Cassie's Quote Attempts

Starting with a quote:

Some may mock the grandeur of moonlight, 

But what would the human soul be if it wanted

Only sun? 

- Mark Strand

On a summer evening, I carry myself into the vastness of air to look from as far as I can climb. I watch as the west reaches for clothes of new colors: Oranges, purples, and pinks. I think that maybe the sky is going out tonight. That maybe she has plans and that's why she wants to dress so flamboyantly. I don't remember there being clouds today. I just remember a blazing blue sky. Now, in this fuchsia evening, I imagine that my Heavenly Mother wrote me a love letter of pink clouds. I wonder how much pink the earth is capable of, when the whole planet only gives credit to blue. There, under the barely perceptible fire of the sky, I feel myself wobble towards hope. I don't want to be selfish, but in a world that seems so dominated by blue, my heart has always longed for pink clouds. What would my human soul be if it wanted only blue?

Quoting The Beatles:

I was trying to do homework on a Friday night when I heard the arpeggio laughter of a girl. I decided the whole world was about on this autumn evening going on dates, finding fulfilling relationships, and being hopelessly in love with everyone but me. Life is funny because one minute I'm reading Emerson and the next I'm looking up youtube videos of how to give yourself the heimlick maneuver so that if I'm going to die alone at least I don't have to die alone because I'm alone. The Beatles sang about Eleanor Rigby "died in a church and was buried alone with her name" I thought that was dramatic on a Tuesday afternoon, but now that I'm alone on a Friday night it seems right.

Referencing Whitman vaguely: 

The honey air of Sunday evening smells too sweet for the company of my shadow. She stands next to me whispering, telling me about all the things I would have been if I had just been kinder, and wiser, and more of what I lack. In high school, I entered a pageant. And in my sparkly ocean dress, I won the award for being my "best self." Now I can't even begin to understand what that means. As I watch the sour lemon sun exchanged for a wordless moon, I am grateful my shadow is gone. That I can be truly alone with just one version of myself, and not the possibilities and the downsides. I have sung a million eulogies to the version of myself I thought was the pure version. But maybe the song of myself I sing is a duet, maybe we live in a contradiction, maybe the multitudes we contain are the beginning of an answer to a question I can never quite formulate.