I define nothing. Not beauty, not patriotism. I take each thing as it is, without prior rules about what it should be.
Bob DylanTags: life acceptance dylan bob define
Bob, would you be willing to take on Evil Bob?"
Bob's eyes darted nervously. "I'd . . . prefer not to. I'd really, really prefer not to. You have no idea. That me was crazy. And buff. He worked out.
You're supposed to be a spirit of intellect. I don't understand why you're obsessed with sex."
Bob's voice got defensive. "It's an academic interest, Harry."
"Oh yeah? Well maybe I don't think it's fair to let your academia go peeping in other people's houses."
"Wait a minute. My academia doesn't just peep -"
I held up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to hear it."
He grunted. "You're trivializing what getting out for a bit means to me, Harry. You're insulting my masculinity."
"Bob," I said, "you're a skull . You don't have any masculinity to insult."
"Oh yeah?" Bob challenged me. "Pot kettle black, Harry! Have you gotten a date yet? Huh? Most men have something better to do in the middle of the night than play with their chemistry sets.
Indeed, Xcor stayed away for the wrong reason, the bad reason, an unacceptable reason—in spite of all his training, he found himself choosing Throe’s life over ambition: His anger had taken him in one direction, but his regret had led him in another. And the latter one was what won out.
J.R. WardHe also said that I would never get an apology out of you.” There was a long pause. “I want one. Now.”
Xcor put aside his soup and found himself searching the wounds he had given himself, recalling all that pain, all that blood—which had dried brown on the floorboards beneath him.
“And then what,” he said in a rough voice.
“You’ll have to find out.”
Fair enough, Xcor thought.
Without grace—not that he had any, anyway—he rose to his feet. At his full height, he was unsteady for too many reasons to count, and the off-balance feeling got even worse as he met the eyes of his… friend.
Looking Throe in the face, he stepped up and put out his palm. “I am sorry.”
Three simple words spoken loud and clear. And they didn’t go nearly far enough.
“I was wrong to treat you as I did. I am… not as much of the Bloodletter as I thought—as I have e’er wanted to be.
I am your friend Bob!
Rick RiordanTags: bob
My hair-- bob it!
F. Scott FitzgeraldTags: love girls beauty romance fashion hair gatsby fitzgerald bob
Twelve minutes. I can give you that.
Rick RiordanTags: friendship belief faith hope bob titan
Bob says hello.
Rick RiordanTags: stars sad bob percy house-of-hades
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