Listen. Jennifer reverted, I didn't mean anything by all of that before. I understand what you were trying to do and ... She struggled for the right words. Sweetie, like love, people don't live inside of life, life lives inside of you. Open yourself up to it and there's no stopping your heart.
Mary approaches her before she is able to reach her station. Hello Lily. Get anything special for Christmas?Just the usual. She answers. Shattered dreams.
Lily looks back down at the necklace in her hand that Kavita had given her. It must have cost a fortune.It did. He confirms. Though not nearly as much as you're worth.Lily looks up at him. Don't say that. You hurt me everytime you speak.
The white lily stands for purity. Artists for centuries have pictured the angel Gabriel coming to the virgin Mary with a spray of lillies in his hand, to announce that she is to be the mother of the Turks.
Gloria watched the swollen white orb of a hot-air balloon rising over Navy Pier and knew she had to break it off with Oliver, for he was the type who would never enjoy hot-air balloons, Van Morrison songs, or mess, whether from orgasm or otherwise. But who was she to be dreaming about mess today?
Aku mencintainya tanpa diketahui.Aku mencintainya dalam diam.Aku mencintainya dalam satu sudut pandang.Aku mencintainya di satu sisi.Ya, aku percaya.Jika takdirku adalah dirimu,kau akan memilihku. Nanti.
Entah mengapa, mendadak dia merasa bahwa berkenalan dengan si pemilik nama itu sepertinya akan menyenangkan.
....but talking to a ghost about a demon when you’re in a room full of people who can’t see either of them is not to be recommended.
No book can be written till it wants to be written, till it shouts to be written, and raises up a persistent din in the writer's head. And then, if you want peace, you just have to pull it out and freeze it in print. Nothing less would do.
Baggage? Who are you talking to? I am the Maharajah of baggage. I could fly to the moon and back and never have to do laundry.
I take my food very seriously. Whenever I hear that bell, I know Mrs. Norris is hankerin' for some spam.
Believe in YourselfWhy must we see something to believe in its existence?The wind itself cannot be seen by man, but all have felt it's gentle touch and watched the mighty trees bow as it swept past.We cannot see love yet its nurturing warmth is the essence of our being and sorrow can touch our very soul. For remorse is like a ripple on the ocean, once given it remains only in the heart of the receiver.Yet all of these cannot be seen only felt. Why then do you doubt your self-worth? For though it cannot cast a reflection in the mirror you have only to look in the eyes of those you love toSee it clearly.Prologue To Kiss a KingTo Kiss a King Copyright © 2017 by Julie Brookshier and Robin WoodsAll rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in whole or in part in any form is forbidden without written permission of one or more of the authors.This is a fictional work. Names, characters, places, and events are merely the product of the authors' imaginations or used fictitiously, purely for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead or any business establishments, events or places past, present, or future, is entirely coincidental.
We share a bond. We do everything together. We have a piece of strong, invisible thread connecting us. It’s indestructible – it can never be broken. The thread is the key item that links us together. We understand each other.
Some truths are hard to swallow, so we share it within tales that most people will accept without being frightened by the truth hidden within.
I remember my father, who had served in Vietnam, once talking to me about how real courage is when you're scared out of your mind but you do what you have to do anyway. I didn't feel very courageous at the moment. I felt like a small mouse in the mouth of a lion.
We lied to ourselves thinking in our minds we knew everything. We were deceived in believing that youthful enthusiasm could replace wizened maturity.
I feel as if I've gone past the lukewarm stage that Jesus talked about in the book of Revelations and am slowly dwindling on cold. Deep down I want to change, but I don't know how. I'm the pastor. I'm supposed to know how. I hide my frustration with an obsession for Ohio State football and hours at the I Sold It on eBay internet cafe around the corner from the church.
The couch and I were what I would describe as frenemies. I loved to hate it. It was too small for my frame. I had tried to tell my wife that fact when we bought it off of Craigslist, but she assured me that it went perfectly with our room decor and it was a good deal.
They weren't people that liked change. They were the kind of people that would have tied change to a chair with dental floss if they could in order to avoid it. They were the type of people who desired to live in their virtual bubbles and grew to resent anyone that challenged that world.
I looked up at the wall. My bachelor's degree had been in History. Films like Back to the Future and Quantum Leap had been some of my favorite programs. Could time travel really be possible? This seemed too unreal.
I could smell death in the air and I knew it was mine. I could see the world spinning around me and I could sense the blows being thrust into my body. I blacked out.
As far as not seeing your fruit is concerned, you know many people have this idea that things need to happen when you think they should and if they don't you get this idea that God isn't in it. The fruit you've seen isn't bad fruit. It's just green. It's not ready. I've heard you humans complain time and time again about God telling you to do something and then the frustration begins to set in. You are so busy checking your fruit every two days that you don't realize it's just not ripe yet.
Your passion dwindling out isn't Father's fault either. You can't blame that on Him. He has you in Merchant for a reason. You may not see it yet. But there is purpose. Father always has a purpose.
There is power in controlling something that can do so much damage-in controlling something, period.
Please don’t be upset. The last thing in the world I want is to see you upset and that too with me. It’s terrifying to see your beautiful eyes turn red with anger.
The one thing is fiction in a novel and the other thing is reality. With fiction you don't make a fuss - you can 'beat it' and there's never enough. At least in my opinion - cause there are people, who complain about style intensity in literature: they prefer cereals with milk than abyssinian bitches roasted alive on bringhausers and watered with ya-yoo juice.