Four Herefords stood nearby, unmoving in the snow, finding the humans unworrying. Limited imaginations. Diondra
Feeling sad means having too much time on your hands, usually.
Eu gosto do inverno pois escurece cedo e isso significa que o dia acabou. Gosto de riscar os dias no calendário - 151 dias riscados e não aconteceu nada verdadeiramente horrível. 152 e o mundo não des...
Es un baño de humildad, eso de convertirte en precisamente aquello que en otro tiempo despreciaste.
Dorothy has one of those kitten-in-a-tree posters-- Hang in There! She posts her poster with all sincerity. I like to picture her running into some self-impressed Williamsburg bitch, all Bettie Page b...
Don't fret, we'll sort this out: the true and the not true and the might as well be true.
Diary Amy. She was meant to be likable. Meant for someone like you to like her. She’s easy to like. I’ve never understood why that’s considered a compliment—that just anyone could like you. No matter.
Curry gosta de dizer que repórteres são como vampiros. Não podem entrar em sua casa sem seu convite, mas, uma vez do lado de dentro, você não consegue expulsá-los até que tenham sugado todo o seu sang...
But there’s no app for a bourbon buzz on a warm day in a cool, dark bar. The world will always want a drink.
But everyone buys bulk because—unlike Manhattanites—they all have space to store twenty-four jars of sweet pickles. And—unlike Manhattanites—they all have uses for twenty-four jars of sweet pickles.
But I lack formal education. So I’m left with the feeling that I’m smarter than everyone around me but that if I ever got around really smart people—people who went to universities and drank wine and...
But I know I'll never sleep again. I can't close my eyes when I'm next to her. It's like sleeping with a spider.
But I felt, for once, decent. Not telling-myself-I-am decent, but just decent.
Before Amy and I got serious, got engaged, got married, I would get glimpses of Go’s thoughts in a sentence here or there. It’s funny, I can’t quite get a bead on her, like who she really is. And: You...
Because isn’t that the point of every relationship: to be known by someone else, to be understood?
At some point, Len was going to make a real pass at her, forcing her to make a real decision, and the game was so pathetic it made her want to weep. The hunter and the hunted, but it was like a bad na...
And yet, I felt it too: the house. Not necessarily malevolent, but...mindful. I could feel it studying me, does that make sense? It crowded me. One day, I was wiping down the floorboards, and suffered...
And when I picture his mind, I hear my name as a shy crystal ping that occurs once, maybe twice, a day and quickly subsides. I just wish he thought about me as much as I do him.
And it’s so far beyond fine that you know you can never go back to fine.
And every single person in this case lies, is lying, did lie.