The Tip Of My Tongue Quotes

The city was new again, and newly dangerous, and I would walk the streets quickly, eyes averted from those of passersby, like a spy in the employ of lust and happiness, carrying the secret deep within me but always on the tip of my tongue. ~ Michael Chabon

It was on the tip of my tongue to say something snide, something that would hurt him, but somehow I couldn't. It would be like kicking Bambi in the teeth. ~ Marshall Thornton

You own me with whispers like poetry.
Your mouth is a melody I memorize. ~ The Civil Wars

What is the answer, Evan? Ms Granger asked.
Giraffe, I wanted to answer. It was on the tip of my tongue. Giraffe.
This was in math class, ~ David Levithan

His kiss sent sensation from the tip of my tongue all the way to my knees, and I let my weight fall against him as I met his probing tongue with my own. I wanted to be closer, to absorb all of him, to experience the shimmery feeling flowing through my veins for as long as possible. ~ Mia Sheridan

If I were two inches tall
I would sit on your shoulder all day
and nurture a relationship with your earlobe
my hands would be too small to effectively touch you
I would create empty space using the tip of my tongue
and feel afraid of every bone in my body
especially my sit bones ~ Mira Gonzalez

The man followed me. "I will wipe that which is displeasing to God off the face of the earth!" he boomed. "The ground will soak up your blood!"
I had at least two smart retorts to these sinister words on the tip of my tongue. (Soak up my blood? Oh, come off it, this is tiled floor.) But I was in such a panic that I couldn't get a word out. The man didn't look as if he'd appreciate my little joke at this moment anyway. In fact, he didn't look as if he had a sense of humor at all.
I took another step back and came up against a wall. The killer laughed out loud. Okay, so maybe he did have a sense of humor, but it wasn't much like mine. ~ Kerstin Gier

What, I wondered, did he mean by "society"? The plural of human beings? Where was the substance of this thing called "society"? I had spent my whole life thinkng that society must certainly be something powerful, harsh and severe, but to hear Horiki talk made the words "Don't you mean yourself?" come to the tip of my tongue. But I held the words back, reluctant to anger him.
'Society won't stand for it.'
'It's not society. You're the one who won't stand for it - right?'
'If you do such a thing society will make you suffer for it'
'It's not society. It's you, isn't it?'
'Before you know it, you'll be ostracized by society.'
'It's not society. You're going to do the ostracizing, aren't you?'
Words, words of every kind went flitting through my head. "Know thy particular fearsomeness, thy knavery, cunning and witchcraft!" What I said, however, as I wiped the perspiration from my face with a handkerchief was merely, "You've put me in a cold sweat!" I smiled.
From then on, however, I came to hold, almost as a philosophical conviction, the belief: What is society but an individual? ~ Osamu Dazai

I crossed oceans for you,
Turned over every rock,
Climbed the highest mountains,
Holding on to the words you said,
Reliving your touch inside my head,
The taste of you on the tip of my tongue,
Only to be left with you as only a fantasy inside my head. ~ LeAnne Mechelle

Even if I hadn't a gag of magic in my mouth, I wouldn't have dared spoken.

Tristan peered at me as though I were a curious insect. "She isn't mute, is she? That would be dreadful." He leaned back against the chair, his strange eyes fixed on me. "On second thought, perhaps it wouldn't be dreadful at all. I hardly need another woman in my life telling me what to do, and it would mean I could do all the talking and she the listening."

"Perhaps our mistake was in not finding you a deaf one," Marc said. "And her name is Cécile de Troyes, which you very well know, so quit pretending otherwise."

"Thank you, cousin. It was on the tip of my tongue. Now Mademoiselle de Troyes, tell us your thoughts. Astound us with your wit."

"Mmmmm hmmmm," I mumbled around the gag.

"Could you repeat that?" he said, coming closer. "Afraid I didn't quite catch the punch line." A slender finger caught me under the chin, lifting my face. He frowned. "Release her, Aunty."

"She tried to run."

A noise of exasperation passed his lips. "To where? There is nowhere for her to go, nowhere to hide. Binding her is unnecessary."

