Way You Turn Me On Quotes

Calvin sits up, jerking his guitar to stand on one thigh. "Mr. Okai." He swallows. "I didn't realize you were standing there."

"My niece tells me your name is Calvin."

Calvin looks between the two of us, working this out. Robert, with his smooth dark skin and meticulously short hair. Me: pale and freckled with a chaotic, weedy bun on top of my head.

Robert reaches out a hand, and Calvin immediately takes it, standing. "Yes. Calvin McLoughlin."

This makes my uncle laugh, and the boom of it eases the line of Calvin's shoulders. "That's a pretty Irish name for someone with such a good tan."

"My mam is Greek," he explains, and then looks back and forth between me and Robert again, as if asking a question of his own.

Robert tilts his head to me, releasing Calvin's hand and saying in turn, "I married her uncle."

Calvin smiles, quietly saying, "Ah. ~ Christina Lauren

Cooking. Reading. Is there anything you can't do?"
Belle grabbed his big paw and shoved it into the water as well. "Oh yes, I'm a veritable domestic demigoddess," she said archly. "You should see me turn invisible and walk on water. ~ Liz Braswell

Was it a convent you escaped from, Miss Turner?" He turned the boat with a deft pull on one oar.
"Escaped?" Her heart knocked against her hidden purse. "I'm a governess, I told you. I'm not running away, from a convent or anywhere else. Why would you ask that?"
He chuckled. "Because you're staring at me as though you've never seen a man before."
Sophia's cheeks burned. She was staring. Worse, now she found herself powerless to turn away. What with the murky shadows of the tavern and the confusion of the quay, not to mention her own discomposure, she hadn't taken a good, clear look at his eyes until this moment.
They defied her mental palette utterly.
The pupils were ringed with a thin line of blue. Darker than Prussian, yet lighter than indigo. Perhaps matching that dearest of pigments-the one even her father's generous allowance did not permit-ultramarine. Yet within that blue circumference shifted a changing sea of color-green one moment, gray the next…in the shadow of a half-blink, hinting at blue.
He laughed again, and flinty sparks of amusement lit them.
Yes, she was still staring.
Forcing her gaze to the side, she saw their rowboat nearing the scraped hull of a ship. She cleared her throat and tasted brine. "Forgive me, Mr. Grayson. I'm only trying to make you out. I understood you to be the ship's captain."
"Well," he said, grasping a rope thrown down to him and securing it to the boat, "now you know I'm not."
"Might I ~ Tessa Dare

But I think I want to become part of Scotland when I die. In a coffin, you just turn to dust, so I would prefer to be buried in a wicker casket, or in a sheet like the Africans do, so that I actually become part of the earth. I would like a tree to be planted on top of me.

And I told my wife Pamela a long time ago the epitaph that I want on my gravestone: Jesus Christ, is that the time already?
Failing that, I would like an epitaph in writing so tiny that visitors would have to inch right next to my gravestone to read it. It would say: You're standing on my balls. ~ Billy Connolly

We walked the circuit, passing the food stands frying funnel cakes and burgers, and the game booths, ceilings bristling with giant, multicolored stuffed animals. I paused in front of the crossbow game.
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. "Want me to win you a stuffed bunny?"
"Ha." I rubbed my hands together. "I'll win my own stuffed bunny, thanks very much."
Nicholas passed the attendant a few dollars to pay for my turn. "I guess it's nice to see you use your legendary aim for something other than breaking my nose," he teased.
"The night is young," I snapped back, lifting the plastic crossbow. "This is a pathetic weapon," I muttered. "I couldn't stake an undead mouse with this thing."
"It's supposed to be a game, remember?" he whispered, laughter in his dark voice.
I fired my three shots, all crowding into the bull's-eye. With a triumphantly smug toss of my head, I looked at the openmouthed attendant. "I want the purple bunny."
He tugged it down and passed it over to me. I slipped it into my bag while Nicholas shook his head.
"Dump this loser, Lucy, and run away with me. You'll never have to win your own cross-eyed bunny again."
I grinned up at Nicholas's brother Quinn, who was smiling his charming smile, his arm draping casually over my shoulder. Hunter rolled her eyes at me from my other side.
"No way," I said. "My aim's better than yours. Plus, your girlfriend can hurt me."
"Ooh," Quinn said, winking. "Catfight. Hot." He grinn ~ Alyxandra Harvey

