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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "I was tired. It was late. She was Russian"

I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
Besides the part where she was the only one
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 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.
What the hell was she thinking?
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
To a girl who thought she was moving away
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
It was late when he came home; it woke you up
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
She was steady
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She was never mine. I always shared her.
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
She always was devious in her beauty
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
She Was 18, It Was Summer
she was waylaid by an octopus
She was coming out as he was going in.
She was locked in time
All it said was clump and scratch, and it only said those very late at night.
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
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 moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
It was too late by the time the robots came and I couldn't, I just couldn't
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
When she was bad
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
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.
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
She is and was
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
Because, perhaps she was cold
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
She knew what she was doing
She was free
Well, I was tired of being 24 anyway, so there
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
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.
because his heart was heavy, closing, like a tired eyelid
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
She was too beautiful to be human
She was so tall, and I was so in love
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
God was created in man's image
The day I realized what being alive was
Dawn was a lucky time to give birth
Was I nearly as anti-consumerism as I had initially thought?
That was a joke, son.
No shit, there I was
What would aliens think of us if Everything was all they had?
Just how perfect was Jesus?
The world was designed for giant squid
Marilyn Monroe was a size 16
Calvin Coolidge was the 30th President
I was aghast, yet intrigued
It was hormones, it was hormones, but it was valid
I was a young boy that had big plans
Vancouver, Washington
Climbing cherry trees when I was younger
Music was better in the old days
I was once a victim of Catholic schooling
It was all God's fault
Where were you when Kennedy was shot?
I was once stranded on a dessert island
I was looking for you
Back when grunge was still cool
You knew I was a rattlesnake when you picked me up
There was a young lady of Riga
I was into them after they were hip
I wonder when I learned to smile when I was being hurt
I was once stranded on a desert island
hodgepodge was just a one-night stand, apparently
'T was
I Kissed "Weird Al" Yankovic and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt
Descartes was wrong
This wasn't how it was supposed to be
wa
I was expecting it to hurt like a fuck
The cactus that told me my mom was asleep
A poem I wrote when I was 5
What I wrote when I was missing David
There was once a Man
I was discovered by scientists, what will they call me?
When I was your age
If Dr. Seuss Were a Tech Writer
Theories as to what was inside the briefcase in Pulp Fiction
It was not a dream
Was not cleanly unmounted, check forced
That time I was almost killed by scary cult children
It was you, Atthis
Nobody cares if it was originally a nodeshell
Was Jesus resurrected as the Easter Bunny?
I was going to marry Marty
I was searching glass
This product was tested on cute, furry animals with big, sad eyes
Cybersex before it was cool
If the King's English was good enough for Jesus
The Story of the Vizier Who Was Punished
Upon my indulgence, I was dissatisfied
No important data was harmed by the ILOVEYOU worm
As I Was Going to St Ives
I was taken by a honeymoon scam
WoOz: 17 How the Balloon Was Launched
The Story of the Envious Man and of Him Who Was Envied
I Hear it was Charged Against Me
It wasn't like I was sleeping anyway
Trompe
was
Why was Cthulhu blue?
Able was I, ere I saw Elba
The Walrus was Paul
the seven hills of Rome
Here lies one whose name was writ in water
It was not a weather balloon at Roswell
Was (Not Was)
my only pin-up was Pelé
"Oskee wee wee! Oskee wa wa!"
Why I was convinced I would die young
Kilroy was here
Man was created in God's image
It was a dark and stormy night
How Candide Was Obliged to Leave the Fair Cunegund and the Old Woman
How Candide Was Brought Up in a Magnificent Castle and How He Was Driven Thence
And the sky was made of amethysts

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