Beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.

I felt like time was a great sea, and I was floating on the back of a turtle, and no sails broke the horizon.

If this was a sandalwood pyre she would have thrown herself in and this paper she'd become would have caught fire and she and him could sail away like two birds.

Whenever she thought she could not feel more alone, the universe peeled back another layer of darkness.

Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow.

She would be half a planet away, floating in a turquoise sea, dancing by moonlight to flamenco guitar.

Just because a poet said something didn’t mean it was true, only that it sounded good.