Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
No more dancing with any male but me. No more time to learn who you are before you have to hold that personality against mine. No more freedom to explore your sensuality before I own it.
If that happens to us," she whispered, unable to wrap her mind around the idea of a life so long and so full of tragedy, "if we feel ourselves, who we are together, becoming lost in time, I don't want to Sleep. I want to say good-bye when I'm still me and you're still you.
Dmitri clearly gives good. . . blood.
To be haunted by my heart is no threat.
You try to leave and I will hunt you down. " Relief poured through her, but she smacked at his thigh with the back of her brush. "Like a rabid dog? Very romantic.
You," she managed to say hoarsely," are a very bad kitty cat.
The business of judging a headline AFTER you read the copy is wrong. It takes for granted that everybody reads the copy.
Humility is a quality for which I have only a limited admiration. In many phases of life it is a great mistake and degenerates into defensiveness or hypocrisy.
The customer is an object to be manipulated, not a concrete person whose aims the businessman is interested to satisfy.
Travel releases spontaneity. You become a godlike creature full or choice, free to visit the stately pleasure domes, make love in the morning, sketch a bell tower, read a history of Byzantium, stare for one hour at the face of Leonardo da Vinci's 'Madonna dei fusi. ' You open, as in childhood, and--for a time--receive this world. There's visceral aspect, too--the huntress who is free. Free to go, free to return home bringing memories to lay on the hearth.