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secret-rendezvous1d · 6 years

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Cologne Christmas.

DECEMBER 5TH, 2017

Harry and the missus and the kids spending Christmas at a vacation

I’m not so sure how I feel about this short and sweet one... some of the requests are really getting my brain going and searching for ideas. I haven’t written a whole load about the four kids, all in one story, for a long while, so I hope this one lives up to something good. Thank you all for the most loveliest of feedback. It’s been so great to get back into the swing of things and getting back into the writing feel; I’ve missed it so much and I can’t wait to do more and more it when next year rolls around!

It’s going up earlier than usual today... just because I’ve got a busy evening planned, with some shopping to do and some decorating to help with, and I don’t want to miss a 6pm post. But, hey! I know you guys like it when I post earlier than normal. ;))

Feedback is welcomed, as always.

Enjoy! xx

The aroma of hot chestnuts and glazed apples and gingerbread biscuits, thick with hint of cinnamon, sat heavy in the Cologne atmosphere, wafting through the alleys lining the packed streets of the German markets and steaming from each pagoda, and wooden shack, that you passed on your slow walk through the crowd of people. The smell hitting you in the face each time you came to a halt to allow the kids to take a look at the brightly-lit stands surrounding you. Their tiny faces illuminated with, not only, the literal light as the lamps glowed before them but a metaphorical light of happiness and joy taking over them. Some displaying German books, some showing off what it was like on a glass-blower’s daily schedule, some crowded with curious eyes to see a specific gadget being shown off, that whizzed and whirred, some catching Persephone’s eyes as they sold trinkets she could see in her bedroom, and some being shelter to children’s toys and plush bears that had caught the eyes of Alfie and Darcy, Rose having fallen asleep against Harry’s shoulder, snoozing into his neck, as she’d attached herself to his hip from the moment they’d left the hotel room.

They hadn’t ever seen something so magical and so beautiful and so spectacularly sumptuous.

In the trees, standing tall above them, bare and naked and sporting just a set of thick twigs, were glowing fairy lights that twinkled and flashed, rhythmically. And, hanging on strings, above the walkways and of all shapes and sizes, were large stars bold with a yellow luminescence. Enough of them to help guide the way down the turns. There were faux holly bushes, dotted with falsely sugared berries, hanging from the roofs and, stood in the centre of all the festive chaos, and ahead of the cathedral that was built tall and sturdy and light with spot-lights, was a Christmas tree. Decorated with the most elegant of baubles, with glitter scripture in the German tongue, and little tassels of tinsel catching in the bitter air.

It was nothing like London was at Christmas, and it couldn’t ever be compared to Hyde Park’s Winter Wonderland, and it caught them in a completely mesmerised state as they took in their surroundings.

“Daddy, can we get some hot chocolates again?” Persephone asked, her gloved hand tugging on Harry’s free hand, his other cradling his five year old upon his hip, as she looked up at him with a glisten of hope in her eyes, green and bold and similar to his own. Cheeks bitten with the frosty wind, tinged a (almost) dark magenta, with her lips a little chapped and cut in some areas from the wind that nibbled at her wet skin. Chocolate still clinging to the corners, forming a rather thin line above her upper lip that she’d missed with her swiping tongue, and that he’d missed with his wool-clad thumb, when devouring her previous hot chocolate. Alfie’s ears perking up from your side as he looked up at you, any mention of something warm making him want it. “Can we, daddy?”

“If it’s alright with your mum,” he craned his neck around to look over his shoulder to send a glance in your direction, seeing Darcy, now, upon your hip and watching behind you, with Alfie tucked underneath your arm, the underside of his nose glistening as he sniffled, “I think we could all do with something hot to drink, yeah? A nice sit down to warm up, as well, because my toes are freezing in my shoes.”

He looked down at his black Vans, completely worn out, with laces loose and almost turning into a dark grey rather than the crisp white, that they once were, and tried wiggling his numb toes at the front. Barely feeling them as that sat, numb and almost feeling dead, as he wobbled his weight. His face scrunching as he waited for the burn, that prickled up the soles of his feet, to come to a stop.

