I thought of Marius. Wild, wonderful, Byronic-fantasy Marius, who had somehow found something he wanted in the everyday quietness of me. Until he hadn't.

I have a sort of . . . thing, I suppose, for certain words. They spark inside me, somehow, turning me to touchpaper, but I don't know what they are until someone says them.

In daylight and up close, he was merciless, all smiles and freckles, the brightest, boldest flame a moth could wish for.

His attention. Sweet and intense at the same time. Like a barley sugar I could untwist from its plastic and hold in my mouth. A flood of secret pleasure.

This is the story of my life: standing on the edges of things and worrying, when I'm supposed to just walk through them.

I'm not trying to upset you. I just think it's about time you move

Thank you, " I said bravely, dropping the syllables cleanly, like marbles, and secretly full of the most pathetic pride imaginable. I had spoken to strangers.

{Summertime she speaks of winter, she eats ham, but speaks of beef, got a good man but, flirts with another. She might as well go to hell, cause she ain't gonna be happy in heaven either!}

A fictional Dystopia is better than a fake Utopia.

You used words, discarding them meaninglessly, without thinking, whereas I thought they held meaning. I found what you will never see: that my love resides on the other side of words. - Broken Places

After a certain point, money is meaningless. It ceases to be the goal. The game is what counts.

Creativity is like chasing chickens.

You're never going to be gentle enough with the person who is your guest.

Dad trusted people based on their spirit and their handshake.

In this treacherous world Nothing is the truth nor a lie. Everything depends on the color Of the crystal through which one sees it

Most faults are not in our Constitution, but in ourselves.

Right now, American law bars the admission of aliens suspected of terrorist activity - but not of terrorist sympathies.