It'll be all right. Julia's gentleness makes it worse. In the end, Jace.It doesn't feel very all right.That's because it's not the end.
It's a small world. It keeps recrossing itself.
It's not lies or anything, just truths I made up.
It's true, reading too many novels makes you go blind.
Well, Hae-Joo probed, what did I do to relax? I play Go against my sony, I said.To relax? he responded, incredulous. Who wins, you or the sony?The sony, I answered, or how would I ever improve?So winn...
When insolvent, pack minimally, with a valise tough enough to be thrown onto a London pavement from a first- or second-floor window. Insist on hotel rooms no higher.
So do not fritter away your days. Sooner than you fear, you will stand before a mirror in a care home, look at your body, and think, E.T., locked in a ruddy cupboard for a fortnight.
I’d learn betrayals came in various shapes and sizes, but to betray someone’s dream is the unforgivable one.
I’m not in the Scouts any more,’ I remind her. Mr Moody our scoutmaster told me to get lost, so I did, and it took the Snowdonia mountain rescue service two days to find my shelter. I’d been on the lo...
I’m not in the Scouts any more,’ I remind her. Mr Moody our scoutmaster told me to get lost, so I did, and it took the Snowdonia mountain rescue service two days to find my shelter.
Jealous and sweet, this music was, sobbing and gorgeous, muddy and crystal. But if the right words existed the music wouldn’t need to.
Scholars discern motions in history & formulate these motions into rules that govern the rises & falls of civilizations. My belief runs contrary, however. To wit: history admits no rules, only outcome...
La risa es una blasfemia anárquica. Los tiranos hacen bien en temerla.
La risata è anarchia e blasfema. I tiranni fanno bene a temerla.
La segunda ley de la supervivencia afirma que no existe una segunda ley. O comes o te comen. Punto.
Time is the speed at which the past decays, but disneys enable a brief resurrection.
Lady Moon rose an' gazed o'er my busted'n'beautsome Valleys with silv'ry'n'sorryin' eyes, an' the dingos mourned for the died uns.
The river’s vowels and the trees’ consonants speak a not-quite-foreign language.
Leave Ueno Station through the park entrance, go past the concert hall and museums, skirt around the fountain, and you come to a sort of tree garden. Homeless people live here, in tents made of sky-bl...
Leaves turned to soil beneath my feet. Thus it is, trees eat themselves.
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