“Daddy, you’re not wearin’ any socks, that’s why,” Persephone cackled, her boots scuffing across the tarmac, kicking smaller stones in her path and cringing back slightly when one large one, in particular, caught the heel of someone’s shoe, although, much to her fortune, had gone unnoticed as she strolled passed. “Mummy told you to put socks on.”

“Mummy did tell me, didn’t she? And daddy didn’t listen because daddy thought he knew better. But, mummy always knows best at these things,” he chuckled softly, coming to a halt in front of a petite little shack, decorated with hanging tapestries outside and garlands around the doorframe, with a sign above the entrance saying ERFRISCHUNGEN, smelling strong of all sorts of spices and German delicacies and sweet treats that he’d seen, during his travels as a teenager, but never once tried. His toes already feeling the slither of warm as he let Persephone lead the way up the slope. “Seff, hold on a minute, poppet. Let’s wait for mummy to catch up first. Gon’a lose her otherwise n’she’s got the hotel key.”

You weren’t so far behind the three of them but, with a five-year old wiggling in your hold, who was eager to touch everything she could get her hands on and grab whatever she could, and a seven-year old, who was suffering from the tail-end of a rough cold and wanted nothing but to be snuggled into your side for warmth, it was a challenge to manoeuvre between groups of people. Apologising, with a sorrowful, yet rather tight, smile on your lips, as they side-glanced you. Popping out into a gap and strolling forward. Coming to a stop before him as Darcy began to wiggle more in your hold, shoes digging into areas that caused slight discomfort, eager to get down on her feet and run havoc in the space, impatiently wanting to scurry towards the direction of the slope.

“You get the kids some hot chocolates. I’m going to get us some mulled wine. Might even see if they have a bottle that we can buy and share when the kids are in bed later,” you grinned, snaking your arm from around Alfie’s shoulders and setting Darcy on the ground as she took a run towards her eldest sister. Persephone swinging and twirling around on a pole, twisted and twirled tinsel sellotaped to the metal. “No sweet treats for the kids, okay? Especially the twins. They’re absolute nightmares to put down when they’re on a sugar rush. And I mean that, Harry. Or else you can sort them out for bedtime tonight,” you informed him, eyes dropping to Alfie, who whined at the loss of your warm side, “I’ll be back in a minute, sweet boy. I’m just going to get me and your dad something to drink. You stay with him and-”

“Bu’, mummy, s’cold,” he whimpered under his breath, the cold air making his heavy breathing visible as his teeth chattered and his knees knocked together, “m’cold, mummy.”

“I know you are. I know. But a nice hot chocolate will make you feel all warm and cosy and then we’ll head back to the hotel and have a nice cuddle in bed before we go to sleep. Might even get you warm in a bath. Got’a sweat this cold out of you,” you cooed softly, cupping his chilly cheek in your palm and running your thumb across the curve, catching the wind-induced tears that sat under his eye. His hands coming up to pull down his beanie that covered his curls and warmed up his ears. “Nothing but a good sleep that won’t fix you up, Alfie. We fly home tomorrow and it won’t as cold in London, will it?” He shook his head as Harry’s palm softly came to rest upon his back. “Go with daddy, get some nice hot chocolate, and we’ll make our way back.”

“Come on, bugger. Let’s get you nice and warm. I think there’s a hot chocolate, in there, with your name on it,” Harry hummed, guiding Alfie up the slope, before sending a wink in your direction, enough for you to spin on your heels and tighten your coat around your torso. Scarf wound around your neck as you cosied into it. Disappearing around the corner with only the cream bobble of your maroon beanie on show. Rose slowing coming to, her head lifting from his shoulder, groggily whining and yawning out, heavily, as she rubbed her eyes with her fists. “Hello, rosebud. Did you have a nice sleep? Was daddy’s shoulder comfortable?”

