girl

I wrote '('Til) I Kissed You' about a girl I met in Australia. Her name was Lilian, and she was very, very inspirational. I was married, but... I wrote the song about her on the way back home.

You don't have to watch 'Gossip Girl' to have an attitude.

Social mores change all the time. In the mid-1970s, it would've been astonishing, say, to see two men holding hands in the streets. And the attitude to having a fling with a girl, or whatever, was quite different then.

There is definitely something sexy about a girl with an attitude and a pair of leather pants.

I didn't know how to show my self love, and I didn't want anyone else to hurt me. So my tough girl attitude was like, 'I'm not having it.'

You get tough when you grow up unloved. People described me as a boyish girl - rather shy, but I didn't show it. I had an attitude. I was rather wild. I lied a lot because I knew the alternative was to be punished. As I got older I realised I didn't have to lie any more and it was a nice feeling. I could be myself.

Female rappers get it the hardest. You have to be a girl, yet you have to be just as hard as the guys. I think some female rappers get scared out of the business before they can make it.

Many a man in love with a dimple makes the mistake of marrying the whole girl.

She looked at her hand: Just some hand, holding a cheap pen. Some girls_ hand. She had nothing to do with that hand. Let that hand do whatever it wanted to.

It is an extra dividend when you like the girl you've fallen in love with.

She walks,on the streets,with a face that,doesn't belong.It smiles more than,many put together,whole day long.Her heart misfit,a little chipped.And she likes to,call it once broken,but now stitched.

Family's the most important thing.

Ridley was like a beautiful snake - you couldn't let her get close without the risk of being bitten.

When you say "I love you", I expect you to prove it.

At the high school a pretty girl strolled across the parking lot to her black stallion, let her cigarette dangle from her lips while she put on her helmet, adjusted her goggles. Throwing a slender white leg over the side she jacked her little backside up and down a few times, exciting the steed. Now she came down on his back and he squatted, moaning to the soft squeeze of her hand, then at her sudden clutch shot out fast between the press of her knees. Claude looked down at his shoes as they passed, having seen nothing. But he glanced up in time to watch them glide off under the next streetlamp, the gleaming beast appearing almost languid with release, very pleased with himself and with the girl who clung to his back, small and stiff and unsatisfied.She had been noticed: everywhere along the way the leaning people looked after her as though wondering if the new week had finally begun, then they looked at one another, then back at nothing.

It only takes a Romeo for every girl to become a Juliet.

I__ looked around my room at the ribbons and sashes and rosettes hanging from the walls, at the photos of my ponies clearing the highest fences with me crouched in the saddle, a look of utter determination on my face. I__ made myself look hard at the pictures, at my legs swinging backwards over the fences, at my body lying low over my pony__ neck, my hands grasping at the reins as I turned them in mid-air. At the way that Teddy__ eyes were bulging as I pulled him around a tight turn, at the way the veins popped out on Buck__ lathered neck, at Springbok__ open mouth, dripping with foam. I__ looked hard at them all, and I hadn__ liked what I__ seen.

It's been a while since I've had sex. I figured it was just like riding a bike, the only difference is that after a while, the bike doesn't turn you over and ride you.