My Own Private Idaho

“Nothing good ever comes of love. What comes of love is always something better”
― Roberto Bolaño

Wingspan. Lifespan.

“When I looked, I knew I might never again see so much of the earth so beautiful, the beautiful being something you know added to something you see, in a whole that is different from the sum of its parts. What I saw might have been just another winter scene, although an impressive one. But what I knew was that the earth underneath was alive and that by tomorrow, certainly by the day after, it would be all green again. So what I saw because of what I knew was a kind of death with the marvellous promise of less than a three-day resurrection.”
― Norman Maclean

Four Years

“Death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself… When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled.” –Oliver Sachs

Snowed In

“..the fields might fall to fallow and the birds might stop their song awhile; the growing things might die and lie in silence under snow, while through it all the cold sea wore its face of storms and death and sunken hopes…and yet unseen beneath the waves a warmer current ran that, in its time, would bring the spring.”
― Susanna Kearsley

Wild Pig Skull

“She worked her toes into the sand, feeling the tiny delicious pain of the friction of tiny chips of silicon against the tender flesh between her toes. That’s life. It hurts, it’s dirty, and it feels very, very good.”
― Orson Scott Card

Hot Pink Jalapeno Garlic Kraut

“Life is full of grief, to exactly the degree we allow ourselves to love other people.”
― Orson Scott Card

Watchmen

“Winter gold: the sparrow’s footprints in the snow.”
― Marty Rubin

The Animal Lover

“Beautiful winter means beautiful spring! When you look at a great winter scenery, see the flowers, see the bees, see the butterflies, they are all there!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

Powder

“Dream of the Tundra Swan

Dusk fell
and the cold came creeping,
cam prickling into our hearts.
As we tucked beaks
into feathers and settled for sleep,
our wings knew.

That night, we dreamed the journey:
ice-blue sky and the yodel of flight,
the sun’s pale wafer,
the crisp drink of clouds.
We dreamed ourselves so far aloft
that the earth curved beneath us
and nothing sang but
a whistling vee of light.

When we woke, we were covered with snow.
We rose in a billow of white.”
― Joyce Sidman

Air

“Love is like a beautiful summer day in the middle of winter.”
― Jarod Kintz