a loving eye is all the charm needed: to such you are handsome enough

Elizabe✝h
Hi there.

I'm Elizabeth and I
like to write.
I wish I knew
where I was going
Humm

There are certain truths that I live by
One. I am Eilzabethbutwhatsinaname
Two. I seek happinessbutwhatshappinesswithoutsadness
Three. I pursue self-actualizationbutwhatifidontlikewhatifind
Four. I happily owe everything to Jesus Christ, my saviour and my God. I live for You alone.

Toronto, the city

I like Toronto. I live here.
It's kind of small compared to other cities, I think. Not quite as developed. The subway coverage really sucks.
But I like Toronto. It's urban and vibrant and so diverse. I want to explore it all!

A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one

Jane Eyre
The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas
Holes
If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things
Le petit prince
The English Patient
The Great Gatsby


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“for i am forever changing”
June 2010 July 2010 August 2010 September 2010 October 2010 November 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 March 2011 April 2011 May 2011 June 2011 July 2011 August 2011 September 2011 October 2011 November 2011 December 2011 January 2012 February 2012 March 2012 April 2012 May 2012 June 2012 July 2012 August 2012 September 2012 October 2012 November 2012 January 2013 February 2013 March 2013 April 2013 May 2013 June 2013 July 2013 August 2013 September 2013 October 2013 November 2013 December 2013 January 2014 February 2014 March 2014 April 2014 May 2014 June 2014 August 2014 May 2015

stirring my soul
Wednesday, June 26, 2013 || 8:28 PM

There is a feeling I get, the strangest feeling,
sometimes

I might step into a library and it'll hit me
as I marvel at the millions of pages, the billion different patterns of words, boundless creativity and knowledge hidden within the shelves.

Last night, I considered the collection of books I had resting on the side of the bed I don't use. What lies  beneath their covers? These authors have awed so many before me, those more worldly and more critical than me. I am expecting a lot.
Excitement cracks in the air.

It's the feeling I get when I get to a breakthrough in an essay or another piece of writing. When I stand back and admire my work.
I've nicknamed it "a breath of fresh air".
Because it feels like just that.

It's uplifting, this feeling, uplifting and stirring.
Inspirational
It fills me up and then it overflows

I think this is called
Passion.