The Book ThiefSometimes when I wander by,The Book Thief2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
I see this stranger,
as snowflakes fly,
reading and not seeming to be in any danger
I catch a glimpse of his book,
it's so brown,
probably with a good hook,
and I gently sit down
He still doesn't look at me,
it's "The Book Thief",
I smile and let him be,
and begin to feel grief,
Because I know that book,
it's so sad,
when he finally gives me a look,
I know he doesn't find it bad
That's why I smile,
and he begins to talk,
we sit there for a while,
and later begin to walk
He with a long winter coat,
and the brown book in his hands,
me as I float,
above the snowy land
can bring you together,
without arranging any meeting,
books are forever
God Bless the Doctor Ding!God Bless the Doctor2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
The simple sound became an alarm for the one who guided the metal creature through fading roads in both blazing light and frozen night. Faces came and went without notice or care, oblivious to all but their own lives.
A figure sat beside a window, one of many waiting for the moment when they would leave the steel carriage and their feet would touch the ground once more. Golden rust flowed like a river atop her delicate head, hiding the twinkling in her amber eyes, the soft archer's bow of her pearly lips, and the tiny dots like stars on the canvas of her gently pale skin. A Kindle Fire rested in her lap, a single white cord connecting her to the images that played on its screen. On it, tiny pale creatures walked with nearly invisible feet, strangely adorable considering how they came into existence.
Meeting the FangirlI glanced at the passenger beside me. She's a middle aged woman, with brown hair and hazel eyes. She wore a blue short jeans and a white shirt with yellow flowers on it. She looked very occupied reading a novel. Her expression frequently changed and then she looked like she was about to laugh.Meeting the Fangirl2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
I was curious. So secretly i took a quick glance at the book.
Heart pounding. She knew she wants him. It will never last, they said.
Oh, so it's a romance novel.
I kept on taking quick glances at the lady, but she didn't seem to be aware of it. So I just sat there, watching as she read. And there were times when she smiled slyly, and then she would held a small laugh, I just kept observing. And she was totally oblivious.
I glanced at the book a few times too. It's a normal silly romance novel.
"You are the best thing I've ever had in my life." He said, unwilling to let her go.
On this line she smiled like crazy. I know what it called. "Fangirling".
Yes, and on the next line s
No blanket more comforting then one of words.There is no blanket more comforting then one of words.No blanket more comforting then one of words.2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
As one door shuts in my life, there is always another book that I can open. Another adventure to distract me from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
Its comforting to know that the stories I love will live on, even when I am just a forgotten memory. Stories that will connect me to future generations in a way they will not even be aware of.
A way of escape from reality.
So when I am Sitting on the bus, my eyes heavy in my head and life weighing me down. I cant help but smile seeing that man two rows down, eyes glued to the pages of a good book. Or A woman I happen to pass by, sitting on a park bench during her lunch break. Her Sandwich sitting beside her untouched as she loses herself in the plot, I always remind myself never take a second for granted.
You dont know what great stories you could miss out on if you do.
Worth the money?I twirled what resembled fettuccine Alfredo around my fork in endless circles, entertaining myself with the sounds of the fork scraping at the bottom of the plate. My date, having scarfed down his “meal” in a blaze had spent most of the evening making love to a toilet seat, while I spent the night flirting with a limp noodle. Boredom seeping deep into my skin, I glanced around and spotted a portly 9 or 10 year old burning out his eyelids with the back-light from an Iphone. His face was round with freckled cheeks and his hair glowed red in the dim lighting. He was wearing ripped jean Capri pants and what looked like a spaghetti-sauced Adventure Time t-shirt. He hunched over the edge of the table top, laying his arms on the surface as he lowered his neck and lunged head first into the phone. His face was blank and sunken as he bested the flickering screen at a staring contest. Apparently, shooting the undead with flaming peas in Plants vs. Zombies was more interesting than haWorth the money?2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
Deviant Art MemoriesMy favorite Memories of being part of the Deviant Art community is meeting new people from other part's of the world and make new friends, experiencing and learning new things that would help me become a more developed artist and looking back on my previous art work it show's how much I went from this to this and also my other best memories are when I met a lot of int interesting people like Versaill, VictoriWind, NoaQep, UmaYorokobi, IrisLullaby, Drag0n-Mistr3ss and a lot of other people, also when I became a member of the Group.Deviant Art Memories2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
I enjoy being a part of Deviant Art's community and wish Deviant Art a happy Birthday.
