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Pain is a pesky part of being human, I've learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without, in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that can't be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air! We may not have wings growing out of our backs, but healing is the closest thing that will give us that wind against our faces.
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beauty
experience
flight
flying
freedom
growing
growth
heal
healing
hurt
hurting
inspirational
inspirational-life
inspirational-quotes
inspiring
learning
life
life-and-living
life-lessons
living
living-life
pain
painful
wind
wings
wisdom
wisdom-in-life
wisdom-quotes
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C. JoyBell C. |
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It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
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summer
sun
wind
winter
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Charles Dickens |
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A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.
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a-song-of-ice-and-fire
coldness
fear
forest
george-r-r-martin
north
snow
the-wall
trees
wind
winter
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George R.R. Martin |
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Voiceless it cries, Wingless flutters, Toothless bites, Mouthless mutters.
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wind
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J.R.R. Tolkien |
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The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.
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blood
house
rebecca
road
sea
sky
wind
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Daphne DuMaurier |
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And now, my poor old woman, why are you crying so bitterly? It is autumn. The leaves are falling from the trees like burning tears- the wind howls. Why must you mimic them?
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copy
cry
crying
despair
fall
howl
metaphor
mimic
poetic
rain
shakespearean
simile
wind
wit
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Mervyn Peake |
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If it's ka it'll come like a wind, and your plans will stand before it no more than a barn before a cyclone
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fate
ka
love
roland
stephen-king
susan
susan-delgado
wind
wizard-and-glass
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Stephen King |
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So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.
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morning
sea
sky
wind
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Virginia Woolf |
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-She is like the wind, open and free. If I cage the wind, would it die? -Then don't cage it, Mikhail. Trust it to stay beside you.
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die-trust
wind
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Christine Feehan |
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A sailor chooses the wind that takes the ship from a safe port. Ah, yes, but once you're abroad, as you have seen, winds have a mind of their own. Be careful, Charlotte, careful of the wind you choose.
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life
sailor
ship
wind
inspirational
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Avi |
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Why the Egyptian, Arabic, Abyssinian, Choctaw? Well, what tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What color is lightning? Where does thunder goe when it dies?
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lightning
nature
rain
thunder
wind
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Ray Bradbury |
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For example, the wind has its reasons. We just don't notice as we go about our lives. But then, at some point, we are made to notice. The wind envelops you with a certain purpose in mind, and it rocks you. The wind knows everything that's inside you. And not just the wind. Everything, including a stone. They all know us very well. From top to bottom. It only occurs to us at certain times. And all we can do is go with those things. As we take them in, we survive, and deepen.
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wind
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Haruki Murakami |
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When I opened my eyes I saw nothing but the pool of nocturnal sky, for I was lying on my back with out-stretched arms, face to face with that hatchery of stars. Only half awake, still unaware that those depths were sky, having no roof between those depths and me, no branches to screen them, no root to cling to, I was seized with vertigo and felt myself as if flung forth and plunging downward like a diver.
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french
sand
sky
stars
wind
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Antoine de Saint-Exupéry |
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"Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched--by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever." (p.33)"
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apple
asymmetry
atlantic
autumn
blind-man
blossom
bones
clock
colors
depression
eyes
god
horror
journey
left-eye
living-things
madness
mirror
nineteen-years-old
power-of-sight
prayer
questions
sacraments
smile
starlight
tree
wind
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Tim Willocks |
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...this beginning motion, this first time when a sail truly filled and the boat took life and knifed across the lake under perfect control, this was so beautiful it stopped my breath...
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ocean
sailing
sea
wind
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Gary Paulsen |
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I kept staring into the blackness of the woods, drawn into the darkness as I always had been. I suddenly realized how alone I was. (But this is how you travel, the wind whispered back, this is how you've always lived.)
