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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "the worst years ended while she was still very young"

She grew a little older, while he was telling her
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
In the end it did not matter. The ocean was still there.
When I was very young, I knew that the world was made of honey.
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
Several thousand years later and the angel was still as boring as sin
Thirteen Years And One Decade Down! A Melbourne Nodermeet To Celebrate The End Of High School And The Decaversary Of Everything2 (Bring A Hat)
This morning, while you were still asleep
At night, she still believes in him
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
I once was a clueless young noder
Every poem about thunder was written under the protection of a roof, or, at the very least, an empty sky
She was steady
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
If it was still then-
When I was young Time had no wings
Last year was always better
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
Thirty years since the end of the world
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 knew what she was doing
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
Sex with the Stewards of Gondor was always very lame
All it said was clump and scratch, and it only said those very late at night.
It's nice to think of you, once in a while, still smiling.
It was one of the worst things I have ever done
I have been alone while I was with many girls
Pain and beauty, our constant bedfellows. Young as I was, I understood.
Escape while you still can.
I was pretty sure that wasn't how slasher films were supposed to end, but you won't see me complaining.
Isn't she a little young?
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
When she was bad
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
She was coming out as he was going in.
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
Besides the part where she was the only one
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
You can still be very hurtful when you do what's right.
Back when our blood was still warm
It's really very silly, I was thinking, they are all acting so weird
(and it wasn’t in my time nor yet in your time: but a very good time it was for all that)
The innocent greediness of the very young
The class valedictorian was still tripping balls when he was bailed out in time to give the commencement speech at graduation
Grammatical and syntactic puzzles
When I was ten years old
There was a rose that faded young
When I was Fair and Young
It was 30 years ago today, Miyamoto taught the kids to play... (e2poll)
it was years before they met again, by chance
When I was five years old, I knew I was going to die
I was young and I needed the money
When I woke up this morning, I thought I was a parallelogram. I still have a sneaking suspicion.
In the end, it was a Good Thing that I rushed Pierre.
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
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 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 locked in time
Drownzsurf's December End of Year Log, 2014
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
I'm seeing more rear end car wrecks in the year 2000
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
in the end it was better that we were apart
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
She is still undoing me.
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
She is and was
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
she is still a ghost
For a few more precious seconds, the body I was born with was still in one piece
Back when grunge was still cool
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
Eating a live sea urchin while it's still squirming
I don't hate people. Honestly. But the best conversation I've ever had still wasn't as good as the worst catnap I've ever had.
I was very, very drunk
the fire burned and burned; it was so great and now so much time has passed and the fire is still burning, but it requires attendance
the ocean is never calm and still, but the depths are very different from the surface
I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.
If all you did was node, your writeups wouldn't be very interesting, would they?
My very first mentor was a heroin junkie
Why I was convinced I would die young
I was told you were very pretty
When We Were Very Young
The monster stares back at me. I'm still young enough to believe that, with the right shoes, I can outrun it.
I didn't know such things when I was young
There was a young lady of Riga
I spent one year in love and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt.
Looks like 1984 was only n years off
I was my mom for a while
That Was The Year That Was
I am no longer the foolish young man I once was
I was once young and had a home
I was the worst lay you ever had
Jesus was a reactionary reformer, just like Martin Luther in later years.
This essay was due a year ago
Why almost every node was written in the year 2000
When I was young
I was a young boy that had big plans
Love cookies
Still she cried, and still the world pursues
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
Stuff was started stuff had ends
The Very End of You
To a girl who thought she was moving away
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
What the hell was she thinking?
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
She still has my Borges book
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Somebody told me a story. It was pretty but boring. It was Saturday night, my stories usually end up that way.
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
Three years she grew in sun and shower
She was never mine. I always shared her.
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
In the end it was always a stranger's hand
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
She always was devious in her beauty
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She was cilantro, jalapeño, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
The Day the World was about to End
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
What she writes in my diary, I will read in twenty years
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
cities full of ravens, silent concrete echoing back while she sings
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
Hours pass, but she still counts the minutes
Because, perhaps she was cold
She was too beautiful to be human
She was so tall, and I was so in love
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
On she went. The woods were deep and still.
she was waylaid by an octopus
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
Still Looking for Ends
She Was 18, It Was Summer
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
When you know things are just meant to be
The Night is Still Young
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
It's only love: at the end of the day, there are still thunderstorms and sunsets
She was free
The "Safety Dance" London end of year 2004 perfumed ponce meetup
he listened so well, he was still curious.
Can we still like each other knowing the worst about each other?
we broke it in days, years later still broken
I was burned and bleeding, but the galaxy still spun on
We're all still very different
The brief nightmare waits anxiously for dawn, tearing flesh and drinking spilled blood while it still can.
We met at quarter past young; still, we grew up together
Your smile was embarrassed. Your fingers were dew-covered. I am still smiling.
Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young
The beginning was the end

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