#fin

When our inner child is not nurtured and nourished, our minds gradually close to new ideas, unprofitable commitments and the surprises of the Spirit. ↗

— Brennan Manning

#gospel

No definite science without trial & error. ↗

— Toba Beta

#error #science #trial #science

How can you sit there, calmly eating muffins when we are in this horrible trouble, I can’t make out. You seem to me to be perfectly heartless." "Well, I can’t eat muffins in an agitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them." "I say it’s perfectly heartless your eating muffins at all, under the circumstances. ↗

— Oscar Wilde

#algy #calm #calmness #heartless #heartlessness

He's a clever little thing, isn't he?" She leaned in to drop a kiss on the kitten's soft head, reaching to move him off Griffin's chest. He reached for her hand, stopping her. "And what about me?" he asked, his eyes burning into hers. "What about you?" "Am I not clever enough for a kiss?" His voice was gruff. She favored him with a shy smile. "You're more than clever enough, Griffin Channing. ↗

— Michelle Zink

#griffin #griffin-and-helen #griffin-channing #helen #helen-cartwright

FIDELITY, n. A virtue peculiar to those who are about to be betrayed. ↗

— Ambrose Bierce

#virtue

Floating in the sky, which was just beginning to turn pink, was a large, oblong cross about which flew several silent crows, like a sinister flock of winged coffins. ↗

— Agustin Espinosa

#cross #crow #sky #surreal #surreal

Avoiding me, Quen downed a swallow of wine. "Trent is a fine young man," he said, watching the remaining wine swirl. "Yes... " I drawled, cautiously. "If you can call a drug lord and outlawed-medicine manufacturer a fine young man. ↗

— Kim Harrison

#quen #rachel-morgan #trent-kalamack #medicine

The problem with introspection is that it has no end. ↗

— Philip K. Dick

#ego #infinity #introspection #meditation #self

I suppose that saves us from having to determine what to do with a butler who goes around killing people. It certainly reflects badly upon our domestic staff. Still, I shall miss him. There was a man who knew how to brew a good cup of tea. ↗

— Gail Carriger

#hyperbole #satire #satire

Patch's eyes grazed me with silent heat. My reflection swirled in them, red hair and lips aflame. I was connected to him by a force I couldn't control, a tiny thread that tethered my soul to his. With the moon at his back, shadows painted the faint hollows beneath his eyes and cheekbones, making him look breathtakingly handsome and equally diabolical. His hands steadied my face, holding me still before him. The wind tangled my hair around his wrists, twining us together. His thumbs moved across my cheekbones in a slow, intimate caress. Despite the cold, a steady burn coiled up inside me, vulnerable to his touch. His fingers traced lower, lower, leaving behind a hot, delicious ache. I closed my eyes, my joints melting. He lit me up like a flame, light and heat burning at a depth I'd never fathomed. His thumb stroked my lip, a soft, seductive tease. I gave a sharp sigh of pleasure. Kiss you now? he asked. I couldn't speak; a wilted noe was my reply. His mouth, hot and daring, met mine. All play had left him, and he kissed me with his own black fire, deep and possessive, consuming my body, my soul, and laying waste to all past notions of what it meant to be kissed. ↗

— Becca Fitzpatrick

#hush-hush #nora #patch #equality