Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Leap, and the net will appear.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Bittersweet October.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Quiet spaces.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
He ploughs the waves, sows the sand, and hopes to gather the wind in a net, who places his hopes in the heart of a woman.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Daydreamer.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Life is a tide.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Life is simple, it's just not easy.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
My soul is in the sky.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Live in rooms full of light.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
I don't belong to any generation.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
The secret is not in your hand or your eye or your voice. The secret is in your heart. Of course, she said, knowing that doesn't make it any easier.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Summer isn't a time.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
All that glitters.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Wrapped up in you.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
This is a creature on fire with love, but it's still scary since most people think love only looks like one thing, instead of the whole world.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
The day is dawning.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
To the top of the world.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
We are born believing.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
It's hardest to love the ordinary things, she said, but you get lots of opportunities to practice.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Not a red rose or a satin heart. I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love ...
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
Bright eyes.
Rebecca Tabor Armstrong:
I cannot say where you are. Unreachable by prayer, even if poems are prayers. Unseeable in the air, even if souls are stars.
