Within its gates I heard the soundOf winds in cypress caverns caughtOf huddling tress that moaned, and soughtTo whisper what their roots had found.(__ Dream of Fear_)
I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets.
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I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets.
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The survivor spoke to us though, or tried to. Mumbling through that matted brown beard of his, pale as death itself. I can__ say now if it was weakness from his wounds or what it was _ but we struggled to understand him. In fact we got nothing intelligible from him at all then. He seemed afraid, like any dying man probably would be, but he did seem more terrified than any dying man I__e seen before _ and I__e seen a few in my time. Let me tell you, Corsair or not, he grabbed whatever hand would hold his, and clenched it so tight his knuckles turned white! He kept fading out as we carried him on the stretcher board the medics brought with them. Looking back, I think he tried to warn us, poor bastard. He tried to tell us to leave him behind and go, but we wouldn__ listen. We thought we were better than the Corsairs, remember? We thought we would be all moral and upright and try to help him. __on__ say I didn__ warn you._ were the last words he said before losing consciousness. At least, those that we could make out. At the end of it all, he was right _ as it turned out, we couldn__ even help ourselves.
Sometimes the clouds weren__ weightless. Sometimes their bellies got dark and full. It was life. It happened. It didn__ mean it wasn__ scary, or that I wasn__ still afraid, but now I knew that as long as I was standing under it with Braden beside me when those clouds broke, I__ be alright.
Quand le doigt montre le ciel, l__mbécile regarde le doigt. [When a finger is pointing up to the sky, only a fool looks at the finger.]
Theres something about sitting alone in the dark that reminds you how big the world really is, and how far apart we all are. The stars look like they're close, like you could reach out and touch them. But you cant because sometimes things look alot closer than they seem
Haunted trees covered behind the curtains of their own leaves stare at the dark from the fringe of streets.