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Quote by Cagla Meydan

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Journey to Red Dawn: The Torch of Life

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Cagla Meydan

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“The monk wakes from a dream into a world of mists and thunderclouds. The clouds play children's games with him. They show him dissolving images of yaks and sheep, serpents and hawks, angels and dragons. He closes his eyes and the clouds count to ten. He opens his eyes and they look for him.”

PhilosophyInspirational QuotesSpiritualityLife QuotesJourneySelf AwarenessMetaphysicalLiterary FictionSpiritual FictionHeroes Journey
Book:Painted Oxen
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“Without question, I felt an unnatural presence looming somewhere within the walls of my bedroom. I gradually began to recognize that the manifestation was speaking to me as if I were an acquaintance. His manner was quite affable as he appealed to me to stay calm and listen attentively to his message. He requested that I focus my vision straight ahead into the darkness and then close my eyes. When he gave the signal, I needed to slowly reopen my eyes to witness him visually. The signal was perceptually vague, but I received it. When I opened my eyes, I knew someone was sharing my room with me, but I had no idea who. I couldn’t identify the barely-perceptible image of a human form floating buoyantly at the foot of my bed.”

FictionFantasyScience FictionHistorical FictionSpiritual Fiction
Book:A Lesser God: Reason Else Demise
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“I know, Mom, and I promise you, I will always be there for you whenever you need me, I pledge this to you. You need to go to bed now; you have to be up early. Good night, Mom.” She wiped a tear out of her eye as she looked lovingly at me. She cracked a truthful, delicate smile as she walked toward her bedroom. I might have been wrong, but it seemed to be a smile born out of relief.”

FictionFantasyScience FictionHistorical FictionSpiritual Fiction
Book:A Lesser God: Reason Else Demise
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“Gentlemen,” he said, and the word cut neat and cool through the lingering noise. “We are gathered to bind the fates of our states together, not with mere treaties, but with the iron certainty of a road.” A breath. A rustle of shirt cuffs. “Not a rut through the mud, not a track for cattle,” he continued, “but a grand artery. A marvel worthy of the Republic. From Baltimore to the west, to the frontier and the territories beyond—where commerce may flow, and with it, the lifeblood of our nation.”

LegacyHistorical FictionRemembranceWomen S FictionEmotional HealingPoetic ProseGhost StorySpiritual FictionPennsylvania HistoryAppalachian Folklore
Book:Mountain Laurel
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