To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due. ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 4: Season of Mists. (Vertigo; Gph edition, March 10, 1999) Originally published 1990.
I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on… Continue reading Percy Bysshe Shelley
The warmly cool, clear, ringing, perfumed, overflowing, redundant days, were as crystal goblets of Persian sherbet, heaped up—flaked up, with rose-water snow. ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or, The Whale. Richard Bentley October 18, 1851 (Britain), Harper & Brothers November 14, 1851 (U.S.)
Choose love! Choose love! Enter the rose garden, let your soul make peace with the thorns. — Rumi, The Forbidden Rumi: The Suppressed Poems of Rumi on Love, Heresy, and Intoxication. (Inner Traditions; Tra edition, February 14, 2006)
Whenever the sun is shining, I feel obligated to play outside! ― Charles M. Schulz, The Complete Peanuts, Vol. 1: 1950-1952. (Fantagraphics; First Edition edition, May 17, 2004)
What if you slept? And what if, In your sleep You dreamed? And what if, In your dream, You went to Heaven And there plucked A strange and Beautiful flower? And what if, When you awoke, You had the flower In your hand? Ah… what then? — Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “A Strange and Beautiful Flower,”… Continue reading Samuel Taylor Coleridge