Son Orlowsky

“skeptical,”
― Walter Farley, The Black Stallion

“There's nothing really quite like that first soft spring breeze of intoxication. Keep drinking all you want, but you will never get it back.”
― Michael Pollan, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation

“She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“When the air gets heavy so it's hard to breathe, you know what's coming. The birds come down from the ridges and hide in the hollows and in the pines. Heavy black clouds float over the mountain, and you run for the cabin.

From the cabin porch we would watch the big bars of light that stand for a full second, maybe two, on the mountaintop, running out feelers or lightning wire in all directions before they're jerked back into the sky. Cracking claps of sound, so sharp you know something has split wide open--then the thunder rolls and rumbles over the ridges and back through the hollows. I was pretty near sure, a time or two, that the mountains was falling down, but Granpa said they wasn't. Which of course, they didn't.

Then it comes again--and rolls blue fireballs of rocks on the ridge tops and splatters the blue in the air. The trees whip and bend in the sudden rushes of wind, and the sweep of heavy rain comes thunking from the clouds in big drops, letting you know there's some real frog-strangling sheets of water coming close behind.”
― Forrest Carter, The Education of Little Tree