Faith and science, I have learned, are two sides of the same coin, separated by an expanse so small, but wide enough that one side can't see the other. They don't know they are connected.
Mary E. PearsonBut—" yelped Twizbang, “Greydor will eat us!
Richard DueTags: moon fantasy apple dragon young ya faeries adult dystopian middle series kindle ebook coin realm amazon ipad b-n epub ibooks ibookstore indie mg nook
Some people are just sad when there aren't talking squirrels.” —Lily Winter
Richard DueTags: moon fantasy apple dragon young ya faeries adult dystopian middle series kindle ebook coin realm amazon ipad b-n epub ibooks ibookstore indie mg nook
You won't find the tales I bear in any books . . . My tales are from the Moon Realm.” —Ebb Autumn
Richard DueTags: moon fantasy apple dragon young ya faeries adult dystopian middle series kindle ebook coin realm amazon ipad b-n epub ibooks ibookstore indie mg nook
Odd names: Winter, Autumn—they almost sound as if someone just made them up.” —Dubb
Richard DueTags: moon fantasy apple dragon young ya faeries adult dystopian middle series kindle ebook coin realm amazon ipad b-n epub ibooks ibookstore indie mg nook
Tavin cupped his hands to his mouth. “Here, dragon-dragon-dragon!” he yelled.
Lily stared in amazement. Well, that was bold, she thought, and stupid.
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The message, which one fall or another of the coin would eventually give him, was how to get himself out of his chamber and into Nepenthe's, so that he could tell her why he had not come to tell her why he had not come.
Patricia A. McKillipTags: coin confusing-explanations
I search his eyes for the slightest sign of anything, fear, remorse, anger. But there's only the same look of amusement that ended our last conversation. It's as if he's speaking the words again. "Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other."
He's right. We did.
The point of my arrow shifts upward. I release the string. And President Coin collapses over the side of the balcony and plunges to the ground. Dead.
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The plane banked, and he pressed his face against the cold window. The ocean tilted up to meet him, its dark surface studded with points of light that looked like constellations, fallen stars. The tourist sitting next to him asked him what they were. Nathan explained that the bright lights marked the boundaries of the ocean cemeteries. The lights that were fainter were memory buoys. They were the equivalent of tombstones on land: they marked the actual graves. While he was talking he noticed scratch-marks on the water, hundreds of white gashes, and suddenly the captain's voice, crackling over the intercom, interrupted him. The ships they could see on the right side of the aircraft were returning from a rehearsal for the service of remembrance that was held on the ocean every year. Towards the end of the week, in case they hadn't realised, a unique festival was due to take place in Moon Beach. It was known as the Day of the Dead...
...When he was young, it had been one of the days he most looked forward to. Yvonne would come and stay, and she'd always bring a fish with her, a huge fish freshly caught on the ocean, and she'd gut it on the kitchen table. Fish should be eaten, she'd said, because fish were the guardians of the soul, and she was so powerful in her belief that nobody dared to disagree. He remembered how the fish lay gaping on its bed of newspaper, the flesh dark-red and subtly ribbed where it was split in half, and Yvonne with her sleeves rolled back and her wrists dipped in blood that smelt of tin.
It was a day that abounded in peculiar traditions. Pass any candy store in the city and there'd be marzipan skulls and sugar fish and little white chocolate bones for 5 cents each. Pass any bakery and you'd see cakes slathered in blue icing, cakes sprinkled with sea-salt.If you made a Day of the Dead cake at home you always hid a coin in it, and the person who found it was supposed to live forever. Once, when she was four, Georgia had swallowed the coin and almost choked. It was still one of her favourite stories about herself. In the afternoon, there'd be costume parties. You dressed up as Lazarus or Frankenstein, or you went as one of your dead relations. Or, if you couldn't think of anything else, you just wore something blue because that was the colour you went when you were buried at the bottom of the ocean. And everywhere there were bowls of candy and slices of special home-made Day of the Dead cake. Nobody's mother ever got it right. You always had to spit it out and shove it down the back of some chair.
Later, when it grew dark, a fleet of ships would set sail for the ocean cemeteries, and the remembrance service would be held. Lying awake in his room, he'd imagine the boats rocking the the priest's voice pushed and pulled by the wind. And then, later still, after the boats had gone, the dead would rise from the ocean bed and walk on the water. They gathered the flowers that had been left as offerings, they blew the floating candles out. Smoke that smelt of churches poured from the wicks, drifted over the slowly heaving ocean, hid their feet. It was a night of strange occurrences. It was the night that everyone was Jesus...
...Thousands drove in for the celebrations. All Friday night the streets would be packed with people dressed head to toe in blue. Sometimes they painted their hands and faces too. Sometimes they dyed their hair. That was what you did in Moon Beach. Turned blue once a year. And then, sooner or later, you turned blue forever.
Tags: fish sea cake ocean bones blue salt coin tombstones choked markers sea-burial
True compassion does not sit on the laps of renovation; it dives with an approach to reconstruction. Don't throw a coin at a begger. Rather, destroy his source of poverty.
Israelmore AyivorTags: friends kindness love passion compassion poverty food-for-thought help poor martin-luther-king martin-luther-king-jr beg generousity coins renovation coin reconstruction begging israelmore-ayivor a-helping-hand begger true-compassion
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