The Defendant: I am pleading guilty your honors but I'm doing it because I think it would be a waste of money to have a trial over five dollars worth of crack. What I really need is a drug program because I want to turn my life around and the only reason I was doing what I was doing on the street was to support my habit. The habit has to be fed your honors as you know and I believe in working for my money. I could be out there robbing people but I'm not and I've always worked even though I am disabled. And not always at this your honors, I used to be a mail carrier back in the day but then I started using drugs and that was all I wanted to do. So I'm taking this plea to save the city of New York and the taxpayers money because I can't believe that the DA, who I can see is a very tall man, would take to trial a case involving five dollars worth of crack, especially knowing how much a trial of that nature would cost. But I still think that I should get a chance to do a drug program because I've never been given that chance in any of my cases and the money that will be spent keeping me in jail could be spent addressing my real problem which is that I like, no need, to smoke crack every day and every chance I get, and if I have to point people to somebody who's selling the stuff so I can get one dollar and eventually save up enough to buy a vial then smoke it immediately and start saving up for my next one that I'll gladly do that, and I'll do it even though I know it could land ~ Sergio De La Pava

But 'why then publish?' There are no rewards
Of fame or profit when the world grows weary.
I ask in turn why do you play at cards?
Why drink? Why read? To make some hour less dreary.
It occupies me to turn back regards
On what I've seen or pondered, sad or cheery,
And what I write I cast upon the stream
To swim or sink. I have had at least my dream. ~ George Gordon Byron

You want it, boy?" He pulled his prick out of his jeans.
"God, yes. That's why I'm here."
"Good." He left his jeans open, left his prick hard and pushing out. "Come on. Shower."
"Turn around." He wanted to see it. Griff went a deep red, but the man turned to show the weird, stylized whip branded into one ass cheek. Groaning, Brian reached out and touched it, traced it with his fingers. He'd done that. He'd marked his boy.
"You still clean?" Brian kept rubbing his prick back and forth across Griff's hole.
"I am. I couldn't ... I couldn't get it up with anyone else."
"Good." He grabbed the shampoo and poured it over his fingers.
"Was not. You fucked me up"
"We fucked each other up." He was not in this alone.
He couldn't wait to be inside Griff again. His wild, desperate baby boy. His fingers traced the brand on Griff's ass. His. All fucking his. Marked permanently. And Griff had let him do it. The man knew it was true. ~ Sean Michael

I thought you were asleep."

"It doesn't matter, you still thought
those things." Hurt crossed his eyes again. "It's hard enough having your own
mother hate you enough to call the cops on you," he said, dropping the now for
the first time, "but to have the girl who made you fall for her say I wasn't
worth it because I was abnormal, that I was a worse choice than someone
like Tate, and you think I'm cruel? I have nothing
on you, Kady." He went to turn, but I stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"You fell for me?" I asked, shocked by his
words.

He looked away, his jaw tightening,
causing the muscles in his neck to work overtime.

I swallowed, knowing this was it. I had to
say it too, even if he shot me down. "I fell for you, too. ~ Marita A. Hansen

Come over early tomorrow morning," Marlboro Man asked over the phone one night. "We're gathering cattle, and I want you to meet my mom and dad."
"Oh, okay," I agreed, wondering to myself why we couldn't just remain in our own isolated, romantic world. And the truth was, I wasn't ready to meet his parents yet. I still hadn't successfully divorced myself from California J's dear, dear folks. They'd been so wonderful to me during my years of dating their son and had become the California version of my parents, my home away from home. I hated that our relationship couldn't continue despite, oh, the minor detail of my breaking up with their son. And already? Another set of parents? I wasn't ready.
"What time do you want me there?" I asked. I'd do anything for Marlboro Man.
"Can you be here around five?" he asked.
"In the evening…right?" I responded, hopeful.
He chuckled. Oh, no. This was going to turn out badly for me. "Um…no," he said. "That would be five A.M."
I sighed. To arrive at his ranch at 5:00 A.M. would mean my rising by 4:00 A.M.--before 4:00 A.M. if I wanted to shower and make myself presentable. This meant it would still be dark outside, which was completely offensive and unacceptable. There's no way. I'd have to tell him no.
"Okay--no problem!" I responded. I clutched my stomach in pain.
Chuckling again, he teased, "I can come pick you up if you need me to. Then you can sleep all the way back to the ranch."
"Are you kiddin ~ Ree Drummond

