sola

“On city harp strings ‘neath cotton ball clouds,
Pigeon to pigeon their stories they sing,
Wafting flocks gather in soft, cooing crowds;
Amid rush traffic, a prelude to spring,
One with their nature, harmony within,
Above street clatter, perched, resting their bones,
Primed for the vernal bounty to begin,
Soothing the clamor with light, dulcet tones;
Whiffs of smog-filled drafts like bellows pulse through,
Unfazed are they by our mad world of haste,
The calm bevy awaits winter’s adieu,
Unconsumed by thoughts of no time to waste,
Nature presides with unshakable pride,
The seasons shall turn with a feather’s glide.”
― Marie Helen Abramyan

“I have had a long life, I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now living.”
― George Orwell, Animal Farm

“If yes is no and once is never, then how many sides does a triangle have?”
― Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Inheritance Games

“I looked out through the narrow door. The traffic ceaselessly passed; men and women hurried along with set faces. Phantasms of horror, all of them: infernal realms wherein they dwelt. Outside, men lived under the tyranny of things. Their every action was determined by the orders of mere matter, by money, and the tools of their trade and the unthinking laws of habit and convention. But here I seemed to be safe from things, living at a remove from actuality; here where a bearded old man, improbable survival from some other time, indomitably played the music of romance, despite the fact that the phantasms of horror might occasionally drown the sound of it with their clamour.”
― Aldous Huxley, The Bookshop