...she imagines her body curled in the narrow monk's bed, knees to chin, her own irrefutable geography, but she sees the blood of her futile heart seeping out over her chest and arms and legs, flooding across the rough wooden floor, down the narrow w...
You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew n...
A garden path,' write the landscape architects Charles W. Moore, William J. Mitchell, and William Turnbull, 'can become the thread of a plot, connecting moments and incidents into a narrative. The narrative structure might be a simple chain of events...
Las Vegas suggests that the thirst for places, for cities and gardens and wilderness, is unslaked, that people will still seek out the experience of wandering about in the open air to examine the architecture, the spectacles, and the stuff for sale, ...
Yet each flower, each twig, each pebble, shines as though illuminated from within, as once before, on her first day in the Garden. It’s the stress, it’s the adrenalin, it’s a chemical effect: she knows this well enough. But why is it built in? ...
If Adam and Eve were not hunter-gatherers, then they were certainly gatherers. But, then, consumer desire, or self-embitterment, or the 'itch,' as Schopenhauer called it, appeared in the shape of the serpent. This capitalistic monster awakens in Adam...
we write every day, we fight every day, we think and scheme and dream a little dream every day. manuscripts pile up in the kitchen sink, run-on sentences dangle around our necks. we plant purple prose in our gardens and snip the adverbs only to threa...
He had made a vow, a private promise to the world in the long dark watches of the night, that if he did survive then in the great afterward he would always try to be kind, to live a good, quiet life. Like Candide, he would cultivate his garden. quiet...
When the Deep Purple falls, Over sleepy garden walls, And the stars begin to flicker in the sky, Thru the mist of a memory You wander back to me, Breathing my name with a sigh. In the still of the night, Once again I hold you tight, Tho' you're gone,...
All my life, I always fail to grow flowers. I tried roses, my favorite, but they died. Whenever I see flowers and gardens beautifully designed...I just feel the sense of their beauty. At least I have the chance to touch and see as looking simply is f...
See everything, but judge nothing. Just choose your own path and let others choose their own. See everything, but judge no one. Just focus on your own path and let others focus on their own. See everything, but judge not what you see. You have your o...
The place is changed now, and many familiar faces are gone, but the greatest change is myself. I was a child then, I had no idea what the world would be like. I wished to trust myself on the waters and the sea. Everything was romantic in my imaginati...
I had not seen "Pride and Prejudice," till I read that sentence of yours, and then I got the book. And what did I find? An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a common-place face; a carefully fenced, highly cultivated garden, with neat borders and de...
It's promising and seductive, that huge Italian family, sitting around the dinner table, surrounded by olive trees. But it's not my family and I am not their family, and no amount of birthing sons, and cooking dinner and raking leaves or planting the...
I'd rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but i know you'll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird..... Mockingbirds don't do one thing to but make music for us to en...
Sing a song of suspense in which the players die. Four and twenty ravens in an Edgar Allan Pie. When the pie was broken, the ravens couldn't sing. Their throats had been sliced open by Stephen, the new King. The King was in his writing house, stiflin...
Justin Quayle: [Tessa tells Justin to slow down, wanting to drive a woman, her baby, and her brother who are walking 40 kilometers back to his home] We can't involve ourselves in their lives, Tessa. Tessa Quayle: Why. Justin Quayle: Be reasonable. Th...
[singing at Andrew's mother's funeral] Aunt Sylvia Largeman: Thanks for the time that you've given me. The memories are all in my mind. And now that we've come to the end of our rainbow, there's something I must say out loud. Yes, you're once, twice,...
Sam: So what are you here for? Andrew Largeman: What are you here for? Sam: Waiting for a friend, you? Andrew Largeman: I uh... Sam: Oh fuck, that was so nosy. I'm sorry, ack. I am. I am so nosy. I didn't I didn't mean to be. I am sorry. Andrew Large...
Andrew Largeman: Do you lie a lot? Sam: What do you consider a lot? Andrew Largeman: Enough for people to call you a liar. Sam: People call me lots of things... Andrew Largeman: Is one of them liar? Sam: I could say no, but how would you know I'm not...
Mark: Hey, vagina! Andrew Largeman: Hey, what's up, guys? Uh, Sam, it's Mark, Dave, and you remember Jesse. Jesse: Hey. Sam: Hey. Dave: What's up? Mark: Hey, nice to meet you. I'm sorry I said vagina just now. I didn't know you were here. Sam: Oh, th...
