Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Kristen Henderson, Of My Maiden Smoking

Quote by Kristen Henderson, Of My Maiden Smoking

“I dream for an absentee and oft maligned device—the accident-maker, the soul-taker, my camera; its factory guaranteed third eye, without which I am duly dim and memory denied. No pictures for my contrived Arbus to declare, excepting some stitch of Sexton manages these sentences of despair.”

Quote by Kristen Henderson, Of My Maiden Smoking

Create image

Author

Kristen Henderson, Of My Maiden Smoking

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Kristen Henderson, Of My Maiden Smoking. more

You May Also Like

“Keep running; keep dreaming, keep alive the flame of hope; defeat and despair will not catch up with you”

DreamSuccessHopeWinningPositivePositive ThinkingSucceedDespairSuccess QuotesDefeatPositive AttitudePositive QuotesSuccessful PeoplePositive ThoughtsDreams QuotesDream BigHope QuotesWinPositive OutlookSuccessful LivingPositive MindsetSuccess StrategiesPositive Thinking QuotesPositive MotivationWinning And LosingThe Great Pearl Of WisdomWinning AttitudeWinnersBangambiki HabyarimanaPositive ThoughtWinners MentalityCreate Your RealityYou Are PowerfulCreate Your LifeWinning MentalitySucceeding In LifeSuccess QuoteCreate Your FutureYou Are GreatYou Are The UniverseSucceedingDefeat QuotesWinning In LifeWinners And LosersDespair QuotesCreate Your WorldSucceededSucceedsWinning From WithinWinning The GameAll Is YoursDreaming QuotesWinning GoalYou Are A GodWinning From With InYou Create Things By Your Mouth
Book:Pearls Of Eternity
Create image

“Turn it beautiful. His words came faintly at first, but they came again and again, always softly, always with the insistence of an elder commanding wisdom. Turn it all to beauty. She walked to the rail. When she turned and sat upon it, she heard a sailor in the crowd murmur that she might play them a tune. She hoped he was right. She needed the voices to be wrong. Fin raised the instrument to the cleft of her neck and closed her eyes. She emptied her mind and let herself be carried back to her earliest memory, the first pain she ever knew: the knowledge that her parents didn’t want her. The despair of rejection coursed through her. It fathered a knot of questions that bound her, enveloped her. Waves of uncertainty and frailty shook her to the bones. Her body quivered with anger and hopelessness. She reeled on the edge of a precipice. She wanted to scream or to throw her fists but she held it inside; she struggled to control it. She fought to subjugate her pain, but it grew. It welled up; it filled her mind. When she could hold it no more, exhausted by defiance and wearied by years of pretending not to care, Bartimaeus’s words surrounded her. Got to turn it beautiful. She dropped her defenses. She let weakness fill her. She accepted it. And the abyss yawned. She tottered over the edge and fell. The forces at war within her raced down her arms and set something extraordinary in motion; they became melody and harmony: rapturous, golden. Her fingers coaxed the long-silent fiddle to life. They danced across the strings without hesitation, molding beauty out of the miraculous combination of wood, vibration, and emotion. The music was so bright she felt she could see it. The poisonous voices were outsung. Notes raged out of her in a torrent. She had such music within her that her bones ached with it, the air around her trembled with it, her veins bled it. The men around fell still and silent. Some slipped to the deck and sat enraptured like children before a travelling bard.”

PainSufferingBeautyMusicDespairDepressionRedemptionAbandonmentOrphanFiddle
Book:Fiddler's Green
Create image