Ned Hayes's Blog, page 97

Reading, reading, reading!

Reading, reading, reading! 

"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."

— from the novel SINFUL FOLK

PHOTO: Available on print and merchandise over at Redbubble. ( by happymelvin.tumblr.com )

"Stars steam away as a pale sun rises, hot coal dropped in a...

"Stars steam away as a pale sun rises, hot coal dropped in a watery sky. Light seeps across the forest as the reedy shrieks of wood fowl echo in the trees. The path from our village to the King’s Highway is no road at all. To the east, that faint track leads up through the forest until it reaches, finally, the open country and paths that lead to other places. Hob is taking us beyond the bounds of the known world.”
— from the novel  SINFUL FOLK

“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 into the past, back to the place where I was born. People come through the whiteness, through the bright light, but all of them are ghosts.”

— from the novel SINFUL FOLK

PHOTO: Squibnocket Beach (by AlisonGamm)

"People come to me on waves of memory, but all of them are...

"People come to me on waves of memory, but all of them are ghosts. 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. She waited to tell me the secret."
— from the novel Sinful Folk

Rest in Peace: Maya Angelou

Photographed by Taylor Jewell

Maya Angelou’s story is well known to most. Raised in the segregated South, and coming of age during the civil rights era, Angelou is the author of seven autobiographies, including, most famously, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. It’s one of the best-selling nonfiction books in publishing history—especially popular in middle-school and high-school classrooms tasked with educating its students about race in America. I first read Angelou when I was in the eighth grade. And like so many American schoolchildren, I found her writing made an indelible mark on my understanding of our nation’s complicated history. Angelou stood apart from Shakespeare and Hemingway; she was elegant, poetic, and subtle—even when dealing with some of the darkest moments of her life.

"It was about how we as humans begin by burning books and end by burning people."

“It was about how we as humans begin by burning books and end by burning people.”

- Neil Gaiman (Introduction to Fahrenheit 451)

booklikes:If you don’t like to read, you haven’t found the...

booklikes:

If you don’t like to read, you haven’t found the right book.

"People come to me on waves of memory, but all of them are...

"People come to me on waves of memory, but all of them are ghosts. 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. She waited to tell me the secret."

— from the novel SINFUL FOLK

Love the printed word! Great quote!

Love the printed word! Great quote!