Under the blistering day he walked towards the night; and under the ice of the naked stars he longed for the return of day. Happy are the lands of the North whose seasons are poets, the summer composing a legend of snow, the winter a tale of sun. Sad the tropics, where in the sweating-room… Continue reading Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
I look at you, and I just love you, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you. — Alexandra Bracken, Never Fade ( Hyperion Book CH; First Edition, November 5, 2013)
What is more dangerous than to become a poet? which is, as some say, an incurable and infectious disease. — Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote. Published by Francisco de Robles 1605 (Part One), 1615 (Part Two). Published in English 1612 (Part One), 1620 (Part Two).
I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away! ― Walter Scott, Ivanhoe. (Penguin Classics; Reprint edition October 1, 2000) Originally published 1819.
… If the dead can come back to this earth and move unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or… Continue reading Paul Hoffman
There are instincts which are deeper than reason. — Arthur Conan Doyle, from “The Nightmare Room,” Collected Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. (Delphi Classics; 6 edition May 13, 2011)
The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides. The sea is only the embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion;… Continue reading Jules Verne
He stood at the window of the empty cafe and watched the activities in the square and he said that it was good that God kept the truths of life from the young as they were starting out or else they’d have no heart to start at all. — Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses.… Continue reading Cormac McCarthy
No man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself… Continue reading Patrick Rothfuss
And now let us love and take that which is given us, and be happy; for in the grave there is no love and no warmth, nor any touching of the lips. Nothing perchance, or perchance but bitter memories of what might have been. ― H. Rider Haggard, She. (Oxford University Press October 22, 1998)… Continue reading H. Rider Haggard
The Vale of Soul-Making 