Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She chased him until he caught her"

She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
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
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, that he should weep for her?
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 is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
My friend is dating someone who likes him far more than he likes her
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
She won't kiss him until she marries him
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
She thought about giving him her heart
He and She
she had already found her party
She lights everything up. He glows in the dark.
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
I met him two days ago and now he wants to fly me to Peru
I married him because he was not mean
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She keeps her lies everywhere
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
When he was five, his father made him murder his imaginary friend.
he doesn't know, but her eyes widen too far
He and she are one
serene. She sips her tea
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
pretends to sleep as he looks her over
The Last Thing He Expected to Happen to Him in Hollywood
she lit her thumb on fire
She Will Have Her Way
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
The sun was caught playing unashamedly in her auburn hair, setting our world on fire with giddiness
At night, she still believes in him
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
How He Didn't Understand Her Whichever
He was confirming to himself that they were laughing with him after all
She couldn't imagine that he liked dancing
I never met him. He broke my heart.
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
They will love him long after he is gone.
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
At night, her eyes closed, she would
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
"Describe life in two words" she said. "Survival test" he replied.
He says she says
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
She knows no truth except her own.
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She practices her speech
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
Tell him, she told me
I didn't love him until I feared I would lose him. One does not love breathing.
she gave her heart to a falling star
While I watched the leaves get caught in her hair.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
I knew enough about him to know his name and what kind of snowball he could make
Hands cupped into a half circle, he bent foward to help her catch a light
He Said, She Said
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
he (or she)
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
Now he dances to bring her back.
I think he only loves the world for him.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
I don't like her because she won't like me
He was there, and then he wasn't, and with him went those memories
He cries for me, all these years later. He'll never stop 'til I join him in the grave.
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She always was devious in her beauty
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me
If he's late, you can always start without him
the way she wears her weary
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 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 so quiet that nobody heard her
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
Mr. Lunch liked to chase birds. In fact, he was a professional.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She asked me to read her a poem
Is she really going out with him?
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She always confused her greys with white.
To Him She Is A Beauty
Is it fair for him to love me when she craves his touch?
She Misses Him
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
She doesn't know what he sees, but sometimes it makes his face beautiful
He gave her a daisy
And we killed him and he's dead.
he gives rest unto him who comes at the eleventh hour
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
I'm the only person who'd ever told him to his face he was beautiful.
He breaks her heart on a daily basis
'twas the telltale tink-tock of marionettes, he felt certain, that jingle-jangled from behind her shower curtain
An ocean away and here he was, seeping into her
As the band laughed, her finger traced his spine, and he folded into her
Zip him back up, he sucks.
She makes the sign of the teaspoon, he makes the sign of the wave
All he left her was alone
I killed him today, he who does not exist
He said I'm better off without you, 'til I showed him my tattoo
Tomorrow, he must tell her that he doesn't love her anymore.
He loved her so much, he wanted to do her autopsy
She was coming out as he was going in.
he/she
He who has ears, let him hear
she, he, and me
He forgets I am my own fierceness; it's not for him
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.
making certain he was touching her
he has her eyes
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
he can find a cure for us, if we help him
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
Jesus said, "I love him, for he is my brother." He was talking about everyone.
She wore a bit more makeup than he generally liked
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She flies with her own wings
She was never mine. I always shared her.
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
It's not so much that I like him as a person God, but as a boy he's very handsome
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
The portion of her face she allows me to see
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
The one he murdered once still loves him
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
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
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
does she need to touch her own face to know?
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
A man who never sees a pretty girl without loving her a little

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