He scraped through the dark sand to the center house, two stories, both pouring bands of light into the fog. There was warmth and gaiety within, through the downstairs window he could see young people gathered around a piano, their singing mocking the forces abroad on this cruel night. She was there, proptected by happiness and song and the good. He was separated from her only by a sand yard and a dark fence, by a lighted window and by her protectors. He stood there until he was trembling with pity and rage. Then he fled, but his flight was slow as the flight in a dream, impeded by the deep sand and the blurring hands of the fog. He fled from the goodness of that home, and his hatred for Laurel throttled his brain. If she had come back to him, he would not be shut out, an outcast in a strange, cold world. Dorothy B. Hughes
Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for...
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Bob Marley
As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.
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John Green
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you,...
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Pablo Neruda
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.
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Neil Gaiman
There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.
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Sarah Dessen
More Quotes By Dorothy B. Hughes
I was born when you kissed me. I died when you left me. I lived a few weeks while you loved me.
He finished his drink. 'I don’t like mornings either, ' he said. “That’s why I’m a writer.
There were no passing cars to call out to. You couldn’t call for help from a police car, anyway; he didn’t think you could.
He scraped through the dark sand to the center house, two stories, both pouring bands of light into the fog. There was warmth and gaiety within, through the downstairs window he could see young people gathered around a piano, their singing mocking the forces abroad...
I was born when he kissed me, I died when he left me, I lived a few weeks while he loved me
