Quinn sat at the stern now, using an oar and the rudder to keep the boat stable while the girls and Jonas hauled in two blue bats and a nondescript seven-inch fish.
It was wearying work, but Quinn was used to it, and he handled the oar and rudder on automatic. He gazed off to see the other boats take up their own positions.
Fear, Michael Grant.
Hah, virker som om jeg leser ei bok om fisking. Meget interessant.
The faults of women, of children, of the feeble, the indigent, and the ignorant, are the fault of the husbands, the fathers, the masters, the strong, the rich, and the wise.
I wonder how well she sleeps at night, and what kind of dreams she has. I wish I could step into them like she steps into mine.
She takes another drink and gives me an appraising look laced with sarcasm. "Maybe you're not such a monster, Mr Zombie. I mean, anyone who appreciates a good beer is at least halfway okay in my book."
I look at her and hold a hand to my chest. "My... name..." I wheeze, but can't think how to continue.
Warm Bodies, Isaac Marion
"But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say goodbye."
"Don't know why you... say goodbye. I say... hello."
Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting? I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.
I'm sorry I can't properly introduce myself, but I don't have a name any more. Hardly any of us do. We lose them like car keys, forget them like anniversaries.
The drunk in the cells tried to yodel, but his voice cracked and that discouraged him. He began to cry.
Jeg leste veldig mye R.L. Stine og Betsy Haynes på slutten av barneskolen, før det igjen gikk det veldig mye i slike Leseløvebøker pluss diverse andre barnebøker. Leste også mye blader, som Donald og Bamse. På ungdomsskolen begynte jeg å lese Harry Potter på Engelsk i stedet for på Norsk, og har ikke sett meg tilbake etter det.
His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.
To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.
I would always love Alaska Young, my crooked neighbour, with all my crooked heart.
So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.
"The pastor is saying something about how Charlie was a free spirit. He was and he wasn't. He was free because on the inside he was tied up in knots. He lived hard because on the inside he was dying. Charlie made inner conflict look delicious."
Please Ignore Vera Dietz, A.S King
The pastor is saying something about how Charlie was a free spirit. He was and he wasn't. He was free because on the inside he was tied up in knots. He lived hard because inside he was dying. Charlie made inner conflict look delicious.
"Listen, my darling, if you're going to be religious, you must be either a Hindu, a Christian or a Muslim. You heard what they said on the esplanade."
"I don't see why I can't be all three, Mamaji has two passports. He's Indian and French. Why can't I be a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim?"
"That's different. France and India are nations on earth."
"How many nations are there in the sky?"
I couldn't bear to have yet another French speaker guffawing at my name, so when the man on the phone asked, "Can I 'ave your name?" I said, "I am who I am." Half an hour later two pizzas arrived for "Ian Hoolihan."
Jeg savner å kunne lese sitatene som andre har sitert på selve profilen deres, og også se mine sitater inne på min profil. Nå må vi klikke på en link for å komme videre til sitatet, og så interessert i andre menneskers sitater er jeg ikke, haha. Vet ikke jeg, men synes det var bedre å kunne lese andres sitater på rekke og rad uten å måtte bevisst klikke meg videre.
Mulig dette er bare meg.
I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the supersensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstacy and waited - waited with a beating heart.
Bram Stoker - Dracula