ââ„¢« Climbed that roost, alighted right there. Made mush of his head for the onlooker bears. A two-pronger her prize, a meat most rare. Do-gooders will pay. Do-gooders will fear. ââ„¢«
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover,...
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William Shakespeare
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...
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Patrick Rothfuss
Do you think we can be friends?” I asked. He stared up at the ceiling. “Probably not, but we can pretend.
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Priya Ardis
Vane grabbed me. “DuLac, let’s chat.” British-speak for “Stand still while I yell at you.
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Priya Ardis
Who are you? Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies? Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them? I have. I am fucking crazy. But I am free.
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Lana Del Rey
More Quotes By Darrell Drake
Battle is gruesome, but it is vigorous, alive. The aftermath is the worst of it: adrenaline fades, quiet sweeps in, and there’s nothing to distract you from the mess of bodies and disturbed earth.
Ashtadukht slumped and let thenightingale’s song flood her brain. She knew that empty tone, that defeatedoutlook; she knew it intimately. Even now, it burned in her as limply as asnuffed flame. Passion burned with unchecked verve, devoured its fuel, andsputtered out. Despair required no upkeep;...
You aren’t falling apart. You’re well beyond that. You’re just rattling along now. Elven dolls doing what little you can to gather the pieces as they fall away. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>But you don’t know how to properly reattach them–a doll does not repair itself. So...
If the years have taught me one thing it's that those who care are always scarce. Those who genuinely care; not the acquaintances, false friends or those with similar aspirations. The few who seek your company, the souls who would plainly step off the world...
She did not belong to the healthy group of widows and widowers who, after mourning, would nurture the seed of their grief into growing from loss–perhaps continuing the dreams of the lost, or learning to cherish alone the things they’d cherished together. She belonged instead...