She nodded, his head ducking down to miss the hanging sign from colliding with his forehead. His eyes seeing his eldest daughter sat with one of his youngest, helping her slide off her coat and setting her gloves on the table top. His son, his cheeks finding a bit of colour from the heat of the small space, falling to the seat opposite and dropping his head to his forearms. Refusing to take off his coat as the beanie slipped from his head. Landing beside a shaker of sugar. Harry set Rose down in a seat before he shrugged out of his coat, draping it over Alfie’s shoulders before ruffling his hair.

“Think we could do with some marshmallows with our hot drinks, as well, yeah? But, you can’t tell mummy, do you understand me? Promised her that we’d have no sugar,” he snickered, looking towards Persephone as she dragged two extra chairs from an empty table, “Seff, can you look after everyone whilst I pop to the counter, yeah? Four hot chocolates, right?”

“Daddy, can I have a cuppa instead?”

“A cuppa, hm?” His lips quirked up as Persephone nodded sporadically, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You, little lady, have been spending too much time with Auntie Gem, haven’t you? She’s always called it a cuppa. Drinks it all the time, doesn’t she?”

“She always puts two extra spoonfuls into mine,” she admitted, hands coming up to cup her mouth at the sudden confession; one that she promised her auntie that she wouldn’t spill to her parents. Eyes wide as she giggled. “Always lets me choose as many digestives as I want, as well. And uncle Michal always buys those bourbons and custard creams.”

“Custard creams?” Harry dramatised, his eyes widening and his eyebrows furrowing as his mouth fell open, “I think they might be corrupting you, poppet. Me and mummy don’t like custard creams,” he teased, his trainers scuffing across the wooden panels of the floor as he swiped his wallet from his front pocket, asking for four hot chocolates and a bowl of marshmallows, that he knew he would need to help eat and hide before you came back, slipping a twenty euro note from the back slot of the leather and passing it over, “Rose, you wan’a come and get the marshmallows for me?”

* *

“You gave Darcy something sugary, didn’t you?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders with a smirk on his lips, taking a seat on the balcony beside you and reaching forward for the glass of mulled wine that you’d poured about an hour ago. Pouring more than you’d poured yourself because, it was quite possibly that he needed more, after chasing a 5-year old around a hotel room. Her squeals and her cackles and her giggling and tiny feet coming to a halt and suddenly dying down once the clock ticked passed 9pm, passing out on the bedroom floor, just a few feet from the bed she shared with Rose. He kicked up his feet and rested them upon the chilled bar of the balcony railings, eyes focused on the lights that shone in the horizon as the markets still continued.

“I may have brought them all a bowl of marshmallows to share with their hot chocolates,” he hummed behind the rim of his wine glass, allowing the burning liquid to trickle down his throat and give his tastebuds a burst of life, “that’s some good stuff, innit? Mum and Gem would love some of that. Your mum would find it ravishing, too. Should’ve brought a coupl’a bottles to take home with us. Could’ve cracked it open on Christmas day evening when all the family come.”

You ignored his attempt at trying to change the subject and cocked an eyebrow up, twisting in your seat to face him, the cushioned pillows sliding beneath you.

“I told you what happens, mister. She’s an absolute nightmare when she’s had sugar. She’ll be grumpy at the airport tomorrow and I don’t need angry Germans scolding me, in their native tongue, to shush my child,” you huffed, swiping your socked foot up the back of his calf and frowning at him, “you’re just as much of a nightmare. She should’ve been tucking her into bed. Not running around it.”

“We’re on a small weekend holiday, Gorgeous. Lighten up a little bit, yeah?” He grinned, reaching his hand across and wrapping his fingers around yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, “have you had fun this weekend? Did I do a good job in picking a good place to come?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, nodding your head softly, “yeah, you did really good.”

“I know it’s not Paris or Italy or America but, I remember you telling me, and I think it was on our wedding night, that you wanted to go to the German markets at Christmas time. Never got around to taking you back in the year we got married ‘cause I’d just finished a tour and then we had Persephone the next year and,” he brought your hand to his mouth a pressed a kiss to your knuckles, letting his lips linger against the soft skin, “we never got the chance to go. When you said, to Gemma, a few months back, that you wanted to go awake for the weekend, at Christmas, I knew it was the best place.”

“That was over thirteen years ago,” you reminded him, his eyes landing on the glistening wedding band that decorated your ring finger, “you remember that?”

“‘course I do, you nutter. You’re my wife. I’d be a pretty shit husband if-”

You interrupted with a deliberate cough, head tilting and jerking in the direction of the kids’ room, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“I’d be a pretty bad husband if I forgot what my wife desires in life. Have to fulfil her wants in life before things come to and end,” he smiled, your lips quirking into a smirk at his correction, squeezing his hand back before pulling away, letting both hands fall into your lap, thighs draped with the thick blanket he’d packed in his carry-on - for when the plane got a little chilly during the journey and the kids wanted to snuggle. “Do you fancy finishing this bottle in bed before waking up for our flight? Or are we just going to be like a coupl’a teenagers and pull an all-nighter?”

“Can you make it passed midnight without zonking out, old man?”

“Hey, I’m only 36,” he whined, taking a swig of his wine, swishing and swirling the liquid around his mouth before swallowing, “we’re the same age, you donut. F’that makes me an old man, then, you’re an old lady.”

“I’m, what the kids would call, a milf,” you grinned playfully, kicking your feet up and resting them upon his bare ones, curling your toes around his to warm the chilled tips up, “I guess that could make you a dilf because, you’re a dad that I would very much like to fuck.”

He mocked your deliberate cough and mimicked your head movements with a smirk sitting on his lips.

“Mulled wine makes you change personas, did you know that?” There’s a silence that swallowed the both of you. The sounds of Alfie’s thick and cold-induced snores, and the gentle breathing from the girls, being heard over the rumble of the cars and buses and taxis, and beeping horns of vehicles with rushing drivers at the wheels, from down below. “Got summink planned for Christmas Day. Let’s just say the big guy in red might have some involvement in it. Think you’ll be satisfied, though. Thoroughly, thoroughly satisfied.”

#one direction preferences #one direction imagines #harry styles imagines #harry imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry blurbs #1d harry #1d harry styles #blogmas 2017

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networkingdefinition · 4 years

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Tinsel Quotes

Official Website: Tinsel Quotes

• A life of mere pleasure! A little while, in the spring-time of the senses, in the sunshine of prosperity, in the jubilee of health, it may seem well enough. But how insufficient, how mean, how terrible when age comes, and sorrow, and death! A life of pleasure! What does it look like when these great changes beat against it–when the realities of eternity stream in? It looks like the fragments of a feast, when the sun shines upon the withered garlands, and the tinsel, and the overturned tables, and the dead lees of wine. – Edwin Hubbel Chapin • All great humorists are sad… I cannot help seeing beyond the tinsel of humour, and recognising the pitiful basis of jest – the world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind. – H. P. Lovecraft • An Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman were invited to a Christmas party. The Englishman brought a bag of tinsel, the Scotsman brought a bag of holly and they asked the Irishman: “What have you brought?” He said: “I brought a pair of knickers.” They asked: “What has that got to do with Christmas?” He said “They’re Carol’s.” – Frank Carson • And the sun had on a crown Wrought of gilded thistledown, And a scarf of velvet vapor And a raveled rainbow gown; And his tinsel-tangled hair Tossed and lost upon the air Was glossier and flossier Than any anywhere. – James Whitcomb Riley • At Christmas time we couldn’t afford tinsel, so we’d wait till grandpa sneezed. – Rodney Dangerfield

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Tinsel', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_tinsel').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_tinsel img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Christmas can be celebrated in the school room with pine trees, tinsel and reindeers, but there must be no mention of the man whose birthday is being celebrated. One wonders how a teacher would answer if a student asked why it was called Christmas. – Ronald Reagan • Christmas is not in tinsel and lights and outward show. The secret lies in an inner glow. It’s lighting a fire inside the heart. Good will and joy a vital part. It’s higher thought and a greater plan. It’s glorious dream in the soul of man. – Wilferd Peterson • For instance,” said the boy again, “if Christmas trees were people and people were Christmas trees, we’d all be chopped down, put up in the living room, and covered in tinsel, while the trees opened our presents.” “What does that have to do with it?” asked Milo. “Nothing at all,” he answered, “but it’s an interesting possibility, don’t you think? – Norton Juster • Go out of the house to see the moon, and ‘t is mere tinsel; it will not please as when its light shines upon your necessary journey. The beauty that shimmers in the yellow afternoons of October, who could ever clutch it? Go forth to find it, and it is gone: ‘t is only a mirage as you look from the windows of diligence. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • Go out of the house to see the moon, and’t is mere tinsel; it will not please as when its light shines upon your necessary journey. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter – they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship – but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering. – Sylvia Plath • How is Christmas regarded today? The legend of Santa Claus, the Christmas tree, the decorations of tinsel and mistletoe, and the giving of gifts all express to us the spirit of the day we celebrate; but the true spirit of Christmas lies much deeper than these. It is found in the life of the Savior, in the principles He taught, in His atoning sacrifice-which become our great heritage. – Howard W. Hunter • I believe the message in the hymn “Rise Up, O Men of God” (Hymns, no. 324) is a plea, a call, a divine invitation for us to rise above the telestial tinsel of our time; to deny ourselves of ungodliness and clothe ourselves in the mantle of holiness; to reach and stretch and grasp for that spiritual direction and sacred empowerment promised to the Lord’s agents, to those charged to act in the name of our Principal, Jesus Christ; and to point the way to salvation and deliverance and peace in a world that finds itself enshrouded in darkness, a world that yearns for spiritual leadership. – Robert L. Millet • I fight against the gluttony of time with so many very amusing weapons with gestures and with three attitudes and with charming phrases; with tears and with tinsel, and with sugar-coated pills, and with platitudes slightly regilded. Yes, and I fight him also with little mirrors wherein gleam confusedly the corruptions of lust, and ruddy loyalty, and a bit of moonshine, and the pure diamond of the heart’s desire, and the opal cloudings of human compromise: but, above all, I fight that ravening dotard with the strength of my own folly. – James Branch Cabell • I knew that I would speak in the language of the vanquished No more durable than old customs, family rituals, Christmas tinsel, and once a year the hilarity of carols. – Czeslaw Milosz • If you choose the liberty and pride and strength of the single soul, and the free fraternization of men, as the purpose which your life is to make manifest then do not sell it for tinsel. Think that your soul is strong and will hold its way; and slowly, through bitter struggle perhaps the strength will grow. – Voltairine de Cleyre • In every Christian’s Heart, there is a cross and a throne, and the Christian is on the throne till he puts himself on the cross; if he refuses the cross, he remains on the throne. Perhaps this is at the bottom of the backsliding and worldliness among Gospel believers today. We want to be saved, but we insist that Christ do all the dying. No cross for us, no dethronement, no dying. We remain king within the little kingdom of man’s soul and wear our tinsel crown with all the pride of a caesar; but we doom ourselves to shadows and weakness and spiritual sterility. – Aiden Wilson Tozer • In our worship of certainty we must distinguish between the sound certainty and the sham, between what is gold and what is tinsel; and then, when certainty is attained, we must remember that it is not the only good; that we can buy it at too high a price; that there is danger in perpetual quiescence as well as in perpetual motion; and that a compromise must be found in a principle of growth. – Benjamin Cardozo • I’ve developed a way to separate myself from me being me, to me being the character. I can separate watching me, Tinsel Korey, from watching Emily – Tinsel Korey • I’ve sold shoes, hawked newspapers, jerked sodas, gazed rapturously at the tinsel dream at the end of a runway from my usher’s aisle in a burley-cue, drove a truck – then because I didn’t like being pushed around, started pushing a pencil around. – Burne Hogarth • Life would be no better than candlelight tinsel and daylight rubbish if our spirits were not touched by what has been. – George Eliot • Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break them. Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed. I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art my best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the tinsel that fills my room. The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death; I hate it, yet hug it in love. My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy; yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted. – Rabindranath Tagore • Oh, heart, let’s never grow too old To smile anew, when Christmas comes, At tassels red and tinsel thread, And tarlatan bags f sugarplums. – Nancy Byrd Turner • Oho, now I know what you are. You are an advocate of Useful Knowledge…. Well, allow me to introduce myself to you as an advocate of Ornamental Knowledge. You like the mind to be a neat machine, equipped to work efficiently, if narrowly, and with no extra bits or useless parts. I like the mind to be a dustbin of scraps of brilliant fabric, odd gems, worthless but fascinating curiosities, tinsel, quaint bits of carving, and a reasonable amount of healthy dirt. Shake the machine and it goes out of order; shake the dustbin and it adjusts itself beautifully to its new position. – Robertson Davies • Popularity – a piece of faded tinsel, that is out of date. – Victor Hugo • She’s not my type,’ Carter says. ‘So what is your type?’ ‘Tall, skinny, black hair, blue eyes, freckly nose. Blue tinsel wig and snowflakes optional.’ ‘Skinny?’ I squeal. ‘Definitely. Pretending to be shy, sensible and stand-offish when really you’re mad about me.’ ‘You sure about that?’ ‘No, but I’m hoping. – Cathy Cassidy • Silent night, holy night, when the bough flies from the tree and is hung everywhere, when from tables the crusts fly, when the gifts begin to tremble because lovelessness walks through the world, because it snarls at you, barks at you from the snow, and the silver ribbons rip and the tinsel rustles silvery, and the silver and gold, and a golden word come to you on which you choke because you have been sold and betrayed, and because it does not suffice that for you one is redeemed who once died. – Ingeborg Bachmann • someone had tried to warn me of the kind of catastrophe that is likely to occur when you involve yourself too closely in one of those destinies that is ringed around by the transient tinsel of human applause. – Mary Deasy • Strip away the phony tinsel of Hollywood and you’ll find the real tinsel underneath. – Oscar Levant • The ribbons! The wrappings! The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings! – Dr. Seuss • There is a frantic race to merchandise tinsel and trash under the guise of ‘modernism.’ – Raymond Loewy • This barren verbiage, current among men, Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment. – Alfred Lord Tennyson • Thought is a garment and the soul’s a bride That cannot in that trash and tinsel hide: Hatred of God may bring the soul to God. – William Butler Yeats • Time, which runs through the world like an endless tinsel thread, seemed to pass through the centre of this room and through the centre of these people and suddenly to pause and petrify, stiff, still and glittering… and the objects in the room drew a little closer together. – Robert Musil • Tinsel in February, tinsel in August. There are things in a man besides his reason. – Wallace Stevens • Tinsel is really snakes’ mirrors. – Steven Wright • Titles are tinsel, power a corrupter, glorya bubble, and excessive wealth a libel on its possessor. – Percy Bysshe Shelley • Unfortunately, the headlights of the car were bright enough for them to see Mae’s outfit quite clearly. “Oh my God,” said Nick, and shut his eyes. Jamie gave a small, nervous laugh. “What?” Mae demanded. “Alan told us that we were supposed to dress as we truly are!” “And you felt that what you truly are is a Christmas tree with too much tinsel.” Nick grinned. “Huh. – Sarah Rees Brennan • We expect too much at Christmas. It’s got to be magical. It’s got to go right. Feasting. Fun. The perfect present. All that anticipation. Take it easy. Love’s the thing. The rest is tinsel. – Pam Brown • You couldn’t make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did. You had to just wait. Eventually the feeling went away because others came along. Or sometimes it didn’t go away but got squeezed into something tiny, and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind. – Elizabeth Strout

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equitiesstocks · 4 years

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Tinsel Quotes

Official Website: Tinsel Quotes

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

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