Cargo To Destiny

“We got there without being spotted. I pulled her in, then shut the door, pressing my back to it and exhaling like an epileptic pilot who’d just landed a cargo plane full of dynamite.”
― Brandon Sanderson

His Palette

“The ‘Muse’ is not an artistic mystery, but a mathematical equation. The gift are those ideas you think of as you drift to sleep. The giver is that one you think of when you first awake.”
― Roman Payne

The Description

“In the Winter of my life I fell in love with Autumn and you. The leaves will change and fall but your love I feel is here to stay, at least for just another day.”
― Maria Koszler

The Pallet In My Heart’s Song

“He stabbed into her, driving deeply, repeatedly, iron-hard and demanding. She welcomed the piercing pleasure of his urgency, opening her legs wider, pushing her skirts away and wrapping her legs about him. His thrusts pushed her roughly against the table, but she rose to meet each one, clinging to him at the hip, grinding her own need to match his. Her fingers clawed at his buttocks, gripping him to her, pushing herself against him, devouring him.”
~ The Gentlemen’s Club

The Ring of Stability

“Do you give the horse his strength or clothe his neck with a flowing mane? Do you make him leap like a locust, striking terror with his proud snorting? He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength, and charges into the fray. He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; he does not shy away from the sword. The quiver rattles against his side, along with the flashing spear and lance. In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground; he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.”
― Anonymous

P R U N E S

“Sweetheart, let’s stop here and gaze at what we have. What we’ve created with all our time and emotions, that we invested in each other. And then feel its loveliness, in our skin and to our very bones.”
~ Nitya Prakash

I N H A R M O N I C

“…I just want to listen as the train fills
completely with warm water, and we are all swimming slowly toward the man with Mozart flowing from his hands.

I want nothing but to put my fingers inside his mouth, let that prayer hum through my veins.

I want crawl into the hole in his violin.
I want to sleep there until my flesh
becomes music.”

~ Ocean Vuong