It's not lies or anything, just truths I made up.
Italians give their city sexes, and they all agree that the sex for a particular city is quite correct, but none of them can explain why. I love that. London's middle-aged and male, respectably marrie...
Strip back the beliefs pasted on by governesses, schools, and states, you find indelible truths at one's core. Rome'll decline and fall again, Cortes'll lay Tenochtitlan to waste again, and later...th...
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.
We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love.
My soul may be stoned an' my luck may be rotted but I can still cuss a cuss
Lavender's my favorite scent, after White-Out and bacon rind. I sat down on the steps, not sure where to go next. A July afternoon yawned. Mirage puddles'd shimmered on the Welland road as I rode here...
The colorblind get by just fine not knowing blue from purple.
Nothing is more tiresome than being told what to admire,
Love's pure free joy when it works, but when it goes bad you pay for the good hours at loan-shark prices.
Luisa rolls her napkin into a compact ball. I ask three simple questions. How did he get that power? How is he using it? And how can it be taken off the sonofabitch?
Lunatics are writers whose works write them, Bat. Not all lunatics are writers, Mrs. Rey-believe me. But most writers are lunatics, Bat-believe me. The human world is made up of stories, not people.
La historia no admite leyes, sólo consecuencias.¿Qué determina las consecuencias? Las acciones depravadas y las acciones virtuosas.¿Y qué determina las acciones? Las creencias.
Men of your age don't bounce. They splat.
Mis'ry'n'barrassment are hungersome for blame
Mortality is inscribed in your cellular structure, and you say you’re not ill? Look at the painting. Look at it. She nods towards The Adoration of the Magi. I obey. I always will. Thirteen subjects, i...
Truth has this habit of changing after the fact, don’t you find?
Mum said I’d learn betrayals came in various shapes and sizes, but to betray someone’s dream is the unforgivable one.
My friend is composing an epic in Byronic stanzas entitled True History of Autua, Last Moriori & interrupts my journal writing to ask what rhymes with what: - Streams of blood? Themes of mud? Robin Ho...
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