He had never been so happy to see all the lamps gone. Who had taken them and why, he would probably never know– but it was comforting to finally be in the darkness with which he was so familiar. Darkness was and always had been his ally.
I feel delighted when I see your smile or experience something that makes me realize the endless possibilities of the life that lies ahead of me. When I find a common interest with a new friend my whole heart swells and I can’t help but smile or laugh out loud!
it was one hell of a feeling to log in and see the name pop up on the website at the top of the page on the right, underneath the paper notification button dotted with yellow and flashing every ten seconds as if it could give someone a seizure. she was delighted, and there was no other way to describe the feeling.
I was delighted to see Rebecca.
Well, at least, I pretended like I was delighted to see her. You know, it’s hard to be happy to see someone after your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with them.
But I forced a smile and welcomed her into my house, like nothing had happened.
Vii think of that pun about the man coming home to find all his lamps stolen. but I also think of the biggest smile, and candlelight, and meeting people, and report cards. It’s a light cake of a word, immediately sweet and fluffy, but not insubstantive. is that a word? i dunno. I think of delight as receiving a present, a good surprise from someone you love.
I am delighted to feel this anger towards for it means you were loved and you left without getting to feel enough of that love I had for you. I am delighted you made me and glad to know what has become of all the time I got to spend with you. I am delighted to cry over you. I love you dad and I miss you.
The light in her eyes as her hair flowed with purple highlights shone in the sun. She ran over the train tracks one by one. Her dirty shoelaces flopped and all i could think of was how delighted her smile was. The feeling of fleeing what we’ve always known was a new experience and I felt the music would follow us forever.
The calico cat licked his paw and rubbed his whiskers as he crouched, silhouetted against the sky as it steadily crept from twilight to dusk bringing with it a deep sense of mystery and spiritual nourishment that perhaps only the feline population could read and understand perfectly.
He loved this time of night, the sheer magic of it that you could feel from whiskers to paw. Sometimes it was a subtle magic, like the time he became lost and a single gold leaf fell from the sky to point the way home. Another time it was more potent, like the time his very being dissolved and he crossed a luminous threshold into another realm created entirely from spiders’ webs. He delighted in this magic; wished that humans knew of it, but they seemed too caught up in what seemed superficial concerns. (He could have perhaps blamed this on the Industrial Revolution, or mankind’s interpretation of seemingly mechanistic Cartesian duality – although Descartes had even come up with an elegant theory that said animal spirits could interact with humans via the pineal gland – but when did you ever read about that?!) But really, the Calico cat privately thought that actually you could lay some of the blame at Thomas Edison’s feet with the invention of the light bulb (that and the fact mankind was already losing its spiritual footing). The artificial, electric light seemed ruthlessly clinical in a negation of Mystery, an erosion of shadows that carried with them footsteps of panther, or the flicker of moths wings. A decaying of old ways and truths that humans used to just somehow know. Just like cats did.
And what did bleedin’ Edison do? Go and distract those pesky humans from the whisperings of the universe; got them thinking magic wasn’t real. He yawned loudly and scratched his ear.
The call of the night was now too great as the stars and the moon became bright overhead, and the calico cat felt, as always, an inexorable sense that his home was not on this planet but instead nestled deep within the canopy of stars above. At this he wandered off to become enveloped by the night; an occasional deep-throated meow the only identifying feature for the unwary.
The calico cat licked his paw and rubbed his whiskers as he crouched, silhouetted against the sky as it steadily crept from twilight to dusk bringing with it a deep sense of mystery and spiritual nourishment that perhaps only the feline population could read and understand perfectly.
He loved this time of night, the sheer magic of it that you could feel from whiskers to paw. Sometimes it was a subtle magic, like the time he became lost and a single gold leaf fell from the sky to point the way home. Another time it was more potent, like the time his very being dissolved and he crossed a luminous threshold into another realm created entirely from spiders’ webs. He delighted in this magic; wished that humans knew of it, but they seemed too caught up in what seemed superficial concerns. (He could have perhaps blamed this on the Industrial Revolution, or mankind’s interpretation of seemingly mechanistic Cartesian duality – although Descartes had even come up with an elegant theory that said animal spirits could interact with humans via the pineal gland – but when did you ever read about that?!) But really, the Calico cat privately thought that actually you could lay some of the blame at Thomas Edison’s feet with the invention of the light bulb (that and the fact mankind was already losing its spiritual footing). The artificial, electric light seemed ruthlessly clinical in a negation of Mystery, an erosion of shadows that carried with them footsteps of panther, or the flicker of moths wings. A decaying of old ways and truths that humans used to just somehow know. Just like cats did.
