It was duck apocalypse!
I have stayed these years in my hovel because of you. I have taught myself languages because of you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids.
I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more.
All that matters is me and this sweet boy who thinks I’m beautiful.
I’ve been noble since they took you to the hospital,” he said through his teeth. “I’m tired of it. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, I can’t even work. I remember your voice moaning in my ear like the cry of the damned while I was having you,” he bit off, bending to her mouth. “You couldn’t get enough of me. You couldn’t get close enough to me. Your face when I fulfilled you... I ache every time I think about it.
But you’ll get used to it. Life has to be lived. You can’t sit by the road and watch it pass.
We all go through periods of anguish, times when we think we can’t face what lies ahead. But the only way to get past it is to go through it, straight through it. No detours, no camouflage, no running. You have to meet problems head-on, despite the pain.
Come on, forget your troubles and enjoy yourself. Tonight, there is no tomorrow. Eat, drink and be merry.
I was thinking that Rembrandt would have like to paint you.
He turned and pulled her in, placed his hands on the sides of her face and gazed into her eyes, his head moving closer and closer – -she still couldn’t say anything, couldn’t think of anything other than his mouth landing on hers.
The woman I love burns with jealousy, leaps to conclusions, cries, and turns to ice... but when she laughs... the world is mine.
The start receives such disproportionate attention because it isn’t deemed to be just one phase among many; for the Romantic, it contains in a concentrated form everything significant about love as a whole. Which is why, in so many love stories, there is simply nothing else for the narrator to do with a couple after they have triumphed over a range of initial obstacles other than to consign them to an ill-defined contented future – or kill them off. What we typically call love is only the start of love.
Until one is close to death, it must be difficult to declare anyone as the love of one’s life.
I would know you from the heart of the sun. I would know you even if I were mad. I will know you always, whatever form I wear. I swear it.
He thought her more beautiful than ever, with a beauty that was at once feminine and angelic, that wholeness of beauty that had moved Petrarch to song and brought Dante to his knees.
A Time Comes When Silence is Betrayal.
We worked side by side building our sandwiches. Mine, just a few modest layers of meat and cheese, with a bit of lettuce for some added crunchiness; his, a Dagwood, piled high with turkey, ham, salami, lettuce, tomatoes, two kinds of cheese, and – were those jalapenos – with a teetering slice of bread carefully placed on top – there’s no way that’s going to fit into his mouth – he admired it for a moment then using his giant paw, smashed it into submission.
Once again I felt light-headed, but this time it wasn’t from the scent of lilacs; it was from the scent of my own death.
We kissed and murmured impossible promises.
Ari’s words felt like drops of sunlight upon my skin, and my frame was burning with longing.