Dove Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Dove. Here they are! All 200 of them:

When we are young, the words are scattered all around us. As they are assembled by experience, so also are we, sentence by sentence, until the story takes shape.
Louise Erdrich (The Plague of Doves)
People want you to be happy. Don't keep serving them your pain! If you could untie your wings and free your soul of jealousy, you and everyone around you would fly up like doves.
Rumi
O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seemest - A dammed saint, an honourable villain!
William Shakespeare (Romeo and Juliet)
Abs? What are you, a workout video?" he sneered. "Pigeon?" I said with the same amount of disdain. "An annoying bird that craps all over the sidewalk?" "You like Pigeon," he said defensively. "It's a dove, an attractive girl, a winning card in poker, take your pick. You're my Pigeon.
Jamie McGuire (Beautiful Disaster (Beautiful, #1))
And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn’t crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I’ve never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands? He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.
Ray Bradbury (Fahrenheit 451)
It was rather beautiful: the way he put her insecurities to sleep. The way he dove into her eyes and starved all the fears and tasted all the dreams she kept coiled beneath her bones.
Christopher Poindexter
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love
Leonard Cohen
Two turtle doves will show thee Where my cold ashes lie And sadly murmuring tell thee How in tears I did die
Nikolai Gogol
I decided a long time ago I would feed on the vultures until a dove came along. A pigeon. The kind of soul that didn't impede on anyone; just walked around worrying about its own business, trying to get through life without pulling everyone else down. With its own needs and selfish habits. Brave. A communicator. Intelligent. Beautiful. Soft-spoken. A creature that mates for life. Unattainable until she has a reason to trust you.
Jamie McGuire (Walking Disaster (Beautiful, #2))
After the sharp-eyed jay and the roaring lion, peace will come on dove's gentle wing.
Erin Hunter
I loved her. Despite everything. Despite the lies, the betrayal, the hurt. Despite the Archbishop and Morgane le Blanc. Despite my own brothers. I don't know if she returned that love, and I didn't care. If she was destined to burn in Hell, I would burn with her.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
If you want one thing too much it’s likely to be a disappointment. The healthy way is to learn to like the everyday things, like soft beds and buttermilk—and feisty gentlemen.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
I was no one's sacrifice. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
It ain’t dying I’m talking about, it’s living. I doubt it matters where you die, but it matters where you live.” ~spoken by Augustus McCrae
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove)
There are some things that can't be changed with words. Some things have to be seen. They have to be felt.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Child of lightning, beware the earth, The giants' revenge the seven shall birth, The forge and the dove shall break the cage, And death unleash through Hera's rage.
Rick Riordan (The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus, #1))
Funeral Blues Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead, Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W.H. Auden (Another Time)
Why the fuck is everyone in this kingdom trying to murder my wife?
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Love makes fools of us all, darling.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
I walk through the seasons and always the birds are singing and screaming and keening for love When you're with me it seems so absurd that I should be jealous of the jay and the dove.
Maggie Stiefvater (Linger (The Wolves of Mercy Falls, #2))
Remember when I moved in you and the holy dove was moving too, and every breath we drew was, "Hallelujah.
Leonard Cohen
It is because I dove into the abyss that I am beginning to love the abyss I am made of.
Clarice Lispector
Sean reaches between us and slides a thin bracelet of red ribbons over my free hand. Lifting my arm, he presses his lips against the inside of my wrist. I'm utterly still; I feel my pulse tap several times against his lips, and then he releases my hand. "For luck," he says. He takes Dove's lead from me. "Sean," I say, and he turns. I take his chin and kiss his lips, hard. I'm reminded, all of a sudden, of that first day on the beach, when I pulled his head from the water. "For luck," I say to his startled face.
Maggie Stiefvater (The Scorpio Races)
Our lives reflect our hearts.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Death couldn't take him away from me. He was me. Our souls were bound.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Man is the Reasoning Animal. Such is the claim. I think it is open to dispute. Indeed, my experiments have proven to me that he is the Unreasoning Animal... In truth, man is incurably foolish. Simple things which other animals easily learn, he is incapable of learning. Among my experiments was this. In an hour I taught a cat and a dog to be friends. I put them in a cage. In another hour I taught them to be friends with a rabbit. In the course of two days I was able to add a fox, a goose, a squirrel and some doves. Finally a monkey. They lived together in peace; even affectionately. Next, in another cage I confined an Irish Catholic from Tipperary, and as soon as he seemed tame I added a Scotch Presbyterian from Aberdeen. Next a Turk from Constantinople; a Greek Christian from Crete; an Armenian; a Methodist from the wilds of Arkansas; a Buddhist from China; a Brahman from Benares. Finally, a Salvation Army Colonel from Wapping. Then I stayed away for two whole days. When I came back to note results, the cage of Higher Animals was all right, but in the other there was but a chaos of gory odds and ends of turbans and fezzes and plaids and bones and flesh--not a specimen left alive. These Reasoning Animals had disagreed on a theological detail and carried the matter to a Higher Court.
Mark Twain (Letters from the Earth: Uncensored Writings)
When angels visit us, we do not hear the rustle of wings, nor feel the feathery touch of the breast of a dove; but we know their presence by the love they create in our hearts.
Mary Baker Eddy (Poems by Mary Baker Eddy)
Maybe men can learn a thing or two from women.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from you.’” He trailed his fingers down my arm in slow, torturous strokes. My head fell back on his shoulder, my eyes fluttering closed, as his lips continued to move against my neck. “‘Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Harmless as a setting dove," he agreed. "I'm too hungry to be a threat to anything but breakfast. Let a stray bannock come within reach, though, and I'll no answer for the consequences.
Diana Gabaldon
Where everyone else sees a straight line, you see a maze, and when I'm done talking to you, the maze starts to make more sense --Reply by Dove to Aly's silent inquiry
Tamora Pierce
Yesterday's gone on down the river and you can't get it back.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
A Robin Redbreast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. A dove house fill’d with doves and pigeons Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions. A Dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A Horse misus’d upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human blood. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fiber from the Brain does tear.
William Blake
The older the violin, the sweeter the music.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
When we went into the ocean, I watched his body as he dove into the waves, and it gave me a feeling in my stomach that wasn't an ache but something different.
Nicole Krauss (The History of Love)
The dove descending breaks the air With flame of incandescent terror Of which the tongues declare The one discharge from sin and error. The only hope, or else despair Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre- To be redeemed from fire by fire. Who then devised the torment? Love. Love is the unfamiliar Name Behind the hands that wove The intolerable shirt of flame Which human power cannot remove. We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire.
T.S. Eliot (Four Quartets)
I leaned back, studying her as she finished my bun. A bit of icing covered her lip. Her nose was still red from the cold, her hair wild and windblown. My little heathen.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
At forty-two, I had never done anything that took my own breath away, and I suppose now that was part of the problem--my chronic inability to astonish myself. I promise you, no one judges me more harshly than I do myself; I caused a brilliant wreckage. Some say I fell from grace; they're being kind. I didn't fall. I dove.
Sue Monk Kidd (The Mermaid Chair)
What you are now is not what you’ve always been, nor is it what you always will be. You are a snake. Shed your skin if it no longer serves you. Transform into something different. Something better.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage. A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons Shudders hell through all its regions.
William Blake (Auguries of Innocence)
I like you, Ansel, but this had better be something good. Emilie and Alexandre just had a moment, and I swear if they don't kiss soon, I will literally die.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Tell me what to wish for." Tell me what to ask the sea for." "To be happy. Happiness." "I don't think such a thing is had on Thisby. And if it is, I don't know how you would keep it." "You whisper to it. What it needs to hear. Isn't that what you said?" "That's what I said. What do I need to hear?" "That tomorrow we'll rule the Scorpio Races as king and queen of Skarmouth and I'll save the house and you'll have your stallion. Dove will eat golden oats for the rest of her days and you will terrorize the races each year and people will come from every island in the world to find out how it is you get horses to listen to you. The piebald will carry Mutt Malvern into the sea and Gabriel will decide to stay on the island. I will have a farm and you will bring me bread for dinner." "That's what I needed to hear.
