I can't live without the sun shining down on my face, and I can't dream without the stars kissing me goodnight.
If you are having private thoughts and ask an intimate friend to listen to them in privacy or on a date will that be considered too intimi-dating? And if the thoughts are proved to be untrue, but your friend still insists on believing in them anyway, would that be considered a cons-piracy?
Do you understand any of this? he said, pointing to the lines and symbols that covered the massive screens.Some people understand the value of an education.Hale stretched and crossed his legs, the settled his arm around Kat's shoulders.That's sweet, Kat. Maybe later I'll buy you a university. And an ice cream.I'd settle for the ice cream.Deal.
You know you're smarter than all of them, right? Hale said flatly.In fact, if you wanted to PROVE it...He glanced at the blackjack tables.Simon shook his head. I don't count cards, Hale.Don't? Hale smiled. Or won't? You know, technically, it's not illegal.But it's frowned upon.Sweat beaded at Simon's brow. He sounded like someone had just suggested he swim after eating... run with scissors... It is SERIOUSLY frowned upon.
Unexpected clashes between past and present may arouse a surge of bewilderment, but ‘time’ can be a redeemer and heal mental wreckage. Time might prove to be a dependable ally and a reliable coach to find a new inspiring sequel for the future. (“Disruption”)
My dear cousin means the world to me. He is my only ally and I lost him. Deep in my heart I know he didn’t want to blame me but his heart is set on that training and I had been beginning to think that took priority over family. I hope he would see reason but I can't not blame him if he doesn't. Breaking free from this castle is a dream not only held by me.But I can't imagine having to reason with someone who stole your future.
Downfall, failure and death cannot be far from any man who made counterfeit friends his ally and support.
The artist is often misunderstood because, stepping outside himself and holding most details in great tension, he's about as complex as a shape-shifter; or a head with faces on all sides, but not necessarily in the negative connotation as one being two-faced usually implies. For instance, to be misunderstood can mean to be improperly deemed a troublemaker when that is not one's true intent: you see, to troublemakers, the artist knows that the peacemaker may seem like a troublemaker; therefore he may, whether in honesty or in jest, at times, present himself as a troublemaker for perceptual, artistic flair. But then to the artless peacemakers, because of this they will interpret him as a troublemaker. This is why the artist has so few allies. To the troublemakers he's a troublemaker, yet still the peacemakers a troublemaker.
Mr. Cat and Mr. Dog were neighbors who fought like, well, cats and dogs. That is until Mr. Rat moved in. It's fascinating how easily two enemies ally at the introduction of a third.
Contrary to what you may think, when O’Sah told me about kytaen, that I’d be meeting one, I didn’t picture a pet or a lackey to follow me. I didn’t think of a prisoner. I… I pictured an ally, a friend, OK?
Woman lost (skin deep) like a damn fine thread in the fireWoman of the world caught up in your black machinationsI was a woman who cried alone at night, who gave it all away when she saw the good heart of the man insideWoman caught standing up; her open parts are broken -Someone's armour broke right through, it was you, youFor some reason I've been thinking about you, your lightToday, you poured out all the tension, the ego undergroundHibernating inside my heart. I was so close to it, to the flicker Of love in a lonely street and I turned my head and walkedAway from the flame in your arms. As I put away the fun inA house of fight I came across you and a mechanism inMy brain shifted chemically, walls caved in like the cadenceIn your words and I was lost in the darkness. Even now inMiddle age I remember when desire was a popular drugAnd everyone was selling it but I don't live to explore to beAble to illuminate the proof of my existence, live to burnVicariously though the diamond mouth of sleeping stars.From so much love, pictures of death arrived in black andWhite photographs and you're perfect, you always were -Illusions have no flaws; they're dangerous beings, smoke.Could I take the moon back and still live with my greatExpectations of nostalgia, laughter, tears and suffering -But they are all a part of me not the people of the stars,Long dead videotape, the past has stained the symphonyOf my soul (like the wind through the trees) throughoutMe finding myself, my two left feet as a female poetThe warning was there of the noise of eternity, signs That said, don't anger the sea, you have an ally in her.When men grow cold listen to their stories and bask inThe glory of their genuine deaths, their winters, putThem away so you can read them like the newspaper.Once in a while you can go back to where you stoodIn youth with your afternoon tea, the sun of God in ourEyes - I am that kind of woman who lives in the past
Woman lost (skin deep) like a damn fine thread in the fireWoman of the world caught up in your black machinationsI was a woman who cried alone at night, who gave it all away when she saw the good heart of the man insideWoman caught standing up; her open parts are broken -
I don't think you have ever really inhabited a city until you have walked down the street and seen every single person, no matter how unlikely or different from yourself, how disheveled or foreign, as a potential ally or recruit.