That's all I want- to do no harm.
That's all I want- to do no harm.
Then, abrupt and decisive, the Emerald City rose before them. A city of insistence, of blanket declaration. It made no sense, clotting up the horizon, sprouting like a mirage on the characterless plains of central Oz. Glinda hated it from the moment she saw it. Brash upstart of a city.
Evil is an act, not an appetite. How many haven't wanted to slash the throat of some boor across the dining room table? Present company excepted of course. Everyone has the appetite. If you give in to it, it, that act is evil. The appetite is normal.
Oh now that's a blueprint for an impossibly rosy future
The answer of course, is that the clock isn't meant to measure earthly time, but the time of the soul. Redemption and condemnation time. For the soul, each instant is always a minute short of judgment.
There may be no city in the clouds, but dreaming of it can enliven the spirit.
For one short wet month early in the next year the drought lifted. Spring tipped in like green well water frothing at the hedges bubbling at the roadside splashing from the cottage roof in garlands of ivy and stringflower
Okay let's get this over with, no I'm not seasick, yes I've always been green, No I didn't eat grass as a child.
The body apologizes to the soul for its errors, and the soul asks forgiveness for squatting in the body without invitation.
There was much to hate in this world and too much to love.
Galinda didn't often stop to consider whether she believed in what she said or not; the whole point of conversations was flow.
One never knows how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her - is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is the very least question of definitions.
The cunning old cow, thought Melena. She is trying that rarest of strategies, telling the truth, and making it sound plausible.
There were more ways to live than the ones given by one's superiors
Her sister's shoes. They sparkeled even in the darkening afternoon. They sparkeled like yellow diamonds, and embers of blood and thorny stars.
One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her~is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?
The devil is a very big angel, but a very little man.
They moved together, blue diamonds on a green field.
I had really tried to do everything else but revisit Oz. Partly because I knew there would be some amongst us who would say, 'Oh, he's just trying to milk that cow.' . . . . But in the end, I had an idea I couldn't get rid of. I couldn't get it out of my room.
Yes, ... It's called 'Son of a Witch.'
No one is exempt from grief.
I thought if this catches on, that would be a sign from God I should move here,
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories