#beg

In every end, there is also a beginning. ↗

— Libba Bray

#ending #beauty

It is hard to begin to move when you don't know where you are moving, how to move, or if you are going to get there. ↗

— Peter Nivio Zarlenga

#get #going #hard #how #know

You raze the old to raise the new. ↗

— Justina Chen

#beauty

Never restart a journey and use the same road that failed you before. ↗

— Dennis E. Adonis

#courage #failures #life #new-beginning #progress

There is a picture of me in their heads, a picture of someone I don't know yet. She is not the chubby girl with the braces and bad perm. She is not the girl hiding in the bathroom at recess. She is someone new, a blank slate they have named beautiful. That is what I am now: beautiful, with this new body and face and hair and clothes. Beautiful, with this erasing of history. ↗

— Amy Reed

#new-beginnings #beauty

I wouldn't know where to start." "He who chooses the beginning of the road chooses the place it leads to." "Thoreau?" "Harry Emerson Fosdick... ↗

— Kami Garcia

#chooses #leads-to #road #start #beauty

Part broken - part whole, you begin again. ( from 'Why books seem shockproof against change.' THE TIMES: BOOKS) ↗

— Jeanette Winterson

#broken #change #change

Dans chaque fin, il y a un début. ↗

— Libba Bray

#end #beauty

Then, when the stars came out, Ma took out her fiddle. We all quieted down while she tuned the strings, and I got the funniest feeling. I felt as if I was looking at everyone from far away in space, or maybe even in time. They all looked so beautiful sitting in the darkness of the woods under the stars. Their faces were pink and warm and happy in the firelight. I felt perfectly happy and perfectly sad all at the same time, and tears came into my eyes. ↗

— Kristin Kladstrup

#the-book-of-story-beginnings #beauty

Do you think I should be paying my addresses to Mrs. Martin, my dear Miss Fitzhugh?” he whispered. “Martin doesn’t look the sort to have enough stamina to service two women. And goodness knows you could probably exhaust Casanova himself.” Again this insinuation that she must be a sufferer of nymphomania. Behind her fan, she put her lips very close to his ear. “You’ve no idea, my Lord Hastings, the heated yearnings that singe me at night, when I cannot have a man. My skin burns to be touched, my lips kissed, and my entire body passionately fondled.” Hastings was mute, for once. He stared at her with something halfway between amusement and arousal. She snapped shut her fan and rapped his fingers as hard as she could, watching with great satisfaction as he choked back a yelp of pain. “By anyone but you,” she said, and turned on her heels. ↗

— Sherry Thomas

#hastings #helena #sherry-thomas #beauty