You’re going back?” asked Bod. Things that had been immutable were changing. “You’re really leaving? But. You’re my guardian.”
“I was you’re guardian. But you are old enough to guard yourself. I have other things to protect.
Tag: melancholy happy sad
I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on the top of the beer can.
Sylvia PlathTag: melancholy sadness
Cyrano: The leaves---
Roxane: What color---Perfect Venetian red! Look at them fall.
Cyrano: Yes---they know how to die. A little way
From the branch to the earth, a little fear
Of mingling with the common dust---and yet
They go down gracefully---a fall that seems
Like flying!
Tag: melancholy death grace reflection
This night is not calm; the equinox still struggles in its storms. The wild rains of the day are abated; the great single cloud disparts and rolls away from heaven, not passing and leaving a sea all sapphire, but tossed buoyant before a continued, long-sounding, high-rushing moonlight tempest. The Moon reigns glorious, glad of the gale, as glad as if she gave herself to his fierce caress with love. No Endymion will watch for his goddess tonight. there are no flocks out on the mountains; and it is well, for to-night she welcomes Aeolus.
Charlotte BrontëTag: nature romance melancholy charlotte-brontë charlotte-bronte shirley
I close my eyes and listen to the ocean.
I'm thinking about sailing, to England or maybe France. The way the wind would feel on my face and the sound of his voice screaming my name through his laughter. The waves would crash like applause. God, I remember when I used to be afraid of the ocean.
Tag: romance melancholy
So many of the loveliest things in England are melancholy.
Dodie SmithTag: melancholy england
That sun, that light had faded, and she had faded with them. Now she was as grey as the season itself.
Anita BrooknerTag: melancholy sadness grief hopelessness
Je pensais de meme que notre jeunesse etait finie et le bonheur manqué.
I thought too that our youth was over and we had failed to find happiness.
Tag: age melancholy despair french dejection youth-is-temporary
Rain is a lullaby heard through a thick, isolating blanket of clouds. It is the tinkling harp of water droplets; a moist breath whistling through willow reeds; a pattering beat background to the mourner's melody. Rain is a soft song of compassion for the brokenhearted.
Richelle E. GoodrichTag: melancholy rain sadness mourning grief depression heartbreak heartache richelle raindrops richelle-goodrich
In a world without melancholy, nightingales would start burping
Emil M. CioranTag: melancholy cioran
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