Discipline allows magic. To be a writer is to be the very best of assassins. You do not sit down and write every day to force the Muse to show up. You get into the habit of writing every day so that when she shows up, you have the maximum chance of catching her, bashing her on the head, and squeezing every last drop out of that bitch.
Intelligence is more important than strength, that is why earth is ruled by men and not by animals.
Little people make tall claims. As being this-that avatar or messiah. Some even say they're God. Well, if they are, I'm their grand-pop.
I'm joking when I say I'm the grand-pop of those claiming to be an avatar-messiah or god. But if they're serious, then, I am who I am.
GPS has saved countless relationships because us men do not like to ask for directions. Now if women could only come with relationship GPS we would be one step closer to world peace.
It's probably not easy for a woman to understand what it's like to be a man. Imagine you're starving, and someone puts a huge buffet in front of you. There's delicious, mouth-watering food all around you, and it's really really hard not to eat it all. That's what it's like to be a man around attractive women. The urge to want to hump everything that moves is part of a man's natural programming. It's a deep-seated hunger. To suppress that hunger takes civilization and a lot of willpower.
Do not believe in a god who is as silly, and meaner than you. For, that would surely be your higher-self, and your stupid alter-ego.
Politics to me was the whining of an old braggart too proud to admit his faults and too vain to try something new. All of their agendas and manifestos were nothing but a lucrative offer to deceive the fools and encourage the clever in deceiving more fools.
I discovered that politics is not entirely about agendas and manifestos of some old, sullen creep promising a better future of the country as a whole. Politics is being played everywhere and it starts from the very bedroom that you consider your safe haven.
Amren,” Rhys drawled, “sends her regards. And as for this one … ” I tried not to flinch away from meeting his stare. “She’s mine,” he said quietly, but viciously enough that Devlon and his warriors nearby heard. “And if any of you lay a hand on her, you lose that hand. And then you lose your head.” I tried not to shiver, as Cassian and Mor showed no reaction at all. “And once Feyre is done killing you,” Rhys smirked, “then I’ll grind your bones to dust.
The world’s most lethal venom is not found on the tongues of serpents, but on the tongues of a disgruntled wife.
An inch to a man’s heart is a mile to his wallet.
Get high on love, not drugs.
Be calm when your wife yells at you, calmer when she chastens you, but be terrified when she ignores you.
Your wife is smarter than you; know this, and you will live happily ever after.
Falling in love with someone is intentional, even if it was their looks that tripped you.
There is nothing wrong with being a puppet if love is the one pulling the strings.
The easiest way to remember your future wife’s birthday is to marry her on Super Bowl Sunday.
If men could be bought like clothes at an outlet, only then would women always get what they bargained for.
The only time I hold my wife's hand tightly is when my wallet is in her other hand.
Be calm on your wedding day; she won’t kill you in front of a hundred people, no matter what you've done.
Love is a hook; the moment a man swallows it, a woman knows she has him forever.
Women are the best thieves you will ever meet; they steal your heart and your last name, but never get to spend the night in jail.
A kiss is the only thing you can throw at someone without being held criminally responsible.
Men like to borrow kisses because they know they will have to pay them back.
Diamonds are a girl's best friend until love introduces her to her soulmate.
All I have is me, myself and I and we are all getting really tired of each other.
Wait, how do most people make friends? I've only done it once. There has to be an easier way of going abouit it than getting thrown around and bleeding all over the place. But both of us went through that. So maybe...Nosebleeds = Friendship Maybe friends are drawn to bloodsheed. You know. Like sharks.
Let me put it more artistically, with greater sophistication:They left us in the toilet. In the deepest pile of shit. And we're coated in the crappy residue of their desicions. But that does not mean we are the one who pooped, Moritz. And neither are we the poop.Never think that. We're not the poop.
