All her life she had believed in something more, in the mystery that shape-shifted at the edge of her senses. It was the flutter of moth wings on glass and the promise of river nymphs in the dappled creek beds. It was the smell of oak trees on the summer evening she fell in love, and the way dawn threw itself across the cow pond and turned the water to light.
Eowyn IveyTag: imagery beautiful-writing
It was beautiful, Mabel knew, but it was a beauty that ripped you open and scoured you clean so that you were left helpless and exposed, if you lived at all.
Eowyn IveyTag: beauty scenic-beauty
It was as if she had reached into her own pocket and discovered a small pebble, as hard as a diamond, that she had forgotten belonged to her.
Eowyn IveyNo warm blood in me doth glow
Water in my veins doth flow
Yet I'll laugh and sing and play
By frosty night and frosty day
Little daughter of the snow
But whenever I do know
That you love me little, then
I shall melt away again
Back into the sky I'll go
Little daughter of the snow
Was it as Ada suggested, that we can choose our own endings, joy over sorrow? Or does the cruel world just give and take, give and take, while we flounder through the wilderness?
Eowyn IveyTag: life
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