Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "she went off in a direction completely independent from what we put in front of her"

You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
From Her to Eternity
Gaily they went down in the lush field a treasure of valuables or specie or bullion lodged with a crust of bread into her coat of arms weaving currying the embroidering of silk in summer.
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
Listen to me, because I am in the soapbox. This is the voice of the soapbox. I am calling to you. Do you hear the sounds of my soaply siren song? My syntactically sweet strumming along to sequential sequestrations of symmetrically snakey st
She put the "romance" in "necromancer"
Saturday night, the words falling from her lips
At night, her eyes closed, she would
Put That Thing Back Where it Came From or So Help Me
Why don't we become completely independent and make our own everything
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
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
I dreamed of her pulse long before I took it from her
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
If her secrets spilled from her eyes into his
For every delayed technology there is a sudden, completely unexpected advance that jumps at us from the shadows
She Came and Went Like Wind (A Selkie Story)
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She has given up on shoes completely.
Inches away from her face
Went to Coney Island on a Mission From God... Be Back by Five
Look, she is also mostly confident front.
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 flies with her own wings
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
does she need to touch her own face to know?
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She was never mine. I always shared her.
I watched her from afar
She always confused her greys with white.
She knows no truth except her own.
She Came and Went
she is the sort of woman who, when put to the magnifying glass, refused to burn
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
The naked woman raises herself on her elbow and continues her monologue in the direction of the bath
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
the linear and the docile go feral at her command. we're on the run from rogue rivers and predatory trains.
how many bird nests would be made from her lovely hair
'twas the telltale tink-tock of marionettes, he felt certain, that jingle-jangled from behind her shower curtain
God is a pretty girl across the bar who smiles and waves in your direction; and you think she is waving at you
The revolution does not put dreams on trial. Nor does it save us from nightmares.
She thought about giving him her heart
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
trying to put together a single jigsaw puzzle from two different boxes
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
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.
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
Having knowledge is not the same as having understanding. You can have all the pieces in front of you and still not be able to put the puzzle together.
Tasty Bits from the Technology Front
serene. She sips her tea
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
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 was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
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.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
she lit her thumb on fire
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
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
Things I've learned from living with an unwed mother and her two small children
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
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
she gave her heart to a falling star
She asked me to read her a poem
She went out through the bathroom window
On she went. The woods were deep and still.
I put my head down and hoped to God she wasn't looking at me
it went exactly as she expected
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She threw herself from the bed
Today I clean her little fingerprints from my window
I hide in the darkness of the cry that comes from her throat
Including her knees and a dragon made from a sock
She saved me from Hylas' fate
I bet she drinks from the bottle
sunset rainwater turns her sidewalk chalk-art into a sherbert delight; a surprise gift from chaos that tumbles her like tinkling bells onto the wet grass
She tries to hold the wind, stop it from crying
She is lobbing rainbows at me from across the room and I am swallowing them like fear.
I tried to memorise her, from beginning to end
Funny -- she looks much smaller from outside her head
wipe the sweat from your brow and put a smile on your face
In the Fifties, a visitor from Great Britain to New York City notices a young Black woman driving a limousine. A portly middle-aged man, race undetermined, is in the back. Tell her story.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Someone set her face on fire and put it out with an anchor chain
Tales from the front desk
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
I don't like her because she won't like me
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
Rogue transmission, intercepted from the front…
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
The portion of her face she allows me to see
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
the way she wears her weary
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
And her legs went on forever, like staring up at infinity
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She Will Have Her Way
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
she had already found her party
She practices her speech
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
Looking back from time to time, her tears falling fast
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She keeps her lies everywhere
He said 'tentacle porn', so I stuck my dick in a toaster and went from there
completely secure
A few minutes is all it will take sometimes to completely undo me
We completely understand the public's concern about futuristic robots feeding on the human population, but that is not our mission.
Edward Feser's completely male God
Directions to Monkey Island
He was there, and then he wasn't, and with him went those memories
sense of direction
no sense of direction yet still going somewhere
line of direction
Bartender's Friend - General Directions
Warning: Splinters off into a thousand directions
Directions for Singing
Galactic Directions
Drinking from the water hose
I've had better hugs from wind gusts and dead people
Steady Sounds from the Underground
From Beyond
Exile: Escape From the Pit
An eternity spent apart from God
Getting Saved From the Sixties
There once was a man from Nantucket
Having run away from a wedding reception
Home away from home
Withdraw yourself from the situation

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