...every piece of the laughing was a tiny bird come tumbling out to fly around the room.

She was a wicked thing sometimes. All full of want. As if the shape of the world depended on her mood. As if she were important.

But no. There is a difference between the truth and what we wish were true.

It exhasperated her, but she knew better than to force the world to her desire.

She knew the true shape of the world. All else was shadow and the sound of distant drums.

I cannot help but wonder how many of us walk through our lives, day after day, feeling slightly broken and alone, surrounded all the time by others who feel exactly the same way.

Answers were always important, but they were seldom easy.

Some days simply lay on you like stones.

The gesture was so tight with rage she feared she’d snap and crack the world in two.

I love her more than just a little. I think it's because we're both somewhat broken, in our own odd ways. More importantly, we're both aware of it.

But for half a minute she wished it was a different sort of day, even though she knew that nothing good could come from wanting at the world.

Nothing is impossible, the world it's self says I'm possible!

I'll sleep when I'm dead.

How much would you pay to avoid a second Depression?

You don't rest well as long as you're seeking vengeance. I feel sad justice wasn't done, but it's time to move on and sleep well.

We ought as much as we can to endeavour the Perfecting of our Beings, and that we be as happy as possibly we may.

What is time to a water rat? What is time to the river? Only we humans obsess over days and minutes, hours and seasons.

Sport, at its best, at its most human, is able to inspire an innocence and joy that is unique to each of us.

Hungry Hungry Hippos is so depressing. You continuously chomp away at those balls and you are alone and it's your birthday.'

The eye sees more than the heart knows.

Protestations of impartiality I shall make none. Theyare always useless and are besides perfect nonsense, when used bya news-monger.