His flippancy made my heart sink – the very idea of my escape was so improbable to him that it was little more than a jest.

I felt power brush over my skin, and I dropped to numb feet. If not for Marc taking hold of my arm, I'd have sprawled across the carpets in front of them all. ~ Danielle L. Jensen

What do you have in mind after you graduate?"
What I always thought I had in mind was getting some big scholarship to graduate
school or a grant to study all over Europe, and then I thought I'd be a professor and write
books of poems or write books of poems and be an editor of some sort. Usually I had
these plans on the tip of my tongue.
"I don't really know," I heard myself say. I felt a deep shock, hearing myself say that, because the minute I said it, I knew it was true. ~ Sylvia Plath

I'm the bride," Rebecca said from the doorway,bringing the room to momentary silence.
Her remark brought every eye in the room to her, inculding Rupert's. "You forgot to say lucky bride, didn't you?" Rupert asked in a low voice as he stood beside her.
That was the usual response of a new bride, she supposed,but it definitely didn't apply to her. "No,I didn't," she whispered back with a false smile. "But I managed to withhold the 'unlucky' that was on the tip of my tongue. You can thank me later. ~ Johanna Lindsey

Why did my body have such a strange, visceral reaction to his presence? It felt almost like deja vu, like we have met before sometime, maybe once upon a dream. It's like he's just on the tip of my tongue, and I can't help but feel like if maybe I had seen his face properly, I would know who he is. ~ Alexis Abbott

I did not hesitate to put the question that came to the tip of my tongue. After all, if you want to know something the best way is to ask. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

You better not be ready to pass out," I told him. "You're way too big for me to pick up."
He cocked his head to the side and regarded me. "And what would you do, Rimmel?" The way he said my name brushed over me like a fine caress. "If I passed out right here?" He bent at the knees as he spoke so he could get closer to my eye level. I saw the playfulness in his depths. I knew he was probably drunk and wouldn't remember this tomorrow. I told myself beer made people do crazy things.
I lifted my chin and returned his gaze. "Well," I said, wetting my lips with the tip of my tongue. "I'd just have to run over you on my way out."
The whites of his eyes grew bigger when they widened in surprise. Then he threw back his head and laughed.
- Rimmel & Romeo ~ Cambria Hebert

Where is the sound?" someone hastily scribbled on the blackboard, and they all waited anxiously for the reply. Milo caught his breath, picked up the chalk, and explained simply, "It's on the tip of my tongue. ~ Norton Juster

Look what you have done
You're my favorite song
Always on the tip of my tongue ~ The Civil Wars

His ability to make me feel like this huge invisible void pisses me off. The way he pauses to chew on the tip of his pen pisses me off. Just last night, those same lips that are wrapped around the tip of his ugly red pen were making their way up my neck. ~ Colleen Hoover

Oh my God, this was an interrogation.
Grady picked up his bottle as he smiled at me. "We just met, but I think we're…going to be pretty good friends."
"Good friends?" Brock chuckled, and my hands tightened into fists. "Sounds about right. Anyway," he said in a way that dripped dismissiveness, "I don't want to keep you all from your dinner. Just wanted to stop by and say hi. I'll hit you up later," Brock said to Cam before focusing on me in that intense way of his that made you feel like there was no one else in the entire world but you.
He tapped the tip of my nose.
I blinked.
Brock grinned. "I'll see you again soon. ~ J. Lynn

Money, dished out in quantities fitting the context, is a social lubricant here. It eases passage even as it maintains hierarchies. Fifty naira for the man who helps you back out from the parking spot, two hundred naira for the police officer who stops you for no good reason in the dead of night, ten thousand for the clearing agent who helps you bring your imported crate through customs. For each transaction, there is a suitable amount that helps things on their way. No one else seems to worry, as I do, that the money demanded by someone whose finger hovers over the trigger of a AK-47 is less a tip than a ransom. I feel that my worrying about it is a luxury that few can afford. For many Nigerians, the giving and receiving of bribes, tips, extortion money, or alms
the categories are fluid
is not thought of in moral terms. It is seen either as a mild irritant or as an opportunity. It is a way of getting things done, neither more nor less than what money is there for. ~ Teju Cole

