#angel

I know you. I know this isn't you. And even if it is, I still love you. As much as I always have. You will always be mine. I will always love you, I promised you that when you left, and it's true now. ↗

— Melissa de la Cruz

#blue-bloods #jack #love #schuyler #vampire

The full impact of silver--liquid fire, hot and flowing hit me hard in that place in your belly that doesn't exist for food, but for something else entirely. It exists solely to possess the feeling that it barely held in check right then. I don't know what it was. I don't think it has a name. ↗

— S.L. Naeole

#food

In California, the state's huge dairy herd produces twenty-seven million tons of manure a year, the particulates and vapors from which have helped to make air quality in the argiculturally intensive San Joaquin Valley worse than it is Los Angeles. ↗

— Paul Roberts

#economics #environment #environmentalism #food #green

She's kind of a walking poem, she's this perfect beauty...but at the same time very deep, very smart. ↗

— Johnny Depp

#beauty #deep #perfect #poem #smart

I took the thin magazine from the pouch in front of me and began to thumb through it. I felt self-conscious, as if I shouldn't be there. My mind began to wander, as I knew it would, back to the boonies. I was on patrol again. Monaco was on point. Peewee and Walowick followed him. Lobel and Brunner were next, then Johnson, the sixty cradled in his arm as if it were a child. We were walking the boonies, past rice paddies, toward yet another hill. I was in the rear, and for some reason I turned back. Behind me, trailing the platoon, were the others. Brew, Jenkins, Sergeant Dongan, Turner, and Lewis, the new guys, and Lieutenant Carroll. I knew I was mixing my prayers, but it didn't matter. I just wanted God to care for them, to keep them whole. I knew they were thinking about me and Peewee. ↗

— Walter Dean Myers

#fallen-angels #my-feels #soldiers #vietnam #war

Death didn't happen like I expected it to. There was no Grim Reaper, no chorus of angels, no army of demons. And my life didn't flash before my eyes. Death was the color of softness, a delicate green under a thin film of baby powder. There was nothing but soft random thoughts and picture, drifting through me like a child's breath blowing through a dandelion after making a wish. And as I died, I was held by my love. I wanted to soak up her love and smuggle it with me to wherever my soul was headed. -character Ron (Broken) ↗

— J. Matthew Nespoli

#color-of-death #death #dying #grim-reaper #death

I can just barely tell when you're afraid because that is the only emotion I have been able to recognize. ↗

— S.K.N. Hammerstone

#angels #angels-and-demons #the-rift #death

The kindness sent from one compassionate soul to another during the time of loss of one held so dear allows the sorrow-filled heart to open wide, filling the space of emptiness that grief may have created with a renewed sense of peace, compassion, and love. ↗

— Molly Friedenfeld

#compassion #death #god #grief #heart

The death has an only color. ↗

— Sabrina Benulis

#archon #demons #love #sci-fi #urban-fantasy

And while Luce dreamed below of the most glorious wings unfurling-the likes of which she'd never seen before-two angels in the rafters shook hands. ↗

— Lauren Kate

#fallen #dreams