Sure, stories can be like a fire on a cold night. But they can burn too. There ain't nothin' can cut deeper or sting with more poison than words can.
Can
How to make spiced rum. Place rum, allspice, cloves, cardamom, star anise, cinnamon, nutmeg, orange peel, and one vanilla bean—split lengthwise—in a jar and store in a dark place for 2 days. Strain ru...
The wound is the place where the light enters you. —Pablo Neruda
Mrs. Dower was gray. Her clothes, her hair, and the cloud above her head were all a shade of dark gray. With every breath she seemed to expel an invisible vapot of gloom.
Books are everywhere; and always the same sense of adventure fills us . . . in this random miscellaneous company we may rub against some complete stranger who will, with luck, turn into the best frien...
But when it looked as those the clam-kicker wouldn’t cooperate,
Draiocht.It's the Gaelic word for magic That is what you are, Ella Mae. You are Other. You are magical.
The top
A bowling ball crashed into the pins and Jane jumped and realised her task was much bigger…Storyton Hall’s reputation was at stake as well. For decades, people had come to the resort seeking respite f...
I also reread my Nancy Drew collection every few years.
In the distance, she heard the whistle of the afternoon train. Nora never tired of its long, heartrending note. What other sound could convey both the romance of returning home and the ache of leave-t...
Threw me off guard. The chief’s eyes crinkled
It’s always that way when you’re looking at books. An hour goes by in a minute: you don’t know where the hell the time went.
It’s always that way when you’re looking at books. An hour goes by in a minute: you don’t know where the hell the time went. —John Dunning
To our congregation, Savannah whispered leadenly as Bryant
Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly. —Pablo Neruda Jedediah Craig. It’s a pleasure
Einstein also said that ‘Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.’ He
Betty had her crocheting out again. The morning light winked off her needles and Olivia recognized that she was making a baby blanket.
As she inched forward through the congestion on Interstate 40, a highway that had been under construction for the past ten years, her mind wandered back to the photographs Detective McDowell had email...
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