A Certain Slant of Light

The library smells like old books — a thousand leather doorways into other worlds. I hear silence, like the mind of God. I feel a presence in the empty chair beside me. The librarian watches me suspiciously. But the library is a sacred place, and I sit with the patron saint of readers. Pulsing goddess light moves through me for one moment like a glimpse of eternity instantly forgotten. She is gone. I smell mold, I hear the clock ticking, I see an empty chair. Ask me now and I'll say this is just a place where you can't play music or eat. She's gone. The library sucks.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. Like a desert wanderer afraid of mirages, I gazed at my oasis, but he was real.

To desperately hope," I whispered James let out a breath. "To gratefully believe.

Someone was looking at me, a disturbing sensation if you're dead.

That I am your heart's secret fills me with song. I wish I could sing of you here in my cage. You are my heart's hidden poem. I reread you, memorize you every moment we're apart.

He kissed me for a long moment, holding my shoulders, perhaps to keep me from pressing my whole body against his. Then he tried to lift my bag. "My God," he said. "What happened?" "I found out one may check out twenty books at a time from the school library.

Your mind will never lose anything forever that's worth keeping.

Just walk up to your hell & give it a push. Run through it & i'll be waiting on the other side.

i would court you with passion, if things were different. you'd never get me off your porch swing.

Like a glimpse of eternity instantly forgotten. She is gone.

Dear sir: twelve hours is as twelve years to me. I imagine you in your home, smiling, thinking of me. That I am your heart's secret fills me with song. I wish I could sing of you here in my cage. You are my heart's hidden poem. I reread you, memorize you, every moment we're apart.

Books are boring," James said as he wrote. "They line the walls like a thousand leather doorways to be opened into worlds unknown," I offered.

About the library," he whispered. He took out the pencil stub from his pocket and poised it over the page. "Will you write like Mr. Blake or like yourself?" I inquired. He wrote and whispered the words aloud as he did. "I am in the library. It smells like old stuff." "It smells familiar," I suggested. "It smells like words." Because his left side was to me, I couldn't easily take his hand to write. "Books are boring," James said as he wrote. "They line the walls like a thousand leather doorways to be opened into worlds unknown," I offered. He thought about this and then wrote with a smile, "I hate books.

Boys and girls hid in the library stacks or behind the gym and flew at each other with no promise of love or even kindness, tasting one another in clumsly attempts to steal pleasure before they could be hurt or hated.

he was watching me and when our eyes met, i had no fan to cover my face, no way to hid my feelings. i was desperate for him, and he could see it, all the way in me.

I had asked her for help, and she had sent me to the lions. I knew that she was trying to save her little girl, but sometimes mothers with the best intentions kill their daughters all the same.

Those who cry to be young again should think twice before they seal those prayers.

It´s hard to have you with me but not to be able to take your hand or kiss you -James

i felt my being flutter. each tousled head that came through the door i wanted to be his, but no and on, a dozen boys entered, yet not the one.

...You deserve to be happy. What can I do?" Don't send me away, I thought. He looked at me again. "What do you want?" "I want to taste an apple," I said. And your lips, I thought.

I would court you with a passion, if things were different.

It seemed as if humans had lost the ability to make their own fun. The more they were gifted with inventions, the less they needed one another. They didn't sing or play the fiddle at the hearth; they turned on the stereo. They didn't tell stories on the porch; they watched television.

It was all real and blazing with detail. But I was shadow, light as mist, mute as the wallpaper.

As I look around the quiet room, I see a thousand leather covers like doorways into worlds unknown.

The library smells like old books-a thousand leather doorways into other worlds." "Dear sir, I was called away and couldn't bring you, but now I feel haunted. I know that sometimes you felt I was a part of you and that losing me would leave a hole in your heart, but that's not true... Please forgive me... I am sorry that I didn't say goodbye.

I studied a crescent moon hung crooked in a plum purple sky and thought about what it would be like to truly be seen.

A sea of dreams trapped in a span of pressed pages

Pulsing goddess light moves through me for one moment like - Here Mr. Brown paused again. Like a glimpse of eternity instantly forgotten.

I would court you with a passion, if things were different. You’d never get me off your porch swing.

in the wings, as often mothers and grandmothers are, ready to catch the children should they need saving,