He said he preferred to feel the earth sing through his feet, and that shoes stopped you from hearing the song of the earth.
There are humans, and there are ghosts. Vampires are just in a different state of transition. Not part of the human world and not part of the spirit world. We are just caught somewhere in between life and the real death.
Our story has been told, our song has been sung. You're a road I’ve already traveled, and from it, I have moved on. "Already Traveled
Watch a movie that makes you laugh or listen to a song that makes you cry. Embrace your emotions and be proud of what you feel.
The head has no answers, and the heart has no questions, Jack would say." Quoting his teacher and good friend Jack Kakakaway
Did we not look out together upon the dark waters of the lake And behold there the constellations Of both hemispheres at once? -Love Songs of the Cinnamon Wastes
People who care nothing for their country's stories and songs,' he said, 'are like people without a past- without a memory- they are half people
The activity of interpreting might be understood as listening for the 'song beneath the words.
Inside my head / or in a distant / Galaxy / Soft I hear it / Calling me." from the song "In the Blackness" in the poetry collection "Terra Affirmative".
What I did I can’t undo. But I can address it, and undress you.” This is the chorus in a new song I’m writing called “Mannequin Love.
As with all young ones, a deeper perception comes clearer with time... Roe'vaash recieved the grace to release the anger and pain he had carried and suffered for so long...
Imagine music gushing down the hollow places in your bones, and making you liquid, and giving you speed. Imagine music turning your body into a song.
She took comfort in the familiarity of his smell, knowing that if she lost all her possessions and her home, at least she would have her family.
She felt the depth of her losses before they were realized, and she wondered, Is there still hope? Did she even dare hold on to such a tenuous thing as hope?
There is something deeply satisfying in shaping something with your hands. Proper artificing is like a song made solid. It is an act of creation.
One day that song stopped being on the outside of me and went deep inside. It was there all the time, especially when I was feeling particularly lonely.
Remember why we live. Remember warmth, remember good food. Remember friends, and song, and evenings spent around the hearth.
He could tell by the way animals walked that they were keeping time to some kind of music. Maybe it was the song in their own hearts that they walked to.
Life’s too short to not forgive those who hurt us. I trust you to do what’s right. Right by your own heart.…Forgiveness sets you free.
A turtle is like a lizard in a bicycle helmet, and I think that’s romantic. That reminds me, I should write a love song called, “Dinner for two—plus one.
The cat hair floated in the air like a sound vibration, and I plucked it like a guitar string. Sometimes I can be so musical I’m like a living love song.
