Giselle Quotes

For what is a dream if not love first felt and what is mystery if not life itself

It was like someone in a suit walked up to me and gave me a certificate, which stated “Roxanne Giselle Logan, Your Life is Fucked”.

Tex (wearing a tux, and not happy about it) boomed from across the room, “Roxanne Giselle Lo… I mean, Nightingale! When are those fuckin’ harpists gonna shut the fuck up and so we can get some rock ‘n’ roll?

The sea waves stirred before me they dashed against the rocks Like a mermaid rising from its depths curled white sea foam were her locks...

The vast open sea at night is a song being written; a rhyme, a mysterious and gentle arpeggiated work of Beethoven. It's sung by the waves as they travel on the face of the ocean, and their lyrics are the rhythm of the pounding surf.

I don't function without a heart, he said angrily and then added under his breath as he grabbed at the front of his Tshirt, He's right here.

You hear even a hint that a blizzard’s coming, Roxanne Giselle, you go straight to the store and buy toilet paper, you hear me? And make a pot of chili or stew. Don’t get caught out. I don’t want a phone call saying you starved to death, stuck in the house with no stew.

A girl sat captive in a tower of stone, she sat and dreamed but dreamt alone...

Ang Pilipino sabi ni Trono kay Giselle, at sa kumpulan ng mga kinkilig na kababaihan, ay pinaghalo-halong dugo. Sumasamba ng sabay-sabay kay Buddha at kay Kristo at sa mga anting-anting at Feng Shui. Sa dami ng nagsasabi sa kanya kung ano siya, nakalimutan na niya kung sino siya.

when life gives you lemon, take it. don't waste food

I remembered a song, it reminded me of you It made me think of a city I might pass through. The sky turned gray, and the clouds turned blue and the flowers all bowed under a misty dew.

His voice was smoke on midnight air.

Sully: I never said good-bye Giselle: Such a needless word when you love somebody

To say they had waited for months or even years to find each other again would not be accurate. Love runs on another time track. It can't be counted down and won't allow itself to be defined as terminable. For Reid and Lena, it could have been months, years or a lifetime because at that moment, it was as if no time had passed at all.

Giselle Speakmon’s parents are totally devout. When I get in there and we hook up, there won’t be any cribs for me either, Dad, because I reckon they’ll make me wear one of those chastity belts, knowin’ Jas is my brother and all.

Aster didn't mean it. As much as it frustrated her, she understood the logic of Giselle's psychosis. Everything dies, so exert control by burning it away yourself. Everything will be born again anyway. There's no such thing as creation, merely a shuffling of parts. All birth is rebirth in disguise. (63)

pomegranates

She was an ocean, and he was just a sinking man lost in her waves.

Once, when Giselle was alive, he thought about the future. Now he only thought about the past.

He was the wind to her sail, the anchor to her ship, the shore to her sea; she would follow him to any horizon, and he would do the same for her, regardless of what uncharted waters might lie ahead.

He dances until dawn and walks away from the ghosts. Into the light.

Pretty show, but you're wasting energy and time," Max said. "Mind if we get back to saving Horngate? You can go postal later.

And Giselle just saw the Cordellan heir give away pieces of Winter. Theron had no right to do this.

How the hell was she going to fight them? With style. She could almost hear Niko's voice. She grinned, despite herself. Do try not to die, won't you? That was Tyler. It would have been followed by a delicate yawn. And Oz: Keep your head down and don't be stupid. Lise: Bitch, do not even think about leaving me alone with all this testosterone. Giselle: You can't win if you die, so suck it up. Tutresiel: Princess, you aren't even trying if you're dying. And Alexander: Come home.

What I 'd like first is someone to raise them with, someone who will look at me and say, 'that one. I want that one.' You know what I mean? I want someone who will know right away that he wants to be with me and raise kids with me and just...love me.

Aaron’s mouth dropped open when he entered the “room;” it was more like a huge open loft … no walls, huge floor to ceiling windows, shiny hardwood floors … perfect for a studio. He had no idea how Jake had acquired such a huge space in Manhattan. As if reading his mind, Alyson leaned over and whispered, “He bought the place next door and tore down the walls.” “Perfect,” replied Aaron, “and did he happen to find a treasure chest hidden in one of the walls as well?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, how the holy hell does he afford this place? He looks like he’s twelve.” “He’s twenty-​two, and he happens to be quite successful.” “At twenty-​fucking-​two?” “He was born with talent?” Alyson said questioningly. “He’s a lucky wanker who blew the right people?” suggested Aaron. Alyson tried to scowl but grinned instead, “A child prodigy?” “A deal with the devil?” “Naturally gifted?” “An indulgent sugar daddy?” “How about ‘c) All of the above’?” asked a third voice from behind the partition at the far corner of the studio.

Because whenever anyone gets within a ten-foot radius of him, you go insane. Any time someone even dares to suggest there’s anyone in his life other than you, you go insane. Any time he’s not within touching distance, you go insane. And any time you think he’s falling away from you, that he’s not there, you go insane. You’ve put your whole life into him; what do you think that means, Jacob? How can you possibly explain that and not make it sound like he’s the axis your world spins on? Because if you can explain him away, and everything you feel for him away, then I’d like you to tell me how you function without a heart.

French women choose a scent when they’re girls and use it until they’re grandmothers. It becomes their trademark. 'Ah,' he murmurs in the dark theater, 'Giselle is here tonight!' But I think that a woman usually outgrows a fragrance every decade or so.

A scientist, Aster had learned something GIselle had not: decoding the past was like decoding the physical world. The best that could be hoped for was a working model. A reasonable approximation. That was to say, no matter what Aster learned of Lune, there was no piecing together the full mystery of her life. There was no hearing her laugh or feeling her embrace. A ghost is not a person. (147)

Her way through life had been winding until now, like an unruly stream stumbling its way over hurdles and bumps, oftentimes trickling into those dark, unexpected cracks. But she was like water. Persistent, versatile, never willing to wait.

She smiles. ‘I like black because it reminds me of night. You can only see all the stars when the sky’s black.

She’s like the tide, she is. Sometimes she will rage and sometimes she will recede, but she will always return, stronger and more unwavering than ever.

live life like a boss

Anything of any sort can be deemed 'unsinkable'—unbendable, unbreakable, even—'til the day so comes when it sinks, breaks, and bends. Titanic is no different.

There was an excitement coming from Giselle. She was standing on the edge of a new world and so ready to jump. How Lucifer felt upon leaving Heaven. He didn’t fall. He dove.

Holt is just one year younger than Giselle, but he thinks he’s the one in charge because he’s a man. Clearly Holt knows nothing about the might of women.

Giselle wondered how important it was to have a complicated life in addition to making your art.

