But you built me dreams instead.

It's a wonderful sort of feeling when people want to spend more time in a world you created.

Wine is bottled poetry, he thinks.

Sometimes I write what I can't paint, and I paint what I can't write. I use a different part of the brain.

Trespassers Will Be Exsanguinated.

You look like a ghost," Bailey says. He can think of no better way to describe it. "You appear the same way to me, so which of us is real?

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.