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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #pa
C'est pour sauvegarder ce mystère que les hommes ont supplié longtemps les femmes de ne pas abandoner les robes longues (...) tout ce qui accentue en l'Autre la différence le rend plus désirable, puisque c'est l'Autre en tant que tel que l'homme veut s'approprier. ↗
My body slid from human to wolf in a crack! of black smoke. Wolf was panting and I watched frost dissipate on my hot tongue, sending tiny rivulets of steam into the air. The world was sharp and clear, and I never realized how many different colors of shadow there were. It made me savor the dark beauty of night even more. ↗
Quick dinner with ... Ang [Lee] and his wife Jane who's visiting with the children for a while. We talked about her work as a microbiologist and the behaviour of the epithingalingie under the influence of cholesterol. She's fascinated by cholesterol. Says it's very beautiful: bright yellow. She says Ang is wholly uninterested. He has no idea what she does. I check this out for myself. 'What does Jane do?' I ask. 'Science,' he says vaguely. ↗
#cholesterol #disparate-interests #husbands #lack-of-interest #married-couples
How long are you planning on us sitting up here, kid?" Brendan asked. I looked over at him. He sat still, with his head leant back against the rooftop wall, his eyes closed, his hands resting on his lap. "Sorry, is being here getting in the way of your beauty sleep?" "I don't need beauty sleep, kid. I'm naturally this good-looking." I snorted. "Whatever makes you feel good, Shifter." No point boosting his ego. ↗
My father used to tease me at the table by implying that “cold Claire” had brought in the draft. I had three older sisters, all beautiful, and I was always less affected than them, slow to smile. I remember finding it extremely hard to open presents as a child because the requisite theatricality was too exhausting. My sisters forever humiliated me over a moment in fifth grade when I’d opened a present from my grandmother and declared, straight-faced, “I already have this. ↗
Behind a barbed-wire fence, a dirt road disappears into the distance in the pine trees and corners. Lost, dead roads, no ends or remaining purposes, power lines now dead and sagging and forgotten, grown high in weeds and young trees. The trees have entirely encased a speed limit sign, strange sight, nothing so pointless as a speed limit sign in the midst of dense woods, pointless and beautifully so. ↗
All in a moment Hurlow forgot the beauty of the sounds and smelt fear. He smelt it as an animal smells it, the breath cold in his nostrils. He had read about Pan, a dead god who might safely be patronized while poring over a book in a London lodging, but here and at this hour a god not to be scorned. ("Furze Hollow") ↗
