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“For a minute, I can feel it: the sense of peace as my mind goes quiet, like I'm already dead. I am weightless and free. Nothing and no one to fear, not even myself.”
Jennifer Niven, All the Bright Places“Life continues even if no one has proven to us the shape and size of the Earth, even if no one has informed us about the composition of air and the depth of sky.We will not float in weightlessness simply because we have not read the lesson on gravity.”
Danail Hristov, The End of the Jesus Era“All at once, something wonderful happened, although at first, it seemed perfectly ordinary. A female goldfinch suddenly hove into view. She lighted weightlessly on the head of a bankside purple thistle and began emptying the seedcase, sowing the air with down. The lighted frame of my window filled. The down rose and spread in all directions, wafting over the dam’s waterfall and wavering between the tulip trunks and into the meadow. It vaulted towards the orchard in a puff; it hovered over the ripening pawpaw fruit and staggered up the steep faced terrace. It jerked, floated, rolled, veered, swayed. The thistle down faltered down toward the cottage and gusted clear to the woods; it rose and entered the shaggy arms of pecans. At last it strayed like snow, blind and sweet, into the pool of the creek upstream, and into the race of the creek over rocks down. It shuddered onto the tips of growing grasses, where it poised, light, still wracked by errant quivers. I was holding my breath. Is this where we live, I thought, in this place in this moment, with the air so light and wild? The same fixity that collapses stars and drives the mantis to devour her mate eased these creatures together before my eyes: the thick adept bill of the goldfinch, and the feathery coded down. How could anything be amiss? If I myself were lighter and frayed, I could ride these small winds, too, taking my chances, for the pleasure of being so purely played. The thistle is part of Adam’s curse. “Cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.” A terrible curse: But does the goldfinch eat thorny sorrow with the thistle or do I? If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed. If this creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. I was weightless; my bones were taut skins blown with buoyant gas; it seemed that if I inhaled too deeply, my shoulders and head would waft off. Alleluia.”
Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek“If a dream stubbornly returns from seemingly weightless nights”
then give him your trust.“When we're together, I'm a leaf floating on a pond. Weightlessly in love.”
Atalina Wright, Unbound“A promise is just an empty shell filled with words, and words are weightless.”
Lik Hock Yap Ivan“Sadly, American teenagers are to a weightless vacuum as seat cushions are to polyurethane foam -”
Marisha Pessl, Special Topics in Calamity Physics“he was so beautiful because when he held her he was not concerned with ‘being a man.’ ‘being a man’ had nothing to do with this. these flowers pouring from his chest. – weightless”
Nayyirah Waheed, Salt“Falling in love isn't about expectations or an outcome.It is about the sheer, weightless, joyous terror of falling into the universal embrace.”
Joyce Wycoff