Everything Is In Your Hands Quotes

Well… Five… I just wanted to say rest in peace. To me you are a dead man… I am ashamed that I am related to you. I am ashamed that we have the same bloodline, it is obvious that yours contains a defect in the structure. I'm going to endure the punishment for this gun just because I made the mistake of hanging with a lame. But I swear to God on everything I ever loved… you better change your last fucking name as soon as possible. You will never in your life again be referred to as Powers! Change that shit, or I will kill you with my bare hands the first chance I get. Disconnect yourself bitch! ~ David Weaver

She looked at the strong hand holding hers. "Oh my goodness, what did you do?" Harper asked, eyebrows raised and mouth open as she studied the cuts and bruises.
"Had a conversation with a streetlight once you got into the cab," he said, pulling her closer to him.
"I'm sorry, Trent. I really am. If I blew you and me because of all this, I get it and I don't blame you. I'm done running. I'm done being scared. I'm done doubting whether you and your friends will help me if I need it. I am done with everything except being in love with you. I - "
Harper was flipped onto her back and underneath Trent in the blink of an eye.
"Say it again." His dark eyes were fierce as he held each side of her face in his big, safe hands.
"I'm sorry, I - "
"No." He cut her off. "Not that part. The 'I love you' part."
"I love you." Harper had barely gotten the words out of her mouth before Trent's lips descended on hers. Their mouths clashed together, banging teeth before soothing bitten lips with soft tongues.
Trent pulled away, taking a deep breath before staring deep into her eyes. Harper could feel his very soul merging with hers.
"I love you, Harper. Everything else is details. A lot of fucking details, granted, but just details. ~ Scarlett Cole

A pine cone cannot fall from a tree unless God is involved. A bumblebee cannot pollenate a flower or sting your arm apart from the will of God. Money cannot enter or exit your bank account apart from the sovereignty of God. Little Ernest cannot be born or be buried in that grave just a half-mile from my house apart from God's will. Legislation cannot be passed in this country or in any other apart from God's sovereignty. You hold this book in your hands because God sovereignly allows you to hold this book in your hands. Everything is under His sovereign rule. Some of us believe that God is a bit like the president. He has a lot of power and authority, but there are checks and balances to limit Him. He is limited by our human choices, the events of the future, the wrongs of the past, or by those who do not believe in Him. Some of His legislations could be vetoed. His popularity can ebb and flow. But God is not like that at all. There are no limits to His rule and power. ~ Justin Buzzard

Sit" is the command you'll use most often. Your pup objects when placed in a sit with your hands, so try the "bringing the food up under his chin" method. Better still, catch him in the act! Your dog will sit on his own many times throughout the day, so let him know that he's doing the "Sit" by rewarding him. Praise him and have him sit for everything - toys, connecting his leash, his dinner, before going out the door, etc. ~ Ann Chamberlain

The heart sags. My footprints forget me.
I don't think anything will ever be the same.
This is the edge of the cliff and you can't move,
can't jump. Everything is vertical. With binoculars
you can see where you'll be in an hour. Raindrops
collect on the lens. A fine mist. It hides us.
It drifts into clocks. Gravity presses your hands.
Some hurts never get said. Some get smuggled. ~ Richard Jackson

Helen, don't."
"I thought it was only a misunderstanding. I thought if I spoke to you directly, everything would be s-sorted out, and - " Another sob choked her. She was so consumed by emotion that she was only vaguely aware of Rhys hovering around her, reaching for her and snatching his hands back.
"No. Don't cry. For God's sake, Helen - "
"I didn't mean to push you away. I didn't know what to do. How can I make you want me again?"
She expected a jeering reply, or perhaps even a pitying one. The last thing she expected was his shaken murmur.
"I do want you, cariad. I want you too damned much."
She blinked at him through a bewildered blur, breathing in mortifying hiccups, like a child. In the next moment, he had hauled her firmly against him.
"Hush, now." His voice dropped to a deeper octave, a brush of dark velvet against her ears. "Hush, bychan, little one, my dove. Nothing is worth your tears."
"You are. ~ Lisa Kleypas

What is the matter with her?" Lillian asked Daisy, bewildered by her mother's docile manner. It was nice not to have to scrap and spar with Mercedes, but at the same time, now was when Lillian would have expected Mercedes to mow her over like a charging horse brigade.
Daisy shrugged and replied puckishly, "One can only assume that since you've done the opposite of everything she has advised, and you seem to have brought Lord Westcliff up to scratch, Mother has decided to leave the matter in your hands. I predict that she will turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to anything you do, so long as you manage to keep the earl's interest."
"Then… if I steal away to Lord Westcliff's room later this evening, she won't object?"
Daisy gave a low laugh. "She would probably help you to sneak up there, if you asked." She gave Lillian an arch glance. "Just what are you going to do with Lord Westcliff, alone in his room?"
Lillian felt herself flush. "Negotiate."
"Oh. Is that what you call it?"
Biting back a smile, Lillian narrowed her eyes. "Don't be saucy, or I won't tell you the lurid details later."
"I don't need to hear them from you," Daisy said airily. "I've been reading the novels that Lady Olivia recommended… and now I daresay I know more than you and Annabelle put together."
Lillian couldn't help laughing. "Dear, I'm not certain that those novels are entirely accurate in their depiction of men, or of… of that."
Daisy frowned. "In what ~ Lisa Kleypas

Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.
So you mustn't be frightened, if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

I want you now. Always. Everywhere and as my everything-my lover, my friend, my sharp-tongued beauty, my drinking companion, my children's mother, my courage in the face of certain defeat. My sactuary." He captured her lips. "My duchess." He kissed her. She returned his kiss with great enthusiasm. "But at this specific moment," he said between kisses, "I just really want you in my bed." With eager compliance, she accepted his kisses on her throat. "I can oblige you in that, your grace." "Or your bed. Whichever we come to first." "You are all that is wise and efficient." "Or the carriage." She grabbed his hand. "Let's be off then, shall we?" Laughter bubbling from her, she dragged him toward the carriage. He snatched her back to him and with his hands around her face said, "Arabella, I love you."

-Luc & Arabella ~ Katharine Ashe

Somehow, the strife made our marriage better. We got back to holding hands and making out on the couch, touching each other during the day, and cuddling in bed.
We'd been distracted by everything, and now we returned to what was important. We laughed; we had fun. I felt again like we were made for each other.
There is a point for everyone, I think, where physical attraction is everything, and it can lead to love. A person looks beautiful to you, and therefore you love them. Beyond that, as you grow with them, as your love deepens, your perception of beauty starts to deepen. At that point, what you love becomes beautiful-or rather, you are better equipped to recognize the inherent beauty.
We were there. Chris would gaze at me in the mirror from the bedroom as I was getting ready for bed, and his eyes would be filled with love. I would lie next to him on the bed and just feel loved, secure in the knowledge that the most amazing man in the world had me in his arms.
And yet, there was a little part of me, a nagging part, that told me I didn't deserve all this happiness. I remember calling a girlfriend around this time and raving about how our marriage seemed to have gone to a new level: Amazing.
Then I added, "But I feel like something bad is going to happen to one of us. Because it's just too perfect. ~ Taya Kyle

This is what you do. If you feel low, you stand tall. You mess up, you move on. You want to try something, try it, and if it was a stupid thing to try, you look it in the eye. There's no turning back. You apologize if you're sorry, but know that the nimblest, strongest hands can't rebuild a bridge out of embers, so cut new wood. Start from scratch. You love with your whole heart. If you're jealous, talk yourself from the ledge. If you can't talk yourself down from the ledge, have a good time up there, looking down on the world. If you have to lie to make everything true again, lie like you mean it. If you find yourself in a cage, reach out through the bars for the key, unlock the door, and run away. If running away gets dangerous, run home. If home doesn't mean what it used to mean, decide what home will be in the future. If your best friend says she doesn't trust you, hold her jaw in your hand until it hurts, and make her face you. Thats all it takes. If you think you love a guy, see how his hand looks in yours, thats all it takes. If you get exiled into a new land, then go discover it. And if you feel like you're drowning, go swimming. ~ Hobson Brown

In the Deep South, God is a cotton king,
Trussed up in plantation whites and powdered over smooth
with a little bit of talcum from Momma's compact.
He's the Georgia dust that gets on everything, in everything,
Caking the soles of bare feet
sifting through cracks in church pews,
and catching in your lover's eyelashes.

In the Deep South, the Devil is a beautiful boy
who swears and cheats at billiards on Sunday.
He is the one who reaches up your skirt,
pulls out the prayers your were saving for someday
and lights them on fire with his tongue.
He will sing hymns while feasting on your forfeit heart,
call you blessed while peeling away dignity like stockings,
then drag you out in front of the church to be stoned.

In the Deep South, the Holy Spirit is an old woman
with hands brown and gnarled as the nuts she boils
and a voice soft and dark as the Appalachian sky.
She is the swamp kingdom matriarch children are sent to
when sins need to be wished away like warts,
the presence of whom straightens the spines of wayward souls
and coaxes a "Yes Ma'am" from the devil's own.

