His name's Nash." Aunt Val took a butter knife from the silverware drawer. "What year is he?" I groaned inwardly. "Senior." ...here… — Rachel Vincent Copy Share Image
She is a mortal danger without meaning to be one; she's exquisite without giving ita thought; shes a trap set by nature,… — Edmond Rostand Copy Share Image
It is how it has always been. We will accept the legacy of our ancestors,' Asha says, smiling, and in her smile… — Libba Bray Copy Share Image
Karen wasn't hard, she was soft, too soft. A soft touch. Her hair was soft, her smile was soft, her voice was… — Margaret Atwood Copy Share Image
It is impossible to encircle the hips of a girl with my right arm and hold her smile in my left hand,… — Albert Szent-Gyorgyi Copy Share Image
She is nine, beloved, as open-faced as the sky and as self-contained. I have watched her grow. As recently as three or… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Every day I hold my breath until I see her. Sometimes in class, sometimes in the hallway. I can't start breathing until… — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
When a new writer defends his "style," the teacher smiles (or cringes) because real style isn't an artifice. Real style - voice… — Bill Roorbach Copy Share Image
Ruth hadn't talked to my sister since before my death, and then it was only to excuse herself in the hallway at… — Alice Sebold Copy Share Image
