#land

In the end, the wind takes everything, doesn't it? And why not? Why other? If the sweetness of our lives did not depart, there would be no sweetness at all. ↗

— Stephen King

#life #roland #stephen-king #time #wind-through-the-keyhole

You were firing questions at me today, trying to get inside my head. You asked if I believed in God. I told you of course I do- I've always had a strong sense of self. Your house is quiet now, you're sleeping upstairs and I'm alone with this blasted, idiotic book that purports to tally the sum of my life, and fact is, maybe I do. But maybe, ka-lyrra, your God doesn't believe in me. -- From The (Greatly Revised) Black Edition Of The O'Callaghan Book of the Sin Siriche Du ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#immortal-highlander #karen-marie-moning #sin-siriche-du #life

He didn't just kiss, he claimed ownership. Took her mouth with urgency, as if his life depended on his kissing her. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#karen-marie-moning #the-dark-highlander #life

I spent thirty-three years in another man's shadow. I went everywhere he went, I helped him with everything he did. I was in a sense a part of him. When you live like that for a long time, you gradually lose track of what it is you yourself really want out of life ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#life

There was only silence. It was the silence of matter caught in the act and embarrassed. There were no cells moving, and yet there were cells. I could see the shape of the land, how it lay holding silence. Its poise and its stillness were unendurable, like the ring of the silence you hear in your skull when you're little and notice you're living the ring which resumes later in life when you're sick. ↗

— Annie Dillard

#land #life #matter #silence #life

Here, are the stiffening hills, here, the rich cargo Congealed in the dark arteries, Old veins That hold Glamorgan's blood. The midnight miner in the secret seams, Limb, life, and bread. - Rhondda Valley ↗

— Mervyn Peake

#coal #coal-miner #glamorgan #hills #miners

When I was a kid, I remember playing hockey outside and whenever you did, you thought about playing for Finland vs. Sweden. That's just the way it was. ↗

— Teemu Selanne

#did #finland #hockey #i #i remember

Over a long time, the coming and passing of several generations, the old farm had settled into its patterns and cycles of work - its annual plowing moving from field to field; its animals arriving by birth or purchase, feeding and growing, thriving and departing. Its patterns and cycles were virtually the farm's own understanding of what it was doing, of what it could do without diminishment. This order was not unintelligent or rigid. It tightened and slackened, shifted and changed in response to the markets and the weather. The Depression had changed it somewhat, and so had the war. But through all changes so far, the farm had endured. Its cycles of cropping and grazing, thought and work, were articulations of its wish to cohere and to last. The farm, so to speak, desired all of its lives to flourish. Athey was not exactly, or not only, what is called a "landowner." He was the farm's farmer, but also its creature and belonging. He lived its life, and it lived his; he knew that, of the two lives, his was meant to be the smaller and the shorter. ↗

— Wendell Berry

#land #life #change

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too. ↗

— Elizabeth I Tudor

#kings #men #queens #royalty #strength

But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed. ↗

— Federico García Lorca

#broken #destroyed #entwine #federico-garcia-lorca #love