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Sleeping on it didn't make accepting it any easier. It seemed like a really bad dream.
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The Sunflow'r, thinking 'twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t' excuse the blame; It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head.
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Speaking of sleeping bags, has anything ever had a less creative name?
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A poet is a verb that blossoms light in gardens of dawn, or sometimes midnight.
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Fertility of the soil is the future of civilization.
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She frowned."You're not very friendly." I let out a short laugh."What?I'm not friendly to a ghost who floats into my house and starts touching me?Well,excuse my rudeness but this is a little disturbing.
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When I got inside, I just sort of stood there. There's nothing stranger than the smell of someone else's house. The scent goes right to your stomach. Mary's house smelled like lemon furniture polish and oatmeal cookies and logs in a fireplace. For some reason it made me want to curl up in the fetal position. I could have slept right there on their kitchen table.
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I think when I bought a house, that's when I thought I felt like that's a grown up thing to do.
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I've always liked older ladies, ever since my mother would have B'nai B'rith at our house.
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The house has to please everyone, contrary to the work of art which does not. The work is a private matter for the artist. The house is not.