Maggie Stiefvater (The Scorpio Races)
I knew the legends of the birds. Seagulls were the souls of dead soldiers. Owls were the souls of women. Doves were the recently departed souls of unmarried girls. Was there a bird for the souls of people like me?
Ruta Sepetys (Salt to the Sea)
I'm sure partial to the evening,' Augustus said. 'The evening and the morning. If we just didn't have to have the rest of the dern day I'd be a lot happier.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
It’s a dove, an attractive girl, a winning card in poker, take your pick. You’re my Pigeon.
Jamie McGuire (Beautiful Disaster (Beautiful, #1))
I did what any reasonable adult woman would do when confronted with her college rival turned next-door neighbor. I dove behind the nearest bookshelf.
Emily Henry (Beach Read)
I saw doves and I thought they were rocks, but they were asleep. My breath made them stir, and they rocks took flight, the earth exploding... and my only thought was that I wanted you to see them, too.
Douglas Coupland (Microserfs)
Wicked are the ways of women—and especially a witch. Their guile knows no bounds.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
It's a fine world, though rich in hardships at times.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
The world of literature has everything in it, and it refuses to leave anything out. I have read like a man on fire my whole life because the genius of English teachers touched me with the dazzling beauty of language. Because of them I rode with Don Quixote and danced with Anna Karenina at a ball in St. Petersburg and lassoed a steer in "Lonesome Dove" and had nightmares about slavery in "Beloved" and walked the streets of Dublin in "Ulysses" and made up a hundred stories in the Arabian nights and saw my mother killed by a baseball in "A Prayer for Owen Meany." I've been in ten thousand cities and have introduced myself to a hundred thousand strangers in my exuberant reading career, all because I listened to my fabulous English teachers and soaked up every single thing those magnificent men and women had to give. I cherish and praise them and thank them for finding me when I was a boy and presenting me with the precious gift of the English language.
Pat Conroy
He raised his hand in a peaceful gesture. "You need to relax a bit, dove. Like Mouse over there. You trust me, don't you, Mouse?" "Nope!" "Ahhh, I'm hurt. Nobody likes me.
Ilona Andrews (Magic Burns (Kate Daniels, #2))
I promise you, no one judges me more harshly than I do myself; I caused a brilliant wreckage. Some say I fell from grace; they’re being kind. I didn’t fall – I dove.
Sue Monk Kidd (The Mermaid Chair)
Such a love was not something of just the heart and mind. It wasn't something to be felt and eventually forgotten, to be touched without it in return touching you. No . . . this love was something else. Something irrevocable. It was something of the soul.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
The night above. We two. Full moon. I started to weep, you laughed. Your scorn was a god, my laments moments and doves in a chain. The night below. We two. Crystal of pain. You wept over great distances. My ache was a clutch of agonies over your sickly heart of sand. Dawn married us on the bed, our mouths to the frozen spout of unstaunched blood. The sun came through the shuttered balcony and the coral of life opened its branches over my shrouded heart. - Night of Sleepless Love
Federico García Lorca
I never said it was your god. Your god hates women. We were an afterthought.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
It's the hour when night breaks away from the day, my dove, let me go.
Jean Genet (The Balcony)
What happens when you let an unsatisfactory present go on long enough? It becomes your entire history.
Louise Erdrich (The Plague of Doves)
'Shoot the wounded... what we do to people who are the most vulnerable... we 'shoot the wounded.' As if they haven't suffered enough, we add to it by gossiping and treating hurt people like outcasts." ..."I think we killed Ronnie's spirit... Instead of coming alongside her and supporting her through this, I failed her...
Lynn Dove (Shoot the Wounded (Wounded, #1))
Do you know when they say soul-mates? Everybody uses it in personal ads. "Soul-mate wanted". It doesn't mean too much now. But soul mates- think about it. When your soul-whatever that is anyway-something so alive when you make music or love and so mysteriously hidden most of the rest of the time, so colorful and big but without color or shape-when your soul finds another soul it can recognize even before the rest of you knows about it. The rest of you just feels sweaty and jumpy at first. And your souls get married without even meaning to-even if you can't be together for some reason in real life, your souls just go ahead and make the wedding plans. A soul's wedding must be too beautiful to even look at. It must be blinding. In must be like all the weddings in the world-gondolas with canopies of doves, champagne glasses shattering, wings of veils, drums beating, flutes and trumpets,showers of roses. And after that happens-that's it, this is it. But sometimes you have to let that person go. When you are little, people , movie and fairy tales all tell you that one day you're going to meet this person. So you keep waiting and it's a lot harder than they make it sound. Then you meet and you think, okay, now we can just get on with it but you find out that sometimes your sould brother partner lover has other ideas about that.
Francesca Lia Block (Dangerous Angels (Weetzie Bat, #1-5))
So, Angel?" I said, looking over at her. She was gliding through the night, her eight-foot wings looking like a dove's. "Have you picked up anything from Anne, about anything? Anything off?" Not really." Angel thought. "From what I can tell, she does work for the FBI. She does care about us and wants us to be happy. She thinks the boys are slobs. I'm blind," Iggy said irritably. "How am I supposed to make everything all tidy?" Yeah, because you're so handicapped," I said sarcastically. "Like- you can't build bombs or cook or win at Monopoly. You can't tell us apart by the feel of our skin or feathers.
James Patterson (School's Out—Forever (Maximum Ride, #2))
It's like I told you last night son. The earth is mostly just a boneyard. But pretty in the sunlight, he added
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
It’s bad to be a dragon.” “Says who? Nothing wrong with a little bit of viciousness. Would you rather be a dove or a dragon?
Roshani Chokshi (The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen, #1))
Un malheur ne vient jamais seul. Misfortune never arrives alone. —French proverb
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
when a person brings you more hurt than happiness, you’re allowed to let them go.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
The hardest thing on earth is choosing what matters
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Live through it," Call said. "That's all we can do.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Idiocy is oft mistaken for sentimentality.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Words Be careful of words, even the miraculous ones. For the miraculous we do our best, sometimes they swarm like insects and leave not a sting but a kiss. They can be as good as fingers. They can be as trusty as the rock you stick your bottom on. But they can be both daisies and bruises. Yet I am in love with words. They are doves falling out of the ceiling. They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap. They are the trees, the legs of summer, and the sun, its passionate face. Yet often they fail me. I have so much I want to say, so many stories, images, proverbs, etc. But the words aren't good enough, the wrong ones kiss me. Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren. But I try to take care and be gentle to them. Words and eggs must be handled with care. Once broken they are impossible things to repair.
Anne Sexton (The Complete Poems)
I Like For You To Be Still I like for you to be still It is as though you are absent And you hear me from far away And my voice does not touch you It seems as though your eyes had flown away And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth As all things are filled with my soul You emerge from the things Filled with my soul You are like my soul A butterfly of dream And you are like the word: Melancholy I like for you to be still And you seem far away It sounds as though you are lamenting A butterfly cooing like a dove And you hear me from far away And my voice does not reach you Let me come to be still in your silence And let me talk to you with your silence That is bright as a lamp Simple, as a ring You are like the night With its stillness and constellations Your silence is that of a star As remote and candid I like for you to be still It is as though you are absent Distant and full of sorrow So you would've died One word then, One smile is enough And I'm happy; Happy that it's not true
Pablo Neruda
I-I've never seen anyone savor anything the way you do everything. You make me feel alive. Just being in your presence - it's addictive. You're addictive. It doesn't matter you're a witch. The way you see the world . . . I want to see it that way too. I want to be with you always, Lou. I never want to be parted from you again.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
I think its a sickness to grieve too much for those who never cared a fig for you.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
The baby dove into the room, transforming grotesquely as it landed on the floorin a deft sumersault
Brandon Mull (Fablehaven (Fablehaven, #1))
The hallway led me to the stairway of a million steps. My leg screamed in protest. I sighed and started climbing. I just had to keep from limping. Limping showed weakness, and I didn’t need any enterprising, career-motivated shapeshifters trying to challenge me for dominance right about now. I had once mentioned my desire for an elevator, and His Majesty asked me if I would like a flock of doves to carry me up to my quarters so my feet wouldn’t have to touch the ground. We were sparring at the time and I kicked him in the kidney in retaliation.
