#ed

These lights, this brightness, these clusters of human hope, of wild desire—I shall take these lights in my fingers. I shall make them bright, and whether they shine or not, it is in these fingers that they shall succeed or fail. ↗

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

#love

If hot food is they key to maintaining an expedition's stamina, then low grade gut-rot alcohol is the key to sustaining its sense of pleasure. ↗

— Tahir Shah

#alcohol #expedition #food #journey #pleasure

Really, Bob? Really?" asked the woman. "You think the best course of action is to spend an entire week's salary on food tickets? That's what you think? Because you want to hear gyros and fried cheesecake for the rest of the week? Not that I should be surprised. It's just the kind of harebrained thing you'd do." "Oh yeah, Sharon. Lay it on. Lay in on think. Right here in public where everyone can see!" The man, who was only a couple feet from me, lifted his arms and moved in a circle. "Did anyone not hear my lovely wife berating me? ↗

— Chloe Neil

#food

From the dim regions beyond the mountains at the upper end of our encircled domain, there crept out a narrow and deep river, brighter than all save the eyes of Eleonora; and, winding stealthily about in mazy courses, it passed away, at length, through a shadowy gorge, among hills still dimmer than those whence it had issued. We called it the "River of Silence"; for there seemed to be a hushing influence in its flow. No murmur arose from its bed, and so gently it wandered along, that the pearly pebbles upon which we loved to gaze, far down within its bosom, stirred not at all, but lay in a motionless content, each in its own old station, shining on gloriously forever. ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#eleonora #love #river #short-story #silence

I’ve lived every beat loving you, since I first met you. ↗

— Nicole Williams

#love

It was a completely new feeling for me–like someone had just released a million, tiny butterflies loose in my stomach, and they were feverishly flying up into my head and making me lose my mind. ↗

— Laura Miller

#butterfly-weeds #love #love

…he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered. He wanted her to be a virgin and not a virgin all at once. He wanted to know her. Intimate secrets: Why poetry? Why so sad? Why that grayness in her eyes? Why so alone? Not lonely, just alone - riding her bike across campus or sitting off by herself in the cafeteria - even dancing, she danced alone - and it was the aloneness that filled him with love. He remembered telling her that one evening. How she nodded and looked away. And how, later, when he kissed her, she received the kiss without returning it, her eyes wide open, not afraid, not a virgin’s eyes, just flat and uninvolved. ↗

— Tim O'Brien

#the-things-they-carried #tim-o-brien #virgin #love

Placing one last kiss over her heart, he lifted his head to find her staring at him with The Look—the one that told a guy when a woman was leaving Let’s Screw For Fun City and headed straight for Let’s Pick Out China Town—written all over her pretty face. ↗

— Gina L. Maxwell

#gina-l-maxwell #seducing-cinderella #love

Can I be blamed for wanting a real body, to put my arms around? Without it I too am disembodied. I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings...but there’s something dead about it, something deserted. ↗

— Margaret Atwood

#arms #body #dead #desire #fantasy

I love bright red drinks, don’t you? They taste twice as good as any other color. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#red #love