Rauros Falls Quotes & Sayings

Between you and me,
the words,
like mortar,
separating, holding together
those pieces of the structure ourselves.
To say them,
to cast their shadows on the page,
is the act of binding mutual passions,
is cognizance, yourself/myself,
of our sameness under skin;
it rears possible cathedrals
indicating infinity with steeply-high styli.
For when tomorrow comes it is today,
and if it is not the drop
that is eternity
glistening at the pen's point,
then the ink of our voices
surrounds like an always night,
and mortar marks the limit of our cells. — Roger Zelazny

And if Mozart is for Sundays, who do you listen to the rest of the week?"
"Louis Armstrong on Mondays, Frank Sinatra on Wednesdays. And Glenn Miller on Fridays, unless it's raining. If it's raining, it's always Billie Holiday."
"What about Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday?" I asked.
"Those days are quiet. Unless it's raining. — Clare Vanderpool

(Streets of Sorrow)
Oh, farewell you streets of sorrow
Oh, farewell you streets of pain
I'll not return to feel more sorrow
Through the years I've lived through terror
And in the darkened streets, the pain
Oh, how I long to find some solace
In my mind, I curse the strain
So, farewell, you streets of sorrow
And, farewell, you streets of pain — The Pogues

Americans will quarrel over how, who, or what to rescue or save, but the idea that the nation ought to be off doing it is challenged only by a few. — Nicholas Von Hoffman

As you go down the water,' he said, 'you will find that the trees will fail, and you will come to a barren country. There the River flows in stony vales amid high moors, until at last after many leagues it comes to the tall island of the Tindrock, that we call Tol Brandir. There it casts its arms about the steep shores of the isle, and falls then with a great noise and smoke over the cataracts of Rauros down into the Nindalf, the Wetwang as it is called in your tongue. That is a wide region of sluggish fen where the stream becomes tortuous and much divided. There the Entwash flows in by many mouths from the Forest of Fangorn in the west. About that stream, on this side of the Great River, lies Rohan. On the further side are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil. The wind blows from the East there, for they look out over the Dead Marshes and the Noman-lands to Cirith Gorgor and the black gates of Mordor. — J.R.R. Tolkien

I think you mother has Asperger's," Georgie had said to Neal.
"They didn't get Asperger's int he '50s."
"I'm just saying maybe she's on the the spectrum."
"She's just a math teacher. — Rainbow Rowell

He floated by them, and slowly his boat departed, waning to a dark spot against the golden light; and then suddenly it vanished. Rauros roared on unchanging. The River had taken Boromir son of Denethor, and he was not seen again in Minas Tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the White Tower in the morning. But in Gondor in after-days it long was said that the elven-boat rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him down through Osgiliath, and past the many mouths of Anduin, out into the Great Sea at night under the stars. — J.R.R. Tolkien