Just once, she'd like to be the exciting one, the girl somebody wanted.
Libba BrayStichwörter: change excitement libba-bray
People always fear what they don't understand, Evangeline. History proves that.
Libba BrayStichwörter: fear history libba-bray the-diviners
I feel a tug in the air. The magic. When I look over, Felicity has her eyes closed in concentration, and a faint smile curves those full lips. Suddenly, Lady Denby breaks wind with an enormous crackling sound. There is no hiding the shock and horror on her face as she realizes what she's done. She breaks wind again, and several women clear their throats and look away as if they can pretend no to notice the offense.
Libba BrayStichwörter: farts-gas
What if I choose the dream instead?
Libba BrayStichwörter: pippa agatb pippa-cross
You're quite tall.' Just what a girl wants to be reminded of.
Libba BrayStichwörter: me relatable tall
And now if you'll excuse me, I should like to finish my book, alone, without the presence of a single ringleted girl to disrupt me. If you should come for me at dinner and find me in my chair, gone to the angels at last, you shall know that I died alone, which is to say in a state of utter bliss.
Libba BrayStichwörter: books reading-books
Why does anyone do anything? Belief. A belief that they are right and just in their actions. Abraham was willing to sacrifice his son, Isaac, because he believed that God had commanded it. To kill your son is unthinkable. A crime. But if you are acting in the belief that your God, your supreme deity whom you must obey, has demanded it of you, is it still a crime?
Libba BrayAnd please, stay away from those books you devour. They are putting the most fantastical tales into your head.
Libba BrayStichwörter: reading-books
The police have asked for my help. There's been a murder."
"A murder! Oh, my. Let me just change my shoes," Evie said excitedly. "It won't be a minute.
Stichwörter: murder shoes evie
What about you and me, Adina?” Duff said, sidling up to her by the railing. “I know I screwed up. But do you think we could start over?”
Adina thought about everything that had happened. Part of her wanted to kiss Duff McAvoy, the tortured British trust-fund-runaway-turned-pirate-of-necessity who loved rock ‘n’ roll and mouthy-but-vulnerable bass-playing girls from New Hampshire. But he didn’t exist. Not really. He was a creature of TV and her imagination, a guy she’d invented as much as he’d invented himself. And this was what she suddenly understood about her mother: how with each man, each husband, she was really trying to fill in the sketchy parts of herself and become somebody she could finally love. It was hard to live in the messiness and easier to believe in the dream. And in that moment, Adina knew she was not her mother after all. She would make mistakes, but they wouldn’t be the same mistakes. Starting now.
“Sorry,” she said, heading for the bow, where a spot of sun looked inviting. ”Oh, also, about that blog? Just so you know, my dads know a lot of gay lawyers. Bitches will take your ass down if you try to publish that. Peace out.
Stichwörter: love self feminism
« erste vorherige
Seite 56 von 63.
nächste letzte »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.