Our faith is a mishmash of many things. We believe in family, in music and art, but we mostly believe in each other" -Giselle

Giselle would rouse herself from her torpor occasionally (she moved like a particularly lazy cat) in order to despise something.

Giselle wasn’t quite a people person.

Luther had been surprisingly gentlemanly with her. Despite Giselle’s mention that Luther liked the hunt more than the conquest, Emmy had fully expected him to come to her cabin the first night and take her anyway he liked. On the ocean there was no one to hear her scream. She had lain awake until dawn, a steak knife poised to thrust, but Luther had kept to himself.

You’re part of the fabric of my life, Giselle, and our quilt is stronger now. You have to see that. Forgive yourself, and things will be clearer, your heart open, major decisions easier.

How to explain this? A shadow kytaen becomes, in a way, the shadow of their keeper, and when the keeper chooses it to, the shadow will detach itself like It did just then.’ ‘What, like Peter Pan?

Giselle sat crouched inside, her body a mess of flowering bruises: irises, peonies, pharynxia, sheep's tongue blossoms, violets—rhododendron in some places. Beneath skin, blood seeped from inflamed vessels.

Giselle Chapman was hired by Bristol-Myers Squibb, one of the leading pharmaceutical companies at that time. She became their number one sales representative, and went on to form her own consulting company.

No. You see, the night works differently here than in the human realm,’ he continues. ‘Duwyn is a world of balance. Good and bad, light and dark – both must exist to keep the world in harmony.’ Oh God, he’s going to give me a Pocahontas speech.

With Gran gone, much of the time I feel like a blind person in a minefield. I’m constantly stumbling upon social improprieties hidden under the surface of things. But with Giselle around, I feel like I’m wearing a breastplate and am flanked by an armed guard.

Like watercolors blurring together upon a canvas, they had formed something beautiful, something inseparable, their hues blending to create a brilliant new shade. It was warm and secure, a color soft as the sunrise, and she welcomed it, letting its light spill into her being.

She hates team building, and she’s always avoided the outdoors, which I didn’t understand until she let slip that her dad used to take her and Giselle camping. (God knows how he found the time, since he was so busy being a slimy, two-timing twat, but clearly he kept on top of his schedule.)

Beautiful,” Jake whispered. “The pictures could never hold you. This is mine; this is what I was trying to find.” “Now that it’s found,” Aaron replied as his fingers combed through Jake’s hair, “don’t lose it again.” Ellis, Giselle (2010-02-23). Take My Picture (Kindle Locations 1646-1648). Dreamspinner Press. Kindle Edition.

arms went around his neck and back until their bodies were nothing more than a tangle of limbs that were too entwined to claim a single owner but were rather an extension of this new sweating, grunting, fucking creature they had created. Ellis, Giselle (2010-02-23). Take My Picture (Kindle Locations 1717-1719). Dreamspinner Press. Kindle Edition.

It pays to keep an open mind, but not so open your brains fall out,” I quote. She lifts up on her elbow and stares at me. “Carl Sagan?” I smirk at the surprise in her tone. “Not just a jock, Giselle. I read, mostly on the road.” She blows at a piece of hair in her face and plops back down. “Devon Walsh, squashing stereotypes one quote at a time.

After the first couple weeks, when all your sex toys had met all my sex toys, ...

Hearing those words, I instinctively turn to my new keeper, regretting it, because for only the third time in my entire existence, tears are streaming down my cheeks.

I look at Pegasus. ‘I’d rather be bound to you, boy. Bet you don’t have any problems besides where to take your morning dump.

It’s probable that doctors would tell me indulging Dad’s delusions is not advisable, but what the hell.

Wow. Another realm, huh? Your zealous delusions continue to impress me. Is this where we fly off to Olympus or Valhalla or Heaven or something?

She is magnificent. I cannot deny it.

I’ve had enough of this destiny bullshit, OK?

OK. How to start? All right. I’m going to be very blunt, so here it goes,’ he says. ‘I can see the future.’ 'Um. Yeah. Sure you can, Dad,’ I say.

live each day because yhou don't know if you wake up tomorrow.

Oh, God.’ ‘What?’ he says. ‘Ew.’ ‘What’ ‘Your leg. It looks dismembered. I swear there’s bone coming out of it. So gross.’ ‘… Couldn’t you at lease have phrased that more delicately?

Giselle’s features solidified. Whether she was beautiful, hot, pretty, or none of the above changed according to who was doing the looking and to whom she was being compared. Beauty was relative, reflective; you learned early to rank and code, to tally appearance and desirability in seconds, a subconscious algorithm that input body parts, clothing, attitude, makeup.

The Imperium made a solemn vow that if another Pulsar were to be born into our world," he continues, "that they would protect them at all costs in the hopes that a legend would arise again.

She took a powder container and brush and was about to use it on my face, but I stopped her. “Is it clean?” I asked. “The brush?” Giselle sighed. “Yes, Molly. It’s clean. You’re not the only person in the world who sanitizes things, you know.” This pleased me immensely because it confirmed what I knew in my heart. Giselle and I are so different, and yet, fundamentally, we are very much alike.

She had changed something in him, absurd as it was. He felt as if his entire world shifted, like a breaking wave reversing the direction of its curl, suddenly foaming and swirling itself back into the sea.

Contrary to what you may think, when O’Sah told me about kytaen, that I’d be meeting one, I didn’t picture a pet or a lackey to follow me. I didn’t think of a prisoner. I… I pictured an ally, a friend, OK?

There are two parts of each person’s brain: the upper-level logical part and the lower-level emotional part. I call these the “two yous.” They fight for control of each person. How that conflict is managed is the most important driver of our behaviors. That fighting was the biggest reason for the problems Bob, Giselle, and Dan raised. While the logical part of people’s brains could easily understand that knowing one’s weaknesses is a good thing

You and I are not like normal humans. We’re known as the Chosen and possess, how should I say it? We possess abilities that would be thought impossible. Think of, I don’t know, think of shape-shifters, illusionists, seers – like me.

And before either one could breathe another breath or utter another “yes,” Jake finally found out how Aaron looked as he came, finally saw the glazed look that slid over those brown eyes, finally saw the beauty that he had always known existed in this world but had never been able to find. Finally knew his Aaron. Bare, flushed, breathless, and slick beneath him. Ellis, Giselle (2010-02-23). Take My Picture (Kindle Locations 1736-1739). Dreamspinner Press. Kindle Edition.

I-I know you think me a monster, and maybe I am, b-but please never doubt how much I believed in you. Everything I did was for you. Yes, I did it all for you! I would live and die for you. Over and over if I had to. I was never your enemy.

