The phrase he liked to use — and in fact did use — corny and clichéd though it was, was “Love of my life.” To her face. During introductions. When talking about her. And the strange thing was that those who heard him say it thought it neither corny nor clichéd, for he meant it so well.
They had come together, quite literally collided, at the corner of Avenue of the Americas and West 14th Street, neither looking to see where they were going. She was coming down West 14th Street with a bag of groceries in her arms and…
Lance first saw Norton’s Rock, not as an island, but as a glow over the far horizon ahead. It was their fourth day airborne and dawn was barely a blush behind them when Widewing said: “There.”
He looked beyond the bird’s smoothly sculpted head, but saw nothing but the first blush of dawn.
“No,” said Widewing, “Not the dawn. The dawn rises behind us.”
And yes, Widewing was right. Blue of night was fading into green and pink behind them. “Two dawns?” he said.
“Home,” said Widewing.
“Your home shines?”
“With a thousand birds.”
“How I shall admire, how laugh, how rejoice, how exult, when I behold so many proud monarchs, and fancied gods, groaning in the lowest abyss of darkness; so many magistrates who persecuted the name of the Lord, liquefying in fiercer fires than they ever kindled against the Christians.” Tertullian, 160–225 AD
“Here there is no hope, and consequently no duty, no work, nothing to be gained by praying, nothing to be lost by doing what you like. Hell, in short, is a place where you have nothing to do but amuse yourself.” Bernard Shaw 1856–1950
“I dreamed I was awakening…
In July of 1958, while visiting my friend Åke and his family in Stockholm, I broke my right arm.
A covey of pre-teen boys, me included, were macho-ing (swinging) across a narrow and shallow crevice on a rope tied to a branch high above and spanning the crevice — hanging down from it for us to grab as we leaped. It was a thick rope, sturdy and dry and hard — if not impossible — to miss, unless you meant to. …
The New Oxford American Dictionary defines the verb intend as “have (a course of action) as one’s purpose or objective; plan.” Aim, or mean to, would be good synonyms, and as for intention, goal and objective would both serve well.
Of course, underlying, and a wiser sibling to intention is motivation, the why you want to arrive at the what or where.
As a writer, I think motivation and intention go hand in hand — why the writer writes.
Some writers write to educate, others write to entertain, others write to proselytize, other write to talk down to, others write…
This should have surprised him.
The large bird looked at him with eyes so brown they were almost black. Lance could make out no pupils within those pools, no darker within dark, as if each eye were all pupil, pure door to the bird within.
“I have come to fetch you,” said the bird.
Then surprise finally caught up with Lance. “You can see me?” he said.
“Yes,” said the bird.
“Plain as a beacon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh yes, you shine,” he answered. “I saw you from over many horizons. First as a…
After much haggling and some give and take (the give mainly — actually, I’d go so far as to say exclusively — provided by God), He finally relented: “All right, all right,” He said (twice — so four “all rights” in toto), all right (a fifth) we could leave if we wanted if we really wanted. He sighed as he said this.
This is how:
For a fully comfortable and thoughtless (as in no thoughts at all, not even a micro-one) sixty seconds do not breath in.
Then, slowly expel this new air while intending, wholeheartedly…