Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She was the queen of the Underground monster kingdom in the last game who left her husband Asgore after he vowed to kill all humans. She made it her mission to protect any humans who fell into the underground. She tried to adopt you."

Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
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
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
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.
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
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 grew a little older, while he was telling her
She was too beautiful to be human
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
All he left her was alone
She was never mine. I always shared her.
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
Any woman who thinks she is pro-life should ask herself
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
To a girl who thought she was moving away
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
She who makes the Moon the Moon and, whenever she is full, sets the dogs to howling all night long, and me with them.
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She always was devious in her beauty
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
Who am I to critique that which she is?
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
does she need to touch her own face to know?
She was coming out as he was going in.
she seems bored with me after all this time
Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
All that was left of her was a damp handkerchief
She asked me to read her a poem
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
I set my sister up with her husband, and all I got was this great dress and a trip to Hawaii
she is the sort of woman who, when put to the magnifying glass, refused to burn
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
she looked at me then whispered, we are all made of stardust
she had already found her party
She practices her speech
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
she made them, like fire, expansible over all space
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
She said the dance is a prayer. A prayer to toss into the tide all the weight of oblivion and humiliation. This is not a dance for one, fool - where are you?
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
she gave her heart to a falling star
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
We hold the proud distinction of being among the very last humans who will ever die
She Who Holds the Sky
It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?
I don't like her because she won't like me
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
God is a pretty girl across the bar who smiles and waves in your direction; and you think she is waving at you
At night, her eyes closed, she would
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
An ocean away and here he was, seeping into her
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
A man who never sees a pretty girl without loving her a little
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
she lit her thumb on fire
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
She Will Have Her Way
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
She knows no truth except her own.
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
My friend is dating someone who likes him far more than he likes her
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
We hold the proud distinction of being among the very last humans who will ever live
She thought about giving him her heart
She Who Is
It was men who made breasts into a secret.
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
She keeps her lies everywhere
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She flies with her own wings
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
She always confused her greys with white.
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
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 who abandons does not return
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
serene. She sips her tea
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
The Princess who was Hidden Underground
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.
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
the way she wears her weary
Of all the dorm rooms in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
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
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me
Meanwhile, the PILOT, who has been laughing hysterically through the entire sequence, finally loses it. He falls out of his chair and bangs his head against the panel, causing the ship to lose control and crash into a nearby planet
He says she says
I killed him today, he who does not exist
All the things she had at one point wanted to be
She makes the sign of the teaspoon, he makes the sign of the wave
all she ever wanted
he (or she)
He and She
The kind who tells you she's bipolar just to make you trust her
all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
He Said, She Said
she likes to dance on the edge. it's all she's known and she won't change now
He and she are one
lest she lose all else
Hands cupped into a half circle, he bent foward to help her catch a light
It will be a love story ... for she will be my heroine for all time
she, he, and me
you never felt her hot blood on your face but, hey, who's keeping track
She couldn't imagine that he liked dancing
He was the kind of man who shacked up for shelter
He who does not forget his first love will not recognize his last
She lights everything up. He glows in the dark.
Her lack of response opened a gate through which my mind started to wander, into a wilderness where the shadows all had teeth...
Seems I might have stolen the blue part of her rainbow, but all I really did was make it bigger, a way bigger blue
As the band laughed, her finger traced his spine, and he folded into her
Dust mop so magic she can not believe how fun it is to clean up after people
All that’s left of her is black print
it doesn't matter who I was, all that matters is who I am
She doesn't know what he sees, but sometimes it makes his face beautiful
After all, who looks at the sky anymore?
The artifact was completely impenetrable to all forms of matter except living human flesh
Monster Truck Rally Announcer guy who comes over and eats all your food
he/she
For every rich man who tries to leave this world for a better one with his fancy tomb surrounded by mourners, there are many more who perish alone in the cold, forgotten by all but God.

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