Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "this was the last place she told him she would be"

I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
Once upon a time, I imagined she would be a river
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
Tell him, she told me
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She was too beautiful to be human
It will be a love story ... for she will be my heroine for all time
She tells stories as if she knows what the ending will be.
She told me to say that
Each thing she learned became part of herself, to be used over and over in new adventures
She was so tall, and I was so in love
It was something that sang out while burning itself up, at the risk that nothing would be left.
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
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.
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
She could not live with or without him
she can scream so loud you'll be looking for your ears on the floor
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
When she was bad
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
She won't kiss him until she marries him
When she shouts BE QUIET THE NEIGHBORS WILL HEAR IF YOU'RE NOT QUIET
She was coming out as he was going in.
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
I'm the only person who'd ever told him to his face he was beautiful.
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
If she were an insect, she'd be a moth in search of a flame
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She always was devious in her beauty
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
I never told you she stole my heart
some of the pain that she endures would bring a strong man to his knees
The total sum of all things would be zero if it was not for love
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
At night, she still believes in him
Empty at last she had room to unfurl
She was locked in time
It was something that sand out while burning itself up, at the risk that nothing would be left.
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
A tentative laugh, she expected to be interrupted
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
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.
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
She is and was
she can't remember what it's like to be found
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
She could be a businesswoman
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
If she didn't love you she would kill you
To Him She Is A Beauty
She told me she wouldn't
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
It must be morning when she dreams.
She Had to Be Sure
When she is talking to him
As she waits to tell him
Is it fair for him to love me when she craves his touch?
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
There's a sign on the wall. But she wants to be sure. Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him
She Bit Him In Two
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
She quietly hugged him back. At 8:30 she ate the rest of him.
Is she really going out with him?
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
She told me I'd make a good Satan
To a girl who thought she was moving away
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
What the hell was she thinking?
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
I would have liked thunder when she left
If you meet a strange, confident woman, she may well be a witch
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
She was never mine. I always shared her.
I Was the Girl You Were Told Not to Be
I would have tried, but Charlotte kept Charlotte in the world of Charlotte and she barely heard me
She was steady
She Misses Him
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
She teaches a night class. Psychology 100, to be precise.
He made me promise I would do this when I was next sad. So I promised myself I would not be sad again.
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
At night, her eyes closed, she would
All the things she had at one point wanted to be
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
If all you did was node, your writeups wouldn't be very interesting, would they?
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
she couldn’t go and be beautiful
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
If I was the ocean, what would you be to me?
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
If I was any good at this, I would be getting paid
She was free
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
She knew what she was doing
She started to fall, and knew she would never come back
Because, perhaps she was cold
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
She must be what cocaine is like
the god that can be killed was never god in the first place
Besides the part where she was the only one
She told me she remembers three things about me
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
Surah 60 She that is to be Examined
She Was 18, It Was Summer
she was waylaid by an octopus
She thought about giving him her heart
If you would be seated
Imagine how the world would be if only wrecking balls could destroy flowers
I was supposed to be dead when this picture was taken
I never thought it would be like this
the last shall be first and the first shall be last
Would you be more of a Jekyll or a Hyde?
loyalty can be found in surprising places
Would I have hid myself away if I had known I'd never be found?
That Would Be Enough
But what kind of violence would not be natural? Is not cruelty natural?
If I were Twenty-One I would be happy
What tasty food would be distusting if eaten over rice?
If only our tongues were made of glass, how much more careful we would be when we speak.
how many bird nests would be made from her lovely hair
Sushi would be what sophisticated human aliens would eat.
The Ten Commandments revised
this is unlike the story it was written to be
The easier option would just be to electroplate the chicken.
nor was there anything to be attained that you didn't already have
If you would be so kind
If voting changed anything, they would make it illegal
If not voting could change the system it would be illegal
The best kind of bartender
it wouldn't be so bad if people like you would have become ghosts too
I used to think of sobriety as a purgatory, and that to be under the influence of drugs was relief from it. Now that I'm older I believe the opposite to be true.
If I were Twenty-One I would determine, even if I could never be anything else in the world, that I would be a thoroughbred
They knew what our pain would be.
If there were more people like you, there would be more people
can it be that it was all so simple then

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