When male authors write love stories, the heroine tends to end up dead.
Pride had kept her running when love had betrayed her.
I finally figured out that not every crisis can be managed. As much as we want to keep ourselves safe, we can't protect ourselves from everything. If we want to embrace life, we also have to embrace chaos.
Did you eat my Twinkies?"She gulped. Keeping her eyes glued to the whip, she said, "Exactly what Twinkies are we talking about?""The Twinkies in the cupboard over the sink. The only Twinkies in the trailer." His fingers convulsed around the coils of leather.Oh, Lord, she thought. Flayed to death for a Twinkle."Well?""It, uh — it won't happen again, I promise you. But they didn't have any special marking on them, so there was no way I could tell they were yours." Her eyes remained riveted on the whip. "And normally I wouldn't have eaten them— I never eat junk food-—but I was hungry last night, and, well, when you think about it, you'll have to admit I did you a favor because they're clogging my arteries now instead of yours."His voice was quiet. Too quiet. In her mind she heard the howl of a rampaging Cossack baying at a Russian moon. "Don't touch my Twinkies. Ever. If you want Twinkies, buy your own.
Disagreements over money are the biggest cause of divorce."She waved her hand. "Absolutely no problem. Your money is our money. My money is my money." She wrote away."I should make you negotiate with Phoebe.
I happen to be immature, undisciplined, and self-centered, pretty much a little boy in a man's body, although I'd appreciate it if you didn't quote me on that.-Bobby Tom
You couldn't be satisfied with being an amateur asshole, could you, Jimbo! You had to go and turn pro on me!
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