I like my afterglow with you in motion. I measure time by how your body sways.
Part of being a writer is defending your vision and not caving in to outside pressures.
I could shove this swizzle stick through his heart, Min thought. She would’nt do it, of course. The stick was plastic and not nearly pointed enough on the end.
It’s just that you don’t respect me enough to respect what I want. I have to want what you want or it doesn’t count or its’s no good. Well, I don’t want what you want. And I don’t see why I have to. I mean, as long as I respect what you want and let you live your life, why do you care?
A lot of really big trees had died to make that desk. His mother had probably gnawed them down, used her nails to saw the boards, and finished the decorative cutwork with her tongue.
He loved her all he could; but he couldn’t love her very much.
Dempseys are never in trouble. We just have stretches of life that are more interesting than others.
As far as I’m concerned the last good man went when Elvis died.
Everybody’s crooked. The trick is to find out how they’re bent.
Where were all the women gamblers? It wasn’t as if being a woman wasn’t a huge risk all by itself. Twenty-eight percent of female homocide victims were killed by husbands or lovers. Which, come to think of it, was probably why there weren’t any women gamblers. Living with men was enough of a gamble.
I’ll never forget my first time with you’ Min said as she edged the doughnut off her finger. ‘The earth moved, and then my mother asked my father who he was going down on at lunch.
Once you know the truth, it’s always obvious.
I believe things will work out for us if we just believe in ourselves.
If you are not going to be a comfort, have the decency to be an empty space.
You’re not by any chance my stepmother are you?” Min said to her mother’s reflection. “Because that would explain so much.
There never were any women who liked to cook for men everyday. There were only women who cooked for survival and pretended to like it. And now there are men who cook for survival. Like you. Think of this as survivalist training. Very macho.
Sorry. I forgot your lust for small talk. And how have you been in the fourteen hours since we last spoke, eight of which you were sleeping?
I’m stuck in the old me, and I don’t know how to get out. I just know the old me isn’t the real me anymore.
Lee stood in front of the class the first day and said, “Anybody who makes fun of romance fiction is making fun of Jane Austen, and anybody who makes fun of Jane Austen answers to me.” Why yes, I would walk across broken glass for that man. Why do you ask?
Don’t let foolish assumptions about what’s appropriate keep you from a good man. There are too few good men around to ignore one just because he’s the perfect age for you.