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loneliness
travel
wind
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Bret Easton Ellis |
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Music burst through him, perfect notes he hear rarely. Fire and ice, wind and calm, sky and earth, water and rock all fused together. Joley seemed as wild and turbulent s the sea, yet beneath her fiery passion, at the very core of her, she was as forceful and strong and as constant as the deepest ocean currents. Ilya seemed as calm as a windless sea, yet beneath the surface smoldered a volcano of such explosive magnitude, his power could easily sweep everything from his path. Together they completed each other, his melody and hers merging together into a single, perfect harmony.
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harmony
perfect
sea
wind
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Christine Feehan |
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Wind warns November's done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious.
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bat
bats
dialogue-over-a-ouija-board
fall
foliage
leaves
november
ouija
wind
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Sylvia Plath |
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It is He who makes the lightning flash upon you, inspiring you with fear and hope, and gathers up the heavy clouds. The thunder sounds His praises, and the angels, too, in awe of him. He hurls his thunderbolts at whom He pleases. Yet the unbelievers wrangle about God.
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fates
maruts
odin
old-man
rudra
wild-hunt
wind
zeus
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Anonymous |
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"Listen to th' wind wutherin' round the house," she said. "You could bare stand up on the moor if you was out on it tonight." Mary did not know what "wutherin'" meant until she listened, and then she understood. It must mean that hollow shuddering sort of roar which rushed round and round the house, as if the giant no one could see were buffeting it and beating at the walls and windows to try to break in. But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it made one feel very safe and warm inside a room with a red coal fire."
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wind
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Frances Hodgson Burnett |
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I sit alone in a dead world. The wind blows hot and dry, and the dust gathers like particles of memory waiting to be swept away. I pray for forgetfulness, yet my memory remains strong, as does the outstretched arm of the oppressive air. It seems as if the wind has been there since the beginning of the nightmare. Sometimes loud and harsh, a thousand sharp needles scratching at my reddened skin. Sometimes a whisper, a curious sigh in the black of night, of words more frightening than pain. I know now the wind has been speaking to me. Only I couldn't understand because I was too scared. I am scared now as I write these words. Still, there is nothing else to do.
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dead
fear
forgetfulness
memory
needles
nightmare
whispers
wind
world
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Christopher Pike |
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What is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
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die
dying
macabre
melt
melting
naked
nature
poetic
sun
sunlight
wind
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Kahlil Gibran |
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Some words are wind, ser. Some are treason.
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wind
words
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George R.R. Martin |
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The breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.
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hand-of-life
life
light
sun
sunlight
wind
windy
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Kahlil Gibran |
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"What a night it was! The jagged masses of heavy dark cloud were rolling at intervals from horizon to horizon, and thin white wreaths covered the stars. Through all the rush of the cloud river the moon swam, breasting the waves and disappearing again in the darkness. I walked up and down, drinking in the beauty of the quiet earth and the changing sky. The night was absolutely silent. Nothing seemed to be abroad. There was no scurrying of rabbits, or twitter of the half-asleep birds. And though the clouds went sailing across the sky, the wind that drove them never came low enough to rustle the dead leaves in the woodland paths. Across the meadows I could see the church tower standing out black and grey against the sky. ("Man Size In Marble")"
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night
sky
wind
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E. Nesbit |
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Words are wind, but wind can fan a fire. My father and my uncle fought words with steel and flame. We shall fight words with words, and put out the fires before they start.
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fire-and-blood
flame
steel
wind
words
words-are-dangerous
words-are-powerful
words-as-weapons
words-of-wisdom
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George R.R. Martin |
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There are always waves on the water. Sometimes they are big, sometimes they are small, and sometimes they are almost imperceptible. The water's waves are churned up by the winds, which come and go and vary in direction and intensity, just as do the winds of stress and change in our lives, which stir up the waves in our minds.
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churned-up
meditation
mind
mindfulness
stress
water
waves
wind
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Jon Kabat-Zinn |
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Tell Khan Drogo that he has given me the wind.
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daenerys-targaryen
khal-drogo
wind
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George R.R. Martin |
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Then the wind came in with Bart and blew the vase of roses from the table. I stood and stared down at the crystal pieces and the petals scattered about. Why was the wind always trying to tell me something? Something I didn't want to hear!
