He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven would be only half alive, and he said mine would be drunk; I said I should fall asleep in his, and he said he could not breathe in mine. Emily Brontë
Anonymous asked - "dear peter: on the seventh day God rested, but on the first He got to work. do you ever wonder what the very first monday looked like? do you ever wonder what it would feel like to take an axe to the darkness, to chisel out the the stars? breathing light into darkness. reaching out, leaving nebulae in the wake of your trailing fingers. finding one rock and holding it in your palm and calling it home. it must be something. in the beginning, that was it. stardust and soil. did He break a sweat?"