Everyone is their own, though they are so alone. They all sit on their imagined thrones, made only of their own bones. Ego and pride make exquisite delusional cushions.

Though I exist in the realms of day and night, I'm only truly alive in the moments between.

And once the ripples still and the water returns to its unwavering calm, even the pebble that broke its surface will be forgotten. And the world will go on.

I was lost in the moments I decided to keep. To be awake in a dreamless sleep. And in that place between dream and sleep, I planted some more things I would like to keep.

She's an array of undiscovered words, of feeling beyond my threshold. I'm just a man, trying to hold himself together in her wake.

The flicker, the flutter, even thoughts can stutter.

It was her eyes. Soft, meadow-shade eyes with frostbitten edges. Every glance casually held gossamer infinity. Every stare revealed inky black abyss with a hint of divinity.

Woven words are little conviction when I present myself as a man of fiction.

She was carmine shadows reflecting from my crimson words. Every pulse sent a velvet ripple through the shade. Every breath, a scarlet pause.

With ravenous passion and reckless ambition he forged his thoughts into words, obsessed with the notion that dying would not be the last thing he would do.

He gave up. No hint of ember behind his eyes nor life in his breath. He snipped the last, overstretched strand of hope, and nicked the strand of life by mistake. He did it with his hands.

How very like humans to pervert a message of love and peace to make it into an ideology of war and oppression to serve their own ends.

[Theater] has always been a big focus. I have been away from it for the past few years. I want to get back to it!

The man who is too busy to read is never likely to lead.

You see? I know where every single book used to be in the library. She pointed to the shelf opposite. Over there was Catch-22, which was a hugely popular fishing book and one of a series, I believe.

Be as the still mountain; Move like the great river.

Lots of men are like that, their artistic leanings never go beyond a weakness for shapely thighs.

Sometimes there are times you actually don't want to be in the information loop on some rumors; because once you're in the loop, then if something leaks, you're one of the people in the loop.

The fact that I'm going to be unsuccessful at times is pretty well-balanced by the fact that I'm going to be successful at others.

Fiction. . . . It's like goading a mongoose and a cobra into battle and staying with them to see who wins.

If we have trouble hearing Him, He will faithfully work in our lives until we are pointed in the direction He wants us to go.