She was beautiful in a way that only wild things can be beautiful.
Gary PaulsenI was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way.
Gillian FlynnTags: children born upbringing wild raised
That's what people do when they find a special place that wild and full of life, they trample it to death.
Carl HiaasenWeetzie could not even cry and make Kleenex roses. She remembered the day her father, Charlie, had driven away in the smashed yellow T-bird, leaving her mother Brandy-Lynn clutching her flowered robe with one hand and an empty glass in the other, and leaving Weetzie holding her arms crossed over her chest that was taking its time to develope into anything
Francesca Lia BlockTags: different weird wild cool offbeat ducky witchy
What others see in you now is just a MILD chapter of you; the WILD version of your brand is yet to be visible. Just dare and will show up!
Israelmore AyivorTags: success future vision dare food-for-thought potential wild visible you brand blessing great possible branding version personal-branding mild dream-big potentials israelmore-ayivor you-can
And it was in that moment of distress and confusion that the whip of terror laid its most nicely calculated lash about his heart. It dropped with deadly effect upon the sorest spot of all, completely unnerving him. He had been secretly dreading all the time that it
would come - and come it did.
Far overhead, muted by great height and distance, strangely thinned and wailing, he heard the crying voice of Defago, the guide.
The sound dropped upon him out of that still, wintry sky with an effect of dismay and terror unsurpassed. The rifle fell to his feet. He stood motionless an instant, listening as it were with his whole body, then staggered back against the nearest tree for support, disorganized hopelessly in mind and spirit. To him, in that moment, it seemed the most shattering and dislocating experience he had ever known, so that his heart emptied itself of all feeling whatsoever as by a sudden draught.
'Oh! oh! This fiery height! Oh, my feet of fire! My burning feet of fire...' ran in far, beseeching accents of indescribable appeal this voice of anguish down the sky. Once it called - then silence through all the listening wilderness of trees.
And Simpson, scarcely knowing what he did, presently found himself running wildly to and fro, searching, calling, tripping over roots and boulders, and flinging himself in a frenzy of undirected pursuit after the Caller. Behind the screen of memory and emotion with which experience veils events, he plunged, distracted and half-deranged, picking up false lights like a ship at sea, terror in his eyes and heart and soul. For the Panic of the Wilderness had called to him in that far voice - the Power of untamed Distance - the Enticement of the Desolation that destroys. He knew in that moment all the pains of someone hopelessly and irretrievably lost, suffering the lust
and travail of a soul in the final Loneliness. A vision of Defago, eternally hunted, driven and pursued across the skyey vastness of those ancient forests fled like a flame across the dark ruin of his thoughts...
It seemed ages before he could find anything in the chaos of his disorganized sensations to which he could anchor himself steady for a moment, and think...
The cry was not repeated; his own hoarse calling brought no response; the inscrutable forces of the Wild had summoned their victim beyond recall - and held him fast.
("The Wendigo")
Tags: loneliness distance panic forest wilderness wild voice disappearance desolation
I’m the least fanciful guy around, but on nights when I wonder whether there was any point to my day, I think about this: the first thing we ever did, when we started turning into humans, was draw a line across the cave door and say: Wild stays out. What I do is what the first men did. They built walls to keep back the sea. They fought the wolves for the hearth fire.
Tana FrenchAll the love of the high, wild places, all the amazing joy in being alive sounded in his voice
Elyne MitchellTags: love nature joy wild alive
Just then, down through the last glimmer of twilight, stepping high and free, like a cloud, a moth, a ghost in the shape of a horse — came the Silver Stallion. Wild, beautiful, and free as the wind he came, from one kingdom to another, Thowra
Elyne MitchellTags: beauty free horse wind wild twilight cloud
Tearing your clothes, burning your books and torturing yourself only prove that you are nothing but a wild creature.
M.F. MoonzajerTags: books burning wild clothes creature tearing torturing
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