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Quote by V.A. Pearson

“The month of August was upon them already. Where did the time go? The leaves were turning that special red—not a bright red or burgundy, an in-between red-and-orange. Other leaves were turning a beautiful golden shade. There was a splash of yellow leaves threading through the branches. Different variations of green leaves remained. The array of colour was breathtaking. Maple trees do not grow in England. What a pity, it is such a beautiful tree.”

Quote by V.A. Pearson

Book:The Unknown
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The Unknown

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V.A. Pearson

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“Unlike those terrible thrashing summer nights when the room is always too close to allow that final descent into oblivion, the cool winter nights afford me deep sleep and long, magical dreams. When I wake in the night, the dark seems more profound and velvety that usual, almost infinite. Winter is a season that invites me to rest well and feel restored, when I am allowed to retreat and be quietly separate.”

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“And so, Love was born. He started to wander the world, and one day met the Sea. The Sea was enchanted, and gave him his tenacity. He met the Universe, who gave him his mysteries. Then he met Time, who gave him eternity. And finally, he met Death. Death was fearsome, greater than the Sea, the Universe, and Time. He prepared to face him, but he gave him a light. 'What's this?' Love asked. 'It's hope,' Death replied. 'So I can see you from afar, and will always know you're on your way.”

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“Elysian Way by Stewart Stafford An eviction deadline decree, A woodpecker broadcast, Winter, the incoming actor, About to enter a clean stage. The powder blue sky framed, Fall's aurum, russet and ochre, Dripping opalescent raindrops, A red wedding's spangled confetti. Leaves shushed and shimmered, In moving vertical waves of surf, Trees shrugged slowly to begin, The organic haircut of the ages. Leaves plunged, spun and floated, Fallen comrades littered the grass, Half-assed, surprise resurrections, As swirling spectral mini vortexes. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”

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“She lives, but is not lively; awaiting the change of the seasons. A summer child, the old lady said. Summer children are filled with light. But my child will be born in March. A windswept, change-of-the-seasons child; sunny one day, in darkness the next. I feel that in her; that fugitive gleam, like sunlight on the ocean. And in my dreams I see her; always at five or six years old. Her hair is a tumbled candyfloss cloud. Her name comes in endless variants of my mother's name, Jeanne: Anne, Annette, Jeanette, Johanne, Jolène, Annie--- Anouk.”

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“Dark feelings churn inside me, weighing my spirit as if gray clouds were emptying their cold, drenching contents into my being. I have endured such a storm for seasons now; it has blurred into years of miserable existence. I wonder a desperate thought: when will the rains cease? For surely they must. And if by some cruel twist of nature a forbidding storm can rage eternal, might an outside gust be powerful enough to blow it all past? Say yes. Oh please, say yes! Blow ferociously! Do not leave me doomed to a life drenched in the darkest feelings.”

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Book:Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year
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