I don’t have a choice. A kytaen comes at me, all teeth and claws, and instinct takes over. The magic that has been dormant for so long explodes out of me, and I become the beast I truly am. And with fire and fury and the will to survive, I pounce.

Excerpt from the Marquis's Mistake by myself. “So what am I my Lord, an antidote, a bluestocking or on the shelf? I assume it is the last because I should have come out three years ago and am all of twenty and one.” “But you were not out so that doesn’t count and I find you extremely desirable so you are far from an antidote. I think you very pretty and my taste has always been considered excellent. You are well educated but have other interests and ride well, so you fail to fit the criteria of a bluestocking. It might interest you to know my grandmother put you top of the girls she invited to her dinner party. Her opinion only confirmed what I had already concluded from examining your notebook and sketches. You eavesdrop and I sneak a peek at other people’s private notebooks. You see I think we would be well-matched.

You’re not like any other keeper I’ve met before. I’ve seen you two together, and more than anything I see you treat him as a friend. You look at him as an equal. Him… he looks at you with hope, and even more than that. I know that whatever bond you share with each other, it’s something real and powerful.

My brother . . . he used to say we fall through life like water. Just as a river gives itself to the ocean, so too will our paths meet their end. But we will never find ourselves alone. That’s what he always told me. We will reunite at the confluence, in time, for all rivers empty to the sea where they may rest.

Oh! I see it!’ I say. ‘I’m sitting, yes, I’m definitely sitting down on a chair with, let’s see, with my dad in front of me, who’s suddenly developed symptoms of Nutcase Syndrome, and… oh wait, that’s the here and now.’ I’m about to push his hands away from me. ‘I’m starting to think it’s you who needs to go to the hos-

Oh, right. I doubt this place has any delicious, fattening fast-food places, and maybe the Imperium doesn’t either. Yup, no McDonald’s, no Burger King, no Gino’s Pizza… Dear God, have I made a mistake coming here? I may be of small stature, but make no mistake: I am a glutton. On the other hand – possible franchise opportunity.

shaking her head. “She showed him.” For a few minutes, Ivy and Bean sat in silence, thinking. “Okay,” Ivy said finally. “I’m Giselle, and you’re the duke.” “All right,” said Bean. “But next time, I get to be Giselle.” It was fun playing Giselle, even though Ivy’s mom wouldn’t let them dance with a knife and they had to use a Wiffle bat instead. After they had each been Giselle a couple of times, they were Wilis, waving long Scotch-tape fingernails as they danced various people to death. “Mrs. Noble!” shrieked Bean. “I’m dancing Mrs. Noble to death.” Ivy ran to get a pair of her mother’s high heels and pretended to be Mrs. Noble, a fifth-grade teacher who had once given Ivy and Bean a lot of trouble.

You are not just any Chosen, my Lady," he says, and he meets my gaze with unflinching intensity. "The reason why your awakening of magic was so great, the reason why your eyes are red and no one else’s are… you are the heir to an ageless legacy, the heir of a slaughtered race. You are the last Pulsar, and we have been waiting for you for two hundred years.

they were tired of that so they ripped open the package and sat down side by side on Ivy’s couch to look at The Royal Book of the Ballet. “I heard that sometimes their toes bleed when they’re dancing,” said Bean. “The blood leaks right through the satin part.” “That’s gross,” said Ivy, turning the pages. Suddenly she stopped. “Whoa, Nellie,” murmured Bean, staring. “Is she kicking his head off?” asked Ivy in a whisper. “That’s what it looks like,” said Bean. “What’s this one called, anyway?” Ivy flipped back a few pages. “Giselle,” she said, reading quickly. “It’s about a girl named Giselle who, um, dances with this duke guy, but he’s going to marry a princess, not Giselle, so she takes his sword and stabs herself.” Ivy and Bean found the picture of that.

I put my head on his shoulder ‘Wh-what are you doing?’ he yells, shoving me away from him with wide eyes. ‘I was giving you a hug!’ I say. ‘Y-you-!’ ‘Pff. D’you really think I’d do that? I’m trying to keep warm, idiot. You’re like my overgrown Furby.’ ‘I’m in a human form, not my kytaen!’ ‘Tomayto, tomahto.’ I come close to him. He pushes me away. ‘You shouldn’t be doing that!’ ‘What’s the problem? You said you’re my tool, right? Well, I’m cold, tool of mine, so why don’t you calm the hell down and give me some of that sweet, sweet warmth?’ ‘Don’t touch me!’ ‘I’m starting to think you’re self-conscious in this form. You let me cuddle you in your other-‘ ‘We did not cuddle!’ he shouts. I manage a grin. ‘Would you prefer I use a different word? Snuggle, maybe?

You’re overly hostile, and that’s not a good thing. Pulsar, especially, are very controlled in their emotions.’ ‘So I’ve been told,’ I mutter. ‘They’re like water: elegant, neutral in all feeling. You, though, you’re like fire: blazing, belligerent, existing on all feelings – so unsuited to being a Pulsar.’ ‘Maybe that’s why we clash so much, you and me, because we’re fire on fire.

She could almost feel the wave of energy coming off of him as he moved with the wheel and thought if Jake wanted to photograph blatant sex, all he had to do was turn to his right and snap a few of Aaron. Neither one was paying the slightest bit of attention to the other, but Alyson was certain she could see a strand of nearly invisible light connecting them. She stared at them and thought that if she had a pair of those giant novelty scissors they used to cut red ribbons at the openings of new businesses, she could walk over and sever that connection with one snap of her shears and Jake and Aaron would crash to the floor like puppets shorn of their strings. Ellis, Giselle 2010-02-23. Take My Picture (Kindle Locations 638-643). Dreamspinner Press. Kindle Edition.

Ew,” said Bean. “But interesting.” “Yeah, and then she turns into a ghost with all these other girls. They’re called the Wilis.” The picture showed a troop of beautiful women dressed in white. They had very long fingernails. “And then,” Ivy read on, “the duke goes to see Giselle’s grave, and she comes out with the Wilis, and they decide to dance him to death.” Ivy stared at the picture. “To death.” Bean leaned over for a closer look. It was pretty amazing. Giselle’s pointed toe had snapped the duke’s head up so that his chin pointed straight up to the sky. It would fall off in a moment. The Wilis stood in a circle, waving their long fingernails admiringly. Bean lifted the page, wishing that she could see more of the picture, but there was no more. There never was. “Wow,” she said,

O’Sah explained to me that there are four categories of Chosen, each more powerful than the last. First are Zeros, Chosen who possess barely any magic. Second are Phobien, Chosen who have a reasonable amount of magic. Then, there are Thrones, considered powerful and holding many influential positions across Duwyn. And last, the Pulsar, the strongest of Chosen, revered as almost god-like beings.

