She gave him a cold and enraged glare. ‘You are so pathetic, you make me want to vomit.
Gohan…Is that sunburn or are you blushing?
Porthos: He thinks he can challenge the mighty Porthos with a sword…
D’Artagnan: The mighty who?
Porthos: Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of me.
D’Artagnan: The world’s biggest windbag?
Porthos: Little pimple… meet me behind the Luxembourg at 1 o’clock and bring a long wooden box.
D’Artagnan: Bring your own…
Jenny: But surely Lord Blakely could not abandon his estates for so long.
Gareth: No. Lord Blakely could not. Not unless he had someone he could trust to run his estates in his absence. And Lord Blakely…Well, Lord Blakely did not trust anyone.
Jenny: Lord Blakely is talking about himself in the third person, past tense. Its disturbing.
Her words were slickly lacquered, dripping with venom that singed the air as they fell. She traced her tongue up my neck and whispered in a way that would shatter glass. “It’s the words inbetween,” she said, “those are the ones I truly mean.” Then, her toes curled with the release of the truth she kept hidden.
Laughter separates us from despair, and gives us a chance at love.
When conservative judges strike down laws, it’s because of what’s in the Constitution. When liberal judges strike down laws (or impose new laws), it’s because of what’s in the New York Times
Art history is a global version of that old children’s game Chinese whispers.
I was a smart-ass, born and raised. This had been my curse and would continue to be so.
Pop was her ideal of how a man should be, brave, gentle, comic, never losing his temper, never bragging, never complaining except in a joke, tolerant, understanding, intelligent, drinking a little too much as a good man should, and, to her eyes, very handsome.