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Richelle E. Goodrich Quotes

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Famous Richelle E. Goodrich Quotes

“You don’t believe in leprechauns. A myth you say they be. You don’t believe in pots-o-gold, or four-leaf-clover tea. You don’t believe the rainbow’s end alights on treasured finds. They are illusions meant for fools you say ‘ave lost their minds. You don’t believe in whispering your wishes to the wind, where on St. Patrick’s holiday they blow t’wards Ireland. You don’t believe in magic spells or longings coming true. Yet, head-to-toe you dress in green on Patty’s Day, you do.”

“Life is the season for loving and caring, for laughing and caroling, giving and sharing. Christmas is meant for the same, people say, which makes life like Christmastime every day.”

“Not every day is awful. Not every day is good. Despite the way the hours pass, I’m living like I should. Not every day is all wrong. Not every day is right. At least I’m not a spider trying to scamper out of sight. Not every day is ideal. Not every day is bad. At any rate I have my senses, even if they’re mad. Not every day is happy. Not every day is glum. When melancholy drags me down, a simple tune I hum. Not every day I smile. Not every day I frown. With effort, I can take a scowl and turn it upside down. Not every day is crazy. Not every day is sane. If consequence nips at my heels I don’t pass on the blame. Not every day is giddy. Not every day is blah. Yet I can still appreciate a giggle and guffaw. Not every day is timid. Not every day is proud. I may not be a dragon, but I roar about as loud. Not every day has rainbows. Not every day has rain. Despite the fact I’m stiff and sore, I’m not in chronic pain. On every day the sun shines, so every night I pray that I might see the morning light and live another day.”

“I want to hear her laugh. To watch sunbeams awaken her visage and shine through her eyes. To see the gray clouds of regret that hang heavy over her head rain away to nothing. I want to hear her sunny voice dance on the breeze, as light and free as glossy bubbles, floating up…up…up to pop like hiccups. I want to know the type and form of key I must cut to unshackle even a portion of her joy. If I could pluck the winning feather; if my smile could convince; if I could stroke her vocal chords like harp strings and make each treble note ascend to euphoria. Oh, to hear the giggled melody she would release into a world craving the balm of mirth! I ache to experience that. I am desperate for it. I live for the day I hear her laugh.”

“Dark feelings churn inside me, weighing my spirit as if gray clouds were emptying their cold, drenching contents into my being. I have endured such a storm for seasons now; it has blurred into years of miserable existence. I wonder a desperate thought: when will the rains cease? For surely they must. And if by some cruel twist of nature a forbidding storm can rage eternal, might an outside gust be powerful enough to blow it all past? Say yes. Oh please, say yes! Blow ferociously! Do not leave me doomed to a life drenched in the darkest feelings.”

“I hoped for a rose and got lilies. I hoped for the sun and got rain. I hoped for a cat and got puppies. I hoped for Brazil and got Spain. I hoped for a raise and got transferred. I hoped for northwest and got south. I hoped for ice cream and got yogurt. I hoped for a kiss on the mouth. I hoped for more time and got late fees. I hoped for a cruise, got a flight. I hoped for Poseidon, got Hades. I hoped for long days over nights. You may wonder why I keep hoping, As fruitless as it seems to be. But hope is a bow, not an arrow. Its release depends much upon me.”

“Hope is to fly with wings. It is a sword against the unpredictable, A bridge that traverses despairs. Hope is to leap with springs. It is a helmet to guard the vulnerable, A barge that floats o’er anxious cares. Hope is to spar with kings. It is a shield against the uncontrollable, A hedge that fences in nightmares.”

“I walk at night under a moonless sky. Only the terrain guides my steps, yet my footfall is as sure as if a dozen suns lit the way. I go to meet you under a leafless tree that never seems to grow or alter its shape. I am uncertain if it still lives or has learned to disguise its death. The same thought crosses my mind when I feel your cold fingers take my hand. It is not the tree I reflect upon. ‘Do you still love me?’ The words tumble clumsily out of the dark. Hesitation is its own answer, but I reply ‘I’m here’ anyway as if my words were whispered comfort and not a weathered blade. They are taken wrong. ‘I love you too.’ Your arms wrap me up and clamp tightly around my waist. An old, familiar kiss hardens my lips. I wonder why it is I return to this place every year where only memories remain fond. Perhaps it is because I keep hoping this leafless tree will either change or die.”

“My spirit mirrors the radiance of a clear, blue sky. With closed eyes I lift my face and smile, warmed from the core and from above. All hopes and dreams compete with this endless expanse of heaven, desiring the clock of eternity. I reach with my hands―frenziedly achieving―attempting to learn and do all. Yet I understand the humble truth; a drop of rain shall amount to my contribution among all the droplets in the vast ocean of human history. It is a pure and precious tear that seeps from my efforts....my existence. Taste how sweet! It is all that I have, given willingly.”