Halt glared at his friend as the whistling continued.'I had hoped that your new sense of responsibly would put an end to that painful shrieking noise you make between your lips' he said.Crowley smiled. It was a beautiful day and he was feeling at peace with the world. And that meant he was more than ready to tease Halt 'It's a jaunty song''What's jaunty about it?' Halt asked, grim faced. Crowley made an uncertain gesture as he sought for an answer to that question.'I suppose it's the subject matter' he said eventually. 'It's a very cheerful song. Would you like me to sing it for you?''N-' Halt began but he was too late, as Crowley began to sing. He had a pleasant tenor voice, in fact, and his rendering of the song was quite good. But to Halt it was as attractive as a rusty barn door squeaking.'A blacksmith from Palladio, he met a lovely lady-o''Whoa! Whoa!' Halt said 'He met a lovely lady-o?' Halt repeated sarcastically 'What in the name of all that's holy is a lady-o?''It's a lady' Crowley told him patiently.'Then why not sing 'he met a lovely lady'?' Halt wanted to know.Crowley frowned as if the answer was blatantly obvious."Because he's from Palladio, as the song says. It's a city on the continent, in the southern part of Toscana.''And people there have lady-o's, instead of ladies?' Asked Halt'No. They have ladies, like everyone else. But 'lady' doesn't rhyme with Palladio, does it? I could hardly sing, 'A blacksmith from Palladio, he met his lovely lady', could I?''It would make more sense if you did' Halt insisted 'But it wouldn't rhyme' Crowley told him.'Would that be so bad?''Yes! A song has to rhyme or it isn't a proper song. It has to be lady-o. It's called poetic license.''It's poetic license to make up a word that doesn't exist and which, by the way, sound extremely silly?' Halt asked.Crowley shook his head 'No. It's poetic license to make sure that the two lines rhyme with each other'Halt thought for a few seconds, his eyes knitted close together. Then inspiration struck him.'Well then couldn't you sing 'A blacksmith from Palladio, he met a lovely lady, so...'?''So what?' Crowley challengedHalt made and uncertain gesture with his hands as he sought more inspiration. Then he replied. 'He met a lovely lady, so...he asked her for her hand and gave her a leg of lamb.''A leg of lamb? Why would she want a leg of lamb?' Crowley demanded Halt shrugged 'Maybe she was hungry
Men know that most women want to have an emotional connection with someone before they sleep with them. Men know that a lot of women think it's romantic to be friends first, and then the friendship blossoms into a relationship. Men know that they have to jump through all these hoops first, before they can get laid. And that's really all romance and courtship is to a man: hoops he has to jump through to get laid.
When guys try to get a good job and make a lot of money, it's so that they can find a good mate, because they know women like guys with money. Big tits are to men, what big wallets are to women. A sexy woman can have almost any man she wants. And a rich guy can have almost any woman he wants.
We like to romanticize the wild, raw, majestic beauty of nature. But when you take a closer look, nature is really just a giant fuckfest. That beautiful bird chirping? It's a mating call. That pretty little bird is trying to get laid. And why does the peacock have such beautiful feathers? To attract females. Because he's trying to get laid.
Religion is a totalitarian belief. It is the wish to be a slave. It is the desire that there be an unalterable, unchallengeable, tyrannical authority who can convict you of thought crime while you are asleep, who can subject you to total surveillance around the clock every waking and sleeping minute of your life, before you're born and, even worse and where the real fun begins, after you're dead. A celestial North Korea. Who wants this to be true? Who but a slave desires such a ghastly fate? I've been to North Korea. It has a dead man as its president, Kim Jong-Il is only head of the party and head of the army. He's not head of the state. That office belongs to his deceased father, Kim Il-Sung. It's a necrocracy, a thanatocracy. It's one short of a trinity I might add. The son is the reincarnation of the father. It is the most revolting and utter and absolute and heartless tyranny the human species has ever evolved. But at least you can fucking die and leave North Korea!
Only about 3 percent of animal species are monogamous. A couple of penguins, some otters and a few other oddball critters. To these select few it comes natural to mate for life and never look at another member of the opposite sex. Humans are not part of that little club. Like the other 97% of species, humans are not monogamous by nature. We just pretend that we are.