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gothic
petals-on-the-wind
premonition
roses
vc-andrews
wind
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V.C. Andrews |
fab681e
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Lords of fire and earth and water, Lords of moon and wind and sky, Come now to the Old Man's daughter, Come from fathers long gone by. Bring blue from a distance eye. Lords of water, earth, and fire, Lords of wind and snow and rain, Give to my heart's desire. Life as all life comes with pain, But blue will come to us again.
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desire
earth
eye
fire
heart
lords
moon
pain
rain
sky-life
snow
water
wind
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Madeleine L'Engle |
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Things can change quickly in the game of thrones. Words are wind, and the wind is always blowing at the Wall.
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wind
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George R.R. Martin |
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No one ever remembered a nice day. But no one ever forget the feel of paralyzed fish, the thud of walnut-sized hail against a horse's flank, or the way a superheated wind could turn your eyes to burlap.
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weather
wind
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Erik Larson |
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"The only way he could have her was to shatter this stubborn faith of hers. In doing so, would he shatter her? "What has this god of yours ever really done for you?" She stood very still for a long moment, her back to him. "Everything."
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a-voice-in-the-wind
a-voice-in-the-wind-quote
francine
francine-rivers
francine-rivers-quote
in
quote
rivers
the
voice
wind
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Francine Rivers |
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Islanders too are for sculpting.
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wind
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Seamus Heaney |
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If I provide for this life and turn away from the Lord, I am wise for a moment, but lost forever.
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a-voice-in-the-wind
a-voice-in-the-wind-quote
francine
francine-rivers
francine-rivers-quote
in
quote
rivers
the
voice
wind
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Francine Rivers |
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"The winds must come from somewhere when they blow...There must be reasons why the leaves decay. (From Auden's "If I Could Tell You"
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leaves
wind
winds
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Alexander McCall Smith |
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"7 Up soda pop mixed with bright pink grenadine with a chemical-tasting maraschino cherry stuck to the plastic straw. It was one of those drinks marketed for children, but Mandy could see that she wasn't the only adult ordering one. For some reason or other these old-fashioned restaurants always seemed to attract old ladies ordering strawberry Jell-O with whipped cream, truck drivers ordering "worms and dirt" (chocolate pudding with Oreo cookies squished over the top in a glass bowl, fruit-flavoured gummy worms over the cookie crumbs) and businessmen trying not to get syrup from their hot fudge sundaes on their neckties and tailored suits. Mandy figured that maybe they were all trying to grasp a time way back in the past when they were all little children, excitedly ordering desert for a special occasion under the warm incandescent light from above, cheerful and bouncing music filling their minds. Hurriedly she ate the food, paid the tab and hurried back to her car in the bitter wind, not wanting to stick around for very long."
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adult
bounce
businessman
canada
car
cherry
childhood
desert
diner
growing-up
kid
memory
music
shirley-temple
snow
swiss-chalet
wind
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Rebecca McNutt |
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The only way he could have her was to shatter this stubborn faith of hers. In doing so, would he shatter her? 'What has this god of yours ever really done for you?' She stood very still for a long moment, her back to him. 'Everything.
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a-voice-in-the-wind
a-voice-in-the-wind-quote
francine
francine-rivers
francine-rivers-quote
in
rivers
the
voice
wind
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Francine Rivers |
abd5500
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We came on the wind of the carnival. Eight and a half long years ago, on a wind that seemed to promise so much; a mad wind, full of confetti and scented with smoke and pancakes cooked by the side of the road. The pancake stall is still there, and the crowds that line the side of the street, and the flower-decked cart with its motley crew of fairies, wolves and witches. I bought a from that very stall. I bought one now, to remember. Still as good, just the right side of burnt, and the flavors- butter and salt and rye- help reawaken the memory.
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flavors
pancakes
reminiscing
wind
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Joanne Harris |