#nat

Writers do not have the privilege of sleep. There is always a story coming alive in their heads, constantly composing. Whether they choose it or not. ↗

— Coco J. Ginger

#composing #creating #creative #jamie-weise #love

In my head this cruel unspeakable truth: that we battled and we cursed and we spilled each other’s blood, we relished our taste of hell and strangled heaven’s love. ↗

— Aberjhani

#fear #heaven #human-nature #love #spirituality

I did not know I was on a search for passionate aliveness. I only knew I was lonely and lost and that something was drawing me deeper beneath the surface of my life in search of meaning. There is a hunger in people to go to those deep depths; to know that our lives are sacred; that our hearts are truly capable of love. It is a yearning to be all the we can be. A longing for what is real. ↗

— Anne Hillman

#lonely #lost #meaning #passion #passionate

I am not a one-issue voter in the sense that indicates I am an ignorant fundamentalist who only cares about one thing. I believe in protecting the environment. I believe in caring for the poor, the orphan, the widow in her distress. These are some of the so-called "issues" that many of us use to justify voting for Obama. How can we possibly claim it is Christian love for the poor and helpless that motivates us to vote for such a man when he is so committed to the killing of the most helpless among us? ↗

— Joseph Bayly

#christian-love #murder #obama #obamanation #one-issue-voting

I am not staying with the murderer," she said, her words muffled by his jacket. "I am not staying with the victim Abel Tannatek or the culprit Abel Tannatek. I am staying with the storyteller. ↗

— Antonia Michaelis

#anna-leemann #love #love

That was how she saw the storyteller for the last time - in an absolutely silent world, in a staircase. He'd hit his target. When she fell into darkness, she knew that she would never see him again. She'd love him to the very end. ↗

— Antonia Michaelis

#anna-and-abel #anna-leemann #love #silent #love

... there's a silent voice in the wilderness that we hear only when no one else is around. When you go far, far beyond, out across the netherlands of the Known, the din of human static slowly fades away, over and out. ↗

— Rob Schultheis

#nature #peace #wild #wilderness #love

Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced that even the smallest particle of the surrounding world was charged with purpose of impossible grandeur; ah, yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind- loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the high, melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies in the perfumed heat of summer night. ↗

— Mark Strand

#nostalgia #poetry #regret #imagination

A soft mist blew around them. Raindrops glistened in his hair, shimmering under the pale glow of the light post. His eyes were shadowed beneath wispy fringes, but the silver in them glinted like pools of liquid mercury. Her breath caught. It must have made a sound because his fingers tightened. His shaky exhale whispered across her face. “This,” he whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “Is why you are so bad for me. ↗

— Airicka Phoenix

#dangerous-games #mystery-suspense #passionate-love #thriller #young-adult

Our love was the affliction for which only our love was the cure. ↗

— Jonathan Safran Foer

#love