Hope you got your things together.'" I sang, stabbing a pillow with my spear. Feathers exploded into the air. "'Hope you are quite prepared to die!'" I spun in a dazzling whirl of lights, landed a killer back-kick on a phantom Shade, and simultaneously punched the magazine rack. "'Looks like we're in for nasty weather!'" I took a swan dive at a short, imaginary Shade, lunged up at a taller one -
- and froze.
Barrons stood inside the front door, dripping cool-world elegance.
I hadn't heard him come in over the music. He was leaning, shoulder against the wall, arms folded, watching me.
"'One eye is taken for an eye . . .'" I trailed off, deflating. I didn't need a mirror to know how stupid I looked. I regarded him sourly for a moment, then moved for the sound dock to turn it off. When I heard a choked sound behind me I spun, and shot him a hostile glare. He wore his usual expression of arrogance and boredom. I resumed my path for the sound dock, and heard it again. This time when I turned back, the corners of his mouth were twitching. I stared at him until they stopped.
I'd reached the sound dock, and just turned it off, when he exploded.
I whirled. "I didn't look that funny," I snapped.
His shoulders shook.
"Oh, come on! Stop it!"
He cleared his throat and stopped laughing. Then his gaze took a quick dart upward, fixed on my blazing MacHalo, and he lost it again. I don't know, maybe it was the brackets sticking out from the sides. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Growing up I was afraid of heights; if I looked down I got instantly queasy. So what did I decide to do a few years ago? Go skydiving with my sisters. I stood on the ground, waiting for my turn, watching them jump out of a small plane strapped to some dude's back. All I could see were these tiny blond dots floating in the air. Then one of the instructors (thankfully he was on his own and not tied to a Hough!) lost control of his chute. It got twisted and he began to spiral toward the ground. Everyone watching below gasped; he was plunging to his death. At the very last second, he pulled his auxiliary chute and glided down to safety.
After landing, he walked right over to me. "Phew, that was a close one. Okay, Derek, you're up next. You're comin' with me."
I felt my stomach leap into my throat. Are you serious? You're a dead man walking and you want me to go up with you? Then reason kicked in: What was the likelihood lightning would strike twice and his chute would fail again? And if it did, clearly the guy knew how to get out of trouble.
"Um, okay…I guess." I read the disclaimer and signed it. In a nutshell, it said, "If you die, we're not responsible." Thanks a lot. ~ Derek Hough

How're your children, Mrs. Phelps?' he asked.
'You know I haven't any! No one in his right mind, the good Lord knows, would have children!' said Mrs. Phelps, not quite sure why she was angry with this man.
'I wouldn't say that,' said Mrs. Bowles. 'I've had TWO children by Caesarian section. No use going through all that agony for a baby. The world must reproduce, you know, the race must go on. Besides, they sometimes look just like you, and that's nice. Two Caesarians turned the trick, yes, sir. Oh, my doctor said, Caesarians aren't necessary; you've got the hips for it, everything's normal, but I INSISTED.'
'Caesarians or not, children are ruinous; you're out of your mind,' said Mrs. Phelps.
'I plunk the children in school nine days out of ten. I put up with them when they come home three days a month; it's not bad at all. You heave them into the 'parlor' and turn the switch. It's like washing clothes: stuff laundry in and slam the lid.' Mrs. Bowles tittered. 'They'd just as soon kick as kiss me. Thank God, I can kick back! ~ Ray Bradbury

Then there's the intelligence that practically radiates from you. Did I ever tell you smart women seriously turn me on?" His thumbs began caressing her cheeks and he bent to whisper close to her ear. "You're a walking contradiction, Hayden. Prim and proper one moment, wild and uninhibited the next. And the more I get to know you, the more I like what I find. ~ Elle Kennedy