But maybe that’s why you’re the last one, maybe that’s why the stargods decided to bring you into our world, because you’re not indifferent and you’re not mindless. You’re someone who can’t be crushed or tainted. Or at least, you’re not someone who will be easily. Maybe in these times, it’s not water we need, but fire. Maybe that’s why we’re together. Fire on fire, as you said.’ I blink, confused. ‘Are you… wait, are you being… nice to me?

Ever since Bob, Giselle, and Dan had presented me with the “Ray Feedback Memo” in the 1990s, I had been much more explicit in writing down and sharing my work principles in the same way I had written down my investment principles. At first, this took the form of shared philosophy statements and emails to the entire company. Then, whenever something new came along that required me to make a decision, I would reflect on my criteria for making that decision and write it down as a principle so people could make the connections between the situation, my principle for handling these situations, and my actions. More and more, we saw everything as “another one of those”—another of a certain type of situation like hiring, firing, determining compensation, dealing with dishonesty—that had principles for handling them. By having them explicitly written out, I could foster the idea meritocracy by having us together reflect on and refine those principles—and then adhere to them.

I don’t know her memories, I don’t know her thoughts, but it’s as if I can peek into her heart and know her, just as she will know me. If she were to turn from me now, I would not bear it. I need her. Without her I cannot exist, because I am no longer an independent entity. I am hers, body and soul, just as it is with every soul-binding. She is my light, she is my air, she is the heart, the soul, the essence – she is home. I may not want to feel this way but the binding has entwined us in an unshakable bond that no being can tear apart.

She’s elderly and needs care. It’s a very large apartment,” he says to Giselle. “You’d love her.” Shit, she loves older people. “Did she tell you she’s writing a romance?” I blurt. Greg’s eyebrows go sky high. “Ah, no.” “Aliens,” I say as I take a sip of my water. “Purple with sparkly scales and prehensile tails.” “I took the tail off!” she calls. “Oh?” He blinks down at Giselle, who’s currently giving me a flat look. Focusing on him, I try to decipher if he’s into it or thinks it’s not worthy of a scientist, but dammit, he’s not giving me any tells. “Do you think that’s silly?” she asks him. I don’t, babe, is on the tip of my tongue. Tell me more about them. Tell me everything. Put me back on your Pinterest board. (Yeah, I had to look up what that was.) You be the woman who can rock whatever she wants because she’s fascinating and intelligent and sexy as fuck. Greg leans in closer to her, his eyes heavy lidded. “I’m guessing you used real science to explain the details?” “Of course,” she says. He bites his lip. “Damn. That’s hot—” “All right!” I announce and shove at Aiden to get up.

What are you? Who are you? I have never met a Chosen like you in my entire existence. You are everything that is free. You are freedom. And I... I'm the bird trapped in the cage, watching you fly away. But then, you look back at me, you always look back, and you reach through the bars and offer your hand to me. Though I am nothing, though I am just a heartless creature, you still offer me your hand. But I won't take it. I won't because... what will happen to us if I do? It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Because you were kind to me, you made me laugh - that isn't something I will forget easily, and I will repay you.

Ae’anad’, he says. ‘What did you just call me?’ He’s silent. ‘Tell me. I command you,’ I say. ‘Now you’re discovering the ways of a keeper. Well, I’ll comply once, little lion.’ I blink. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re giving me a cute nickname?’ ‘Cute, you? Impossible. And “little lion” isn’t a cute nickname, either. You’re a ferocious animal who happens to be small.’ I glare. ‘I don’t like it.’ ‘That makes it all the better.’ He whacks my copper curls. ‘These, for example, are like a lion’s mane.’ ‘Hmph.’ ‘I don’t know why I didn’t come up with this before. You really are a little lion.’ And soon, Korren, very soon, I will be your keeper.

They then praise me for traits I don’t think I even have. Amiable presence? Hah! Lady of legends? OK, that sounds pretty cool. But righteous? Honourable? Composed? Did they just grab a dictionary and choose a bunch of positive words? And calling me polite, the girl who talks with her mouth full, the girl who speaks her mind at the worst moments, the girl who has no intention of hiding when she’s bored, annoyed or offended in order to respect the other person? Well, they’ll soon realise that polite was far from the truth. I’m not exactly impolite towards them, but I hate phoneys, and I have being phoney, too. Somehow, though, my upfront comments only spawn more of these exaggerated compliments: ‘What a sincere girl!’ and ‘We need a Pulsar of such boldness.

One winter day in 1993, Bob, Giselle, and Dan proposed taking me out to dinner with the stated purpose of “giving Ray feedback about how he affects people and company morale.” They sent me a memo first, the gist of which was that my way of operating was having a negative effect on everyone in the company. Here’s how they put it: What does Ray do well? He is very bright and innovative. He understands markets and money management. He is intense and energetic. He has very high standards and passes these to others around him. He has good intentions about teamwork, building group ownership, providing flexible work conditions to employees, and compensating people well. What Ray doesn’t do as well: Ray sometimes says or does things to employees which makes them feel incompetent, unnecessary, humiliated, overwhelmed, belittled, oppressed, or otherwise bad. The odds of this happening rise when Ray is under stress. At these times, his words and actions toward others create animosity toward him and leave a lasting impression. The impact of this is that people are demotivated rather than motivated. This reduces productivity and the quality of the environment. The effect reaches far beyond the single employee. The smallness of the company and the openness of communication means that everyone is affected when one person is demotivated, treated badly, not given due respect. The future success of the company is highly dependent on Ray’s ability to manage people as well as money. If he doesn’t manage people well, growth will be stunted and we will all be affected.

My head snaps in her direction. ‘Stop that,’ I say, standing in place. ‘Stop what?’ she asks. ‘With this thing, this niceness.’ ‘What d-you-?’ ‘I’m kytaen, a tool. You’re Chosen. We’re not friends. That kind of word doesn’t exist between our two species. Treat me how you’re supposed to and stop this… act.’ A moment passes, and then she says, ‘I see. So there’s going to be no civility between us, eh?’ ‘I’m glad you finally understand.’ ‘I didn’t exactly overlook your unsubtle hostility towards me.’ ‘Then why bother being nice?’ ‘I was raised to be polite to elderly people.’ ‘Then you should know I’m not old. I’m immortal.’ ‘Quit bragging’ I blink. ‘I wasn’t bragging, I was stating a fact.’ ‘It sounded like bragging to me.’ ‘It wasn’t.’ ‘It sounded like it.’ ‘Well it wasn’t.’ ‘Old men do tend to brag after all.’ ‘I wasn’t bragging!’ She gives me an impish grin. ‘They also lose their temper easily.' I grit my teeth.

