Taylor L > Recent Status Updates

There was sky in the fireplace. There was the Pacific, the horizon, the war, the past: the pale blue of places I had dreamed of; and the dark, awesome greens of places to which I was frightened to go.

"You are my son, and this is my home," said Roz. "I will do everything in my power to return." Brightbill hugged his mother's worn face.
"I love you, Mama."
"I love you, son."

The wilderness really can be ugly sometimes. But from that ugliness came beauty. You see, those poor dead creatures returned to the earth, their bodies nourished the soil, and they helped create the most dazzling spring bloom the island had ever known.

The robot's body may have been hard and mechanical, but it was also strong and safe. The gosling felt loved. His eyes slowly winked closed. And he spent the whole night quietly sleeping in his mother's arms.

You are good human 🪨

🎶🎵

If I’m going to die, it’s going to have meaning.

I realized then, for the first time, that her dreams would always be different from mine.

With a brush, I would blur the woods. I would blur them with a murky mixture of brown and green and black, the hueless shade that I know from my dreams to be the color of pain.

He felt like the ragged ghoul staggering across the screen in an old movie, the peace he sought always out of reach.

Perhaps all you had to do was pretend something was true and then someday it would be, no matter how fantastic, no matter how fucked up.

By the time the sun came up the next morning, it seemed as if all the shame and fear I’d ever carried inside of me was burned away like a pile of dead leaves.

He looked happy, and I hated him instantly.

"I love you," she whispered, "only you; no one but you. It was you who awoke me last summer out of a life-long, stupid dream.
Now you are here we shall love each other, my Robert. We shall be everything to each other. Nothing else in the world is of any consequence.”

There was with her a feeling of having descended in the social scale, with a corresponding sense of having risen in the spiritual. Every step which she took toward relieving herself from obligations added to her strength and expansion as an individual. She began to look with her own eyes; to see and to apprehend the deeper undercurrents of life.

She resolved never again to belong to another than herself.

It was his being, his existence, which dominated her thought, fading sometimes as if it would melt into the mist of the forgotten, reviving again with an intensity which filled her with an incomprehensible longing.

No multitude of words could’ve been more significant than those moments of silence, or more pregnant with the first-felt throbbings of desire.

She turned her face seaward to gather in an impression of space and solitude, which the vast expanse of water, meeting and melting with the moonlit sky, conveyed to her excited fancy. As she swam she seemed to be reaching out for the unlimited in which to lose herself.

Who can tell what metals the gods use in forging the subtle bond which we call sympathy, which we might as well call love.

An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day.