9 Quotes by Marilyn Velez

All I have is this pale image of a clouded dream that could never be real, and I can’t seem to move on. She had this wild laugh about her, and it was special, you know… it was rare, it was different, and it was mine, and I can’t find it anywhere… because it’s gone. She was special, she was different, and different is hard to find.

Mad? If it’s madness that drives me to love you, then I’m mad and unsound, because I’ll never stop loving you.

Why must thou torment me so? For even the face of an angel lies. Skin as sweet as honey that smells of roses. Oh! Do away with this life and let death be the cause of it. Kill me now and end my suffering! For all the glory in the world is nothing without thy breath.

In the measure of a day, I heard the music play, and from afar, I watched its beauty unfurl. Its burbling streams, I heard. Its crinkled leaves, I saw. Its salted air whirled against grasses’ virescent and tall, and from a distance, the birds carried a tune, of a dance I knew.

Long and white was his hair, like the mountains of the north, with a towering beard that had aged with time. Shrouded was his cloak, and of yew was his staff, and atop his head, a braided crown made of silver decorated it. Wrapped around his furrow neck, hung a horn, and perched high atop his olden shoulders, rested two ravens resembling the color of a wave’s crest. From the book Tundra: A Wanderer's Tale into Darkness

One dark night, a venomous serpent slithered through the shadows, stinging Klugonus, and although the gods made him immortal, he could feel himself dying. It was painful, and more than flesh and blood can bear. He knew he would never recover, and so the angels granted him a place in the stars, and when it shines its brightest, you know it’s him, crying from the excruciating pain.

Enraptured by an aberration of beauty, I cannot move. I find myself helpless against a woman whose pale lips sing to me. Every note, every hymn that escapes those lips, I want to hear like a story being told to a child. I want to listen to its crinkled page as it turns, but more so, I desired this creature before me.

Man spoke of great terror and suffering, of nightmares and despair, of blood and death, but never of the possibility of hope or dreams. Tundra: A Wanderer's Tale into Darkness- The Tundra Tales

Tales spoke of the men in cages, whose tormented cries lingered through the night, haunting one’s mind for a hundred days and nights.