Marsha > Recent Status Updates

"Yes, but I do not know yet if she will have me. For she is not more than a third of my age, and a romantic little devil. She can neither make a pancake nor darn a sock, and she will not read the philosophy of Hegel. If I get her I shall have to buy the French fashion papers, carry my wife's shawl at the balls, study the language of flowers, and take to narrating ghost stories in the winter evenings."

Johnson seemed just as indifferent; just a little glum for not being able to appease his desire for nicotine. The director did not like the defense lawyer's smile as she allowed herself to add, as if she had just won a personal victory: "I don't think you can send this unfortunate back to be executed so quickly. That's not how you play with the nerves of a condemned man!" "We'll see about that!" replied her opponent.

Generally he was very gay with her, and would take her on his knees and warm his cold hands on her. His breath sometimes smelled of gin, but she never told anybody. Even three years later, when she was confirmed, she imagined the Lord Jesus with his long hair in a queue, and with that rare, wild, broken and arrogant smile of the dying poet.

The Prioress looked him up and down, and said:
Straight is the line of duty,
Curved is the line of beauty.
Follow the straight line; thou shalt see
The curved line ever follows thee.
The boy thought the poem over.

ALAN: I can only do weekends.
JILL: That's when most people ride. We can always use extra hands. It'd mainly be mucking out.
ALAN: I don't mind.
JILL: Can you ride?
ALAN: No...No... I don't want to.
She looks at him curiously.

The 10K credit debt didn't matter to Guy. His incarceration being just to bring Riki to Iason was what drove Guy to anger. Kirie, Guy, everyone--dancing on the palm of Iason. And this contract, this relationiship between Riki and Iason being Guy's fault--that hurt most of all.

"It took some exceptional creeps to help me see that a closeted life is really no life at all." "That's cool. The story I most often hear is it's the love of someone that helps pull a guy out of the closet." An unexpected jolt of hurt shot through Dustin's gut. Maybe he wasn't as over Kyle as he thought. And with that thought came images of Kyle's smile, the strength of his arms, the heat they shared in the shower...

Something stirred deep within Dustin. Though he considered himself gay, he sometimes appreciated the female form. His mind wandered into dark places, wondering what she might look like sprawled out naked on his bed, writhing underneath him as he thrust his dick in and out of her. His cock became unexpectedly hard--women who made him horny were far and few between.

Holger fumed till his eyes smarted. He guided Papillon with his knees, raising his cloak behind his head with both heads, to provide a dark backdrop for the smoke. He rode toward the warriors. They had stopped dead. Holger flapped his arms. "Boo!" he shouted. One minute afterward, the heathen were out of sight. The slope was littered with the weapons they had dropped. Their screams drifted from the ravine.

I wasn't raised to be a bigot. My parents considered religious intolerance a sin. My mother had seen too much of it in her childhood. Her mother's marriage to a non-Catholic had been an act of courage. Within two generations she had kicked the dirt of the old country's prejudices from her shoes and adopted Australia's own "religion"--a passionately tolerant secularism. It happened to almost everybody.

Hero thought the Parliament would probably pass the anti-polygamy law. In the Koran, polygamy is presented as an option for men, not as a requirement. The Koran, in stipulating four as a maximum, was setting limits, not giving license. A close reading of the text suggests that monogamy is preferred. "If you shall not be able to deal justly, [take] one" the Koran says.

The police had picked up a[n] Arab runaway they'd found driving around with a married man. The girl begged the police not to involve her parents. "She explained that they'd kill her, but the police took no notice. They called the family and said, 'We've got your daughter here. She's very scared; you have to promise you won't hurt her.' The family said they wouldn't." Not long after, the girl was found murdered.

How do the average people of the world receive this message, this change in the fashion tide? I don't recall anybody ever telling me, "You need to take off that zipper shirt and put one on with the neck and sleeves cut off of it. They're watching!" I'd find myself walking around and noticing nobody was wearing the things I had on or had hanging in my closet. I'm sure people were secretly pointing at me.

"So you're just going to park it right here? How are we going to get down?" The Professor leaned over the deck of the ship, knowing they were up far too high to jump. "That's the fun part, Professor." The Count of Monte Cristo stepped up beside The Professor and dropped a long rope from the side of the deck, tying off his end and then putting on some gloves. "See you all at the bottom."

The bogeyman rose up from with The Count of Monte Cristo, floating in the air like a black, shadowy ghost, darting toward Zeddy, ready to take control of his body. "Numalta!" Zeddy yelled as he threw his magic rock up into the air and it began sucking the bogeyman inside of it, along with Cerberus and the dragon, once more. "Enjoy your new friends. I wonder if you can withstand fire?"

