If I had a shiny gun I could have a world of fun Speeding bullets through the brains Of the folks that cause me pains :)

His voice was as intimate as the rustle of sheets.

My love runs by like a day in June, And he makes no friends of sorrows. He'll tread his galloping rigadoon In the pathway of the morrows. He'll live his days where the sunbeams start, Nor could storm or wind uproot him. My own dear love, he is all my heart, -- And I wish somebody'd shoot him.

Now that you've got me right down to it, the only thing I didn't like about The Barrets of Wimplole Street was the play.

There are times when images blow to fluff, and comparisons stiffen and shrivel.

Newton's Fourth Law: Every action has an equal and opposite satisfaction.

Hell's afloat in lover's tears.