A Quote by Melissa Marr
In the end mortals always expired before faeries. They were such finite creatures. Their first heartbeat and breath were but a blink from death. To add the weight of nourishing his insatiable court in a time of peace was to hasten that unconscionably.
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Men-kind shared this world for but a blink, then, sadly, they became enlightened, found science and religion. The new world of men left little room for magic or the magical creatures of old. Earth’s first children were driven into the shadows by flame and cold iron, by man’s insatiable need of conquest.
I think people take Blink-128 more seriously now than they did before. And it's largely our fault because we called our records Enema of the State and Take Off Your Pants and Jacket. We were always kind of the underdogs, especially critically. People wrote us off as this joke band. But the people who listened to Blink knew that we were silly and whatever, but we wrote songs about divorce and suicide and depression. Those kids that were listening to Blink are now the ones that control all these outlets that used to just write us off.
She had never thought about her name much before, but when he said it, it was as if she were hearing it for the first time - the hard T, the caress of the double S, the way it seemed to end on a breath.
LeBron carries a certain weight. You feel him all the time. On the court, off the court, in the organization. I don't say 'weight' in a bad way, but his presence is always felt. He is striving for greatness at all times. Because he's such a magnetic personality and such an incredible basketball player, people follow him.
I remember when I was first time in Serie A, we were down the bottom, no one was speaking about Cagliari. And we were safe, one day before the final match. With Parma, we went down, but we were positive right to the end. There are the little details, but you have to continue.
By every mortal standard, the worst faeries in the world were those in the Dark Court. They fed on the baser emotions; they engaged in activities that the other-also amoral-faery courts repudiated. They were also the only ones she truly trusted or understood.
And at any moment it all ends with a heartbeat…just one heartbeat, and there’s no more time. One heartbeat and the chance to be saved is gone. One heartbeat and there’s no more choosing—it’s all sealed for eternal life or eternal death.
and I wonder if Beethoven held his breath the first time his fingers touched the keys the same way a soldier holds his breath the first time his finger clicks the trigger. We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.
Let us fill a cup and drink to that most noble, ridiculous, laughable, sublime figure in our lives... The Young Man Who Was. Let us drink to his dreams, for they were rainbow-colored; to his appetites, for they were strong; to his blunders, for they were huge; to his pains for they were sharp; to his time for it was brief; and to his end, for it was to become one of us.
Wealth, in terms of dollars and so forth, could be counted up, because dollars were finite. It doesn't make any difference how many dollars you have-at a certain point you only have dollars. You start with finite, you end with finite.
Wealth, in terms of dollars and so forth, could be counted up, because dollars were finite. It doesn’t make any difference how many dollars you have - at a certain point you only have dollars. You start with finite, you end with finite.
Improvisation is an important part of bluegrass, and I would hasten to add that classical music wasn't always such an improvisational void. Back in the day, everyone's cadenzas were improvised, and improvisation was taught in conservatories.
All knives and forks were working away at a rate that was quite alarming; very few words were spoken; and everybody seemed to eat his utmost, in self defence, as if a famine were expected to set in before breakfast-time to-morrow morning, and it had become high time to assert the first law of nature.
We were an extraordinary paradox. We are finite creatures made for the infinite.
Life is a disease, brother, and death begins already at birth. Every breath, every heartbeat, is a moment of dying - a little shove toward the end.
Every rock is spoon by the Word. Every time I touch a stone, I am touching the Voice of God. Every cell of me is crafted by that artistry. My life is His breath. But we mortals grow numb. We want to feel more. And so we add MSG to our earthly brands of holiness.
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