If there is no struggle, there is no progress.
Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell,' Holly advised him. 'That was Doc's mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky." "She's drunk," Joe Bell informed me. "Moderately," Holly confessed....Holly lifted her martini. "Let's wish the Doc luck, too," she said, touching her glass against mine. "Good luck: and believe me, dearest Doc -- it's better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.
It's difficult to see the glass ceiling because it's made of glass. Virtually invisible. What we need is for more birds to fly above it and shit all over it, so we can see it properly.
Sometimes glass glitters more than diamonds because it has more to prove.
His words are like the sound of a needle dragging across a record. A sinking, sickening feeling washes over me. This is why you should never, ever get your hopes up. This is why you should see the glass as half empty. So, when the whole things spills, you aren't as devastated.
Asshole.†“Just for that, I expect you to wrap that dirty mouth of yours around my cock tonight.†He narrowed his eyes on me. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me in a fancy restaurant where anyone might overhear. “Are you kidding?†“Babe,†he gave me a look that suggested I was missing the obvious, “I never kid about blowjobs.†Our waiter had descended on us just in time to hear those romantic words and his rosy cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “Ready to order?†he croaked out.“Yes,†Braden answered, obviously uncaring he’d been overhead. “I’ll have the steak, medium-rare.†He smiled softly at me. “What are you having?†He took a swig of water. He thought he was so cool and funny. “Apparently sausage.†Braden choked on the water, coughing into his fists, his eyes bright with mirth as he put his glass back on the table. “Are you okay, sir?†The waiter asked anxiously. “I’m fine, I’m fine.
There are, it has been said, two types of people in the world. There are those who, when presented with a glass that is exactly half full, say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty. The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: What's up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don't think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass!
The secret is,†I say, whispering right into his ear, “that yours was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.†“But I’ve never kissed you,†he whispers back. Around us the rain sounds like falling glass. “Not since third grade, anyway.†I smile, but I’m not sure if he can see it. “Better get started, then,†I say, “because I don’t have much time.
Method acting? There are quite a few methods. Mine involves a lot of talent, a glass and some cracked ice.
There's a strange sort of quiet when you're dying. It's as if you're in a glass room, and the walls keep getting thicker and thicker.