Jenny Moon Reflection Quotes

a glimpse of light reflected in his eyes. Stars shining there perhaps. Or the moon.

Anita Johnston, Ph.D., author of Eating in the Light of the Moon, taught me to look in the mirror with curiosity rather than fear. So I may look at my reflection and think, ‘That’s interesting. I wonder why my body seems bigger today than it did yesterday. Maybe it’s water weight. Maybe it’s my outfit. Or maybe my eyes are just playing tricks on me.’ I know it’s not possible for me to gain a noticeable amount of weight overnight, so I will go no further than that. I move on with my day without skipping a beat—and definitely without missing a meal.

Walked on the battery with Louis Young† in the moon-light. It was lovely! The tide was full. The waters of the bay rippled up against the stones with a pleasing gurgle. The shores of the opposite island of St John’s were seen dimly in the distance; the clump of tall pines standing out a darker shade in the haze. The whole bay was light, silver-like, with ships spotting it, their watch-lights trembling like stars, and reflected below in the water. The sky was perfectly cloudless, intensely blue. The moon full and sharply defined—no haze tip there. The air full of fragrance. The houses along the bay with their piazzas, so strange, so tropical-looking. All still and calm. Is it reality? or I am dreaming, and in fancy conjuring up the shadow of some half-forgotten story? It is real. I have seen it. And I love to remember it as the farewell scene of Charleston. Taken

(Lager fire) The penlights and the bonfire only illumined the beach on a school night trip out of town and a few feet of the pitch-black dark water, with the big full twilight moon, and the faces of the people who had jumped, still nodding in the aquatic, glorious, too contented to feel the cold, taunting the other competitors. The gun was just the goes between the legs. It was the loneliness that got me in the end, like the knife, Jenny fake die to get boys to kiss her, the topmost of the ridge was a shaggy mass of black, where the trees, cove, where encroaching on the black rock, on a pink and orange backdrop, where the rock was getting slowly pulled into the on the city far away, one or the other. But Maggie knew who they were, and she wanted all me in the water, yet the plan was to be with him full about what a girl to do? All the competitors had to announce themselves once they reached the top of the ridge, and then, this year’s sportscaster, white wood roller-coaster bulb lights reflection of the waves, three or more kids had yet to jump: Marcel being one.

Something in me tells me the worst is yet to come, but I don’t want to believe it. How beastly we men have become, but, no, that is too good a comparison. We are worse than the beasts of the field, for they kill to eat, but we kill for much lesser things.--Silver Moon

The night sky sparkled as he peered out of his hole. It shone like dew drops on spider’s web. Jimmy thought back to a web, strung between two shoots of wheat, he had seen as a kid. It had been a miracle the web hadn’t broken, the way it was laden down with dew. Jimmy studied the web of the sky, unbroken by all the turmoil of men beneath its canopy. It gave him some reassurance of solidity in an ever-vaporizing existence. Men fell around him at every battle, but he managed to keep living. His life was like that miracle web.