#carol

Death doesn't happen instantly. For a little while, you hover around your body, confused. What you want more than anything is to go home, to be safe, to know you're okay. But my life was over. ↗

— Caroline Flohr

#death-and-grief #flohr #flor #grieving #heaven

Ain’t nothing too serious. Even death is a joke on the old devil, if we are living for the Lord. from "Beyond Sandy Ridge ↗

— Nancy B. Brewer

#bestseller #carolina-rain #civil-war #historical-fiction #kindle

Come here into the warmth," he said easily. He reached for her, taking her hand and pulling her toward him. "I've been waiting for you." He stroked her hair, shifting a bit to let the light fall on her. "For a very long time." She, too, reached for him, following a line in the air along the length of the forming scar that marred his chest. A corona flared around him until she moved past the point where the sunlight hit her eyes. She stared at his chest, at the gashed and ill-healed flesh, and he, seeing her attention, took her hand and brought her fingers to his mouth. She felt the warmth of his breath, the pressure of his lips, soft and warm. "I wish you had never been wounded," she said. "Even though it brought you home to me. ↗

— Carolyn Jewel

#dream-sequence #olivia #sebastian #the-spare #dreams

His eyes darkened. "You're in pain, aren't you?" He touched her temple, and she leaned her head against his hand. "Yes." The inside of her head felt stuffed full like an iron band slowly tightened around her brain. "Still having bad dreams?" "Nightmares." She put her palms flat to his chest and spoke to the buttons on his coat. "Always the same. A face looming over me. I can't breathe. I feel helpless. And frightened." "Hush, my heart." His fingertips nudged her chin up so that she looked into his face. "Hush." She leaned against him. "Why can't I remember?" "It isn't time, yet." His hands landed on her shoulders. ↗

— Carolyn Jewel

#olivia #sebastian #the-spare #dreams

Memories whirled in the back of her head. Not frightening this time. The owner of that voice made her smile. He protected her, and he loved her. When she was with him, the world felt right. As long as she was with him, she was safe. He entered the room, crossing at an angle to her so that she saw just his shoulders and a glimpse of flat stomach. Not a stitch of clothing covered him. Not one. She could see the backs of his thighs and his bare behind. Round and strong and firm. Dark hair cut short gave his profile greater sternness. She knew beyond certainty she had every right to be here, with him perfectly naked. Her heart swelled with joy, a feeling so intense she wanted to cry out to the world. He stopped at the window and stood there, one arm resting atop the sash, staring at the hills rising toward Scotland. His arm came forward on the sash, and he shifted so that he faced her. "Well," he said in a soft voice that made her breath catch. His voice was velvet, liquid velvet, and she was drowning in it, filled all the way to her soul. That voice, a woman could love. "Good afternoon." Bluer eyes she'd never seen. Nor more piercing ones. She drowned in eyes of an incredible, piercing blue. The light shimmered as a cloud crossed the sun. But this man, this man with eyes like frost on a window, whose eyes made battle-hardened men quail and who seemed so foreign to tenderness, made her complete... ↗

— Carolyn Jewel

#dream-sequence #olivia #sebastian #the-spare #dreams

Legend has it that during the festival of Eostre, all fires had to be extinguished in the Goddess’ honour and could only be relit from a sacred flame in the centre of the village. The new fire was seen as a symbol of sacredness and purity, something which everyone wanted to bring into their homes at such a lovely time of year when everything was fresh and new. ↗

— Carole Carlton

#carole-carlton #festival-of-eostre #imbolc #irish-celts #lughnasadh

And now it is time for my story to end, because we have finally reached the beginning. ↗

— Caroline Flohr

#faith #heaven #inspirational #faith

The festival of the summer solstice speaks of love and light, of freedom and generosity of spirit. It is a beautiful time of year where vibrant flowers whisper to us with scented breath, forests and woodlands hang heavy in the summer’s heat and our souls become enchanted with midsummer magic. ↗

— Carole Carlton

#carole-carlton #festival-of-the-summer-solstice #imbolc #irish-celts #lughnasadh

It was the first smile of my life. Of course, that is a ridiculous thing to say; I had been smiled at often, the big man had smiled at me not a minute since. And yet I say: it was the first smile, because it was the first that ever went straight into me like a needle too thin to be seen. ↗

— Carol Birch

#carol-birch #menagerie #smile #life

Could it be that the great Bonaparte is incapable of fathering a child? that it is not I who am at fault but you? ↗

— Carolly Erickson

#good-one #josephine-bonaparte #life