In the Deep South, Jesus is a mixed-race child
with drops of destiny mingled into his blood
and the names of the saints tattooed along his spine.
He has his mother's bearing, one that wears suffering nobly,
and baleful eyes that speak of the sins of his forefathers.
S.T. Gibson

The guy next to you, is probably saying some kind a truth behind everything or just a peace of it. Nobody knows!
...
Now your hands bloody, new mysteries new secrets found and some people don't want you to know them. So they kill the person to which you get in contact.... (Blindspot Series!) ~ Deyth Banger

You're fixing everything I set down." He nods at my hands, which are readjusting the elephant. "It wasn't polite of me to come in and start touching your things."
"Oh,it's okay," I say quickly, letting go of the figurine. "You can touch anything of mine you want."
He freezes. A funny look runs across his face before I realize what I've said. I didn't mean it like that.
Not that that/i> would be so bad.
But I like Toph,and St. Clair has a girlfriend. And even if the situation were different, Mer still has dibs. I'd never do that to her after how nice she was my first day.And my second. And every other day this week.
Besides,he's just an attractive boy. Nothing to get worked up over. I mean, the streets of Europe are filled with beautiful guys, right? Guys with grooming regimens and proper haircuts and stylish coats.Not that I've seen anyone even remotely as good-looking as Monsieur Etienne St.Clair.But still.
He turns his face away from mine. Is it my imagination or does he look embarrassed? But why would he be embarrassed? I'm the one with the idiotic mouth.
"Is that your boyfriend?" He points to my laptop's wallpaper, a photo of my coworkers and me goofing around. It was taken before the midnight release of the lastest fantasy-novel-to-film adaptation. Most of us were dressed like elves or wizards. "The one with his eyes closed?"
"WHAT?" He thinks I'd date a guy like Hercules Hercules is an assistant manager. He's ten years older th ~ Stephanie Perkins

you can be pardoned and still perish
Pardon is considered to be a pardon unless it is been accepted as such. Many people will just die because of the fact that they are refusing the precious blood shed for them. The simple fact that you live the word of God in your terms, you are throwing down the offer given to you by the creator of everything. He doesn't want you to perish with the title deed in your hands. Just accept His pardon by embracing what The word has to give you in order to be in peace, that peace surpassing all understanding. Stop behaving contrary to the Word! Because each time you behave contrary to God's word, you are just rejecting His pardon and consequences will follow. ~ Jean Faustin Louembe

Although it might seem paradoxical, growing up in a family of liberal-minded atheists, committed but never militant, tends to have devastating consequences. Being raised without a rigid backdrop of religious, political, or spiritual beliefs makes it hard to have a real crises later in life. There is no way forward if your point of departure is the comfortable passivity of someone who has been a self-professed agnostic since the age of twelve, without ever having considered those important - one might say grave - matters, such as God, death, love, failure, or fear. For a precocious agnostic, the virtues offered by skepticism become terrifying hands that strangle and suffocate the already rare capacity of an individual to question things. Conversely, intelligent people who grow up thinking one thing and, on reaching a certain age, realize that everything they believe is open to doubt - stark, brutal doubt - can truly enjoy a profound crises that, in the worst cases, leads them to know themselves a little better. ~ Valeria Luiselli

He looks up.
Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes.
He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend.
He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend.
He is so much more.
Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect.
My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs.
"Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling.
I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad."
Phew.A steady voice.
He looks dazed. "Are you all right?"
I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!"
"Hey,Anna. How was your break?"
John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, b ~ Stephanie Perkins

When I think about little girls in the moment of turning into big girls (it is no slow timid development but something strangely sudden), I always have to imagine an ocean behind them, or a grave eternal plain, or something else you don't actually see with your eyes but can only sense, and that only in the deep and silent hours. Then I see the big girls as being exactly as big as I was used to the little childlike girls being small
and Heaven above knows why, that's just how I want to see them. There is a reason for everything. But the best things that happen, after all, are the ones which hide their deeper reason with both hands, whether out of modesty or because they don't want to be betrayed. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

You have no fucking idea, little bit of a thing, so old are you that you know everything? So worldly with the round eyes and the way you see the good in everything, even me. Forget everything you fucking think you know. The second I was inside you people would know, you'd be different, they'd treat you differently, tarred with my fucking ruined brush, all the rumors flying around, people who had once been your friends because they'd know I had hands all over you. I don't fuck like a gentleman, little bit, I fuck like an animal, that stains a little girl like you. You want pretty-fucking-romance, to show off a man to your friends, to go to parties with him on your arm, so fucking meek and boring, that's not me, will never be me. I'm not normal, the wiring is not right in my head, and I'm not for you, walk away before I've had my mouth on that pussy and drank down your honey, because if you don't and I taste you, I feel how it is to shove my cock as deep and as hard as I can inside you, it's all over, you get me? You hearing what I'm telling you? Game over, 'cause I don't play by anyone's rules but my own and my rules are nasty, my rules are fucking filthy. ~ V. Theia

She went downstairs to the library and wrote two letters. One was to her father, the other to Jess and Ronan. She folded them, stamped the wax seals with her seal ring, and put the writing materials away. She was holding the letters in one hand, the wax firm yet still warm against the skin, when she heard footsteps beating down the marble hall, coming closer.
Arin stepped inside the library and shut the door. "You won't do it," he said. "You won't duel him."
The sight of Arin shook her. She wouldn't be able to think straight if he continued to speak like that, to look at her like that. "You do not give me orders," Kestrel said. She moved to leave.
He blocked her path. "I know about the delivery. He sent you a death-price."
"First my dress, and now this? Arin, one would think you are monitoring everything I send and receive. It is none of your business."
He seized her by the shoulders. "You are so small."
Kestrel knew what he was doing, and hated it, hated him for reminding her of her physical weakness, of the same failure that her father witnessed whenever he watched her fight with Rax. "Let go."
"Make me let you go."
She looked at Arin. Whatever he saw in her eyes loosened his hands. "Kestrel," he said more quietly, "I have been whipped before. Lashes and death are different things."
"I won't die."
"Let Irex set my punishment."
"You're not listening to me." She would have said more, but realized that his hands still rest ~ Marie Rutkoski

According to Festus, our flying table, Buford, made it back safely while we were in Charleston, so those eagles didn't get him. Unfortunately, he lost the laundry bag with your pants."
"Dang it!" Frank Barked, which Leo figured was probably severe profanity for him.
No doubt Frank would've cursed some more -busting out the golly gees and the gosh darns- but Percy interrupted by doubling over and groaning.
"Did the world just turn upside down?" he asked.
Jason pressed his hands to his head. "Yeah, and it's spinning. Everything is yellow. Is it supposed to be yellow? ~ Rick Riordan

Her definition of romance was absentminded intimacy, the way someone else's hand stray to your plate of food.
I replied: no, that's just friendship; romance is always knowing exactly where that someone else's hands are. She smiled and said, there was a time I thought that way, too. But at the heart of the romance is the knowledge that those hands may wander off elsewhere, but somehow through luck or destiny or plain blind groping they'll find a way back to you, and maybe you'll be smart enough then to be grateful for everything that's still possible, in spit of your own weaknesses- and his. ~ Kamila Shamsie

This is how it should have been that first night down on the sand," he whispered. "This is our beginning Ivy. I want to make it official. I want there to be no doubt, 'cause I'm gonna do stupid shit all the time." I giggled, and his white teeth flashed. "I'm gonna leave the toilet seat up. I'm gonna be overprotective, probably bossy, and my temper is always gonna run hot." "I don't care," I told him, sliding my hands up to rest on his chest. "Tell me you'll be my girl, and I swear I'll love you with everything I got." "I'm always gonna be stubborn. I'm not gonna take your shit. My makeup will be all over the bathroom, and I still don't have a major. Oh, and I want to keep Prada. You have to like her, too." "I already told Rim to get your adoption paperwork ready for that rat." Then in lower tones, he said, "She's grown on me." I smiled. He totally loved Prada. "So what's my answer?" He tightened his arms around my waist. I pretended to think it over. A girl should never sound too eager-even if she was practically peeing herself with glee. "Blondie," Braeden growled. "I'm already yours, B. I have been for a long time. ~ Cambria Hebert

Everything has strings leading to everything else. We're all so tied together. We're all in a net, the net is waiting, and we're pushed into it by one single desire. You want a thing and it's precious to you. Do you know who is standing ready to tear it out of your hands? You can't know, it may be so involved and so far away, but someone is ready, and you're afraid of them all. And you cringe and you crawl and you beg and you accept them
just so they'll let you keep it. And look at whom you come to accept. ~ Ayn Rand

It's painful and terrible that youth is over, and with it that whole game of looking and longing and vying for attention, hoping for something, for some absolute transformation of everything. But it's also a reprieve to be let off that hook and know that you're simply in your own hands at last ~ Tessa Hadley

Lord, I know Your timing is not the same as mine. I want all the answers to my prayers right now. But You want me to be patient and wait on You. I lay my concerns before You and leave the outcome in Your hands. Help me to rest in the knowledge that Your timing is perfect, just as everything You do is perfect. ~ Stormie O'martian

I believe that it's very important to get to know people with whom you can have a substantive dialogue about design and its development. In addition, read everything about fashion that you can get your hands on. A palpable point of view is what makes a designer, so you need to be confident about yours. ~ Tim Gunn

A very important part of the Irish way of life is death. See, if anybody else anywhere else in the world dies that's the end of it, they're dead, but in Ireland when somebody dies we lay them out and watch them for a couple of days. It's called a Wake. And it's great, it's a party, a send off. The fella is laid out on the table and there's drinking and dancing and all the food you can eat and all of your friends come from all over the place and they all stand around the wake table looking at you with a glass in their hands looking at you and they say "Here's to your health". The terrible thing about dying over there [Ireland] is you miss your own wake. It's the best day of your life. You've paid for everything and you can't join in. Mind you, if you did you'd be drinking on your own.

