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“It is a dull sensation, your heart breaking, like the sound of a pebble dropping on the sand. Not a shattering, not a tearing apart, there is nothing shrill or grandiose about the sensation. It is merely an internal realization that something treasured you never knew you had is leaving forever.”
― The Art of Devotion
― The Art of Devotion
“I have lived the life I longed for in my heart. And it is beautiful there.”
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
“Sometimes we are written down in books. Or, someone tells a story in which our name figures. And so we live on, through someone else’s voice…
These are the indelible marks others make of us, like the watermarks of high tides, names carved into barks, or stamps branded onto belongings. For what else is history but the collected voices of others, who sing a chorus of what once was. It is not words but voices that are the inscriptions seared onto pages, into minds, of the fragments others glean, as we live our lives in passing.
Flitting and fl eeting, we rub off as we move through, and in our wake is cast the dust of the stars that we become. And sometimes it is caught on the fingers of others, and they press that gold to their lips, where it glistens, an eternal testimony to the fact that they adored us: So we, those of us who
remember, we grow more golden as we age, as if cast into statues that commemorate the splendor of those who loved us, and those we were privileged
to love.”
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
These are the indelible marks others make of us, like the watermarks of high tides, names carved into barks, or stamps branded onto belongings. For what else is history but the collected voices of others, who sing a chorus of what once was. It is not words but voices that are the inscriptions seared onto pages, into minds, of the fragments others glean, as we live our lives in passing.
Flitting and fl eeting, we rub off as we move through, and in our wake is cast the dust of the stars that we become. And sometimes it is caught on the fingers of others, and they press that gold to their lips, where it glistens, an eternal testimony to the fact that they adored us: So we, those of us who
remember, we grow more golden as we age, as if cast into statues that commemorate the splendor of those who loved us, and those we were privileged
to love.”
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
“Meet me on the road that leads to the sea and I'll wait for you and you'll wait for me.”
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
“There it was, happiness in a backward glance: happiness and the certainty of hope.”
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
“The dead are the stars by which we navigate.”
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
“We are only as good as we are remembered.”
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
― The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
