literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
The Grove
The boy whips a green hickory nut across the shaded yard, and Dog—a hundred and ten pounds of furred muscle— launches after it. His little sister laughs at the rooster tail of sand thrown by the dog’s hind feet. The boy shushes. The little girl claps both hands over her mouth.
By Steven Thomas Howell5 years ago in Humans
Common Sense
Socrates strolled down the sidewalks of his city, his flowing scarlet robes and eagle’s nest of gray hair an irresistible magnet for the youth of Harlem. Everyone knew him, but not everyone loved him. While his learned way of discourse was known to snap a ruffian out of delinquency or a depressive out self-denigrating slumber, there were those who saw him as a fraud, a charlatan, a poseur. In fact, very few people could grok what he was saying as he spoke in riddles and metaphors and cited obscure facts that were hard to believe. Many tuned him out. Those who stayed the course with him were said to have found new freedom in their personal lives. Being a law student at Columbia who had been tethered to formal education for most of my life, I felt I was lacking something, but didn’t know what that something was.
By Banning Lary5 years ago in Humans
A Flute Of Merlot
His name was Willow Smithers, a strong Scotsman. He stood over the grave of his late wife, Molly, shoveling in dirt atop her casket. He did this with a heart heavy with sorrow, each shovelful signifying a farewell. He wasn't rich, but he scraped together enough money to give her a proper send off.
By Robert Niemski5 years ago in Humans
Mister Red
Mister Red By Lori Jean Phipps Glass of Rodney Strong Merlot 2015 in one hand, Marianne Williamson’s self-help book A Return to Love in the other with the hit pop song “Red, Red Wine” by UB40 unobtrusively playing in the background, sitting in a chaise lounge chair wearing a luxurious red and white polka dot dress feeling at peace and relishing the warm eighty-nine-degree sun beating down on my face. I had just finished reading an intense chapter on metaphysics and the last sentence was lingering in my mind: “Our devotion then becomes our work, and our work becomes our devotion.”
By Lori Jean Phipps5 years ago in Humans
Mister Red
Mister Red By Lori Jean Phipps Glass of Rodney Strong Merlot 2015 in one hand, Marianne Williamson’s self-help book A Return to Love in the other with the hit pop song “Red, Red Wine” by UB40 unobtrusively playing in the background, sitting in a chaise lounge chair wearing a luxurious red and white polka dot dress feeling at peace and relishing the warm eighty-nine-degree sun beating down on my face. I had just finished reading an intense chapter on metaphysics and the last sentence was lingering in my mind: “Our devotion then becomes our work, and our work becomes our devotion.”
By Lori Jean Phipps5 years ago in Humans
Him
Have you ever fallen in love with another soul while holding hands with your partner? No, I'm not talking about the cheap kind of love which makes you cheat your partner, but a reverential admiration that evokes emotions deep inside from within you. And, knowing that you may never be able to reciprocate your love but confine it in the cellars of your heart along with other prisoners? I had one such moment.
By vaisrinivasan5 years ago in Humans
BLIND DATE FROM HELL
Many times had she said the last date was a date from hell and she meant it. She thought the dates she went on went from mildly disturbing to straight out of the depths of hell. Not just because one or two had a mild smell of sulphur like rotten eggs and smelly feet. Some had volcanic acne covering their faces and others had breathe like something that had died several weeks earlier, been buried in a shallow grave and been dug up by a curious dog.
By Taras Voevodin5 years ago in Humans
