#nigh

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously. ↗

— Charles Dickens

#birth #clocks #coincidence #famous-beginnings #heroes

Saffy could tell by the feel of the darkness that Caddy was awake. She said, "Caddy, how far back can you remember?" "Oh," said Caddy, "ages. I can remember when I could only lie flat. On my back. I can remember how pleased I was when I learned to roll over. ↗

— Hilary McKay

#night #sisters #age

What do your parents do? Do they travel a lot?" My brow wrinkled. "No, they don't." I was tired of the interrogation. "Do yours?" He blinked. "What?" "Do your parents travel a lot? Are they still married? How many in your family? How old are you? What classes do you have? Boxers or briefs? What's your GPA? Do you always go around knocking strange girls off their feet and then hammering them with a barrage of personal questions?" I finished with a cocky smile. Tristan hid a grin behind his fist. Mr. Exotic levelled me a steady stare, a sly smile gaining momentum. "Do you always end up straddling the guys that do?" Tristan choked. My smile froze. Crap. "And as for boxers or briefs." One hand went to his belt buckle. "I'd be happy to..." Double crap. I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder towards my house "I've gotta go. ↗

— A&E Kirk

#demons-at-deadnight #tristan #family

Daniel chuckled. Whoever that poor girl was, he hoped his family was paying her well. And then, finally, she lifted her fingers from the keys as Daisy began her painful violin solo. He watched her exhale, stretching her fingers, and then . . . She looked up. Time stopped. It simply stopped. It was the most maudlin and clichéd way of describing it, but those few seconds when her face was lifted toward his . . . they stretched and pulled, melting into eternity. She was beautiful. But that didn’t explain it. He’d seen beautiful women before. He’d slept with plenty of them, even. But this . . . Her . . . She . . . Even his thoughts were tongue-tied. ↗

— Julia Quinn

#anne #daniel #julia-quinn #beauty

You never know. Maybe when we’re dreaming…we’re more lucid than when we are awake. ↗

— Katherine Angela Yeboah

#dreams #lucid-dreams #nightmares #sleep #dreams

Ill show you a Sweet dream ↗

— Matsuri Hino

#dreams

Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! ↗

— William Shakespeare

#puck #dreams

I will give them nightmares to haunt their dreams long after I'm gone. ↗

— Laini Taylor

#haunting #nightmares #villains #death

So why do I write, torturing myself to put it down? Because in spite of myself I've learned some things. Without the possibility of action, all knowledge comes to one labeled "file and forget," and I can neither file nor forget. Nor will certain ideas forget me; they keep filing away at my lethargy, my complacency. Why should I be the one to dream this nightmare? ↗

— Ralph Ellison

#nightmare #torture #why #write #dreams

Los Angeles was the kind of place where everybody was from somewhere else and nobody really droppped anchor. It was a transient place. People drawn by the dream, people running from the nightmare. Twelve million people and all of them ready to make a break for it if necessary. Figuratively, literally, metaphorically -- any way you want to look at it -- everbody in L.A. keeps a bag packed. Just in case. ↗

— Michael Connelly

#dreams #escape #escapism #hopes #los-angeles