Either you’re standing under your haloes, eyes up to heaven, or you’re munching apples in their faces and flashing your bush. I’m not even sure they know which one they prefer. The best you can do is...
Either you’re standing under your halos, eyes up to heaven, or you’re munching apples in their faces and flashing your bush. I’m not even sure they know which they prefer. The best you can do is choos...
Everyone that exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted And she had tried, truly and honestly, tried so hard that sometimes, despite the nun’s kindness and patie...
Man is not born to be happy.
Family. The greatest loyalty after God.
God always seeth man from heaven and the angels report to Him every hour.
He spends the night in prayer. God’s voice, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, tells him what the politician in him already knows: that whatever he might stand to gain from playing one ag...
How do ugly men make their way through life? He thinks of Michelotto. When he walks down the street men take half a step back from him. But he, Cesare, wields a different power. His face has always be...
How do ugly men make their way through life?
I know what she is thinking. That she will never have those feelings. And she wants to have them. Oh, how much she wants to...I have seen it before, the way women yearn more for a child when they have...
I listen to people talking sometimes, that great river that is language, with all its undercurrents of grammar and nuance, and I wonder how we all learn so quickly to speak it, given that we begin whe...
If grace belongs to God, there are those who say that luck belongs to the Devil and that he looks after his own.
If you love a man for his honesty, you cannot become angry when he shows it.
It is the ones who keep you in thrall to more than their snatches who command the houses and the gowns to go with them. And for that they have first to love themselves.
It was so cold. In the monastery. Sometimes the wind came from the sea with ice in it... It could freeze the skin off your face. Once the snow was so deep we couldn't get out of the doors to the woods...
Johannes Burchard. The only man in Rome whose face remains the same be it perfume or shit under his nose.
There is a kind of comfort to be gained from the passing of time, hour upon hour, day upon day, time falling like thick flakes of snow, the next laid upon the last, again and again, until what has bee...
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