Does it scare you?" said Clare. "Living in a house with guns?"
Hunter smiled. "It's not like I wake up in the middle of the night to find them staring down at me."
"Shut up." She gave him a light shove. "No, I mean, are you ever worried you'll accidentally get shot?"
"You mean, when I catch the assault rifle raiding the refrigerator? Like maybe it'll turn on me?"
Her breath caught again. "You have an assault rifle in your house?"
"Sure. It's partial to lime Jell-O. ~ Brigid Kemmerer

What keeps this industry challenging as an actor is that you never know how something will turn out. The ups and downs are constant. You're never just smoothly sailing along. You're always going to be on loose footing. That's what ultimately now I expect and accept and that doesn't scare me as much. ~ Elisabeth Shue

When I turn in my list, obviously every record was important to me. I didn't just put records on there to put records on there. I was excited that "All I Do Is Win" could go on there because you hear it at the end of the game and that represents victory. That's undeniable. You can't hate on that, it's impossible. ~ DJ Khaled

Quitting, for me, means not giving up, but moving on; changing direction not because something doesn't agree with you, but because you don't agree with something. It's not a complaint, in other words, but a positive choice, and not a stop in one's journey, but a step in a better direction. Quitting-whether a job or a habit-means taking a turn so as to be sure you're still moving in the direction of your dreams. ~ Pico Iyer

Your luck is about to change, Abby.' His voice was low and velvety. 'I know a lot about you. I know how to get into your apartment. How to turn your cat into a noodle. The magnets on your fridge, the view from your window. Your perfume. I could find you blindfolded in a room full of strangers.' His fingers penetrated the veil of her hair, his forefinger stroking the back of her neck with controlled gentleness. 'And I learn fast. Give me ten minutes, and I'd know lots more. ~ Shannon McKenna

School, huh? Are you sure you that's where you're going?" Her hand is still outstretched, waiting for a key that she isn't getting. After a few empty seconds, she crosses her arms.
"Where else would I be going with my backpack and books?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe Galen Forza's house?"
Yep, didn't see that one coming. If I did, I might have stopped the blush sprouting on my cheeks. "Um. How do you know Galen?"
"Mrs. Strickland told me about him. Said you were arguing with him in the hall and that you were upset when you took off running from him. Said he carried you to the office himself when you ran into the door."
I knew he had something to do with my accident. And Mom talked to the principal about it. My lips turn so dry I expect to taste dust when I lick them. The blush spreads all over my body, even to my ears. "He carried me?"
"She said Galen wouldn't leave your side until Dr. Morton got there. Dr. Morton said he wouldn't go back to class until he assured him you would be okay." She taps her foot faster, then stops. "Well?"
I blink at her. "Well, what?"
Did my mother just growl? ~ Anna Banks

AFTER BEING IN LOVE, THE NEXT RESPONSIBILITY
Turn me like a waterwheel turning a millstone.
Plenty of water, a Living River.
Keep me in one place and scatter the love.
Leaf-moves in wind, straw drawn toward amber,
all parts of the world are in love,
but they do not tell their secrets. Cows grazing
on a sacramental table, ants whispering in Solomon's ear.
Mountains mumbling an echo. Sky, calm.
If the sun were not in love, he would have no brightness,
the side of the hill no grass on it.
The ocean would come to rest somewhere.
Be a lover as they are, that you come to know
you Beloved. Be faithful that you may know
Faith. The other parts of the universe did not accept
the next responsibility of love as you can.
They were afraid they might make a mistake
with it, the inspired knowing
that springs from being in love ~ Rumi

My Last Duchess

That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much," or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat": such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace - all and each
Would draw from her ~ Robert Browning

She's drawn to me just as I'm drawn to her. She can't keep away. She circles, forced to keep her distance, afraid of abandoning her husband and, even more, her son for too long. But she keeps coming, like a moth to my candle, staying longer than she should, leaving late for dinners and birthday parties, singeing her wings. She's risking her marriage for me, her family, her reputation.
And I, the moth circling her candle, realize that she's not just a candle. She's a moth as well, circling me. I look at her and see myself reflected, my feelings, my desires. And she, looking at me, must see herself. And which of us is moth and which is candle hardly seems to matter. We're both the same.
That's the secret.
What moths never tell us as they whirl in their dances.
What Manucci learned at Pak Tea House.
What sufis veil in verse.
I turn her around and look into her eyes and see the wonder in them that must be in mine as well, the wonder I first saw on our night of ecstasy, and I feel myself explode, expand, fill the universe, then collapse, implode like a detonation under water, become tiny, disappear.
I'm hardly aware of myself, of her, when I open my mouth. There is just us, and I speak for us when I speak, and I must be trembling and crying, but I don't even know if I am or what I'm doing.
I just say it.
"I love you."
And I lose myself in her eyes and we kiss and I feel myself becoming part of something new, something larger, somet ~ Mohsin Hamid

