The world unwraps itself to you, again and again as soon as you are ready to see it anew.
at least i'm talkng to myself. instead of giving myself the cold shoulder
I wouldn't mind leaving myself behind if I could, but I don't know the way out.
That was such a wonderful time, even in its strangeness and sadness-and life isn't the same now. It's wonderful, but it isn't the same.
Because no retreat from the world can mask what is in your face.
Wrong takes an awful long time to be proven, in my experience.
So she listened hard. And she began to evolve, because stories work their magic that way. They build conviction and erode conviction in equal measure.
...looking at him makes her feel like laughing all over - as if she could laugh not just with her mouth but with her eyes, her heart, her very limbs.
Skibbereen have a hard time at [math]; the best that the smartest of them can do with adding two plus two is guessing: three plus one. Correct, sort of, but not always useful.
I learned failure early and mastered it.
She dreamed of leaving, but she had too little exposure to the world to imagine where to go.
Elena had always felt like the center of her own world - who doesn't? The world arranged itself around her like petals around the stem of a flower. This way the meadows, that way the woodland. Over here, the baryn's estate, out there, the hills that hug the known world close and imply a world at beyond. She could never come up with the edge of a world, because it always kept going on beyond. She moved the center of the world as she walked. The world was balanced on her head.
I learned to fly on a broom," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "I can learn to milk a goat, I bet." Though flying on a broom proved to be the easier task, he found.
The storm dropped a house on her head.
I mean, evil and boredom. Evil and ennui. Evil and the lack of stimulation. Evil and sluggish blood.
That's all I want- to do no harm.
The story of Mirror Mirror is in many ways a story about evolution. Its about the evolution of a child into an adult. Its about the evolution of those dwarves into something a little less rock-like, a little more humanoid. Its about the evolution of history, too, from the darkness of the Middle Ages into the light of the Age of Reason.
She watched the sun bleed water out of the icicle. Warm and cold working together to make an icicle. Warm and cold anger working together to make a fury, a fury worthy enough to use as a weapon against the old things that still needed fighting.
In a sense, Out of Oz is an examination of how individuals keep going, keep reinventing themselves and their lives, even after life-altering complications have afflicted them.
Before you save anyone else, you have to save yourself. otherwise, you'rejust a bundle of tics, a stringed puppet manipulated by the chance and the insensible wind.
Forgive us our trespasses," says Margarethe, "and get out of our way.
Behold the male beast roaring in the jungle for his mate," said Elphaba. "See how the female beast giggles behind a shrub while she organizes her face to say, Pardon dear, did you say something?
I actually prefer female voices to listen to, mostly, but among the male singers whose voices I like are Jeff Buckley, Art Garfunkel, that sort of voice. Contemporary crooners rather than rockers.
I do love to sing. Had I a longer set of thigh bones and a sweeter voice, I should have loved to be a performer.
How poetic you are," she said. "I've a notion that poetry is the highest form of self-deception.
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