Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "Every day she told herself she was happy"

I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
The day she lost the light
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
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.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
On the third day, she rose
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She told me to say that
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
She is stupidly keeping herself a secret, when I know she has sparkly things to show me
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
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.
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
She threw herself from the bed
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
She was watching me and I didn't know it.
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
Because, perhaps she was cold
We light candles on the day she died
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
She bought a new smile every week when we first started seeing each other. Then I had to buy them.
She was locked in time
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
The walls she had built around herself cracked and crumbled
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
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
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
She is and was
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
So happy she drools
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
Tell him, she told me
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
She was never mine. I always shared her.
What the hell was she thinking?
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
She spent most of the day sleeping in my shirt pocket
Any woman who thinks she is pro-life should ask herself
She told me I'd make a good Satan
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
She was so tall, and I was so in love
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
Each thing she learned became part of herself, to be used over and over in new adventures
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
she gave herself that holocaust haircut. cinnamon colored clippings cover the motel bedspread like sprinkles.
She was steady
When she was bad
She always was devious in her beauty
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
To a girl who thought she was moving away
She sang of fantastic green islands, and sparkling fish, never telling that she haunted the waters
She threw out all my letters
Dust mop so magic she can not believe how fun it is to clean up after people
To Him She Is A Beauty
she spins
She is that most perfect art
She took a California tilt and never came back.
She makes the sign of the teaspoon, he makes the sign of the wave
she is his sounding board
I bet she drinks from the bottle
happy day (user)
She misses me
I don't like her because she won't like me
She only wants me for sex
The things she wonders about
She teaches a night class. Psychology 100, to be precise.
She favors black bras
She is music (user)
It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?
Isabelle is a fierce hunter; she won't stand for the wrong prey
all she ever wanted
Christ Was Born on Christmas Day
Stoned music memories
Surah 60 She that is to be Examined
She really does want to clap along, but at the same time she doesn't want to let the bird get out.
Three years she grew in sun and shower
The portion of her face she allows me to see
Isn't she a little young?
the way she wears her weary
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She draws with pencils, you draw with words
why she feels the irrational need to capture little fragments of glass
she looked at me then whispered, we are all made of stardust
Trouble Comin' Every Day
Every Day an Asshole
I fall in love with my migraine, every day he seduces me with a kiss.
English As She Is Spoke: Familiar Dialogues, Part II
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
She Sells Sanctuary
Isn't She Lovely
She Who Holds the Sky
Things She Carried
She sweeps with many-colored brooms
She wanted to go to Paris
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
lest she lose all else
she stev (user)
I was Christian for a day
That's all she wrote
So then she said
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
She doesn't know what he sees, but sometimes it makes his face beautiful
steady as she goes
If she didn't love you she would kill you
She hated the screen porch, but she loved the heat
She is music_root (category)
All the things she had at one point wanted to be
She practices her speech
She Looks Good, but She Has an Ugly Heart
Murder She Wrote
She thought about giving him her heart
How she saw the moon
She is the ocean.
She only wants me for tech support
She sketched on paper napkins
She is not a girl, she is a woman. No, wait, she's a girl.
alive she cried (user)
She Will Have Her Way
She had the most wonderful grin in the world
Mira, she says
She sat back in the bleachers
we meet on the street for the first time every day
he/she
English As She Is Spoke: Familiar Dialogues, Part III
Who am I to critique that which she is?
She makes my teeth naked
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She stood on my feet; and we danced
she didn't believe in kissing outside of art
She must be what cocaine is like
She tasted like whiskey and blood and cemetery dirt.
She is glowing on fire. can she see that?
She could hit four octaves above high-C, but she never performed in public
she couldn't go and be beautiful
She cleaned up for me at least.
Happy Days
Many happy returns of the day
What She Said
(s)he
The vacuum she left
She Fucks Me
This is why she stays
How's she cutting?
Empty at last she had room to unfurl
The child, she cannot sleep
She didn't want the truth; she wanted to make a good man squirm
She collected broken hearts
She is precious landscape.
Something she sees in men, sometimes
The Things She Could Forget, If I'd Forget Them Too
Somebody told me a story. It was pretty but boring. It was Saturday night, my stories usually end up that way.
Things To Do Every Single Day
Now there's something you don't see every day, Chauncy
why i smoke weed every day
She smiles in colors
Is she really going out with him?
She kissed me gently, just once, then walked away crying
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
She is in the heartbeat you hear around you, listen

If you Log in you could create a "Every day she told herself she was happy" node. If you don't already have an account, you can Create A New User...

Everything2

Findings:

Epicenter

Cool Staff Picks

New Writeups

Login
Password