I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you.

The silence that falls between them is a comfortable one. He longs to reach over and touch her, but he resists, fearful of destroying the delicate camaraderie they are building. He steals glances instead, watching the way the light falls over her skin. Several times he catches her regarding him in a similar manner, and the moments when she holds his eyes with hers are sublime.

A woman I should like to think I know rather well and a woman I had always considered a mystery, are in fact the same person.

People are naive about such things, and they would rather write them off as evil than attempt to understand them. An unfortunate truth, but a truth nonetheless.

All empires fall eventually. It is the way of things.

Where do you get your ideas? people ask. Sometimes they’re at the bottoms of cups of tea. Sometimes they’re lurking in my shower. Sometimes they’re waiting patiently in glass cases in museums.

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