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.

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.

And though they fell as ashes, their shadows drifted as leaves.

I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.

Respect is a really powerful magic too, you know.

There's nothing more toxic or deadly than a human child. A single touch could kill you.

But I feel like I could not live... if you weren't in my life.” -Nik Driver

Acting is not about anything romantic, not even fantasy, although you do create fantasy.

But novels are never about what they are about; that is, there is always deeper, or more general, significance. The author may not be aware of this till she is pretty far along with it.

Ennui is the echo in us of time tearing itself apart.

We are like oil and vinegar most of the time. But when you shake us up real good, the combination is heavenly.~ Anna Segee, The Stranger in Her Bed

In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer quite the other way I have to go to bed by day.