He plants his feet stubbornly, adopting what he must think is an heroic post. He's just begging for a pigeon to fly by and relieve itself.
It's possible to pretend I'm someone other than who I am, and if I pretend long enough, I can believe it.
The beast attempts a beautific look that could be mistaken for a bout of painful wind.
For the first time, I notice the lax skin at Mrs. Nightwing's jaw, the fine down that lies upon her cheek like the imprint of a childe's hand, and I wonder what it must be like watching yourself soften under the years, unable to stop it. what it's like measuring your days in perfecting girls' curtsies and drinking nightly glasses of sherry, trying to keep up with the world as it pulls you spinning into the furure, knowing you are always one step behind it.
I am dying a thousand cruel and unusual deaths as fifty pairs of eyes take me in, size me up like something that should be hanging over a fireplace in a gentleman's den.
No? Part girl, part wolf? Do they lick their butter knives?
When the music is over, she keeps her head down till she finds her seat again, and I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.
How I'd love to get away from here and be someone else for a while in a place where no one knows or expects certain things from me.
Warning: If you are insufferable, do not walk here. We shall eat you down to the marrow.
Tonight, she went into the woods, and I fear she shall live in the woods of my soul for the rest of my days.
Thou shalt not steal. I seem to recall that being one of God’s I’d rather you didn’t lest I have to smite you into ash commandments.
These are hard times. The world hurts. We live in fear and forget to walk with hope. But hope has not forgotten you. So ask it to dinner. It's probably hungry and would appreciate the invitation.
My misery is reaching epidemic proportions.
Truth casts a spell of its own.
The desperation meeting the silence with its unmasked wish.
You can never know about about your own destiny: are the people you meet there to play a part on your oun destiny, or do you exist just to play a role in theirs?
I changed the world; the world changed me. Everything you do comes back to you. When you affect a situation, you are also affected.
I can see his pain, see it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, over and over, and I understand what it costs him to hide it all.
I want to ask him if it’s possible that a girl can be born unlovable, or does she just become that way?
Sometimes I see things, I think. Out of the corner of my eye, taunting me, and then it’s gone. And dreams. Such horrible dreams. What if something terrible happened to me? What if I am damaged?" The rain is a cool kiss on my sleeve as I link my arm with hers. "We’re all damaged somehow.
In a world beyond this one, that river goes on singing sweetly, enchanting us with what we want to hear, shaping what we need to see in order to keep going. In those waters, all disappointments are forgotten, our mistakes forgiven. Gazing into them, we see a strong father. A loving mother. Warm rooms where we are sheltered, adored, wanted. And the uncertainty of our futures is nothing more than the fog of breath on a windowpane.
Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it
Meraa mitra yahaan aaiye," he murmurs. I understand only a little Hindi, enough to know what he has said: Come here, my friend. I've never known a braver girl," he says.
We're all damaged somehow."-A Great and Terrible Beauty
No one can steal our dream.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: