That's what really broke me, she was better than any fantasy I could hope to imagine. I've spent my life creating, yet she was pristine the likes of which I could never fashion.

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.

No one will teach you what you ought to know. You must search the truth for yourself.

The human soul is heavy, clumsy, held in the mud of the flesh. Its perceptions are still coarse and brutish. It can divine nothing clearly, nothing with certainty.

To try to cure unemployment by inflation rather than by adjustment of specific wage-rates is like trying to adjust the piano to the stool rather than the stool to the piano.

When we're growing up there are all sorts of people telling us what to do when really what we need is space to work out who to be.

It takes a lot of devotion and work, or maybe I should say play, because if you love it, that's what it amounts to I haven't found any shortcuts, and I've been looking for a long time.

Everyone really does have a place and a purpose and a need.

Break ups are painful, but if initiated at the right time can fuel one's sense of optimism.

Young authors give their brains much exercise and little food.

Since he is of no use anymore, there is no gain if he lives and no loss if he dies.

I'm not all that well-educated or well-read, and I always feel a little intimidated about that. I perceive things on a much more instinctive level instead of intellectualizing things.