#sun

Do you see that out there? The strange, unfamiliar light? It's called the sun. Let's go get us a little. ↗

— Nora Roberts

#sun #sunlight #humor

One day,' you said, 'I watched the sunset forty-three times!' And a little later you added: 'You know, when one is that sad, one can get to love the sunset.' 'Were you that sad, then, on the day of the forty-three sunset?' But the prince made no answer. ↗

— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

#love

—Most distinguished voyager, what was your eon like? —Comic. Terror is forgotten. Only the ridiculous is remembered by posterity. Death from a wound, from a noose, from starvation Is one death, but folly is uncounted and new every year. ↗

— Czesław Miłosz

#death

The morning always has a way of creeping up on me and peeking in my bedroom windows. The sunrise is such a pervert. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#morning #pervert #strange #sunrise #change

No, I don't die. When I set in your sky, I rise in another. Just because you can't see me, it doesn't mean I'm not there. ↗

— Rachel Rivett

#death

If my love for cats were hydrogen, there’d be enough of it to give you skin cancer if you didn’t wear suntan lotion. The only sad part for me about getting a cat from the pound is that I can only choose one. If I could, I’d take home all of them. Actually, my view is why take them home? Why not just move in to an animal shelter? But my future wife wouldn’t go for that. Though I’m pretty sure she could move into a shoe store no problem. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#cats #hydrogen #pound #sun #suntan-lotion

Love is almost never simple. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#books #dejan-stojanovic #literature #literature-quotes #love

The same word we love and hate, leaves in different directions, taking different paths. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#directions #hate #literature #literature-quotes #love

It was not so much a modification of the darkness, as a sigh of relief, a slight relaxing of tension, so that one felt, rather than saw, that the night had suddenly lost a shade of its density... ah! yes; there! between these two shoulders of the hills she is bleeding to death. ↗

— Hope Mirrlees

#death

The other one he loved like a slave, like a madman and like a beggar. Why? Ask the dust on the road and the falling leaves, ask the mysterious God of life; for no one knows such things. She gave him nothing, no nothing did she give him and yet he thanked her. She said: Give me your peace and your reason! And he was only sorry she did not ask for his life. ↗

— Knut Hamsun

#pan #life