Golden Quotes (page 4)
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Within minutes my 115-mile walk through the desert hills becomes a thing apart, a disjunct reality on the far side of a bottomless abyss, immediately beyond physical recollection.
But it’s all still there in my heart and soul. The walk, the hills, the sky, the solitary pain and pleasure—they will grow larger, sweeter, lovelier in the days to come, like a treasure found and then, voluntarily, surrendered. Returned to the mountains with my blessing. It leaves a golden glowing on the mind.
Edward Abbey
for how many years have you gone through the houseshutting the windows, while the rain was still five miles awayand veering, o plum-colored clouds, to the northaway from youand you did not even know enoughto be sorry, you were gladthose silver sheets, with the occasional golden staple, were sweeping on, elsewhere, violent and electric and uncontrollable--and will you find yourself finally wanting to forgetall enclosures, includingthe enclosure of yourself, o lonely leaf, and will youdash...
Mary Oliver
There is one final point, the point that separates a true multivolume work from a short story, a novel, or a series. The ending of the final volume should leave the reader with the feeling that he has gone through the defining circumstances of Main Character's life. The leading character in a series can wander off into another book and a new adventure better even than this one. Main Character cannot, at the end of your multivolume work. (Or at least, it should seem so.) His life may continue,...
Gene Wolfe
When you walk through the storm, hold your head high. And don't be afraid of the dark! At the end of the storm is a golden sky. And the sweet song of the lark. Walk on through the wind. Walk on through the rain. Though your dreams be tossed & blown. Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart. And you'll never walk alone!
Douglas Adams
After a sleepless night the body gets weaker, It becomes dear and not yours - and nobody's. Just like a seraph you smile to people. And arrows moan in the slow arteries. After a sleepless night the arms get weaker. And deeply equal to you are the friend and foe. Smells like Florence in the frost, and in each. Sudden sound is the whole rainbow. Tenderly light the lips, and the shadow's golden. Near the sunken eyes. Here the night has sparked. This brilliant likeness - and from the dark night....
Marina Tsvetaeva
The New ColossusNot like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses...
Emma Lazarus