It was a gusty day, and from the windows of Caroline's top-floor flat, only the sky was visible with its little hurrying clouds. It was a day when being indoors was meaningful, wasting an afternoon in superior confidences with a friend before the two-barred electric heater.
now it’s computers and more computersand soon everybody will have one,3-year-olds will have computersand everybody will know everythingabout everybody elselong before they meet them.nobody will want to meet anybodyelse ever againand everybody will bea recluselike I am now.
'Didn't realize Matty was so scary,' Chris said. 'She's maybe five two and can't make it up a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing. But if I really pissed her off, she might poison my coffee.' 'Sounds like someone I'd like to meet.'
You don’t have to sleep with guys,” I whispered, “to make them like you.”Kya stared at me for a moment with heavy eyelids. “You don’t get it, do you, Gracie? I sleep with them so they won’t like me.” My heart broke for her a little more.
Handy Hint! When your friend talks about having 'a sweep', do not then visualise Dick van Dyke in his cheeky chappy chimney sweeper outfit heading up into her uterus to do a rendition of 'Step in Time'. Laughter is the inappropriate response to your friend's news.
Gracious acceptance is an art - an art which most never bother to cultivate. We think that we have to learn how to give, but we forget about accepting things, which can be much harder than giving.... Accepting another person's gift is allowing him to express his feelings for you.
As we reached the wooded hill that led to the pipe, Cheater said, "Uh-oh.""What's wrong?" I asked."Is anyone here thinking about kicking the crap out of me?" he asked."Not me," I said."Me either," Lucky said."Maybe tomorrow," Flinch told him. "But not at the moment." hidden talents
I started to walk away, but she [Clarisse] called out, "Percy?""Yeah?""When you, uh, had that vision about your friends...""You were one of them," I promised, "Just don't tell anybody, okay? Or I'de have to kill you."A faint smile flickered across her face "See you later.""See you
I think we could be friends," he said, falling into step with her. "It's perfect because I wouldn't fall in love with you, like I do with the mermaids. Girls always seem so exotic. But it would be okay with you, because you're more like...you know. Not like a girl." He shrugged.
I started to think of friends I could lean on for some help, but, as always happened when I attempted this kind of social audit, I realised that far too many of them were abroad, dead, married to people who disapproved of me, or weren't really my friends, now that I came to think of it.
I just could not leave the people who ever fill my heart. But if people leave, well, like today myself. That's why I'm afraid to get acquainted with a lot of people because I'm afraid of losing a lot of people too. In reality I always get acquainted with many people, how is this?
Every gathering has its moment. As an adult, I distract myself by trying to identify it, dreading the inevitable downswing that is sure to follow. The guests will repeat themselves one too many times, or you'll run out of dope or liquor and realize that it was all you ever had in common.
I think, yes, a man and a woman can be good friends, but it isn't easy for them being as no one else will suppose that that is what they are. And then there's the problem of being different sexes. I think if they are good friends, then whatever else they are - or are not - is better.
Oh we'll know each other for forever' Bix said. 'The days of losing touch are almost gone.' 'What does that mean? ' Drew asks.'We're going to meet again in a different place,' Bix said. 'Everyone we've lost, we'll find. Or they'll find us.
Best Friends. And I thought of what she had done all the millions of times I cried to her, collapsing at even the slightest wounding of my heart or pride. So I reached over and pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her, and held my best friend close, returning so many favors all at once....