Look at the huge success of Fifty Shades of Grey. The girl in the book lets a rich guy beat her and ritually rape her, and she likes it! She finds it erotic! But imagine if Christian Grey wasn't a billionaire. Imagine if he lived in a dirty old trailer down by the river. Then that story wouldn't be a sexy romance novel, but an episode of CSI.
What’s not to love? I made friends with a pretty girl and now we get to plan a castle break in. This beats the day to day kill, eat and survive.
In spite of being complicated people choose superstitions over common sense.
An angry wife can be more frightening than an army of disgruntled soldiers.
The primary feature of women is not a 'beauty', it's a 'mystery'.
I don't understand this irony - valuable things like cars, gold, diamond are made up of hard materials but most valuable things like money, contracts and books are made up of soft paper.
Reading is the noblest of all the hobbies, that is why people mention it so frequently in their resume even if they don't read much.
Mike stood in-line, waiting for the mealtime muck that passed for lunch at his school canteen. He knew he was getting close to the front now, as he tightly held his tray. Not just because he could see this as you might expect, but because he could smell Margery the school cook’s body odour. The children at the front were already holding their breath. You could see a line of pink faces close to him, to red, then purple closest to Margery. Only when they left at the end did they breathe for air and turn back to their normal colour again, like a deep sea diver after a long plunge. “Margery the Meal Murderer” was her name for most school kids.
If you call yourself an "authoress" on your Facebook profile, you suck at life. You are stupid and your children are ugly. It doesn't matter if you're just trying to be cute and original. You're not. You are about as original as all those other witless twits "writing" the one millionth shitty Fifty Shades clone. Or maybe you're trying to show your 2000 fake Facebook "friends" that you are an empowered feminist who will not stand for sexist terminology. But you're not showing people that you are fighting the good fight, you're showing people that you are a sheep, who's trying just a little too hard to ride the current wave of idiotic political correctness. The word "author" is no more gender-discrimination than the word "person." Do you call yourself a personess? No, of course not, because then you might as well wear a sign around your neck that says, "Hello, I'm a retard.
So, am I too, like all other humans, just a rogue? Sure! Just a notch less than those rascals wearing godly robes.
There is no human-like god. If there were, he'd be as silly as you.
Hurry, your imaginary heaven is calling you up, my dear holier-than-thou religious nuts.
You will miss a normal life while living a successful life, but not as much as the craving for a successful life while you were living a normal life.
If you have money but not love you will somehow manage, but if you don't have both then you are in serious trouble.
Not obedience or feelings or respect, there is only one thing which people take seriously at all time and its "money".
Apart from the economic value, money does have high moral value.
I chase goals, not girls.
In the days before computers and emails,” she explained, “people used to write messages on paper and send them to each other using a fax machine. It’s sort of like sending a photograph through a telephone line. Hardly anyone uses a fax these days. They’re very old fashioned,” she continued, “but they used to be very popular once upon a time. Lots of little children used to send their letters to Santa that way.” "Wow!” said Poppy Noodle. “That sounds like Magic.” “No,” answered Flora sharply. “That’s not Magic, that’s technology. Never confuse the two.
You never know what you will find in your pants!
If Yo Mama and Yo Daddy got a divorce, they'd still be brother and sister.
Yo Mama's like mustard, she spreads easy.
Yo Mama sucks so much d***, her lips went double platinum.
What’s the difference between Yo Mama and a 747?-About 20 pounds.-Yo mama carries more passengers.-Not everyone's been on a 747.
Yo Mama's like a library, open to the public.
Yo Mama's so fat, her ass has its own congressman!
Yo Mama's so fat her butt cheeks have different area codes.
By doing ordinary actions efficiently you will become the best among ordinary, but you will not be an extraordinary.
You will have relatively less problems to solve, if you don't confuse problems with inconveniences.
I enjoy self-publishing & sending publishers rejection letters. They're like, 'Who is this guy?' And I'm like, 'the end of your industry.
My cousins had told me dead people came back as Dracula.Draculas got thirsty at night and drank only blood, leaving themilk and juices in the refrigerator for the house owners. I thoughtDraculas were cool, they had some manners. Still I didn’t like theidea of anyone drinking blood.
