From her hiding place in the brush, a young girl watched, her eyes wide with curiosity. There was a burning smell coming from the pit where flames crackled, sending sparks shooting high. Odd shapes had been carved in the trunks of the circling trees. The.
She felt her heart beating in her throat when the man in the mask began to chant again.
I think this one’s in the running for Ditzy Bride status. Not only does she want her MOH to walk her two Siamese cats down the aisle rather than carry a bouquet, but wants to include them on the guest list.
Love, even when it’s not real, can be deadly.
While the bells rang and echoed, she sat near the edge of the water. Here was peace, she thought, and joy. She would never, never take either for granted. She would remember to give something back every day. Even if it was just a heel of bread for the gulls. She would tend what she planted. She would remember to be kind, and never forget to offer a helping hand.
Symbols are important. The Christians followed the pagans there, carving and painting their one God as the old ones carved and painted the many. Neither understand that the one is part of the many, the many part of the one.
I’m loved. I’m wanted. Spirits are fed on this alone.
We’re a superstitious breed, we Irish, and wise enough to build around a faerie hill without disturbing it, to leave a stone dance where it stands. And to keep back from a place where the dark still thrums.
I’m not looking for a man right now. Too damn much trouble. Even when it’s good, they take a lot of time, effort, and energy. I’m enjoying using all that time, effort, and energy on myself.
Maybe some could say that changing her mind was part of her problem. But she didn’t think so. If you never changed your mind, what was the point of having one? It seemed to Hayley she’d known too many people who were stuck with one way of thinking, and how could that be using the brain God gave you.
Shut up. You Matter. That’s it.
My own brother calling me a brickhead. Sneering faeries insulting me. Women punching me in the face. How much more am I to swallow in one bloody day?
One of the best things about dogs, to Fiona’s mind, was their absolute joy in welcoming you home, whether you’d been gone for five minutes or five days. There lay unconditional and boundless love.
Everyone feels hemmed in from time to time, no matter where they live.” She laid a hand on his thigh. “When I’m feeling that way, I go to Ireland. Walk along an empty beach. When I do, I think of all the people who have walked there before, and will walk there again. Then it occurs to me that nothing is forever. No matter how bad, or how good, everything passes and moves on to another level.” “‘All things change; nothing perishes,’” he mumbled.
She was a fine woman, and lived a good and long life. But it’s left to us still living to miss those who aren’t.
He’d learned quickly enough that when you cooked for a family, everybody was a critic.
If you look for it, you can find something good about anybody.
You’re asking for it, Julie Lynne.” “When.
When a woman brings something up, then doesn’t have much to say about it, she’s got a lot to say about it.
Need a gallon of milk and a box of bullets? This was the spot.