A Quote by Martin Amis
The only writer who gives me unfeigned pleasure is P.G. Wodehouse. And even him I find a bit heavy. He takes a lot out of me. Scratching my hair, with soft whistles, with lips aquiver, I frown over Sunset at Blandings.
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You’ve claimed me, little firecracker. You kicked a pair of two hundred pound men’s asses. I will never get over that. You kicked my whores out. Pete told me. You staked your claim on me, even before you realized I’d staked mine already.” He fists my hair and pulls me close to his lips. “I’m yours now … Even if I screw this up, I’ll still be your screw-up.
Why will we struggle to attain, and strive,
When all we gain is but an empty dream?--
Better, unto my thinking, doth it seem
To end it all and let who will survive;
To find at last all beauty is but dust;
That love and sorrow are the very same;
That joy is only suffering's sweeter name;
And sense is but the synonym of lust.
Far better, yea, to me it seems to die;
To set glad lips against the lips of Death--
The only thing God gives that comforteth,
The only thing we do not find a lie.
My heart is heavy, she thought. It’s not just a saying. It is what is—heavy, a great stone lodged in my breast, pressing down my whole being. How can I even stand straight and look out upon the world? I am doubled over into myself and, for all the weight, find only emptiness.
I kissed him, trying to bring him back. I kissed him and let my lips rest against his so that our breath mingled and the tears from my eyes became salt on his skin, and I told myself that, somewhere, tiny particles of him would become tiny particles of me, ingested, swallowed, alive, perpetual. I wanted to press every bit of me against him. I wanted to will something into him. I wanted to give him every bit of life I felt and force him to live.
I had a very well-respected writer ask me point blank to my face whether it actually mattered to me. Now, without wanting to reach out and just strangle him or send a few F-bombs his way, I just bit my tongue, told him he offended me and walked away.
Karen wasn't hard, she was soft, too soft. A soft touch. Her hair was soft, her smile was soft, her voice was soft. She was so soft there was no resistance. Hard things sank into her, they went right through her, and if she made a real effort, out the other side. Then she didn't have to see them or hear them, or even touch them.
With a gentle pressure, our lips met. His hands slipped more firmly about me, and I held myself back, not afraid, but wanting to feel everything slowly as I leaned in, tasting the wine on him, feeling the warmth of his body pressing into mine, breathing in our scents that were mingling and changing with the warmth. My hands rose to find his hair, and I relaxed into him as the silky strands brushed through my fingers. I wanted more, and I leaned into him as our lips moved against each other.
The point is that when I see a sunset or a waterfall or something, for a split second it's so great, because for a little bit I'm out of my brain, and it's got nothing to do with me. I'm not trying to figure it out, you know what I mean? And I wonder if I can somehow find a way to maintain that mind stillness.
I see things in hardcopy that I miss if I only see words on screen. I do get sick of the words, but I like to see everything spread out because I get a sense of scale that is missing from screen. Going over each sentence many, many, many times gives me incredible intimacy with sentences, especially their rhythm. The rhythm and music of words matter a lot to me and it only takes one misplaced word to spoil the music.
For me, success isn't even about money. It's about getting to do what you love and supporting yourself. Everything that comes after that is bonus, unless your only goal is to be rich. If that's your goal, you're going to find out that once you have a little bit, you want a lot. Then once you have a lot, you want a lot more.
rosto cupped laddybuck in one hand and grabed the back of my neck with the other pulling me in and kissing me right on the mouth. i should have punched him but his lips were soft and sweet. i will punch him next time. -beka after she realizes that rosto the piper is the new rouge
It's deeper than the music when it comes to me and Mustard. He's like a big brother, and I'm so thankful to have a mentor like him to advise me. Even though he gives me a lot of creative control, I always go to him like, 'Do you like this?' It's so cool that it's always a collaborative effort. He never makes me feel pressured or anything.
Fernando Llorente has been very important for me. He gives me a lot of advice; we talk a lot. I will thank Fernando for my entire life because it's hard to find people like him, especially in the world of football.
I just have one of those faces. People come up to me and say, 'What's wrong?' Nothing. 'Well, it takes more energy to frown than it does to smile.' Yeah, you know it takes more energy to point that out than it does to leave me alone?
Even though she may not be a physical presence, for me RuPaul is an aspirational presence. Ru is out there doing her job - being RuPaul. That takes a lot of time and a lot of commitment. Besides, I don't need RuPaul standing over my shoulder telling me 'Good Job.'
It sometimes takes me a fortnight to unpack. I find it so depressing. A bit of sand will come out of a shoe and it'll just take me back to where we were: lovely and relaxed on holiday.
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