Whenever he looks at me with those big brown eyes, I feel like giving him a nut,” she said. She even started calling the squirrels running around in the park Mr. Whitmans.

Time ain’t nothing, but time. It’s a verse with no rhyme, And it all come down to you. «El tiempo solo es tiempo. Es un verso sin rima, y todo depende de ti.»

The others can’t see me,” said the little ghost. “I know,” I said. “My name’s Gwyneth. What’s yours?” “Dr. White to you,” said Dr. White. “I’m Robert,” said the ghost. “That’s a very nice name,” I said. “Thank you,” said Dr. White. “I’ll return the compliment by saying you have very nice veins.

The lion-as proud as the diamond bright, Though the spell may be clouding that radiant light-in the death of the sun what's amiss will then mend, while the raven is dying discloses the end.

He took a hairpin out of my untidy hair (by now my complicated arrangement of ringlets must have looked as if a couple of birds had been nesting there); he took a strand of it and wound it around his finger. With his other hand he began stroking my face, and then he bent down and kissed me again, this time very cautiously. I closed my eyes - and the same thing happened as before: my brain suffered that delicious break in transmission.

You were talking to that niche in the wall again, Gwyneth. I saw you." "Yes, but it's my favorite bit of wall, Gordon. I'd hurt its feelings if I didn't stop and talk to it.

True love knows no constraints, no locks or bars. Past every obstacle it makes its way. It spreads it wings to soar toward the stars, No earthly power will make it stop or stay.