A sudden dart when a little over a hundred feet from the end of the track, or a little over 120 feet from the point at which it rose into the air, ended the flight.
It means black kitten," I said with my pulse almost even again. Ares studied me. "And you're ok with them calling you their black kitten?" "They're wererats, Ares," I said. He frowned at me. "They're not calling me their little black rat. Think it through.
News of Daniel's disappearance does not alarm me as it might have done a week ago. Given recent events, very little alarms me as it might have done a week ago. I feel as if my supply of alarm has been exhausted, at least temporarily.
When I was little, I used to have nightmares about Godzilla walking out of the Great South Bay, because we had a fire alarm out where we lived that sounded just like his feet.
With a chemical alarm, you're going to build one that is oversensitive because you would rather the alarm go off and give you a false alarm than to err on the other side
With a chemical alarm, you're going to build one that is oversensitive because you would rather the alarm go off and give you a false alarm than to err on the other side.
My feet are killing me." "I knew somebody who had feet like that. They'd walk all over him. Archie Kashanian was his name. He used to wake up with footprints all over his chest, all over his face. It was the death of him, finally.
Have you ever noticed the softness of a kitten's feet? - they are like raspberries to hold in one's hand.
Luscious feet that listened to the soil and stole its secrets.
All my life I have battled the alarm clock, pummeling the snooze button over and over with mounting self-loathing until the shame is finally strong enough to lever me upright.
It is quite widely known that I like shoes. This is not something that defines me as either a woman or a politician, but it has come to define me in the eyes of the newspapers. I wore a pair of leopard-print kitten heels to a Conservative Party Conference a few years ago and the papers have continued to focus on my feet ever since.
Tell me, Kitten.” That deep, smooth voice brushed over me like a physical caress. “Shall I leave now, or wait until later?
He gave the body a final kick and then turned to face me. “You and I need to talk, Kitten.” “Now?” I asked in disbelief, gesturing to the dead vampire near his feet. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere, so yeah. Now.
Well, the way I see it, there are three possibilities: One, you stole it; two, you stole it; or three, you stole it!
I don't try to hit the ball 500 feet. It looks good when you hit it 500 feet, but as long as it goes over the fence, it's a home run. When you swing hard, it takes a little bit of recognition away from you. The power you're trying to increase - you're not all the way through it with your vision.
I stress, worry, get nervous and I start to over-think about a lot of things, but I think a little bit of doubt and nervousness always keeps me on my feet.