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.

The momentum of the mind can be vexingly, involuntarily capricious.

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

To look into the mirror is to see the future, in blood and rubies.

In summer moonlight, she was dangerously, inebriatingly magnified.

...perhaps charity is the kind of beauty that we comprehend the best because we miss it the most.

This is why you shouldn't fall in love, it blinds you. Love is wicked distraction.