#ado

The music echoes in the emptiness. It reminds us where we came from and where we’re bound. ↗

— David Mutti Clark

#death-and-dying #griot #music #spirituality #troubadour

Its okay, Beth.I don't want my life to go back to the way it was before i met you.I thought i had it all,but really i was missing something. feel like a completely different person now.This might sound corny,but i feel like i've been asleep for a long time and you've just woken me up... ↗

— Alexandra Adornetto

#halo #love #xavier #life

Anyone can write. Some people can write a bit better than others; they're called authors. Then there are some who can write better than authors; they're called artists. ↗

— Walter Moers

#the-city-of-dreaming-books #walter-moers #dreams

You’re livin’ in Badass World, baby,” he whispered in my ear. “Fair warning, until I fix what I cut in you, you’re there to stay. ↗

— Kristen Ashley

#hawk-delgado #dreams

So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one, in the end -- not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words 'I have something to tell you,' a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother's papery ancient hand in a thicket of your hair, the memory of your father's voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children. ↗

— Brian Doyle

#dreams

Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. ↗

— Charlotte Brontë

#fidelity #love #love

Orphans? Would you really? Adopt children?" "There are advantages. If they turn out badly, we can blame their natural parents. We can also choose our own assortment of ages and genders. We can even get them ready-grown, if we wish. ↗

— Loretta Chase

#humor #ismal #leila #love #orphan

Lan told me once taht Malkier lives so long as one man wears the hadori in pledge that he will fight the Shadow, so long as one woman wears the ki'sain in pledge that she will send her sons to fight the Shadow. I wear the ki'sain, Master Aldragoran. My husband wears the hadori. So do you. Will Lan Mandragoran ride to the Last Battle alone? ↗

— Robert Jordan

#last-battle #malkier #dreams

His small compliments and offhand remarks formed a new scripture, and in breathless conversations and lonely, dream-drunk nights they built whole theologies from them. ↗

— Carey Wallace

#infatuation #love #projection #dreams

When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. ↗

— Brian Doyle

#joyas-voladoras #dreams