Dreams are shores where the ocean of spirit meets the land of matter. Dreams are beaches where the yet-to-be, the once-were, the will-never-be may walk awhile with the still-are.
Your turn has come to sift through the dreck of humanity for rare specks of originality
The music provokes a sharp longing the music soothes.
For me, novels coalesce into being, rather than arrive fully formed.
Who was blowing on the nape of my neck?
She has to lose her pre-Copernican view of a universe revolving around herself.