#spring

Here was a fragment of Goddess myth that, through all its permutations, had somehow escaped being turned on its head. It was the perfect springboard for the sort of novel I wanted to write. ↗

— Joan D. Vinge

#escaped #fragment #goddess #had #head

More than in any other performing arts the lack of respect for acting seems to spring from the fact that every layman considers himself a valid critic. ↗

— Simone Weil

#any #arts #considers #critic #every

I will always desire to play with Bruce Springsteen. He's the most inspirational, most dedicated, most committed and most focused artist I've ever seen. I like to be around people like that. ↗

— Max Weinberg

#around #artist #bruce #bruce springsteen #committed

There were days so clear and skies so brilliant blue, with white clouds scudding across them like ships under full sail, and she felt she could lift right off the ground. One moment she was ambling down a path, and the next thing she knew, the wind would take hold of her, like a hand pushing against her back. Her feet would start running without her even willing it, even knowing it. And she would run faster and faster across the prairie, until her heart jumped like a rabbit and her breath came in deep gasps and her feet barely skimmed the ground. It felt good to spend herself this way. The air tasted fresh and delicious; it smelled like damp earth, grass, and flowers. And her body felt strong, supple, and hungry for more of everything life could serve up. She ran and felt like one of the animals, as though her feet were growing up out of the earth. And she knew what they knew, that sometimes you ran just because you could, because of the way the rush of air felt on your face and how your legs reached out, eating up longer and longer patches of ground. She ran until the blood pounded in her ears, so loud that she couldn't hear the voices that said, You're not good enough, You're not old enough, You're not beautiful or smart or loveable, and you will always be alone. She ran because there were ghosts chasing her, shadows that pursued her, heartaches she was leaving behind. She was running for her life, and those phantoms couldn't catch her, not here, not anywhere. She would outrun fear and sadness and worry and shame and all those losses that had lined up against her like a column of soldiers with their guns shouldered and ready to fire. If she had to, she would outrun death itself. She would keep on running until she dropped, exhausted. Then she would roll over onto her back and breathe in the endless sky above her, sun glinting off her face. To be an animal, to have a body like this that could taste, see hear, and fly through space, to lie down and smell the earth and feel the heat of the sun on your face was enough for her. She did not need anything else but this: just to be alive, cool air caressing her skin, dreaming of Ivy and what might be ahead. ↗

— Pamela Todd

#nature #phantoms #running #sky #spring

It always amazes me to look at the little, wrinkled brown seeds and think of the rainbows in 'em," said Captain Jim. "When I ponder on them seeds I don't find it nowise hard to believe that we've got souls that'll live in other worlds. You couldn't hardly believe there was life in them tiny things, some no bigger than grains of dust, let alone colour and scent, if you hadn't seen the miracle, could you? ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#life-after-death #resurrection #seeds #spring #death

The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#eye #gazes #heaven #just #little

All men's misfortunes spring from their hatred of being alone. ↗

— Jean de la Bruyere

#being #being alone #hatred #men #misfortunes

In the beginning of the human race there was no genetic load which would cause undesirable traits such as appear in offspring of marriages between relatives today. ↗

— Walter Lang

#beginning #between #cause #genetic #human

One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of March thaw, is the Spring. ↗

— Aldo Leopold

#geese #make #march #spring #summer

At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide. ↗

— Abraham Lincoln

#amongst #answer #approach #author #cannot