Dave Allen ~ Dave Allen

The recognition of the law of the cause and effect, also known as karma, is a fundamental key to understand how you've created your world, with actions of your body, speech and mind. When you truly understand karma, then you realize you are responsible for everything in your life. It is incredibly empowering to know that your future is in your hands. ~ Keanu Reeves

Lord, I don't want to entertain sin in my heart. I want my heart to be right before You so that You will always hear my prayers. I know I don't do everything perfectly, so I ask that by the power of Your Holy Spirit You will enable me to keep my heart pure and my hands clean. Thank You for loving me and helping me do what is right in Your sight. ~ Stormie O'martian

You see, everything going on in your life is stemming within you. The control of your life should always be in your hands. What other people think about you should not stop you from moving forward in life. ~ Hina Hashmi

I understand that if you focus on what is wrong in your life, that is all you will see." Marian put her hands on Alditha's shoulders. "But if you open your eyes, you will see all the good gifts God has given you. If you continue to see only the bad, you will become bitter and angry. If you decide to see what is good, you will go back to being the smiling girl I grew up with and loved." Alditha swallowed hard. The words of the priest came to her. "This life, though hard, is a gift. Sometimes even I do not understand all of His ways, but I will tell you this; he loves you, and everything he does or does not do is for your good. You simply have to have faith to see it that way. ~ Sarah Holman

On more than one occasion I have been ready to abandon my whole life for love. To alter everything that makes sense to me and to move into a different world where the only known will be the beloved. Such a sacrifice must be the result of love... or is it that the life itself was already worn out? I had finished with that life, perhaps, and could not admit it, being stubborn or afraid, or perhaps did not known it, habit being a great binder. I think it is often so that those most in need of change choose to fall in love and then throw up their hands and blame it all on fate. But it is not fate, at least, not if fate is something outside of us; it is a choice made in secret after nights of longing.
... I may be cynical when I say that very rarely is the beloved more than a shaping spirit for the lover's dreams... To be a muse may be enough. The pain is when the dreams change, as they do, as they must. Suddenly the enchanted city fades and you are left alone again in the windy desert. As for your beloved, she didn't understand you.
The truth is, you never understood yourself. ~ Jeanette Winterson

I walk away, feeling Brody's gaze on me. There's no doubt that as soon as we get back in the car, I'm going to get it - good.

Instead, Brody stays quiet while I assemble the paperwork. He may not be speaking, but he's saying a whole lot in the silence.

"Just say it," I mumble and finally look over.

"I'm not saying a word." He raises his hands. "Clearly, you two know each other, and it ain't from growing up here. You tell me everything, so there is no way you wouldn't have told me you know him," Brody pauses and leans back. "I'm not saying a word about who you may or may not have slept with recently. Even though, it's pretty obvious."

"You know, you not saying a word took you a long time."

"It's not like you've had a five-year drought since your divorce. Or that you slept with a singer/actor. Nope. I have nothing to say about that. Not a thing."

I groan. "Could you not say anything for real this time?"

"Sure thing, boss. I'll just be over here, watching Hell start to thaw."

This is not going to get any better. I'd almost rather hear the questions. This is Brody Webber. My partner, my friend, and the one person who I have enough dirt on to make his life hell if he repeats this.

"Okay, fine. Yes, I slept with Eli Walsh. I was crazy and dumb. I also had about six beers, which is two over my threshold, and I was trying to be in the moment for once. Fucking Nicole and her pep talks."< ~ Corinne Michaels

Here's what I've got, the reasons why our marriage
might work: Because you wear pink but write poems
about bullets and gravestones. Because you yell
at your keys when you lose them, and laugh,
loudly, at your own jokes. Because you can hold a pistol,
gut a pig. Because you memorize songs, even commercials
from thirty years back and sing them when vacuuming.
You have soft hands. Because when we moved, the contents
of what you packed were written inside the boxes.
Because you think swans are overrated.
Because you drove me to the train station. You drove me
to Minneapolis. You drove me to Providence.
Because you underline everything you read, and circle
the things you think are important, and put stars next
to the things you think I should think are important,
and write notes in the margins about all the people
you're mad at and my name almost never appears there.
Because you make that pork recipe you found
in the Frida Khalo Cookbook. Because when you read
that essay about Rilke, you underlined the whole thing
except the part where Rilke says love means to deny the self
and to be consumed in flames. Because when the lights
are off, the curtains drawn, and an additional sheet is nailed
over the windows, you still believe someone outside
can see you. And one day five summers ago,
when you couldn't put gas in your car, when your fridge
was so empty - n ~ Matthew Olzmann

Who's teasing? I'm telling him the truth. He ain't going to have it. Neither one of 'em going to have it. And I'll tell you something else you not going to have. You not going to have no private coach with four red velvet chairs that swivel around in one place whenever you want 'em to. No. and you not going to have your own special toilet and your own special-made eight-foot bed either. And a valet and a cook and a secretary to travel with you and do everything you say. Everything: get the right temperature in your hot-water bottle and make sure the smoking tobacco in the silver humidor is fresh each and every day. There's something else you not going to have. You ever have five thousand dollars of cold cash money in your pocket and walk into a bank and tell the bank man you want such and such a house on such and such a street and he sell it to you right then? Well, you won't ever have it. And you not going to have a governor's mansion, or eight thousand acres of timber to sell. And you not going to have no ship under your command to sail on, no train to run, and you can join the 332nd if you want to and shoot down a thousand German planes all by yourself and land in Hitler's backyard and whip him with your own hands, but you never going to have four stars on your shirt front, or even three. And you not going to have no breakfast tray brought in to you early in the morning with a red rose on it and two warm croissants and a cup of hot chocolate. Nope. Never. And no pheasant b ~ Toni Morrison

It is utterly unfair," she said, shooing Wrigley away and
tossing aside her blanket, "that your country boy smile isn't
illegal." She pulled her feet from beneath him, but then she swung a leg over him and straddled his lap, still smiling at him while she took his cheeks in her hands and pressed a soft, open-lipped kiss to his mouth.
Will's pulse kicked up the tempo. He gripped her hips and
pushed against her, parted his lips to make way for her tongue.
Music exploded inside him. Electric guitars, keyboard, fiddle,
bongos. No words, just the white-hot melody of their bodies.
The intoxicating scent of her shampoo tickled his nose, but the intrigued woman scent was stronger - heady and spicy and everything.
He wanted her. ~ Jamie Farrell

Why are you here?" My voice sounded breathless.
As if it should've been obvious, Cole said, "I came here to offer you eternal life.Again."
I pushed him away from him. "I already made my choice."
"Yes,but it's obviously the wrong choice. Return with me. To the Everneath. And we'll live in the High Court. And you won't be a battery in the Tunnels. You could be a queen."
"The Everneath has a High Court?"
"Of course.It's where Osiris and Isis ruled.Hades and Persephone.Every realm in every dimension has people who give orders and people who take orders. And I'm tired of taking orders,Nick."
I grimaced. "That has nothing to do with me."
He paused and let out a little sigh. "Then I'm saying it wrong,beause it has everything to do with you. I want what Hades and Persephone had, and I can't do it without you.The only time the queen of the Everneath has been overthrown is when an Everliving has found his perfect match. I've spent my whole life-and it's a long one,trust me-looking for my perfect match,and it's you. I knew you were different from the first moment I met you.The first moment you placed your hands on mine.You remember?"
I nodded. It had been the night we first met.
"Your cheeks turned red,and I was gone for you." He shook his head,and his lips quirked up in a smile. "I know you felt it too.The connection between us. It started even before the Feed."
I looked away,because my cheeks were getting warm thinking about it, and I ~ Brodi Ashton

