What is more humiliating than finding the object of your love unworthy?

I feel in colour, strong tones that I hue down for the comfort of the pastelly inclined. Beige and magnolia and a hint of pink are what the well-decorated heart is wearing; who wants my blood red and vein-blue?

Part fact part fiction is what life is. And it is always a cover story. I wrote my way out.

Hopeless heart that thrives on paradox; that longs for the beloved and is secretly relieved when the beloved is not there.

The people who decided in their wisdom that we're all going to go over to ebooks, they are not readers. These are technical people. These are people who think that somehow this is progress. It isn't. It's regressive.

The world is surely wide enough to walk without fear.

Wherever love is, I want to be, I will follow it as surely as the land-locked salmon finds the sea.