“Do other mothers behold their newborn sons as I did? Do they all find themselves stopped, breathless, in what they were doing to merely stare, in wonder, at the tiny life before them?”
― Elizabeth C. Bunce, quote from A Curse Dark as Gold
“Rose unearthed three crystal goblets that almost matched, and even found a tablecloth that hadn't been attacked by moths since its last public appearance.”
― Elizabeth C. Bunce, quote from A Curse Dark as Gold
“Paddy Eagan, stay away from falling signs for a bit and you'll be as right as rain come the weekend.”
― Elizabeth C. Bunce, quote from A Curse Dark as Gold
“Although I did point out that even the innumerable charms of Delight would be long exhausted by the end of our fortnight, he merely laughed and said I didn't understand the purpose of a honeymoon. And, indeed, he was quite convincing about that; and all I shall record here is that we missed both breakfast and the luncheon buffet at the hotel our first day, and that I came to understand why so many young wives produce children three-quarters of a year after their weddings.”
― Elizabeth C. Bunce, quote from A Curse Dark as Gold
“A curse you can't do much about, but find way to break it. Luck, though-- lass, you make your own luck.”
― Elizabeth C. Bunce, quote from A Curse Dark as Gold
“Great courage, indeed. It had to do with more than breaking curses. It meant taking risks and giving your heart into the care of a stranger, Why must I nearly lose everything to learn that?”
― Elizabeth C. Bunce, quote from A Curse Dark as Gold
Elizabeth C. Bunce
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“The Quit Man cometh, his minion at his heels.”
― John Corey Whaley, quote from Where Things Come Back
“Today you will choose your factions. Until this point you have followed your parents’ paths, your parents’ rules. Today you will find your own path, make your own rules.”
― Veronica Roth, quote from The Transfer
“Oči má šedé. Vlasy má rozcuchané a mokré. Prsty má jako buřtíky. Nehty má pokousané a polámané. Zuby má křivé, rozeklané. Má prázdný pohled, a když jste jí poblíž, vzbuzuje ve vás pocit nepřítomnosti, který se nedá slovy vyjádřit. Jejím znakem je prsten s háčkem. Jednoho dne se vám ten háček zadře do srdce. Popsat ji znamená vyjádřit, co je a proč je: přijde, když naděje pomine. Je v tisících čekáren a prázdných ulicích, v budovách ze šedého betonu a v bezejmenných hotelech. Je na druhé straně každého zrcadla. když tě oči, které se na tebe dívají, znají až moc dobře. Stojí a čeká a v jejím postoji ti už bolest neříká, abys žil, a v její přítomnosti je radost nepředstavitelná.”
― Neil Gaiman, quote from The Sandman: Endless Nights
“There is one in this tribe too often miserable - a child bereaved of both parents. None cares for this child: she is fed sometimes, but oftener forgotten: a hut rarely receives her: the hollow tree and chill cavern are her home. Forsaken, lost, and wandering, she lives more with the wild beast and bird than with her own kind. Hunger and cold are her comrades: sadness hovers over, and solitude besets her round. Unheeded and unvalued, she should die: but she both lives and grows: the green wilderness nurses her, and becomes to her a mother: feeds her on juicy berry, on saccharine root and nut.
There is something in the air of this clime which fosters life kindly: there must be something, too, in its dews, which heals with sovereign balm. Its gentle seasons exaggerate no passion, no sense; its temperature tends to harmony; its breezes, you would say, bring down from heaven the germ of pure thought, and purer feeling. Not grotesquely fantastic are the forms of cliff and foliage; not violently vivid the colouring of flower and bird: in all the grandeur of these forests there is repose; in all their freshness there is tenderness.
The gentle charm vouchsafed to flower and tree, - bestowed on deer and dove, - has not been denied to the human nursling. All solitary, she has sprung up straight and graceful. Nature cast her features in a fine mould; they have matured in their pure, accurate first lines, unaltered by the shocks of disease. No fierce dry blast has dealt rudely with the surface of her frame; no burning sun has crisped or withered her tresses: her form gleams ivory-white through the trees; her hair flows plenteous, long, and glossy; her eyes, not dazzled by vertical fires, beam in the shade large and open, and full and dewy: above those eyes, when the breeze bares her forehead, shines an expanse fair and ample, - a clear, candid page, whereon knowledge, should knowledge ever come, might write a golden record. You see in the desolate young savage nothing vicious or vacant; she haunts the wood harmless and thoughtful: though of what one so untaught can think, it is not easy to divine.
On the evening of one summer day, before the Flood, being utterly alone - for she had lost all trace of her tribe, who had wandered leagues away, she knew not where, - she went up from the vale, to watch Day take leave and Night arrive. A crag, overspread by a tree, was her station: the oak-roots, turfed and mossed, gave a seat: the oak-boughs, thick-leaved, wove a canopy.
Slow and grand the Day withdrew, passing in purple fire, and parting to the farewell of a wild, low chorus from the woodlands. Then Night entered, quiet as death: the wind fell, the birds ceased singing. Now every nest held happy mates, and hart and hind slumbered blissfully safe in their lair.
The girl sat, her body still, her soul astir; occupied, however, rather in feeling than in thinking, - in wishing, than hoping, - in imagining, than projecting. She felt the world, the sky, the night, boundlessly mighty. Of all things, herself seemed to herself the centre, - a small, forgotten atom of life, a spark of soul, emitted inadvertent from the great creative source, and now burning unmarked to waste in the heart of a black hollow. She asked, was she thus to burn out and perish, her living light doing no good, never seen, never needed, - a star in an else starless firmament, - which nor shepherd, nor wanderer, nor sage, nor priest, tracked as a guide, or read as a prophecy? Could this be, she demanded, when the flame of her intelligence burned so vivid; when her life beat so true, and real, and potent; when something within her stirred disquieted, and restlessly asserted a God-given strength, for which it insisted she should find exercise?”
― Charlotte Brontë, quote from Shirley
“Seduce my mind and you can have my body, Find my soul and I’m yours forever. —ANONYMOUS”
― Nora Roberts, quote from Vision in White
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