Uniques VisionsThrough the tunnel life.Uniques Visions2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
Life where perfection and truth are to question.
Long way from the painful adventure and challenge.
It always takes a train for life.
Ask where will this fierce and ruthless world.
On through DoomTrain for a short end.
Tunnels for the many.
Movement filled with various stop connected world.
Wandering souls looking at their reflections in the water.
Face diverse and different visions of crystal glasses.
Single soul reading the writings of hearts, listening to the songs of souls and watching the various worlds of thought.
Being admire the arts of many visions.
title of art is "Unique Visions."
The speech is announced through the eyes of each, the universe is open for a world Every movement, light and darkness are present, Art is the window of vision through the heart and soul of every being.
Word is the train of life current through time and space.
Everything is affected by this reality of destiny itself.
We are the world's energy as we are parents and children o
All My Life All my life I wAll My LifeAll My Life All my life I w2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
All my life I was taught what I thought was right and wrong.
All my life I dressed for church and knelt before the Lord my God.
All my life I sinned and hurt and all my life I lied.
All my life I hurt with words and all my life I cried.
Then I heard a story of a boy not quite my size.
Who sang and danced and smoked and laughed.
Who had a grand old time.
He testified before us all twiddling his thumbs.
He said he tried to take his life he said he wanted death.
He didn't want to feel and he didn't want to see.
He didn't want his miserable life to end in agony.
But he cried before the Lord the one I had despised.
He begged and prayed for care and love.
For the love he'd never had.
He looked up at us all his eyes shining and clear.
I saw a tear trickle down his cheek and I saw him whisper there.
All my life I waited all my life I cried.
All my life I hoped and all my life I tried.
But it seemed I tried not nearly enough and it seemed He did not care.
Only then I realized he nev
The Path Taken by All I see very little without my glasses. Everything is a large blur of colors until I slip the red television frames around my view. I figure it would be best to draw my unknowing subjects from a park on this rather quaint afternoon. I sneak closer to find a gorgeous subject about the age of eighteen reading a book. I realize that she doesn’t notice the other people strolling by, but continues to look up from the book as if she is waiting for someone.The Path Taken by All2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
I noted down every blonde streak in the auburn hair spouting from her head in every direction known to man. Her cerulean gown flipped and twisted in the summer air. She set down the satin covered book. She’d been reading Gone with the Wind in what seemed only to be German. She clicked her Mary Jane shoes together in dissent. “He’s fifteen minutes late!” The lady moped with a glint of wrath in her sea foam gre
Mystifying...The doors begin to open,Mystifying...2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
And not one word is spoken,
As she gracefully strides in,
With a book in her hand - total win,
An empty seat right next to me,
Just as if it was meant to be,
I look at her as she takes the seat,
Ah! I'm beat,
'Tis boring you know,
Without any entertainment... though,
I could easily take a glance,
And not think of the circumstance,
I may be prying,
But it's not like she'll start crying,
Eyeing her looks closely,
Wearing all black, mostly,
The book is black too,
But with a ring of shiny red goo,
A bird's in the ring as it seems,
I look at the spot where something gleams,
The title I suppose,
A nice book was what she chose,
The Hunger Games,
One of those daunting names,
It looked as if it were calling my name,
How was this book better than any video game,
The lady was engrossed with the book,
I wanted to give her a very odd look,
Mystifying was what I thought it,
As she was turning the pages bit by bit...
The ReasonThe young boy, Max, sat in the bus, reading his book. The Hunger Games. He rolled his dark eyes at the reapings. Boring. He flipped the pages until he got to the interesting parts - the fighting, the killing. The reason why? He was going to participate in a fight, and he'd need some tips. It was a fiction book, but still, it was about fighting. His mind drifted off to what had happened until he had to read a lame fantasy story.The Reason2 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
The blond boy tripped and fell. Unfortunately for him, a mud puddle was directly under his feet. The disgusting brown goo fell upon him. Max started to laugh, not even helping out. The boy stood up, glaring at Max angrily and growling.
Max didn't even flinch. "What are you going to do, rich boy? You're so pampered, I bet you can't even punch something!"
"No, but my friend can. Meet me, for a fight. I'll give you two days to train."
Max's expression changed. He hadn't been expecting that.