All my hard work. Years of my life, convinced I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Convinced that I had found my passion. That if i could only continue to practice, to work hard and pour all my love into it, I would persist. Maybe join a major company. Maybe tour the world’s stages. Maybe perform in productions of Giselle or Coppelia or Don Quixote. Maybe become the next Noelani Pantastico. The first Maisie Cannon. But it’s all over. That much is clear now.

Kagan hated to hide the fact that Giselle was his marked. It felt deceitful. The conjugo was a mark proudly displayed by the Cadi. But Giselle was not Cadi and though Kagan was more enamored by her every day, it was doubtful his people would see it the same way. Kagan

Will you forgive me for causing you upset?” Giselle sighed. “I don’t forgive. I’m too petty.

Heidi smiled and said, “My name is … Giselle.

I was an island, and I was okay that way. I didn’t need anyone to look out for me. I didn’t need to be coddled or protected the way the entire family had done to Giselle for her whole life. I didn’t need anyone for anything.

Giselle is a beautiful peasant girl who falls in love with a duke who is pretending to be a peasant, so they can be together." "Speaking as a peasant, that makes no sense." "He's betrothed to someone else." "So he's cheating. What's his name?" "Albrecht." "Is he hot enough to make up for the crappy name?" "Anyway. Another gent has been pining after Giselle, and he thinks Albrecht is up to no good. When a hunting party with Albrecht's fiance arrives, the secret is revealed." "Wait, who's Mr Third-Wheel?" Javier hesitated. "Hilarion." Ethan guffawed so loudly that someone shushed them.

Does anyone survive in this ballet?" Ethan wondered. "Yep, me," said Carter, pulling on a flowy shirt. "So Mr Cheater gets off while everyone else dies?" "Giselle forgives Albrecht," said Javier. "He really did love her." "Giselle should have blackmailed him and become a duchess," said Ethan. "I like you," Elijah declared.

Her past was a dark, winding river she preferred to steer clear from, never wanting to dip her toes in lest she be dragged away by the strongest currents.

We’re not bleedin’ gods, mate. We’ve only so much time to love and laugh and shag and cry and grow old together as that ruddy clock keeps ticking away.

Even the sea, which had once called to him, sang to him, drawn him away from land and to the wilds of seafaring—now felt like a treacherous enemy, a cruel mistress that he wished he’d never braved in the first place.

Everything that happened that night . . . It was something darker and worse than hell. I can’t get it out of my head. I don’t reckon I ever will.

Esther is too busy being insubordinate at the moment, I’m afraid.

Holt is just one year younger than Giselle, but he thinks he’s the one in charge because he’s a man.

Zeus, who is that?" "Who?" I grabbed a bag of party wings before looking up and seeing Giselle staring me right in the face. "Shit." "So, you do know her?" "Yea, that's jezebel," I said, tittering to myself before going back to shopping. I wasn't stunting shorty. I had let her suck my dick one time and never hit her again. She was irrelevant, if you asked me. I didn’t even see why she was in my fucking face and while she saw that I was clearly with someone. "Hey, jezebel! How are you this evening?" "What the fuck you doing?" I slapped Doe's hand down because she was giving the damn girl a fake ass neighbor wave. "That's not even her damn name, Doe." "Well, you said it was!" "It's actually Giselle." We both

It was also unlike Giselle to forget to tip me. We’re all entitled to a bad day now and again, I heard Gran say in my head. But when they are all bad days, with no pleasant ones, then it’s time to reconsider things.

Vi a muchos alumnos nuevos cruzar las puertas con sus ojos llenos de esperanzas. Me mordí el labio para evitar decirles que entraron al infierno, que luego del primer año todas sus esperanzas habrían muerto y solo les quedarían las ganas de que este infierno terminase.

¡Enójate, moléstate, ten un mal día! ¡Los chicos cool no deberían ser amables con todo el mundo! Se supone que son fríos y calculadores, ¿no?

—¿Por qué mierda estás sonriendo, Aiden? —me miró con cansancio. —¿Qué acaso no puedo sonreír? —inquirí más divertido aún. —Es la primera vez que te veo con una expresión más relajada y no con el ceño fruncido. —Pues, es la primera vez que veo al perfecto Leo Valenti enojado y frustrado —confesé sin poder evitar sonreír. —¿Estás sonriendo porque estoy enojado? ¿Es en serio, Aiden? —comentó con incredulidad. —Sí, es un poco divertido ver que tú también eres humano.

—¿Por qué estabas aquí? ¿Te escapaste? —No, tenía que buscar algo que capturara mi atención y llevarlo como modelo para dibujarlo de espalda al papel —expliqué mirando el ramillete. —Y, ¿lo encontraste? —inquirió con una pequeña sonrisa juguetona. Miré el ramillete en mi mano y luego su rostro siendo iluminado por el sol, haciendo que sus piercings brillaran. Las gráciles ondas de su cabello oscuro cayeron por sus pómulos, y sus ojos parecían ligeramente más exóticos, viéndose de un color pardo bajo esta luz cálida. Maldición. Solté una pequeña risa antes de contestar. —Sí. Él solo se mordió el labio inferior, donde tenía el piercing negro, y con una ligera sonrisa negó con la cabeza, como si no pudiera dar crédito a mi respuesta monosílaba. Él lo sabía. Me había visto mirarlo más de la cuenta… y permitió que lo hiciera. Lo disfrutó incluso.

—Deberías sonreír más, tu sonrisa es muy hermosa, Aiden. Definitivamente odiaba a Leo Valenti.

—¿Y un cambio de look ayudó? —La seguridad ayudó. No hay nada más sexy que una persona segura de sí misma. La confianza es muy atractiva.

Puedes llevar el pelo negro o blanco, y eso no te hará menos sexy, porque si tú crees que te ves genial con ese color, pues todo el que te vea estará convencido que así es. Lo mismo con la ropa, o tus gustos. No tienes que juzgarte ni acomplejarte solo, a veces es mejor arriesgarse, probar cosas nuevas, divertirse. Quién sabe, quizás luego te queden gustando.

el color no te hará más o menos femenino, es la actitud. Puedes ser un sexy pelirrosa o un adorable pelirrosa, pero eso está en ti y en lo que tú quieras ser

—Eres tan jodidamente adorable —comentó abrazándome. —No lo soy. —suspiré devolviéndole el abrazo. —¡Sí, lo eres! —gritó mi hermano desde la otra calle. Mierda, lo vio todo. Arg.

Lexi stepped from the darkness. She wore a skin-tight black leather jacket, black leather pants that might have been painted on, and black leather boots. Strapped around her waist and thigh was a bright yellow utility belt. But it was the signature mask, cape, and emblem on her chest that gave it away. “Batgirl...” Cate whispered.