And what did bleedin’ Edison do? Go and distract those pesky humans from the whisperings of the universe; got them thinking magic wasn’t real. He yawned loudly and scratched his ear.
The call of the night was now too great as the stars and the moon became bright overhead, and the calico cat felt, as always, an inexorable sense that his home was not on this planet but instead nestled deep within the canopy of stars above. At this he wandered off and became enveloped into the night; an occasional deep-throated meow the only identifying feature for the unwary.
He seemed so delighted to see her. Eyes alight with happiness as he grabbed her hand and said, “I can’t believe you’re still alive!”
It was odd, seeing someone so happy in her presence. From the earliest she could remember, she was shunned, hated, forgotten. No one really was happy to see her.
It was hard to be happy in a situation like this. Too many people, all with delighted, happy looks on their face. Too much noise, too much talking. It was stiffing, and she hated it.
There was a reason she never went to these kind of parties anyways.
She sighed, tipping back her head and swallowing another glass of wine.
The calico cat licked his paw and rubbed his whiskers as he crouched, intently watching the sky as it crept from twilight to dusk, becoming as it did so, loaded with a deep sense of mystery that perhaps only the feline population could read and understand perfectly.
He loved this time of night, the sheer magic of it. Sometimes it was a subtle magic, like the time a single gold leaf fell from the sky, simply to point the way home. Another time it was more potent, like the mysterious stranger who told the cat of some of the mysteries of the universe, or the time his very being dissolved and he crossed a luminous threshold into another realm, created entirely from spiders’ webs. He delighted in this mystery; wished that humans knew of it, but they seemed too caught up in what seemed superficial concerns. He could have perhaps blamed this on the Industrial Revolution, or a mankind’s common interpretations of seemingly mechanistic Cartesian duality – although Descartes had even come up with an elegant theory that said animal spirits could interact with humans via the pineal gland – but when did you ever read about that?! But really, the Calico cat concluded that a good place to start could be with Thomas Edison and the invention of the light bulb – that really put a few nails in the coffin for Mystery – for how could you see and sense the magic in the night sky when dazzled by artificial light? At that the calico cat felt, as always, an inexorable pull deep within; a sense that his home was not on this planet but instead nestled deep within the canopy of stars above. At this, he ambled off, disappearing into the darkness completely.
His smile was as wide as they could come. It lit up his usually dark and dreary face. It was an odd tingling feeling he was unfamiliar with when she looked at him. A warm fuzzy feeling he couldn’t control.
Will was always delighted when Grell came to visit him. He would never admit it, but it always brightened his day when his office door was thrown open and she spent time talking to him about anything, even if she did sometimes make a mess of his desk.
Quite with that because I am so tired of the arguments I’m so tired of the feeling that comes with uncertainty I am so tired of kicking myself in the balls for wearing a orange hat instead of a blue one. What shall a grown man do but sing? Sing like the birds of yesteryear.
i can’t imagine trying to think of all the ways to please you. it’s like a bottomless well and i’m dredging the bottom with a tin cup, looking, desperately looking, for the thing to say that will delight you, make your eyes sparkle and shine and the creases of your mouth tighten up right before a smile.
Her face shown with utter delight as she tore the paper off of the large box. Surely it would be the doll bunk beds! That was what she had pointed at in the store, that’s what she had told her mom she wanted! She could just imagine the tiny blankets, the tiny pillows, and she could barely catch her breath, her excitement was so great.
little flutter in my stomach, i want to push it back so you don’t see it but i think you do. i don’t want you to know what you do to me. i don’t want you to know that you have this power over me
It was July. Sam could take it no longer – a stealthy operation in the dead of night saw the removal of the Christmas decorations from next door for the first time in nearly a decade.
I think of that amazing feeling where you can’t stop yourself from smiling and you are genuinely so pleased and happy. Wonderful emotion, makes you feel light and joyous. It can be something small like a text from a friend or something larger like hearing great news.
Her laughter echoed throughout the room at the mere sight of her friends. She hadn’t been expecting them, and when her eyes landed on them, she felt a bubbling feeling rise through her veins, up her throat, and she grinned with a spark in her eyes before letting the sound free from her lips. The sound of shuffling, hurried footsteps rose into the air, and then bodies colliding.
I was delighted when I set eyes on him. He was good looking, kinda dangerous, had a cigarette hanging from his lips. His long dark hair was in a little pony tail, with strands framing his handsome face.
I’d never seen such cheap sweet strawberries and I spent my last four dollars on them with minimal guilt. Minimal guilt considering that I was the queen of guiltonia most days. I’d embroidered a crown and everything but at least I’d removed the embedded thorns from it. Each time I tried to remove the crown, a crow kept protesting.