In the past, love for me has always meant forever, and sure, you still nurse some of those fantasies, but I don't try to force it anymore. I hung on to my fairy-tale ideals for a long time. But where I am now, what I've been through, there are no rules. There are lots of ways it can turn out instead of just one. There are so many different kinds of happiness, not just the one you learned about when you were 5 years old. ~ Jennifer Lopez

Waiting for the end, boys, waiting for the end.
What is there to be or do?
What's become of me or you?
Are we kind or are we true?
Sitting two and two, boys, waiting for the end.

Shall I build a tower, boys, knowing it will rend
Crack upon the hour, boys, waiting for the end?
Shall I pluck a flower, boys, shall I save or spend?
All turns sour, boys, waiting for the end.

Shall I send a wire, boys? Where is there to send?
All are under fire, boys, waiting for the end.
Shall I turn a sire, boys? Shall I choose a friend?
The fat is in the pyre, boys, waiting for the end.

Shall I make it clear, boys, for all to apprehend,
Those that will not hear, boys, waiting for the end,
Knowing it is near, boys, trying to pretend,
Sitting in cold fear, boys, waiting for the end?

Shall we send a cable, boys, accurately penned,
Knowing we are able, boys, waiting for the end,
Via the Tower of Babel, boys? Christ will not ascend.
He's hiding in his stable, boys, waiting for the end.

Shall we blow a bubble, boys, glittering to distend,
Hiding from our trouble, boys, waiting for the end?
When you build on rubble, boys, Nature will append
Double and re-double, boys, waiting for the end.

Shall we make a tale, boys, that things are sure to mend,
Playing bluff and hale, boys, waiting for the end?
It will be b ~ William Empson

What did I do to deserve you?"
"You told me not to throw away my work. You chased me down and made me open up. Enough to see things I needed to see." Xander stepped closer and put a hand carefully on Skylar's hip. "This is how I make love to you, Skylar Stone. I make you take off your clothes and spread your legs for me. I get you to tell me stories of goddesses and turn you into one. I turn your deepest fears into the most beautiful painting I know how to create, and then I stay up all night to give it to you." He rested his nose on Skylar's shoulder, nipping him smartly. "The very idea I need to slobber on a body part to do it is insulting."
Without turning around, Skylar found Xander's hand and laced their fingers tight. "What happens if I tell you that I love you?"
Xander shut his eyes, smiling into Skylar's skin as his heart soared. He squeezed their joined hands tighter. "I'll tell you that I love you back. ~ Heidi Cullinan

My turn?" asks the blond from behind me. "Didn't you say she deserved a good spanking for her recent misdemeanours Mike?"
His voice has taken on a husky, carnal quality since our introduction at the bench, and I suspect there is another hard cock waiting for me. I struggle impatiently at the thought.
"Absolutely Niall," Mike replies, "but not here. I want her punished in public, to make sure she remembers the lesson. Sean, pull in at the next layby will you ... ~ Felicity Brandon

You said I was the girl who couldn't decide
between the ocean and the shore.
Said the only way to make me fall in love
with the present was to turn it into my past. ~ Lang Leav

When we arrive on our floor we head to our rooms, politely bidding each other goodnight. Just as I am about to enter mine, I remember I have his jacket. I can use this to have just one more moment with him tonight. I knock on his door, his lips slightly open when he sees me on the other side.

"You forgot your jacket." It is still on my shoulders. I turn around to offer it up to him.

"Thank you Shy," As he says this he takes both of his hands, grabbing each shoulder of the jacket and oh so slowly pulls it off of me, grazing my bare arms and back as he pulls it off. I close my eyes taking in his touch. Each caress of his fingertips feels like one thousand little sparks. How can just the faintest touch from this man set me off like this? Please kiss me. Kiss my neck. I won't say no. I hold my position for a second more than I should, but it feels so tortuously long. There is nothing, not another touch, not a kiss. I turn to face him again and bid him goodnight. His face looks sad, almost guilty. Every word, every touch, every action tonight was an implication. This keeps us safe from one another. It keeps me safe from him.

