There’s something creepy about any repeating dream, I think, about knowing your subconscious is digging obsessively at some object that won’t be dislodged.
Promises are easily broken because they are free to give.
Some birds are not meant to be caged.
The gods frowned upon wastrels. Roland had been raised, first by his father and then by Cort, his greatest teacher, to believe this, and so he still believed. Those gods might not punish at once, but sooner or later the penance would be paid. And the longer the wait, the greater the weight.
Only equals speak the truth, that’s my thought on’t. Friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of regard.
So much you did and so much more you would have done, aye, and without a check or qualm, and so will the world end, I think, a victim of love rather than hate. For love’s ever been the more destructive weapon, sure.
He supposed it was good none of them knew how lost he was just now, how absent the intuition that had carried him through so many difficult situations.
Hell, we were kids.
If you think getting old is tough for men, let me tell you, it’s no picnic for women. Once your tits fall, you become pretty much visible to fifty percent of the population.
Any big hotels have got scandals,” he said. “Just like every big hotel has got a ghost. Why? Hell, people come and go.
She did not want to know about dark cabals and murderous plans. What she wanted from the cards was relatively innocent.
You might also notice how much simpler the thought is to understand when it’s broken up into two thoughts. This makes matters easier for the reader, and the reader must always be your main concern; without Constant Reader, you are just a voice quacking in the void.
Roland said nothing, but heard the voice of Cort in his mind: Fault always lies in the same place, my fine babies: with him weak enough to lay blame.
The boy who became a man progressed from darkness and unlearning to light and responsibility.
But a boy can be taken, used, schooled to remember some things and to forget all the others. They’ve all forgotten whatever it was they had to fight about in the first place; the world has moved on since then. Now they just fight to the sound of them awful drumbeats, some few still young, most of them old enough for the rocking chair, like us here, all of them stupid grots who only live to kill and kill to live.
The small men and women with the upslanted eyes looked at his caked forehead and bloody jacket sleeve with unsettling Oriental blandness.
It’s a problem, isn’t it?” “It’s an opportunity,” Roland corrected.
Was it possible, Danny wondered, to be glad you had done something and still be so ashamed of that something that you tried not to think of it?
He’d sent his cock on its exploring way up more damp and cozy cracks than Jonas had ever seen in his life, and Jonas was twice his age.
Aber das Wesen in ihrem Leib ist nichts als Gift mit einem Herzschlag.