Ilona Andrews (Magic Slays (Kate Daniels, #5))
Heartache often drives us to consume things we wouldn't otherwise, such as an entire pint of Caramel Pecan Perfection high-fat ice cream, covered in ganache, the crack cocaine of frozed dairy. Twelve hundred calories per pint, six hundred and eighty of which are fat calories, but is only dulls the pain for the moment, there's that carb fog while you're standing at the sink shoving it in your face, and then it's over and you feel...used. Like a cheap pickup the Dove people seduced and abandoned in your kitchen, leaving you with sticky hands and an empty cup and a still-broken heart, except now you're mad at Dove, too.
Jennifer Crusie
The light dove, in free flight cutting through the air the resistance of which it feels, could get the idea that it could do even better in airless space. Likewise, Plato abandoned the world of the senses because it posed so many hindrances for the understanding, and dared to go beyond it on the wings of the ideas, in the empty space of pure understanding.
Immanuel Kant (Critique of Pure Reason)
The magician seemed to promise that something torn to bits might be mended without a seam, that what had vanished might reappear, that a scattered handful of doves or dust might be reunited by a word, that a paper rose consumed by fire could be made to bloom from a pile of ash. But everyone knew that it was only an illusion. The true magic of this broken world lay in the ability of things it contained to vanish, to become so thoroughly lost, that they might never have existed in the first place.
Michael Chabon (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay)
And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotuslands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven. I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn't in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds. I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn't remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it. I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of the wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water. I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled. I thought I was going to die the very next moment. But I didn't die...
Jack Kerouac (On the Road)
That is love, to give away everything, to sacrifice everything, without the slightest desire to get anything in return. —Albert Camus
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
I dove on those papers like Sherlock Holmes on a cappuccino binge.
Jordan Sonnenblick (Drums, Girls & Dangerous Pie)
The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be changed: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
William Shakespeare (A Midsummer Night's Dream)
Death couldn’t take him away from me. He was me. Our souls were bound. Even if he didn’t want me, even if I cursed his name, we were one.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Ask me no questions, mon amour , and I shall tell you no lies.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
If I had a mind to rent pigs, I'd be mighty upset. A man that likes to rent pigs won't be stopped.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Upon arriving at the murder scene, they saw Deputy Sheriff Peewee Stubblefield pacing back and forth on the front walk. He stopped and smirked as Sheriff Roosevelt Baker braked the patrol car. He emitted a noise sounding more like a groan than a sigh.
Lea Charles (Easy Peasy: An Appalachian Town Diner Cozy Mystery (Ginny Dove Cozy Mystery, Series Book 2))
There was only one way such a story could end -a stake and a match.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
The world didn’t end in a scream. It ended in a gasp. A single, startled exhalation. And then— Nothing. Nothing but silence.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
His lashes, fluttered like butterfly wings. "I could've made you happy, dove." "You did," I whispered
Ann Aguirre (Horde (Razorland, #3))
I'm glad I've been wrong enough to keep in practice. . . You can't avoid it, you've got to learn to handle it. If you only come face to face with your own mistakes once or twice in your life it's bound to be extra painful. I face mine every day--that way they ain't usually much worse than a dry shave.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
My main skills are talking and cooking biscuits,' Augustus said. 'And getting drunk on the porch.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Maybe someone will know I didn't weave crowns to draw blood; that I faught against mockery; that I did fill the high tide of my soul with truth. I repaid vileness with doves.
Pablo Neruda
I've been thinking," he said finally. "A dangerous pastime.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
A dove has great beauty, but is easily broken.
Kristen Ashley (Broken Dove (Fantasyland, #4))
How mighty you are', he whispered quietly. 'I am grateful that our roles are not switched, for I would have dove headfirst into the Huangpu should I be left in this world without you.
Chloe Gong (Our Violent Ends (These Violent Delights, #2))
Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. Yet love me--wilt thou? Open thine heart wide, And fold within, the wet wings of thy dove.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Sonnets from the Portuguese)
Each time Stalker called you 'dove', I wanted to hit him. Because you're not a little gray bird... you're all the light in the world.
Ann Aguirre (Horde (Razorland, #3))
Hope isn’t the sickness. It’s the cure.
Shelby Mahurin (Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove, #3))
Man's hope can paint a purple picture, can transform a soaring vulture into a noble eagle or moaning dove.
Ralph Ellison (Invisible Man)
Black doves and white crows flew to her, for she was mother to the outcasts.
Samantha Shannon (The Priory of the Orange Tree (The Roots of Chaos, #1))
When I was young, I asked my priest how to get to heaven and still protect yourself from all the evil in the world. He told me what God told His children;'You are sheep among wolves, be wise as the serpent, yet innocent as doves.
Dennis Lehane (Gone, Baby, Gone (Kenzie & Gennaro, #4))
I never met a soul in this world as normal as me.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
I hate rude behavior in a man,' he explained in his quiet, unassuming drawl. 'I won't tolerate it.' He politely tipped his hat, and rode away.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Ran into the wrong end of a knife.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
I don’t even get the term, “the birds and the bees”.  How does that properly teach a kid about sex?  You never see a pigeon railing a dove or a honey bee sticking it to a bumble bee.
Tara Sivec (Futures and Frosting (Chocolate Lovers, #2))
You're to be my wife." Catching up to her in two strides, I reached out to grab her arm, but stopped short of touching her. "That means you'll obey me." "Does it?" She raised her brows, still grinning. " I suppose that means you'll honor and protect me, then? If we're adhering to the dusty old roles of your patriarchy?" I shortened my pace to match hers. "Yes." She clapped her hands together. "Excellent. At least this will be entertaining. I have many enemies.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
He had known several men who blew their heads off, and he had pondered it much. It seemed to him it was probably because they could not take enough happiness just from the sky and the moon to carry them over the low feelings that came to all men.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
When cornered, desperate, or isolated, man reverts to those instincts that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump cards because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes. It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.
Delia Owens (Where the Crawdads Sing)
If you can't be free, be a mystery.
Rita Dove
If there was a God, he or she had a shit sense of humor.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Hello, Chass.” Blood roared in my ears. “Hello, wife.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
She was burning, Reid. I don't know how, but she took away that witch's pain. She gave it to herself.” He exhaled heavily. “That's why I didn't tell you. Because even though I knew Lou was a witch, I knew she wasn't evil. She burned at the stake once. She doesn't deserve to do it twice.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
From him to the stars, in all directions, there was only silence and emptiness.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Anyway, whacking a surly bartender ain't much of a crime.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Life with you was lovely—and when I say lovely, I mean doves and lilies, and velvet, and that soft pink ‘v’ in the middle and the way your tongue curved up to the long, lingering ‘l.’ Our life together was alliterative, and when I think of all the little things which will die, now that we cannot share them, I feel as if we were dead too.
Vladimir Nabokov
Piper went a little crazy. She cried out with relief and dove straight into the water. What was she thinking? She didn't take a rope or a life vest or anything. But at the moment, she was just so happy that she paddled over to Leo and kissed him on the cheek, which kind of surprised him. "Miss me?" Leo laughed. Piper was suddenly furious. "Where were you? How are you guys alive?" "Long story," he said. A picnic basket bobbed to the surface next to him. "Want a brownie?
Rick Riordan (The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus, #3))
Cosette was not very timid by nature. There flowed in her veins some of the blood of the bohemian and the adventuress who runs barefoot. It will be remembered that she was more of a lark than a dove. There was a foundation of wildness and bravery in her
Victor Hugo (Les Misérables)
Sometimes it hurts to remember the dead as who they were, rather than who we wanted them to be.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
Old love, middle love, the kind of love that knows itself and knows that nothing lasts, is a desperate shared wildness.
