But she woke up just then, and in the moonlight covered herself with a blanket. She smiled at him drowsily and called him "Yero, my hero," and that melted his heart.

Before catechisms can instill a proper humility, small children know the truth that their own existence has caused the world to bloom into being.

The thing about a mirror is this: The one who stares into it is condemned to consider the world from her own perspective.

It was deliciously pagan.

So he stalked her again. Love makes hunters of us all.

No," she cried, "no, no, I'm not a harem, I'm not a woman, I'm not a person, no.

...the reasons just reassemble themselves in different patterns every time I think about it.