"So, if we go there, will we find Zane?" Zadie asked, not impressed with having to make another journey, especially one this far, but willing to do so to reunite with her husband, and reunite Zeddy with his father. "But won't we need the key, Mommy?" "If I know your father, he left the key in plain sight for us to find. We just have to follow the clues and get there."

It was one of the more commonly reported effects of ley lines, especially in Scotland. In Scottish folklore, there was a long-held myth that travelers could be "pixy-led," or led astray by territorial fairies. Hikers would set out along a straight trail only to find themselves inexplicably lost, standing in a location they had no recollection of walking to, yards or miles away from their starting point.

Malory was one of the prime authorities on British ley lines. He was either eighty or one or two hundred years old and had written three books on the subject, all classics in the (very limited0 field. They'd met the summer Gansey was splitting his time between Wales and London. Malory had been the first one to take fifteen-year-old Gansey seriously, a favor for which Gansey would not soon stop being grateful for.

The night Zhin stayed at DC, she and Sing laughed and ate microwave popcorn until two in the morning. And even though Zhin would betray her the next day, Sing can't remember that night with anything but fondness. Sing remembers her in her sea-green pajamas, cross-legged, a pillow wedged between her torso and the wall, both of them giggling as though they were ten instead of seventeen. Sing liked that Zhin.

Zhin peers across the room. "Choppy runs, awkward bowing, uneven tone. Sloppy." "Well, I was pretty sloppy at that age, too," Carrie says. "It's tricky when you grow a foot and your violin stays the same size." "Yes, it is," Zhin says. "You have to work twice as hard." "I always work twice as hard. It's okay to spend some time with your grandpa and have some fun. She's just a kid."

"But I have built a church. I believe we can bring goodness here. And I wanted to tell you before I die." The Felix took another step closer and looked into his eyes. She bristled in surprise. There was the brilliant galaxy she had missed for so long. In this man's eyes, she saw the boundless, swirling reaches of his soul. For a moment, she was mesmerized. Then it passed. She tore out his throat.

"What is this writing?" "It's called an epitaph," he says. "Who chooses it?" "It depends. Sometimes if the person knows they are dying, they choose it. Often it's those left behind who have to choose something that fits the person's life." "That's sad," I say. "But beautiful."

Xander's act of kindness makes me feel a little like crying, so I have to joke instead. "We shared a spoon. That's practically kissing." Xander rolls his eyes. "If you think that, you've never been kissed before." "Of course I've been kissed before." We are teenagers, after all.

At the arcade, he told the man he had four hundred fifty-three tickets. He asked for the winged-horse bank, which cost five hundred. The man suggested he take a frog bank, which cost less. He said, “It’s ugly. Can’t you just give me the winged horse?” The man said, “No.” “But I’ve been saving for it all summer.” “We’re not a Burger King,” the man said. “You can’t always have it your way.”

The house smelled amazing. Ava's dad was busy in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. The refrigerator was full, too, with Morgan's mother's concoctions that she'd sent over with Morgan in plastic bins. She herself would arrive at 5:30 to set up the cotton candy machine, which was her special gift for the event. "Everyone likes cotton candy," she'd said. "It puts everyone in a good mood." The girls had not argued.

Anne responded slowly, "It was a terrible time for both of us. I would have preferred not to listen to the Admiral speculate on which Musgrove you would marry." Frederick chuckled. "Do I detect a bit of jealousy in your tone? I would relish in knowing so." "Then fancy yourself satisfied, Sir. I wanted you for myself, and as much as I esteem Louisa Musgrove, I could never picture you with her."

The desk was cigarette-scarred, because it came with the office. It had been the property of a skip-tracer named Otto Zelm. On a stakeout, Zelm fell asleep in his car, while smoking, thereby triggering the payoff of both life- and casualty-insurance policies, and freeing the lease on this furnished space.

Because drugs foil all efforts at self-improvement, Junior had no use for the cocaine and acid. He didn't dare sell them to recover his money; even five thousand dollars wasn't worth risking arrest. Instead, he gave the pharmaceuticals to a group of young boys playing basketball in a schoolyard, and wished them a Merry Christmas.

As for the Once all Powerful Conrad Blix, we donated him to the Hereford Museum, where he can still be seen to this day. His perfidious exploits are outlined for all to read. His lack of compassion, rampant greed, and murderous intent are often compared to that of his mad evil-genius grandfather, Blix the Hideously Barbarous. It’s what he would have wanted.

"Come here, child," said the king, and I approached cautiously. The last time we met he had me put in jail for daring to meddle in his plans to invade the Duchy of Brecon. I was released after two weeks of eating half-rations and sleeping under a single sheet in a damp cell without natural light. To anyone else it might have been unbearable, but after being brought up by the Blessed Ladies, I found it quite relaxing.