Wherefore is there ice and snow, chilling winds and bitter nights? Is it to mock the earth for its sunshine? No, not so! We forget that sunlight is impossible without shadows; that for every day there is a night; that for every joy there is a pain; t...
I prayed like a man walking in a forest at night, feeling his way with his hands, at each step fearing to fall into pure bottomlessness forever. Prayer is like lying awake at night, afraid, with your head under the cover, hearing only the beating of ...
I touched the moon last night; a golden glow beyond my grasp. Eons before me it rested there. It will remain when I am dust. My hand now glows from the embrace. Voices echo through nights past, and with the glow, caress my face. My finger faints from...
He got worse as the night wore on. Tessa tried not to think about the wound, tried not to think about what she was going to do if he died and left her alone. Instead, she concentrated on doing what she could to keep the fever down and keep him comfor...
Babies of around one year old are often active by day and wake frequently at night, for no obvious reason. Then a mother can feel desparate for sleep yet equally desparate to comfort her baby when he needs her at night. I have spoken to many mothers ...
Mina Seward: [doing an impression of Dracula] It reminds me of the broken battlements of my own castle in Transylvania. [chuckles] Mina Seward: Oh, Lucy, you're so romantic! Lucy Weston: Laugh all you like. I think he's fascinating. Mina Seward: Oh, ...
Nicholas: So, you've played recently? New Member Ted: Oh, about a year ago. I was working in Los Angeles. Nicholas: I hear the London office is very good, too. It just sounds like a lot of fantasy, role-playing nonsense. New Member Ted: [leans in] Yo...
The Professor noted two nymphs with strawberries on their heads, a DayGlo Amish lady, a mustachioed man in a rainbow apron. He wrote Saturday Night Fever, then crossed it out and wrote Drag Ball + Bollywood and underlined it twice.
The psycho-babble lavished on her by her mother in a prior life found her, whispering of trauma and coping, how this was not her fault and blaming herself at all was useless. She would eventually try to believe this, as soon as she was behind her loc...
My life edges out any sense of sanity I can have, and I come to realize there won't be a point where things can be ordinary again, or as ordinary as I would have them.
Aren’t all fairy tales based in fact? You yourself are supposed to be nothing more than a myth. Pandora’s box is a story parents read to their children at night,” she countered. “That means life itself is a fairy tale. Like the characters, we...
No matter how much individuals do through their own efforts, they cannot actively purify themselves enough to be disposed in the least degree for the divine union of the perfection of love. God must take over and purge them in that fire that is dark ...
But at sunset the clouds gathered again, bringing an earlier night, and the snow began to fall straight and steadily from a sky without wind, in a soft universal diffusion more confusing than the gusts and eddies of the morning. It seemed to be a par...
Because there is no challenge, there is no reason to work hard. And with no reason to work hard, we all have become lazy. Lazy people are like cancer. They spread. Before you know it, the entire country is destroyed.
My father never told us how the stories worked. He didn't reveal the layers, the nuggets of information, the fragments of truth and fantasy. He didn't need to -- because, given the right conditions, the stories activated, sowing themselves.
To write, for example, a crime that is horrible but which somehow 'resembles' the butterfly, which would be light and fine like the butterfly. I could also describe the butterfly, but bearing in mind the horrible scene of a crime, so that the butterf...
But as she continued and finished her tale, I could tell that her heart was elsewhere, and when she excused herself to go to bed, she left without saying good night. After that, the princesses in her stories were always beautiful. Always.
You know, when the list of people who have a really good reason to want you dead covers more than two sheets of paper, you might want to start rethinking your life choices.
It may well be on such a night of clouds and cruel colors that there is brought forth upon the earth such a portent as a respectable poet. You say you are a poet of law; I say you are a contradiction in terms. I only wonder there were not comets and ...
That morning, he was afraid of becoming old, and it was a very specific kind of old age he feared, one which had nothing to do with the number of years since your birth. He feared the premature old age of missed opportunities.
He doesn’t move a muscle except for his eyes that follow her path as though somehow he can see her contrails. His whole existence revolves around a girl who left his orbit, and he was the one who spun her off her axis.
