If one's friends do not openly laugh at him, they are not in fact his friends.
Behind every closed door might wait a thief of minds and a collector of souls.
Not all or even most suffering is at the hands of fate; it befalls us at our invitation.
His blue eyes were seas where sorrow sailed.
When I'm in the middle of a book it can go up from there. When you're putting in those hours, the real world kind of fades and the world you're creating becomes almost more real to you than the outside world.
Blizzards, floods, volcanos, hurricanes, earthquakes: They fascinate because they nakedly reveal that Mother Nature, afflicted with bipolar disorder, is as likely to snuff us as she is to succor us.