I wondered where he was now whether I would ever hear him again. Whether someone would love him, someday show him what beauty mean't.

Darkness coiled between what he wanted them to believe and the self he despised. It only made him more alone. How could you save someone when he didn't let you kno him? What a waste. The beauty he murdered in this place. He could never see what he had, only what he failed to achieve.

She was not used to being cruel, but he had taught her how.

We recived our colouring from the Norsemen,hairy savages who hacked their gods to pieces and hung the flesh from trees.We are the ones who sacked Rome.Fear only feeble old age and death in bed.Don't forget who you are.

My house is modern, but I like my writing room to be old fashioned. I write on a little wooden secretary desk.

I wish my life could be like that, knotted up so that even if something broke, the whole thing wouldn't come apart.

I'm always gratified when I check something I've made up and discover that I've gotten it right. How can we imagine something that turns out to be true? How can we know things we couldn't possibly know? It makes me wonder about the existence of a collective unconscious.