#walk

Seconds seem like a life time when the life you lived is slowly drained out of you by those who care not what you felt, hoped, or dreamed. When the darkness comes it is all consuming, there is no light and there is no pain. It is the never ending loss of hope that now consumes me as I die in his arms. ↗

— Cassandra Giovanni

#walking-in-the-shadows #ya-romance #ya-thriller #dreams

Sometimes there are stormy moments in your life when your friends do more than just walk with you; they become angels that carry you and protect you with their wings. ↗

— Steve Maraboli

#friends #life #protect #stormy #walk

...in my family I have comrades-hearty and loyal-when what I need are intimates, and I've never figured out how to get us all to make the switch. I've never found a way in. ↗

— Marisa de los Santos

#family

I’m here for the weather. I’m here for the forests (what’s left of them), for the world’s best bookstores and movie theaters; for the informality, anonymity, general lack of hidebound tradition, and the fact that here and nowhere else grunge rubs shoulders in the half-mean streets with a pervasive yet subtle mysticism. The shore of Puget Sound is where electric guitars cut their teeth, and old haiku go to die. In the deepest, darkest heart of winter, when the sky resembles bad banana baby food for months on end, and the witch measles that meteorologists call “drizzle” are a chronic gray rash on the skin of the land, folks all around me sink into a dismal funk. Many are depressed, a few actually suicidal. But I, I grow happier with each fresh storm, each thickening of the crinkly stratocumulus. “What’s so hot about the sun?” I ask. Sunbeams are a lot like tourists: intruding where they don’t belong, promoting noise and forced activity, faking a shallow cheerfulness, dumb little cameras slung around their necks. Raindrops, on the other hand, introverted, feral, buddhistically cool, behave as if they live here. Which, of course, they do. My bedroom is separated from the main body of my house, so that I have to go outside and cross some pseudo-Japanese stepping stones in order to go to sleep at night. Often I get rained on a little bit on my way to bed. It’s a benediction, a goodnight kiss. Romantic? Absolutely. And nothing to be ashamed of. If reality is a matter of perspective, then the romantic view of the world is as valid as any other—and a great deal more rewarding. It makes of life an unpredictable adventure rather than a problematic equation. Rain is the natural element for romanticism. A dripping fir is a thousand times more sexy than a sunburnt palm, and more primal and contemplative, too. A steady, wind-driven rain composes music for the psyche. It not only nurtures and renews, it consecrates and sanctifies. It whispers in secret languages about the primordial essence of things... Yes, I’m here for the weather. And when I’m lowered at last into a pit of marvelous mud, a pillow of fern and skunk cabbage beneath my skull, I want my epitaph to read, “IT RAINED ON HIS PARADE. AND HE WAS GLAD! ↗

— Tom Robbins

#food

[Walking] is the perfect way of moving if you want to see into the life of things. It is the one way of freedom. If you go to a place on anything but your own feet you are taken there too fast, and miss a thousand delicate joys that were waiting for you by the wayside. ↗

— Elizabeth von Arnim

#travel #walking #freedom

When you truly sing, you sing yourself free. When you truly dance, you dance yourself free. When you walk in the mountains or swim in the sea, again, you set yourself free. ↗

— Jay Woodman

#free #freedom #sing #swimming #walk

One kind of walking which I do not recall seeing mentioned anywhere in the literature of the subject is imaginary walking. ↗

— Edwin V. Mitchell

#walking #imagination

Helping others in need is not only a responsibility of life; it is what gives meaning to life. ↗

— Mollie Marti

#purpose #walking-with-justice #life

We kissed each other until we were too tired to keep going. I could still feel him holding back. It was my penance for what I had done to him. All I could do was hope the walls would fall and that I could have all of him again, but I was always leaving and he was tired of watching me walk away. We both knew that I couldn’t stay and that he couldn’t come with me, but still, we couldn’t let go. ↗

— Kimberly Novosel

#kiss #let-go #love #relationships #walk-away

I'm done waiting. Done doing things the easy way and letting things happen as they will." Her heart caught. "What does that mean?" "It means this is too important to let slip away again. You're too important." He leaned back against the truck with a low grunt of effort, eyes dark, jaw clenched. "I love you too, Tara. ↗

— Jill Shalvis

#romance #tara-daniels #love