Your dreaming self seeks to tell you something your waking ears will not hear

It's funny, how one can look back on a sorrow one thought one might well die of at the time, and know that one had not yet reckoned the tenth part of true grief.

And having once chosen, never to seek to return to the crossroads of that decision-for even if one chooses wrongly, the choice cannot be unmade.

After you, it's all cheap tequila.

I wish sometimes that the gods would either choose better, or make their wishes clearer

All paths are present, always... and we can but choose among them.

Beauty is at its most poignant when the cold hand of Death holds poised to wither it imminently.