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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #ena
To be or not to be tethered to the sordid, sickly, stinking, sappy apron strings of Hollywood and its endless fondness for fu**ing your sh** up. If Shakespeare were alive today, I bet he’d write a scintillating soliloquy about the Broken Brood of Big Shots. I bet he’d help you out, Micky Affias, ol’ Will the Bard would. Listen, we’ll come visit you. Okay? I’ll dress up as William Shakespeare, Lucent as Emily Dickinson, and beautiful ‘Ray’ as someone dashing and manly like Jules Verne or Ernest Hemingway, and we’ll write on your white-room walls. We’ll write you out of your supposed insanity. I love you, Micky Affias. -James (from "Descendants of the Eminent") ↗
#afterlife #astrology #brothers #children-of-celebrities #class-struggle
We are touched by magic wands. For just a fraction of our day life is perfect, and we are absolutely happy and in harmony with the earth. The feeling passes much too quickly. But the memory – and the anticipation of other miracles – sustains us in the battle indefinitely. ↗
Staring at the floor, she didn't even look up as the final contestant entered. Not until she heard a deep, rich baritone that filled the hall with the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. Her heart pounding, she looked up to see Stryder holding his mother's lute. Only it wasn't a love song he sang. More like a limerick, it was a song about a woman who fancied herself a goose. And a man who gobbled her up. Laughter and applause rang out as soon as he strummed the last note. Breathe, breathe. It was the only thing Rowena could think. And even that couldn't get her to take a breath as Stryder approached her. He smoothed her hair and straightened her feathered crown. "Methinks my goose has molted." Rowena laughed as more tears streaked down her face. ↗
The watchful Mishmorat commented as she waited. “Your people are so bare—so pale and plain.” “Oh?” Eena turned her head towards Niki, zeroing in on her long spotted arms. Their skin was arguably more striking—darker, artistic, with varied patterns and rich color. “I’m sorry,” the Mishmorat quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just I’ve never seen such unblemished skin before. There’s nothing to look at.” Eena quickly pulled the new t-shirt down over her bare back. She chuckled at Niki’s comment. “I’ll admit your people are very beautiful, much more interesting to gaze at. But, I’m okay with my ‘plainness’.” Eena contemplated her own pale legs as she pulled the clean pants over them. “You’re kinda like a clear, cloudless sky,” Niki said, cocking her head wonderingly. “And you’re like…..a beautiful sky dotted with shapely clouds.” “Only dark clouds.” “Storm clouds.” “Yeah,” Niki grinned devilishly, “That’s me—a storm cloud. ↗
#mishmorat #niki #richelle #richelle-goodrich #the-harrowbethian-saga
Real terror is a crippling experience. You sweat so much that your skin goes all wrinkly like when you've been in the bath all afternoon. And then the scent of your sweat changes. It smells like cat pee, no doubt from the adrenalin. However hard you wash, it won't come off. It smothers you, as your muscles become frozen with acid and your mind paralysed by despair. ↗