She flicked off the light and was about to step out onto the balcony when she heard a familiar sound. She smiled and went to the rail. “Now I’ve seen everything,” she whispered as Lexi climbed down onto the balcony. They looked at one another for a moment without saying a word. Cate felt her heart race as Lexi’s dark eyes penetrated through her mask like lasers. Lexi reached for her and pulled her inside.

She preferred the idea of me more than the real me, I think.” “Sexy

Brianna,” I heard a sweet voice call to me from somewhere above the clouds. “Brianna Valente, this is your captain calling,” came that sweet voice again.

Things had always seemed so simple when we were wrapped in each other, as if the pressures of our lives just fell away. But in one night, everything had changed. Johnathon's life hung in the balance and Bryce was gone. A media storm waited for us outside. It was impossible to ignore who the woman in my arms was. Silently, suffocatingly, the weight of her world pressed down on us. As I looked ahead, to the rest of the summer, to the fall and winter months beyond, I realized that nothing would be simple and perhaps never would be again.

I sensed her before I saw her but I didn't scream. I remember thinking at the time that the split seconds before death were a quiet and still place. Her eyes were unapologetic, piercing and untamed. This is how it will end, I thought to myself with no sense of tragedy. It seemed complete and, in a way, romantic. But another second passed and then another. She released me from her hypnotic gaze and bent her beautiful head. And then with gentle flicks of her tongue began to drink from the river. Her eyes never wavered from mine as she lapped at the cool waters that flowed between us. And then, in a blink and a whisper, she was gone.

Do you still want me to call you Cleopatra?" I whispered softly with a smirk. She suppressed a laugh. "No!" She looked at me with serious eyes and I could see that she wasn't quite ready to tell me her secret. "It's okay," I said, "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

She slapped my shoulder playfully. "I've created a monster," she said, then she nestled into the chair and rested her head on my shoulder, "an adorable, sexy monster.

We are not so different, you and I," she said as if she was inside my thoughts. "We are flesh," she ran her finger down the center of my chest and circled around my breasts, "and bone," her hand traced a path down my abdomen and over the crest of my hip and down my thigh, "fire," her hand swept up my body and pressed against my beating heart, "and water," her hand trailed down and between my legs...

I looked around the tiny bathroom, at the three of us crammed in. A billionaire, a movie star, and a small town girl. It was some sick lesbian twist on Gilligan's Island. I would have laughed but none of it was funny.

Google billionaire lesbian, you'll find it right away," she said.

I was sucked in by the blackness of her eyes. I was pulled under as she sank mercifully deep. I imagined her whole body playing inside mine, writhing up and down as I was filled and emptied. My deepest fire ignited then raged and finally exploded. My eyes were open when it happened. Nikki thundered down on me and rocked me in her arms until I stopped shaking. There was nothing more to save and nothing more to give. That sacred part of my soul was now and forever hers.

I’m going to tell you a story,” she whispered. “There once was a beautiful woman named Amber, who lived alone in a far away land between the sea and the sky. Anyone that passed by knew that Amber was special. But there was one who adored her most of all.” She paused and smiled down at me. “Whenever Amber went down to the ocean and bathed her body, whenever she dipped her long fingers into the waves, the mermaid that lived in the deep water beyond the reef would swim close and watch her. Each day the mermaid came a little closer until finally, she emerged from the water and said hello.” “Just like you did,” I whispered. “Shhh.” She held her finger to my lips. “When Amber saw the mermaid, she was very curious. More curious perhaps, than she’d ever been about anyone. The mermaid was even more curious about Amber. No other woman had ever seemed so perfect and so pure. Every time the mermaid looked at Amber her desire grew like wildfire. Amber hadn’t yet learned all the slippery ways of the world,” She said softly as she dipped her thumb between my lips. I sighed as she pressed into me. “The mermaid could tell that Amber was still afraid. So the mermaid decided to take a chance. She gave Amber a single kiss and hoped that Amber would see her for who she really was.

I had the dream again. I was leaning in the back corner of the elevator in my building looking down at the bundle of keys in my hand. Below my hand were the blurred outlines of my black leather lace-up boots and my frayed black jeans. There was ink all over my legs from the screen-printers in my shop. There was ink on the skin beneath the rips at my knee and my thigh where the rough edge of my work table had worn through... The detail was vivid, but there was an ethereal sparkle to everything around the edges. The periphery washed out of focus as if I was looking through a narrow lens... Then the elevator stopped and the door opened. A woman climbed on board. Her face was concealed behind large sunglasses. The realism of the dream became unsteady and I lost grip. The images became fleeting close-ups, stills, and sensations. She was looking at me and my heart began to race... A part of me worried that I was drunk and about to make an embarrassing pass at some poor woman from my building. But when I reached for her, she reached for me too... She pulled my hand down and then the elevator began to plummet. I realized I didn’t have much time. I was surrounded by her scent and warmth... I was so overwhelmed with the sensuality of everything that I lost myself in her... Then I watched her eyes fade into the blackness of my apartment as I woke up.

They’re all yours,” Taylor whispered. “If you want them.” She hoped very much that she did. She hoped Jericho would begin to show her what she was really made of. She slid her hand down the seat of Jericho’s pants and pulled her tight. “Let me feel your mouth,” she whispered.

In the very unlikely chance that something unexpected happens today, I’m just going to say that I met you in Barcelona and that we had a wild affair and that I followed you to Malaga for sex and the promise of a good time.” “More or less true,” Lexi grinned. “It’s perfect.” “If you get hauled away in handcuffs, I’ll ask for visitation rights to get my lady fix.

She opened the latest crime-scene photos submitted by the Nashville Police Department overnight. The fresh kill. The photo named the victim as Giselle St. Claire. What a delicate name, she thought. Poor girl. Giselle was naked, blue from the cold. She showed signs of exsanguination; the gaping wound in her neck gave that away easily. A second smile. The blood was pooled below her head, framing the scene in a macabre ruby border. Charlotte

Ma ha bisogno anche di qualcuno che si prenda cura di lui e sia più di un amico. Ha bisogno di una persona che lo ami perché è eccezionale e fuori dal comune e meraviglioso, perché è… Jake, e non di qualcuno che è affascinato solo dal suo cognome. Non ha bisogno di parassiti, ma di una persona vera, onesta.

You're my favorite nice girl.

My mind stopped spinning as I was enveloped in waves of pleasure. Through half-open eyes, I saw fragments of the ancient room, the stone walls, the enormous wooden beams. I smelled history and ancient ground, war, and turmoil and worship.

You're my sweet, sexy, goddess of love and I want you and every beautiful little thing that you make.

