You can't celebrate gifts without celebrating the giver of all gifts.
Her face looked like it would shatter any second.
He had the prettiest hair she had ever seen on a man: dark brown, almost black, and soft like sable, it fell down to his shoulders. She wondered what he'd do if she threw some mud in it. Probably kill her.
You snore worse. At least I don't turn into a lion in my sleep. " "I only did it once. " "Once was weird enough, thank you.
What do you do to your hair?" "Dust, hair gel, and a little gun oil. " "Ever thought of patenting the recipe?" "No.
He referred to you as his little snack. " "He's a sweetie.
There was something very comforting about him, and I was not sure if it was his easy manner or his complete immunity to my scowling.
There are no bad foods, only bad food habits.
I think this. . . "perfectionist gene" that too many young women have holds them back, and instead they should be really aiming for "good enough. " You don't have to be perfect. Most men never think like that. They're just trying to figure out what's the opening and how they can seize it. They're not thinking about, Oh my gosh, I'm not perfect, my hair's not perfect today, I wore the wrong shoes. No.
When one does a thing, it appears good, otherwise one would not write it. Only later comes reflection, and one discards or accepts the thing. Time is the best censor, and patience a most excellent teacher.
The picture should be fecund. It must bring a world to birth.