#w

If I were a poet, that’s what I’d write about. People who worked in the middle of the night. They knew how long the night was. They knew the sound life made as it left. It rattled, like a slamming screen door in the wind. Night workers lives without illusions, they wiped dreams off counters, they loaded freight. They headed back to the airport for one last fare. ↗

— Janet Fitch

#white-oleander #dreams

Intent and dreaming is nice but its not, will never be enough. If you want something bad enough in life then you must fight for it or go after it. Life doesn't just come to you. ↗

— R.M. Engelhardt

#life #quotes #r-m-engelhardt #work #writing

But there are many men-and women-who do things in a time of war that they wouldn't dream of doing in peacetime, and all for the common good. ↗

— Jacqueline Winspear

#war #dreams

I reside in ideas I craft with dreams ↗

— Leanne Dyck

#writing-craft #writing-life #dreams

I couldn't pick just one. The moment I'd touched the sugar packet, a thousand thoughts cascaded through my mind. I want to go shopping in Times Square. I want to go to the top of the Empire State Building. I want Dad to finish his meetings and come see the city with me. I want to travel to Paris. I want to fall in love so hard it makes me cry. I want... I shook my head. Sam didn't know what he was asking. How could this small pink square of processed sugar be transformed into my heart's desire? I want Mom to come home. ↗

— Lisa Mangum

#desires #hello #want #home

Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more. ↗

— Donald Miller

#humor #writing #forgiveness

Înţelege tot. Eu îl insult şi el mă urăşte. Sau invers" rîdea el. ↗

— Giovanni Arpino

#dreams #love #scent-of-a-woman #dreams

Hélène, her eyes once more raised and remote, was deep in a dream. She was Lady Rowena, she was in love, with the deep peaceful passion of a noble soul. This spring morning, the loveliness of the great city, the first wallflowers scenting her lap, had little by little melted her heart. ↗

— Émile Zola

#love #paris #wallflowers #dreams

Who will you be my Little Ones? Who will you be, my Little Ones? Will you dance for the fires of your youth and run at midnight to water's edge, diving into summer's heat? Will you ride a wild mare to any thought or dream or love of your making? Will you seek the artistry of your own infatuations and explore all the reckless and eccentric corners of your own impetuous world? ↗

— Carew Papritz

#the-legacy-letters #who-will-you-be-my-little-ones #dreams

Ah, man, when Wolverine grows his face back, he's really gonna be pretty upset. ↗

— Brian Michael Bendis

#spiderman #wolverine #humor