Poverty is the parent of revolution and crime.
It wasn't exactly that Lula was fat. It was more that she was too short for her weight. " - Stephanie Plum
Are you telling me your brain and your lady parts decided on a love fest bake-off winner?
Ranger removed my goggles "Would you like to come home with me?" I stepped away from him. "Thank you for the offer, but no. I'm done with men. " Ranger smiled. "Forever?" "Until I figure some things out. " "And if you don't figure them out?" "If I can't figure them out on my own, I'll ask you to help me. " "Babe, that's like the blind leading the blind.
A uniform cordoned off the area with crime scene tape. The M. E. pulled in and parked. There were two EMT trucks idling at the edge of the lot. I’d stayed close to the back door, and one of the Rangeman guys had taken a position two feet from me, standing at parade rest. No doubt in my mind he’d take a bullet for me rather than face Ranger over a dead Stephanie.
I like my nuts," Mooner said. "I don't want them cut off. I'd be, like, nutless then.
Opening my door to Dillon Ruddick, my bulding super. I handed him a cup of coffee. "Sorry about the blood. " "What was it this time?" No one reported gunfire. " "I hit a guy in the face with a hair dryer. " "Whoa. " Dillon said. "It wasn't my fault," I told him. "Maybe we should lay down some linoleum here. It would make things easier for clean up.
I talked to George Lucas once, not about Star Wars. Everyone wants to talk to him about Star Wars, and I didn't want to be one of those people. In person - at least on this occasion - he wasn't effervescent and giddy, as the Star Wars movies are. He's more focused.
Does he think to scare me? Arya kissed him where his nose should be and plucked the grave worm from his eye to eat it, but it melted like a shadow in her hand. The yellow skull was melting too, and the kindliest old man that she had ever seen was smiling down on her. "No one has ever tried to eat my worm before," he said. "Are you hungry, child?" Yes, she thought, but not for food.
With respect to the use of this sparkling coloured material (butterfly wings around 1955, fh) - the constituent parts of which remain indistinguishable - with the aim of producing a very vivid effect of scintillation, I realised that, for me, this responds to needs of the same order as those that formerly led me, in many drawings and paintings, to organize my lines and patches of colour so that the objects represented would meld into everything around them, so that the result would be a sort of continuous, universal soup with an intensive flavour of life.
It's a dangerous dog that doesn't bark.