someone as fair as thou.
Disorder in here harshing my mellow.
Chinatown is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in a wonton, and fried.
It’s French,” she said. “They designed it like a zoo – you know, keep ’em in, but give everyone a good look at ’em...
There’s no such thing as a conservative hero.’ He was wise, that old man.
A thousand years of torture rule, The knave who dares to harm a fool.” I.
We will bring your guilt as well. You wouldn’t have escaped it anyway. It is a parent’s gift.
Look, I’ve always had an empty place in my life that I’ve alternatively tried to fill with food and penises, but now I have something.
What love is not torment when a man knows not how to love himself? Talk not of drowning, but attaining your heart’s desire by action: Put money in thy purse.
Every time you smell peaches, a ghost just got his rocks off.
Every time you give them a new metaphor for the kingdom they see the metaphor, a mustard seed, a field, a garden, a vineyard, it’s like pointing something out to a cat – the cat looks at your finger, not at what you’re pointing at.
The devil was smaller and rather younger than I would have guessed. He danced barefoot around the fire as he stoked it in preparation for my torment. The fiend wore a tunic of rough linen, leaves and sticks clinging to it, and a bycocket hat with a single feather in the style of bow hunters back home in Blighty. Bit of a ginger fringe. Scrawny and pathetic, really, for the prince of bloody darkness.
So, I guess we’re going to kill this guy, she thought. Then she said, “How does Thursday look for you?
Parables were never my strong suit. If you wan to say something, say it. So, of course, Joshua and Buddhists were the perfect people to hang out with, straight talkers that they were.
Sometimes, it turned out, art was what you had to say, not how you said it.
You tell soldiers what they need to hear to go to war. Bitches need a mission, not a goal.
I’m more visual than verbal, really. The painting and so forth.