indefiniteadventurer

[indefiniteadventurer]

She bid him farewell and started down the road, wondering when, exactly, she had fallen out of love with Thomas Lindbeck. She did not remember her heart healing, and yet it seemed clear that it had.

Gilded, Marissa Meyer

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Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had looked forward with impatient desire did not, in taking place, bring all the satisfaction she had promised herself.

Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

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“The Right Kind of Silence”

I look out the window

and see rolling hills of green,

trees and leaves standing side-by-side.

Mountains are outlined by

the blue sky, a perfect backdrop

against their rising spines.

It’s a beautiful sight.

Varying shades of emerald

fade to turquoise amidst the clouds.

A peaceful reflection of the world,

the creation of a mighty and loving God.

It’s a blessing to behold.

Surrounded by the sight,

one takes notice of the right kind of silence.

The kind that pulls at your heart

and beckons upward.

[indefiniteadventurer]

It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" she asked, as they passed through the ring of crepe myrtles. "Not the sort of day for a murder trial." "What do you mean?" David asked. "Oh, it should be overcast with a misty rain and clouds on the mountains. That's the right weather for a murder case.

Robert Whitlow, The Trial

[indefiniteadventurer]

The sane would do no good if they made themselves mad to help madmen.

C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

[indefiniteadventurer]

Well, you know what, you've got dream-boat eyes... Listen, you go right on wearing your glasses. I don't think I want anybody else to see what gorgeous eyes you have.

Madeline L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

[indefiniteadventurer]

What we now see in this subdued and delicate half-light is the promise of the dawn: the slow turning of a whole nation towards the light.

C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

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I reached out to the thing within me that I'd kept hidden for so long. I'm sorry, I whispered to it. I'm sorry I left you so long in the dark. I'm sorry, but I'm ready now. I called and the light answered.

Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone

[indefiniteadventurer]

Hold your head high, my sunshine. Remember, it's not magic that defines you. It's you. That's all the truth that there is.

The Crown’s Game by Evelyn Sky

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Yes, but where would be the fun in that?

I have been thinking about this a Lot. 

[indefiniteadventurer]

Mark of a true hero.

[indefiniteadventurer]

Prime writing music. 

[indefiniteadventurer]

The Dilemma of a Book Lover

Was that a story! My imagination’s so full. Not too gory… Not too dull…

I’ve gotta tell someone! Who’s ‘round to hear? The plot twist will stun, ‘em. But then it’s spoiling, oh dear…

So what am I supposed to do? I can’t keep this bottled inside! With the wizard, and the girl, and the horse that flew! Oh I’m so miserable, I’d rather die…

Well, come to think the next best thing would be -- I’ll read it again, more magic for me!

[indefiniteadventurer]

Life on the Vltava

A ferry is dressed in red, as it makes its daily trek across the river

and listens to the new voices of those who see the city as a rare and beautiful thing.

Buildings of a hundred years hold a thousand stories, and sing,

“We are old, not new as your eyes may consider.”

The bridge, tall and strong, stands firm against the river’s sliver,

and it carries the weight of all people while their voices ring.

The stones have been worn down by time, smoothed by each footfall’s sting.

It has been a long life of serving the feet of others, an unrecognized caregiver.

Bright colors of teal and gold are a stark contrast against the buildings’ old age,

as though a master has tried to teach an old dog new tricks.

The city stands, swirling with the breath of new days,

with a new life that leaches on and sticks.

And the river continues to flow, as the new and old play,

the city a never ending eclipse.

[indefiniteadventurer]

What a moment!

this is calm, and its doctor

[indefiniteadventurer]

Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers. How delightful if that were true.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Annie Barrows and Mary Ann Shaffer

[indefiniteadventurer]

Mama once said the most wonderful thing about being young is our ability to make things normal. That whatever life does to us, no matter how strange, it isn't long before insanity seems ordinary, as if upside down is the way things should be.

A Night Divided by Jennifer A. Nielsen