#dear

Well, Smoke n' Mirrors has very much a world music flavor and it doesn't park itself in one country. It borrows heavily from the Brazilian angle, which is dear to my heart, and I recorded several albums with that flavor. ↗

— Lee Ritenour

#angle #borrows #brazilian #country #dear

But of course, very few people are Dexter. This is generally a good thing, but in this case it came in handy to be me. Four months after reading a story in the paper about a missing boy, I read a similar story. The boys were around the same age; details like that always ring a small bell and send a Mister Rogers whisper trickling through my brain: “Hello, neighbor. ↗

— Jeff Lindsay

#age

I'm just a musical prostitute, my dear. ↗

— Freddie Mercury

#i #just #musical

He saw her right after the seventh-period bell rang. She seemed dressed for the sole purpose of blending in with the lockers, but she stood out, anyway. It didn’t matter that her wide blue eyes were narrowed or that her pretty mouth was twisted into a near snarl — she was blatantly beautiful. It was kind of sick the way Ed was preoccupied with beautiful girls these days. He felt a little sorry for her. (He was also preoccupied with finding ways of feeling sorry for people.) She was new and trying hard not to look it. She was confused and trying to look tough. It was endearing is what it was. ↗

— Francine Pascal

#blending-in #endearing #lockers #pity #school

Dear God, let this be just a bad nightmare. ↗

— Roy Horn

#dear #god #just #nightmare

I do know it, my own. Let me tell ye in your sleep how much I love you. For there's no so much I can be saying to ye while ye wake, but the same poor words, again and again. While ye sleep in my arms, I can say things to ye that would be daft and silly waking, and your dreams will know the truth of them. Go back to sleep, mo duinne. ↗

— Diana Gabaldon

#love #dreams

My dreams were all my own; I accounted for them to nobody; they were my refuge when annoyed - my dearest pleasure when free. ↗

— Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

#accounted #annoyed #dearest #free #i

Neither the cat nor I missed you while you were gone. It's worse than that. We danced the visitor-gone dance, flinging our feet (and paws) with particular glee. You remember the dance - the one you do after shutting the door behind a difficult visitor (like a family member)? You hold your breath for 120 seconds then deadbolt the door, race to the bed, leap on to it and jump, twirl, bell-kick and prance, singing all the while, "she's go-onnne, she's gooo-oonne. ↗

— Melissa Checker

#jack #short #story #family

Depending on your point of view, Ashley (or Leslie Howard) was sensitive, poetic, and enigmatic-- or wan and a wimp. Rhett/Clark Gable was sexy, virile, and funny or just crude and unmannerly. The outcome was a crucial barometer of taste that would reveal a great deal, possibly too much, about a girl's temperament and predilections. ↗

— Molly Haskell

#frankly #gone #my #wind #with

I ran this through my "girl talk" translator and said, "I could eat him, if either of you'd like. Seems like it might be the easiest thing to do." -Bram to Nora & Pamela ↗

— Lia Habel

#humor #nora-dearly #humor