Take it easy, friend," siad Peter, regaining his balance, quickly understanding the condition Henry was in.
"Friend? You left us. In the caves." Henry's muscles tensed.
Peter stepped back cautiously. Henry didn't look like himself.
"Seems someone can't hold his drink," Peter said. He didn't go further, sensing then that Valerie might be thinking of her father.
"And now," Henry continued on his own track, stepping closer to meet him, the smell of alcohol on his breath, "my father, too is dead."
Valerie moved to Henry. "Please, don't do this," she said, stepping in. "It's not worth it."
Henry pushed past her, not realizing his own weight. The force knocked her back. Peter grabbed Henry's arm and twisted it. Overreacting, Henry reared back his fist and landed a punch in the hollow of Peter's eye. The crowd laughed as Peter fell hard to the ground.
Henry scrambled on top him, held him by the collar, forced Peter to face him as he'd never done. He looked into the eyes of the man he wanted to blame for his parents' deaths, because it was a shelter from the terrible thought that everything could be lost to a simple slip of fate. "You filth," he spat out.
This really got the villagers going. But Peter didn't laugh. He pulled a knife from his boot and leapt up, thrusting it viciously in Henry's face.
"Keep your hands off her or I'll cut them off! ~ Sarah Blakley-Cartwright

Letter 4

As I lay dreaming, Montezuma introduced himself and put his hand on my shoulder. The palm of the Aztec king felt like ancient papyrus.
When I looked up at him, I saw that his nose was chipped like that of a sphinx. His arms were like long ivory ropes that frayed into hands.
He led me down to the river, where we sat together and shared the river's silence. Then he spoke:
„Allow me to tell you my story. It may help you understand your own.
At dusk, in the year of one thousand rivers, the Spanish explorer Cortés arrived at the gates of my city. I welcomed him with open arms.
I showed Cortés hundreds of aviaries that had built in the city, and finally I took him to the most aviary of sighs. These birds carried only love letters.
Cortes laughed and said that all the bird songs made him feel like a virgin bride who is drunk with faith as she walks down the aisle of the church. On her wedding night, she undresses for her husband and he takes her in his arms. She believes everything is possible.
When Cortés stared straight into my eyes and said 'It is a night that is always colored in blood'." He paused for a long time before he spoke. Then he said, „Cortés returned with a small army of soldiers on horseback. When they ransacked the city, I was Cortes's own hand that lit the torch that set fire to the aviary of sighs.
The fires raged. The birds painted the blue sky black with the ashes of their wings. The gardens were redde ~ Gregory Colbert

In this high place it is as simple as this, Leave everything you know behind. Step toward the cold surface, say the old prayer of rough love and open both arms. Those who come with empty hands will stare into the lake astonished, there, in the cold light reflecting pure snow, the true shape of your own face. David Whyte, "Tilicho Lake" Conservatives ~ Richard Rohr

My confidence wavered like a thin tree in a storm and then completely collapsed. I sucked in a breath and it got stuck in my throat. "You don't want me." Cam was in front of me within a second, so fast I hadn't even seen him move. His hands were planted on either side of my head and he leaned down, his face inches from mine. Tension rolled off his body in waves. Air fled my lungs as my body went rigid. "Fuck, Avery. You think I don't want you?" His voice came out low, almost a growl. "There's not a single part of you that I don't want, you understand? I want to be on you and inside of you. I want you against the wall, on the couch, in your bed, in my bed, and every fucking place I can possibly think of, and trust me, I have a vast imagination when it comes to these kinds of things. Don't ever doubt that I want you. That is not what this is about." My eyes widened as confusion swirled through me, muddling my thoughts further, which at this point, seemed impossible. He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine. The contact sent my pulse pounding. "But not like this - never like this. You're drunk, Avery, and when we get together - because we will get together, you're going to be fully aware of everything that I do to you." It took a few moments, but what he said finally sunk in through the liquor haze and confusion and made sense. Closing my eyes, I turned my head to the side, feeling the way his skin slid alongside mine. "You're a good guy, Cam. ~ J. Lynn

If I should have a daughter…"Instead of "Mom", she's gonna call me "Point B." Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I'm going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand."

She's gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried.

And "Baby," I'll tell her "don't keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him."

But I know that she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, 'cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix ~ Sarah Kay

The sky has stopped
offering you reasons to live and your heart is the rock
you threw through each window
of what's deserted you, so you turn
to the burnt out building inside you: the scaffolding
overhead, the fallen beams,
the unsound framework;


according to the blue that's printed on the inside of your arms
you have no plans, no plans
uncovered, or uncovering: the offing is emptying,


the horizon empty


now that your sanity is
a tarp or a bedsheet
in the rough hands of the wind,


now that everything is hooded
in drop cloth.


It didn't happen
overnight. Or maybe it did:


your heart, the rock;
your soul, the Gothic barn. ~ Olena Kalytiak Davis

Try your hand at everything. Figure out what your space in the world is and take it. Then you can let other people in who will celebrate that about you, not try to turn you into something else. ~ Lights

Digital information, for every type of storage, is unfounded. If everything is on a hard drive and the hard drive freezes up, your whole photography collection could just go away. We can still look at printed photographs of our grandparents. We can physically hold them in our hands and look at it. ~ Gus Van Sant

o. It is not wonderful. It is an ugly world. Not like this one. Anarres is all dusty and dry hills. All meager, all dry. And the people aren't beautiful. They have big hands and feet, like me and the waiter there. But not big bellies. They get very dirty, and take baths together, nobody here does that. The towns are very small and dull, they are dreary. No palaces. Life is dull, and hard work. You can't always have what you want, or even what you need, because there isn't enough. You Urrasti have enough. Enough air, enough rain, grass, oceans, food, music, buildings, factories, machines, books, clothes, history. You are rich, you own. We are poor, we lack. You have, we do not have. Everything is beautiful here. Only not the faces. On Anarres nothing is beautiful, nothing but the faces. The other faces, the men and women. We have nothing but that, nothing but each other. Here you see the jewels, there you see the eyes. And in the eyes you see the splendor, the splendor of the human spirit. Because our men and women are free - possessing nothing, they are free. And you the possessors are possessed. You are all in jail. Each alone, solitary, with a heap of what he owns. You live in prison, die in prison. It is all I can see in your eyes - the wall, the wall! ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Destiny does not mean that your life has been strictly predetermined. Therefore, to leave everything to fate and to not actively contribute to the music of the universe is a sign of sheer ignorance. The music of the universe is all-pervading and it is composed on ... different levels. Your destiny is the level where you will play your tune. You might not change your instrument but how well you play is entirely in your hands. ~ Elif Shafak

When you're young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You're your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too - leave them behind. You don't yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.
Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been. ~ Margaret Atwood

Tell me something," he said in a low voice.
"Anything," I answered.
"What's it like to have every breath count?"
I sat up and braced myself on my hand. "I'm not following what you mean," I answered.
Jess pulled himself up and propped his hands behind him. He looked out at the water as if he were seeing something from his past. "To live life as if it's your last breath. To know that any minute could be the final one and that you have to make the most of what's given to you. To know not everything is forever."
I could see the defined muscles in his arm, but what caught my attention the most was the bottom half of the symbol just under the sleeve of his shirt. Like before, I reached my finger and traced the snake resting on the stem. Sliding his sleeve higher, I followed upward toward the pedals of the black rose.
"It bothers you, doesn't it? The fact that you're constantly reminded of..." I couldn't finish what I wanted to say. I didn't want to hurt him.
He looked over his shoulder, and I stopped what I was doing to look up at him. "Yeah, it bothers me. But you know what bothers me even more? You're not like me. You can take a final breath. ~ Laura Burks

What is it like to be made vice-president?
On one level, it's a nearly hallucinatory degree of success. I was barely forty years old, and a shaky, sixty-three-year-old heartbeat from the leadership of the entire Western world.
It was also like throwing up in convention-hall bathrooms before giving speeches, and after. It was sitting through dinners with men and women with whom I had nothing in common. Spending an enormous amount of time on trains. Promising thins and agreeing to things as advised by people I had barely met, on very little sleep. Huge sums of money were changing hands and everything happening on the grandest scale imaginable while still in most moments remaining pointless and usually outright seedy. I pretended to learn to fly-fish; I watched sporting events. In Maine I was assaulted by a lobster; it seized my lapel in a threatening manner. I tasted local foods and admired factories,farms, department stores, hotels, and (unless I'm misremembering) several empty plots of land....
It was like being given what was almost the nation's highest honor by a man you held in infinite esteem and regarded with perhaps a certain amount of terrified suspicion, a man who disliked you and clearly wanted nothing to do with you, who would scowl and change the subject at the mention of your name. And then being given a very important and very nasty job by that person, and despised for it, almost as much as you despised yourself. ~ Austin Grossman

Basically, you're still sitting there using just the muscles of your hand, really. Of one hand, actually. It's another example of the transfer of literacy to making music because the assumption is that everything important is happening in your head; the muscles are there simply to serve the head. But that isn't how traditional players work at all; musicians know that their muscles have a lot of stuff going on as well. They're using their whole body to make music, in fact. ~ Brian Eno

