it takes courage to b it takes timemoney fo it takes you on a rid it tastes rather good it to maturity it took a good it took a weekend it took the us it touches you wherer it turns out that nic it very great it was a time of love it was about the hurt it was down in san...
Whereas she had put the lump of coarse bread into the swart, scaled, knotted hands of John Baptist (who had scarcely as much nail on his eight fingers and two thumbs as would have made out one for Monsieur Rigaud) with ready confidence; and, when he kissed her hand, had herself passed...
healthy wasn't enough to pin you, the hands are adead giveaway." Derek held his own hand out and turned it over and backfor John, revealing dirt, cuts, broken nails and a callous on the tip of eachfinger, signs of a lifetime of living in the rough, fighting tooth and nail for...
I’ve noticed on this trip a certain myopia she has that in a way frightens me: she’ll ask where something is when it’s right in front of her, or continually have problems doing a simple thing like open a door, or something—and coming into the motel tonight (she was driving) she...
A universal redux version of my Meteor attempt at Words with Friends (online scrabble). - words-with-strangers-redux/input_words.txt at master · joshwcomeau/words-with-strangers-redux
So, as I was fixing the seat, the belt had got stuck, so the priest stepped back into the van to give me a hand. The older lady was standing near the open van door, whilst the other three had closed the boot and were waiting on the other side of the van. This sounds like it ...
“You get hit by a bus or something?” If you only knew. I imagined what she saw: Reddish brown hair in a frizzy, messy bun with twigs and leaves sticking out of it. A brown smudge on my freckled cafe au lait face that I hoped was mud and not any of the various animal and ...
' beside a trained'and equipped war-horse ready for To the Memory of my Husband this tale is dedicated.' I pleasant as the midday sun came softly in through sure not break your heart for any protty, gauzy, I pressed him to my heart; we had loved each battle. Joe's round, rus...
I was scared to walk in house five, the floors appeared to be just looking for the poor sucker that stepped on the wrong spot and tumbled to their death, or a broken leg, the house didn’t care, it just felt mean. However this ancient wine press was in the basement, and that was...
We've got what I call the Beatnik Problem. These art-literary types and their social consciousness-oriented, well, you know, have a lot of campuses stirred up. And we've got to put a lid on it. But these kids are very keen on martyrdom--a sort of Jesus complex, you might call ...