#ss

Pain is weakness leaving the body ↗

— Tera Lynn Childs

#pain #phoebe #weakness

Tris," Tobias says, crouching next to me. His face is pale, almost yellow. There is too much I want to say. The first thing that comes out is, "Beatrice." He laughs weakly. "Beatrice," he amends, and touches his lips to mine. I curl my fingers into his shirt. ↗

— Veronica Roth

#tris-prior #weakness

I've always had a weakness for lost causes once they're really lost. ↗

— Margaret Mitchell

#weakness

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As if some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--Only this and nothing more. ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#the-raven #weakness

His chains chinked softly. I seldom fling children from towers to improve their health. Yes, I meant for him to die. ↗

— George R.R. Martin

#improvement

Sometimes not getting what you want is God's greatest blessing. ↗

— Steve Maraboli

#god #prayer #experience

It was Eric's voice not Simon's, on the recorded message. “Ladies, ladies ” he said. Though it was the millionth time she’d heard the recording, Clary couldn't help rolling her eyes. “If you've reached this message that means our boy Simon is out partying. But please don’t fight among yourselves. There’s always enough Simon to go around.” There was a muffled yell, some laughter, and then the long sound of the beep. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#city-of-glass-outtake #eric #mortal-instruments #simon-lewis #laughter

I will bathe in your warmth ma petite. Roll you around me until my heart beats only for you. My breath will grow warm from your kiss. ↗

— Laurell K. Hamilton

#blood #hot #jean-claude #kiss #laurell-k-hamilton

There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes. ↗

— Emily Dickinson

#oppression

There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of toll; How frugal is the chariot That bears a human soul! ↗

— Emily Dickinson

#poetry #oppression