The story is amazing, and so is the writing. The words flow; and the characters know only as much as they should. Will I ever become as good as this? The plot flies by, paragraph by paragraph, page by page, and my eyes skim the chapters with such intensity(more) that I have to lean back a little and shut my aching eyes for a moment. In no time at all, I’m back at it, scaring the words out of their dark corner and into the sunshine. I can’t help but be glad there is still another page after this one. (less)
In a sonata, the development is the part when life gets interesting and things begin to change. The key changes and there are plot changes, all carefully placed between a theme and its reiteration, the lifeline to the piece. Chord progressions shift with ever-changing moods, feeling through a blindfold for(more) the feelings of the one who plays…feelings wrapped up in the story the artist is continually constructing—my own. Music is a blind element. There’s only so much I can portray of the conflict, plot, and resolution: small touches from my heart and small sounds flying from my crying soul. (less)
I’m livin’ life on the edge, excited for each minute, and always ready for somethin’ new. My humdrum life would be in danger of becomin’ monotonous if I did not do so, ‘cause I’m tryin’ to live life like there’s not enough time—it’s not hard. There really isn’t enough(more) time to do everythin’ I want to accomplish.
My friends sometimes say, “I can’t wait for this week to be over,” and then this week ends, and the next is still the same.
I’m just livin’ life on the edge, ‘cause the next excitin’ twist is just a minute away.
From inside the warm cloud of air, you watch the outside of the windowpanes. Fog blurs the cold shapes and colors moving past in the background. You’re protected from the falling rain, but somehow it tears at your heart: no matter how warm it is inside, you still feel(more) the distant chill trying to invade and possess you. Try to forget the past; it won’t happen. The raindrops will just keep chasing each other down your windowpane like the troubles chase each other one by one. Like the tears chasing each other down your face until they are all gone. (less)