People often seem bemused and disappointed when I can’t answer this question with “all better!” I feel like a jerk but I don’t know what to say. Sometimes I just say “I’m okay, thanks” or, if I can’t manage that honestly, “I’ll be okay.” Because I will. “Okay” is not “all better,” but sometimes it’s enough.
I would run off with this woman and never look back.
What? How else do you celebrate a no-hitter?
"Timmy, do you like movies about gladiators?"
Of all the mysteries of space and time
That you have glimpsed across the years
What stroke of providence or strange design
Could find you standing with me here?
Or is this just a lucky accident,
Like waking up in time to see a falling star
And knowing you may never see its like again
Although you’ll spend a lifetime staring at the sky
For stars that might have been
But you have mapped the heavens and the earth
And shared the secrets of my soul
So point the way that I may watch for you
And then, my love, I’ll let you go.
And you are always laughing, even now
I want to paint a picture in my mind of you
The way you are tonight, forever young,
Your eyes that bend the stars to leave me bathing in the light
Well after you have gone.
Where did you go, lonely angel
After showing me enough to dream of flight?
And did you know, lonely angel,
In your absence, how I learned to love the night?
But you return again, you always do
You say the years go by like sand
An evening feels like half an hour with you
The moments drift between our hands
You are the point of light I know by heart
You are the remedy for my unquiet dreams
And when we dance, I almost think the world is new
And when you kiss my lips, I almost think I’m going to live forever
Just like you
If that were true, lonely angel
I would follow you beyond the stars I know
But then it’s true, too, my angel,
That I’ll be with you forever when you go
Sandra Oh: My very final moment of shooting was with Kevin, and it was the final moment where Cristina says goodbye to Owen. It was a beautiful image of Cristina in the gallery, basically behind glass and tapping on the OR theater below. Symbolically, with that distance, it cinematically tells the story of where they are and also puts a distance that they don’t want between them. It felt right because it was tough shooting that. Both Kevin and I, when we were shooting each other’s close-ups, the other person was in the complete dark. We were both holding a flashlight up to our face so that we could actually see each other. Usually Kevin and I are about a foot away from each other, so for there to be so much space between the glass was really rich. It’s not happiness; it’s not sadness. It was very full and rich — even in the way we wanted to be closer to each other, which is exactly like how Cristina and Owen are: They just want to be closer to each other. It’s just not the time now. (x)
This broke my heart but I thought it was beautifully done.
What would Fluttershy be like if she lived in another version of Equestria, a version where the laws of nature are different? In this world, only the strongest ponies survive, only the most daring live well, and only the good die young. What if this other Fluttershy, a hardened adventurer conditioned to bloodshed, had some sort of link to the calm and kind Fluttershy from the Equestria that we know?
I love this.
This was the dream that Mary MacArthur recounted to Fiona Macleod. A woman of great beauty came up to Mary as she was at the seashore gathering driftwood to kindle her fire. The woman threw the wood into the sea, saying she was throwing away Mary’s sorrows with the wood. She identified herself as Brigid, and Mary exclaimed aloud in wonder and praise, and went down on her knee. Brigid looked at her and said:
I am older than Brighid of the Mantle, Mary,
and it is you that should know that.
I put songs and music on the wind
before ever the bells of the chapels were rung in the West
or heard in the East.
I am Brighid-nam-Bratta (Brighid of the Mantle),
but I am also Brighid-Muirghin-na-tuinne (Brighid of the conception of the waves),
and Brighid-sluagh (Brighid of the immortal host),
Brighid-nan-sitheach seang (Brighid of the slim faery folk),
Brighid-Binne- Bheullbuchd-nan-trusganan-uaine (Brighid of sweet songs and melodious mouth),
and I am older than Aona (Friday)
and am as old as Luan (Monday).
And in Tir-na-h’oige (Land of the Ever Young)
my name is Suibhal-bheann (Mountain traveler);
in Tir-fo-thuinn (Country of the Waves)
it is Cù-gorm (Grey Hound);
and in Tir-nah’oise (Country of Ancient Years)
it is Sireadh-thall (Seek-beyond).
And I have been a breath in your heart.
And the day has its feet to it that will see me
coming into the hearts of men and women
like a flame upon dry grass,
like a flame of wind in a great wood.
For the time of change is at hand, Mairi nic Ruaridh Donn—
though not for you, old withered leaf on the dry branch,
though for you, too, when you come to us and see all things in the pools of life yonder.”
I MADE A THING!
Its ridiculously rough and quick (and crunchy?) But I needed to reacquaint myself with my Wacom before the new year and my art challenge begins. So Happy New Year everyone!
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