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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "like she was practicing witchcraft"

She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
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.
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She is lobbing rainbows at me from across the room and I am swallowing them like fear.
She had fingernails that shined like justice
Looks like 1984 was only n years off
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
Sex and death have both spat me out like spoiled milk for the same reason. I was not afraid.
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
Because, perhaps she was cold
If I was beautiful like you
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She had incongruity for breakfast because she felt like it
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne
She is like a kaleidoscope, a strange attractor, a superstition
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She Was 18, It Was Summer
She is and was
she was waylaid by an octopus
She is like an onion
Napster was like the lamp with the wrong pricetag
She wore a bit more makeup than he generally liked
because his heart was heavy, closing, like a tired eyelid
Don't misunderstand this one, it was like palm against palm through a window
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
She doesn't like you
I was expecting it to hurt like a fuck
She was coming out as he was going in.
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
She was so tall, and I was so in love
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
Like most of my dreams, that one was licensed for commercial use
Once when I got like this I thought I was building a boat
Spinning shapes like a song out of order. In the dark she can see fireflies.
I would have liked thunder when she left
Shimmer over bridges like the river was a dream
she can't remember what it's like to be found
She tastes like gingerbread, too.
I was trying to show him my insides, you know. I like to share.
She said I dreamed like dead men
She felt like the word 'shatter'
Jesus was a reactionary reformer, just like Martin Luther in later years.
She couldn't imagine that he liked dancing
I don't remember what life was like when I was seven. I like the taste of air. What should I do?
She Liked Horses, and Flowers That Smell Pink
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
What the hell was she thinking?
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
She hit me like thunder, and I had to lie down until I could breathe again
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
She was cilantro, jalapeño, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
like nothing ever was
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She knew what she was doing
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
Besides the part where she was the only one
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
What if architecture was like web design?
Mr. Lunch liked to chase birds. In fact, he was a professional.
Most adults forget what it was like to be a child once they hit a certain age
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
What seemed like tenderness was really weakness
She doesn't look like Mother anymore
The sound was starting to get stuck in my head like "It's a Small World"
She must be what cocaine is like
She had eyes like the Blue Screen of Death
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
Two of them. Hovering there like bloated gas giants in the heavens. Good God, it was beautiful.
I was raised on red pepper and blood. I am so hot if you strike me I will light like a match.
It wasn't like I was sleeping anyway
She Came and Went Like Wind (A Selkie Story)
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
I felt I was part of something, like a voice in a crowd or an island in a sea
With him it was always like
She tasted like whiskey and blood and cemetery dirt.
she made them, like fire, expansible over all space
Morning was like an ex-wife's bruises
He was like the bottle of Champagne Krug
she gave herself that holocaust haircut. cinnamon colored clippings cover the motel bedspread like sprinkles.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
She could run a spiel like nobody's business. She could sell the world and make you wish for more.
the space was filled with love like light and that made me shine as well
She just stares at us like we're crazy
she likes to dance on the edge. it's all she's known and she won't change now
seizing on a Nugget of Truth and wielding it like it was a club
She was locked in time
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
There was just the magic I'd brought and laid there over the years, piled up in the corners like twinkling dust bunnies
To a girl who thought she was moving away
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
She was steady
She writes like the wind moves
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
When she was bad
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
She was never mine. I always shared her.
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She always was devious in her beauty
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
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.
My skin felt like I was falling
I don't like her because she won't like me
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
She was too beautiful to be human
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She was free
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
breeding like rabbits
Men like large amounts of kinetic energy
Talking about love is like dancing about architecture
I know what it's like to be dead
I thought paper cuts were like lightning
Essay on Witchcraft
How to avoid people whom you don't like talking to
In like Flynn
I like my coffee the way I like my women
Driven Like the Snow
The future like a corpse in snow
i like my body when it is with your
Everyone likes the Pope
Writing about music is like dancing about architecture
It's not so much that I like him as a person God, but as a boy he's very handsome
As You Like It I.i
As You Like It I.ii
As You Like It I.iii
As You Like It II.i
As You Like It II.ii
As You Like It II.iii
As You Like It II.iv
It looks like you are writing a letter
Like Cockatoos
Like kicking dead whales down the beach
Like nailing jelly to a tree

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