#sea

Music is a wind that blows away the years, memories, and fear, that crouching animal I carry inside me. ↗

— Isabel Allende

#island-beneath-the-sea #music #zarité #music

In a world where thrushes sing and willow trees are golden in the spring, boredom should have been included among the seven deadly sins. ↗

— Elizabeth Goudge

#gratefulness #gratitude #musings #nature #seasons

Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn--that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness--that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling. ↗

— Jane Austen

#fall #nature #pleasure #poets #seasons

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time. ↗

— Sylvia Plath

#fall #nature #seasons #summer #time

Oh dios mio, she makes me burn, she makes me need. She is etching herself into mi alma ↗

— P.T. Macias

#alpha-male #cartel #erotic #erotica-romance #fbi

There is within the human heart a tough fibrous root of fallen life whose nature is to possess, always to possess. It covets `things' with a deep and fierce passion. The pronouns `my' and `mine' look innocent enough in print, but their constant and universal use is significant. They express the real nature of the old Adamic man better than a thousand volumes of theology could do. They are verbal symptoms of our deep disease. The roots of our hearts have grown down into things, and we dare not pull up one rootlet lest we die. Things have become necessary to us, a development never originally intended. God's gifts now take the place of God, and the whole course of nature is upset by the monstrous substitution. ↗

— A.W. Tozer

#sin #spiritual-life #life

But then fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you. ↗

— Stephen King

#fall #seasons #summer #autumn

Take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints! ↗

— Chief Seattle

#conservation #nature #quote #nature

Invite Tranquility The sea,-- Something to look at When we are angry. ↗

— Reiko Chiba

#sea #tranquility #nature

We must remember that there is a great difference between a myth and a miracle. A myth is the idealization of a fact. A miracle is the counterfeit of a fact. There is the same difference between a myth and a miracle that there is between fiction and falsehood -- between poetry and perjury. Miracles belong to the far past and the far future. The little line of sand, called the present, between the seas, belongs to common sense to the natural. ↗

— Robert G. Ingersoll

#ingersoll #poetry #present #reason #robert