I am delighted to be your friend.
Will continue to be so as long as you continue to be honest, open-minded and do your own laundry.
Whoops, you dropped one sock going to the laundry machine. Yours or mine?
When did it start? I think
that one time when you meant to prop your knee up on the bed and tripped and fell onto the floor. When I made you mad, and it hurt me. Getting to touch you wherever I want whenever I want, and that empty feeling as I wait for you to touch me back. A little loneliness, knowing you or me are not enough. Cold sheets. Hot air. The back of your head. Fear of falling off the balcony ledge like little paper ashes
fluttering
into dust.
The sun’s out. I guess I always feel alright when the sun’s out. Look at it: the light reflects from someone’s mom’s dun-grey SUV, bounces onto the sidewalk, catches the slits in the lace-like weeds.
She clapped her tiny hands together, her flushed face lit up with excitement. Her positively delighted expression brought a much-needed smile to my face.
They rolled their eyes and stretched out a hand for the box.
Ed giggled quietly. He knew, he just knew, that they were going to be delighted with their gift. He’d spent hours hunting around the shops and craftsplaces of the city – it had taken him months to find this piece.
One thing I’m not, is delighted. I just sat down for my lunch; fork full of delicious cheesy potato-y fish half way to my mouth, when a knock at the door comes. Goddamnit, Jehovah’s Witnesses again.
i will be delighted to get back to myself. to where i once was–what i once felt—how i once behaved–for that limited time. that brief limited time that never lasts quite as long as the consuming spiral downward. i spin down down down til i miss the delight enough to head up again.
As a bird of many songs, I was delighted to find a well educated worm in my apple. It had been a long time since I’ve debated my lunch. While he put up a good argument, his peppercorn glasses added a better spice to my rebuttal.
He had never been so happy to see all the lamps gone. Who had taken them and why, he would probably never know– but it was comforting to finally be in the darkness with which he was so familiar. Darkness was and always had been his ally.
I feel delighted when I see your smile or experience something that makes me realize the endless possibilities of the life that lies ahead of me. When I find a common interest with a new friend my whole heart swells and I can’t help but smile or laugh out loud!
it was one hell of a feeling to log in and see the name pop up on the website at the top of the page on the right, underneath the paper notification button dotted with yellow and flashing every ten seconds as if it could give someone a seizure. she was delighted, and there was no other way to describe the feeling.
I was delighted to see Rebecca.
Well, at least, I pretended like I was delighted to see her. You know, it’s hard to be happy to see someone after your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with them.
But I forced a smile and welcomed her into my house, like nothing had happened.
Vii think of that pun about the man coming home to find all his lamps stolen. but I also think of the biggest smile, and candlelight, and meeting people, and report cards. It’s a light cake of a word, immediately sweet and fluffy, but not insubstantive. is that a word? i dunno. I think of delight as receiving a present, a good surprise from someone you love.
I am delighted to feel this anger towards for it means you were loved and you left without getting to feel enough of that love I had for you. I am delighted you made me and glad to know what has become of all the time I got to spend with you. I am delighted to cry over you. I love you dad and I miss you.
Delighted
excited
this string of lonliness has been righted
found a new home
in feeling alone
a dime spark of a flame never ignighted
I’ll scream forever if it means that I’m allowed to feel all the things that make my chest burst with anger and joy and passion and fear.
The light in her eyes as her hair flowed with purple highlights shone in the sun. She ran over the train tracks one by one. Her dirty shoelaces flopped and all i could think of was how delighted her smile was. The feeling of fleeing what we’ve always known was a new experience and I felt the music would follow us forever.
The calico cat licked his paw and rubbed his whiskers as he crouched, silhouetted against the sky as it steadily crept from twilight to dusk bringing with it a deep sense of mystery and spiritual nourishment that perhaps only the feline population could read and understand perfectly.
He loved this time of night, the sheer magic of it that you could feel from whiskers to paw. Sometimes it was a subtle magic, like the time he became lost and a single gold leaf fell from the sky to point the way home. Another time it was more potent, like the time his very being dissolved and he crossed a luminous threshold into another realm created entirely from spiders’ webs. He delighted in this magic; wished that humans knew of it, but they seemed too caught up in what seemed superficial concerns. (He could have perhaps blamed this on the Industrial Revolution, or mankind’s interpretation of seemingly mechanistic Cartesian duality – although Descartes had even come up with an elegant theory that said animal spirits could interact with humans via the pineal gland – but when did you ever read about that?!) But really, the Calico cat privately thought that actually you could lay some of the blame at Thomas Edison’s feet with the invention of the light bulb (that and the fact mankind was already losing its spiritual footing). The artificial, electric light seemed ruthlessly clinical in a negation of Mystery, an erosion of shadows that carried with them footsteps of panther, or the flicker of moths wings. A decaying of old ways and truths that humans used to just somehow know. Just like cats did.
