You have to sing but not too much. You have dance but not too much. You have to help but not help. You have to access their confidence but not too much. You have to be honest but not too honest.
There are a lot of them when I can't even say your name then I lay down in a heap of heavy sighs and the night presses me under itself like a lonely widow dressed in black
He was terrified that his parents would kill each other if he did nothing to stop them. At the same time, he felt a fierce resentment rise up inside of him. He wanted to help them, but he also needed to punish them...
“He was not, really; he was a rich bourgeois nationalist. He just wanted to do some reforms, like land reform and nationalizations, and he was OK with diplomacy with Cuba and the Soviet Union. But rich capitalists here and in the United States wouldn’t have any of it.”
would you rather fight every living human or check the signal chat? it's a toss-up every time a dissection of the risks involved in what started as a discussion group and quickly became the war of words you scream to the universe
No matter what he bought at a shop, ordered for breakfast, got drinks at the pool during happy hours, charged on a credit card for dinner, there was a lingering feeling that he paid too much.
The prisoners were dragged to their knees, positioned to face the street. Car 1’s high beams lit their faces. They squinted away in discomfort. And one by one, the men from Car 1 came up and abused them.