Louise Erdrich (The Plague of Doves)
Nobody run off with her,” Roscoe said. "She just run off with herself, I guess.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
I’d lied when I’d said I’d made my choice. In truth, there’d been no choice at all. There never had been. I loved her. And if I had to run, hide, and fight for that love, I would. For the rest of my life, I would.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
Every aspect of Reid was precise, certain, every color in its proper place. Undiluted by indecision, he saw the world in black and white, suffering none of the messy, charcoal colors in between. The colors of ash and smoke. Of fear and doubt. The colors of me.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
What's your favorite color?” “Blue.” She rolled her eyes. “Boring. Mine's gold-or turquoise. Or emerald.” “Why doesn't that surprise me?” “Because you aren't as stupid as you look.” I didn't know whether to be insulted or flattered. She didn't give me time to decide.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
At times he felt that he had almost rather not be in love with her, for it brought him no peace. What was the use of it, if it was only going to be painful?
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
A man who wouldn't cheat for a poke don't want one bad enough. --Augustus "Gus" McCrae
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Grown-ups love figures. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essentail matters. They never say to you, “What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?” Instead, they demand: “How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?” Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him. If you were to say to the grown-ups: “I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof,” they would not be able to get an idea of that house at all. You have have to say to them: “I saw a house that cost $20,000.” Then they would exclaim: “Oh, what a pretty house that is!
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
The women one meets - what are they but books one has already read? You're a library of the unknown, the uncut. Upon my word I've a subscription.
Henry James (The Wings of the Dove)
closing your eyes will not make it so the monsters can’t see you. It will only make you blind.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
If this woman is to be my wife,” he said, swallowing hard, “you will not touch her again.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Mai in vita mia Dimenticherò la tua presenza. Tu mi hai presa quando ero spezzata E mi hai riparata Su questa terra troppo piccola Dove potrei mai voltare il mio sguardo? Così immenso, così profondo! Non c'è più tempo. Non c'è più nulla. Distanza. C'è soltanto la realtà. Quello che è stato, è stato per sempre.
Frida Kahlo (Diego et Frida)
Fear was inevitable. We all made our choices, and we all suffered our consequences. We all felt fear. The trick was learning to live with that fear, to continue forward in spite of it.
Shelby Mahurin (Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove, #3))
I pointed my nose right at the bomber down below, then i hit the overburn. "Cadet?" Ironsides said. "Pilot, what are you doing?" "My weapons are gone . . . I have to ram it." "Understood," Ironsides whispered. "Saints' own speed, pilot." "What?" Jorgen said over the line. "What? Ram it? Spin!" I dove toward the enemy bomber "Spin," Jorgen said . . . "Spin you'll die." "Yes," I whispered. "But I'll win anyway.
Brandon Sanderson (Skyward (Skyward, #1))
Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
William Shakespeare
Boo," I said. He reacted as all mutts react when I confront them. He leapt from his chair and dove for the nearest exit, shaking in terror. In my dreams. He glanced at me and started looking for Clay. It never failed. Mutts only quaked when I appeared because it usually meant Clayton wasn't far behind. I was nothing but a harbinger of doom.
Kelley Armstrong
The reason men are so awful is because some woman has spoiled them.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
If you are unafraid to look, darling, you are unafraid to find.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
Gansey turned the key. The engine turned over once, paused for the briefest of moments - and then roared to deafening life. The Camaro lived to fight another day. The radio was even working, playing the Stevie Nicks song that always sounded to Gansey like it was about a one-winged dove.
Maggie Stiefvater (The Raven Boys (The Raven Cycle, #1))
Call saw that everyone was looking at him, the hands and cowboys and townspeople alike. The anger had drained out of him, leaving him feeling tired. He didn't remember the fight, particularly, but people were looking at him as if they were stunned. He felt he should make some explanation, though it seemed to him a simple situation. "I hate a man that talks rude," he said. "I won't tolerate it.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
I’m an open book,” I say, thinking of all the men who have found it illegible. I made mistakes with these men. I dove for their legs as they tried to leave my house. I chased them down the hall with a bottle of Listerine, saying, I can be a beach read, I can get rid of all these clauses, please, I’ll just revise.
Raven Leilani (Luster)
With an exasperated sigh, he turned his head to kiss my fingers. “You’re impossible.” “I’m impractical, improbable, but never impossible.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
Who asked them dern pigs?” he said. “I guess they tracked us,” Augustus said. “They’re enterprising pigs.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Do not mistake me for porcelain. Do not mistake me for weak.
Shelby Mahurin (Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove, #3))
I expected little else" [...]"How dare you?" I clutched the front of my ruined dress in mock affront. "I am a God-fearing Christian woman now--
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
And just for a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, wiht a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotus-lands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven. - Sal Paradise
Jack Kerouac (On the Road: the Original Scroll)
This was middle school, the age of miracles, the time when kids shot up three inches over the summer, when breasts bloomed from nothing, when voices dipped and dove. Our first flaws were emerging, but they were being corrected. Blurry vision could be fixed invisibly with the magic of the contact lens. Crooked teeth were pulled straight with braces. Spotty skin could be chemically cleared. Some girls were turning beautiful. A few boys were growing tall.
Karen Thompson Walker (The Age of Miracles)
How I wish I was like the water, Flowing so freely with every drop Let my every emotion wonder, No need to start, nor even stop How I wish I was like the fire, Burning with every flame up Leaving a trace of hot desire As a Phoenix raises its' wings up How I wish I was like the earth, Raising each flower from the ground Seeing the beauty of death and birth And then returning to the ground How I wish I was like the wind, Hearing each whisper, sound and thought A lonesome and wandering little wind, Shattering all that has been sought Oh, how I wish I was where you are, Not separated by empty space, so far It seems like we're galaxies apart, But we find hope within our heart And how I wish I was all of the above, So I can come below and yet forget, The beauty of angels which come down like a dove And demons who love with no regret.
Virgil Kalyana Mittata Iordache
Occasionally the very youngness of the young moved him to charity--they had no sense of the swiftness of life, nor of its limits. The years would pass like weeks, and loves would pass too, or else grow sour.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
You're playing with fire here, Lou. Sooner or later, you will get burnt. I grinned halfheartedly. Let's hope for later, then.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
I don't see how being married could be any worse than listening to you talk for twenty years, but that still ain't much of a recommendation for it.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
Her memory's your love. You want no other.
Henry James (The Wings of the Dove)
Our respect had once been mutual. But that was before the envy.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
You are stingy with our words," she accused, then laughed gayly as she swept around, tossing over her shoulder a roguish look that drew the length of him. "But I am more generous, my lord. You are indeed a fine sight." -Aislinn
Kathleen E. Woodiwiss (The Wolf and the Dove)
The window gave onto a view of dove-gray roofs and balconies, each one containing the same cracked flowerpot and sleeping feline. It was as if the entire city of Paris had agreed to abide by a single understated taste. Each neighbor was doing his or her own to keep up standards, which was difficult because the French ideal wasn't clearly delineated like the neatness and greenness of American lawns, but more of a picturesque disrepair. It took courage to let things fall apart so beautifully.
Jeffrey Eugenides (The Marriage Plot)
I mean that everything this afternoon has been too beautiful, and that perhaps everything together will never be so right again. I'm very glad therefore you've been a part of it.
Henry James
Grown-ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. They never ask: ‘What does his voice sound like?’ ‘What games does he like best?’ ‘Does he collect butterflies?’ They ask: ‘How old is he?’ ‘How many brothers does he have?’ ‘How much does he weigh?’ ‘How much money does he have?’ Only then do they think they know him. If you tell grown-ups, ‘I saw a beautiful red brick house, with geraniums at the windows and doves at the roof…,’ they won’t be able to imagine such a house. You have to tell them, ‘I saw a house worth a thousand francs.’ Then they exclaim, ‘What a pretty house!