Kelsier rapped lightly on the door, and Dockson strolled over, pulling it open."And he makes his stunning entry!" Kelsier announced, sweeping into the room, throwing back his mistcloak.Dockson snorted, shutting the doors. "You're truly a wonder to behold, Kell. Particularly the soot stains on your knees.
I was my own boss, but that all changed the day I got married.
The fastest way to end an argument with your wife is to admit she’s right.
Am I suggesting that you must feel sorry for divorce lawyers and prepare to pay every penny of their fees? Of course not! You deserve justice, and the lawyer can be lured into delivering said justice at a seriously discounted price!
If God had a wife, He would be in trouble too if He dodged His chores.
It's like playing the lottery. It doesn't matter how extremely low the chances are of winning. You gotta be in it to win it. Hitting on every girl in sight is like buying a whole lot of lottery tickets. You never know, one day one of them might actually pay off.
The walking tour guides one through the city's various landmarks, reciting bits of information the listener might find enlightening. I learned, for example, that in the late 1500s my little neighborhood square was a popular spot for burning people alive. Now lined with a row of small shops, the tradition continues, though in a figurative rather than literal sense.
OTHER lives may find their happiest moments infiltrated with tragedy, and their proudest touched with comedy. This had almost invariably been true of mine. My proudest hour found me, the newly elected president of the United Nations, perched atop three thick New York City telephone books given me in lieu of a cushion that I might see and be seen by the delegates below the podium.
I'm transferring Ian down to New Orleans to assist with this,” Arch said as he looked at both men. “I would send Shayne, but Anna won't let him go anywhere without her. They're still in the honeymoon phase.” He made a quote motion with his fingers. Peter and Vincent exchanged horrified looks, before Peter responded. “Please, don't put us through that torture.
A mother’s eyes are like God; impossible to get away from, they see everything.
Ask your wife for forgiveness, even when you’re right.
You have heard about the reindeer that pull old Santa's sled. But mostly I hate Rudolph and wish that he were dead. With his nose of red which we all know just can't be true. I wish someone would just kill him, that someone could be you. He is Santa's favorite and to the front he can be found. Instead of his red nose, "I" think it should be brown. He believes that Santa likes him and thinks that he's a winner. But Santa Claus has other plans he wants Rudolph for his dinner. Old Saint Nick is greedy this I know without a doubt. What else do you think happens to all the great toys we go without?He takes them and he breaks them be cause he doesn't care a bit. To me it doesn't matter, Why, he can keep his "Schict".Yes' it's true that I hate Santa too, dressed in his suit of silk. That's why this year with the homemade cookies, I'm going to leave some poison milk.
She was called a cook, but there was no real evidence she had even a small amount of ability to do this. Every meal, no matter how much you thought you liked it before, would be ruined forever after having one of Margery’s slop versions of it. Burger and Chips or Lasagne, as Mike liked, were gruesomely murdered by the time Margery had used the ingredients (and added some special ones of her own!) to deliver a pile of gruel. It did not matter what the menu said; when served, it was always green, even if none of the ingredients were actually green!“Nexxxttt! Hey, you, I said NEXXTT!!!” she shouted at the violet boy who had hesitated to wonder if life was really worth this. “What’s your name, boy? Speak up now and tell me which class you are in?” This was a usual evil method Margery used so children had to give up holding their breath and smell the putrid stench of her sweaty BO mixed with the green muck she scooped from a giant vat beside her. The poor boy nearly passed out when it hit him, but, fortunately, his friend helped him stay up. He quickly grabbed his tray and sloshed his green slush all over as he ran for freedom. NNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXXXXXXXXXXXTTTTTTT!!!
You can't write an honest novel about race in this country. If you write about how people are really affected by race, it'll be too obvious. Black writers who do literary fiction in this country, all three of them, not the ten thousand who write those bullshit ghetto books with the bright covers, have two choices: they can do precious or they can do pretentious. When you do neither, nobody knows what to do with you. So if you're going to write about race, you have to make sure it's so lyrical and subtle that the reader who doesn't read between the lines won't even know it's about race. You know, a Proustian meditation, all watery and fuzzy, that at the end just leaves you feeling watery and fuzzy.""Or just find a white writer. White writers can be blunt about race and get all activist because their anger isn't threatening.
