#poetic

A garden must combine the poetic and he mysterious with a feeling of serenity and joy. ↗

— Luis Barragan

#combine #feeling #garden #joy #must

I feel an intense intimacy with those who have this loathing interest in me. Further than this, I know what they mean, I sympathize with them, I understand them. There should be a name (as poetic as love) for this relationship between loather and loathed; it is of the closest and more full of passion than incest. ↗

— Laura Riding

#closest #feel #full #further #i

Sometimes I know the meaning of a word but am tired of it and feel the need for an unfamiliar, especially precise or poetic term, perhaps one with a nuance that flatters my readership's exquisite sensitivity. ↗

— William Safire

#especially #exquisite #feel #flatters #i

For Poesy alone can tell her dreams, With the fine spell of words alone can save Imagination from the sable charm And dumb enchantment. Who alive can say, ‘Thou art no Poet may’st not tell thy dreams?’ Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved And been well nurtured in his mother tongue. Whether the dream now purpos’d to rehearse Be poet’s or fanatic’s will be known When this warm scribe my hand is in the grave. ↗

— John Keats

#art

Maybe we've lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we've found each other... I know I've spent each life before this one searching for you. Not someone like you but you, for your soul and mine must always come together. ↗

— Nicholas Sparks

#inspirational #poetic #romantic #beauty

There are so many things to say; so many things that can't really be said. So much has happened; so little has changed. We have so many words prepared; so many words are too hard to actually say. A few days have passed; this pain has been here for years. We don't know where to go from here; our future has always been in our minds. Moments of peace with those who constantly argue; fights with those that usually bring peace. There are so many things to say; so many things that can't really be said. ↗

— Alysha Speer

#poem #poetic #change

There’s this anomaly that happens sometimes with twins. It occurs in the womb when the fetuses are growing too closely to each other. The stronger twin develops normally, while the weaker twin crumples and is encased by the body of the stronger twin, where it becomes a parasite. The result is a single child, plagued by a twin-shaped fossil inside. Like a tumor. In death Rose became Linden’s parasitic twin. They were two separate organisms once, growing steadily beside each other. Two pulses. Two brains. But she has crumpled and died, and still he carries her inside himself. She goes where he goes, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, a shadow behind his ribs. ↗

— Lauren DeStefano

#poetic-fiction #death

He was outwardly calm but inwardly bleeding to death. ↗

— Matthew Pearl

#tragic #death

The displacement of water is equal to the something of something. ↗

— William Faulkner

#prose #the-sound-and-the-fury #william-faulkner #equality

So I stared out at that cold window, watching my breath collect on the glass, trying not to think about my life after the thaw. ↗

— Ally Carter

#life