An ocean of ink in a single drop,
Trembling at the tip of my brush.
Poised above stark white paper,
A universe waits for existence. ~ Lao-Tzu

Jorek bent low, catching Akos's stomach with the tip of the practice knife.
"Not a good place to aim, Kuzar," Akos said. "In a real fight, I'd be wearing armor."
"I go by 'Jorek,' not 'Kuzar.' You've earned armor?"
"Yeah." Akos used his distraction against him, smacking the front of Jorek's throat with the flat of the weapon. Jorek choked, clapping his hands over his neck.
"All right, all right," he gasped, showing a palm. "That answers that question."
Akos backed up to the edge of the arena to put some space between them. "What question? About my armor?"
"No. Damn, that sucked." He massaged his throat. "I came here wondering how good you'd gotten, training with Cyra. My father said you didn't know hand from foot when he first met you."
Akos's anger was slow to come, like water turning to ice, but it had some heft to it, when it did. Like right then.
"Your father--" he stared, but Jorek interrupted.
"Is the worst kind of man, yes. That's what I want to talk to you about. ~ Veronica Roth

And yet, despite the multiplicity of times we've done it, it is still a funny, exultant, true thing - where for a short time you turn into something else and fly; where you stop fretting and wanting, and are simply alight with joy - and all while never venturing beyond the walls of your room. And I would put our continued success down to one simple thing. At the end of every tumbling session, one of us will turn to the other and say, "Thank you very much. That was very pleasant. Very pleasant indeed. My dear, I am much obliged to you."
Because at the end of the day, that is the hottest sex tip of all: gratitude. That you've found someone who wants to do that thing, with you, and no government has yet found a way to charge you VAT on it. You can set fire to the sky, and not be charged a penny.
Sometimes, it's great being a human. ~ Caitlin Moran

I spread my fingers outward,
letting the knife tip of my
middle finger rip the sky as
it tares a rift in the moon. ~ A.P. Sweet

Floating in the void free of gravity I made my way along the side of the ship. I listened to my own breaths. It was so dark and I was so weightless that I had to look for my bubbles to be sure which way was up. I swam backward a little away from the boat and into outer space and waved my arm through the water. Sure enough the phosphorescents appeared trailing my movement like the tail of a shooting star. I let myself tip upside down and floated there watching the gentle snowstorm marveling that a world of such strangeness existed here all the time just under the surface. ~ Elisabeth Eaves

When you think of two things to say, pick your favorite and only say that, my mother suggested once, as a tip to polite social behavior, and the rule was later modified to one in three. ~ Karen Joy Fowler

Got it. Look, the way I see it, two people walk in the restaurant, a Methodist and an atheist. The Methodist says, I'm not going to tip because I just came from church and I've already done my good deed for the day. The atheist says, I'm not tipping because life is meaningless and we're all just animals. To me, they're both members of the same religion, because they're doing the same thing. Whatever little story they tell themselves to justify it is irrelevant. It goes the other way, too - if a Muslim and a Scientologist come in and both leave a tip, they're on the same team. It doesn't matter to me if one did it because of Allah and the other was obeying the ghost of Tom Cruise, what matters is it resulted in doing the right thing. ~ David Wong

I was Uhtred, Lord of Bebbanburg, in my war-glory. The arm rings of fallen enemies glinted on my forearms, my shield was newly painted with the snarling wolf's head of my house, while another wolf, this one of silver, crouched on the crest of my polished helmet. My mail was tight, polished with sand, my sword belt and scabbard and bridle and saddle were studded with silver, there was a gold chain at my neck, my boots were panelled with silver, my drawn sword was grey with the whorls of its making running from the hilt to its hungry tip. I was the lord of war mounted on a great black horse, and together we would make panic. ~ Bernard Cornwell

Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire. ~ Roland Barthes

A lot of the names in Talon reference other people or events. For example Amelia, the giant Eagle, was a "tip of my hat" to the extraordinary aviator Amelia Earhart. Both love(d) to fly! ~ Christopher Gerard

