Daniel Rudov

“and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.”
― James Joyce, Dubliners

“We feel cold, but we don't mind it, because we will not come to harm. And if we wrapped up against the cold, we wouldn't feel other things, like the bright tingle of the stars, or the music of the aurora, or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin. It's worth being cold for that.”
― Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass

“How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.”
― John Burroughs

“Why is it that words like these seem dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?”
― James Joyce, The Dead