Pamela Todd
![]() |
Bloomsbury at Home.
7 editions
—
published
1999
—
|
|
![]() |
William Morris and the Arts and Crafts Home
by
6 editions
—
published
2005
—
|
|
![]() |
The Pre-Raphaelites at Home
3 editions
—
published
2001
—
|
|
![]() |
The Arts & Crafts Companion
8 editions
—
published
2004
—
|
|
![]() |
The Impressionists at Home
4 editions
—
published
2005
—
|
|
![]() |
Pig and the Shrink
8 editions
—
published
1999
—
|
|
![]() |
Forget-Me-Not: A Floral Treasury Sentiments and Plant Lore from the Language of Flowers
by
—
published
1993
|
|
![]() |
The Impressionists at Leisure
4 editions
—
published
2007
—
|
|
![]() |
Private Tucker's Boer War Diary
by
4 editions
—
published
1980
—
|
|
![]() |
Celebrating the Impressionist Table
by
3 editions
—
published
1997
—
|
|
“There were days so clear and skies so brilliant blue, with white clouds scudding across them like ships under full sail, and she felt she could lift right off the ground. One moment she was ambling down a path, and the next thing she knew, the wind would take hold of her, like a hand pushing against her back. Her feet would start running without her even willing it, even knowing it. And she would run faster and faster across the prairie, until her heart jumped like a rabbit and her breath came in deep gasps and her feet barely skimmed the ground.
It felt good to spend herself this way. The air tasted fresh and delicious; it smelled like damp earth, grass, and flowers. And her body felt strong, supple, and hungry for more of everything life could serve up.
She ran and felt like one of the animals, as though her feet were growing up out of the earth. And she knew what they knew, that sometimes you ran just because you could, because of the way the rush of air felt on your face and how your legs reached out, eating up longer and longer patches of ground.
She ran until the blood pounded in her ears, so loud that she couldn't hear the voices that said, You're not good enough, You're not old enough, You're not beautiful or smart or loveable, and you will always be alone.
She ran because there were ghosts chasing her, shadows that pursued her, heartaches she was leaving behind. She was running for her life, and those phantoms couldn't catch her, not here, not anywhere. She would outrun fear and sadness and worry and shame and all those losses that had lined up against her like a column of soldiers with their guns shouldered and ready to fire. If she had to, she would outrun death itself.
She would keep on running until she dropped, exhausted. Then she would roll over onto her back and breathe in the endless sky above her, sun glinting off her face.
To be an animal, to have a body like this that could taste, see hear, and fly through space, to lie down and smell the earth and feel the heat of the sun on your face was enough for her. She did not need anything else but this: just to be alive, cool air caressing her skin, dreaming of Ivy and what might be ahead.”
― The Blind Faith Hotel
It felt good to spend herself this way. The air tasted fresh and delicious; it smelled like damp earth, grass, and flowers. And her body felt strong, supple, and hungry for more of everything life could serve up.
She ran and felt like one of the animals, as though her feet were growing up out of the earth. And she knew what they knew, that sometimes you ran just because you could, because of the way the rush of air felt on your face and how your legs reached out, eating up longer and longer patches of ground.
She ran until the blood pounded in her ears, so loud that she couldn't hear the voices that said, You're not good enough, You're not old enough, You're not beautiful or smart or loveable, and you will always be alone.
She ran because there were ghosts chasing her, shadows that pursued her, heartaches she was leaving behind. She was running for her life, and those phantoms couldn't catch her, not here, not anywhere. She would outrun fear and sadness and worry and shame and all those losses that had lined up against her like a column of soldiers with their guns shouldered and ready to fire. If she had to, she would outrun death itself.
She would keep on running until she dropped, exhausted. Then she would roll over onto her back and breathe in the endless sky above her, sun glinting off her face.
To be an animal, to have a body like this that could taste, see hear, and fly through space, to lie down and smell the earth and feel the heat of the sun on your face was enough for her. She did not need anything else but this: just to be alive, cool air caressing her skin, dreaming of Ivy and what might be ahead.”
― The Blind Faith Hotel
“She looked at him and realized that she loved him, out of nowhere, pure and simple. She loved him: this boy who fit so naturally in the water, the wild, and in everything else. She loved him: this boy who seemed to grow up out of the ground itself. There was a part of her that had known this from the first time she had seen him. This was what love was: a landslide in your heart.”
― The Blind Faith Hotel
― The Blind Faith Hotel
“Boobs are like boyfriends. You go around wishing for them and trying to figure out what you have to do to get them, and worrying about all the things you're probably doing wrong, and then one day, who knows why, you wake up and find you've got more than you wanted.”
― The Blind Faith Hotel
― The Blind Faith Hotel
Topics Mentioning This Author
topics | posts | views | last activity | |
---|---|---|---|---|
Book Nook Cafe: What I read ~~ January 2013 | 63 | 75 | Feb 09, 2013 08:32PM | |
Nothing But Readi...: New 2 U Authors: 2019 | 106 | 488 | Mar 22, 2021 06:04AM |
Is this you? Let us know. If not, help out and invite Pamela to Goodreads.