Her logic was a combination of half-truths and clichés, her worldview a compound of misconceptions deriving from a history of our nation as written from the perspective of a subway tunnel.

Her latest client is Professor Desmond Curnin, a university professor who teaches library sciences to large groups of students. He’s quick to pay on-time, quick to never fall behind. He’s a brown-hair...

Her gaze dropped to the right side of his mouth, to the corner of his lip that was permanently pulled into a slight snarl by the edge of the angry scar, and then to the other side of his mouth, to the...

Her eyes, which refused to meet mine, had the defensive coldness of those who are determined to lose hope.

Her eye was aflame, and she spoke like Cleopatra telling an Ethiopian slave where he got off.

Her entrances were always triumphs; but they had no sequel. As soon as people began to talk they ceased to see her.

Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.But no, that is not quite accurate. There is one place where her absence comes locally home to me, and it is a place I can't avoid. I mean my own bo...

Hello, Professor McGonagall, said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.What — what are you doing? said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air...

He's been to the brink and come back. I guess when you lose your pride, even for just a moment, you realise how much it means to you.

He will not take her.Sabelle turned toward the booming declaration. Ice. His protective gaze was as tangible as a caress. She swallowed.Of course not, Duke assured. Sabelle is too important to our cau...

He who does the task Dictated by duty, Caring nothing For the fruit of the action, He is a yogi. (Bhagavad-Gita, VI:I) Hence

He wasn’t certain how this woman had come to mean so much to him. It seemed that one day she was a stranger, and the next she was as indispensable as air. And yet it hadn’t happened in a blinding flas...

He was, in his way, as close to a Zen master as I've ever had, and all of us who fell under his influence began with his style and eventually ended up with our own.

He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world.She was the book thief without the words.Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would ho...

He was skinny with soft hair, and his thick, murky eyes watched as the stranger played one more song in the heavy room. From face to face, he looked on as the man played and the woman wept. The differ...

He was one of that countless and multifarious legion of vulgar persons, sickly abortions and half-educated petty tyrants who like a flash attach themselves to the current ideas that are most fashionab...

He was done with every lie he'd ever allowed himself to believe, every lie he'd ever lived, every lie.

He was confounded by the idea that passing the prime of your life in a cubicle, spending hours a day at a computer, in exchange for money, was considered acceptable, but relaxing in a tent in the wood...

He was clearly used to sucking in the universe, examining it, then bending it to his will.

He was bright, bright, bright, like a lantern above a pub door in November- he made you want to come in and never leave.