I cannot fear to be wrong because I never think I'm wrong until I am proven wrong. In fact, I am uncomfortable unless I am capitalizing my experience.
You find the wrong boy, you ask for trouble. You find the right boy, you find love.
I couldn't stand here, hanging on, when the very thing I held disappeared more with each passing day.
Any happiness, no matter how brief, seemed better than the long, simmering torture of waking up day after day, knowing I could never have him.
I nibbled my lower lip. "If you could see into my past just by touching my back, you'd have a hard time resisting the temptation too. " "I have a hard time keeping my hands off you without that added bonus.
One more secret smile. One more shared laugh. One more electric kiss. Finding him was like finding someone I didn't know I was searching for.
If we're doing this for ten hours, I'm going to need a little incentive to stay motivated. " Patch hooked his elbow around my neck and dragged me into a kiss. "Every time you strip my sword, I owe you a kiss. How's that sound?" I bit my lip to keep from giggling. "That sounds really dirty. " Patch waggled his eyebrows. "Look whose mind just rolled into the gutter. Two kisses per strip. Any objections?" I pulled on an innocent face. "None whatsoever.
Safety lies in the middle course. [Lat. , Medio tutissimus ibis. ]
If you write a post and put it on a blog, that's a historical document. If you change your template, then that entry looks completely different. It's the same words, but not the same meaning. This all depends on what historical questions that people will be asking and we can't know what they will want.
The seen is the changing, the unseen is the unchanging.
Language serves not only to express thought but to make possible thoughts which could not exist without it.