She was the half-whispers born from half-thoughts, the half-breaths of dying half-hearts.

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 anything, Calvin Klein is the iconic company in terms of fashion. They do have iconic images for their campaigns.

I studied a lot of Foghorn Leghorn.

The eyes of the world are upon you.

... without health to enjoy love, and love to enjoy wealth, is not all vanity?

Fairy tales are more than true.

The best of our fiction is by novelists who allow that it is as good as they can give, and the worst by novelists who maintain that they could do much better if only the public would let them.

The word was enough. It ran like fire along the line, from man to man, and rose into a shout, with which they sprang forward upon the enemy, now not 30 yards away.

The stem of greatness sprouts from the seed of sacrifice.

...if more people had been organ donors, unwinding never would have happened...but people like to keep what's theirs, even after they're dead.

There is no leisure about politics.