This morning could have been perfect. The cruel truth is they have never been. Give us loneliness or give us death.
Oh, we do not understand death, we never understand it; creatures are only truly dead when everyone else has died who knew them.
He could never be anything more than what he was: the inheritor of weakness and unbridled emotion, a creature possessed by the past, and carrying its curse forever into the future--
Cats were not, in her experience, an animal with much soul. Prosaic, practical little creatures as a general rule. It would suit her very well to be thought catlike.
The general air of insecurity and affection made it too easy for him to imagine these once-a-year fabulous creatures as the cubicle dwellers most of them were in everyday life.
Yes, it was dangerous, but we are not put into this world, Mr. Burton, to avoid danger when an important fellow creature's life is at stake. You understand me?
She seemed like a creature made to attract everyone and express nothing real, though it would take a master observer, like Magnus, to know it.
There are any number of magical creatures, mostly female, whose singing can bring about horror and death. Sirens, undines, banshees, Bananarama tribute bands...
In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says, -- he is my creature, and maugre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me
Women are so caring, kindhearted and soft creatures; I wonder how one could harm or hurt them for any reason.
What he was scared of was not that maybe she was a creature who survived by drinking other people's blood. No, it was that she might push him away.
Mr Pinch accordingly, after turning over the leaves of his book with as much care as if they were living and highly cherished creatures, made his own selection, and began to read.
In the blink of an eye, the fairytales told to children were as real as death and taxes. Vampires, shifters, trolls, demons and creatures of myth, were as real as the air we breathe.
It was as natural as breathing to all human beings, and to all warm-blooded creatures, for that matter, to wish quick deaths for monsters. This was an instinct.
The day here is a something without value, a mere torment suffered by living creatures as they await the night. Night is deliverance.
Mortals were such fickle creatures. They called into the dark, demanded answers and attention from forces they could not comprehend, and yet when they had that attention and those answers, they complained about them.
Look Fabian, the world is full of sheep, don’t settle for being a sheep, even if you do reside over those creatures, act more like a Ram.
After all the world is indeed beautiful and if we were any other creature than man we might be continuously happy in it.
At that moment, the creature's back breached the waves, its body cutting through the water in a sinuous arch, rainbows sparking off the iridescent scales on its back. Rusalye.
Thinking about such things soothed the creature as it dug at the base of a tall oak tree, deep into the ground, covering itself with dirt and leaves and moss; hiding, healing, waiting.
We are flawed creatures, all of us. Some of us think that means we should fix our flaws. But get rid of my flaws and there would be no one left.
