Tag Archives: sketch
I grew up in Gulfport, the second largest city in Mississippi. However, it was not so hard to find rural pockets in our day to day. Our neighborhood was surrounded by nature, woods in which we would built forts and hide from one another, ditches to discover pollywogs and crawfish, and a canal to master our swimming. These patches of trees and bramble were pockets of solace, tiny little havens where we could escape the monotony of our everyday. Here we could let our imaginations run rampant; we could hide from the world around us. My friends and I would play for hours in those woods, and then clean ourselves in the canal that ran alongside our neighborhood.
We were boys becoming young men, and it was not long before we felt the need to challenge ourselves. The canal was approximately one hundred yards in width, and we had never tried to swim across it. My parents had warned me of deadly undercurrents, and we had seen the alligators with our own eyes. However, there was some primal instinct that made us all believe that something would change if we could swim across that canal. There were five of us that decided to take the plunge that day.
I was the second of the group to stumble onto the sands of the opposite shore of the seaway. I was still on my hands and knees, trying to catch my breath, when I heard the cries for help. One of my friends was in the middle of the canal, and he was panicking. He was grabbing and pulling the two boys swimming next to him. I immediately dove back into the water. I got close enough to talk to him and calm him down. Together we bobbed back to our little haven. For nearly an hour, we were all too tired to even speak. The five of us sat on the sand in abject silence. Something had certainly changed for us that day; our pride had been eroded by the water of that canal, and we understood the fragility of our existence.
Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
-F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.
-James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
This private estate was far enough away from the explosion so that its bamboos, pines, laurel, and maples were still alive, and the green place invited refugees- partly because the believed that if the Americans came back, they would bomb only buildings; partly because the foliage seemed a center of coolness and life, and the estate’s exquisitely precise rock gardens, with their quiet pools and arching bridges, were very Japanese, normal, secure; and also partly (according to some who were there) because of an irresistible, atavistic urge to hide under leaves.
-John Hersey, Hiroshima
It was a fine cry- loud and long- but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.
-Toni Morrison, Sula
For what do we live, but to make sport of our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?
-Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
It was the United States of America in the cold late spring of 1967, and the market was steady and the G.N.P. high and a great many articulate people seemed to have a sense of high social purpose and it might have been a spring of brave hopes and national promise, but it was not, and more and more people had the uneasy apprehension that it was not.
-Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Anger was washed away in the river along with any obligation.
-Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
There are many pleasant fictions of the law in constant operation, but there is not one so pleasant or practically humorous as that which supposes every man to be of equal value in its impartial eye, and the benefits of all laws to be equally attainable by all men, without the smallest reference to the furniture of their pockets.
-Charles Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby
In many ways he was like America itself, big and strong, full of good intentions, a roll of fat jiggling at his belly, slow of foot but always plodding along, always there when you needed him, a believer in the virtues of simplicity and directness and hard labor.
-Tim O’Brien, The Things They Carried
There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child.
-Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita
And a bonus:
Like the waters of the river, like the motorists on the highway, and like the yellow trains streaking down the Santa Fe tracks, drama, in the shape of exceptional happenings, had never stopped there.
-Truman Capote, In Cold Blood
What do people want from their vampires? The strict lore of what a vampire was, and how a vampire behaved has gone through some vast changes in recent years. I, as well as many others, disagree with a large portion of these changes; however, I do think some changes were needed. I already have my vampire lore established in Delphia, but I would be open to changing the essence if I found a proposal that tickled my fancy. So, how would your vampire look/behave/interact with the world around them? Please, the more detailed the more I can visualize your vampire. Thanks.
Tags: art, Cullen, d&d, Delphia, demon, Dracula, dragon, drawing, dwarf, elf, fantasy, fantasy fiction, Gnome, halfling, magic, Ogre, orc, short story, sketch, therian, troll, Twilight, vampire, werewolf, world building