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (The Little Prince)
Sensazione meravigliosa. Di quando il destino finalmente si schiude, e diventa sentiero distinto, e ormai inequivocabile, e direzione certa. Il tempo interminabile dell'avvicinamento. Quell'accostarsi. Si vorrebbe non finisse mai. Il gesto di consegnarsi al destino. Quella è un'emozione: Senza più dilemmi, senza più menzogne. Sapere dove. E raggiungerlo. Qualunque sia, il destino.
Alessandro Baricco (Ocean Sea)
That night, the Raka conspirators had plenty of news to report, particularly Ochobu. Aly had not known that the mages of the Chain had been laboring to eliminate any mages who had worked magic on the Crown’s behalf. So far they had killed seven of the most powerful. Chelaol would call this count of the dead another ‘good start,’ Aly thought grimly. This crude business of counting up lives taken struck her as a bad idea. It took the horror from death. When Ochobu named four mages on Lombyn who had had been killed in the streets of their towns, it had been about numbers, not lives. Maybe this is how you become a Rittevon, she thought. You get used to the dead being described as numbers, not fathers or daughters or grandparents. She turned to Dove when Ochobu finished, 'don’t ever be like this,' she urged. 'don’t think that it doesn’t matter if you only hear of murder as a number. If you keep it at a distance.
Tamora Pierce (Trickster's Queen (Daughter of the Lioness, #2))
His presence is not upon us to be commandeered or directed by us. Instead, we are tools in his hand. If there is a dove resting on my shoulder in the natural (and I love that phrase ‘and remained’) and I don’t want it to fly away, how am I going to walk around this room? Every step will be with the dove in mind. Every movement I make will be to preserve what I value most.
Bill Johnson (Manifesto for a Normal Christian Life)
There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate. The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait." She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead, Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.
Alfred Tennyson
Lorie darlin', life in San Francisco, you see, is still just life. If you want any one thing too badly, it's likely to turn out to be a disappointment. The only healthy way to live life is to learn to like all the little everyday things, like a sip of good whiskey in the evening, a soft bed, a glass of buttermilk, or a feisty gentleman like myself.
Gus McCrae in Lonesome Dove...
My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea; My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me. Raise me a daïs of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes; Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes; Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys; Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.
Christina Rossetti (Poems of Christina Rossetti)
He knew how to handle pain. You had to lie down with pain, not draw back away from it. You let yourself sort of move around the outside edge of pain like with cold water until you finally got up your nerve to take yourself in hand. Then you took a deep breath and dove in and let yourself sink down it clear to the bottom. And after you had been down inside pain a while you found that like with cold water it was not nearly as cold as you had thought it was when your muscles were cringing themselves away from the outside edge of it as you moved around it trying to get up your nerve. He knew pain.
James Jones (From Here to Eternity)
You don’t get to leave me. Do you understand?” Cupping my face, he wrenched me backward and kissed me hard. His voice was fierce. His eyes were fiercer. They burned into mine, angry and anguished and afraid. “You don’t get to do this alone. If you retreat into your mind—into your magic—I’ll follow you, Lou.” He shook me slightly, tears glistening in those frightened eyes. “I’ll follow you into that darkness, and I’ll bring you back. Do you hear me? Where you go, I will go.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
Well, what is it you all usually do during the day?" I made to pull the door to the stairwell but Ansel caught it and held it open for me. Okay, I didn't just like him - I adored him. "I assume it involves kicking puppies or stealing the souls of children.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
I figured out something, Lorie,” he said. “I figured out why you and me get along so well. You know more than you say and I say more than I know. That means we’re a perfect match, as long as we don’t hang around one another more than an hour at a stretch.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
The eye turned to the fire gave back no light and he closed it with his thumb and sat by her and put his hand upon her bloodied forehead and closed his own eyes that he could see her running in the mountains, running in the starlight where the grass was wet and the sun's coming as yet had not undone the rich matrix of creatures passed in the night before her. Deer and hare and dove and groundvole all richly empaneled on the air for her delight, all nations of the possible world ordained by God of which she was one among and not separate from. Where she ran the cries of the coyotes clapped shut as if a door had closed upon them and all was fear and marvel. He took up her stiff head out of the leaves and held it or he reached to hold what cannot be held, what already ran among the mountains at once terrible and of great beauty, like flowers that feed on flesh. What blood and bone are made of but can themselves not make on any altar nor by any wound of war. What we may well believe has power to cut and shape and hollow out the dark form of the world surely if wind can, if rain can. But which cannot be held never be held and is no flower but is swift and a huntress and the wind itself is in terror of it and the world cannot lose it.
Cormac McCarthy (The Crossing (The Border Trilogy, #2))
I believed I could identify the scent of the sky as I stood there, a blue menthol fragrance similar to the scent of seawater that sprayed into my face when I first dove into the ocean. That initial scent was much more subtle than the ocean's heavy, fishy aroma; it was a whiff of salt and mint, just as I approached the water on a dive, that warned me that a more powerful scent would soon enter my nose. It was the scent I dreamed in. And it was the scent of that spring sky as I stood in my yard.
Anne Spollen (The Shape of Water)
It’s my experience that a weakness understood is no weakness. If you know you have it, even if you can’t control it, you can make allowances for it. It is those who ignore or don’t understand their weaknesses who are wasted by them.
Kristen Ashley (Broken Dove (Fantasyland, #4))
He stepped colser. Looked deep into my eyes. Hesitated a millisecond, and then dove in. "I think I'm falling in love with you." Oh. No. "Cole--" "I know how you feel. About me. About him. I just wanted you to know-we could be good together. We could have a life. Kids. Vacations. On Sunday mornings I could serve you breakfast in bed." He gave me his I-know-you-find-me-irrestible grin. "And then I could make you something to eat.
Jennifer Rardin (Biting the Bullet (Jaz Parks, #3))
Your name is a -- bird in my hand a piece of -- ice on the tongue one single movement of the lips. Your name is: five signs, a ball caught in flight, a silver bell in the mouth a stone, cast in a quiet pool makes the splash of your name, and the sound is in the clatter of night hooves, loud as a thunderclap or it speaks straight into my forehead, shrill as the click of a cocked gun. Your name -- how impossible, it is a kiss in the eyes on motionless eyelashes, chill and sweet. Your name is a kiss of snow a gulp of icy spring water, blue as a dove. About your name is: sleep.
Marina Tsvetaeva
Where will you and Corr be?" I ask. Sean presses two fingers along the edge of the counter sweeping crumbs into a pile. I notice that his fingers are permanently dirt-stained like mine. He says," Right next to you and Dove." I stare at him. "You can't risk not winning. Not because of me." Sean doesn't lift his eye from the counter. "We make our move when you make yours. You on the inside, me on the outside. Corr can come from the middle of the pack; he's done it before. It's one side you don't have to worry about.
Maggie Stiefvater (The Scorpio Races)
Quelle come me non tradiscono mai, quelle come me hanno valori che sono incastrati nella testa come se fossero pezzi di un puzzle, dove ogni singolo pezzo ha il suo incastro e lì deve andare. Niente per loro è sottotono, niente è superficiale o scontato, non le amiche, non la famiglia, non gli amori che hanno voluto, che hanno cercato, e difeso e sopportato. Quelle come me regalano sogni, anche a costo di rimanerne prive. Quelle come me donano l’anima, perché un’anima da sola, è come una goccia d’acqua nel deserto.
Alda Merini
Do you know when they say soulmates? Everybody uses it in personal ads. “Soul mate wanted.” It doesn’t mean too much now. But soulmates – think about it. When your soul – whatever that is anyway – something so alive when you make music or love and so mysteriously hidden most of the rest of the time, so colorful and big but without color or shape – when your soul finds another soul it can recognize even before the rest of you knows about it. The rest of you just feels sweaty and jumpy at first. And your souls get married without even meaning to – even if you can’t be together for some reason in real life, your souls just go ahead and make the wedding plans. A soul’s wedding must be too beautiful to even look at. It must be blinding. It must be like all the weddings in the world – gondolas with canopies of doves, champagne glasses shattering, wings of veils, drums beating, flutes and trumpets, showers of roses. And after that happens you know – that’s it. This is it.