Cactus face over there doesn't look happy," Audrey whispered and we both giggled. "Maize calls that resting bitch face," I said and immediately felt bad for repeating it. "Let's not be mean. Maybe she's just constipated.

Back then they used different chemicals in the tanning process. They prevent ocean bacteria from eating away at whatever is inside. A leather bag from the early 1900's is like a time capsule.

Frost is angry because I tried to give him some advice. He was dancing as Frostyev in his Goblinovski Festival Ballet, and there were a few simple ways that he could have improved his style. I was trying to help, but he took it very badly.

Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

What’s a hussy?” Wilson called over. “An immoral woman.” Logan let out a laugh. “No, she can’t live forever. Ivy was trying to call her loose,” Giselle clarified.

one of the most deliciously atrocious writers around

If there is a heaven, it should be like all the places you love or the places you've never been but wish you'd visited while you were still alive." -Giselle

But there's something about music, when you feel it deeply, when you understand it so well, the way Isabelle understands it, there is something about it that makes scary things seem to disappear. If only for a little while" -Giselle

Giselle was silent for a moment. “It’s not too late for me, is it Sergei? I’m still young enough to love, to have children, and a man?” Sergei

Yo soy el tesoro al final del arcoíris, pide un deseo, Cian.

When you don't have anything to read, read Claire Legrand.

Rachel turned and smiled at her. The one thing that made Christmas truly perfect was being able to share it with each other

I’m a selfish man, and I don’t like to share my shit. You and this pretty pussy are now my shit, Giselle.

Love you to death

And yet, as a mother, I still felt I’d made the right decision. Daniel had advantages to offer that I simply could not. Because he was black and so was Giselle, painful as it was to go there. Because he did love his daughter madly, and maybe he’d made some points about the desirability of his being the primary parent.

Keep going, Giselle commanded herself. Just one more step. Just one more step. The chant in her brain seemed to work. Just one more step. One more step. One more step. One more. One more. One… A warm hand touched her shoulder and her eyes sprung open. Maura stood beside her, the light from Angelica’s stick illuminating her amused face. Giselle didn’t care. She almost collapsed in relief when she saw she was past the chasm. Well past.

Frasi inizio Bleach Volume 56 – March of the starcross – Quilge Opie L'armata marcia al suono della tromba Il ronzio nelle orecchie non si arresta, come polvere di stelle Il rombo degli stivali, come il tuono Volume 57 – OUT OF BLOOM – Byakuya Kuchiki Benché una volta sfioriti rifiorire non potremo come fiamme con leggiadria sfioriremo Volume 58 – THE FIRE – Shigekuni Genryūsai Yamamoto Arde l'anima benché scenda la pioggia Volume 59 – THE BATTLE – Retsu Unohana La battaglia è tutto. Volume 60 – EVERYTHING BUT THE RAIN – Masaki Kurosaki Nella tua innocenza, tu sei come il sole anche nella tua colpevolezza sei come il sole Volume 61 – THE LAST 9 DAYS – Vecchio Zangetsu (Manifestazione dei poteri Quincy di Ichigo) Io credo fermamente che il mondo sia saturo di pericoli e il mio desiderio di proteggerti da esso nasce proprio perché dentro di me esiste un impulso della stessa natura di quel pericolo Volume 62 – HEART OF WOLF – Sajin Komamura Continua a combattere per tutta la vita finché il tuo cuore resta armato di zanne Volume 63 – HEAR, FEAR, HERE – Äs Nödt Non vi è differenza tra il vivere e l'essere lasciato vivere Come non vi è differenza tra il morire e l'essere ucciso Volume 64 – DEATH IN VISION – Gremmy Thomeaux La bellezza è che lì non vi sia nulla Volume 65 – MARCHING OUT THE ZOMBIES – Giselle Gewelle Mi piaci. Da morire.

Iz did not have bad thoughts. Or at least, he did not allow the bad thoughts to win, though it took an exhausting amount of effort. He painted his nails Lilacs-in-June and Apple Blossom White and told himself he was scary, and brilliant, and only a bit freakish. He reminded himself that someone like Ronnie loved him as he struggled through extra credit work he didn’t care about and drifted through two on-campus guest lectures. He used depilatory cream because some days shaving was too much, and he stared at the circles under his eyes and wondered if it mattered whether or not he was beautiful if two particular people did not care. Those were perilous moments. He forced himself to get up in time to do his hair properly before class. No messy buns. No ponytails. He ate oatmeal for breakfast, every day, even if he forgot lunch and dinner. He sat outside if it was sunny, and returned to the library when it was not, so no one could say he hid in his bedroom. He did not go out with his friends. He did not visit or talk to anyone for long, except Giselle, who set him down in front of a period drama miniseries that lasted for hours as if that was any kind of distraction when Iz could barely focus.

Giselle had woken up once already, to find that she was pinned to the bed by the weight of Saul‘s leg lying across her lower body and his arm holding her against his side. It was a welcome imprisonment, though, and it enabled her to lie silently within its captivity and marvel at the magical events of the night and the happiness they had brought her. Now she was awake again—this time to find that she had the bed—his bed—to herself, and that she could stretch out languorously in it, entranced by the sweetly heavy ennui that possessed her body as intimately and intensely as Saul had possessed it during the night.

You are the wheel on which my life turns, Giselle, the heart of everything I do. I promise you that somehow we will find a way to set you free from your fear.

My heart is hoping for something I didn’t plan. I never wanted to fall for Alistair any more than Giselle wanted to fall for the prince, but we can’t help who we love.

Tom and Giselle.

Nijinsky, Lawrence, Van Gogh, each had his own form of discipline towards this end. Each one had, as it were, discovered in some moment of insight a source from which these supplies of ‘more abundant life’ flowed, and each concentrated on a discipline that would make the source accessible. Lawrence was a thinker who had found imaginative relief in his study of the past. Van Gogh’s religious temperament needed to accumulate sense impressions; his striving towards a sense of ‘otherness’ took the form of a sort of pictorial memory of other times and other places: a memory that was, after all, incomplete, since he could not capture the scent of the almond tree or the hot July wind, or the tension in the air of a rising storm on his canvas. But Nijinsky’s kingdom was the body. People who saw him dance have testified to his amazing ability to become the part he was acting, whether the Negro in Scheherezade, the puppet in Petrouchka, or the Prince in Giselle. His discipline gave him the power to dismiss his identity at will, or to expand some parts and contract others to give an illusion of a completely new personality. It was this power that, at times, became a mystical intensity of abnegation in his dancing, that occasionally gave him glimpses into the ecstasy of the saint.

God, Giselle.’ ‘What?’ ‘Sometimes, when you smile at me, your face holds all the quiet beauty of the world.’ Her throat thickened. ‘I didn’t have you for a poet, Lyall.’ ‘Only with you. Only ever with you,’ he said.

