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it takes as long as three generations of hard work, three generations of sacrifice to correct the wrong!
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Every day a million miracles begin at sunrise!
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Desire is a beast that must be fed!
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She’s a smart woman. I love that. Intelligence is a wonderful and powerful aphrodisiac. To me, it enhances beauty, makes an ordinary woman look like a movie star.
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Jokes are used to hide the truth!
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Wisdom ain't seeing what's in your face, but recognizing what's about to come!
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The only perfect people are dead people, because their the only ones who can't make mistakes!
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You're just a side dish not the main course!
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I'm just trying to write a good story, strictly from imagination. People just think it's random, they don't see the rewriting, phrasing of characters, choosing the words, bringing the world to light in which the characters live in. That creates an illusion that this is real.
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Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable!
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Once desire was turned on, combustion gave it a life of its own. Once it was turned on it became a raging wildfire, uncontrollable and uncontainable, the type of conflagration that had to be allowed to burn itself out.
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A full moon is a flashlight so everyone can see your drama!
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Love is a mental illness, an obsessive-compulsive disorder romanticized!
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Hate isn't healthy, it damages the hater more than the one who's hated!
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Physical attraction was about aesthetics, not sexual performance, not mental stimulation. Without a mental connection, a remarkable sexual performance yielded no lifelong guarantees. It was only lust. And lust was not love.
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Marriage is when a man stops disappointing many women and focuses on disappointing one!
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We're all living contradictions, trying to survive in a world filled with hypocrites.
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Most women got this thing called compassion. It doesn't make them foolish, just more forgiving. More capable of trying and hoping things worked out.
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For a lot of people, becoming an author is a change in occupation... they are coming from something that totally has nothing to do with this. If they are expecting to come into a room full of people praising them, then they are in the wrong place.
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Every man kills the things that he loves. Some with a look, some with flattery, the coward with a kiss.
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I want those young whipper-snappers to know that in days past we actually used to kill trees and make those things called books.
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For some of us love comes into the room, kicks her shoes off, finds the most comfortable sofa, and lies down, rests, has no intention of going anywhere. For others love walks in smoking a cigarette, checking her watch every two seconds, jittery, with one hand on the doorknob, heart rate up, always in sprinter’s position, ready to run.
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You want to put a band-aid on something that needs stitches.
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Falling in love was a solo act. I knew that, had learned that the hard way. You just jumped and hoped your parachute opened. Sometimes you looked up and saw you were falling by yourself, the object of your desire still on the plane, not interested in jumping, watching you descend into that scary place alone.