I looked at Victor, my heart swelling from the emotion. "When I die, please do the same ceremony for me," I whispered, choking up. "This is the most captivating and emotional event I have ever been part of."
"I'm afraid you'll have to ask somebody else for that because if you die before me I won't survive it." He kissed the tip of my nose. I gazed at him with so much love that my heart almost burst out of my chest. ~ A.B. Whelan

I hope you don't mind that we're crashing," Wes says. "I'm trying to escape a hunting expedition. No joke. Dad thinks I'll be more of a man if I can blow a rabbit's head off. And my response? 'Sorry, Dad, but as tempting as it is to obliterate Peter Cottontail first thing on a Sunday morning, I promised Camelia I'd swing by her house, because she's been begging to abuse my body for weeks.'"
"And speaking of being delusional," Kimmie segues, "did I mention that my plan to reunite my parents was totally dumb?" She leads us into my bedroom and then closes the door behind her. "They could smell the setup before their water glasses were even filled."
"How's that?" I ask, taking a seat on my bed.
"The violinist I arranged to serenade them at the table might have been a tip-off," she begins. "Either that, or the wrist corsage I ordered for my mom. I handpicked the begonias and had the florist deliver it right to the table."
"Don't forget about the oyster appetizer you preordered for the occasion," Wes adds.
"Because, you know what they say about oysters, right?" An evil grin breaks out across her face. 'I know, I know." She sighs, before I can even say anything. "I may have gone a little overboard, but what can I say? I'm a dorkus extremus. Hence my outit du jour." She's wearing a Catholic schoolgirl's uniform, a pair of clunky black glasses (with the requisite amount of tape on the bridge), and a cone-shaped dunce cap.
"Yes, but you're a dorkus extremu ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Back in the days when I was a teenager,
Before I had status, and before I had a pager,
You could find The Abstract, listening to hip-hop,
My pops used to say it reminded him of be-bop.
I said, 'Well daddy don't you know that things go in cycles.
The way that Bobby Brown is just ampin' like Michael.
It's all expected, things are for the lookin',
If you got the money, Quest is for the bookin'. ~ Q-Tip

Let me give you a tip: if you're ever the victim of a terrible crime - like, say, your kid goes missing - and you see the cops consulting with a couple of white trash–looking dipshits in their late twenties, it's time to worry. It's not because John and I are incompetent at what we do - and I assure you, we are - but because you need to start asking yourself a very hard question. Not "Will I get my child back?" but "Do I want to get my child back? ~ David Wong

As much as Merthyr is a fighting town, these people also have hearts of gold. I worked all over Monmouth, and then the Aberfan disaster happened! That was a very emotional episode in my life. I never want to see anything like that ever again! In my opinion, the tip should have been moved well before the rain got in to it, and the old tip came rolling down the hillside on the school and the walls just caved in! ~ Stephen Richards

I forever you," he whispers, kissing the tip of my nose, and I think my heart might fly out of my chest. ~ Siobhan Davis

Debra pointed her purses lips in Max's direction. "Overnight guests are forbidden. No exceptions."
"Did you just have the audacity to judge me?" Gina blocked the nurse's route to the door. "Without knowing the least little thing about me?"
Debra lifted an eyebrow. "Well, I have seen your underwear, dear."
"Exactly," Gina said. "You've seen my underwear - not my personality profile, or my resume, or my college transcript, or - "
"If you think for one second," the nurse countered, "that anything about this situation is even remotely unique - "
"That's enough," Max said.
Gina, of course, ignored him. "I don't just think it, I know it," she said. "It's unique because I'm unique, because Max is unique, because - "
Debra finally laughed. "Oh, honey, you are so . . . young. Here's a tip I don't usually bother to tell girls like you: If I find one pair of panties on the floor, it's only a matter of time before I find another. And I hate to break it to you, hon, but the girl who comes out of the bathroom next time, well . . . She isn't going to be you."
"First of all," Gina said grimly, "I'm a woman, not a girl. And second, Grandma . . . You want to bet it's not going to be me?"
"I said, that's enough," Max repeated, and they both turned to look at him. About time. He was used to clearing his throat and having an entire room jump to full attention. "Ms. Forsythe, you took my blood pressure - you have the information you needed, good day to ~ Suzanne Brockmann

