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Quote by Maria Ingrande Mora

“Tinkering had always come easily to Nate, but he'd never done it like this. Severed a thin wire, a warm thread between his heart and another. It hurt far more than being bitten by the jagged edge of a live wire.”

Quote by Maria Ingrande Mora

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Maria Ingrande Mora

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“The Poetry that Searches Poetry that paints a portrait in words, Poetry that spills the bottled emotions, Gives life to the feelings deep inside, Breaks through all the times wept, To sweep you in a whirling ecstatic delight. The chiseled marble of language, The paint spattered canvas, Where colors flow through words, Where emotions roll on a canvas, And it all begins with you. The canvas that portrays the trembling you, Through the feelings that splash, Through the words that spatter, All over the awaiting canvas. Such is the painting sketched with passion, Colored with the heart's unleashed emotions. The poetry that reads your trembling heart, The poetry that feeds the seed of your dreams, That poetry that reveals light within rain, Takes you to a place where beauty lies in stain. The poetry that whispers- "May you find the stars, in a night so dark, May you find the moon, so rich with silver, May you sip the madness and delight In a night berserk with a wailing agony". Such words that arise from spilling emotions, So recklessly you fall, in love with life again. So, you rise shedding your fears, To chase after your dreams, As you hear thunder in the rain, That carries your pain, Through the painting of words, colored with courage, Splashed with ferocity, amidst the lost battles. Such is the richest color splash in words, Laid down on papers, that stayed so empty, For ages and ages. At times, you may feel lost, Wandering homeless in the woods, But poetry that you write, To drink the moonlight and madness, Poetry that you spill on a canvas with words, Calls you to fall, for life again. The words that evoke the intense emotions, The painting that gives the richest revelation, The insight that deepens in a light so streaming, Is the poetry that reveals the truth and beauty, In a form so elemental, in a way so searching, For a beauty so emotive, Which trembles, With the poetry's deepest digging. The words that take your eyes to sleep, The poetry that stills your raging feelings, Is the portrait of words that carries you, In emotions bottled within, held so deep, For an era so long. Forgotten they seemed, yet they arose, With the word's deepest calling, To the soul sleeping inside. The poetry that traces your emotions with words, Is a poetry that traces your soul with its lips, To speak a language that your heart understands. The Ecstatic Dance of Soul Copyright 2020 Jayita Bhattacharjee”

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Author:Jayita Bhattacharjee
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“The woman hangs from the 13th floor window crying for the lost beauty of her own life. She sees the sun falling west over the grey plane of Chicago. She thinks she remembers listening to her own life break loose, as she falls from the 13th floor window on the east side of Chicago, or as she climbs back up to claim herself again.”

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“A vida dela até aquele momento tinha parecido tão original, um conto tecido elegantemente, com um elenco brilhante de personagens - ela: a princesa sem mãe de um palácio vertical, o apartamento de quatro andares na Ilha Victoria; eles: amigos fervorosos e glamurosos de seu pai, os empregados; ele: o rei viúvo do castelo. Se tivesse tido uma morte apropriada à vida deles como ela a conhecia - em um acidente de carro, por exemplo, em seu amado Deux Chevaux, ou de câncer de fígado ou pulmão, até o fim fumando Caos e engolindo rum -, ela poderia ter tolerado a perda. Teria ficado em luto. Teria se descoberto uma órfã em um apartamento de quatro andares, depois de perder ambos os pais aos treze anos, mas teria sido, enlutada dessa forma, uma coisa que ela reconheceria (trágica) em vez daquilo que se tornou: uma parte da história (genérica).”

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“After the adrenaline of the disaster has passed and we face the dreariness of loss, despair lurks around the corner. Unable to attribute our misfortune to random chance, we wonder what we did wrong. Homes gone, dependent on the goodwill of strangers, fearing financial ruin perhaps with loved ones killed, we look for someone to blam, we turn to the outsider. A disaster can alter the behavior of the individual, like one who is part of a mob, divorcing us from our moral compass. We must remember the most dangerous threat in a disaster is the threat to our humanity.”

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Book:The Big Ones: How Natural Disasters Have Shaped Us and What We Can Do about Them
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