More raiders came down the stairs prodding the Reverend Dr. Lionel J. D. Jones, the Black Fuehrer, and Father Keeley before them.
Dr. Jones stopped halfway down the stairs, confronted his tormentors. 'All I've done, 'he said majestically, 'is do what you people should be doing.'
'What should we be doing?' said a G-man. He was obviously in command of the raid.
'Protecting the Republic,' said Jones. 'Why bother us? Everything we do is to make the country stronger! Join with us, and let's go after the people who are trying to make it weaker!'
'Who's that?' said the G-man.
'I have to tell you?' said Jones. 'Haven't you even found that in the course of your work? The Jews! The Catholics! The Negroes! The Orientals! The Unitarians! The foreign-born, who don't have any understanding of democracy, who play right into the hands of the socialists, the communists, the anarchists, the anti-Christs and the Jews!'
'For your information,' said the G-man in cool triumph, 'I am a Jew.'
'That proves what I've just been saying!' said Jones.
'How's that?', said the G-man.
'The Jews have infiltrated everything!' said Jones, smiling the smile of a logician who could never be topped.
'You talk about the Catholics and the Negroes-' said the G-man, 'and yet your two best friends are a Catholic and a Negro.'
'What's so mysterious about that?' said Jones.
'Don't you hate them?', said the G-man.
'Certainly not,' said Jones. 'We all believe ~ Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

You didn't answer my question. I asked you about being in love. You said what it was like when your wife went away."
Martin sat down again. How young she is. When we were that young we invented the world, no one could tell us a thing. Julia stood with her hands clenched, as though she wanted to pound an answer out of him. "Being in love is ... anxious," he said. "Wanting to please, worrying that she will see me as I really am. But wanting to be known. That is ... you're naked, moaning in the dark, no dignity at all ... I wanted her to see me and to love me even though she knew everything I am, and I knew her. Now she's gone, and my knowledge is incomplete. So all day I imagine what she is doing, what she says and who she talks to, how she looks. I try to supply the missing hours, and it gets harder as they pile up, all the time she's been gone. I have to imagine. I don't know, really. I don't know any more. ~ Audrey Niffenegger

As much as you can, keep dunya (worldly life) in your hand
not in your heart. That means when someone insults you, keep it out of your heart so it doesn't make you bitter or defensive. When someone praises you, also keep it out of your heart, so it doesn't make you arrogant and self-deluded. When you face hardship and stress, don't absorb it in your heart, so you don't become hopeless and overwhelmed. Instead keep it in your hands and realize that everything passes. When you're given a gift by God, don't hold it in your heart. Hold it in your hand so that you don't begin to love the gift more than the giver. And so that when it is taken away you can truly respond with 'inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajioon': 'indeed we belong to God, and to God we return'. ~ Yasmin Mogahed

The wise man … does not need to walk about timidly or cautiously: for he possesses such self-confidence that he does not hesitate to go to meet fortune nor will he ever yield his position to her: nor has he any reason to fear her, because he considers not only slaves, property, and positions of honor, but also his body, his eyes, his hands, - everything which can make life dearer, even his very self, as among uncertain things, and lives as if he had borrowed them for his own use and was prepared to return them without sadness whenever claimed. Nor does he appear worthless in his own eyes because he knows that he is not his own, but he will do everything as diligently and carefully as a conscientious and pious man is accustomed to guard that which is entrusted in his care. Yet whenever he is ordered to return them, he will not complain to fortune, but will say: "I thank you for this which I have had in my possession. I have indeed cared for your property, - even to my great disadvantage, - but, since you command it, I give it back to you and restore it thankfully and willingly…" If nature should demand of us that which she has previously entrusted to us, we will also say to her: "Take back a better mind than you gave: I seek no way of escape nor flee: I have voluntarily improved for you what you gave me without my knowledge; take it away." What hardship is there in returning to the place whence one has come? That man lives badly who does not know how to die well. ~ Moses Hadas

Let go."
"Make me let you go."
She looked at Arin. Whatever he saw in her eyes loosened his hands. "Kestrel," he said more quietly, "I have been whipped before. Lashes and death are different things."
"I won't die."
"Let Irex set my punishment."
"You're not listening to me." She would have said more, but realized that his hands still rested on her shoulders. A thumb was pressing gently against her collarbone.
Kestrel caught her breath. Arin startled, as if out of sleep, and pulled away.
He had no right, Kestrel thought. He had no right to confuse her. Not now, when she needed a clear mind.
Everything had seemed so simple last night in the close dark of the carriage.
"You are not allowed," Kestrel said, "to touch me."
Arin's smile was bitter. "I suppose that means we are no longer friends."
She said nothing.
"Good," he said, "then you can have no reason for fighting Irex."
"You don't understand."
"I don't understand your godforsaken Valorian honor? I don't understand that your father would probably rather see you gutted than live with a daughter who turned away from a duel?"
"You have very little faith in me, to think that Irex would win."
He raked a hand through his short hair. "Where is my honor in all this, Kestrel?"
They locked eyes, and she recognized his expression. It was the same one she had seen across the Bite and Sting table. The same one she had seen in the pit, when the auctioneer ~ Marie Rutkoski

JANUARY 24 He Will Reward You So repent (change your mind and purpose); turn around and return [to God], that your sins may be erased (blotted out, wiped clean), that times of refreshing (of recovering from the effects of heat, of reviving with fresh air) may come from the presence of the Lord. ACTS 3:19 Success principles alone will not work in your life if you don't spend time with God, allowing His Holy Spirit to be your Counselor and to give you revelation and understanding of what to do each day. But if you flow in God's plan, you will learn to stop trying to figure out how everything will work together for your good. Learn to seek God's face and not His hand all the time. Then keep your hands open and be ready to receive from Him. God is good; you can trust what He speaks to your heart to do. ~ Joyce Meyer

Alone, with tremendous empty longing and dread. The whole room for my thoughts. Nothing but myself and what I think, what I fear. Could think the most fanastic thoughts, could dance, grimace, curse, wail-nobody would ever know, nobody would ever hear. The thought of such absolute privacy is enough to drive me mad. It's like a clean birth. Everything cut away. Separate, naked, alone. Bliss and agony simultaneously. Time on your hands. Each second weighing on you like a mountain. You drown in it. Deserts, seas, lakes, oceans. Time beating away like a meat ax. Nothingness. The world. The me and the not-me. Oomaharumooma. Everything has to have a name. Everything has to be learned, tested, experencied. ~ Henry Miller

Grace surrounds us and holds us like the sky holds everything in it ... and as soon as I find a way to let go of my story, I keep seeing over and over again that grace is always here and it includes the forgetting and the remembering. The practice is the opening of the hand to catch the raindrops, which are always falling. If you don't open your hand, you get wet, but you don't get much to drink. ~ Krishna Das

I write to tell you that I love you
That my heart travels every day
That I was cold with grief
Afraid of being alone
And to disappear tomorrow.
I write to tell you that I love you
That everything will end in your arms
That one day my heart was lost
In his pain
That I thought he had stopped
That it took you to resume it
I write to tell you that I love you
That you are all I have of horizon
That you will see
Our children sing in the tall grass
And soon the spring will rise by the windows
I write to tell you that I love you
That for this appointment of beginning or end
It is with you that I want to breathe,
Don't you see,
I live in the orphaned space
That your hands create. ~ Emmanuelle Soni-Dessaigne

She turns in the doorway. "Oh, and Galen?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Have your mother call me so I can get her number programmed into my phone."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You kids have a good time. I won't be home until late, Emma. But you'll be home by nine, sweetie. Won't she, Galen?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Neither Emma nor Galen say anything until they hear the car pull out of the driveway. Even then, they wait a few more seconds. Emma leans against the fridge. Galen is growing fond of hiding his hands in his pockets.
"So, what did you two chitchat about?" she asks as if uninterested.
"You first."
She shakes her head. "Uh-uh. I don't want to talk about it."
He nods. "Good. Me neither."
For a few seconds, they look at everything in the room but each other. Finally, Galen says, "So, did you want to go change-"
"That idea is fan-flipping-tastic. Be right down." She almost breaks into a run to get to the stairs. ~ Anna Banks

You know what's heartbreaking?" He slipped his hands into his pockets, as if to keep them from touching me. "It's not when bad things happen to you, or when your life turns out completely different from what you thought it would be, or when people let you down, or when the world knocks you down. What's heartbreaking is when you don't get back up, when you don't care enough to pick up the million broken pieces of you that are screaming to be put back together, and you just lie there, listening to a shattered chorus of yourself.
"What's heartbreaking is letting the love of your life walk away, because you can't give up your work or your home to go with her, because everything you love gets taken away from you. So I'm saying no to heartbreak. Right here, right now. This is me getting back up, crossing an ocean and coming straight to your door, Rodel.
"I can't unlove you. And I can't stop thinking about you. So I'm here to say the words because I never said them and that is what's breaking my heart. I'm not saying them to hear it back. I'm not saying them so we can have a happily ever after. I don't know where you're at, or if you still think about us, or if we can even make it work. I'm saying them for me. Because they've been growing in my chest with every breath I take, and I have to get them out or I'll explode. I love you, Rodel Emerson. That's what I'm here to say. This is me, unbreaking my heart. I know it's selfish and thoughtless and just plain arrogant to show ~ Leylah Attar

