{"quotes":[{"text":"The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.","author":"James Joyce","tags":["ireland","irish","lyrical","sea"],"id":20455,"author_id":"James+Joyce"},{"text":"… in these new days and in these new pages a philosophical tradition of the spontaneity of speculation kind has been rekindled on the sacred isle of Éire, regardless of its creative custodian never having been taught how to freely speculate, how to profoundly question, and how to playfully define. Spontaneity of speculation being synonymous with the philosophical-poetic, the philosophical-poetic with the rural philosopher-poet, and by roundelay the rural philosopher-poet thee with the spontaneity of speculation be. And by the way of the rural what may we say? A philosopher-poet of illimitable space we say. Iohannes Scottus Ériugena the metaphor of old salutes you; salutes your lyrical ear and your skilful strumming of the rippling harp. (Source: Hearing in the Write, Canto 19, Ivy-muffled).","author":"Richard McSweeney","tags":["creative","custodian","eire","harp","ireland","irish","lyrical","metaphor","philosophical","poetic","rural","speculation","spontaneity","tradition"],"id":78145,"author_id":"Richard+McSweeney"},{"text":"Stacks on deckPatrone on iceAnd we can pop bottles all nightAnd baby you could have whatever you likeLate night sex so wet so tightI'll gas up a jet for you tonightAnd baby you could go where ever you like.","author":"T.I.","tags":["hiphop","lyrical","poetry","romance-hero-anthem","romantic"],"id":98017,"author_id":"T.I."},{"text":"Incredible. It is just incredible that you can notice something like that when your face is so cold you can't feel it anymore, and you know perfectly well you are surrounded by death, and the only way to stay alive is to endure the howling wind and hold your course. And still the sky is beautiful.","author":"Elizabeth Wein","tags":["beautiful","historical-fiction","inspirational","lyrical","world-war-ii"],"id":153388,"author_id":"Elizabeth+Wein"},{"text":"The full moon, well risen in a cloudless eastern sky, covered the high solitude with its light. We are not conscious of daylight as that which displaces darkness. Daylight, even when the sun is clear of clouds, seems to us simply the natural condition of the earth and air. When we think of the downs, we think of the downs in daylight, as with think of a rabbit with its fur on. Stubbs may have envisaged the skeleton inside the horse, but most of us do not: and we do not usually envisage the downs without daylight, even though the light is not a part of the down itself as the hide is part of the horse itself. We take daylight for granted. But moonlight is another matter. It is inconstant. The full moon wanes and returns again. Clouds may obscure it to an extent to which they cannot obscure daylight. Water is necessary to us, but a waterfall is not. Where it is to be found it is something extra, a beautiful ornament. We need daylight and to that extent it us utilitarian, but moonlight we do not need. When it comes, it serves no necessity. It transforms. It falls upon the banks and the grass, separating one long blade from another; turning a drift of brown, frosted leaves from a single heap to innumerable flashing fragments; or glimmering lengthways along wet twigs as though light itself were ductile. Its long beams pour, white and sharp, between the trunks of trees, their clarity fading as they recede into the powdery, misty distance of beech woods at night. In moonlight, two acres of coarse bent grass, undulant and ankle deep, tumbled and rough as a horse's mane, appear like a bay of waves, all shadowy troughs and hollows. The growth is so thick and matted that event the wind does not move it, but it is the moonlight that seems to confer stillness upon it. We do not take moonlight for granted. It is like snow, or like the dew on a July morning. It does not reveal but changes what it covers. And its low intensity---so much lower than that of daylight---makes us conscious that it is something added to the down, to give it, for only a little time, a singular and marvelous quality that we should admire while we can, for soon it will be gone again.","author":"Richard Adams","tags":["beauty","description","lyrical"],"id":180255,"author_id":"Richard+Adams"},{"text":"I am a tale, I am a book, written in different languages and styles I can’t be read, can’t be understood,neither by me nor the greatest of minds I am too big, I am too small, to be processed or seen by the naked eyeI am too dim, I am too bright, to appear in the shadows or the sunshine.","author":"Sanober Khan","tags":["bright","i-am","indian-","lyrical","poems","poetic","poetry","poetry-love","poetry","rhyming-verse","self-introspection","shadows","sunshine"],"id":250348,"author_id":"Sanober+Khan"},{"text":"Not a week after Annie put her foot in Mrs. Huffmaster's duff, the Captain upped and laid down the date.","author":"James McBride","tags":["humorous","lyrical","sound"],"id":254126,"author_id":"James+McBride"},{"text":"Calico KittyMy calico kittywas painted and primedshe could prowlthe night away ~without spending a dime...","author":"Muse","tags":["calico","cat","children-s-literature","fantasy","feline","fun","humor","imagination","kitty","lyrical","poem","poetry","prose-money","spending"],"id":258152,"author_id":"Muse"},{"text":"Erik: Are you very tired?Christine: Oh, tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead.Erik: Your soul is a beautiful thing, child. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept to-night.","author":"Gaston Leroux","tags":["favorite","lyrical","romantic"],"id":316844,"author_id":"Gaston+Leroux"},{"text":"We not only wish to be pleased, but to be pleased in that particularway in which we have been accustomed to be pleased.","author":"William Wordsworth","tags":["ballads","lyrical","pleased","pleasure","preface","william","wordsworth"],"id":331088,"author_id":"William+Wordsworth"}],"pagination":{"page":1,"page_size":10,"total":14,"pages":2,"next":"?page=2\u0026page_size=10"}}