Your insult has offended me. If we were at the Peaks, we would have to duel in traditional alil'tiki'i fashion.""Which is what?" Teft asked. "With spears?"Rock laughed. "No, no. We upon the Peaks are not barbarians like you down here.""How then?" Kaladin asked, genuinely curious."Well," Rock said, "is involving much mudbeer and singing."“How's that a duel?”"He who can still sing after the most drinks is winner. Plus, soon' everyone is so drunk that they forget what argument was about."Teft laughed. "Beats knives at dawn, I suppose.
Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?
Around about now, young John Owen comes out of the shack lugging my old musket from the War. At six years of age, our youngest boy already knew his business. Not a word, just brings the shooting iron somewhat closer so's he don't waste powder, then hoists her up, set to haul back on the trigger. I believe his plan was to shoot this feller, get the story later.
I fear it is the end for us,’ wailed Marx as the bears inched closer. ‘Is this the way you saw yourself going. Pirate Captain:‘In fact,’ said the Captain grumpily, ‘it’s pretty much the exact situation I usually try to cheer myself up with when I’m in a bit of a fix. “At least you’re not about to be eaten by bears and/or fall into a replica volcano,” I tell myself. So now I’ve got to come up with an even worse scenario, which is a nuisance.
In his time the Pirate Captain had made a number of dramatic entrances of his own – not always intentional it had to be said, as quite often they were the result of him accidentally setting himself on fire – but even he had to admit that Cutlass Liz’s dramatic entrance set an extremely high dramatic-entrance standard.
Everybody clapped enthusiastically and Dr. Marx popped up from behind the podium, where he had been hiding all along. He was the hairiest man the pirates had ever seen. Several of the crew were actually worried for a moment that the Seaweed That Walked Like a Man had returned from one of their previous adventures to ambush them. His nose was hairy. His forehead was hairy. Even his hands were hairy. And his beard was a great bushy black number, which looked like he had sellotaped a bunch of cats to the bottom of his face and then frightened them with a loud noise.
This is an awesome(probably not very famous) one liner in hindi on engineers. I could not stop myself: Aamir Sarfraz (aamir rajput khan)"Chaar saal lagte hai insaan ko engineer banne mein phir chahe wo puri zindgi laga rahe dubara insaan nahi ban sakta"Translation in English:"It takes four years for a uman to become engineer after that even if he tries for whole life he can't become human again
Don't ask for a girl's hand in marriage and forget to ask for her leg too.
If God had a wife He would be in just as much trouble as any man.
Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” I started back down the alley. “Truthfully, it’s not you I’m so much worried about as your ass. It’s like the Eighth Wonder of the World or something. Be a shame to deprive future generations of Dreamers, don’t you think?” My stomach rumbled. “Come on, I’m starving.” A snort escaped him. “Nice to know you care.” I patted my belly and shrugged. “Yeah, well. A girl’s gotta have priorities.
Jay bent over the table, and the muscles in his arm stood proud as he drew the cue back. In one swift motion, he sent it cracking into the white, the other balls soon spinning across the green felt.“Your turn,” he handed her the cue, eyes glinting wickedly. “Need me to look after your end? Of the pool cue, I mean.” “I'm quite capable of looking after my own end, thanks,” Kayla replied archly, and quickly ran the chalk over her cue. “I know the importance of taking care of the tip.
You just know this is going to be bad," Susan said."—but when I went to college," Harry continued, throwing a piece of bread at Susan, "if your roommate died, you were usually allowed to skip your finals for that semester. You know, because of the trauma.""And oddly enough, your roommate got to skip them, too," Susan said. "For much the same reason.
The obvious thing to say of his appearance was that he would have been extremely handsome if he had not been entirely bald. But, indeed, that would itself be a rather bald way of putting it. Fantastic as it sounds, it would fit the case better to say that people would have been surprised to see hair growing on him; as surprised as if they had found hair growing on the bust of a Roman emperor.