When do things change entirely you wonder? When do they get better? When will it be possible? It is possible now. You are built to open your fists and show me your palms and to pass food from them into the hands of others. You are built for comfort and for fire, for battle and for poetry and you are a child of my family and my family was made by the world. Here we stand in the dark now and I am old and you are holding my hand and walking me from the bed to the window. We are looking out at all of it, the wonder and the danger. There are voices and the sun blazes and everything is bright enough that if I were reading the letters on your skin, I wouldn't be able to parse them. Now look at your own hand and the wrinkles in them. Those wrinkles are what happens when you clinch your fists. You were born for this resistance, for this preparation, for this life. You were born to fight. ~ Victor LaValle

Everything is a matter of interpretation. And that is how you will rule," he said, before handing the sword's hilt to me. "Think on what you've seen today. But do not let me influence you. Your will is yours alone."
I stared at the sword in my hand, still gleaming despite the dark. "I can promise you I won't forget."
Amar paused, his voice soft. "Memory is a riddled thing. I would caution you from making promises you cannot keep."
I moved toward the door, but Amar stopped me with a shake of his head. "Gupta will arrive in a moment to escort you." He straightened the cuffs of his sherwani jacket. "I myself have a number of duties to attend to, so I must leave."
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Why?"
He paused and took a step to me. Darkness, soft-edged and heavy, clung to the room. In the shadows, his smile held all the lazy grace of a cat.
"Would you miss me?"
"Curiosity inspired my question. Nothing more," I said, but even my voice was unconvinced.
"Even so, there's no greater temptation than to stay by your side."
The door swung open and a chorus of voices trickled into the room--silvery and indistinct, like whispers released through clenched teeth. Amar lingered for a moment, his lips tight as though he wanted to say something.
Then, he cupped his palms together and blew into them. When he opened his hands, a bloom of light shaped like an unopened flower bud lifted off his palm and floated into the room. Brightne ~ Roshani Chokshi

In Kamby Bolongo Mean River damage and delusion walk hand in hand, and everything we think we know is gradually called into question. Reading like a cross between Samuel Beckett's 'The Calmative' and Gordon Lish's Dear Mr. Capote, Robert Lopez's new novel gets under your skin and latches on. ~ Brian Evenson

I take a breath. Words seem suddenly trite and useless, so I step forward and grab Elias's hands, remembering Pop. Touch heals, Laia. I hold fast to him, trying to put everything I feel into that touch. I hope your Tribe is all right. I hope they survive the Martials. I'm truly, truly sorry. It's not enough. But it's all I have. After a moment, Elias lets out a breath and leans his forehead against mine. "Tell me what you told me that night in my room at Blackcliff," he murmurs. "What your Nan used to say to you." "As long as there is life" - I can hear Nan's warm voice as I say it - "there is hope." Elias lifts his head and looks down at me, the coolness in his eyes replaced by that raw, unquenchable fire. I forget to breathe. "Don't you forget it," he says. "Ever." I nod. The minutes pass, and neither of us pull away, instead finding solace in the coolness of the night and the quiet company of the stars. ~ Sabaa Tahir

If we only take a hard look at the facts of life, we will know that, really, nothing is in our hands – not even our hands are in our hands. Just try to hold your hand with your hand and you will know the reality. Really, nothing is in our power. Then what is the meaning of saying "I" and "me" and "mine"? Here everything is happening,,and happening together. It is an organic arrangement, an organic whole. ~ Osho

We never really see time. We see only clocks. If you say this object moves, what you really mean is that this object is here when the hand of your clock is here, and so on. We say we measure time with clocks, but we see only the hands of the clocks, not time itself. And the hands of a clock are a physical variable like any other. So in a sense we cheat because what we really observe are physical variables as a function of other physical variables, but we represent that as if everything is evolving in time. ~ Carlo Rovelli

When you do a lot of acting your entire life, you see the entire set from one point of view. To have a chance to step back and pull it all together is really exciting. You want to do it all; you want to have a hand in everything. ~ Danica McKellar

Sophie, have you had any contact with Archer Cross?"
Every eye in the room was on me, and I had this bizarre urge to cover my face. I knew everything I was feeling was painted all over it. "No. I thought maybe…" I turned to cal. "Did you see him? When you went in to get Dad at Thorne Abbey?"
It's not like I expected Cal to go, Yes, I did. In fact, I was keeping him in my pocket. Here you go. But when Cal met my eyes and said, "Your dad was alone in the cell when I got there," the words physically hurt.
You're lucky, I reminded myself. Your dad is here. So is Cal. And Jenna is safe. What were the chances that you'd get everyone back?
"The cell door had been broken down," Cal continued, "so your dad and I figured The Eye took him."
"You don't remember anything?" I asked Dad.
A rueful expression was on his face as he shook his head. "I was unconscious, I'm afraid."
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I said, "I'm sure you're right. He's probably with The Eye." And they were either still keeping him as their pet warlock, or they'd found out about the two of us working together, and killed him. Either way, Archer was gone. ~ Rachel Hawkins

Who told you that?" I say. "Davy Prentiss?"
He blinks. "What?"
"What do you mean what?" My voice is harder now. "Your new best friend. The man who shot me, Todd, and who you ride to work with laughing every morning."
He clenches his hands into fists.
"You've been spying on me?" he says. "Three months I don't see you, three months I don't hear nothing from you and you been spying? Is that what yer doing in your spare time when yer not blowing people up?"
"Yeah," I yell, my voice getting louder to match his. "Three months of defending you to people who'd only be too happy to call you enemy, Todd. Three months of wondering why the hell you're working so hard for the Mayor and how he knew to go right for the ocean the day after we spoke." He winces, but I keep going, thrusting out my arm and pulling up on the sleeve. "Three months wondering why you put these on women!"
His face changes in an instant. He actually calls out as if he felt the pain himself. He puts a hand to his mouth to stifle it but his Noise is suddenly washed with blackness. He moves his fingertips of his other hand within reach of the band, hovering over my skin, over the band that'll never be removed unless I lose my arm. The skin is still red, and band 1391 still trobs, despite the healing of three mistresses.
"Oh, no," he says. "Oh, no."
The side door opens and the man who let me in leans out. "Everything all right out there, Lieutenant?"
"Lieutenant?" I say.
~ Patrick Ness

I'd better have a glass then. To complete my ensemble." Kestrel didn't quite forget her promise to Arin not to drink, but rather willed it away along with everything else about him.
"Oh, yes," said Jess. "You must. Don't you think so, Ronan?"
"I don't think. I am thinking of nothing other than what Kestrel could be thinking, and whether she will dance with me. If I'm not mistaken, there is one final dance before this legendary wine is served."
Kestrel's happiness faltered. "I'd love to, but…won't your parents mind?"
Ronan and Jess exchanged a glance. "They're not here," Ronan said. "They've left to spend the winter season in the capital."
Which meant that, were they here, they would object--as would any parents, given the scandal.
Ronan read Kestrel's face. "It doesn't matter what they think. Dance with me."
He took her hand, and for the first time in a long while, she felt safe. He pulled her to the center of the floor and into the motions of the dance.
Ronan didn't speak for a few moments, then touched a slim braid that curved in a tendril along Kestrel's cheek. "This is pretty."
The memory of Arin's hands in her hair made her stiffen.
"Gorgeous?" Ronan tried again. "Transcendent? Kestrel, the right adjective hasn't been invented to describe you."
She attempted a light tone. "What will ladies do, when this kind of exaggerated flirtation is no longer the fashion? We shall be spoiled."
"You know it's not mere flirtat ~ Marie Rutkoski

Clouds And Waves

Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon."
I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?"
They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."
"My mother is waiting for me at home, "I say, "How can I leave
her and come?"
Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.
The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass."
I ask, "But how am I to join you?"
They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves."
I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-
how can I leave her and go?"
They smile, dance and pass by.
But I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
And no one in the world will know where we both are. ~ Rabindranath Tagore

Hey, and the rock star is here too! How you doing, son?"
"Hey, Mr. Rossi. Thanks for having me today. I'm doing great. How have you been?" I answered.
He lowered his gaze and stepped closer to me. "Good, good, son. I'm sure glad that everything was settled and you didn't have anything to do with hurting our Gracie. Lea told me that you were the one to help her when that son of a bitch got his hands on her. We're forever in your debt, Shane. I knew you couldn't have hurt her." He slid in front of the dining room chair at the head of the table, and sat down, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. A serious expression crossed his features, "So did anybody get the son of a bitch, yet? Or am I going to have to make some calls ... " Holy shit, it's like the Godfather. ~ Christine Zolendz

The care of babies involves education, and is entrusted only to the most fit," she repeated.

