“What a pure and intimate thing – to be reading the words of another.”

You know what would be hot? To get loved before you get fucked.

Even pretty words turn into ash while pouring out of an ugly mouth.

I want to see you naked stripped bare yourself in front of me and then you can take your clothes off.

All these candles unlit perhaps they too need to breathe you.

She won’t settle for being just another girl on your feed you know.

What about us who would like a piece of the soul served as an aperitif before we dig into flesh?

I want to see our demons complement each other for the rest of our lives.

What if last time felt so beautiful simply because it actually was our last time?

I know my worth it shouldn’t have to slap me in the face though.

Hug me from behind so we won’t have to stare the facts in the eye.

You deserve to be chosen undoubtedly over and over again not merely considered.

Your scent is one I want to know for the rest of my life.

Home is where the heart is, but my heart is with you and I’m not with it.

I fall asleep hugging myself tight, as I probably should.

Wake us from this seasonal slumber of sorts, it is time for us to finally bloom.

Falling asleep to them or waking up to them; twittering birds are a treasure either way.

Just because you’re from a city ten miles outside of St. Paul. It doesn’t mean you don’t read magazines, or the incredible Internet, and what’s going on in the world. I never, ever take a client, or women, for granted.

Just because you’re from a city ten miles outside of St. Paul. It doesn’t mean you don’t read magazines, or the incredible Internet, and what’s going on in the world. I never, ever take a client, or women, for granted.

I’ve read that if an avalanche buries you and you’re lying there underneath all that snow, you can’t tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise.

I’ve read that if an avalanche buries you and you’re lying there underneath all that snow, you can’t tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise.

I’ve read that if an avalanche buries you and you’re lying there underneath all that snow, you can’t tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise.

The one thing I wished for my children is that they’d be readers.

We shouldn’t teach great books; we should teach a love of reading.

A fourth-grade reader may be a sixth-grade mathematician. The grade is an administrative device which does violence to the nature of the developmental process.