1,486 Quotes About Richelle-goodrich

Maybe there is no such thing as success—a final destination where you arrive once and for all. Maybe existence is a never-ending journey of peaks and valleys and forever chasing dreams.

Laughing in my ear is a muse amused by how I paint her whims on paper with silly words.

Thanks, Ian, but sometimes there’s just nothing you can do.” Her feet moved forward again towards the center of Lacsar Forest. “That’s not true, Eena. I can always listen.

Hey, guard!” Ian hollered out loud. “Do you think we could get a bathroom break?” The guard seemed to snicker as he pointed to the grass outside the cell. Eena smirked at how dead-on her thoughts had been after all. “Come on,” Ian complained. “She can’t do that, she’s a girl.” The soldier smiled wryly, a shrug communicating his indifference. Eena laughed in her mind. (I don’t know what you think’s so funny. You’re the one who’s gotta pee.) Oddly enough, that fact just made her laugh even more.

Mr. Cat and Mr. Dog were neighbors who fought like, well, cats and dogs. That is until Mr. Rat moved in. It's fascinating how easily two enemies ally at the introduction of a third.

You and I were never meant to be together, but we are. Our pairing is not unlike two electrons ignoring natural laws in order to orbit one another. Life now defies reason—quirky but beautiful.

Socially interacting with a storyteller can be a frustrating challenge because a portion of her awareness is constantly sorting through the details of a developing book. And while you may successfully engage in a meaningful conversation with her, an additional part of her mind is frantically sifting through descriptive lines to be used if ever she were to write this exchange down. The trouble with writers is that they are ALWAYS writing!

Rain is a lullaby heard through a thick, isolating blanket of clouds. It is the tinkling harp of water droplets; a moist breath whistling through willow reeds; a pattering beat background to the mourner's melody. Rain is a soft song of compassion for the brokenhearted.

I am, for the most part, who I am because my good mother was who she was.