6 Quotes Tagged: beautiful-writing

A heavy snow fell outside. In a symbolic kind of way, snow was to Chicago what cotton was to Mississippi. It blanketed the land. It was inevitable. Both were so much a part of the landscape of either place that where you saw snow you by definition would not see cotton and vice versa. Coming to Chicago was a guarantee that you would not be picking cotton. The people sitting at the dining room table this late winter night had chosen snow over cotton.

When farmer Oak smiled, the corners of his mouth spread, till they were within an unimportant distance of his ears, his eyes were reduced to mere chinks, and diverging wrinkles appeared round them, extending upon his countenance like the rays in a rudimentary sketch of the rising sun.

A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down the river.

Never miss an opportunity of noticing anything of beauty ...

There are exactly as many special occasions in life as we choose to celebrate.

For the moment I can think of nothing — except that I am a sentient being stabbed by the miracle of these waters that reflect a forgotten world.