bellavigg

“At first glance, writing may seem not nearly so much an art of the body as, say, dancing or gardening or carpentry. And yet language is the most intimately physical of all the artistic means. We have it palpably in our mouths...Writing it, we shape it with our hands. Reading aloud what we have written—as we must do, if we are writing carefully—our language passes in at the eyes, out at the mouth, in at the ears; the words are immersed and steeped in the senses of the body before they make sense in the mind. They cannot make sense in the mind until they have made sense in the body. Does shaping one's words with one's own hand impart character and quality to them, as does speaking them with one's own tongue to the satisfaction of one's own ear? There is no way to prove that it does. On the other hand, there is no way to prove that it does not, and I believe that it does.”
― Wendell Berry, Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer

“So you can take a shadow,' said Will, 'you can pledge yourself to darkness, but I can't be trusted with my own power, even when I want to use it to do what's right?”
― C.S. Pacat, Dark Heir

“That night in my sister’s bed I stared at the ceiling and felt the true loss of our father. Not his money or his house, but the man I sat next to in the car. He had protected me from the world so completely that I had no idea what the world was capable of. I had never thought about him as a child. I had never asked him about the war. I had only seen him as my father, and as my father I had judged him. There was nothing to do about that now but add it to the catalog of my mistakes.”
― Ann Patchett, The Dutch House

“I always thought you were going to kill me," I say.
"Me too," he says. "I tried not to think about it."
I wind my fingers in his hair. It's thicker than mine, and curlier, and it shines golden in the firelight. There's a mole on his cheek that I've wanted to kiss since I was 12. I do.
"For a long time," I say.
"Hmmm?" He opens one eye.
"I've wanted to do this for a long time. Almost since we met..."
Snow closes his eyes again and smiles like he's trying not to.
I smile, too, only because he isn't watching. "I thought it was going to kill me.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Carry On