A Quote by Lucy Maud Montgomery

I like to hear a storm at night. It is so cosy to snuggle down among the blankets and feel that it can't get at you. — © Lucy Maud Montgomery
I like to hear a storm at night. It is so cosy to snuggle down among the blankets and feel that it can't get at you.
Been having a fight with your blankets, Septimus?" A familiar voice echoed down the chimney. "Looks like you lost," the voice continued with a chuckle. "Not wise to take on a pair of blankets, lad. One, maybe, but two blankets always gang up on you. Vicious things, blankets.
I don't have one favourite spot - I love writing anywhere that I feel inspired. I have to admit that I do love getting cosy in bed or under blankets on the sofa and writing from there.
The telly's almost always on. It's how I wind down after a show. It's how I relax on a rare night off. It educates me, entertains me and makes a hotel room feel a lot more cosy.
I am a big fan of cosy. I get very excited by a roaring fire and even a perfectly made cup of tea. And being married really is the ultimate in cosy, so I couldn't be more content.
Life is a dream in the night, a fear among fears, A naked runner lost in a storm of spears.
Denna is a wild thing," I explained. "Like a hind or a summer storm. If a storm blows down your house, or breaks a tree, you don't say the storm was mean. It was cruel. It acted according to its nature and something unfortunately was hurt. The same is true of Denna.
I love the sound of it," Trina whispers, as if speaking too loudly might interrupt the drumming patter of the rain outside. "It makes me want to sleep. Snuggle my head right up in your armpit and snore for three days." "My armpit?" Mark repeats. "Good thing we all showered up in the storm this morning. My pits smell like roses. Go ahead and get comfy.
A career is a wonderful thing, but you can't snuggle up to it at night.
I feel my shows are like a late-night talk show that we settle down and do every night.
Astronomy says: the sun will rise tomorrow, Zoology says: on rainbow-fish and lithe gazelle, Psychology says: but first it has to be night, so Biology says: the body-clocks are stopped all over town and History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.
It's like I'll sit down and put my hands on the piano or the guitar, and then I'll hear a sound or I'll feel a chord that will resonate and then I'll get something happening in my voice. My voice is like a car that I get into and drive but I don't know where I'm going. And I record everything. And often, I sort of get into a state, a creative state that is, where I'm just feeling around melodically, and playing things off the top of my head. Then I go back and listen to it and for the first time, hear what I just did. It's like Elvis has left the building while the thing is happening.
When I'm awake all night, sometimes I see the people and the city waking up around me. I feel a little bit moody at them for stepping into my night-time. What I want is that feeling when you're in the rain, or a storm. It's a shiver at the edge of your mind, an atmosphere of hearing a sad, distant sound, but it seems closer - like it's just for you. Like hearing rain or a whale-song, a cry in the dark, the far cry.
Each day the storm clouds were opening like great purple flowers and pouring out their dark thunder. Each nightfall, the storm was laid down on their houses like a burden the day had carried.
Everything I think seems to be controversial, so I feel like I need to just go away for a second and put it all down on paper until the storm passes.
What person, confined in a small room with nothing but a tea-cosy, will not eventually put the tea-cosy on their head?
I feel like Black Milk has found his way of putting his life into his music. I feel like, lyrically, he is a beast; a lot of people sleep on Black Milk. Black Milk is a monster. He from church. He from the street. He get down how I get down. He's a soulful cat, and I love how he get down.
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