But I didn't call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone - he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling.

Make it?" Fred echoed. "Make what? The team? The chick? Make good? Make out? Make sense? Make money? Make time? Define your turns. The Latin for 'make' is facere, which also reminds me of fuckere, which is Latin for 'to fuck', and I haven't...

This was the great clarity of being beyond emotion, after the reward of having felt everything one could feel.

Every good thing in the world stands on the razor-edge of danger.

Written By Thornton Wilder

About us

Featured posts

Featured Topics

Quick Links