Quotes About Susannah

I was the first person in NYU Medical Center's history to be diagnosed with NMDAR encephalitis.

The chamber-maid had left no ******* *** under the bed:—Cannot you contrive, master, quoth Susannah , lifting up the sash with one hand, as she spoke, and helping me up into the window seat with the other,—cannot you manage, my dear, for a single time to **** *** ** *** ******?

And then he smiled at me, and he was Jeremiah again. Susannah's boy, sunshine and smiles. Her little angel.

Jeremiah hated his curls. For a while, Conrad had him convinced that crusts made your hair curly, so Jeremiah had stopped eating sandwich crusts, and Conrad would polish them off. As Jeremiah got older, though, his hair was less and less curly and more wavy. I missed his curls. Susannah called him her little angel, and he used to look like one, with his rosy cheeks and yellow curls. He still had the rosy cheeks.

She was sitting on her own long blonde hair, which Susannah had noted came to just under her rear, cupping it in a provocative way.

You doom yourselves, Susannah. You seem positively bent on it, and the root is always the same: your faith fails you, and you replace it with rational thought. But there is no love in thought, nothing that lasts in deduction, only death in rationalism.

Before I was a reporter, I worked at a record store in New Jersey.

Do people in the twenty-first century still dance? My heart beat thundered in my ears, far louder than the slow music. Um, I said, barely able to swallow, my throat had gone so dry. Sometimes. How about now? he asked. And then his strong arms were encircling my waist, his breath soft against my cheek as he gently whispered my name: Susannah. Susannah....

As hard as it is to date someone with nineteenth-century manners-seriously, it's getting to a point where I spend so much time swimming laps in the campus pool to work off my sexual frustration, my highlights are becoming brassy-I still feel a thrill every time Jesse calls me Susannah. He thinks the name everyone else calls me-Suze-is too short and ugly for someone of my strength and beauty.

There was a greedy extravagance about her that was a little overdone for an afternoon at the pictures.

I'm overflowing with stories, delighted and quite mad with the beauty and tragedy of them.