China during the Mao era was a poor country, but it had a strong public health network that provided free immunizations to its citizens. That was where I came in. In those days there were no disposable needles and syringes; we had to reuse ours again and again. Sterilization too was primitive: The needles and syringes would be washed, wrapped separately in gauze, and placed in aluminum lunch boxes laid in a huge wok on top of a briquette stove. Water was added to the wok, and the needles and syringes were then steamed for two hours, as you would steam buns.

On my first day of giving injections I went to a factory. The workers rolled up their sleeves and waited in line, baring their arms to me one after another – and offering up a tiny piece of red flesh, too. Because the needles had been used multiple times, almost every one of them had a barbed tip. You could stick a needle into someone's arm easily enough, but when you extracted it, you would pull out a tiny piece of flesh along with it. For the workers the pain was bearable, although they would grit their teeth or perhaps let out a groan or two. I paid them no mind, for the workers had had to put up with barbed needles year after year and should be used to it by now, I thought. But the next day, when I went to a kindergarten to give shot to children from the ages of three through six, it was a difference story. Every last one of them burst out weeping and wailing. Because their skin was so tender, the needles wo ~ Yu Hua

I know I'm being a pain in the neck, sir - not to mention an ache in the ass and a milky drip from the tip of a sore dick - but if it's all the same to you, my dear friend, I'd like to give my chance to the young fellow on his knees before you. Let him apologize, let him polish your boots with his clout until you are entirely satisfied, and let him go on living his life. ~ Stephen King

In other words, you'll pretend to be someone else in order to snag a husband."
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said defensively, "it's no different than what half the women in society do to catch a man. I don't want to waste my time in pointless flirtation when a little knowledge will improve my aim on the targets."
He flashed her a condescending smile.
"What is it?" she snapped.
"Only you would approach courtship as a marksman approaches a shooting match." He licked the tip of his pencil. "So who are these hapless targets?"
"The Earl of Devonmont, the Duke of Lyons, and Fernandez Valdez, the Viscount de Basto."
His jaw dropped. "Are you insane?"
"I know they're rather beyond my reach, but they seem to like my company-"
"I daresay they do!" He strode up to her, strangely angry. "The earl is a rakehell with a notorious reputation for trying to get beneath the skirts of every woman he meets. The duke's father was mad, and it's said to run in his family, which is why most women steer clear of him. And Basto is a Portuguese idiot who's too old for you and clearly trawling for some sweet young thing to nurse him in his declining years."
"How can you say such things? The only one you know personally is Lord Devonmont, and you barely know even him."
"I don't have to. Their reputations tell me they're utterly unacceptable."
Unacceptable? Three of the most eligible bachelors in London? Mr. Pinter was mad, not her. "Lord Devonmont is ~ Sabrina Jeffries

teeth coming down on the tip of my ~ Gillian Flynn

Och, Dani my darling, you're not giving me a single reason to wait for you to grow up. You're giving me a thousand reasons not to."
It's Christian! I'm so glad it's him, not one of the other princes! I turn around in his arms and tip my head back. "Hi, Christian!" I beam at him. He's hotter than the other princes. I'm glad I got him. I'll take the others, too, but I want him first. "I want to grow up. Now. Hurry. ~ Karen Marie Moning

I touch the tip of my finger to his lips. "There are secrets in here," I say. "I want them out."
He tries to bite my finger.
I steal it back. ~ Tahereh Mafi

There is a mirror across from me, and I check my reflection in it before heading home. Despite the bone-deep fatigue and the growing fear and frustration, I look ... fine. Da always said he'd teach me to play cards. Said I'd take the bank, the way things never reach my eyes. There should be something - a tell, a crease between my eyes, or a tightness in my jaw.
I'm too good at this.
Behind my reflection I see the painting of the sea, slanting as if the waves crashing on the rocks have hit with enough force to tip the picture. I turn and straighten it. The frame makes a faint rattling sound when I do. Everything in this place seems to be falling apart. ~ Victoria Schwab

