Best 13 quotes of Wiss Auguste on MyQuotes

As he seemed to be losing control, Hope licked the palm of her left hand, slid it into his already unbuttoned pants, and reached for his soul.

Fear was etched on her face like a gypsy curse carved on precious stones.

Her legs were heavy. A grunt followed each step she took. Each step she took sent a painful sensation up her spine. Each step she took caused her knees to wobble. Yet she walked.

His warmth was her sweet obsession. His smile was her sunshine; his kisses became her addiction.

Melodiousness rolled over her tongue and out of her mouth whenever she spoke. Her eloquence equaled her elegance.

Once again, she was free. Once again, she found peace. It was music that freed her soul from the dungeon of her mind.

She felt rage boiling inside of her, begging to get out, begging to be set free. She succumbed to the supplications of her inner beast. She set her rage free.

She had only been around humans for a few days, and she had already embroiled herself in one of the most intricate social dilemmas: to stand out or to fit in?

She pitied these women trapped in this semblance of happiness. She pitied their daughters being raised in this modernized cult of domesticity.

The desert was a prison without bars. Her fear was her shackles.

Their sense of entitlement was about as big as their egos, and their egos were twice the size of their brains. Decency was a foreign concept to them; Hope ignored them all and walked into her room.

There’s nothing more poisonous to a community than rumors and gossips. They taint the good character of those who effortlessly stand out. They provide mediocre individuals with a means to become relevant. They set in like gangrene and eat away at the sense of decency that differentiates humans from animals.

Yet, even the nicest places on earth become boring in due course. The greatest moments become dull and tedious once the flame of excitement ceases to burn.