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Susan L. Marshall Quotes

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Famous Susan L. Marshall Quotes

“As the sun continued to rise, the tune became more intoxicating, lulling me into a completely relaxed state. I allowed my mind to drift, imagining I was walking through a pretty meadow full of roses. In my mind’s eye, I held a rose flower in my hands and sniffed at it, my eyes shining with pure happiness. In my dreamy state, the air smelled of roses, warming my spirit and coaxing me to stop and rest. Lying back in the grass, I stretched my arms up to the sky, inviting the sun to join me. Warm tingles rippled across my skin and eased the pressure in my head. I was light, drifting through the breeze and letting the wind take me somewhere untouched and soothing.”

HappinessMusicMysterySafeRosesLiteraryChildhood MemoryBeauty Of NatureDay DreamingFlute
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“The wax of my single tallow candle has melted considerably and only a tiny spark of life remains in its fire. As I sit at this desk, its flailing light bewitches me. My hands are clutched tightly together, trying to summon my energy to regain my composure. Inside my heart, a deep sadness resides, creeping its way through my body. Lowering my hands to my womb, I feel a great sense of hollow emptiness. Once there sat a precious life, wrestling its way inside my being and sparking my heart with love and hope.”

GriefMysteryLonelinessLetterLiteraryEpistolaryEmpressFading LightLove And HopeFemale Sadness
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“The Emperor likes to keep an eye on all mail sent from the palace and so he does not approve of the use of envelopes. So I have learned how to employ the ancient art of letter locking: delicately folding and slitting sections of the letter and gluing them down with adhesive where necessary. I feel a lightness of life to know that my words in this letter are sealed away and will only be revealed to you.”

MysteryLonelinessSecretsLetterLiteraryEpistolaryEmpressAncient Letter ArtLetter Locking
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“Father reaches out to touch my scarf. “Your mother’s scarf,” he says softly. “She loved this so very much, you know. I remember her creative streak, how she refused to use the strong dye colours that we usually use for silk design. Instead, she preferred a shade of white, which would not sell as successfully in trade. She loved this scarf, the way it sat humbly around her neck and gave her senses of comfort and peace as she held you tight. You would often beg to wear it, Aisha.” I stroke the scarf subconsciously. A memory flashes in my mind of my mother’s shaking hands as she shaped spun silk into this beautiful scarf. My gentle mother, who coughed violently and shook, plagued she was with an illness that had deteriorated her immensely. I spent every moment I could with her, my heart knowing that each might be my last. “Beautiful Aisha, wear this scarf with your love,” said my mother one morning as she tied it around my neck. I stared at her, my lips wobbling as tears rolled down my cheeks. “I’ll wear it, always loving you, Mother,” I replied. My mother nodded, her eyes also filling with tears as she realised that I understood how little time we had left together.”

LoveFamilyMysterySilkLiteraryEpistolaryMother Daughter BondSilk TradeHeritage Silk Scarf
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“Unfurl my body, wind, lift me up into the branches of a majestic beauty that guides a people through life. I would sway with you, branches, taking that journey across the ages. Tossing my own mane of leaves through the quiet, awaiting air. Silently, I choose to engage with your wisdom.”

WisdomSongMysteryMetaphorLiterarySpiritual ConnectionNature ConnectionForest ConservationMajestic TreesSilk Trade Route
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“Gusts of fiery winds blow, blasting a furnace of heat. The air rings with the shrill screams of my beloved carnations. Rising and falling, they shed their flower heads upon the worn, foot trodden dirt. Staring up, their heads smile sadly, their petals shedding tears. Rolling across the planks, they reach out for me. The carnation flower's scent is fragrant in the breeze. It wakes me so I escape the dark world of dreams.”

EnvironmentMysteryMetaphorFlowersConservationNature S BeautySpiritual ConnectionDark DreamsNatural SpiritCarnation Scent
Book:Fleur of Yesterday
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“Old, yet beloved to my family, the cart is marked with the prints and sweat of our ancestors, who began our journeys in trade. I carry our world in this cart, wares we have taken ages to create. Foraging through earth and trees to source our natural ingredients. Wares I push with deep pride, along the sloping, uneven terrain. I can travel further with the cart and expand my avenues for trade.”

MysteryPoemLiteraryAncestorsEpistolaryWaresHeritage TradeCarrying Our WorldHeritage CartNatural Ingredients
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“Stepping forward, Girl stares out the doorway, into the sun. “I used to tread the world freely in Mira,” she smiles gently. “My feet would feel the bare earth sifting its way between my toes. I’d push a cart full of wares, hearing it roll along the bumpy terrain, catching stones and flicking them up into the air.”

MemoriesMysteryLiteraryNature ConnectionSeeking RefugeDesire For FreedomSilk Merchant
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“Pressing my nails firmly into the bark of the tree, I watch as a silhouette reveals itself in the moonlight. Tall and built, the human frame enters the clearing that I stand in. My eyes are immediately drawn to the breathtaking sight of his face. I am familiar with those deep brown eyes, which draw me gently towards him. I let him pull me into his warm embrace. “Kirano!” I breathe, pressing my head against his regal blue jacket. I can hear his heart beating rapidly with excitement. “Aisha,” Kirano’s voice is as soothing as I remember. Looking up, I see his warm, adoring smile. “I see that you tied your favourite silk scarf to the tree.”

RomanceNightMysteryAttractionForestLiteraryEpistolaryJournal EntryRomantic Rendezvous
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“One night, we workers formed a circle around the tallow candle as it burned, allowing each other to bond by holding hands. It felt strange to connect with fellow people from Mira again. We have all become estranged from each other as we slave away for the woman leader. In our circle, we closed our eyes and prayed. I pictured the streets of Mira, adorned with the rugged rawness of our original footprints. We once stepped together or passed each other by, busy but comfortable with our work in various trades. Now we are anonymous, our identities stripped away from us.”

PrayerMysteryLiteraryEstrangementDesire For FreedomForced Labour
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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