seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Venezuela
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Sweden
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from China
I looked back at the farmhouse in my rear-view mirror, and a trick of the light made it seem as if two moons hung in the sky above it, like a pair of eyes watching me from above: one moon perfectly full and round, the other, its twin on the other side of the sky, a half-moon.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
You don't pass or fail at being a person, dear.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
A small part of my mind remembered an alternative pattern of events, and then lost it, as if I had woken from a comfortable sleep, and looked around, pulled the bedclothes over me and returned to my dream.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
It's hard enough being alive, trying to survive in the world and find your place in it, to do the things you need to do to get by, without wondering if the thing you just did, whatever it was, was worth someone having, if not died, then having given up her life.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
Silence then, and it was louder than worlds could have been. They had nothing to say.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
We are hunger birds. We have devoured palaces and worlds and kings and stars.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I took joy in the things that made me happy.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
I found myself thinking of an ocean running beneath the whole universe, like the dark seawater that laps beneath the wooden boards of an old pier: an ocean that stretches from forever to forever and is still small enough to fit inside a bucket, if you have Old Mrs Hempstock to help you, and you ask nicely.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
