I think looking forward will be better than looking back.

I would have written you, myself, if I could put down in words everything I want to say to you. A sea of ink would not be enough.' 'But you built me dreams instead.

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

Like stepping into a fairy tale under a curtain of stars.

Even the air feels different on Halloween, autumn-crisp and bright.

Good and evil are a great deal more complex than a princess and a dragon . . . is not the dragon the hero of his own story?

The funeral is a quiet one, despite the number of mourners present. There are no sobs or flailing handkerchiefs. There is a smattering of color amongst the sea of traditional black. Even the light rain cannot push it down into the realms of despair. It rests instead in a space of thoughtful melancholy.