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Quote by Robert Aickman

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The Wine-Dark Sea

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Robert Aickman
Robert Aickman

Robert Aickman was an English writer known for his supernatural and horror fiction. His works, often set in the English countryside, combined elements of the supernatural with complex human psychology. more

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“Saddle horses lined the hitching-rails as far as Brite could see. Canvas-covered wagons, chuck-wagons, buckboards, vehicles of all Western types, stood outside the saddle horses. And up one side and down the other a procession ambled in the dust. On the wide sidewalk a throng of booted, belted, spurred men wended their way up or down. The saloons roared. Black-sombreroed, pale-faced, tight-lipped men stood beside the wide portals of the gaming-dens. Beautiful wrecks of womanhood, girls with havoc in their faces and the look of birds of prey in their eyes, waited in bare-armed splendor to be accosted. Laughter without mirth ran down the walk. The stores were full. Cowboys in twos and threes and sixes trooped by, young, lithe, keen of eye, bold of aspect, gay and reckless. Hundreds of cowboys passed Brite in that long block from the hotel to the intersecting street. And every boy gave him a pang. These were the toll of the trail and of Dodge. It might have been the march of empire, the tragedy of progress, but it was heinous to Brite. He would never send another boy to his death.”

DeathHumanityThe American WestCattle DriveFrailty Of Life
Book:The Trail Driver: A Western Story
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“Often feelings of shame, powerlessness, and self-hate are bottled up with the memories, and as the memories come through, these feelings do, too. Yet healing isn't just about pain. It's about learning to love yourself.”

HealingShameAbuse SurvivorsSurvivorsPowerlessnessSelf HateHate MyselfHealing AbuseChild Sexual Abuse Survivors
Book:The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse
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“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When this blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, through the night. Then the traveller in the dark Thanks you for your tiny spark; He could not see where to go, If you did not twinkle so. In the dark blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep, For you never shut your eye Till the sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveller in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star. HQcJDhGqBp0”

Twinkle Twinkle
Author:Twinkle Twinkle
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“A week later, Stanton walked into the fire. Sparks cascaded around him and formed a crown in his hair without burning. The cold blaze lashed around him, etching a frosty crystalline pattern of his arms and face. He stared at the other members of the Inner Circle through the veil of flames as the fire burned his mortality away and he became an Immortal again. Their eyes looked more pleased than angry, more content than covetous. Stanton had destroyed the traitor Lambert, and the Atrox was pleased. The fire became a maelstrom, shrieking up to the heavens in triumph. The crown of burning embers stayed on his head. Bits of fire showered the night and formed a pathway toward the blaze. Three of the highest-ranking members stepped slowly forward along the fiery path, carrying a cloak spun of black, silky threads. Together they spread the fabric and set the cloak over Stanton's shoulders. He stared at the emblem, surprised by what he had been given. He smiled, satisfied, and knew that Jimena's final premonition had come true. Only one was allowed to wear this crest. It was the highest honor given by the Atrox; two hands holding the eternal flame of evil. Stanton understood its significance. He had once been destined to be a prince. Now he was Prince of the Night.”

CoronationStantonCrown PrincePrince Of Darkness
Book:The Sacrifice
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