Clifford Roberts
“I love how you described that occasion. It’s sort of like when I dropped you off at your place. My last impression of you as you turned the corner was that smile, flung backward like a handful of flowers.”
She said, “I love how you put that. It makes my body tremble all over.”
He whispered to her, “I never told you that . . . . I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.” Oddly, he loved the way her mind worked. How she dealt with moral problems as a cleaver deals with meat.
“Lastly, sometimes there’s so much beauty in the world I feel like I can’t take it, like my heart’s going to cave in . . . . keep in mind, “I’m the ghost with the most, babe.”
“Would you believe it if I told you that
“I love how you described that occasion. It’s sort of like when I dropped you off at your place. My last impression of you as you turned the corner was that smile, flung backward like a handful of flowers.”
She said, “I love how you put that. It makes my body tremble all over.”
He whispered to her, “I never told you that . . . . I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.” Oddly, he loved the way her mind worked. How she dealt with moral problems as a cleaver deals with meat.
“Lastly, sometimes there’s so much beauty in the world I feel like I can’t take it, like my heart’s going to cave in . . . . keep in mind, “I’m the ghost with the most, babe.”
“Would you believe it if I told you that