I wanted you mine. I wanted me yours.

Loving you was like jumping into the dark side of a pool, and drowning.

Dear Lover, Your laughter is warm rain, and you are the rainbow.

what is a journeywithout someone who wandersif sometimes a pairis made of two

solder. this is meand you together

...but beautiful mosaics are made of broken pieces.

All of my insecuritiesshine in the dark.

Pina colada kisses and cocaine nipsnever lie, swear to me that this feeling is real.

Dear Lover...you are the only man, who never hurt me, but broke my heart.

You love meand love me notyour love is an arm of clockjoining hands with mineonly to leave me again

cherry reddenim tornholding closethe smell of warm

Lady Bracknell, I hate to seem inquisitive, but would you kindly inform me who I am?

Where there is forgiveness, there is always love.

Men study science as god not the God of science.

Not content, but the road the artist takes, is the interesting part.

In today's impoverished dialogue, critiques of liberalism are often naively called "conservative," as if twenty-five hundred years of Western intellectual tradition presented no other alternatives.

This book will take you two days to read. Did you even see the cover? It’s mostly pink. If you’re reading this book every night for months, something is not right.

Believe it or not, I don't collaborate with women, though my agent and editor are both females. For the most part, they do little editing on my characters.

He speaks truly who speaks the shade.

Life is as serious a thing as death.

To be the first to enter the cosmos, to engage, single-handed, in an unprecedented duel with nature-could one dream of anything more?