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“Ash is going to kick your ass, Daemon."
Daemon's grin went up a notch. "Nah, she likes my ass too much for that.”
― Obsidian
Daemon's grin went up a notch. "Nah, she likes my ass too much for that.”
― Obsidian
“Am I glowing?"
"Like a Christmas tree."
"Not just the star?"
The bed moved a little, and I felt his hand brush my arm. "No. You're super bright. It's kind of like looking at the sun.”
― Obsidian
"Like a Christmas tree."
"Not just the star?"
The bed moved a little, and I felt his hand brush my arm. "No. You're super bright. It's kind of like looking at the sun.”
― Obsidian
“I couldn't stop staring at his mouth when he spoke. I bet he knew how to kiss. Perfect kisses too, ones that weren't wet and gross, but the kind that curled toes.
I needed to stop looking at him in general.”
― Obsidian
I needed to stop looking at him in general.”
― Obsidian
“Beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea,
And East and West the wanderlust that will not let me be;
It works in me like madness, dear, to bid me say good-by!
For the seas call and the stars call, and oh, the call of the sky!
I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are,
But man can have the sun for friend, and for his guide a star;
And there's no end of voyaging when once the voice is heard,
For the river calls and the road calls, and oh, the call of a bird!
Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and day
The old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away;
And come I may, but go I must, and if men ask you why,
You may put the blame on the stars and the sun and the white road and the sky!”
―
And East and West the wanderlust that will not let me be;
It works in me like madness, dear, to bid me say good-by!
For the seas call and the stars call, and oh, the call of the sky!
I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are,
But man can have the sun for friend, and for his guide a star;
And there's no end of voyaging when once the voice is heard,
For the river calls and the road calls, and oh, the call of a bird!
Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and day
The old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away;
And come I may, but go I must, and if men ask you why,
You may put the blame on the stars and the sun and the white road and the sky!”
―
Marina’s 2025 Year in Books
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