I'm doing what I want to do, and I don't care what you think you need!
If he full-out flexed, I would probably faint, or jump off the building.
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.
This idea that failure is not an option: It makes failure invisible, inconceivable and inevitable.
Long ago the word alone was treated as two words, all one. To be all one meant to be wholly one, to be in oneness, either essentially or temporarily. That is precisely the goal of solitude, to be all one.
Your family should be there. Your family should always be there. What does it say about you if they aren't?
If you cut down a forest, it doesn't matter how many sawmills you have if there are no more trees.