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“You know those days when you get the mean reds?"
"Same as the blues?"
"No," she said slowly. "No, the blues are because you're getting fat or maybe it's been raining too long. You're sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of...”
―
"Same as the blues?"
"No," she said slowly. "No, the blues are because you're getting fat or maybe it's been raining too long. You're sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of...”
―
“So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.”
― Looking for Alaska
― Looking for Alaska
“Whether it be in the sun, the rain, or the snow,
You should always have fun, wherever you go.
Think of all the amusing things you can do,
To bring much laughter and happiness too.”
― The ABC Field Guide to Faeries
You should always have fun, wherever you go.
Think of all the amusing things you can do,
To bring much laughter and happiness too.”
― The ABC Field Guide to Faeries
“There is no dishonour in losing the race," Don said. "There is only dishonour in not racing because you are afraid to lose.”
― The Art of Racing in the Rain
― The Art of Racing in the Rain
“Why Roses Crave Thorns"
Petals detach from a wilting bud—a single stem plucked before fully blossomed. They descend in hesitant swirls, too soft and limp to shatter like teardrops. One by one they light to blanket a single shadow below.
She is a rose, young and innocent, with beauty incomparable to shame all others. She has flowered enough to stop the observer in his tracks, awestruck. He is compelled to reach out and touch. The petals delight at a silken caress, her bud everything desirable but defenseless—without a sharp edge to make an admirer pause, to warn the intrusive hand. ‘Stay back! Stay back!’
His fingers curl around the stem to tug, and suddenly the rose craves a thorn.
It is madness not to want her and yet madness to cut her down. Let the flower thrive and blush to someday flaunt layers of silken favors! But the world will not have it. A single stem is severed in a selfish moment of desire—a yearning to hold and possess.
Alone and forgotten her petals cry, raining in hesitant swirls where they accumulate to blanket her shadow below. Dry, withered, craving the thorns. Beautiful no more.”
― Smile Anyway: Quotes, Verse, & Grumblings for Every Day of the Year
Petals detach from a wilting bud—a single stem plucked before fully blossomed. They descend in hesitant swirls, too soft and limp to shatter like teardrops. One by one they light to blanket a single shadow below.
She is a rose, young and innocent, with beauty incomparable to shame all others. She has flowered enough to stop the observer in his tracks, awestruck. He is compelled to reach out and touch. The petals delight at a silken caress, her bud everything desirable but defenseless—without a sharp edge to make an admirer pause, to warn the intrusive hand. ‘Stay back! Stay back!’
His fingers curl around the stem to tug, and suddenly the rose craves a thorn.
It is madness not to want her and yet madness to cut her down. Let the flower thrive and blush to someday flaunt layers of silken favors! But the world will not have it. A single stem is severed in a selfish moment of desire—a yearning to hold and possess.
Alone and forgotten her petals cry, raining in hesitant swirls where they accumulate to blanket her shadow below. Dry, withered, craving the thorns. Beautiful no more.”
― Smile Anyway: Quotes, Verse, & Grumblings for Every Day of the Year
Kris’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Kris’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
0 books
|
17 friends
3 books
|
4 friends
1 book
|
11 friends
26 books
|
14 friends
1 book
|
22 friends
6 books
|
3 friends
1 book
|
7 friends
2 books
|
31 friends
More friends…
Favorite Genres
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