I used to write exclusively with one particular Montblanc fountain pen, although lately I have had to use a roller-tip fountain pen, because I find it harder and harder to control the fine muscles of my right hand during prolonged periods of work. I buy boxes of Deluxe Uni-ball pens, use them until they start to drag, and then change. ~ Mark Helprin

I know there are things I haven't survived
I know there are people in this world who have had to work really hard to survive me,
I don't ever want to take that lightly
But I want the heavy to anchor me brave, to anchor me loving, to anchor me in something that will absolutely hold me to my word
When I tell Cupid I intend to keep walking out to the tip of his arrow,
to bend it back towards myself,
to aim for my goodness; 'til the muscle in my chest tears from the stretch of becoming. ~ Andrea Gibson

Resting beside her, he seemed to Ildiko a living statue, carved from dark granite into a form of supple elegance and power. He was beautiful, and the tremor change in her perception of him robbed her lungs of air.
He opened both eyes suddenly, making her jump. Two shimmering gold coins stared at her unblinking. "Good evening, wife," he said in a voice raspy with the remnants of sleep. A closed-lip smile curved his mouth upward and deepened the tiny lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes. "You're staring. Do I have a fly on my nose?"
Fighting down a blush at being caught gawking at her own husband, Ildiko lightly tapped the tip of his nose with one finger. "I was trying to find a way to kill it without punching you in the face. Lucky for you, it flew away. ~ Grace Draven

That cat doesn't have a lick of sense,' I said, sighing.
Well, honey, he's not right in the head,' Dad said, flipping his cigarette into the front yard.
I glared at him. 'And just what do you mean by that?'
Dad counted on his fingers. 'He's cross-eyed; he jumps out of trees after birds and then doesn't land on his feet; he sleeps with his head smashed up against the wall, and the tip of his tail is crooked.'
Oh yeah? Well, how about this: he once got locked in a basement by evil Petey Scroggs in the middle of January and survived on snow and little frozen mice. When I'm cold at night he sleeps right on my face. Of that whole litter of kittens he came out of he's the only one left. One of his brothers didn't even have a butthole.'
I stand corrected. PeeDink is a survivor. ~ Haven Kimmel

I grew up on the rough side of the tracks. If you looked like you were soft, you would be fodder for the wolves. I came up in my neighbourhood like, 'I'm just gonna be me,' and all the thugs just said, 'It's OK, he's special.' They knew I had the talent with the rhymes, so they kept me around. ~ Q-Tip

I'll lend you my confidence boosting CD set," she would say if I alluded to any concern or worry . . .

Every few weeks, she had a whole new paradigm for living, and I had to hear about it. "Get good at knowing when you're tired," she'd advised me once. "Too many women wear themselves thin these days." A lifestyle tip from Get the Most Out of Your Day, Ladies included the suggestion to preplan your outfits for the workweek on Sunday evenings.

"That way you won't be second-guessing yourself in the morning."

I really hated when she talked like that. ~ Ottessa Moshfegh

One of the things I really respect about Doug Moo is that he is constantly grappling with the text. Where he hears the text saying something which is not what his tradition would have said, he will go with the text. I won't always agree with his exegesis, but there is a relentless scholarly honesty about him which I really tip my hat off to. ~ N. T. Wright

Oh. My. God." he murmured as it all ended in a crescendo complete with beautiful sparks and all the bells and whistles of fantastic makeup sex.
Five full minutes later he propped up on a an elbow and kissed the tip of her nose. "Can we fight again tomorrow?"
She smiled up at him. "I was thinking of starting an argument right now. ~ Carolyn Brown