And what did bleedin’ Edison do? Go and distract those pesky humans from the whisperings of the universe; got them thinking magic wasn’t real. He yawned loudly and scratched his ear.
The call of the night was now too great as the stars and the moon became bright overhead, and the calico cat felt, as always, an inexorable sense that his home was not on this planet but instead nestled deep within the canopy of stars above. At this he wandered off to become enveloped by the night; an occasional deep-throated meow the only identifying feature for the unwary.
–Updated version! for ‘delighted’– :)
The calico cat licked his paw and rubbed his whiskers as he crouched, silhouetted against the sky as it steadily crept from twilight to dusk bringing with it a deep sense of mystery and spiritual nourishment that perhaps only the feline population could read and understand perfectly.
He loved this time of night, the sheer magic of it that you could feel from whiskers to paw. Sometimes it was a subtle magic, like the time he became lost and a single gold leaf fell from the sky to point the way home. Another time it was more potent, like the time his very being dissolved and he crossed a luminous threshold into another realm created entirely from spiders’ webs. He delighted in this magic; wished that humans knew of it, but they seemed too caught up in what seemed superficial concerns. (He could have perhaps blamed this on the Industrial Revolution, or mankind’s interpretation of seemingly mechanistic Cartesian duality – although Descartes had even come up with an elegant theory that said animal spirits could interact with humans via the pineal gland – but when did you ever read about that?!) But really, the Calico cat privately thought that actually you could lay some of the blame at Thomas Edison’s feet with the invention of the light bulb (that and the fact mankind was already losing its spiritual footing). The artificial, electric light seemed ruthlessly clinical in a negation of Mystery, an erosion of shadows that carried with them footsteps of panther, or the flicker of moths wings. A decaying of old ways and truths that humans used to just somehow know. Just like cats did.
And what did bleedin’ Edison do? Go and distract those pesky humans from the whisperings of the universe; got them thinking magic wasn’t real. He yawned loudly and scratched his ear.
The call of the night was now too great as the stars and the moon became bright overhead, and the calico cat felt, as always, an inexorable sense that his home was not on this planet but instead nestled deep within the canopy of stars above. At this he wandered off and became enveloped into the night; an occasional deep-throated meow the only identifying feature for the unwary.
He seemed so delighted to see her. Eyes alight with happiness as he grabbed her hand and said, “I can’t believe you’re still alive!”
It was odd, seeing someone so happy in her presence. From the earliest she could remember, she was shunned, hated, forgotten. No one really was happy to see her.
It was hard to be happy in a situation like this. Too many people, all with delighted, happy looks on their face. Too much noise, too much talking. It was stiffing, and she hated it.
There was a reason she never went to these kind of parties anyways.
She sighed, tipping back her head and swallowing another glass of wine.
The calico cat licked his paw and rubbed his whiskers as he crouched, intently watching the sky as it crept from twilight to dusk, becoming as it did so, loaded with a deep sense of mystery that perhaps only the feline population could read and understand perfectly.
He loved this time of night, the sheer magic of it. Sometimes it was a subtle magic, like the time a single gold leaf fell from the sky, simply to point the way home. Another time it was more potent, like the mysterious stranger who told the cat of some of the mysteries of the universe, or the time his very being dissolved and he crossed a luminous threshold into another realm, created entirely from spiders’ webs. He delighted in this mystery; wished that humans knew of it, but they seemed too caught up in what seemed superficial concerns. He could have perhaps blamed this on the Industrial Revolution, or a mankind’s common interpretations of seemingly mechanistic Cartesian duality – although Descartes had even come up with an elegant theory that said animal spirits could interact with humans via the pineal gland – but when did you ever read about that?! But really, the Calico cat concluded that a good place to start could be with Thomas Edison and the invention of the light bulb – that really put a few nails in the coffin for Mystery – for how could you see and sense the magic in the night sky when dazzled by artificial light? At that the calico cat felt, as always, an inexorable pull deep within; a sense that his home was not on this planet but instead nestled deep within the canopy of stars above. At this, he ambled off, disappearing into the darkness completely.
His smile was as wide as they could come. It lit up his usually dark and dreary face. It was an odd tingling feeling he was unfamiliar with when she looked at him. A warm fuzzy feeling he couldn’t control.
Ludwig walked slowly up to the front door of Feliciano’s house. This was his first date in years and he was more than nervous.