"Then you separate mother and child!" I cried in cold horror, something of Terry's feeling creeping over me, that there must be something wrong among these many virtues.

"Not usually," she patiently explained. "You see, almost every woman values her maternity above everything else. Each girl holds it close and dear, an exquisite joy, a crowning honor, the most intimate, most personal, most precious thing. That is, the child-rearing has come to be with us a culture so profoundly studied, practiced with such subtlety and skill, that the more we love our children the less we are willing to trust that process to unskilled hands - even our own."

"But a mother's love - " I ventured.

She studied my face, trying to work out a means of clear explanation.

"You told us about your dentists," she said, at length, "those quaintly specialized persons who spend their lives filling little holes in other persons' teeth - even in children's teeth sometimes."

"Yes?" I said, not getting her drift.

"Does mother-love urge mothers - with you - to fill their own children's teeth? Or to wish to?"

"Why no - of course not," I protested. "But that is a highly specialized craft. Surely the care of babies is open to any woman - any mother!"

"We do not think so," she gently replied. "Those of us who are the most highly ~ Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Since your asshole ex-husband took all his shit with him and we have nothing fun to burn, we'll start with this pile of shitty clothes," she tells me, kicking the stack with her toe.

"We're not burning my clothes. Do you have any idea how expensive those pieces were?" I argue, even though the sight of all my monotone, plain clothing makes me want to reach for the closest lighter.

"Cindy, you had a breakthrough the other night. You are on the track toward recovery and the first step is admitting you have a problem. Repeat after me: I will no longer put things on my body that are golden wheat, ecru, light baby-shit tan, or anything else in the beige family unless what I'm putting on my body is an actual man with that color skin tone," Ariel recites, putting her hands on her hips and raising one eyebrow as she waits for me to comply with her request. "And we don't have to burn everything. Just a few pieces to make you feel better. And by you I mean me, because if I have to look at this crap any longer, I'm going to throw up in my mouth. We can sell the rest. ~ Tara Sivec

I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry. It's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It's a dream already ended. There's nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born ~ Jack Kerouac

Why did you defect now? Why here? There are other troll tribes and hundreds of cities that aren't at war with your King."
"But only the Trylle have Wendy." Loki's smile returned but his eyes ere pained. "And how could I pass on that?"
"She is married, you know," Finn said. "So it might be a good idea if you stopped trying to flirt with her. She's not interested."
"It's up to her to decide who she's interested in," Loki said, with an edge to his voice. "And it's not exactly like you're following your own advice."
"I am her tracker." Finn sat up in bed, but this time I didn't try to stop him. His eyes were burning. "It's my job to protect her."
"No, Duncan is her tracker." Loki pointed to where Duncan stood in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at their confrontation. "And Wendy's stronger than the both of you combined. You're not protecting her. You're protecting yourself because you're a lovesick ex-boyfriend."
"You think you have everything figured out, but you don't know anything," Finn growled. "If it were up to me I'd have you sent back to the Vittra in a flash."
"But it's not up to you!" I snapped. "It's up to me. And this conversation is over. Finn needs to rest, and you are not helping anything, Loki."
"Sorry," Loki said and rubbed his hands on his pants.
"Why don't you go back to your room?" I asked Loki. "I'll be over to talk to you in a minute."
He nodded and got up. "Feel better," Loki said to Finn, and he actually soun ~ Amanda Hocking

You think you know what a man is? You have no idea what a man is. You think you know what a daughter is? You have no idea what a daughter is. You think you know what this country is? You have no idea what this country is. You have a false image of everything. All you know is what a fucking glove is. This country is frightening. Of course she was raped. What kind of company do you think she was keeping? Of course out there she was going to get raped. This isn't Old Rimrock, old buddy - she's out there, old buddy, in the USA. She enters that world, that loopy world out there, with whats going on out there - what do you expect? A kid from Rimrock, NJ, of course she didn't know how to behave out there, of course the shit hits the fan. What could she know? She's like a wild child out there in the world. She can't get enough of it - she's still acting up. A room off McCarter Highway. And why not? Who wouldn't? You prepare her for life milking the cows? For what kind of life? Unnatural, all artificial, all of it. Those assumptions you live with. You're still in your olf man's dream-world, Seymour, still up there with Lou Levov in glove heaven. A household tyrannized by gloves, bludgeoned by gloves, the only thing in life - ladies' gloves! Does he still tell the one about the woman who sells the gloves washing her hands in a sink between each color? Oh where oh where is that outmoded America, that decorous America where a woman had twenty-five pairs of gloves? Your kid blows your nor ~ Philip Roth

You want what you can't have. I see it in your eyes. The pain that fills your nights is because of my pack of lies. I've opened up the door for you
to walk away. There's a better path for you even though I want you to stay. I've broken the rules, I've veered from the path but when I met you I
knew to save you was worth the wrath. Let me leave now before it's too late. Let me leave now before you know what I am and your love becomes
hate.
Walk away from me before I break down and take you with me. You can't go where I'm going you can't walk through my Hell. Walk away from me
before I break down and take you with me. My path is meant for only me. There is no way to take you too. I've given you life when it was in my
hands to give you death. Walk away from me.
112
Existence
I watch the life I know you will lead without me here. It's what you deserve it is where you belong it is everything I want but everything I fear. Once I
met you I knew I had to save you but you saved me. Now I'm turning away and letting you run free. Not one moment will I forget there is a fire
inside me that you lit with your touch. Hurting you wasn't the plan but it must happen by my hand.
Walk away from me before I break down and take you with me. You can't go where I'm going you can't walk through my Hell. Walk away from me
before I break down and take you with me. My path is meant for only me. There is no way to take you too. I've given yo ~ Abbi Glines

Why would you care what happened to me? That's all in the past." Jagger bent down and touched his forehead to hers. "Because you're mine. And 'mine' means you have my protection. 'Mine' means I'll look after you. It means nothing happens you don't want to happen and no one touches you without your consent. It means your life is in my hands and I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe and secure and your needs are met. It means something happened to you that twisted your perception so bad, you look at us and you see only them. I'll make that right. I'll give you justice. I'll give you back whatever was taken from you. ~ Anonymous

Since there is no place large enough
to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
and in that way, be known. ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

Like it or not, everything is changing. The result will be the most wonderful experience in the history of man or the most horrible enslavement that you can imagine. Be active or abdicate. The future is in your hands. ~ Milton William Cooper

You are impossibly cruel, Louis,' Harry whispers, turning his body to face him so that they are nose-to-nose, heart-to-heart. Louis' entire body is thrumming with too many emotions and too many desires and too many fears. 'You are cruel for making everything else seem dull. You are cruel for imprisoning me in your very touch - ' - carefully, he brings the pads of his fingers to Louis' cheekbones, swirls delicate patterns onto his flesh - ' - for freeing me with your every word - ' - his fingers slide to graze over Louis' lips - ' - and for bestowing upon me the most painful sense of longing that I've ever had the pleasure to suffer at the hands of. You have shown me color in a world of gray and you are cruel, Louis Tomlinson, for you take the color with you every moment that you're not beside me. You are cruel because I will gladly suffer until the world has returned. ~ Velvetoscar

If you want to know everything about the market, go to the beach. Push and pull your hands with the waves. Some are bigger waves, some are smaller. But if you try to push the wave out when it's coming in, it'll never happen. The market is always right. ~ Ed Seykota

We are all made good and positive declaration about the year 2015. We are all expecting breakthroughs in our lives, new things to happen to give us life changing. Guess what my friends, nothing is going to happen without action. We can't fold our hands and expect life changing or expect others to do it for us, that's impossible. The Bible says, 'God will bless you in all your work and in everything you put your hand to (Deut.15:10). That means whatever we are expecting to happen today has to come out of hands. God promotes hard work and hard work is honourable. ~ Euginia Herlihy

The following afternoon, Rizq returned to our chambers. I was curious to find out how his experiment went (his foursome with Caroline, Gaston and Jacques). "Hi Rizq. It is good to see you; how did it go with your four-way?" Rizq looked at the floor, searching for words to describe his experience. "I found it hard to concentrate, as there were all these hands caressing me and everything happening all at once. I lost my concentration. Although I enjoyed the various interactions, I prefer to stick to one-on-one. "I did enjoy being inside Caroline with Gaston in me, from behind. This was very stimulating." I replied, "At least you tried and you can now best decide your preference." Andy asked, "Now, Rizq are you ready to be shaven?" "Yes, I am. ~ Young

What you need to do, is to put your will over completely into the hands of your Lord, surrendering to Him the entire control of it. Say, "Yes, Lord, YES!" to everything, and trust Him to work in you to will, as to bring your whole wishes and affections into conformity with His own sweet, and lovable, and most lovely will. It is wonderful what miracles God works in wills that are utterly surrendered to Him. He turns hard things into easy, and bitter things into sweet. It is not that He puts easy things in the place of the hard, but He actually changes the hard thing into an easy one. ~ Hannah Whitall Smith

The now-famous yearly Candlebrow Conferences, like the institution itself, were subsidized out of the vast fortune of Mr. Gideon Candlebrow of Grossdale, Illinois, who had made his bundle back during the great Lard Scandal of the '80s, in which, before Congress put an end to the practice, countless adulterated tons of that comestible were exported to Great Britain, compromising further an already debased national cuisine, giving rise throughout the island, for example, to a Christmas-pudding controversy over which to this day families remain divided, often violently so. In the consequent scramble to develop more legal sources of profit, one of Mr. Candlebrow's laboratory hands happened to invent "Smegmo," an artificial substitute for everything in the edible-fat category, including margarine, which many felt wasn't that real to begin with. An eminent Rabbi of world hog capital Cincinnati, Ohio, was moved to declare the product kosher, adding that "the Hebrew people have been waiting four thousand years for this. Smegmo is the Messiah of kitchen fats." [...]