In conscious life, we achieve some sense of ourselves as reasonably unified, coherent selves, and without this action would be impossible. But all this is merely at the 'imaginary' level of the ego, which is no more than the tip of the iceberg of the human subject known to psychoanalysis. The ego is function or effect of a subject which is always dispersed, never identical with itself, strung out along the chains of the discourses which constitute it. There is a radical split between these two levels of being - a gap most dramatically exemplified by the act of referring to myself in a sentence. When I say 'Tomorrow I will mow the lawn,' the 'I' which I pronounce is an immediately intelligible, fairly stable point of reference which belies the murky depths of the 'I' which does the pronouncing. The former 'I' is known to linguistic theory as the 'subject of the enunciation', the topic designated by my sentence; the latter 'I', the one who speaks the sentence, is the 'subject of the enunciating', the subject of the actual act of speaking. In the process of speaking and writing, these two 'I's' seem to achieve a rough sort of unity; but this unity is of an imaginary kind. The 'subject of the enunciating', the actual speaking, writing human person, can never represent himself or herself fully in what is said: there is no sign which will, so to speak, sum up my entire being. I can only designate myself in language by a convenient pronoun. The pronoun 'I' stands in for the ever-e ~ Terry Eagleton

In my experience conservatives hate reporters mainly because they see us as phonies. We reject the idea that we belong to a class, or that we have our own tribal beliefs. Sometimes the hypocrisy is something they've seen - upper-class liberals, railing about racism in the heartland from the comfort of an all-white suburban town, where they occasionally tip a Puerto Rican gardener or hire a Republican plumber. But a lot of it has to do with approach and tone, the way we openly write for and celebrate professional-sect audiences, unlike the columnists of the past, the Mike Roykos or Jack Newfields, who were unembarrassed to write in the language of the working person. ~ Matt Taibbi

And if that hadn't been enough, the castle cat, obviously female and obviously in heat, had sashayed in, tail straight up and perkily curved at the tip, and wound her furry little self sinuously around Adam's ankles, purring herself into a state of drooling, slanty-eyed bliss. Mr. Black, my ass, she'd wanted to snap (and she liked cats, really she did; she'd certainly never wanted to kick one before, but please - even cats?), he's a fairy and I found him, so that makes him my fairy. Back off.
-Gabby's thought on Adam ~ Karen Marie Moning

Reaction time

Touch the underside of a penny you find
on the street
Doesn't feel any different unless you close your eyes
I can taste the copper in my mouth now
seeping from between my teeth
There's an explanation I'm sure
all this blood
it's from all the times I held the glass too close
And forgot to tip the dancer
A storm just passed
and like every other one that came before it
I was left unharmed
The dogs are all barking and the cats
hiding in the basement
And the sky is colored that bright yellow glow
makes it feel like you're wearing sunglasses
that you can't take off
Wherever you are now
it's not here
because I missed it
I missed the show
I missed the curtain call
And forever more
I am cursed
like a blanket without a body to keep warm ~ Dave Matthes

I can wade Grief
Whole Pools of it
I'm used to that
But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet
And I tip
drunken
Let no Pebble
smile
'Twas the New Liquor
That was all! ~ Emily Dickinson

Are you mine?" I asked, low knowing the answer already.
"Completely." His voice thrummed with conviction.
And oh, I liked it.
"So I may do anything I wish with you?"
"Anything."
I didn't need his invitation, of course. He belonged to me, like everything in Sheol, but there was more pleasure in a willing slave. I drew my athame and took his hand. He shuddered at my touch because I put a thread of power in it, pulled it through him in a flicker of the darkest pleasure. Soon enough he'd beg for this, unable to perform with anyone else. I knew how to enthrall my lovers. With a faint smile, I pricked the tip of his finger. Not as much pain as he expected, I think, but I drew blood. His gasp aroused me. His blood welled like a crimson jewel and I took his fingertip between my lips, tasting him. Learning his secrets. ~ Ann Aguirre

Again And Again And Again

You said the anger would come back

just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not

like. It is a mask I try on.

I migrate toward it and its frog

sits on my lips and defecates.

It is old. It is also a pauper.

I have tried to keep it on a diet.

I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear

like a blood clot. I have

sewn it over my left breast.

I have made a vocation of it.

Lust has taken plant in it

and I have placed you and your

child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous

and the milk tip is brimming

and each machine is working

and I will kiss you when

I cut up one dozen new men

and you will die somewhat,

again and again. ~ Anne Sexton