Francesca Lia Block (Missing Angel Juan (Weetzie Bat, #4))
When her doctor took her bandages off and led her into the garden, the girl who was no longer blind saw “the tree with the lights in it.” It was for this tree I searched through the peach orchards of summer, in the forests of fall and down winter and spring for years. Then one day I was walking along Tinker creek and thinking of nothing at all and I saw the tree with the lights in it. I saw the backyard cedar where the mourning doves roost charged and transfigured, each cell buzzing with flame. I stood on the grass with the lights in it, grass that was wholly fire, utterly focused and utterly dreamed. It was less like seeing that like being for the first time see, knocked breathless by a powerful glance. The flood of fire abated, but I’m still spending the power. Gradually the lights went out in the cedar, the colors died, the cells un-flamed and disappeared. I was still ringing. I had been my whole life a bell and never knew it until at that moment I was lifted and struck. I have since only very rarely seen the tree with the lights in it. The vision comes and goes, mostly goes, but I live for it, for the moment the mountains open and a new light roars in spate through the crack, and the mountains slam.
Annie Dillard (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Where am I going? I don't quite know. Down to the stream where the king-cups grow- Up on a hill where the pine-trees blow- Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know. Where am I going? The clouds sail by, Little ones, baby ones, over the sky. Where am I going? The shadows pass, Little ones, baby ones, over the grass. If you were a cloud, and sailed up there, You'd sail on the water as blue as air. And you'd see me here in the fields and say: "Doesn't the sky look green today?" Where am I going? The high rooks call: "It's awful fun to be born at all. Where am I going? The ring-doves coo: "We do have beautiful things to do." If you were a bird, and lived on high, You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by, You'd say to the wind when it took you away: "That's where I wanted to go today!" Where am I going? I don't quite know. What does it matter where people go? Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow- Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.
A.A. Milne (When We Were Very Young (Winnie-the-Pooh, #3))
Paul D did not answer because she didn't expect or want him to, but he did know what she meant. Listening to the doves in Alfred, Georgia, and having neither the right nor the permission to enjoy it because in that place mist, doves, sunlight, copper dirt, moon - everything belonged to the men who had the guns. Little men, some of them, big men too, each one of whom he could snap like a twig if he wanted to. Men who knew that their manhood lay in their guns and were not even embarrassed by the knowledge that without fox would laugh at them. And these "men" who made even vixen laugh could, if you let them, stop you from hearing doves or loving moonlight. So you protected yourself and loved small. Picked the tiniest stars out of the sky to own; lay down with head twisted in order to see the loved one over the rim of the trench before you slept. Stole shy glances at her between the trees at chain-up. Glass blades, salamanders, spiders, woodpeckers, beetles, a kingdom of ants. Anything bigger wouldn't do. A woman, a child, a brother - a big love like that would split you wide open in Alfred, Georgia. He knew exactly what she meant: to get to a place where you could love anything you chose - not to need permission for desire - well now, THAT was freedom.
Toni Morrison (Beloved)
I see you’re in a hurry to get someplace. It’s a great mistake to hurry.” “Why?” Joe asked, puzzled by almost everything the traveler said. “Because the grave’s our destination,” Mr. Sedgwick said. “Those who hurry usually get to it quicker than those who take their time.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
I love you, Lou.” His eyes welled with fresh tears. “I—I’ve never seen anyone savor anything the way you do everything. You make me feel alive. Just being in your presence—it’s addictive. You’re addictive. It doesn’t matter you’re a witch. The way you see the world . . . I want to see it that way too. I want to be with you always, Lou. I never want to be parted from you again.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
Usu­al­ly, very ear­ly in the morn­ing. Ger­man la­bor­ers were go­ing to work. They would stop and look at us with­out sur­prise. One day when we had come to a stop, a work­er took a piece of bread out of his bag and threw it in­to a wag­on. There was a stam­pede. Dozens of starv­ing men fought des­per­ate­ly over a few crumbs. The work­er watched the spec­ta­cle with great interest. Years later, I witnessed a sim­ilar spec­ta­cle in Aden. Our ship’s pas­sen­gers amused them­selves by throw­ing coins to the “natives,” who dove to retrieve them. An el­egant Parisian la­dy took great plea­sure in this game. When I no­ticed two chil­dren des­perate­ly fighting in the wa­ter, one try­ing to stran­gle the oth­er, I implored the la­dy: “Please, don’t throw any more coins!” “Why not?” said she. “I like to give char­ity…
Elie Wiesel (Night (The Night Trilogy, #1))
little sun little moon little dog and a little to eat and a little to love and a little to live for in a little room filled with little mice who gnaw and dance and run while I sleep waiting for a little death in the middle of a little morning in a little city in a little state my little mother dead my little father dead in a little cemetery somewhere. I have only a little time to tell you this: watch out for little death when he comes running but like all the billions of little deaths it will finally mean nothing and everything: all your little tears burning like the dove, wasted.
Charles Bukowski (Sifting Through the Madness for the Word, the Line, the Way: New Poems)
When I was a boy my grandfather died, and he was a sculptor. He was also a very kind man who had a lot of love to give the world, and he helped clean up the slum in our town; and he made toys for us and he did a million things in his lifetime; he was always busy with his hands. And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for all the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them just the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I've never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He DID things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.
Ray Bradbury
I crept into his lap. “What am I, Reid? Say it again.” “You’re a witch.” “And what are you?” He didn’t hesitate, and my heart swelled. “I am too.” “Only partly right, I’m afraid.” My smile—now genuine—grew at his confusion, and I leaned forward, rubbing my nose against his. He closed his eyes. “Allow me to fill in the gaps for you.” I kissed his nose. “You are a huntsman.” Though he recoiled slightly, I didn’t let him escape, kissing his cheek. “You are a son.” I kissed his other cheek. “You are a brother.” His forehead. “You are a husband.” His eyelids and his chin. “You are brave and strong and good .” And, finally, his lips. “But most important, you are loved.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
Cover me!' Augustus said as he jumped out from behind the wall and raced toward the school. Isaac fumbled for his controller and then started firing while the bullets rained down on Augustus, who was shot once and then twice but still ran, Augustus shouting,'YOU CAN’T KILL MAX MAYHEM!' and with a final flurry of button combinations, he dove onto the grenade, which detonated beneath him. His dismembered body exploded like a geyser and the screen went red. A throaty voice said, 'MISSION FAILURE,' but Augustus seemed to think otherwise as he smiled at his remnants on the screen. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and shoved it between his teeth. 'Saved the kids' he said. 'Temporarily' I pointed out. 'All salvation is temporary' Augustus shot back. 'I bought them a minute. Maybe that’s the minute that buys them an hour, which is the hour that buys them a year. No one’s gonna buy them forever, Hazel Grace, but my life bought them a minute. And that’s not nothing.
John Green (The Fault in Our Stars)
I Hear the sledges with the bells - Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II Hear the mellow wedding bells - Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! - From the molten - golden notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle - dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! - how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III Hear the loud alarum bells - Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now - now to sit, or never, By the side of the pale - faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells - Of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - In the clamor and the clanging of the bells! IV Hear the tolling of the bells - Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people - They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone - They are neither man nor woman - They are neither brute nor human - They are Ghouls: - And their king it is who tolls: - And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the paean of the bells! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells: - Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells: - To the sobbing of the bells: - Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells - To the tolling of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells, - To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
Edgar Allan Poe
A girl stood before him in midstream, alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane's and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh. Her thighs, fuller and soft-hued as ivory, were bared almost to the hips, where the white fringes of her drawers were like feathering of soft white down. Her slate-blue skirts were kilted boldly about her waist and dovetailed behind her. Her bosom was as a bird's, soft and slight, slight and soft as the breast of some dark-plumaged dove. But her long fair hair was girlish: and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face.
