"Mais ce n'est que depuis peu que, par exemple, quand son genou se cogne contre le mien sous la table étroite d'un pub, je me surprends à chercher mes mots. Un léger changement de gravité et, brusquement, tous les astres de ma galaxie se désalignent, les planètes sorties de leur orbite, et je me retrouve à chanceler sans plan ni cap, sur le territoire déroutant des sentiments amoureux entre amis."
“I’m sorry,” she says. “What for?” “You’ve had a rough go.” “Everyone has a rough go. I’ve had it far easier than most people.” “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean your feelings matter less.”
If the Good Lord didn't want men to play with themselves, we'd have hooks for hands.
“And then Jesus says, 'Well, watch this' - "
"Really? Well, watch this?"
"That's biblical language."
"If your Bible is written by Henry Montague.”
I swear, you would play the coquette with a well-upholstered sofa."
"First, I would not. And second, how handsome is this sofa?
It's beginning to feel like he's shuffling his way through the seven deadly sins, in ascending order of my favourites.
The great tragic love story of Percy and me is neither great nor truly a love story, and is tragic only for its single-sidedness. It is also not an epic monolith that has plagued me since boyhood, as might be expected. Rather, it is simply the tale of how two people can be important to each other their whole lives, and then, one morning, quite without meaning to, one of them wakes to find that importance has been magnified into a sudden and intense desire to put his tongue in the other's mouth.
A long, slow slide, then a sudden impact.
Felicy looks over at me and scowls. "What's that face for ?"
"What face ?"
"You look put out."
Just thinking about all that blood." I nearly shudder. "Doesn't it make you a bit squeamish ?"
"Ladies haven't the luxury of being squeamish about blood,'" she replies, and Percy and I go fantastically red in unisson.
God bless the book people for their boundless knowledge absorbed from having words instead of friends.
“There is nothing good about watching another man claim your ship because your skin is too dark to do it yourself," he says, each word a glancing wound. "So in future, you needn't demand apologies on my behalf.”
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