#christopher

Failure to put faith into action is one of the main causes of people’s dreams coming to nothing. ↗

— Christopher Dines

#dreams

Christopher Columbus, as everyone knows, is honored by posterity because he was the last to discover America. ↗

— James Joyce

#because #christopher #columbus #discover #everyone

Then someone started pounding on the door. And not a little "Hey, what's up?" pound. Like there was a big sale on door pounds down at the Pound Outlet. Buy one, get one free at Pounds-n-Stuff. --Being the Journal of Abby Normal ↗

— Christopher Moore

#christopher-moore #love

Love? Sodding, bloody, tossing, bloody, sodding, bloody love? Irrelevant, superfluous, bloody, ruddy, rotten, sodding love? What ho? Wherefore? What the f*ck? Love? ↗

— Christopher Moore

#fool #love

Inside, I was like: "Ha, suck my spiky rubber strap-on, vampyre hunter! ↗

— Christopher Moore

#you-suck #love

I was all, "Oh, dog, Countess gonna crack open a forty of whup-ass on you now. Oh, you in the sh*t now, wigga!" (I am not incline to use hip-hop vernacular often, but there are times when, like French, it just better expresses the sentiment of the moment.) -Abby ↗

— Christopher Moore

#you-suck #love

[...]I am a romance slut, and there's nothing I can do about it. If a guy does or says something romantic, I'm all "Oh, please excuse me, kind sir, let me dial down my IQ and oh, if it would please sir, may I offer you this moist, yet helpless va-jay-jay that seems to have lost its way." -The Chronicles of Abby Normal ↗

— Christopher Moore

#christopher-moore #love

Which is why you chose to wear that delightful ensemble from the skank-wear collection at Hoes-n-Thangs?" -Tommy ↗

— Christopher Moore

#you-suck #love

As I sit here writing to you, I have propped my stocking feet much too close to the hearth. I’ve actually singed my stockings on occasion, and once I had to stomp out my feet when they started smoking. Even after that I can’t seem to rid myself of the habit. There, now you could pick me out of a crowd blindfolded. Simply follow the scent of scorched stockings. ↗

— Lisa Kleypas

#christopher #love-letter #love

One evening, at the time of the Six-Day War, I [Christopher Hitchens] had my wicked way with a lovely lady, who had earlier intimated that she did not perhaps find me entirely repulsive. We procured a decent room, as I remember, at the Cadogan Hotel. Perhaps a little flown with wine, I asked her to don a Martin Amis face mask which I had—with a combination of sticky tape, elastic bands, cardboard, and a much-treasured photograph—prepared earlier. The fair damsel was happy to oblige, and thus attired she permitted me to embark on the hugely agreeable pathway to libidinous fulfillment. ↗

— Craig Brown

#martin-amis #six-day-war #love