I start to unbutton his shirt. "Got to get these clothes off," I mutter. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that." Smile. Lopsided. Sexy.
I'm a virgin. But this is an old shirt. --T-SHIRT
Today you can buy the Dialogues of Plato for less than you would spend on a fifth of whiskey, or Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire for the price of a cheap shirt. You can buy a fair beginning of an education in any bookstore with a good stock of paperback books for less than you would spend on a week's supply of gasoline.
I intend to live forever. So far, so good. - T-SHIRT
I may not have any skeletons in my closet, but I do have a little box of souls in my sock drawer. —T-SHIRT
It’s all fun and games until someone loses a testicle. —T-SHIRT
Somehow, Sydney had an internal clock that told her when time was up. I think it was part of her inherent ability to keep track of a hundred things at once. Not me. In these moments, my thoughts were usually focused on getting her shirt off and whether I’d get past the bra this time. So far, I hadn’t.
I opened the door. He looked down at my shirt and smiled. "Funny," he said. "Don't call my boobs funny," I answered.
Is that an invitation?” “I suppose it is.” “Good.” Cade’s voice dropped lower, adding one last thing before hanging up. “And tell your friend in the striped shirt that he’s in my seat.
She spilled whiskey on her shirt, she gon have to get it cleaned. She been going way to hard, someone has to intervene.
She call me the referee cause I be so official. My shirt aint got no stripes but I can make that pussy whistle.
Each morning the day lies like a fresh shirt on our bed; this incomparably fine, incomparably tightly woven tissue of pure prediction fits us perfectly. The happiness of the next twenty-four hours depends on our ability, on waking, to pick it up.
My mom was a garage sale person, save money. Come on in to the garage sale, you might find a shirt. She'd get in that garage sale and point stuff out to you. There's a good fork for a nickel. Yeah, that's beautiful. It's a little high. If it were three cents I'd snap it up.
Every day I'll wear your memory like a favorite shirt upon my back
A hair shirt does not always render those chaste who wear it.
A man may have strong humanitarian and democratic principles, but if he happens to have been brought up as a bath-taking, shirt-changing lover of fresh air, he will have to overcome certain physical repugnance before he can bring himself to put those principles into practice.
My first date has been...mythologized as 'Bieber's Dating Disaster.' I took her to a buffet restaurant. Yes, I wore a white shirt. Yes, I got spaghetti.
I notice my wife when she's on the phone with her friends, man they will share every animate details of their lives with each other. See men once we become friends with another man we may never say another word to him, unless there's valuable information that needs to be exchanged. Things like "Hey Jim, your shirt's on fire."
Zeus most glorious and most great, Thundercloud, throned in the heavens! Let not the sun go down and the darkness come, until I cast down headlong the citadel of Priam in flames, and burn his gates with blazing fire, and tear to rags the shirt upon Hectors breast! May many of his men fall about him prone in the dust and bite the earth!
The loss of wealth is loss of dirt, As sages in all times assert; The happy man's without a shirt.
Your clothes smell heavily of clothing. Your den is filled with low-hanging palls of fresh air. The only rattle in your car is the sound of toll change in the ashtray. The absence of telltale tobacco stains on your shirt collar tells the tale - you've licked the smoking habit.
If you want to have clean ideas, change them as often as your shirts.
Colombe Josse is the older Jesse daughter. Colombe Jesse is also a sort of tall blonde leek who dresses like a penniless Bohemian. If there is one thing I despise, it is the perverse affectation of rich people who go around dressing as if they were poor, in second-hand clothes, ill-fitting gray bonnets, socks full of holes, and flowered shirts under threadbare sweaters. Not only is it ugly, it is also insulting: nothing is more despicable than a rich man's scorn for a poor man's longing.
It's like all guys want to do is make a dunk, grab their shirt and yell out and scream - they could be down 30 points but that's what they do. Okay, so you made a dunk. Get back down the floor on defense!
If the college you visit has a bookstore filled with t-shirts rather than books, find another college.
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