Will was always delighted when Grell came to visit him. He would never admit it, but it always brightened his day when his office door was thrown open and she spent time talking to him about anything, even if she did sometimes make a mess of his desk.
Quite with that because I am so tired of the arguments I’m so tired of the feeling that comes with uncertainty I am so tired of kicking myself in the balls for wearing a orange hat instead of a blue one. What shall a grown man do but sing? Sing like the birds of yesteryear.
i can’t imagine trying to think of all the ways to please you. it’s like a bottomless well and i’m dredging the bottom with a tin cup, looking, desperately looking, for the thing to say that will delight you, make your eyes sparkle and shine and the creases of your mouth tighten up right before a smile.
Her face shown with utter delight as she tore the paper off of the large box. Surely it would be the doll bunk beds! That was what she had pointed at in the store, that’s what she had told her mom she wanted! She could just imagine the tiny blankets, the tiny pillows, and she could barely catch her breath, her excitement was so great.
little flutter in my stomach, i want to push it back so you don’t see it but i think you do. i don’t want you to know what you do to me. i don’t want you to know that you have this power over me
It was July. Sam could take it no longer – a stealthy operation in the dead of night saw the removal of the Christmas decorations from next door for the first time in nearly a decade.
I think of that amazing feeling where you can’t stop yourself from smiling and you are genuinely so pleased and happy. Wonderful emotion, makes you feel light and joyous. It can be something small like a text from a friend or something larger like hearing great news.
Her laughter echoed throughout the room at the mere sight of her friends. She hadn’t been expecting them, and when her eyes landed on them, she felt a bubbling feeling rise through her veins, up her throat, and she grinned with a spark in her eyes before letting the sound free from her lips. The sound of shuffling, hurried footsteps rose into the air, and then bodies colliding.
I was delighted when I set eyes on him. He was good looking, kinda dangerous, had a cigarette hanging from his lips. His long dark hair was in a little pony tail, with strands framing his handsome face.
happy
funny beautiful day and sky
my kids kissing me
seeing my husband
kissing mom
unexpected surprises
Janis was delighted to discover she would not have to pay for her room, but wondered who had paid the bill.
I’d never seen such cheap sweet strawberries and I spent my last four dollars on them with minimal guilt. Minimal guilt considering that I was the queen of guiltonia most days. I’d embroidered a crown and everything but at least I’d removed the embedded thorns from it. Each time I tried to remove the crown, a crow kept protesting.
I am delighted to be your friend.
Will continue to be so as long as you continue to be honest, open-minded and do your own laundry.
Whoops, you dropped one sock going to the laundry machine. Yours or mine?
I’ve been rarely delighted these days. Lots of bad things have happened to me. I used to be very delighted when I was younger. Now I’m mostly sad.
deep surrender
…
sudden forever
….
eternal delight.
When did it start? I think
that one time when you meant to prop your knee up on the bed and tripped and fell onto the floor. When I made you mad, and it hurt me. Getting to touch you wherever I want whenever I want, and that empty feeling as I wait for you to touch me back. A little loneliness, knowing you or me are not enough. Cold sheets. Hot air. The back of your head. Fear of falling off the balcony ledge like little paper ashes
fluttering
into dust.
Small delights.
The sun’s out. I guess I always feel alright when the sun’s out. Look at it: the light reflects from someone’s mom’s dun-grey SUV, bounces onto the sidewalk, catches the slits in the lace-like weeds.
She clapped her tiny hands together, her flushed face lit up with excitement. Her positively delighted expression brought a much-needed smile to my face.
They rolled their eyes and stretched out a hand for the box.
Ed giggled quietly. He knew, he just knew, that they were going to be delighted with their gift. He’d spent hours hunting around the shops and craftsplaces of the city – it had taken him months to find this piece.
One thing I’m not, is delighted. I just sat down for my lunch; fork full of delicious cheesy potato-y fish half way to my mouth, when a knock at the door comes. Goddamnit, Jehovah’s Witnesses again.
i will be delighted to get back to myself. to where i once was–what i once felt—how i once behaved–for that limited time. that brief limited time that never lasts quite as long as the consuming spiral downward. i spin down down down til i miss the delight enough to head up again.
I was so delighted to know that finally I have my first car. It took lots of hard work and sacrifice; but Wow! I feel just good.
She was delighted to see him once again, even if he was only hologram incapable of touching her or feeling emotions. A tear rolled down her eye.
As a bird of many songs, I was delighted to find a well educated worm in my apple. It had been a long time since I’ve debated my lunch. While he put up a good argument, his peppercorn glasses added a better spice to my rebuttal.