Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain.
Bob DylanTags: pain beautiful of kind behind thing
The only really interesting thing is
what happens between two people in a room.
Tags: people interesting room thing
I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow.
Sylvia PlathThe only thing wrong with immortality is that it tends to go on forever.
Herb CaenTags: wrong immortality only immortal forever thing herb-caen
AAAAIIIE!
You're the guy with the things, and the thing that does that thing, and then you did that one thing!
Oh, and I think there's something about other things, and maybe you fix things?
-Sergeant Schlock
Tags: humour thing shock vague
Embraced in Isaac’s wings, I decided that change wasn’t such a bad thing. It actually gave flight to a whole new world I couldn’t wait to explore.
Cherie ColyerTags: inspirational change new-world thing
I felt a smile on my face. "Thanks." "For what?" "Using my name instead of calling me a thing.
John CorwinIt's one thing if your hobby is to put ships inside a bottle, but a deer in the headlights!... That's a real talent
Josh SternTags: humor talent absurd witty deer ships hobby thing headlights
Inspiration is not the thing which can be seek, its right within you.
Ujas SoniTags: inspiration belief self right within seeking thing
One may, in a case of exigency, introduce the reader in to a nuptial chamber, not into a virginal chamber. Verse would hardly venture it, prose must not.
It is the interior of a flower that is not yet unfolded, it is whiteness in the dark, it is the private cell of a closed lily, which must not be gazed upon by man so long as the sun has not gazed upon it. Woman in the bud is sacred. That innocent bud which opens, that adorable half-nudity which is afraid of itself, that white foot which takes refuge in a slipper, that throat which veils itself before a mirror as though a mirror were an eye, that chemise which makes haste to rise up and conceal the shoulder for a creaking bit of furniture or a passing vehicle, those cords tied, those clasps fastened, those laces drawn, those tremors, those shivers of cold and modesty, that exquisite affright in every movement, that almost winged uneasiness where there is no cause for alarm, the successive phases of dressing, as charming as the clouds of dawn,—it is not fitting at all that all this should be narrated, and it is too much to have even called attention to it.
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