“I scared a little porcupine and caught a quill in my behind. It hurt so badly in my tail, but tugging on it made me yell. The porcupine was still around, so I complained. He simply frowned and said, "Stop whining! Look and see how many quills are stuck on me!”

“Love is my heart swelling at the thought of you, a smile produced by your image. Love is my hand reaching to take hold of yours, a bond secured by your promise. Love is my soul choosing to be one with you, a life enhanced by your presence.”

“I slay dragons at night while you sleep. I see by the way your face contorts how they exist in your dreams. Willing a magic sword, I plunge into your deepest nightmares and swing at the beasts with all my might, dodging flames exhaled by monsters that would eat me alive to go on torturing the fair one I love. I see your face relax, eyes still drowsily closed, when the mighty dragon is slain. It may be that my fingers rub soft circles on your forehead as I imagine my brave fight as a knight reclaiming your dreams. You smile under the spell of my touch, and I am rewarded. And so, my love, as I await the dawn, I stand ready to slay dragons while you sleep.”

“A dragon grows in leaps and bounds, Like troubles mounting by the pound. Its stature heightens day to day, Imposing dread and deep dismay. A paralyzing roar it gains While from its snout hot fire rains. It sees you shrink. Your fear it knows. And by the hour the nightmare grows. Unless you slay the dragon soon, Your troubles may become your doom.”

“Lavender lilies all dotted with spots. Sun-yellow daffodils clustered in pots. Blue morning-glories climb trellises high. Powder-white asters like stars in the sky. Thick, pink peonies unfold in the sun. Winter adieu now that spring has begun.”

“Sound. Noise the air employs. Melodies sweet. Tweet, tweet, tweet. Soft. Loud. A roaring crowd. Cluck. Caw. Crow. Tet, tet. Tis, tis. Guttural growl. Harrowing howl. Drip, drip, drip. Tap, tap, tap. Moan and groan. Endless drone. Ding, dang, dong. A church bell song. Vibrations in my ear to hear. Sound.”

“Magic Words" "Silly words cause trills because they're ludicrous and funny. Happy words paint endless smiles and swallow troubles whole. Thoughtful words are thus because they make the day feel sunny. But hurtful words are such that pierce the heart and weigh the soul.”

“Besides the daydreaming and getting lost in a fun story, my favorite thing about writing is the creation process. I find it both thrilling and addictive. As a writer, I form everything in my head before describing it in words: people, worlds, cultures, music, dialogue, relationships, and so on. The possibilities of creation are limitless for a writer, and that is the allure.”

“On Hallows Eve, we witches meet to broil and bubble tasty treats like goblin thumbs with venom dip, crisp bat wings, and fried fingertips. We bake the loudest cackle crunch, and brew the thickest quagmire punch. Delicious are the rotting flies when sprinkled over spider pies. And, my oh my, the ogre brains all scrambled up with wolf remains! But what I love the most, it’s true, are festered boils mixed in a stew. They cook up oh so tenderly. It goes quite well with mugwort tea. So don’t be shy; the cauldron’s hot. Jump in! We witches eat a lot!”

“Oh, Man in the Moon" "Oh, man in the moon, send an evening star to wink at my dreary eyes, and I shall make a wish for a peaceful world that spins with no more lies. Oh, man in the moon, send the night's cool breeze to lull my leery heart, and I shall cast my fears to the wind with ease, and watch them all depart. Oh, man in the moon, send the sandman's dust to rest my weary soul, and I shall slumber in happy dreams until the morning bells do toll.”

“Before the Dawn In the darkest night the sun may seem like an extinguished match or an ember drowned by rain. A light forever lost. The cold world grows steadily colder and shrinks like the abused, closing in on all sides. Laughter, smiles, the glimmer of dancing eyes, and all else indicative of human brightness is gone. Colors leeched from everything leave shadows and emotion dull-gray in their absence. Time is a void. A moment feels eternal. Hope does not blossom in the darkness but withers fast, starving for what only the sun can offer. As its petals turn to dust, fear blows in and sweeps the remnants away. The soul succumbs by degrees to nightmares emboldened by the dead of night. All is lost! All is lost! The wretched sun, repulsed by our nothingness, has abandoned the lives in its care! And then the eyes open wide, seeing mountains take shape on the horizon.”

“May I have a piece of peace? Or a portion of your calm? May I borrow restful quiet? Or a moment without qualm? May I share in your tranquility? I feel I’ve no recourse. Oh, my friend, for inner peace, God is the only source.”