Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Twine
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Disillusion can become itself an illusion.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Death walks faster than the wind and never returns what he has taken.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Filled to the brim with dangerous thoughts & nowhere to put them since she lives in a small town & everybody's always watching.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Bundled.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
... At the very zenith of complexity, complexity was eaten up and faded, as a thin white cloud fades into the hard blue burning of sky ...
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
They don't have very long memories, so every morning seems like a miracle.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
... So that all its shy presence may haunt you and possess you in a reverie of suspended thought.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
No man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I pictured her, barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor. She will look in at me with arms extended, offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Be still
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Tail end
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Caught
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Opening a door to the mysteries, hoping to shed a little dark on all the stuff we think we know.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Disappearing
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Why is it that men can be bastards and women must wear pearls and smile?
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
What if I should fall right through the center of the earth ... oh, and come out the other side, where people walk upside down.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Altering life by holding it still
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Your real boss is the one who walks around under your hat.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
The creative act lasts but a brief moment, a lightning instant of give-and-take, just long enough for you to level the camera and to trap the fleeting prey in your little box.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Kiss the sky
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Sometimes I feel this summer as if I were walking through the green meadow again; idly, aimlessly, unthinking, and unguided.