I was burdened with an ever-growing heart on the verge of decay. To save myself, I had to give many pieces of my love away. I hope I can give it all to someone, someday.

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.

If you see the dragon fly, best you drink the flagon dry.”—Zarost

Cynicism ... is the trade-mark of failure.

No one wants to hear me crooning a ballad.

Those mad at me, writing emails angrily, Im not anti-America, America is anti-me.

Putin is behaving in a very dangerous way. And Donald Trump sounds as though he would simply sit back and allow that to go on. I worry about where that would end up.

People used to be funny about approaching me, but now they seem to think I'm as sane as anyone who's done what I've done in movies can be.

My temperament is not inclined toward more self-promotion than is absolutely necessary for my professional well-being.

My whole life . . . two and two has made four.”... “But now . . . it’s all gone wrong.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make four anymore. It makes you.

For every whack I've given, I've gotten four or five.

My fear is greater than my faith, but I walk the missionary way.