It was spring, the barren time in March when you cannot be sure if it is really warner, but you are so desperate for change that you tell yourself the mud at the edge of the sidewalk is different than winter mud and you are sure that the smell of we soil has suddenly a bit of the scent of summer rains, of grass and drowned earthworms. And it has, because it is spring and inside the ground something is stirring. Maureen F. McHugh
Not a road long enough to outrun the dawn. Let the sun rise.I am ready. L.M. Browning, Drive Through the Night
We make ourselves in order to destroy ourselves, becoming compost for the next thing. Pear Nuallak, Pearls from Their Mouth
I thought my fireplace dead and stirred the ashes. I burned my fingers. Antonio Machado, Border of a Dream: Selected Poems
Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern. Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
Every single cell in the human body replaces itself over a period of seven years. That means there’s not even the smallest part of you now that was part of you seven years ago. Steven Hall, The Raw Shark Texts
Your hair is winter fire…
Since childhood, since her early school days, New Year’s Eve had possessed for her a mournful terror: she had elected it to represent the Nothingness which was her own life, the solid, cheerful festival which had seemed to be the lives of others. Margaret Drabble, The Radiant Way
Thin ice isn’t a problem for the sea; it’s a problem for the blind idiot who steps out on it. The fool who breaks it gets sucked under; the ice, it mends. Jennifer Giesbrecht, The Monster of Elendhaven
The world seemed spellbound in icy purity, its earthly blemishes veiled; it lay fixed in a deathlike, enchanted trance. Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain
Everyday Strange 