#temporary

Hollywood is an extraordinary kind of temporary place. ↗

— John Schlesinger

#hollywood #kind #place #temporary

The world, as it is, is not a permanent reality, but is a temporary product of our choices as creators. ↗

— Bryant McGill

#reality #temporary #death

Competition is the final price determinant and competitive prices may result in profits which force you to accept a rate of return less than you hoped for, or for that matter to accept temporary losses. ↗

— Alfred P. Sloan

#competition #competitive #final #force #hoped

I use the word “man” loosely. A better description would be “the most beautiful specimen of Homo sapiens sapiens with a set of XY chromosomes to grace the planet Earth at this moment, or any other era, epoch, or age in history. ↗

— Elle Lothlorien

#age

Shortly before school started, I moved into a studio apartment on a quiet street near the bustle of the downtown in one of the most self-conscious bends of the world. The “Gold Coast” was a neighborhood that stretched five blocks along the lake in a sliver of land just south of Lincoln Park and north of River North. The streets were like fine necklaces and strung together were the brownstone houses and tall condominiums and tiny mansions like pearls, and when the day broke and the sun faded away, their lights burned like jewels shining gaudily in the night. The world’s most elegant bazaar, Michigan Avenue, jutted out from its eastern tip near The Drake Hotel and the timeless blue-green waters of Lake Michigan pressed its shores. The fractious make-up of the people that inhabited it, the flat squareness of its parks and the hint of the lake at the ends of its tree-lined streets squeezed together a domesticated cesspool of age and wealth and standing. It was a place one could readily dress up for an expensive dinner at one of the fashionable restaurants or have a drink miles high in the lounge of the looming John Hancock Building and five minutes later be out walking on the beach with pants cuffed and feet in the cool water at the lake’s edge. ↗

— Daniel Amory

#city #contemporary-fiction #contemporary-literature #downtown #lake

Poetry is not an art, it's a symptom. ↗

— Michele Brenton

#humor #inspirational #poet #poetry #art

Many people are caught up with the toys of contemporary society. Because of great advancements in our culture, some have cultivated an attitude of “comfortability.” They may be going to hell, but it is going to be a comfortable ride for them. ↗

— A.W. Tozer

#contemporary #hell #toys #attitude

The scent of him was subtle, beautifully fresh, and she couldn’t think clearly. No man had ever brought out these intense feelings in her. Chris Augustine was dangerous and she could get lost in his arms. ↗

— Suzan Battah

#french #latino #multicultural #romance #beauty

No, it's okay. It was just … weird. No one has ever called me hot before.” “Really?” Trace frowned. “Well, that changes right now.” He ceased walking, stopping in the dead center of the pathway and reached for my hands. “Jade Cannon, you are totally hot!” Trace announced loudly, and people nearby stopped to stare at us after his outburst. I couldn't help but laugh. ↗

— Chelsea Lynn Charters

#high-school #teenage-love #the-gossip-web #young-adult #change

It was the way he communicated it, while still being the man’s man that he was, the alpha, who liked being in charge ↗

— Kailin Gow

#alpha-male #erotica-romance #kailin-gow #romance #sebastian-sorensen