good mood - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
In good moods a writer may paint words that are fine wine and soft music; words that contain more healing medicine than all the drugs created by man. They are clear water over rocks, a shelter in any storm. They are food for the soul of every flower of the light. So I vow to only write what is right, inspired by the golden illumination of a sun that never dies. The pen is indeed mightier than the sword, for a pen can weave love; a pen can bring the cleansing rain of hope; a pen can speak words so sublime as to last all the ages of man.
Jason is in such a good mood I want to smack him. No matter how much negative spin I put on everything he knows just how "everything is going to be alright." His smile almost never leaves his face and he's looking at me like I'm teenager having a tantrum. If he hums "You are my sunshine..." one more time I'm gonna do something illegal with a spork and he won't like it.
...After a few more trades we head for home. Somehow now he is light again. As he munches his bread he makes “mmm,mmmm,mmmm” noises and instead of being irritated I am surprised to find it makes me almost grin. The crumbs make a trail down my sweater on their way to the ground and somehow this is OK with me. I chalk it up to knowing he’ll be going soon. Frankie is going to fall in love with him tomorrow and life goes back to normal...
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
Good mood songs, good mood food and the telephone ringer off. I've got how to get into a good mood down to a science - no, not science - an art. So long as I don't do it too often a little self-indulgence goes a long way. With The King to serenade me, a glass of chilled white wine and gooey brie on fresh bread, I can only succeed. I can feel the warmth rising already, though to be fair, that could be the alcohol...
Carl smiled softly. Though the newspapers blew about the street he paid them no mind, they were no more bother than fall leaves, just ugly. He passed the graffiti and the scarred lampposts, barely noticing the beat up old cars. This avenue might be falling apart just as much as it ever was, but he'd found his love and not a thing or a person could ever take that away. The people that passed him didn't irritate him any longer, perhaps one day they would see the world though love's eyes like he did, he hoped so. Ahead was the intersection and his bus stop, he was early. There would be time enough to enjoy the early summer warmth before boarding. The air was sweet and there was no hurry, his world had been cast anew and he was savouring every moment.
Liza has two moods, just two. Today her dial is set to "good." That means nothing can go wrong, everyone is lovely and only the most optimistic of forecasts (on any topic) will do. It is irritating, but the alternative is so bad I'd want to donate my ears to charity.
In the brilliant light of May I can't even see the glass. The sun streams in like a flamboyant guest, not waiting for an invitation. No longer can I see the white vinyl frame, just the shape. I think this window is what sold me on the house, it's like an arched doorway: low to the ground and reaching high to the ceiling. Perhaps sun-bleaching of the floors and couch should concern me, but it doesn't. The rays warm the couch and lift me to notions of gardening and walking the dog. I know he needs it, I think we both do.
"Good morning, happy friends!" I say cheerily as I join them at the breakfast tent. Arabella nods at me, eating oatmeal, but the others barely glance at me from their food.
Nothing has changed since yesterday, nothing that material anyhow. We're still sunk in debt and the dog is still digging holes in a backyard that I guess now belongs to the bank. Not that they worked for it. I should be ready to cry but instead it's like I'm no longer swimming in concrete. I've come up for air and the world looks pretty darn peachy. My eye is on the camper van and my mind is travelling the road over the Rockies. Me, Gale, the dog and the open road. I've got a stash of cash the taxman don't know about and the bank will never see, enough to keep us going a good long time if we take small jobs along the way.
Herman shrugs as the bus goes past full, leaning back against the perspex of the bus-stop, a smile upon his face. Passers by look his way, jarred from their mires of thought, almost disturbed by a serenity that doesn't belong to a Monday morning. With no music in his ears Herman's head moves as if there's smooth jazz playing inside. His eyes are cast softly upon the white puffed cloud above instead of the anxious glances of the other commuters, all them clamouring for the next bus to come.
Paul smiled as usual, "You want to know how to always be in a good mood? Simple. Cut yourself off from "the news," don't watch things that scare you and surround yourself with caring and positive people. Do something you love, even if it's not how you earn your keep. Try to make a positive difference in the world. Care. Really care about others and the planet. Then you'll feel good inside and have a wonderful environment. Not so simple? Sure it is. Maybe not when you're a child, but it's quite doable for an adult. Choose your friends wisely and hang in there, it only gets better.