A Quote by Sylvia Day

I'm still not sure I didn't hallucinate the conversation while overdosing on his pheromones. — © Sylvia Day
I'm still not sure I didn't hallucinate the conversation while overdosing on his pheromones.
One can say that the disaffection is still a lingering naiveté about, not the place of poetry in the world, but - how to say this - the moral and intellectual presence of poets in the world. And while this may seem an old conversation to many poets who roll their eyes and say, "Here we go again about the function of poetry," I think that conversation, about poetry as an engaged art in a world that is full of regression or still lacking in progress, is still really not well-developed. It's almost an avoided conversation.
So I am praying while not knowing how to pray. I am resting while feeling restless, at peace while tempted, safe while still anxious, surrounded by a cloud of light while still in darkness, in love while still doubting.
My last conversation with my father was an argument we'd had. When I came to know of his hospitalisation, I'd lost him within seven hours. I still regret the last conversation with him.
I went through a phase in my 20s when I was overdosing on self-help books, so it was really refreshing to read 'The Alchemist' because it was a novel, but it still had the same wisdom, wasn't patronising and didn't tell you how you should live your life.
My heart really is about making sure that the conversation of Jesus Christ is something that can be a relevant conversation regardless of where culture finds itself.
I started to hallucinate and hear voices as clear as crystal. I heard my family in a casual familial conversation I heard Koran readings in a heavenly voice. I heard music from my country. Later on the guards used these hallucinations and started talking with funny voices through the plumbing, encouraging me to hurt the guard and plot an escape.
The Negro fought and bled and died in every war the white man waged, and he still won't give you justice. You nursed his baby and cleaned behind his wife, and he still won't give you freedom; you turned the other cheek while he lynched you and raped your women, but he still won't give you equality.
He found it so easy and so pleasant to cry that he didn’t try to stop for a while, until he realized he was forcing his sobs a little, exaggerating their depth with unnecessary shudders. … The whole point of crying is to quit before you coined it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted
Dinner 'conversation' at the Cohens' meant my sister, mom, and I relaying in brutal detail the day's events in a state of amplified hysteria, while my father listened to his own smooth jazz station in his head.
It's such an overused phrase: 'to be part of the conversation.' But it's true. It is nice to be part of the conversation - just be sure they are talking about you in the right way.
As one who sees in dreams and wakes to find the emotional impression of his vision still powerful while its parts fade from his mind - Just such am I, having lost nearly all the vision itself, while in my heart I feel the sweetness of it yet distill and fall.
The animal tends to eat with his stomach, and the man with his brain. When the animal's stomach is full, he stops eating, but the man is never sure when to stop. When he has eaten as much as his belly can take, he still feels empty, he still feels an urge for further gratification.
And make sure you tell daddy That I'm still his little girl Yeah I still feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be But don't forget to remember me
Some people are monogamous from the get-go while other date as many people as possible until you have "that conversation." Have the conversation at the start so that everyone is clear.
You have to learn to hallucinate.
God, it was good. Comforting and stimulating at the same time. Absolute world-class pheromones. I wished I could take his jacket home with me. Not him, just the jacket.
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