As I handed her the bag, the old scars on my wrist throbbed with buried memories.
As I handed her the bag, the old scars on my wrist throbbed with buried memories.
At the gray tea hour there were always rooms that throbbed incessantly with this low, sweet fever, while fresh faces drifted here and there like rose petals blown by the sad horns around the floor.
Every part of my body felt electric. My chest ached and my head throbbed with the great terrible limitless possibility of the morning, and when it came, the sky was washed white, everything was new, and I hadn't slept at all.
He was dead. However, his nose throbbed painfully, which he thought odd in the circumstances.
Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the battle-flags were furled In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.
I tried Zen and Ching, numerology, tarot cards and astrology. I tried to look back into the Bible, and could not find anything. At this time I did not know anything about Islam, and then, what I regarded as a miracle occurred. My brother had visited the mosque in Jerusalem, and was greatly impressed that while on the one hand it throbbed with life.
I pressed down the mental accelerator. The old lemon throbbed fiercely. I got an idea.
What did we care, any one of the three of us, where we sat or how we lived, when youth throbbed hot in our veins, and our souls were all aflame with the possibilities of life
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories