Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She writes her name on on his feet which shows that she can write her name on her first day at kindergarten. Smart kid."

while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
she doesn't write, doesn't tell you stories, but somehow it's her words that spring to mind at those crucial, terrifying moments, and for that you are eternally grateful
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
When you can almost recognize her face, but you can't remember her name
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
One day I wrote her name upon the strand
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
In a quiet grove of pines under a frosty sky, he helped her out of the sack. She wore severe white hospital pajamas and was beautiful.
the way she wears her weary
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
Her name is Claire
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
Her name was Natalie
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
At night, her eyes closed, she would
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She is a night of dark trees, but he who is not afraid of her darkness will find banks full of roses under her cypresses
She knows no truth except her own.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
She always confused her greys with white.
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
serene. She sips her tea
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
she had already found her party
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
She always was devious in her beauty
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
She practices her speech
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
She was never mine. I always shared her.
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
The portion of her face she allows me to see
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
Her name is Rebecca
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
does she need to touch her own face to know?
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She thought about giving him her heart
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
I don't remember what her name was so let's call her Doris
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
Susan Goldman, who has cervical cancer, is partly thankful as she braces herself but changes her mind as she's sprayed with burning jet fuel.
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
I don't like her because she won't like me
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
she lit her thumb on fire
She asked me to read her a poem
It is her name that I think of when I think about being in love.
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She Will Have Her Way
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She flies with her own wings
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
she gave her heart to a falling star
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She keeps her lies everywhere
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
river, in all his innocent beauty and home in hers
her eyes can't find you at first
What she writes in my diary, I will read in twenty years
she named it killer and took it to the beach to play in the sand
Her lack of response opened a gate through which my mind started to wander, into a wilderness where the shadows all had teeth...
The Madame Retrieves That Which is Hers
About the things you could not show her
Can You Forgive Her?
before the internet when teen had REAL relationship the boy could look at the girl and judge the diameter of her thorax with his feelers and determine whether the mating ritual could commence but NO MORE. evil woman use her computer sorcery
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
GammaGirl, Nothing can slow her down
I can see her face
Her hips made waves against his shore
His hand speaks a foreign language to her ribs.
If her secrets spilled from her eyes into his
She didn't write like Emily Dickinson, but she did live in a house overlooking a cemetery, and I guess he thought that was important.
She writes like the wind moves
She writes notes to me, to keep me in check
Things you can tell just by looking at her
His 'N' Hers
My love in her attire doth show her wit
The first time I saw her
Ducks can swim. What about her pearls?
We can meet her for you wholesale: a dreaming girl's singularity
At her mirror, his muse
Every time that I tell her that I love her, I can taste my own hypocrisy
His and Her Circumstances
Kitty interrupts his murky float with the nail gun splash of her stiletto song
His ex-wife was so frigid, her clitoris was only the tip of the iceberg.
when you're done, you can let her die if that's what you want. Or you can wake her.
Michael Moved Out to Live with His Bitch & Her Dog
As the band laughed, her finger traced his spine, and he folded into her
waiting for his arms to fold like wings around her
And she's walking as if her feet hurt
The Ground Beneath Her Feet
her first time
Telling Anna you love her the first time
The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover
I fell in love with her first
I never saw her again
Say that turning a teenage girl to stone is depriving the world of her
If this were in person, I would have kissed her now
I do not see her
putting on her makeup
Take Her up to Monto
a total loss of control over her life
Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition
Take Her in Your Arms
Her Handwriting
her lips on mine
Written in her French Psalter
I daydream of her
Her back
Now I know why I get the urge to kill her
The Milk-Woman and Her Pail
Her braid; I obeyed
The Bitch and Her Whelps
I don't think of her
Her Royal Highness
Written with a Diamond on her Window at Woodstock
Someone set her face on fire and put it out with an anchor chain
The Author to Her Book
Ribbed for her pleasure
If You Followed Her Gaze
Neko Case and Her Boyfriends
The Lark and Her Young Ones

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