Through a trick lighting technique the skyline was made and faded with the care of a pointillist– maybe aiding us to think nothing was missing. We traded verbsabout what was happeningin the metropolis, realizing, in the scorched plum of dusk, actual human infinity was occurring on an island before us.... Kristen Henderson
Cities were always like people, showing their varying personalities to the traveler. Depending on the city and on the traveler, there might begin a mutual love, or dislike, friendship, or enmity. Where one city will rise a certain individual to glory, it will destroy another...
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Roman Payne
There’s something about arriving in new cities, wandering empty streets with no destination. I will never lose the love for the arriving, but I'm born to leave.
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Charlotte Eriksson
Look, girls know when they’re cute, ” he said. “You don’t have to tell them. All they need to do is look in the mirror. I have one friend out in New York, an attorney. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>She moved out there after the school year...
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Daniel Amory
One of the professors told me last week that he feels bad teaching with the way the economy is now. ‘What’s the point?’ he said. ‘Kids aren’t getting jobs.’ You never hear faculty talk that way. He did.
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Daniel Amory
Do you want to achieve something or do you just want to make money?” asked a nearby man in a white shirt to another man in a striped shirt. I waited for the answer as I slowly walked past them. “Why is it an either...
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Daniel Amory
More Quotes By Kristen Henderson
He utilizesform for a striking lecture;young poets shiverinexperience, but thaw over their own work, fertilize magic.
Who is so fancy, esoterica saves the day? Who is the Yogi, Namaste?
Once, I took the penny whistle you gave me and discovered a spotby the roaring falls where I could play as loud as I wanted. I lay in the bifurcated trunkof a low-slung birch tree. The sun peeked through applauding leaves, high overhead.
And no matter what closet we were thrown in, up what river we were sold for an embarrassment, or worse, traded for a bottle of gin--we’d carry on in playful stitches, friends‘til the end…which came sooner than wished.
I wonder what became of you, your JohnnyRotten skin, no Emerald City eyes. You'd have been a beauty if you let inferiority steam your glasses with its candor, sans laughter.
