Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "she is whatever I believe her to be"

Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
I have what I believe to be a photo of Olympia Dukakis in her underwear in 1977
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
How to be strong for her, when all you want is to depend on her
At night, her eyes closed, she would
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
If you meet a strange, confident woman, she may well be a witch
She asked me to read her a poem
There's a sign on the wall. But she wants to be sure. Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
how many bird nests would be made from her lovely hair
If you loved her, you'd be home by now
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 gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
She flies with her own wings
she can't remember what it's like to be found
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
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
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
All the things she had at one point wanted to be
If she were an insect, she'd be a moth in search of a flame
she didn't believe in kissing outside of art
It will be a love story ... for she will be my heroine for all time
She teaches a night class. Psychology 100, to be precise.
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She always was devious in her beauty
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.
Art is whatever makes you proud to be human.
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
Sandra will do as Sandra always does, that is, whatever she wants
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She keeps her lies everywhere
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
A tentative laugh, she expected to be interrupted
I met her today, the girl I used to be
When I look into her eyes, I no longer care about what the world thinks. This is what it feels like to be alive.
If I'd have shot her when I met her, I'd be out of jail by now.
I don't lose the irony that I believe my reflection to be a stranger
It must be morning when she dreams.
Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues.
She didn't believe in transcendence
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
Do You Believe In True Love, She Asks
Reality can't be whatever I want it to be, but maybe it's not so clear-cut, you know?
Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
I don't like her because she won't like me
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She was never mine. I always shared her.
serene. She sips her tea
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
the way she wears her weary
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She Will Have Her Way
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
Wouldn't it be nice if I could remember her
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
She always confused her greys with white.
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
she gave her heart to a falling star
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
she lit her thumb on fire
She practices her speech
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
She must be what cocaine is like
so that all her children will be adventurers in light
Wouldn't it be nice if I could remember her as a firework
she couldn’t go and be beautiful
Wanting only to be the honeysuckle to her butterfly
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
do not look upon her; you shall be blinded
Wouldn't it be nice if I could forget her
Let's be foolish and believe in ridiculous things
she can scream so loud you'll be looking for your ears on the floor
She tells stories as if she knows what the ending will be.
She could be a businesswoman
When she shouts BE QUIET THE NEIGHBORS WILL HEAR IF YOU'RE NOT QUIET
Once upon a time, I imagined she would be a river
She was too beautiful to be human
At night, she still believes in him
Dust mop so magic she can not believe how fun it is to clean up after people
She Had to Be Sure
she wants to believe
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
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.
To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target
I can't be a scientist because I don't believe in God.
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
She thought about giving him her heart
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
The portion of her face she allows me to see
does she need to touch her own face to know?
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
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 Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
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
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
she had already found her party
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Each thing she learned became part of herself, to be used over and over in new adventures
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
Surah 60 She that is to be Examined
She knows no truth except her own.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
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.
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
The sad thing is, if you get her you'll be sick of her in a year
Be
To do is to be
We tend to judge people only on what we perceive them to be
Be yourself
Should I be happy?
I never thought it would be like this
The Let's Be Secret Friends Shack
The Hedgehog Can Never Be Buggered At All
"Hey wouldn't it be cool if we could do this" rule
You do not have a right to not be offended
Let It Be
You will know your action. You are present there, not thinking of somewhere else you ought to be.
Do whatever you need to do to get that taste out of your mouth
Things that seem too good to be true rule
Well if it's gonna be THAT kinda party, then I'm gonna stick my dick in the mashed potatoes!
Hula hoops are round, they're staying round, and they'll be around forever
If voting changed anything, they would make it illegal
If not voting could change the system it would be illegal
Must be a lesbian
The best kind of bartender
You're too young to be so old
Chant and be Happy
How to be invisible
Any song can be a love song
This program cannot be run in DOS mode
They'll None Of 'Em Be Missed
play dumb
The Be

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