James Joyce (A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man)
From the time I began to read, as a child, I loved to feel their heft in my hand and the warm spot caused by their intimate weight in my lap; I loved the crisp whisper of a page turning, the musky odor of old paper and the sharp inky whiff of new pages. Leather bindings sent me into ecstasy. I even loved to gaze at a closed book and daydream about the possibilities inside.
Rita Dove
As they are now also your enemies, I must offer a piece of advice: 'tis dangerous to meddle in the affairs of witches. Forget your vengeance. Forget everything you've learned about this world of shadows and magic. You are wildly outmatched and woefully inadequate in the face of these women. Death is the kindest of their torments - a gift bestowed only to those who earned it.
Shelby Mahurin (Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1))
He walked straight out of college into the waiting arms of the Navy. They gave him an intelligence test. The first question on the math part had to do with boats on a river: Port Smith is 100 miles upstream of Port Jones. The river flows at 5 miles per hour. The boat goes through water at 10 miles per hour. How long does it take to go from Port Smith to Port Jones? How long to come back? Lawrence immediately saw that it was a trick question. You would have to be some kind of idiot to make the facile assumption that the current would add or subtract 5 miles per hour to or from the speed of the boat. Clearly, 5 miles per hour was nothing more than the average speed. The current would be faster in the middle of the river and slower at the banks. More complicated variations could be expected at bends in the river. Basically it was a question of hydrodynamics, which could be tackled using certain well-known systems of differential equations. Lawrence dove into the problem, rapidly (or so he thought) covering both sides of ten sheets of paper with calculations. Along the way, he realized that one of his assumptions, in combination with the simplified Navier Stokes equations, had led him into an exploration of a particularly interesting family of partial differential equations. Before he knew it, he had proved a new theorem. If that didn't prove his intelligence, what would? Then the time bell rang and the papers were collected. Lawrence managed to hang onto his scratch paper. He took it back to his dorm, typed it up, and mailed it to one of the more approachable math professors at Princeton, who promptly arranged for it to be published in a Parisian mathematics journal. Lawrence received two free, freshly printed copies of the journal a few months later, in San Diego, California, during mail call on board a large ship called the U.S.S. Nevada. The ship had a band, and the Navy had given Lawrence the job of playing the glockenspiel in it, because their testing procedures had proven that he was not intelligent enough to do anything else.
Neal Stephenson (Cryptonomicon)
And I got a strong feeling of the passage of time. Not the time of clouds and sun and rain and the moving stars that adorn the night, not spring when its time comes or fall, not the time that makes leaves bud on branches and then tears them off or folds and unfolds and colors the flowers, but the time inside me, the time you can't see but it molds us. The time that rolls on and on in people's hearts and makes them roll along with it and gradually changes us inside and out and makes us what we'll be on our dying day.
Mercè Rodoreda (The Time of the Doves)
Have I told you,” I said, bending low to whisper in his ear, “how beautiful you are when you smile?” He smiled then, the kind of smile that dimpled his cheek and set my heart on fire. “Tell me.” “Sometimes when I look at you, I can’t breathe.” My hand moved to his belt. “I can’t think. I can’t function until you look back. And when you give me this smile”—I brushed my knuckle against his dimple—“it’s like a secret just for the two of us. I don’t think I ever love you more than when you smile at me.
Shelby Mahurin (Blood & Honey (Serpent & Dove, #2))
Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. *Oh, she shows the torches how to burn bright! She stands out against the darkness like a jeweled earring hanging against the cheek of an African. Her beauty is too good for this world; she’s too beautiful to die and be buried. She outshines the other women like a white dove in the middle of a flock of crows. When this dance is over, I’ll see where she stands, and then I’ll touch her hand with my rough and ugly one. Did my heart ever love anyone before this moment? My eyes were liars, then, because I never saw true beauty before tonight.*
William Shakespeare (Romeo and Juliet)
,Grown-ups love figures. When you describe a new friend to them, they never ask you about the important things. They never say 'What's his voice like? What are his favourite games? Does he collect butterflies?' Instead they demand 'How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much does his father earn?' Only then do they feel they know him. If you say to the grown-ups: 'I've seen a lovely house made of pink brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the rood', they are unable to picture such a house. You must say: I saw a house that come a hundred thousand francs.' Then they cry out: 'How pretty!' Again, you might say to them: 'The proof that the little prince existed is that he was enchanting, that he laughed, and that he was looking for a sheep. When someone wants a sheep, it is proof that they exist.' The grown-ups will merely shrug their shoulders, and treat you like a child. But if you tell them: 'The planet he came from is Asteroid B 612', then they will be convinced, and will spare you all their question. That is how they are. You must not hold it against them. Children have to be very indulgent towards grown-ups.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
The music was more than music- at least what we are used to hearing. The music was feeling itself. The sound connected instantly with something deep and joyous. Those powerful moments of true knowledge that we have to paper over with daily life. The music tapped the back of our terrors, too. Things we'd lived through and didn't want to ever repeat. Shredded imaginings, unadmitted longings, fear and also surprisingly pleasures. No, we can't live at that pitch. But every so often something shatters like ice and we are in the river of our existence. We are aware. And this realization was in the music, somehow, or in the way Shamengwa played it.
Louise Erdrich (The Plague of Doves)
Suffering is the nature of this world. It is the golden standard by which all things are measured. It is not happiness that sets the bar, but agony. Even happiness cannot be fully recognized without the right measure of misery to contrast its borders. Suffering magnifies hunger-exhaustion-prods you to move when prosperity is just a dream out of reach. It is the mortal twin of eternal hope. How you respond to its touch molds you, shapes your future as it rains down oppression like fire over your shoulders. Deception. It laid over my world like a bruise. Covered it so completely I bought the lie that the shadow offered and found comfort nestled in its thorny arms. I walked the trail it dusted with breadcrumb, walked in the slip noose it had skillfully wove and dove off the cliff without realizing- willingly, with vigor. Heartbreak. There is no bigger void, no darker shade of soot- no ache more unstoppable than that of a broken heart. A heart in pieces can very much kill you-without love’s healing touch, you will surely die. They say time heals all wounds. They lied.
Addison Moore (Expel (Celestra, #6))
Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistly blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow; There oft, as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dreams.
Robert Burns
The making of gardens and parks goes on with civilization all over the world, and they increase both in size and number as their value is recognized. Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike. This natural beauty-hunger is made manifest in the little windowsill gardens of the poor, though perhaps only a geranium slip in a broken cup, as well as in the carefully tended rose and lily gardens of the rich, the thousands of spacious city parks and botanical gardens, and in our magnificent National Parks—the Yellowstone, Yosemite, Sequoia, etc.—Nature's sublime wonderlands, the admiration and joy of the world. Nevertheless, like anything else worth while, from the very beginning, however well guarded, they have always been subject to attack by despoiling gain-seekers and mischief-makers of every degree from Satan to Senators, eagerly trying to make everything immediately and selfishly commercial, with schemes disguised in smug-smiling philanthropy, industriously, sham-piously crying, "Conservation, conservation, panutilization," that man and beast may be fed and the dear Nation made great. Thus long ago a few enterprising merchants utilized the Jerusalem temple as a place of business instead of a place of prayer, changing money, buying and selling cattle and sheep and doves; and earlier still, the first forest reservation, including only one tree, was likewise despoiled. Ever since the establishment of the Yosemite National Park, strife has been going on around its borders and I suppose this will go on as part of the universal battle between right and wrong, however much of its boundaries may be shorn, or its wild beauty destroyed.
