Sublime
An inspiration engine for ideas
the little pink flowers flaming our yard, our gay harbinger. The first time I saw it in bloom I thought of Shakespeare’s first sonnet, Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament And only herald to the gaudy spring.
Garth Greenwell • Small Rain
You were a girl who flew into the arms of other girls and boys and anyone who fell for you, and people fell for you like rain. (But you almost never fell back.)
Ashley Woodfolk • Nothing Burns as Bright as You
the little pink flowers flaming our yard, our gay harbinger. The first time I saw it in bloom I thought of Shakespeare’s first sonnet, Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament And only herald to the gaudy spring.
Garth Greenwell • Small Rain
For this quiet, unprepossessing, passive man who has no garden in front of his subsidized flat, books are like flowers. He loves to line them up on the shelf in multicolored rows; he watches over each of them with an old-fashioned gardener’s delight, holds them like fragile objects in his thin, bloodless hands.