Kay

“Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal; it strengthens, tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it.”
― Eliza Tabor

“Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,—
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain. ”
― Ella Wheeler Wilcox

“Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don't stop to think, don't interrupt the scream, exhale, release life's rapture.”
― Vladimir Nabokov

“Do you know what the best thing about getting my sight back will be?” he asked softly.
“No,” she replied, all of the bravado gone from her voice.
Straightening, he took one step toward her, then another. She refused to give ground until he was almost
on top of her. Feeling the air shift as she retreated, he clumsily flanked her until their positions were
reversed and she was the one backing toward the door. “Some might believe it would be the joy of
watching the sun dip below a lavender horizon at the end of a perfect summer day.”
When he heard her back come up against the door, he splayed one palm against the thick mahogany
behind her. “Others might judge it to be perusing the velvety petals of a ruby red rose…”—leaning
forward until he felt the warm tickle of her breath against his face, he deepened his voice to a smoky
caress—“or gazing tenderly into the eyes of a beautiful woman. But I can promise you, Miss Wickersham, that all of those pleasures will pale in comparison to the sheer unmitigated joy of being rid
of you.”
― Teresa Medeiros, Yours Until Dawn