All creatures are capable of darkness, but not all choose to succumb to it.
I am waiting for you in the living room... the very pink living room. I do hope that when we acquire a home of our own, after this nonsense has passed, you will not insist on bathing the entire space in shades of bubble gum.
If snowflakes are like people, how is anyone lucky enough to find anyone in this world.
He took her hand. If it were in my power, I would take you to that place from your movie, over the rainbow where dreams come true. But all I can offer is myself, and I’m not going anywhere.
If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop.
It’s hard being in the body of someone you don’t like, because you still have to respect it.
Und so fielen wir ineinander wie das entzweite Haus, das allein nicht stehen konnte, glorreiche, verdammte Liebende, die wir waren.
Sometimes I feel like a normal person. Sometimes I forget I’m on parole, that I’m not really free.
With aggressive come-ons, at least you knew where you stood. Holding hands, you got – hopeful.
We are all Romeos looking for our Juliet, but never finding her.
I am 15 and you are 51, I know you are the best, to be loved by, everyone.
Katherine stared intently at the cold, hard steel. She knew it would be loaded and that, if need be, there was extra ammunition in the back of the drawer. She would not be one of those girls, the ones who sit idly by and wait for the answers to come to them.
She was a little thing, too, inciting that basic compulsion in him as a man to protect her in so hectic a place as post-war Israel. Even so, his actions were borne out of an entirely different instinct, altogether: to fool her and anyone within a dart’s range... to protect himself.
He smelled the salt on his own lips and the orange blossoms in her hair. Real ones, he could see now, tucked into the curls with cheap, native combs. The sight of them gave him hope.
Caine usually woke from the recurring dream mid-air, having yet to be dashed upon the rocks, whimpering and panting like a child crying for his mother. Now he lifted his eyes to a dark, empty room in Jizan and the unusual, lingering scent of roses, and wept in his hands for his Father.
Caine was a murderer. A liar. A cad. A skulker in shadows and a heartless wretch. What sort of woman or God would love someone like him?
Was she on some sort of Candid Camera version of This is Your Sucky Love Life?
My ex calls the ochre winter ‘autumn’ as we queue to hear dock boys play jazz fugues in velvet dark. – Broken Verses.
One of the best lovers in Hollywood. What would a title like that encompass exactly? she wondered. Technique? Enthusiasm? Or was it more about equipment?
Miss Masters was not content with threatening to hire away his staff, oh no. First, she had to perfume it.