Didn't you have any sadistic nannies who told you these tales to keep you quiet and well behaved at night? Heavens, what's to become of the Empire if governesses have lost their touch for scaring the wits out of their girls?
In books, the truth makes everything good and fine. The good prevail. The wicked are punished. There is happiness. But it's not like that really, is it?" "No," I say. "I suppose it only makes everything known.
One could argue that it's romantic to die for love. Of course, then you're dead and unable to take that honeymoon trip to the Alps with all the other fashionable young couples, which is a shame.
If God has nothing better to do than punish schoolgirls for a bit of tomfoolery, then I've no use for God.
The trouble with morning is that it comes well before noon.
Oh, I didn't think it wise to hide it. Might not be able to find it again," I say, cheerily. "It's sitting in plain view on your chair in the great hall. I do hope that was the best place for it.
This is going to make such a great story: How I nursed a pirate back to health and my love saved him," Miss Ohio said with a contented sigh. "And then we can have our own reality show about our relationship." - "Beauty Queens
Beauty, grace, and charm my foot. It's a school for sadists with good tea-serving skills.
I've had so many bikini waxes, I cry every time I see a Popsicle stick.
We have work to do if you are not to be a total failure like high-waisted, acid-wash jeans.
Do you think they missed him terribly when he fell? Did God cry over his lost angel, I wonder?
That's what living in their world is-a big lie. An illusion where everyone looks the other way and pretends that nothing unpleasant exists at all, no goblins of the dark, no ghosts of the soul.
We're comfortable with women in certain roles but not comfortable with women expressing anger or fully accepting their power. The most daring question a woman can ask is, 'What do I want?'
The night's chilly breath tickles up my neck and finds my ear, whispering secrets only the wind knows.
My dad was a Presbyterian minister. Yes, I am one of those dreaded P.K.s - Preachers Kids. Be afraid.
We sit and listen and are enthralled anew, for good stories, it seems, never lose their magic.
Felicity and I watch the dancers moving as one. They spin about like the earth on it's axis, enduring the dark, waiting for the sun.
My cholera's acting up again.
The key holds the truth
Around us the night creatures have their say. We are surrounded by a symphony of crickets and frogs. Neither of us feels the need to speak, and I suppose that is one of the qualities I find comforting in Kartik. We can be alone together.
No one can live in the light all the time.
So much of the literature we had to read for high school English class was filled with victimized, tragic, symbolic women who spurred the plot forward with their inevitable shunning/death/shunning-followed-by-pregnancy-followed-by-death timelines.
To live is to love, to love is to live.
All things are possible.
When I dream, I dream of him.
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