"Goodnight Shy," he says as if dismissing me from his presence.

"Goodnight Taylor. ~ Nina G. Jones

More wine for me, pour me some more!"

"You smart girl, I knew you're a smart girl, just teasing..."

Faces turn red, the dark earth blood is rising.

They wink at Pelka, wink at the host: "He knows his goods!" The women feel the buttons constricting them - they undo one, another, a third. By twos the guests go outside to get some air.

"Well, my dear guests, are you soaked to the gills? Eh? And now-to dance! Get lively!"

The table and the chairs vanish. The middle of the room is empty. Ivan the Monk jumps out of his hole, a tambourine in his hands: "Tim-ta-a-am! Tim-ta-a-am!"

"Eh-hey!" the redhead suddenly snatches the tambourine and sweeps off, tapping wildly in a circle. Eyes closed: a white sleepless sun-a white night on the meadow-white columns of smoke swaying over fires...

"Eh-ah!"-to whirl herself to death, to whirl out everything, to empty herself - nothing has ever been...

Heavy boots are thumping on the floor, beards fly in the wind, the frock-coat tails go flying... hey, get going, faster, faster - a hundred versts an hour! ("The North") ~ Yevgeny Zamyatin

I don't know if I will have the time to write any more letters, because I might be too busy trying to participate. So, if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started high school, and you helped me. Even if you didn't know what I was talking about, or know someone who's gone through it, you made me not feel alone. Because I know there are people who say all these things don't happen. And there are people who forget what it's like to be sixteen when they turn seventeen. I know these will all be stories some day, and our pictures will become old photographs. We all become somebody's mom or dad. But right now, these moments are not stories. This is happening. I am here, and I am looking at her. And she is so beautiful. I can see it. This one moment when you know you're not a sad story. You are alive. And you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you're listening to that song, and that drive with the people who you love most in this world. And in this moment, I swear, we are infinite. ~ Stephen Chbosky

The Battle of Gettysburg was fought in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania in 18-something-or-nother. The year doesn't matter.They considered it the turning point of the war, and President Lincoln showed up to give his big speech. Who really cares what it was called? I don't. After it was all over and the North won, Congress passed the 13th amendment to free the slaves. It outlawed owning another person, yada, yada, yada, but it was a waste of time. All of it. Every bit. Completely pointless. All those people died and it didn't change anything, because it doesn't work if they don't enforce it. They just ignore it, turn their backs and say it's not their problem, but it is. It's everyone's problem. They can say slavery ended all they want, but that doesn't make it true. People lie. They'll tell you what they think you wanna hear, and you'll believe it. Whatever makes you feel better about your dismal little lives. So, whatever. Go on being naive. Believe what the history book tells you if you want. Believe what Mrs. Anderson wants me to tell you about it. Believe the land of the free, blah, blah, blah, star spangled banner bullshit. Believe there aren't any slaves anymore just because a tall guy in a big ass top hat and a bunch of politicians said so. But I won't believe it, because if I do too, we'll all fucking be wrong, and someone has to be right." -Carmine DeMarco ~ J.M. Darhower

My lady," says Aladdin, extending an arm toward the sun, "I give you gold as a token of my love."
"All I want is you," I reply. I turn and kiss him, pulling him against me, feeling the warmth of the dawn in my hair. Then I rest my head on his shoulder, simply feeling his arms around me, his heart beating against me.
"Are you cold?" asks Aladdin. "You're shivering."
"A little."
"I'll go get a blanket. And breakfast. If I can find the kitchen."
"Galley, love. It's called a galley."
"Right. Galley. Got it. I'll ask the captain. What was his name?"
"Sinbad, I think?"
"I'll be right back."
But I catch his hand. "I'm all right. Don't go yet."
He stays with me, and together we watch the sun stain the sea and sky a thousand and one shades of gold. My thumb rubs the ring on my finger, its dents and contours as familiar to me now as my hand.
So this is what it feels like to have all your wishes come true. ~ Jessica Khoury