My parents were entrepreneurs. They ran a small ad agency in upstate New York.
At times like this, I'm thankful I don't feel love.
Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.
. . . the man of my dreams is a girl.
Me? I had no dreams. No longings. Dreams only set you up for disappointment. Plus, you had to have a life to have dreams of a better life.
Is that all I am? A friend?" "Of course not," I say. "I love you. " "Am I the only one?" she asks. "Yes. Completely. " First, last, and always.
Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.
Investigation is a subtle process, requiring patience and fine analytical ability, as well as a skill in cultivating one's sources. When torture is condoned, these rare talented people leave the service, having been outstripped by less gifted colleagues with their quick-fix methods, and the service itself degenerates into a playground for sadists.
His eyes glow in the shadows as he slides the soft liquid semen dripping down my thigh in a path leading back into my swollen entry, as if he doesn't want to come out of my body. "Sticky?" he asks in a gruff murmur, bending his head and licking my shoulder as he pushes his semen back inside with one finger.
Our lives are so dominated by financial concerns - paying the rent - and consumer choices - what sort of detergent to buy at Costco - that larger issues get subsumed into economic ones. Not just social justice, but basic issues of faith and meaning.
You are so addicted and you have become so habituated that you cannot allow the cup to be empty even for a single moment. The moment you see emptiness anywhere you start filling it. You are so scared of emptiness, you are so afraid. : emptiness appears like death. You will fill it with anything, but you will fill it.