Then you're seventy-five, friends are dead, and you've replaced at least one major organ: you have to pee four times a night, and you can't go up a flight a stairs without being little winded -- and your're told you're in pretty good shape for your age. [....], in a decade you'll be eighty-five, and the only difference between you and a raisin will be that while you're both wrinkled and without a prostate, the raisin never had a prostate to begin with.
I'm having a stress flashback." Davy bonked his head on the table. "My brother has decided to break into the house of the richest guy in the county and seduce his sexpot daughter, under his nose.""I'm not going to seduce her," Sean said crabbily. "I'd go through the front door and talk to her right in front of her mother if I could, but those people think I'm festering sewage sludge.""No. They think you're dangerous, mentally unhinged festering sewage sludge," Davy corrected.
It's funny how a hello is always accompanied with a goodbye. It's funny how good memories can make you cry, it's funny how forever never seems to last, it's funny how much you would lose if you forgot about your past, it's funny how friends can just leave when you're down, it's funny how when you need someone they never are around, it's funny how people change and think they're so much better, it's funny how some many lies are packed into one love letter, it's funny how one night can hold so much regret, it's funny how you can forgive but not forget, it's funny how ironic life turns out to be, but the funniest part of all, is that none of that is funny to me.
What's the deal with this Malachai?" Xevikan"I don't know. I just joined him myself. But he seems level. Decent even." Zavid"He's with a half-daeve turncoat, a Charonte, and an Aamon, and you don't find that off?" Xevikan"Wait until you meet his Arel girlfriend, lunatic mother, and the two human homicidal maniac he calls family. Buddy, everything about the Malachai ain't right." Zavid
Stay in the car Nick""okay."Ash gets out abd goes to look at the dead body."For an immortal being with 11,000 years under his belt Ash sure is stupid." Nick gets out and sees the blood."That's a lot of blood." Nick's book starts sending him an alert. "What Lassie? You going to tell Timmy about the well?" pulls out book, and opens it. words start to appear.LOOK AND YOUWILL SEE THATWHICH WAS CANNEVER BE.WHEN THEYSEEK A BOYYOUR AGE...... RUN, YOUFLIPPINMORON, RUN!"I'm not gonna argue with my book on that. The safest place is with Ash.
An idea hit me so fast I didn't pause to analyse it. I just acted. My body might be constrained, but my head and neck had just enough freedom to shift up-and kiss him.My lips met his, and I learned a few things. One was that it was possible to catch him totally by surprise. His body froze and locked up, shocked at the sudden turn of events. I also realized that he was just as good a kisser as I recalled. The last time we'd kissed had been when he was a Strigoi. There had been an eerie sexiness to that, but it didn't compare to the heat and energy of being alive. His lips were just like a remembered from out time at St. Vladimir's, both soft and hungry at the same time. Electricity spread through the rest of my body as he kissed me back. It was both comforting and exhilarating.And that was was the third thing I discovered. He was kissing me back. Maybe, just maybe, Dimitri wasn't as resolved as he claimed to be. Maybe under all that guilt and certainty that he couldn't love again, he still wanted me. I would have liked to have found out. But I didn't have the time.Instead, I punched him.
