Alphareader - Danielle Binks

You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire. That day in Moscow, it will all come true, when, for the last time, I take my leave, And hasten to the heights that I have longed for, Leaving my shadow still to be with you

You Will Hear Thunder, Poem by Anna Akhmatova

Amy & Hope are the new (and better) Claire & Bender

Star-crossed lovers ✨ Decided to do one last reylo art for the last day of 2023, Happy New Year!

What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore it knows it's not fooling a soul.

'American Gods' by Neil Gaiman 

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE TEXT POSTS

And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours, Claire? I swear by my hope of heaven, I will not be parted from you." The wind stirred the leaves of the chestnut trees nearby, and the scents of late summer rose up rich around us; pine and grass and strawberries, sun-warmed stone and cool water, and the sharp, musky smell of his body next to mine. "Nothing is lost, Sassenach; only changed." "That's the first law of thermodynamics," I said, wiping my nose. "No," he said. "That's faith.

'Drums of Autumn' by Diana Gabaldon 

“I’d know you in the dark,” he said. “From a thousand miles away. There’s nothing you could become that I haven’t already fallen in love with.”

'Attachments' by Rainbow Rowell

“Yeah, my mom says that love is like music. One day you just – hear it.” “Whoa. First of all, I never said I loved Patrick. But I think I know what she means. I don’t think she means actual music, Bridge. She means that you know it when you feel it. Like music – you know it when you heart it.” “Okay, so love is also like a hamburger? You know it when you taste it?” Em laughed. “A hamburger is more deliberate. You have to make it, or ask for it. … Music just kind of breaks over you.”

Goodbye Stranger by Rebecca Stead 

The last time of anything has the poignancy of death itself. This that I see now, she thought, to see no more this way. Oh, the last time how clearly you see everything; as though a magnifying light had been turned on it. And you grieve because you hadn't held it tighter when you had it every day. What had Granma Mary Rommely said? 'To look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory.'

'A Tree Grows in Brooklyn' Betty Smith