Ned Hayes's Blog, page 106
April 24, 2014
"I had forgotten how palatial is that vast dome of a narthex and...
"I had forgotten how palatial is that vast dome of a narthex and a church – like a hollow meadow found in the midst of a grove of ancient trees, reaching up towards heaven into murky depths where great beams are dimly glimpsed and the tiny patterings of a sparrow or a bat echo in the campaniles."
— from the novel SINFUL FOLK
PHOTO Credit: Iñaki Larrea
April 23, 2014
rachelburiedinabook:
"The first thing that reading teaches us...
"The first thing that reading teaches us is how to be alone." -Jonathan Franzen
"Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life now included...
"Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life now included Nell. I learned that her secret thyme and mint beds were deep in the woods, out by the chuckling stream that disappeared underground. She gathered plants she needed every day, and she was as a child who gathers flowers in May."
April 22, 2014
"A bird calls, distant and wounded. The woods are still as...
"A bird calls, distant and wounded. The woods are still as death. Quick steam huffs in and out of Geoff’s open mouth. And with that, the dangerous moment seems past. We gather wood and help Tom build his fire. As I pick up spare twigs and dried bracken, I wonder how far our sounds penetrate into the black forest, and how far our shouts echo along the White Road."
PHOTO: arquerio: untitled by flying-frog on Flickr.
April 21, 2014
"If an electrician said, I have electrician’s block… he would be committed."
- Mark Helprin, on Writer’s Block (via booksandpublishing)
"On the day we take the forest path to the deep stream beside the alder copse. There a plover...
"On the day we take the forest path to the deep stream beside the alder copse. There a plover calls in the deep woodsy stillness, and then a pair of martins dart across the over-grown path. Through the trees can be seen the thick and fast-moving line of flowing water, a steep bank beneath our feet and flowering at the edge of the water, the purple loosestrife and meadowsweet of spring."
April 20, 2014
"Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I remember the...
"Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I remember the day before she died, my mother took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea—the thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the rhythm never ceasing. And she taught me something: strange and secret words in a foreign tongue, a lilting singsong cadence to it."
PHOTO SOURCE: amarepervivere
