Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.
What if this was a sign? Maybe I__ not supposed to be an Outsider.He surprised her by taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers. __ou already are an Outsider. You fit everywhere. You just don__ see it yet.__he stared at their hands. He__ never done that before.Roar gave her a droll look. __t__ just odd having you lay your hand on my arm all the time,_ he said, responding to her thoughts.Yes, but this feels intimate. Don__ you think it does? I don__ mean that I think we__e being too intimate. I guess I do. Roar, sometimes it__ really hard to get used to this.Roar flashed a grin. __ria, this isn__ intimate. If I were being intimate with you, trust me, you__ know.__he rolled her eyes. Next time you say something like that, you should toss a red rose and then leave with a swish of your cape.
Through the Ever Night
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What if this was a sign? Maybe I__ not supposed to be an Outsider.He surprised her by taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers. __ou already are an Outsider. You fit everywhere. You just don__ see it yet.__he stared at their hands. He__ never done that before.Roar gave her a droll look. __t__ just odd having you lay your hand on my arm all the time,_ he said, responding to her thoughts.Yes, but this feels intimate. Don__ you think it does? I don__ mean that I think we__e being too intimate. I guess I do. Roar, sometimes it__ really hard to get used to this.Roar flashed a grin. __ria, this isn__ intimate. If I were being intimate with you, trust me, you__ know.__he rolled her eyes. Next time you say something like that, you should toss a red rose and then leave with a swish of your cape.
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When life is a horror....Don't look like a ghost!
Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.
Those who cannot conceive Friendship as a substantive love but only as a disguise or elaboration of Eros betray the fact that they have never had a Friend. The rest of us know that though we can have erotic love and friendship for the same person yet in some ways nothing is less like a Friendship than a love-affair. Lovers are always talking to one another about their love; Friends hardly ever about their Friendship. Lovers are normally face to face, absorbed in each other; Friends, side by side, absorbed in some common interest. Above all, Eros (while it lasts) is necessarily between two only. But two, far from being the necessary number for Friendship, is not even the best. And the reason for this is important.... In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets... Hence true Friendship is the least jealous of loves. Two friends delight to be joined by a third, and three by a fourth, if only the newcomer is qualified to become a real friend. They can then say, as the blessed souls say in Dante, 'Here comes one who will augment our loves.' For in this love 'to divide is not to take away.
Bill suited the action to the word, getting up and leaning over the handlebars and pumping the pedals at a lunatic rate. Looking at Bill's back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable...they would live forever and ever.
This isn__ how things were supposed to happen. I was supposed to be me. Not this.