Care to explain?” Ari asked.“Didn’t you see my signals?”“Yeah. But they didn’t make sense. Five into one and it’s an intrusion.”“It’s an illusion! Five of them are an illusion.”“That’s not the signal for illusion. This is.” Ari demonstrated the proper signal.“That’s what I did.”“No, you didn’t. You did a weird twisty thing with your pinky.”“I had a scimitar at my throat. I’d like to see you try signaling under those conditions.”-Janco and Ari bickering
Bucket had started his criminal career in Braas, not far from when Allan and his new friends now found themselves. There he had gotten together with some like-minded peers and started the motorcycle club called The Violence. Bucket was the leader; he decided which newsstand was to be robbed of cigarettes next. He was the one who has chosen the name- The Violence, in English, not swedish. And he was the one who unfortunately asked his girlfriend Isabella to sew the name of the motorcycle club onto ten newly stolen leather jackets. Isabella had never really learned to spell properly at school, not in Swedish, and certainly not in English.The result was that Isabella sewed The Violins on the jackets instead. As the rest of the club members had had similar academic success, nobody in the group noticed the mistake. So everyone was very surprised when one day a letter arrived for The Violins in Braas from the people in charge of the concert hall in Vaxjo. The letter suggested that, since the club obviously concerned itself with classical music, they might like to put in am appearance at a concert with the city’s prestigious chamber orchestra, Musica Viate.Bucket felt provoked; somebody was clearly making fun of him. One night he skipped the newsstand, and instead went into Vaxjo to throw a brick through the glass door of the concert hall. This was intended to teach the people responsible lesson in respect. It all went well, except that Bucket’s leather glove happened to follow the stone into the lobby. Since the alarm went off immediately, Bucket felt it would be unwise to try to retrieve the personal item in question.Losing the glove was not good. Bucket had traveled to Vaxjo by motorbike and one hand was extremely cold all the way home to Braas that night. Even worse was the fact that Bucket’s luckless girlfriend had written Bucket’s name and adress inside the glove, in case he lost it."For more quotes from the novel visit my blog: frommybooks.wordpress.com
Am I picking you up tonight?” he asked. “Or do you still think I'm an ax murderer who might break into your house and off you and your family?”“Pretty sure you'd go all parkour on us. Instead of using an ax.”“Parkour? You think I'd use your family as an obstacle course?”“What?” I asked.He smothered a laugh. “Parkour is non-contact.”I felt my face redden. How was I supposed to know all that guy crap?
One quick glance around the room and I realise that I have somehow stumbled into a wannabe serial killer convention. Every single person in the room looks as if they are concealing a weapon of some sort. My heart thuds rapidly in my chest as I sneak past an elderly man who grins lecherously at me, flashing his gold tooth. Oh dear God, I’m going to die!First, I get dumped – on my birthday no less – and now I’m going to get knifed in some seedy bar!
I said. “I’m fine. I have a little bit of a head ache, but I’m not dizzy or nauseous. I can walk and talk just fine, and I can remember everything.” “Everything, huh? Don’t self-diagnose, Doctor Fisher. Do you remember when the Battle of Bunker Hill was fought?” “The what?” “The Battle of Bunker Hill. We covered it in World Civ.” “No, we did not.” “We did, too. The unit on the American Revolution.” “Davin, that was like, two years ago! I don’t remember stuff like that!” “So, not everything.” “Everything important.” “That happens to have been a very significant battle,” Davin reminded me, in a smug tone.
How can you stand touching her?” my sister blurted, staring at our clasped hands. “Doesn’t that hurt?”I seized on the change of topic. “These gloves are specialized rubber. They block the current.”Gretchen’s gaze traveled over Vlad, disbelief still stamped on her features. “Yeah, but how do you two do anything else, unless he has a special, currentrepellingglove for his—”“Gretchen!” my father cut her off.My cheeks felt hot. Don’t say a word, I thought to Vlad, seeing his chest tremble with suppressed laughter.“He has a natural immunity,” I gritted out.
You've always been there for me. Always. Even when I…" V"Even when you what?" B"You know." V"What?" B"Fuck. Even when I was in love with you. Or some shit." VButch clasped his hands to his chest. "Was? Was? I can't believe you've lost interest." He threw one arm over his eyes, all Sarah Bernhardt. "My dreams of our future are shattered—" B"Shut it, cop." VButch looked out from under his arm. "Are you kidding me? The reality show I had planned was fantastic. Was going to pitch it to VH1. Two Bites Are Better Than One. We were going to make millions ." B"Oh, for the love.
Turner let his face fell into his hands. "I'm never going to touch her again", he moaned. "He's never going to touch me again!" they heard Miranda roar."Well,it doesn't look like you'll have much argument from your wife on that point", Olivia chirped.
