I think dating courtesies are common courtesies that should be practiced in most all civilized encounters. I pine for the days of good, old-fashioned manners.
I was adrift in a sea of questions and if answers were lifeboats, I was in imminent danger of drowning.
Safety is a fence, and fences are for sheep. I would rather die at twenty-two, knowing the truth, then live in a cage of lies for a hundred years.
If he were any other man, I might have suspected him of substance abuse, of being coked up or something. But Barrons was too much a purist for that; his drugs were money, power, and control.
Life’s not linear at all. It happens in lighting flashes. So fast you don’t see those lay-you-out cold moments coming at you until you’re Wile E. Coyote, steamrolled flat as a pancake by the Road Runner, victim of your own elaborate schemes.
Being nearly naked around Barrons felt a lot like going to a shark convention lightly basted in blood.
Nuns? They’d take one look at Barrons and decide the devil himself had come knockng. He not only looked dangerous, he emanated something that made even me feel like crossing myself sometimes, and I’m not religious.
All those ‘bloodys’ was a veritable cornucopia of emotion for Barrons.
His coworker was velvety-skinned, a sexy boy-on-the-cusp-of man.
Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.
You were firing questions at me today, trying to get inside my head. You asked if I believe in God. I told you of course I do – I’ve always had a strong sense of self.
He made a lousy passenger, barking instructions I ignored.
Is anyone who’s supposed to be dead actually dead?
Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever.
Werewolves? Oh please, just plain stupid. Who wants to get it on with a man ruled by his inner dog?
Superglue after duct tape a girl’s best friend.
You can’t go forward if you’re looking backward. You run into walls that way.
Omnipotent not omniscient. We are frequently blinded by how much we see.
Unpredictable as a hungry lion, he might be feared by everyone else, but he never ripped out my throat, only licked me, and, if his tongue was a little rough sometimes, it was worth it to walk beside the king of the jungle.
Gwen Cassidy needed a man. Desperately. Failing that, she’d settle for a cigarette.