Ned Hayes's Blog, page 158

Lose track of your writing — John Steinbeck

Lose track of your writing — John Steinbeck

“April comes to us, with her showers sweet. I...

          “April comes to us, with her showers sweet. I wake to the cries of little birds before the light comes across the heath. They wait all night with open eyes. Now, with the rain at dawn, their voices make melody.

         I close my eyes. My mother is walking in the spring, in the morning of the year. Oh when that season with sweet showers, pierces through the chill draught of March, I can feel the sweet liquid of joy in me.

         In this new spring come to earth, I look in my mother’s eyes and I give her release at last.”

        — from the novel Sinful Folk

Source of Photo: treyratcliffphotos

"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, setting them in bundles, choosing with caprice, singing to them, naming each plant and leaf with fondness. She danced in the sunlight and the shade. Even watching her a moment, my spirits lifted. “

— from the novel SINFUL FOLK

"Be faithful to that which exists within yourself."

“Be faithful to that which exists within yourself.”

- Andre Gide (via thingsandschemes)

Photo

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

"Stars flicker above, points of bright ice in a dark river. I...

"Stars flicker above, points of bright ice in a dark river. I pull a heavy sheepskin around my legs and stretch my feet towards the fire. Despite the cold, Liam plays his flute, the sound whistling through the night. Soon my eyes are heavy, my head nodding."
— from the novel Sinful Folk

“Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I wipe my...

“Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I wipe my face with a handful of straw and look out on the floating ice. 

The day before my father died, my mother did something I still don’t understand. She 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.”

— from forthcoming novel Sinful Folk

SOURCE: asp3n: untitled by dream states on Flickr.

"I need the sea, because it teaches me." — Pablo Neruda

"I need the sea, because it teaches me." — Pablo Neruda

"The sound of a distant ocean covers me with surf, that tide...

"The sound of a distant ocean covers me with surf, that tide that bears me back eternally into the past, back to the place where I was born.  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 breaking rhythm never ceasing. My mother waited until we were out of sight of land."  

— from the novel Sinful Folk