Slideshow Of Love Quotes

They all don’t even believe in this dumb ghost story, or so the girl that feels to death, the kids say that I go with; her noting her but legion and myth. I think about all the haunted love in this ghostly building, hell yeah, I do… that's what it’s all about. I see the light coming towards me, and then I start to come off my feet into it, weird- into the old library, there is no floor holding me. You can see the swimmers in the pool below, just like the auditorium is over there off to the one side. The shaves are floating too, everything is, there are ghostly-like boards there translucent I am not standing at all my feet are hanging down, floating on nothingness, not even my toes are touching as I seem as if I am sixty feet in the air or more, my arms crossed not wanting to look down, yet I have too. (‘Angels Fall’ playing in the background) I see it, I see, I see, the big window at the front seems to suck me into it, getting bigger and bigger. I float past all the books that have been forgotten, like the kids of the past must have done also. Oh- so long ago… The dance-like to me in my eyesight and that would be all right if I was crapping myself by it, it's cool, yet creepy; they twinkle with wonder as if they want me to know something that lies inside. Like a scrapbook, with a photo of my fall and open up or something, like that. And it did, yet it was not my life that I saw this time. It was everyone in my past that I never knew, mom, dad, and going back, it’s a slideshow ruining in reverse. That is when she opened her wings to me and said- ‘Don’t give up without a fight!’ All right- I said. ‘This is what you give up to them’ -She said, (As she is standing in front of me with a phenomenon!) I got to the end and saw myself passing and did believe it. ‘So… go-o…’ ‘Run!’ ‘Or they will kill- YOU!’ ‘Like they did me.’ (I didn’t believe it, ha- what was she- like just some dream to me, if you will. It was not something I believed in at all like up or down, I want to say here in-between. I am too young to think about death. It’s never-ever on my mind, only when some old dude kicks it, yet who gives a crap, they have nothing to say anyway.

The poissonnier is delivering some of his beautiful daurades and scallops." I let out a sigh of relief. "Perfect. If there's anything I can handle, it's sea bream, lovely and light," I said, nodding my head. I needed to do this. "It's winter. Fennel is in season, yes?" I asked, thinking about what would plate well with the duck, and she nodded. "Pomegranate? And hazelnuts?" "Of course," said Philippa, rubbing her hands together. "I can't wait to see what you've got up your sleeve." That would make two of us. What was I going to do with the daurade? Something simple like daurade with almonds and a romesco sauce? Did the kitchen even have almonds? The more I thought about this recipe, the more boring it sounded. Roasted daurade with lemon and herbs? Again, typical. I had an opportunity to create something special, something out of this world, on my own terms. I wanted to get creative and do something colorful, playing with the colors of winter and whatever was in season. My imagination raced with all of the possibilities- a slideshow in my mind presenting delicious temptations. A crate of oranges caught my eye. I licked my lips- a light sweet potato purée infused with orange. Braised cabbage. Seared daurade filets. Saffron. The colors, ingredients, and plating came together in my mind.

I stared, knowing this young Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike would be in a slideshow starting soon.

You are allowed to love tiny, daily, ordinary moments in your life. You’re allowed to feel wild joy for the simplest and smallest of reasons. You’re allowed to be unreasonably delighted by spicy pickles or a perfect apple or a joke your teen tells you. You’re allowed to be bewitched by your partner, even after all these years, to yearn to be close to him, to bury your face in his neck. You’re allowed to feel joy for almost no reason, except that you walked by the candle that your mother sent you and even when it’s not lit, just seeing it there on the hutch makes you happy. You’re allowed to hold memories in your mind and play them over and over like an old-fashioned slideshow—click, click, click.

Jesus hardly talked to anyone about what He’d done. The Bible never depicts one of those end-of-camp slideshows where Jesus goes over all He had done with His disciples. Instead, Jesus modeled that we don’t need to talk about everything we’ve done.