Scars mean we’ve survived something terrible. They prove we are tough. That we are survivors. We are alive.

What was happening to her? She was becoming like her father right after he returned from the Great War, the righteous, honorable Monsieur Legrand who tried to teach her things that weren’t meant to be taught, as it appeared. One had to live through them to understand the true value of things, and Giselle hated all of the new revelations that came to her in this swamp of a street.

God, Giselle.’ ‘What?’ ‘Sometimes, when you smile at me, your face holds all the quiet beauty of the world.’ Her throat thickened. ‘I didn’t have you for a poet, Lyall.’ ‘Only with you. Only ever with you,’ he said.

The Scot sighed. ‘I have no intention of touching you, unless you want me to, that is?’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘We could pass a pleasant night together, and you could make me forget how much everything hurts.’ ‘I said wash, Giselle. I’ll not share my bed with a filthy woman who stinks of wine.’ ‘I am sure that’s just the kind of woman men like you, prefer.

Hay cosas que sabemos, Blass, pero aun así las hacemos, porque creemos que no nos pasarán nunca. Las cosas pasan, pero no voy a vivir evitándolas.

No debí preguntar, era obvio que no debí seguirle el juego a Valenti. Nunca aprendo.

—¿Realmente crees que podrás hacerme cambiar de opinión sobre ti? Cuando dije eso, él solamente se giró para quedar mirando hacia el cielo nocturno, y con esa acción mi aliento se cortó. Solo era su perfil delineado por luces casi violáceas, pero, por alguna razón que desconozco, mis ojos estaban anclados a él, repasando sus rasgos, temblando por lo surrealista que era lo que estaba presenciando. —Si me das la oportunidad, creo que podría hacerte cambiar tu opinión respecto a todo —cada palabra me derrumbó por completo, se colaron en mi cerebro e hicieron estragos en mi corazón.

Cada persona que se encontraba a mi lado se encargaba de compartir un poco de su esencia conmigo. Una historia, una vivencia, unas palabras, unas sonrisas, una canción, un plumón prestado, una lata nueva, un cap artesanal, una técnica única. Ellos entregaban todo de sí mismos, solo para apoyarse los unos a los otros.

—Valenti… —susurras en modo de advertencia. ¿Sabes lo mucho que amo mi nombre cuando lo dices tú? Leo Valenti.

A veces, necesitamos que nos digan las cosas que son obvias, porque para nosotros no lo son tanto —declaré desviando la mirada.

—Puedes tratar de llegar a mí con esas pequeñas palabras, pero me haré más fuerte. Soy una estrella que crece en tus celos y envidia —sonrió mientras le escupía a la cara cada una de las siguientes palabras—. Como sabes, mi voz te excitará, ya seas un chico o una chica, mi lengua te hará acabar. ¡JODIDA MIERDA!

—¿Se terminó? —preguntó con algo de pesadumbre mientras volvía recorrer con sus manos mi espalda. —Si te apuras, quizás no. —Escondí mi rostro en su cuello, avergonzado. —Maldición, Aiden. —Me alzó e hizo que lo rodeara con las piernas en un intento de no caerme. Me pilló tan de sorpresa, que no pude decir nada por casi todo un minuto mientras él caminaba con apuro cargándome en sus brazos. —¡Bájame! —grité completamente avergonzado. Aunque dije eso, yo mismo lo tenía fuertemente abrazado. —No lo haré. Estás siendo un encanto esta noche, no te soltaré por nada. Me aferraré a ti, así que espero que tú hagas lo mismo conmigo.

—Por supuesto que es buena idea. La noche es larga, no pienso dejar que te duermas. —¿Por qué? —No podía quitarme la sensación de ansiedad en estos momentos. —Miedo a que después te arrepientas, por lo que simplemente haré que el momento dure lo que más pueda —respondió sonriente.

A Valenti le gusta mostrar su arte, le gusta enseñarlo, compartirlo, vivirlo con los demás y a través de ellos. Necesitaba un canal para compartirlo, para difundirlo y hacerlo crecer. Yo, por otro lado, creía que mi arte era el canal mismo que se encargaba de difundir mi idea. Todas nuestras concepciones se contradecían entre ellas, no teníamos nada en común. Bien, eso creí hasta que, con una sonrisa que iluminó sus ojos, Valenti susurró: «Realmente nos parecemos mucho».

A pesar de eso, mirándolo, estoy completamente seguro de que si él intentara besarme… yo le respondería ese beso.

¿Cómo es tener una relación? Pues es simple, es como tener un mejor amigo, pero mejor.

mi mejor amigo es mejor que eso.

—¡Addie! ¡Tus ojitos! —lloró dejando caer una bolsa que tenía en su mano para acunar mi rostro. —Los tuyos también están así, y no grites más, me duele la cabeza —cerré los ojos. —¡Te traje unas compresas frías para tus ojitos! —Me pasó dos compresas largas.

Si quieres que te diga todos los días lo fantástico que eres a mis ojos, puedo hacerlo sin problemas. Sigue esforzándote, tú tranquilo, estaré ahí para recordártelo.

Él fue mi pasado, tú eres mi presente y espero que seas mi jodido futuro.

Estabas lleno de manchas por todos lados, pero a ti nunca te importó, eras tú y tu obra, y eso era perfecto. Esa imagen de ti nunca la he podido superar. No había forma de que pudiera. No cuando estabas lleno de cyan, de magenta y de amarillo. Tú no estabas haciendo arte, tú eras arte.

«…me importa una mierda, no me rendiré, aún lo quiero todo...»

Fools, de Troy Sivan.

—¿Quieres que me desnude para ti?

Todos los besos son buenos cuando vienen de la persona indicada. No hay forma de que seas el peor beso de mi vida, Blass. No con esa maldita boca tuya.

The wedding that afternoon of Giselle Crumley and Myrtle Sansox would be Nelie’s last chance to win the affections of Lance Boulder, for tomorrow Lance would be thousands of miles away fighting a war. At times Nelie thought Lance’s military duties were just an excuse to delay their marriage. It seemed odd that a war would break out every time she mentioned marriage and the men wouldn’t know what to eat unless Lance was there. - Love in the Time of Rising Gas Prices

Tis only me, dearie,” Maggie said. Giselle turned to see Glenross’ housekeeper enter the room with a few things slung over her arm. “Ye dinna want tae stay in there too long or ye’ll catch a chill.

...our lives begin long before we do.

This story stirs up our violence, our barely concealed sordidness, our dormant traumas, our silences, our equivocations. It is the grubby reflection of the domination and predatory activity that still structures our world.