I've got everything ready to go," I said once he was finally awake and dressed.All the tenderness and vulnerability was gone from his face when he said, "Go where?""America?"His eyes narrowed. "This is America.""This is Canada.""Which is in North America."Silly Canadians wanting be part of the Cool Kids Club.
You sure are a sweet girl, Scout. I'm half tempted to keep you.""Ummm... Thanks?" Knowing she was a potential Alpha I worried about what "keeping me" might entail. Probably chains. And whips. And maybe a dog collar.And now I was going to have to live with scary Fifty Shades Aunt Rachel pictures living in my head for all time.
When approaching a prospective human, first ask them what their name is. * If it replies "Brains," blow its fucking head off. * If it replies "Brian," ask it again, as you may have encountered a zombie with a speech impediment, or a zombie that was mildly retarded in life. * Keep in mind that it is entirely possible that you did encounter a human named "Brian.
It’s not really my fault. The problem is that my mouth just comes out with these things. And you can’t blame me for what my mouth does, can you? Curse this mouth. Do you think it might be possessed?'The Pirate Captain looked in the mirror and made his mouth into a series of shapes he thought looked demonic.
The Captain was wearing his best blousey shirt, his beard was gleaming in the early morning light and he’d polished all his gold teeth. As he strode manfully towards the shore, the only thing that could have make him look even more heroic that he already did would have been the theme to Flash Gordon playing in the background, but it was a hundred and seventy years too early for that.
Is this about what happened to you and the old Sector 7?” I asked with a growl of my own.His hands tightened their grip on my shoulders. “How did you know about that?” “Tabby-Chan told me.”“Freaking Meko-Chan,” Kuroi uttered, “I swear, that kid is gonna get it. What did she tell you, exactly?”“She told me not to tell you that she told me what you told her.” I realized what I said. “Oops.” ~Luna's POV, Clash of the Clans: Shinobi 7 Companion Book #1
I prodded him in the chest with a finger and said, “Look here, smart mouth, I’m getting pretty sick of you already. If you know what’s best for you, keep your trap shut and do as I tell you. I still haven’t forgotten how you pushed my friend into that corpse. So unless you want to end up like that body in the underpass, do yourself a favour and keep out of my face, okay?”“Whatever you say, boss. You’re the boss, boss,” Drake said.“See, there you go again!” I snapped at him.“I’m not sure I know what you mean, boss,” Drake said.“You even say boss like a wise arse,” I shot back at him.“I don’t know what you mean b-” Drake started again.“Did I say you had to call me boss?”“It’s just that I thought…”“Don’t think!” I barked. “Just do as I say and we’ll get along just fine.”“Whatever you say,” Drake said.I glanced at Madison and she was smiling. “What’s so funny?” I asked.“Nothing,” she smiled back.“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realise that I was some sort of freaking comedian. Let’s see ifyou think it’s so funny when another one of those dead kids shows up. Jesus, no wonder you amateurs haven’t caught this piece of scum yet – you’re probably all too busy sitting round cracking jokes andtaking the piss to do any real police work.”“You are funny though,” she half-laughed. “It’s just that when you get angry, your jaw goes alltense and your nostrils flare out at the sides.”“Oh yeah, how very amusing,” I remarked. “I think you two clowns are funny – not ha-ha funny– but fucked-in-the-head funny! Now, if you two have quite finished doing your Laurel and Hardy impersonations, we’ve got a killer to catch!
Jake eyed his brother. "I never forget. All data is stored in my memory banks. And one day, candy pig, you will pay.""You 're such a geek.""Thesbo.""That's Jack's latest insult."Seth gestured with his wine-glass. "A play on thespian, since Kev's into that.""Rhymes with lesbo," Jake explained helpfully while Anna stifled a groan. "It's a slick way of calling him a girl.
She stared into his eyes and announced, “A good-bye kiss.”It was at that Raid stopped dead. “What?”“Raiden, the gig is up,” she declared, and Raid closed his eyes.Jesus, how could the woman be so infuriating and so fucking cute all at once?He opened his eyes and asked, “The gig is up?”She leaned into him and hissed, “Yes.”Fuck, he wanted to kiss her.He also wanted to shak