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from under the ground, from under the waters, they clutch at us, they clutch at us, we won’t let go.
There is such a thing as the poetry of a mistake, and when you say, "Mistakes were made, " you deprive an action of its poetry, and you sound like a weasel.
He turned to Miss Minerva. "I'm relying on you, at any rate. You've got a good mind. Anybody can see that.""Thank you, " she said."As good as a man's, " he added."Oh, now you've spoiled it!
You are ruin and chaos to them, but you are lovely to my eye.''You're brave or daft, then, ' she said, quite rightly. 'Chaos and ruin. Where does that leave me, then?
The trick and the beauty of language is that it seems to order the whole universe, misleading us into believing that we live in sight of a rational space, a possible harmony.
What is called poetic insight is the gift of discerning, in this sphere of strangely-mingled elements, the beauty and the majesty which are compelled to assume a garb so sordid.
I love you, " Matt said.I love you, too, " Maria replied. "I know that's a sin, and I'll probably go to hell for it."If I have a soul, I'll go with you, " promised Matt.
Those afternoons in the library, breathing the stale sun-warmed dust of a thousand stories (accented by the collective mildew of a hundred years of rising damp), had been enchanted.
Her Uncle Jaime felt that people never read what did not interest them and that if it interested them that meant they were sufficiently mature to read it.
One day in the woods he met an Indian. They stood in the wet, cold woods and looked at each other, and they could not talk because they did not know each other's words
One day in the woods he met an Indian. They stood in the wet, cold woods and looked at each other, and they could not talk because they did not know each other's words.
A void in my chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed me the right to my hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt.
The Little Drummer Boy" was playing in the background for what seemed like the third time in a row. I fought off an urge to beat that Little Drummer Boy seneless with his own drumsticks.
Experience has taught me the power of trophies. You may have every knick-knack and useless contraption ever devised, but while they weigh you down, a simple trophy can go a long, long way.