her eyes are unfathomable to me, hostile, even, as if she had removed herself to a place where I cannot reach her - somewhere I cannot know.

I want to kiss the bottom of the ocean before I burst through its surface into the sunlight. Otherwise I'll always be wondering about what was left unseen at the bottom.

She fails to see who I am, even, for her eyes do not, will not, take me in. Instead they transmit a powerful message. She is like a billboard flashing, starkly: 'Keep Out'.

Whatever it was her father wanted, Emma did not know how to provide it. She felt confused by what he did, and imagined the problem was a lack in her, rather than him. And there was something

The writing that so thrills and exhilarates you, as if you were dancing right next to the band, is barely audible to anyone else.

The wind picks up, but instead of putting his sweatshirt back on, he just fits the hood over his head. As he walks forward, it billows behind him like a cape.

Revolutions are not about trifles but spring from trifles.

Much of what we call emotion is nothing more or less than a certain kind - a biased, prejudiced, or strongly evaluative kind - of thought.

There are problems that just end up being really hard and by definition the only problems that come to my desk are the ones that nobody else can solve.

I've been a fanatic about working out all my life.

It was a love of perpetual flight.

People without an internalized symbolic system can all too easily become captives of the media.

Be cool to the pizza dude.

Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses.