Muse of the Week
And in the spring I shed my skin, and it blows away with the changing winds” -“Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up),”Florence + the Machine
All posts tagged: quote
My Candles are Electric
my candles are electricthey light on my commandmy candles are electricthey’ll never burn your handmy candles are electricthe static symmetry a little blandbut, my candles are electricand they light on my command
Muse of the Day
There was a sky somewhere above the tops of the buildings, with stars and a moon and all the things there are in a sky, but they were content to think of the distant street lights as planets and stars. If the lights prevented you from seeing the heavens, then preform a little magic and change reality to fit the need. The street lights were now planets and stars and moon. Hubert Selby Jr., Requiem for a Dream
Muse of the Day
It was a wonderful night, such a night as is only possible when we are young, dear reader. Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights
Muse of the Day
The wind is made of haunting souls that moan and groan in whistles and whispers. This ghostly choir chills the breeze and orchestrates a rise of goose bumps on my skin. Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons
Muse of the Day
There are very few friends that will lie down with you on empty streets in the middle of the night, without a word. No questions, no asking why, just quietly lay there with you, observing the stars, until you’re ready to get back up on your feet again and walk the last bit home, softly holding your hand as a quiet way of saying “I’m here”.It was a beautiful night. Charlotte Eriksson, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: in search for The Great Perhaps
Muse of the Day
I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty. Edgar Allan Poe, The Poetic Principle
Muse of the Day
It was a quietness that left the dammed singing.The dead can’t sing, it’s just a deception.Through a breeze, they murmur their tune.Is the breeze in the cemetery truly dead individuals singing?Chilly, blusterous shouts of shallow woes, it’s indeed them singing. Dead Can Sing Poem by D.L. Lewis
Muse of the Day
But I wasn’t mad or happy. And as I lay in bed trying to read, I realized that upset had been overshadowed by uneasy. I felt as though someone was watching me. I got so spooked I even got up to check out the window and in the closet and under the bed, but the feeling still didn’t go away. It took me nearly until midnight to understand what it was. It was me. Watching me. Wendelin Van Draanen, Flipped
Muse of the Day
A skull stared back at Sera, gaping dark holes reflecting the starlight above her. It was oddly beautiful in a way. The brain and face rotted away, and all that was left were the stars. Avery Carter, The Ghost and the Real Girl
Everyday Strange 