Victorian literature was my subject at Harvard.
It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.
Could I but lay my head in your lap, lass. Feel your hand on me, and sleep wi' the scent of you in my bed. Christ, Sassenach. I need ye.
Really rather fascinating, you know,' he confided, and I recognized, with an internal sigh, the song of the scholar, as identifying a sound as the terr-whit! of a thrush.
Home is the place where they have to take you in
But a man is not forgotten, as long as there are two people left under the sky. One, to tell the story; the other, to hear it.
Catholics don't believe in divorce. We do believe in murder. There's always Confession, after all. --Brianna Fraser to Roger MacKenzie
The effort to feel happy is often precisely the thing that makes us miserable. And that it is out constant efforts to eliminate the negative - insecurity, uncertainty, failure, or sadness - that is what causes us to feel so insecure, anxious, uncertain, or unhappy.
Thou art the Sun of other days. They shine by giving back the rays.
I enjoy getting dressed as a Barbie doll.
I don't know whether I am different from other people. Perhaps I am. Perhaps no one has a personality, and people are inventing themselves in the context in which they find themselves.