#m

When I'm writing I don't dream much; it's like the dreaming gets used in the writing. ↗

— Ursula K. Le Guin

#dreams

I can't think about him, but I can't forget him, either. It's not right to forget someone you love. ↗

— Anna Sheehan

#love

Lothaire: Hate scars. I'm physically flawless--why can't everyone be? Everywhere Lothaire went, people stopped and stared. Of course, then they usually ran. ↗

— Kresley Cole

#immortals-after-dark #kresley-cole #lore #lothaire #paranormal-romance

Tyranny anywhere is a threat to freedom everywhere. ↗

— Alex Storozynski

#tyranny #age

For you, a comet, under a blue sky, leaves trail of color, For you, a star, dreams of being able to kiss you, dream to hear your voice For you, full moon, keep vigil for you, my girl, keep vigil for you, my love. ↗

— Miguel Ángel Sáez Gutiérrez

#love #moon #stars #dreams

The girl dreams she is dangerously ill. Suddenly birds come out of her skin and cover her completely ... Swarms of gnats obscure the sun, the moon, and all the stars except one. That one start falls upon the dreamer. ↗

— C.G. Jung

#archetype #children #dreams #psychology #symbolism

The faery lords are immortal. Those who have songs ballads and stories written about them never die. Belief worship imagination we were born of the dreams and fears of mortals and if we are remembered even in some small way we will always exist. ↗

— Julie Kagawa

#imagination #immortality #dreams

In a Pyongyang restaurant, don't ever ask for a doggie bag. ↗

— Christopher Hitchens

#dogs #humour #korean-cuisine #north-korea #pyongyang

What's the most important thing in the world? It's love, and I look at that as an energy, not a sentiment. ↗

— Eddie Albert

#i #important #important thing #look #love

To this point, he could not really have said that he loved William. Feel the terror of responsibility for him, yes. Carry thought of him like a gem in his pocket, certainly, reaching now and then to touch it, marveling. But now he felt the perfection of the tiny bones of William’s spine through his clothes, smooth as marbles under his fingers, smelled the scent of him, rich with the incense of innocence and the faint tang of shit and clean linen. And thought his heart would break with love. ↗

— Diana Gabaldon

#love