Grief shared was grief lessened.
When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.
You mean you have to be epic already, for it to make you more epic?
If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?
His heavy-lidded gaze reflected a languor that had nothing to do with having just awakened, and there was no doubt what was on his mind. But this is no safe cherry picker, Gwen thought, growing more concerned by the moment. This man looks like a cherry tree chopper-downer.
The power of thought is far greater than most people ever realize.