#beginning

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

There are as many worlds as there are kinds of days, and as an opal changes its colors and its fire to match the nature of a day, so do I. ↗

— John Steinbeck

#new-beginnings #steinbeck #travel #change

No great idea in its beginning can ever be within the law. How can it be within the law? The law is stationary. The law is fixed. The law is a chariot wheel which binds us all regardless of conditions or place or time. ↗

— Emma Goldman

#binds #chariot #conditions #ever #fixed

No ordinary effort stops the wheel. In sleep it spins without resistance. Passively, falling deeper, lacking the will to activate any change. ↗

— Stephen Demone

#change #new #orange #project #struggle

A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare to the jeweled vision of a life started anew. ↗

— Aberjhani

#bridges #faith #famous-quotes #famous-quotes-from-classic-books #healing

Aware that his disappointment has its source in a defective education, he looks with anxiety on his other daughters, whose minds, like lovely buds, are beginning to open. Where shall he find a genial soil in which he may place them to expand? ↗

— Emma Willard

#aware #beginning #buds #daughters #defective

I am an old man, and I am dying...Will you remember me, Jacob?" I promise, one day, I will join you, Mr. Gold." Mr. Gold's laughter sounded like a trumpet and brought light to the corners of the room. ↗

— Noah Benshea

#death #end #memory #death

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously. ↗

— Charles Dickens

#birth #clocks #coincidence #famous-beginnings #heroes

Just as abruptly, he'd become a father. While preparing the book for publication, he'd been dating a woman named Sarah Coowe, an infectious-disease specialist at MGH. They were evenly matched in many ways: sharp-dressed, sharp-tongued, and devoted to their careers and personal freedoms to the exclusion of any serious interest in so-called romance. They spent ten months together. A few weeks after they broke up -- Sarah initiated the split -- she called to say that she was pregnant. "It's mine?" asked Affenlight. "He or she," replied Sarah, "is mostly mine." They named the child Pella -- that was Affenlight's idea, though Sarah certainly had the final say. For those first couple of years, Affenlight conspired as often as he could to show up at Sarah and Pella's Kendall Square townhouse with expensive takeout and a new toy. He was fascinated with his daughter, with the sheer reality of her, a beautiful something where before there'd been nothing. He hated kissing her good-bye; and yet he relished, couldn't keep himself from relishing, the total quiet of his townhouse when he walked in, the scattered books and papers and lack of baby-proofing. ↗

— Chad Harbach

#so-called-romance #art