I have no use for these other loves.Seal them shut in jarsand place them in the pantry. A reserve of love.Thank them for their love.They are so kind.Perhaps store them in the fridgeFor others to take.They say love is a panacea. I know it is not.Flakes of snow,no two are alike.When I am down on my knees, hopeless and angry,for the world no longer makes sense,I won't look in the pantry or fridge.It is your hand pressing on my shoulderthat makes me whole,makes me forget.What trouble? What world?

~ Kamand Kojouri

Kamand Kojouri Angry Beloved Change Forget Fridge Hope Hopeful Hopeless In Love Jar Kamand Kamand Kojouri Kind Kojouri Love Love Poem Loved Lover Loves Loving Metamorphosis Oneness Others Panacea Pantry Poem Poetry Quote Relationship Reserve Seal Snow Thank Transcend Transcendent Transform Transformation Trouble Union Unity World

If I could store lightnings in jars, I'd sell them to sick fireflies to light their way. Only they have nothing to pay for it with but life.

~ Will Advise

Will Advise Ability Bugs Collection Collections Fireflies Firefly Health Insects Jar Jars Life Light Lightning Nothing Purchase Purchases Sickness Storage Way

While Leo fussed over his helm controls, Hazel and Frank relayed the story of the fish-centaurs and their training camp.'Incredible,' Jason said. 'These are really good brownies.''That's your only comment?' Piper demanded.He looked surprised. 'What? I heard the story. Fish-centaurs. Merpeople. Letter of intro to the Tiber River god. Got it. But these brownies--''I know,' Frank said, his mouth full. 'Try them with Ester's peach preserves.''That,' Hazel said, 'is incredibly disgusting.''Pass me the jar, man,' Jason said.Hazel and Piper exchanged a look of total exasperation. Boys.

~ Rick Riordan

Rick Riordan Boys Brownies Eating Esther Food Incredibly Disgusting Jar Mark Of Athena Peach Preserves Story Telling

It was one of those things they keep in a jar in the tent of a sideshow on the outskirts of a little, drowsy town. One of those pale things drifting in alcohol plasma, forever dreaming and circling, with its peeled, dead eyes staring out at you and never seeing you. It went with the noiselessness of late night, and only the crickets chirping, the frogs sobbing off in the moist swampland. One of those things in a big jar that makes your stomach jump as it does when you see a preserved arm in a laboratory vat.

~ Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradbury Alcohol Drifting Jar Jars Noiselessness Pale Peeled Plasma Preserved Swampland Vat