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It's the intent, not the word, that makes something harsh.

Lisa McMann

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Lisa McMann
Age: 56
Born: 1968
Born: February 27
Author
Novelist
Writer
Holland
Michigan
Harsh
Word
Makes
Something
Intent

More quotes by Lisa McMann

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Janie blinks and leans against the wall, just in case. But it's no one's dream. It's just the end of some things. And the beginning of others.
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But then you slammed a door handle into my gut. And when a girl does that to a guy it means she likes him.
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Because there's no way on earth she's going to make it through college unless she grows some serious ovaries and turns this train wreck around
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Hippie said he couldn't stay. Be back tomorrow -Love,Mom
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If you believe you can read you can
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With practice, you will master your own dreams.
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Oh baby, he whispers. Steps back. Out of the doorway. His face ashen. He walks slowly back to the kitchen. Leans over the counter. Puts his head in his hands. His hair falls over his fingers. The bathroom door clicks shut. She stays there for a long time. He's pulling his hair out.
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Janie calls Cabel. Hi, uh, Mom, she says. Cabel snorts. Hello, dear. Did you make it through the blizzard? Yeah. Barely. Janie grins into the phone.
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Dreams aren't memories, he says.
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The phone rings. “Asshole,” she mutters. She picks it up. “Will you let me explain?” “No.” She hangs up.
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So, ah, I'm not sure if you know this, but you're not wearing a shirt. Distracting, isn't it?
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Cabel gives her a quizzical look. I am totally not getting enough attention here.
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Dreams happen in the strangest places. Watch for them.
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Whatever I want,' he says. 'Yes.' 'I'm afraid you haven't been privy to that dream yet.
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A trapped soul waits for redemption. It waits. And waits. For her to take her last breath.
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Feels like I'm in a play and I don't know all my lines.
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The thought of being with Shay Wilder makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a butter knife
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Jacian Obregon. It sounds like a melody. Or a tragedy.
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You're asking for trouble, Hannagan, he growls. And you would be....? Janie asks. She giggles. Trouble.
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Do you still love me, Janie?' Janie stares at him, incredulous. 'Yes, of course! I don't say it lightly.' 'Say it lightly in my ear,' he demands. She smiles, rests her soft cheek on his scratchy one, and whispers it. 'I love you, Cabe.
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