John Muir (The Yosemite)
The eastern sky was red as coals in a forge, lighting up the flats along the river. Dew had wet the million needles of the chaparral, and when the rim of the sun edged over the horizon the chaparral seemed to be spotted with diamonds. A bush in the backyard was filled with little rainbows as the sun touched the dew. It was tribute enough to sunup that it could make even chaparral bushes look beautiful, Augustus thought, and he watched the process happily, knowing it would only last a few minutes. The sun spread reddish-gold light through the shining bushes, among which a few goats wandered, bleating. Even when the sun rose above the low bluffs to the south, a layer of light lingered for a bit at the level of the chaparral, as if independent of its source. The the sun lifted clear, like an immense coin. The dew quickly died, and the light that filled the bushes like red dirt dispersed, leaving clear, slightly bluish air. It was good reading light by then, so Augustus applied himself for a few minutes to the Prophets. He was not overly religious, but he did consider himself a fair prophet and liked to study the styles of his predecessors. They were mostly too long-winded, in his view, and he made no effort to read them verse for verse—he just had a look here and there, while the biscuits were browning.
Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove (Lonesome Dove, #1))
I am made to sow the thistle for wheat; the nettle for a nourishing dainty I have planted a false oath in the earth, it has brought forth a poison tree I have chosen the serpent for a councellor & the dog for a schoolmaster to my children I have blotted out from light & living the dove & the nightingale And I have caused the earthworm to beg from door to door I have taught the thief a secret path into the house of the just I have taught pale artifice to spread his nets upon the morning My heavens are brass my earth is iron my moon a clod of clay My sun a pestilence burning at noon & a vapor of death in night What is the price of Experience do men buy it for a song Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No it is bought with the price Of all that a man hath his house his wife his children Wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy And in the withered field where the farmer plows for bread in vain It is an easy thing to triumph in the summers sun And in the vintage & to sing on the waggon loaded with corn It is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted To speak the laws of prudence to the houseless wanderer To listen to the hungry ravens cry in wintry season When the red blood is filled with wine & with the marrow of lambs It is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements To hear a dog howl at the wintry door, the ox in the slaughter house moan To see a god on every wind & a blessing on every blast To hear the sounds of love in the thunder storm that destroys our enemies house To rejoice in the blight that covers his field, & the sickness that cuts off his children While our olive & vine sing & laugh round our door & our children bring fruits and flowers Then the groans & the dolor are quite forgotten & the slave grinding at the mill And the captive in chains & the poor in the prison, & the soldier in the field When the shattered bone hath laid him groaning among the happier dead It is an easy thing to rejoice in the tents of prosperity Thus could I sing & thus rejoice, but it is not so with me!
William Blake (The Complete Poems)
Tutta quella città… non se ne vedeva la fine… / La fine, per cortesia, si potrebbe vedere la fine? / E il rumore / Su quella maledettissima scaletta… era molto bello, tutto… e io ero grande con quel cappotto, facevo il mio figurone, e non avevo dubbi, era garantito che sarei sceso, non c’era problema / Col mio cappello blu / Primo gradino, secondo gradino, terzo gradino / Primo gradino, secondo gradino, terzo gradino / Primo gradino, secondo / Non è quel che vidi che mi fermò / È quel che non vidi / Puoi capirlo, fratello?, è quel che non vidi… lo cercai ma non c’era, in tutta quella sterminata città c’era tutto tranne / C’era tutto / Ma non c’era una fine. Quel che non vidi è dove finiva tutto quello. La fine del mondo / Ora tu pensa: un pianoforte. I tasti iniziano. I tasti finiscono. Tu sai che sono 88, su questo nessuno può fregarti. Non sono infiniti, loro. Tu, sei infinito, e dentro quei tasti, infinita è la musica che puoi fare. Loro sono 88. Tu sei infinito. Questo a me piace. Questo lo si può vivere. Ma se tu / Ma se io salgo su quella scaletta, e davanti a me / Ma se io salgo su quella scaletta e davanti a me si srotola una tastiera di milioni di tasti, milioni e miliardi / Milioni e miliardi di tasti, che non finiscono mai e questa è la vera verità, che non finiscono mai e quella tastiera è infinita / Se quella tastiera è infinita, allora / Su quella tastiera non c’è musica che puoi suonare. Ti sei seduto su un seggiolino sbagliato: quello è il pianoforte su cui suona Dio / Cristo, ma le vedevi le strade? / Anche solo le strade, ce n’era a migliaia, come fate voi laggiù a sceglierne una / A scegliere una donna / Una casa, una terra che sia la vostra, un paesaggio da guardare, un modo di morire / Tutto quel mondo / Quel mondo addosso che nemmeno sai dove finisce / E quanto ce n’è / Non avete mai paura, voi, di finire in mille pezzi solo a pensarla, quell’enormità, solo a pensarla? A viverla… / Io sono nato su questa nave. E qui il mondo passava, ma a duemila persone per volta. E di desideri ce n’erano anche qui, ma non più di quelli che ci potevano stare tra una prua e una poppa. Suonavi la tua felicità, su una tastiera che non era infinita. Io ho imparato così. La terra, quella è una nave troppo grande per me. È un viaggio troppo lungo. È una donna troppo bella. È un profumo troppo forte. È una musica che non so suonare.
Alessandro Baricco (Novecento. Un monologo)
Già nella vetrina della libreria hai individuato la copertina col titolo che cercavi. Seguendo questa traccia visiva ti sei fatto largo nel negozio attraverso il fitto sbarramento di Libri Che Non Hai Letto che ti guardavao accigliati dai banchi e dagli scaffali cercando d'intimidirti. Ma tu sai che non devi lasciarti mettere in soggezione, che tra loro s'estendono per ettari ed ettari i Libri Che Puoi Fare A Meno Di Leggere, i Libri Fatti Per Altri Usi Che La Lettura, i Libri Già Letti Senza Nemmeno Bisogno D'Aprirli In Quanto Appartenenti Alla Categoria Del Già Letto Prima Ancora D'Essere Stato Scritto. E così superi la prima cinta dei baluardi e ti piomba addosso la fanteria dei Libri Che Se Tu Avessi Più Vite Da Vivere Certamente Anche Questi Li Leggeresti Volentieri Ma Purtroppo I Giorni Che Hai Da Vivere Sono Quelli Che Sono. Con rapida mossa li scavalchi e ti porti in mezzo alle falangi dei Libri Che Hai Intenzione Di Leggere Ma Prima Ne Dovresti Leggere Degli Altri, dei Libri Troppo Cari Che Potresti Aspettare A Comprarli Quando Saranno Rivenduti A Metà Prezzo, dei Libri Idem Come Sopra Quando Verranno Ristampati Nei Tascabili, dei Libri Che Potresti Domandare A Qualcuno Se Te Li Presta, dei Libri Che Tutti Hanno Letto Dunque E' Quasi Come Se Li Avessi Letti Anche Tu. Sventando questi attacchi, ti porti sotto le torri del fortilizio, dove fanno resistenza i Libri Che Da Tanto Tempo Hai In Programma Di Leggere, i Libri Che Da Anni Cercavi Senza Trovarli, i Libri Che Riguardano Qualcosa Di Cui Ti Occupi In Questo Momento, i Libri Che Vuoi Avere Per Tenerli A Portata Di Mano In Ogni Evenienza, i Libri Che Potresti Mettere Da Parte Per Leggerli Magari Quest'Estate, i Libri Che Ti Mancano Per Affiancarli Ad Altri Libri Nel Tuo Scaffale, i Libri Che Ti Ispirano Una Curiosità Improvvisa, Frenetica E Non Chiaramente Giustificabile. Ecco che ti è stato possibile ridurre il numero illimitato di forze in campo a un insieme certo molto grande ma comunque calcolabile in un numero finito, anche se questo relativo sollievo ti viene insidiato dalle imboscate dei Libri Letti Tanto Tempo Fa Che Sarebbe Ora Di Rileggerli e dei Libri Che Hai Sempre Fatto Finta D'Averli Letti Mentre Sarebbe Ora Ti Decidessi A Leggerli Davvero.
Italo Calvino (If on a Winter's Night a Traveler)