Loramir Of Gondor's Journal

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The edge of the alphabet where words crumble and all forms of communication between the living and the dead are useless. One day we who live at the edge of the alphabet will find our speech.

Meanwhile, we are like those yellow birds which are kept apart from their kind -- you see their cages hanging in windows, in the sun -- because otherwise they would never learn the language of their captors. But like the yellow birds have we not our pleasures? We look long in mirrors. We have tiny ladders to climb up and down, little wheels to set our feet and our heart racing nowhere; toys to play with.

Should we not be happy?


~ from The Edge of the Alphabet, Janet Frame

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Hi there,

I've just started knitting socks and I want to make a pair for my brother in law. Plain gray socks with black heels and toes. When would I change to the new heel colour? I presume I'd start the new colour for the toes when I start the shaping part.


Thanks in advance

Fi

P.S. I'm using this pattern for those on Ravelry and have signed onto the Patons site

http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/jacquard--stripe-socks

Download here @ likewonderland

Ah! My Goddess
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Why do people have to be this lonely? What's the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to other's to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was Earth put here just to nourish human loneliness? - Sputnik Sweetheart - Haruki Murakami

The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person - Invisible Monsters - Chuck Palahniuk

Touching him was always so important to me. It was something I lived for. I never could explain why. Little nothing touches. My skin against his shoulder. The outsides of our thighs touching as we squeezed together on the bus. I couldn't explain it, but I needed it. Sometimes I imagined stitching all of our little touches together. How many thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love?
Why does anyone ever make love? - Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close - Johnathan Safron Foer

Henry: The hardest part is Clare's solitude. Sometimes I come home and Clare seems kind of irritated, I've interrupted some train of thought, broken into the dreamy silence of her day. Sometimes I see an expression on Clare's face that is like a closed door. She has gone inside the room of her mind and is sitting knitting or something. I've discovered that Clare likes to be alone - The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger

I wasn't sure at all. How did I know that someday - at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere - the bell jar, with its distortions, wouldn't descend again? - The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

"You know, babe." Her voice had an older women's weary advice in it. "You're so hungry. You want so much."
"Well." Flannery shrugged. "So what? I'll never get it."
"You might. If you stop asking."
""I'll never stop asking."
"I know." Anne touched her cheek. "It's one of the things that makes you strangely loveable."

Flannery had never considered that the word "ache" might be meant literally, when applied to the heart. "Heartache" was fancy, surely, a gift for songwriters and a handy rhyme for "heartbreak." They weren't serious? But no, they were. It was something else to learn. The heart did ache, actually. She felt a dull grind of lack somewhere near her diaphragm, a pain that occupied the space of something removed. A phantom limb. A scratchy hunger. The wasting muscle fatigue of want.

We could have traveled enough for me if we had just stayed in your room.
- Pages For You - Sylvia Brownrigg
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+1 more large sized texture all at HERE @ joy_coloring

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Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte: -

“It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and [Edgar’s] is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.”

“That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags! In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image! The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her!”

“My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods; time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath--a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind--not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being”

"Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you--haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it”


"Kiss me again, but don't let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer--but yours! How can I?"

Download Here @ kiochan

+2 sets here @ meoworld