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She was singed, bleeding, bruised, and furiously alive.
-Nora Roberts
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She Was Singed, Bleeding, Bruised, And Furiously

Nora Roberts
She was singed, bleeding, bruised, and furiously alive.
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Alive Bleeding Bruised

More From Nora Roberts

She comes to me when she wants to be fed. and after i feed her -- guess what -- she's off to wherever she wants to be in the house, until the next time she gets hungry. she's smart enough to know she can't feed herself. she's actually a very smart cat. she gets loved. she gets adoration. she gets petted. she gets fed. and she doesn't have to do anything for it, which is why i say this cat's taught me more about women, than anything my whole life.
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Where nature with accustomed round sweeps and garnishes the ground with kindly beauty, warm or cold alternate seasons never old: heathen, how furiously you rage, cursing this blood and brimstone age, how furiously against your will you kill and kill again, and kill: all thought of peace behind you cast, till like small boys with fear aghast, each cries for god to understand, 'i could not help it, it was my hand.
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She's a yellow pair of running shoes, a holey pair of jeans. she looks great in cheap sunglasses, she looks great in anything. she's, "i want a piece of chocolate cake; take me to a movie." she's a, "i can't find a thing to wear." now and then she's moody. she's a saturn with a sunroof with her brown hair blowing. she's a warm conversation i wouldn't miss for nothing. she's a fighter when she's mad and she's a lover when she's lovin'.
Running Hair Jeans
She smiled. she knew she was dying. but it did not matter any longer. she had known something which no human words could ever tell and she knew it now. she had been awaiting it and she felt it, as if it had been, as if she had lived it. life had been, if only because she had known it could be, and she felt it now as a hymn without sound, deep under the little whole that dripped red drops into the snow, deeper than that from which the red drops came. a moment or an eternity- did it matter? life, undefeated, existed and could exist. she smiled, her last smile, to so much that had been possible.
Life Hymns Snow
Just me, just me sweet marie, she loves just me (she also loves maurice mcghee). no she don't, she loves just me (she also loves louise dupree). no she don't, she loves just me (she also loves the willow tree). no she don't, she loves just me! (poor, poor fool, why can't you see she can love others and still love thee.)
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She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. she was beautiful, for the way she thought. she was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. she was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. no, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. she was beautiful, deep down to her soul. she is beautiful.
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