Quotes About Expression

Grandma was wearing a blond Marilyn Monroe wig, a hot pink tank top, black Pilates pants, and black kitten heels. She looked like the senior version of an inflatable sex toy doll that needed more air.

Cute? I think my testosterone level just dropped - Ranger

That's disappointing, Nick said. I was hoping to see you in action again. It's kind of sexy in a violent, perverted sort of way. Gosh, knowing that makes my day complete. I thought you'd want me to be open about my feelings now that we're married.

When people ask what you do, tell them you're a writer. Put yourself on the line. Make a commitment.

I've noticed you only speak ghetto half of the time. - Stephanie I'm multi-lingual, Rancher said. I followed him to the door, feeling jealous, wishing I knew a second language.

Dancing hotdogs don't say shit.

Powder blue is a sissy color.

I don't exactly date, but I sort of have a boyfriend." "What does sort of mean?" "It means that he looks like my boyfriend, but I don't say it out loud.

His participation was in the ballpark of a pity fuck.

Damn, piss, shit, fuck!

What was the deal with me today? It was as if my mouth wasn't connected to my brain.

Miami's the kind of place where you can wear a gold lamé bikini and a python cowboy hat and nobody will look at you twice

I rolled my eyes so far into the back of my head I saw myself Thinking"- Stephanie Plum High Five

Wouldn't you rather make a sweater or a hat?" "That would ruin it. It would have to be perfect. I'd have to think and count stitches. This way if I make a mistake, it's all part of the beauty of it. My thing isn't perfect because it's a reflection of life. Life isn't perfect. Besides, a sweater or a hat would

I wrinkled my nose. "What is that smell? Oh God, I didn't mess myself, did I?

There was no expression to his face. He looked like he'd seen it all and didn't think much of it.

You're his what?" "Amanuensis.

What can she possibly teach you, twenty seven names for tears?

It's their skins I'm peeling, she said. The skins of the insipid scribblers, which I graft to the page, creating monsters of meaninglessness.

she was such a bad actress. she never said her lines rite, it was something perverse in her nature. and wat was her line anyway?

Someday I would have lovers and write a poem after

I walked along the side with the spray-painted trees, some in white like a starched chemical snowfall, others painted gold, pink, red, even black. The black tree, about three feet high, looked like it had been burnt. I wondered who would want a black tree, but I knew someone would. There was no limit to the ways in which people could be strange. ~ White Oleander

don't sulk. you're acting just like a man.

Well, she wasn't strong enough to avoid being the background of my art. Just the background. Her words just my canvas.