The Benign Beast

This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.

Gary Provost (via tuongexists)

Holy crap, what just happened there… (via cyrusgabriel)

Words, man. Words.

(via bookoisseur)

(Source: qmsd, via weirdlittlesoul)

Baby, I can see your bones
I can see your cage
I can see your armor
I can see your everlasting light
I can see your bones, baby

Don’t talk dumb to me, love
I can see through the gaps in your bones
The gaps in your light
I can see through your poorly built facade, love

Swipe. Touch your hair again, boy
I like the way you tell
It’s as sure as the sun rises
It’s in the way that you sway—sit.
Touch it again, boy

Yeah, I know
You don’t like transparency,
But boy I do.
Baby, ain’t nothing but consistency
Love, I like you.