Miles, locating the patriotically colored Smegmo crock among the salt, pepper, ketchup, mustard, steak sauce, sugar and molasses, opened and sniffed quizzically at the contents. "Say, what is this stuff?"

"Goes with everything!" advised a student at a nearby table. "Stir it in your soup, spread it on your bread, mash it into your turnips! My doormates comb their hair with it! There's a million uses fo ~ Thomas Pynchon

I took a steadying breath. "Listen, I know we have a full night ahead of us, but I wanted to give you your birthday present."

"Oh, darling, you didn't need to get me anything. Every day with you is a gift." He leaned in and kissed me.

"Well, I hadn't planned on getting you a gift, but then something presented itself, so here we are."

"All right then," he said, placing his glass on the ground. "I'm ready. Where is it?"

"That's the only problem," I started. I felt my hands begin to shake. "It won't actually arrive for another seven or eight months."

He smiled but squinted. "Eight months? What in the world could take . . ."

As his words drifted away, so did his eyes, leaving my face and making their way to my stomach. He seemed to expect me to look different, for me to be as big as a house already. But I'd done my best to hide everything: the tiredness, the nausea, the sudden distaste for foods.

He stared on and on, and I waited for him to smile or laugh or jump up and down. But he sat there, frozen to the point that it started to frighten me.

"Maxon?" I reached out and touched his leg. "Maxon, are you all right?"

He nodded, still watching my stomach. ~ Kiera Cass

Homer looked back at me. 'Pete, can I tell ya somethin' real important?'

'Sure, what is it?' I couldn't imagine what Homer was about to say.

He sat down on a rounded rock. I sat down too.

'One thing I've learned is that ya never know what's gonna happen to ya in this old life. Everything can change, just like that.' He snapped his fingers, loud and fast. 'You never know what might happen to ya and that dawg ah yers. Ya know what you should do? You ought to settle down here ... On my mountain.' His words were coming quickly and eagerly. 'I'll teach ya all the ways of livin' up here, and someday when ya get a place built, you can have yerself a family.'

Homer wasn't kidding me.

'And, besides, ya know I ain't gonna be here forever. When I leave, then you can take care of this place for me. You understand more than anyone why I love this place so much. I know ya wouldn't let them lumbermen and hunters come up here and hurt my place.'

There was a shell around Homer and reaching his heart was like breaking a granite boulder with your bare hands. But now, Homer's heart was breaking. After he finished he turned away from me. When he turned back, his questioning eyes were teary.

'Homer, what you just said was beautiful.' I looked down at my boots and rolled a rock back and forth under my heel. 'But, I don't know. I'll have to give it some serious thought, okay?'

As quickly as Homer had broken his s ~ Peter Jenkins

There's not one positive thing about being broke. The worst of it is the day-to-day grind of it all. You never know when that treadmill is finally going to buckle and hurl you into the wall. So you find yourself having to run faster and faster, just to keep from falling off. You can adjust to the hunger and the tiredness for the most part, having to choose between feeding yourself and feeding your electric meter; but one thing you can't adjust to is the nagging anxiety. Whoever designed this loathsome system must think we're all living these wonderful lives where money grows in the palms of our hands.

There's never any reassurance that everything is going to be okay; a promise that tomorrow will be slightly more bearable than today. Every minute of your life is consumed by a relentless feeling that time will only ever lead you to the worst possible outcome. And why - when you haven't eaten a decent meal in two weeks and you've spent the last four days lying on a mattress just to conserve energy - should you believe any differently? ~ Rupert Dreyfus

Then, Zil and a half dozen of his crew swaggered into the plaza from the far side. Astrid clenched her jaw. Would the crowd turn on them? She almost hoped so. People thought because she wouldn't let Sam go after Zil she must not really despise the Human Crew's Leader. That was wrong. She hated Zil. Hated everything he had done and everything he had tried to do.
Edilio moved quickly between Zil and a few of the boys who had started toward him, sticks and knives at the ready.
Zil's kids were armed with knives and bats, and so were those who wanted to take them on. Edilio was armed with an assault rifle.
Astrid hated that this was what life so often came down to: my weapon is bigger than your weapon.
If Sam were here it would be about his hands. Everyone had either seen what Sam could do, or heard the stories retold in vivid detail. No one challenged Sam. ~ Michael Grant

Franz shook his head. When a society is rich, its people don't need to work with their hands;they can devote themselves to activities of the spirit. We have more and more universities and more and more students. If students are going to earn degrees, they've got to come up with dissertation topics. And since dissertations can be written about everything under the sun, the number of topics is infinite. Sheets of paper covered with words pile up in archives sadder than cemeteries, because no one ever visits them, not even on All Souls' Day. Culture is perishing in overproduction, in an avalanche of words, in the madness of quantity. That's why one banned book in your former country means infinitely more than the billions of words spewed out by our universities. ~ Milan Kundera

On the surface, ojalá translates to "hopefully" in English. But that's just on paper, merely the dictionary definition. The reality is that there are some words that defy translation; their meaning contains a whole host of things simmering beneath the surface. There's beauty contained in the word, more than the flippancy of an idle hope. It speaks to the tenor of life, the low points and the high, the sheer unpredictability of it all. And at the heart of it, the word takes everything and puts it into the hands of a higher power, acknowledging the limits of those here on earth, and the hope, the sheer hope, the kind you hitch your life to, that your deepest wish, your deepest yearning will eventually be yours. ~ Chanel Cleeton

But when we are locked in a toxic relationship or community, spiritual pollution can murder everything tender and Christlike in us; and a watching world doesn't always witness those private kill shots. Unhealthy relationships can destroy our hope, optimism, gentleness. We can lose our heart and lose our way while pouring endless energy into an abyss that has no bottom. There is a time to put redemption in the hands of God and walk away before destroying your spirit with futile diligence. Sometimes the bravest thing is to stop fighting for something that is never going to produce a winner. ~ Jen Hatmaker

Always bear this in mind: Everything is in God's hands, and you are His tool to be used by Him as He pleases. Try to grasp the significance of 'all is His'. and you will immediately feel free from all burdens. What will be the result of your surrender to Him? None will seem alien, all will be your very own Self. ~ Anandamayi Ma

Thus spoke the Beauty and her voice had a cheerful ring, and her face was aflame with a great rejoicing. She finished her story and began to laugh quietly, but not cheerfully. The Youth bowed down before her and silently kissed her hands, inhaling the languid fragrance of myrrh, aloe and musk which wafted from her body and her fine robes. The Beauty began to speak again.

'There came to me streams of oppressors, because my evil, poisonous beauty bewitches them. I smile at them, they who are doomed to death, and I feel pity for each of them, and some I almost loved, but I gave myself to no one. Each one I gave but one single kiss - and my kisses were innocent as the kisses of a tender sister. And whomsoever I kissed, died.'

The soul of the troubled Youth was caught in agony, between two quite irresolvable passions, the terror of death and an inexpressible ecstasy. But love, conquering all, overcoming even the anguish of death's grief, was triumphant once again today. Solemnly stretching out his trembling hands to the tender and terrifying Beauty, the Youth exclaimed, 'If death is in your kiss, o beloved, let me revel in the infinity of death. Cling to me, kiss me, love me, envelop me with the sweet fragrance of your poisonous breath, death after death pour into my body and into my soul before you destroy everything that once was me!'

'You want to! You are not afraid!' exclaimed the Beauty.

The face of the Beauty was pale in the rays ~ Valery Bryusov

The sun is perfect and you woke this morning. You have enough language in your mouth to be understood. You have a name, and someone wants to call it. Five fingers on your hand and someone wants to hold it. If we just start there, every beautiful thing that has and will ever exist is possible. If we start there, everything, for a moment, is right in the world. ~ Warsan Shire