...my dreams are tangled in images of stars and clouds and firelight - we go camping at night - it's my lucid dream of being with you...
Sometimes the fluffy bunny of incredulity zooms around the bend so rapidly that the greyhound of language is left, agog, in the starting cage.
Pues yo me hago tres preguntas muy simples: ¿Cómo ha obtenido ese poder? ¿Cómo lo está utilizando? Y: ¿cómo se le puede arrebatar al muy hijo de puta?
As an experienced editor, I disapprove of flashbacks, foreshadowings, and tricksy devices; they belong in the 1980s with M.A.s in postmodernism and chaos theory.
I always think of the Pacific Northwest as giant trees and rain and clouds and dampness, like the Native American art from that area. That all says Pacific Northwest to me. Salmon. It really only exists on the Western side of the Cascades.
Contrast and compliment. The blue is never more blue than it is when paired with orange. And the orange is never bluer than when eaten on a cloud in the sky.
The judge said he was going to throw the book at me. I hoped it was an ebook in the cloud, and not a heavy dictionary.
My thoughts are all over the place as I fall asleep, and images of clouded roses and angry green eyes flow through my dreams.
Somehow, the days of summer with their glimmering enchantment of dancing ladybugs and sailing clouds had faded into grey. Maddie’s heart had somehow faded with it.
It was a chilly morning after the night's rain, and the sun hung in the sky like a pale coin lost by someone high up in the clouds.
Always forgive, but never forget, else you will be a prisoner of your own hatred, and doomed to repeat your mistakes forever.
We never realize just how many other lives we can help when their paths cross our own.
The best thing about India is the freedom that one enjoys here, which is also the worst thing about it.
On a cloudy night, when nothing seems above, still, there is love. Always love. For something, from someone. It's never done. Never.
Complains are like the clouds that produce no rain no matter how thick they gather. Never depend on your complaint thinking they are stair cases. Drop that thing.
The streetlight forge speech bubbles of illumination in the air. A faint glow from the moon casts eerie shadows behind the dark clouds.
Hers is a timeless life weaving through other longer lives like a flash of lightning in a clouded evening sky.
I kept reaching for my muses, my wandering muses, floating on clouds filled with their passions.” (Muses of Wandering Passions, p. 64)
Light died in the west. Night and tears took the Nation. The star of Water drifted among the clouds like a murderer softly leaving the scene of the crime.
I can look beyond the clouds to feel your love the sun will rise again to end the darkness
Be like a star and shine, whether people care or do not care; the clouds are temporary, but your beauty is permanent.
