novel

This was a great idea; he needed to go into tonight knowing that this was the last time he would ever be with Barry. He needed to savour it and enjoy it, to lock it tight in his memories, so that he would never forget how it felt to be with him.This would be his final goodbye.~ A Case of the Ex

He was getting undressed and it snapped something inside of him that had been drawing taut, ready to break for months.__'m hungry, Bruno,_ he said, in a soft voice, as he removed the shirt from his broad shoulders, revealing a perfect sight of smooth dark skin. __ can't wait for dinner,_ he continued, with a smile.When he put his hands to the fastening of his trousers, Bruno let out a sigh and put the take out menus on the counter. He couldn't look at him, because he knew Lyon was trying to seduce him on purpose. He didn't want to talk or hear him out or spend time with him that didn't end with an orgasm.__ can't do this anymore,_ Bruno confessed, quietly.

Chocolate makes everything better, in the end,_ he announced, and Thayer fully agreed.Thayer gave him a smile of gratitude and watched Castel lift his spoon from the saucer. He dipped it, gracefully, into his coffee and gave it a light stir.__oo many people rush to stir such delicate flavours. Take too long and they will clog together to become a lump of bitterness in your coffee. But take your time and be gentle with them,_ Castel explained, quietly, __nd they will create a symphony of flavours, to melt in your mouth,_ he said, leaning down, just until his nose was over his cup, to take a long inhale. He smiled and straightened, extracting the spoon to place it back on his saucer. __ow try it.__hayer took a sip and almost felt his toes curl at the luxurious taste.~ Cinnamon Kiss

Jaxton smiled and caught his hand, holding it tight in both of his. __re you burnt out? Is it all too much?_ he asked, getting straight to the root of the matter, in one go.__es,_ he sighed, hating that it was true.__hen you'll stay home.___ou know I can't. It's impossible,_ Roman complained about the unfairness of it all.He was due to return to the studio in two days times, to finalise the tracks he'd recorded yesterday. Then he had to sit down with Jalen next week, to pick out a new piece of his artwork for the next album cover. And two weeks after that, he had three interviews with three different music channels, to film.__ry telling that to Ben._ Jaxton winked at him, then ducked down to kiss him.~ From the Heart

Get your sticky fingers away from my cookies,_ Ben ordered, without turning his head, to see Jaxton trying to steal one from the cooking tray.__ou weren't saying that last night,_ Jaxton retaliated, coming up to Ben's side, to give him a nudge. They were both smiling, while looking down at the counter, where Ben was making his delicious rosemary cookies. __n fact, I seem to remember you grabbing my sticky fingers and putting them in your mouth,_ he teased, speaking quietly, so that Lyon wouldn't hear them at the other side of the room.Ben turned to Jaxton and abandoned his baking, to catch his face in flour covered hands and plant a deep kiss on his lips.Jaxton opened his mouth, in acceptance of his kiss.~ From the Heart

Do we really mean it when we say __n sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do us part or do we add a silent clause, __nless you shame me or disappoint me?_ What is the cost of unconditional love and how capable are we of giving that?

He faced Doug. His eyes were wet. "I am not one of your tricks, Douglas.""Of course, you're not.""That's what I feel like tonight, seeing you in there with all those bodies. One of a thousand nights. One of a thousand fucks. And fuck you for making me feel this way. And fuck you again for making me say fuck in this beautiful place.

My head__l explode if I continue with this escapism.

We__e both in a rut. And when two people have the different open wounds, they can relate and try to heal each other. Maybe it__l be the same for Kayla and me. It__l be a long a run, but we might as well try.

How would I explain to him that I couldn__ make peace with him? How would I explain that if I did I would immediately lose my inner balance? How would I explain that one of the arms of my internal scales would suddenly shoot upward? How would I explain that my hatred of him counterbalanced the weight of evil that had fallen on my youth? How would I explain that he embodied all the evils in my life? How would I explain to him that I needed to hate him?

There are times when the unseen can be even more dangerous than what our eyes behold.

It is only a woman who can make a man feel like a 'superhero' or 'inadequate'.Its her attention and admiration that a man desperately seeks!

Fall into the cavern of my mind, and together there, we will dine.

Pull back the curtain and jump down the rabbit hole.

Their message will never be decoded_ because people have no patience to listen to it in an age when the accumulation of messages old and new is such that their voices cancel one another out. Today history is no more than a thin thread of the remembered stretching over an ocean of the forgotten, but time moves on, and an epoch of millennia will come which the inextensible memory of the individual will be unable to encompass; whole centuries and millennia will therefore fall away, centuries of painting and music, centuries of discoveries, of battles, of books, and this will be dire, because man will lose the notion of his self, and his history, unfathomable, unencompassable, will shrivel into a few schematic signs destitute of all sense.

Their message will never be decoded, not only because there is no key to it, but also because people have no patience to listen to it in an age when the accumulation of messages old and new is such that their voices cancel one another out. Today history is no more than a thin thread of the remembered stretching over an ocean of the forgotten, but time moves on, and an epoch of millennia will come which the inextensible memory of the individual will be unable to encompass; whole centuries and millennia will therefore fall away, centuries of painting and music, centuries of discoveries, of battles, of books, and this will be dire, because man will lose the notion of his self, and his history, unfathomable, unencompassable, will shrivel into a few schematic signs destitute of all sense.

In inventing [General Juan Manuel de] Rosas_ self-justification, I have taken the liberty of drawing almost exclusively on the words of Tony Blair, and the various self-justifications he produced to defend his foreign policy adventures with George Bush in the Middle East and the Central Asia.

If writers only dared to dare, a Suetonius or a Tacitus of the Novel could exist, for the Novel is essentially the history of manners, turned into a story and a play, as is History itself often enough. And there is no other difference than this: that the one, the Novel, cloaks its manners under the disguise of invented characters, while the other, History, provides names and addresses. Only, the Novel probes much deeper than history. It has an ideal, and History has none; it is limited by reality. The Novel also holds the stage much longer. ("A Woman's Vengeance")